{Gait}

With the first step out of the conduit into Gait, Tameka’s combat boots splashed in a bright green puddle of “smells funny.” Skyscrapers, some pristine but most derelict, kissed the purple atmosphere. Lights and signs projected onto the starless night. Snow fell and lined the icy streets in dirty piles. Gigantic black contraptions clambered overhead.

Tameka watched them pass by. Softly, she wondered aloud, “What are they?”

Iuo stepped up to her side and provided the textbook answer, “Overseers. Security installments, designed to catalog the Prisonborne from any escaped prisoners. Among other measures.” The Lamia scanned their surroundings, looking more like a bodyguard than a Prince in his black tactical gear.

Tumu brought him along for the recitation of Vast Collective law and official observation of any arrests. Like when they tried Rayne for war crimes after she defeated Nox. The Lamias and the Tritans still sit in a precarious position with Tameka. They seemed far too impersonal about the very personal sacrifices the people of Earth and Cinder invested into their mutual existence.

This irked her.

The Officer of the Third emerged from the conduit last. All thirteen compressed feet of him. He gestured down the street aptly named Mercy’s Row. “The prison is there.”

Passed two blocks of warehouses and street vendors, a ziggurat formed the city’s center. Black, metal, and shiny. Enki’s Tribunal confined their criminals there from basic offenders to bad ass war criminals. Unfortunately, Tameka was all too familiar with unfair justice systems. And with people like Celindria at the top of their bureaucracy, it stood to reason one or two of those inmates were unjustly incarcerated. Hence why the Shadow opened the Iona facilities to accept those willing to reform as research volunteers.

“And the Emporium is this way.” Pehton startled them from behind. As they spun on her, she stifled a grin. “Sorry.” Short with pitch black skin, even her lips. Hard red eyes like garnets. Bright orange feathers for hair. The Lyriks grew their armor from their skin. Always in an electric blue, it covered the Executive Warden from her neck to her boots. She even encased her fingers in blue gloves.

Things must be bad for her to forgo even a peek of skin.

Tameka hugged her, returning the startling favor. Pehton stiffened before awkwardly patting her shoulder. “Thank you for helping us look for Sagan. I’m sorry it’s endangering you.”

They pulled apart, and the Lyrik tugged her chain with a flippant shrug. “The Shadow’s worth it. Besides, I can’t wait to see how Razor will react to your arrival.”

Tameka winced.

“Excuse me?” Tumu did not sound happy.

Iuo cleared his throat and ducked his eyes. “May I ask why we’re going to the pain factory? That wasn’t an objective in this mission.”

Tameka turned and faced the agitated Tritan. “You two don’t have to go with me. But I’m questioning this sleazeball—”

Pehton cackled, “This will be good.”

“—We know he did something to Sagan. And he has Matt. I’m starting with Razor. Pehton’s my back up. You’re free to wait here.”

Tumu put one hand on his hip and used the other to pinch between his eyes, shaking his head all the while. Eventually, he sighed. “Fine.”

Iuo winced. Every muscle in his body—and they were significant—tensed in an uncomfortable shudder. “A den of that caliber would surely compromise my—”

“You’re coming with us.” Tumu pushed him along and led the way.

Tameka wasn’t sure what to expect of Razor’s Emporium of Exotic Experiences. The renovated and updated warehouse of tin, steel, and glass wasn’t what she had in mind. The sign blazed on the sky, heralding the droves of well-dressed people corralled by a velvet rope. Some guests exited anti-grav cars and entered straight along a red carpet. There was no wait for the VIPs. They sauntered by the six Monarch 3 drones, bouncing for the extra large revolving door.

As they approached it with many curious stares, Tameka considered her dress. Bright yellow to compliment her warm skin, but short and revealing. Something nudged her, and she glanced back to find Iuo offering his black jacket. Feeling exposed, she accepted it and gave a smile in exchange.

Pehton led them right through and into the lion’s den. More mingling and fancy dancing than grinding in this crowd.

The Lyrik pressed her lips to Tameka’s ear. “I forgot to mention. Razor returned from Earth today. He looked pleased with himself. That doesn’t bode well for your Shadow.”

“Our Shadow, Pehton,” Tameka corrected. They wanted her in the family. “We’ll figure out what he’s up to and stop him. But first, I want to work out what he did with Sagan.”

“She’s perfectly safe resting in my bed, Sovereign Ambassador.”

Tameka’s skin wanted to crawl off her bones and run away. Stiffly, she turned to face the source of the pleasant male voice with no respect for his own longevity.

