Here's your delivery! I hope you enjoy it :)

-Plum

32 – Play Dead

As he walked down the trail toward the gym, Hector ate a protein bar and reflected on his mood. It seemed like a cliché, but he felt lighter; sharing his burden—his history and his need for vengeance—with Gladia had lifted a tangible weight from his mind. She’d taken things better than he’d hoped, too, which added to the lightness of his steps.

Part of him refused to be optimistic, though. That always-harsh inner voice continued to grouse as he walked along. She’s a political creature, so you can only trust her words so far. Hector shrugged at the idea, taking another bite. He’d chosen to trust her, and when he’d made that decision, he’d known full well who she was. Easy for her to say she accepts you—so long as you want the same people dead. What happens when you come face to face with dear Uncle Alistair?

Hector pushed the voice out of his mind. There was no denying that he had his reservations, but he wasn’t interested in dwelling on them at the moment. He could see Sass waiting for him outside the gym, sitting on one of the planters. He waved, and she jumped to her feet, waving back. As he drew near, he called out, “Sorry I took a while—my meeting with Gladia went longer than I expected.”

Sass shrugged, and he could see that her pale-blue training suit was dark with sweat. “I got a good workout in, like you said.”

“Good.” Hector looked at the gym, thought about going in, but shook his head. Freddy was in there with Burton, and he didn’t want Sass distracted. Besides, he had his own reasons for not wanting to be scrutinized while he trained. He threw his protein bar wrapper in a trashcan, then pointed to a nearby awning, beneath which three of Sparling’s off-road buggies sat. “Let’s borrow one of those.”

“We’re leaving?”

Hector nodded. “Not far. Just away from all this.” He waved his hand at the enormous gym, the stable, and the house. Together they approached one of the buggies, and he said, “Can you start it, Evie?”

//Yes. The access codes that Sparling gave you extend to the vehicles.//

“How’s Evie?” Sass asked, climbing into the passenger seat.

“She’s fine.” Hector smiled crookedly, accepting the unspoken request for him to reciprocate the question. “How’s Merlin?”

“Good! I only need eighteen more potentia to reach level four, and he thinks at level five there will be some interesting options for me.”

Hector nodded. “That makes sense.”

“Burton said he was going to have one of his agents work on a schedule for me—small tournaments with potentia prizes.”

“Yeah?” Hector arched an eyebrow, glancing at her. “Where?”

“In the cities where you’ll be competing.”

“Well, shit.” He chuckled. “That’s damn nice of him.”

Sass laughed, turning in her seat to look at him. “You seem different.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know. It’s your vibe, I guess—less murdery.”

He laughed as he pressed the accelerator on the little buggy and it hummed forward a few feet. Pausing, Hector thought for a moment, then turned the wheel toward the ranch house. “We’ll stop by the kitchen. You can run in and grab us some snacks and water.”

Sass nodded. “Right!”

A few minutes later, with a sack of supplies in the small back seat, Hector drove them down through the vale, past the gym, and around the slope of a nearby hill. Once they were out of sight of the ranch, he picked a flat area with relatively smooth ground and pulled the buggy to a stop. “This’ll do.”

“So…what’s the plan?” Sass asked as they both climbed out of the vehicle.

Hector pointed to the area of flat ground. “Come over here.”

“Hey!” Sass said, following along behind him. “You’re wearing a knife?”

He nodded, patting the sheath that hung from his belt. “I’ll need to hide my aura from some people I’ll be sparring.”

“So…” Sass frowned, looking at him sideways. “No aura abilities?”

“None that I can’t keep inside.”

“But your eyes always glow, and even when you do your boosts, your body lights up with red flames, and—”

“There’s a technique you’ll begin to learn called aura suppression. Have you ever noticed how Flint sometimes walks around with his aura fully visible, even though he’s not doing anything?”

She nodded. “Yeah, sometimes. Kristy said he was showing off.”

Hector snorted. “Probably because I said that back when we were all training together for the rift. The truth is—”

“I think I know what you’re going to say,” Sass interrupted, holding up her finger so he’d pause. “When you watch the high-rank tournaments and stuff, they talk about how some fighters have more aura control.”

“Right. That’s Flint’s natural state now—glowing. Once you spend a certain amount of potentia on your corpus vivum, it starts to show. You have to exert some control over it if you don’t want that to happen. It takes practice, and it’s not effortless. Even when you’re good at it, it can get tiring.”

“But that’s just his natural aura—you’re talking about hiding abilities, too?”

Hector nodded. “Yeah. I can hide a Speed Boost pretty easily, unless I dump too much aura into it. Five or ten, though?” He chuckled as Sass’s eyes widened. “Not a problem.”

“Merlin says my pathways would fry if I tried more than a couple aura in a boost—not that I have one.”

“That’ll get better as you gain levels and build stronger archetypes.”

“Right.” She nodded, and Hector knew he was just reviewing things she’d learned long ago by reading every scrap of material she could get her hands on about aura systems.

