Daysider

those bodies back there?”

“They died in the course of their duties,” Damon said. “They may yet serve to make the enemy believe any direct threat posed by Council agents has been eliminated.”

“They’re almost right,” Alexia said. She moved briskly to kneel beside her pack. “But we’re going to show them almost isn’t enough.”

Damon was too humbled by her indomitable courage to answer. He watched her as he pretended to check his own weapons and equipment, wondering how it was possible that he had never recognized the value and worth of her kind. Not just the Opir half, but the human, as well.

“You were human once,” Alexia had said. And though he didn’t remember, now he had cause to be proud of that blood.

As he prepared to fieldstrip his rifle, an explosion of pain burst inside his stomach, sending a volcanic rush of acid into his throat. He dropped the weapon and doubled over, turning away so that Alexia couldn’t see.

The Hunger. But that wasn’t possible. It was too soon. Much too soon. When Lysander had taunted him about needing blood, he had discounted it as sheer maliciousness, an attempt to frighten Alexia and arouse her suspicion.

But he remembered his powerful reaction when he had tasted Alexia’s blood, however briefly, and how he had stared at her lip when she had bitten through the skin.

Now he wondered what Lysander had seen in him that he hadn’t seen himself. And why it should be coming on him now.

“Damon?”

He straightened and turned, schooling his expression to neutral inquiry. “Yes?”

“Nothing.” She frowned. “I thought... Never mind.”

She returned to her work, but Damon remained very quiet, listening intently to his body. The flare of pain was gone, but he could still feel its aftereffects. He stared at Alexia’s back, imagining them entwined together, his mouth on her neck, taking her blood as he took her body.

No. He was imagining this need because he wanted her, that was all. He would simply have to be at his most disciplined the next time she needed his blood.

Hands trembling, he bent back to the rifle and went to work.

* * *

They encountered no interference as they descended out of the hills and entered the valley. The quiet was almost ominous, but Damon knew he and Alexia were as prepared as they could be. They had advanced within five hundred meters of the colony walls, crossing open fields and cleared pastures, before the first bullets bit the dirt on each side of their feet.

Damon put his arm out to hold Alexia back. “Say nothing,” he reminded her. “No matter what happens, hold your peace.”

“Like a good serf should,” she murmured.

Even as he winced at her wry comment, he recognized the courage it had taken for her to accept his plan. Asking her to lie down and die would have been easier.

Much easier. But she had decided to live, even at the price of relying on his blood and his word. He wouldn’t let her down again. He would give his last breath to save her.

If his judgment was wrong, that last breath might be coming at any moment.

He and Alexia remained silent and motionless, waiting for more direct acknowledgment of their presence as their shadows stretched before them across the rough native grasses. Damon heard the distant sound of cattle lowing from the direction of the colony, undoubtedly kept behind the high walls for protection after all the hostile activity going on around them. After nearly half an hour Damon heard footsteps approaching from behind them. Alexia stiffened. He raised his hands above his head.

Damon felt the muzzle of an automatic weapon dig into the back of his skull. Alexia’s hands curled into fists, but she stayed absolutely still.

“Who are you?” the man demanded, his voice muffled behind his visor.

Opir, Damon thought. The rustle and creak of his bulky protective suit gave him away.

“I’ve come to speak to Theron,” Damon said.

The Opir laughed. “Everyone wants to see Theron,” he said, “especially to kill him.”

Did that mean they’d already been attacked? Damon wondered. “Tell Theron that Damon of the Darketans has come under Blood-truce,” he said. “If I make any hostile move, you can always kill me.”

“Gallows humor, I believe the humans call it,” the Opir said. The rifle’s muzzle pushed into the back of Damon’s neck with bruising force. “Who sent you?”

“I come on my own.”

“A Darketan?” the Opir asked, incredulity in his voice.

“I was originally assigned by the Council to observe your colony,” Damon said.

“Spy, you mean.”

“I was one among many, as you are undoubtedly aware,” Damon said, disregarding the Opir’s remark, “but my fellow agents were killed by Expansionist operatives. I learned that Theron was the leader of this settlement, and as I have been left without orders...”

“You thought you would join us?”

“Theron was my mentor, and—”

“You’re lying,” the Opir interrupted. “No Darketan abandons his duty to Erebus.”

“Not all Darketans are alike,” Damon said. “I value my life as something more than a tool of the Council. I know you seek independence from Erebus. So do I.”

“And you claim to know Theron?”

“I was his student. If you are familiar with his philosophy, you must realize that he regarded my people as equals to Opiri. He treated me as such when I knew him in Erebus.”

He could hear the stark skepticism in the Opir’s silence. “I have no reason to accept your claims,” he said. “We know the Expansionists have their own agents watching us constantly. Why should I believe you?”

“The Expansionists would never use Darketans to do their work,” Damon said. “I encountered a few of their operatives, and now they are dead. I have important information for Theron that cannot wait.”

The Opir grabbed Damon’s shoulder, his fingers pressing so hard they numbed Damon’s arm all the way down to his healing wrist, and spun him around to face Alexia.

“Who is she? ” he asked.

“My serf,” Damon said.

“A dhampir?” The Opir leaned toward her, his eyes barely visible through the tinted visor, and inspected her badly torn and stained clothing, her dirty face and tangled hair, all arranged specifically for this moment.

“She was in the company of one of the Expansionist operatives,” he said. “I found her as you see her now.”

“And the operative?”

“Dead, like the others.”

The Opir’s expression was invisible, but his scorn was evident in his posture. “Why do you bring her here?” he said, giving Damon a hard shake. “Darketans keep no serfs.”

Damon refused to react to the provocation. “As I said, I am not like other Darketans. I have no weapons, and any Opir has strength superior to mine. You have nothing to lose by taking me to him.”

For a few moments Damon was certain he had miscalculated in his confident approach.

He caught Alexia’s eye, and she nodded slightly. They were together in this, even if they could never be together in any other way.

If he was never to touch her naked body again, move deep inside her, feel her mouth pressed to his neck while she drank his blood, he would cling to those memories in the last instant of his life.

But it seemed that moment was not to come just yet. Abruptly the Opir dropped his hand from Damon’s shoulder. Without lowering his weapon, he faced the settlement and raised one hand in a gesture obviously meant as a signal. Two colonists, both in the same bulky clothing he wore, emerged from the gate set in the settlement’s high wooden wall.