Razor smiled innocently in her face from six inches above her. The gray tux, top hat, and cane failed to impress her. But his appearance sure freaked her out. A rich black complexion with short black hair and yellow eyes. Not tan with red hair and two-toned green and orange eyes, as Sagan described him.

It rose the hair on Fury’s arms more than his disgusting words. The longer she gazed at him without responding, the wilder his eyes became. Brighter, glittering with mischief, and utterly enticed.

Pehton and Tumu flanked her. The Executive Warden glared at the red-feathered Lyrik on Razor’s arm. The Officer of the Third narrowed his gaze at Matt on the Pain Curator’s other side. Iuo shuffled uncomfortably in the tension. But Tameka trusted him to back her up.

After a long, measuring silence, she demanded, “Give Sagan back.”

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A manic smile spread across Razor’s unfortunately attractive mouth. There wasn’t anything unattractive about the man, aside from his entire existence. Excited and impressed, he shook his head. He spared a glance at the Lyrik—Triss was her name—who beamed back at him, also impressed. And a glance to Matt whose nod indicated an “I told you so.”

The Pain Curator confessed, “The Progeny women are so damned impressive.” This time he addressed Tumu as his voice hardened, “Coming into my establishment, unannounced. Interrupting a private event. Making demands. Iuo.” Abruptly, he turned to the Lamia who nearly melted into a puddle of mortification. “Would you like your regular booth tonight? Or are you here for an advanced and exclusive preview of the next auction’s wares?”

The other participants in this conversation looked at Iuo to explain himself. Rather than supply a defense, he chafed one arm and refused to meet Razor’s knowing eyes.

Tameka waved her hand. “I’m not interested in this nonsense. Or in your false indignation. I know you’re thrilled to meet me. It’s vibrating off you in waves.” She let him see how much he disgusted her as she gestured at him from head to toe. “You bring Sagan to me, or I’ll get her myself. Either way, she’s leaving this planet with us.”

“No wonder you named yourself Fury.”

Fed up, she stepped into his personal space. He held off Triss and surprisingly Matt, who was supposed to be on their side. Standing on her tiptoes, she put her face inches from his. Quietly, coldly, she warned, “I don’t know what you are. Or how you built your empire here. It doesn’t matter to me, Razor. All that matters, is my sister. I am about to fuck up your party if you don’t let me have her. Or at least let me see her.”

Razor’s yellow eyes searched hers, measured some capacity he sought in her ferocity. He chewed on her threat. Tasted it. Until eventually, his eyes darkened and his smile fell. Lost. Sad. He swallowed before declaring in a sorrowful tone, “You will never see her again. I recommend you move on with your life and raise that beautiful little boy of yours—”

Only Tameka’s people and Matt were left standing.

And Razor.

But she knew that would happen. Pehton told them in Enki. The Pain Curator possessed no nacre. Razor took in the scene and knelt to check Triss’ pulse. Satisfied, he glanced back at Tameka, looking pleased with himself.

Fury drank every nacre in the place to unconsciousness. Her body thrummed with their energy. It begged for release.

Tumu touched her shoulder. “We should leave.”

Tameka whirled on him. Her voice cried in three pitches, “How can you say that?”

The Tritan looked far too solemn as he elaborated, “This compromises—”

“Matt. Pehton. Remove them from the premises. Officer of the Third, on your way out, explain to your ward the number of criminal offenses she’s committed tonight. And warn her about self-control before she finds herself in a cell with the Icarean General.” Razor lifted Triss gently from the floor before leveling his gaze at Iuo. “You and I will talk at your next visit. Good night.”

Alive. On fire inside. Tameka drowned in so much power she barely heard Razor’s self-righteous admonishments. She knew of only two options.

Explode or transfer.

Ignoring everyone, she opened her wings and rocketed through the Emporium’s ceiling. Glass shattered and rained around her. Cries and curses followed her into Gait’s night.

Still, Tameka reached out farther and farther. The purple planet orbited one sun. And she ventured Enki planted a nacre in it, too.

Yes. There—

Wait.

It felt familiar. Not Li, but…

Losing time, Tameka fed the star, which was no stranger to her.

“Yo, Fury!” Pehton cried as she joined her in the sky. “Come on. We need to get you off this planet. Razor’s threatening to take you before the Tribunal.”

The well emptied once more. Tameka hugged herself. Her ability terrified her. She explored the energy transfer to some success, but the potential for explosion, implosion, whatever frightened her from delving into it. The confrontation with Razor made her consider it was time.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Tameka reminded Pehton, “I need to see Korac.”

