Skye stood in the ticket line for transport off Krell. The line wound all the way around this part of the station, with people standing patiently. Everyone knew they’d have a seat, although she couldn’t say the same for folks who arrived much later.
She hated ticketing here. No early tickets because people would resell them and gouge whoever bought the seat. The transport companies had inflicted this policy on Krell, not the other way around, because too much forgery had happened and too many people ended up with matching tickets for the same seat.
She always forgot about this inconvenience until she waited in line. Usually she didn’t mind. The ticket station had food and drink vendors, entertainment vendors, and everything else she could think of. All kinds of music competed for her attention, and the air smelled strongly of beer and fried foods.
But she wasn’t paying any attention to any of that. Instead, she found herself looking at the door frames and ceiling, wondering if Jack could even stand in this area as long as she had. He would have to hunch.
And she would have to stop thinking about him.
Now.
Not that such internal commands had worked so far. She had barely allowed herself to look at him when they said good-bye in her suite. She had given him a cold smile, and a brief wave of the fingers, as if he hadn’t mattered to her at all, as if the time they shared hadn’t been the most amazing time in her entire life.
For his part, he hadn’t said another word about another meeting. Instead, he had smiled at her and thanked her for the shower. If he had thanked her for anything else, she would have come unglued.
She had no idea what he thought of her. Did he think she did this at every port with a different guy every time? And did it matter if he did think that way?
She tugged on the sleeves of her sweater. She had put it on, as well as a pair of leggings because she couldn’t get warm. Leaving him did send little shivers through her, and a hot shower hadn’t helped.
Nothing would help. She was letting a good man walk away from her, and she was doing it for all the right reasons.
Although she had no guarantee he was good except for that inexplicable sense she got about people, the way she could see right down to their core. She liked his core. She liked the parts jutting out of his core. She liked everything about him, including the way his eyes darkened when he had an orgasm. She wondered how many women had seen that.
And then she had to remind herself—sternly, forcefully—that it was none of her business.
Jack Hunter, whoever he was, was no longer someone she needed to concern herself with. He was already a memory, albeit a very, very, very good one.
She was so preoccupied she almost missed a familiar form skirting the transport line. The form belonged to Liora Olliver, one of the toughest, hardest assassins to go through the Guild.
Skye should know, since she and Liora had tested together. Liora aced every assassin test. Skye rarely passed them. Often Skye forfeited them, unwilling to stalk someone and kill him in what she believed was cold blood.
The depth of her belief and that talent of hers which enabled her to see people clearly convinced the heads of the Guild to let her be a spy and nothing more. The Guild’s director, Kerani Ammons, actually told Skye that she was unusual, that they’d never had anyone like her before.
Skye felt good about that for a few days after it happened, and then she encountered the taunts of the other trainees. Assassins in training, like Liora, had made fun of Skye in ways that still carried pain whenever she thought of them.
Liora had no reason to be here. Skye always checked to see which assassins were nearby before she arrived anywhere. That way, she wouldn’t have one of those awkward “hello” moments that could derail a job— hers or the assassin’s.
It was common courtesy, and it was a routine that Skye followed religiously.
So did Liora. Or at least, that was what it seemed like. But as Skye thought about it, she realized that she hadn’t seen Liora’s name on a manifest in months. Liora had either been out of the game or stalking very big prey.
Or both.
Yet, if it were big prey, then Skye should have known about it. Shouldn’t she?
She slipped out of the line almost without thinking about it. She had discovered a lot of disturbing material in the last few months, things that pointed at some kind of plot against the Guild itself. She had sent some of the information back to the Guild and hadn’t received any response.
Of course, they didn’t owe her a response. They might have simply sent out some of their best operatives to investigate the threats.
Liora was one of their best operatives.
Liora was small and slender with short cropped black hair. One of Skye’s constant irritations growing up was that instructors—particularly early in a course—would confuse them. Apparently they looked enough alike that the instructors couldn’t see past the physical. If they had, they would have seen just how different both women were.
Both got good grades, but Liora always scored well on weapons use, hand-to-hand fighting, and willingness to go after an opponent. Skye’s hand-eye coordination wasn’t that good, so she and weapons didn’t always get along, and she would back off if she didn’t think she had a good reason to fight someone.
She had only fought Liora once, and had lost miserably. Liora didn’t have any empathy for her opponent, even though the fights were in class, and she had known her opponents for much of her life. Liora fought to win.
Skye would back down, which always got her poor marks. In mock fights, assassins were supposed to recognize that their lives were often on the line, just like their targets’ lives were. Skye couldn’t make that mental leap. She wasn’t sure if she could make it if her life really were in danger. So far, in all the years she had been working off her debt to the Guild, she hadn’t had to find out.
Skye wove through the crowd, careful to keep someone between herself and Liora. She wasn’t sure why she felt it imperative that Liora didn’t see her, but Skye trusted her gut. Her gut had gotten her into and out of serious situations before, often without harming anyone.
Something about Liora seemed off to her, but she wouldn’t be able to describe what that something was.
Liora made her way to the central concourse of Krell, doing her best to remain out of sight just like Skye was. Skye had no idea whom Liora was trying to avoid, but she thought someone else might be around. Or maybe she was trying to avoid the surveillance cameras which everyplace—including Krell—had in abundance.
The difference between Krell and most other places was that Krell never released its footage to the authorities—any authorities. Krell sat in the NetherRealm, the neutral space between several jurisdictions, and resolutely refused to join any of them for any reason.
Liora headed to the very bar that Skye and Jack had frequented the night before. Only Liora ducked inside.
Skye wasn’t sure how she could follow—Liora would recognize her after all. Then she saw where Liora sat, toward the back, facing the wall, obviously thinking more about going unseen and unrecognized than worrying about her own safety.
Odd. That went against training. But sometimes just acting on training alone allowed others to find Assassins Guild members. Maybe the improper position was more of Liora’s cover.
Skye elbowed her way to the bar. She ordered that same lemon fizzy thing she had ordered the night before. Only this time, she sat at the very edge of the bar, just behind an obese man who seemed to be a regular here. He had been in the very same spot nursing a different drink the night before.
Liora sat alone. Skye scanned the area including the concourse, looking for another familiar face. Through the open door, she saw one, but not one she expected.
She saw Jack.
He didn’t look inside the bar. Instead, he headed away from it, his movements furtive and odd. Her heart pounded. She both wanted him to look in her direction and she didn’t want him to. Her cheeks flushed.
She felt like a vulnerable teenager—or what she thought a vulnerable teenager must have felt like, because she had never been one. All those crushes, all those sleepless nights thinking about attractions and the opposite
