Up above. Down in front. From behind.
Axe dived away from the bullets that whizzed by his ears and his ass, and instantly regretted that he hadn’t thought to have guns in his hands already. They’d been taught that. Goddamn it.
As he rolled across the pitted pavement, he fumbled to get his forties against his palms, but it was like trying to catch tennis balls while you were falling down a crevasse: His coat was flapping around, getting tangled in his arms and slapping him in the face, and his limbs were sloppy and uncoordinated as he tried to find a way to save himself from getting killed.
Somehow he made it to a shallow doorway in the wall, got his guns up, and then he was assessing whether the fire was a test or the actual enemy. He couldn’t tell. He couldn’t see anything, couldn’t scent much. People were running everywhere. Bullets were still flying. He had no idea who to make a target out of, or what he should do, or what the fuck was going on.
The chaos was unexpected. So was the grind-to-a-halt-while-faster-than-the-speed-of-light dichotomy: His brain couldn’t seem to decide whether things were in slow motion or going at a dead run—
And then a bullet came so close to his face that the tip of his nose felt the burn.
Fuck this, he thought as he pivoted.
With a violent thrust, Axe smashed his shoulder into the door, splintering the rotten wood. Just as he was falling inward, Novo streaked by, and he caught her arm, yanking her in with him. Together, the pair of them landed on concrete that had all the give of a morgue slab, arms and legs tangling, a split second of oh-fuck freezing them both.
Right away, they were back up on the vertical, and just as they had been taught, they went spine-to-spine with guns raised, forming the best defensive unit they could. Axe’s eyes burned as they strained to see something, anything, but the darkness was too thick to penetrate. His ears stepped into the sensory void, however, isolating and droning out the sounds of bullets and bodies moving in the alley, focusing on …
There was something dripping over to the left. Novo was breathing as hard as he was. And he could hear the beat of his own heart.
Wherever they were smelled like old air and twelve kinds of mold, suggesting that the place hadn’t been opened up in a—
“Click, you’re dead.”
As the soft words were spoken, a gun muzzle made contact with his temple. And given the way Novo gasped, he was pretty sure that she had a forty pressed up tight to her chrome dome, too.
“Motherfucker,” Axe muttered.
“Yup,” the Brother Rhage said without censure. “Neither of you are coming down for First Meal tomorrow morning. You failed your first field test.”
FOUR
Sometimes it was better to just walk away.
Not that Elise necessarily felt any better about the confrontation with her father. But at least, as she sat up in her bedroom, staring at her reflection in her vanity mirror, there was consolation to be had that things hadn’t gotten even worse.
Which, considering the stuff she’d said to him …
What came next? Her lighting their house on fire?
She’d meant every last word, though. None of it had been for show or distraction. And maybe if they’d been a different kind of father and daughter, the hard things she’d laid out would have opened the door to greater closeness, and forgiveness, and a mutual grieving.
Instead, there had been anger on both sides, and now her father was going to petition the King to make her a sehcluded female. If she’d thought she’d had problems before? Assuming the petition was accepted—and given his station in the glymera, why wouldn’t it be—she would have less than no rights. She would be a physical possession of her father’s, like a lamp or a car. A toaster oven.
A fricking couch.
As far as her father was concerned, the issue was closed. She wasn’t going to university anymore, and she was going to accept punishment for lying in the form of that guardianship. Done and dusted.
In the background, the details of her room became oh, so glaring, the silk brocade drapes, the canopied bed, the French antiques and the hand-painted wallpaper like a set for a Merchant Ivory film.
You know, something Keira Knightley would be in, wearing a corset and a cascading hairpiece.
None of it was Elise’s style. Hell, she didn’t even know what her style was.
As her cellphone started to ring, she took it out of the coat she still hadn’t bothered to take off yet and looked at who it was.
“Thank God,” she said as she braced her head in her hand. “I need you.”
“Hey, I’m in the middle of training. Are you okay?” Peyton’s voice was hushed, as if her cousin had cupped his hand around his mouth.
“No. I’m not.”
“Look, I can’t really talk now. I’m playing dead in an alley.”
“What?” She knew the guy was into some kinky things, but really? “Where are you?”
“Like I said, in an alley,” he whispered. “I just got killed in a field exercise and I’m waiting for my punishment. Meet me in an hour.”
As he gave her an address downtown, she shook her head even though he couldn’t see her. “No, you don’t understand. While you’re playing dead, I’m under house arrest. I’m stuck here.”
“What?”
Guess two could play at the surprise, surprise! game. “Long story. I can’t get away to see you—”
“Of course you can. Just crack a window and ghost out. I’ll see you in an hour.”
The connection was cut off, and Elise took the phone away from her ear as if she could will her cousin back on her cell.
Peyton had been the one to come and tell the family what had happened to Allishon. And although Elise had been forbidden to be in the room or hear any of the details, he had visited her afterward and told her if she needed anything, she could always come to him.
He’d probably meant that more in terms of dealing with Allishon’s death, but Elise didn’t feel like she had anywhere else to turn.
When her phone rang again, she answered immediately. “I’m serious, I can’t leave.”
“I’m sorry?” a male voice said.
“Troy! Oh, jeez. I, ah, was expecting someone else.”
“I just wanted to know …” Her professor cleared his throat. “You know, that you got home okay. And I was, I was sorry we were interrupted.”
“Well, you’re a popular guy.” Elise took a deep breath and really wished she could go back to worrying about something as simple as when they were going to go out. “You’re bound to be approached in the library.”
“Hey, are you okay? You sound off? Is it because—”
“Home problems. Nothing to do with you.”
“You know, you’ve never spoken about your family. I mean, I know you’re not married—but other than that …”
He had a nice voice, she thought. And his human accent was exotic in her ear. But it was so hard to switch gears from the very real trouble she had with her father to something as frivolous as dinner.