“Right. I got the key from Matt. He’s convincing in his role with Razor, but he’s still here for the Shadow. As for Sagan, I can’t stress enough that she’s not here. But I don’t know where she is. Korac is the only one who may know.”

Not another word was said for some time.

Tension accompanied their ride down the prison lift like an invisible passenger. Tumu hid it well, but bristled all the same. Tameka compromised his role in the Vast Collective. Pehton’s, too. She wasn’t so sure about Iuo. He seemed plenty compromised on his own if Razor held anything over his head as implied.

The lift stopped, and Pehton stepped into the abyssal corridor. “This is Infernus block. I want to collect some things for him before we head down.”

Eager for a break, Tameka volunteered, “I’ll come with you.”

The Lyriki warden led the way. Her full-coverage armor reminded Tameka that she wore a mini dress under Iuo’s jacket. And this was a prison. Cautiously, she followed. The cell on her left was fortunately empty. Another. And another. Until she came upon a suite so luxurious it belonged in a palace. White silk sheets draped from the ceiling, affording privacy. With them pulled aside, Tameka took in the extra plush bed, the racks of designer clothes, and the bathroom storage spilling with expensive products.

“Do you supply all your prisoners with this level of extravagance? It’s good to know seeing as I might do some time in here.”

Pehton laughed awkwardly and stood with a pack of goodies. “This was all Sagan’s doing.”

Tameka recoiled.

The Lyrik exited the cell and shot the Progeny a pitying look. “She spoils the Icarus rotten. And I conceded to it after the gym equipment appeared.” Pehton led them back down the corridor. “I’ve never seen a couple so infatuated with each other. He’s completely devoted to her. We spent plenty of time alone together recently, and he never once came onto me. When he wasn’t talking business, he was talking about her. It’s disgustingly endearing.”

Tameka tried not to roll her eyes, but restraint wasn’t in her today. “I’m sure he loved all the time she spent with Razor on her mission.”

Pehton stopped and waited for Tameka to face her before correcting, “He never disrespected her like that. It was quite the opposite. He admired her dedication to the Shadow. To the Progeny. And he spoke of it often.” She brushed by Tameka while finishing her point. “I honestly can’t imagine the futile hell he’s in, unable to help her.”

Tameka shared the sentiment, and it burned her. Korac committed quite a few atrocities for his part in the invasion of Earth. And to some extent, he held some responsibility for Xelan’s death. Tameka read Nox’s Verse. She knew of Xelan and Korac’s intimate relationship. It lasted at least a million years. Hard to compete with that. But Tameka was confident her relationship with Cinder’s Traitor Prince was more than a rebound. No concerns there. Yet she worried how she might react if the Icarean General so much as mentioned her lover. After the display earlier today, she might drain his nacre completely dry.

They reached the lift before Tameka could ask more questions. Seeking comfort, she twirled the pendant on her chain. Rayne would praise her for the measures taken earlier. Hell, Rayne would level Gait already. Diplomacy complicated things.

“Tumu, can you disable the barrier?” Pehton gestured to the control panel.

The Tritan pressed his hand firmly against the seal. His blood smelled of coconuts and pineapples. The Lyrik sang into the locking mechanism at the same time. She commanded, “Beneath Infernus.” It proceeded down one more level.

Into utter darkness. No light—

A hand clasped over Tameka’s mouth and jerked her against a warm, hard body. Immediately, she reached out to drain the offender’s nacre dry, but nothing happened.

“Let me out of this cell, and I’ll make yours a quick death.”

It aggravated Tameka to no end that she’d never misplace the man’s elegant cadence in that irritatingly pleasant tenor. “Korac! It’s me. Tameka!” Her voice came out muffled against his palm.

The Icarus released her immediately. “Sovereign Ambassador?”

Pehton cried. “Korac, how the fuck did you get out of those chains?!”

The lights invaded the space with a harsh white glow. Tumu raised the glow wand over the lift. Iuo already broke out the stenography equipment. Looking past Tameka, the Lamia’s mouth fell open. The Tritan also looked beyond her to the Icarus at her back. Amusement glittered in his voids. Pehton gaped. Those garnet eyes grew wider than the Hope Diamond.

Did Tameka even want to see? Placing her hands on her hips, she hung her head with the disgrace of it all. A little put out, she hated to ask the man behind her, “Korac, are you naked?”

“Not by choice I assure you.”

Just perfect.