Born of Fire

Syn took her by the hand and led her toward glass doors that were covered with red graffiti. He pushed the control to open them.

As the doors pulsed open, she thought about an old story she’d once read that described the entrance to hell. This place certainly looked the part. If not for Syn, she’d probably be running in the opposite direction.

For some reason, she took a great deal of comfort in his presence. Much more comfort than she ought to.

He led her across a dirty, dank, empty lobby where even more graffiti was painted, some of it highly vulgar and obscene. It even had pictures of lewd acts and body parts.

As they approached the lift, a huge reptilian thing appeared and cut them off. It had the body of an upright lizard and the face that was half human, half snake. Its shiny blue and green scales gleamed in the dim light.

A scream lodged in her throat as she forgot Syn’s words and looked into the yellow eyes that were broken only by the black slit of its pupils.

He leveled a blaster at them. “Put your hands up, humans. Now.”





CHAPTER 8


Syn let go of her as he faced the reptilian creature. “Stand down or I’m going to shove that weapon some place real uncomfortable for you and I know enough about your anatomy to know exactly where that is.”

It didn’t look convinced. “What do you want here?” it asked in a lethal raspy whisper.

“I’m here to see Digger.”

“And you are?”

“Syn, as in the original.”

It gave a rumbling sound she assumed was a laugh. “You don’t look like Syn to me. And even if you were, what would you want with that old piece of dried-up mud?”

Syn’s gaze turned deadly. “Why don’t you ask him?” The lizard being took out a comlink and pressed a number sequence. After several seconds a gruff voice answered.

“I hate to disturb you, Frion. But I have a human here who says he’s Syn, as in the original.”

“Syn, huh?” It was obvious the man was older by his shaking voice. “Then ask him what his birth name is.”

The lizard looked at Syn.

Shahara also turned a questioning brow. Now she would find out what C.I. stood for.

“Sheridan Wade,” he said with an odd note in his voice.

Sheridan Wade? Just how many names did he have? But that one made sense given who his father had been.

“That’s my boy!” the voice said excitedly. “Send him up.”

The lizard turned back to them. “My pardon, Frion Syn,” it said before pushing the control for the lift. He stepped back to clear the door. “Digger is in flat 554.”

Syn said nothing, but Shahara could sense a strong, indecipherable emotion from him.

They stepped inside and the doors closed behind them. The lift cruised up the air channel with a smoothness belied by its ramshackle appearance.

Syn released her hand and went to stand in a rear corner.

“Just what is your name anyway?”

“Does it really matter? I’m a man without family, name, or country. I’ll answer to just about anything as long as it’s not degrading or insulting.”

“That’s not what I asked. I want to know what the C.I. stands for.”

He looked up with a smart aleck grin. “Created In.”

“Created In Syn,” she repeated. “Cute name. Your mother must have really hated you.”

His smile died. “With a passion,” he said with such sincerity that it gave her pause.

Before she could say anything more, the lift stopped and he left her without so much as a backward glance.

Promising herself that she’d force him to tell her, she went after him.

The rundown hallway was deserted except for the lines of graffiti that were scribbled everywhere. At least the apartment was close by.

This was not encouraging.

As Syn reached up to knock, the door swung open.

Tall and extremely lean, the man was probably around sixty-five. Though wrinkles obscured his features, which were also covered my a full beard, something about his demeanor told her that he’d probably been quite handsome in his youth. He had a thick head of white hair and eyes so blue they practically glowed.

And when he looked at Syn, it was like a father greeting his long-missing son. “Well I’ll be crimped and shanked, it really is you. I thought someone else was screwing with me.” He pulled Syn into a tight hug.

Syn cursed. “Careful, old man.” He quickly extracted himself. “Don’t break my ribs . . . any worse.”

“Break your ribs?” He looked Syn up and down. “Good Lord, boy. What happened to you?”

“I went drinking and fell off the stool . . . what do you think happened?”

Digger snorted. “Still the same sarcastic asshole you ever were. But you’re here, so that tells me just how bad it is. God knows you wouldn’t come here by choice and I damn sure don’t blame you for that. You running from the pinches?” Pinches was an old slang term used for the enforcers.

“I’m a Wade. What do you think?”