“Today, I’ll try to wake up my old muscle memories when it comes to hiding aura, and you’ll practice summoning that big old sword of yours.”

“Oh, come on! Hector, I’ve been doing that on repeat for weeks!”

“This will be different. I’m going to give you some incentive, but you’ve got to promise you won’t get mad at me. Otherwise, we can head back in and you can wait for Burton to—”

“No!” Sass cried, grabbing his arm. “I promise.”

Grinning, Hector walked to one side of the clearing, motioning for her to follow him. “Stand here,” he said, then he turned, and using his AUI, walked away from her, measuring out exactly forty meters. He turned to face her, pulling his borrowed bowie knife from its sheath. “Can you hear me?” he called.

“Yes!” she called back.

“Okay,” he yelled. “Summon your Aura Blade before I get to you!” With that, he lifted his knife and ran toward her. He saw her eyes go wide, saw the panic on her face as her tattoo darkened and intensified to something fearsome, and then she held out her hands and he watched as misty white aura bloomed on her shoulders.

Hector didn’t run as fast as he could. He knew how long it would take her to summon that blade, and he wanted to give her a fighting chance. So, he timed his arrival at six seconds, using a countdown that Evie put on his AUI. He knew Sass could do it, but she’d never been pressured before, and seeing him coming, face a serious mask of fighting intent, was definitely having an effect. Still, he was three strides away when her blazing white sword flared to life in her hands and she took up a guard position.

Hector didn’t slow. He darted to the side, and thrust his knife forward in a quick—albeit clearly telegraphed—jab, forcing her to swoop her sword into a downward parry, knocking the blade aside. When Hector pulled back, grinning, Sass laughed and let her sword fade to white mist. “I did it!”

“Not bad!” Hector straightened, his wind already recovered. He’d been prepared to cut her—not badly, but enough to deliver a lesson that she couldn’t count on him to pull back. “You’ve been practicing your sword movements, too.”

She nodded quickly. “Mmhmm. With the practice swords, though. I can’t keep my Aura Blade long enough to make it worthwhile.”

Hector lifted the bowie knife, inspecting the blade. It seemed fine; he’d moved it with her sword’s momentum, so it hadn’t been hit very hard. “How did it feel? Performing that parry with your Aura Blade, I mean?”

“So much better than the practice swords! I hardly feel its weight—it’s light and my grip is effortless.”

Hector nodded. “That’s good. Ready to go again?”

Sass nodded enthusiastically. “Yes!”

“Okay, this time, I’ll use a one-aura Speed Boost.”

“Wait, what?”

“Be ready!” Hector said. Then, he focused on the spot where he’d begun his previous attack and performed a Ghost Leap. He figured he might as well get some practice in with the ability while they were at it. He wouldn’t be able to use it during his duels with Loyal’s people; it created a rift in space that flared with his aura color, and he couldn’t suppress that. No, he’d have to stick to Speed Boost, Apex Trance, and Veil Stalker. He was fairly sure he’d be able to contain his aura flare when those abilities activated.

He missed his destination with Ghost Leap by five meters, and he chided himself to keep his focus and stop thinking about the future. It was time to concentrate on the moment—on practice. Turning back to Sass, he called, “Get ready! I’m going to be faster this time!”

He looked back at Sass, watching her lick her lips. He could see she wanted to start early, but she understood the unspoken rule—she had to wait until Hector started running. Grinning almost evilly, he pushed a single point of aura into his Speed Boost, exerting long-dormant mental muscles to squeeze his aura toward the center of his chest, hiding it completely. Then, he charged.

#

As they ate, Lemon’s eyes kept drifting to the delicate, pink paper bag on the seat beside her. It contained her new PAI chip, and it was the most expensive thing she’d ever bought with her own money. For a few seconds, she’d considered it the most expensive thing she owned, but then she remembered the bracelet on her wrist. She’d become so accustomed to the comfortable, familiar weight and the understated beauty of the silvery metal, that it had slipped her mind.

Even so, Hector had given her that, and she’d spent her own savings on the PAI. True, she’d earned most of the money working with him and then Gladia, but it was hers. It felt momentous.

“What are you thinking about?” Kristy asked, sipping her draft beer. They were at a pizza restaurant, sitting on the patio. Flint had just contacted them, saying he was still twenty minutes from picking them up, and Kristy had taken the opportunity to get another drink.

Lemon looked at her own, half-full beer. She hadn’t felt much like drinking, but then, she’d never been a drinker, especially at lunch time. “Just my new PAI.”

“It’s really nice!” Kristy replied, enthusiastically. “Generative Systems are known for clever AIs.” Kristy licked some foam off her lips and burped as she finished speaking.

Lemon smiled at her. “You’re supposed to be my security.”

The fox-eared mercenary smiled. “I’m more dangerous when I’m buzzed.” When Lemon’s smile was maybe a little less enthusiastic than she’d wanted, she waved a hand and added, “Nothing’s going to happen in this cow town, anyway.”

Lemon looked up and down the quiet street. Vehicles passed occasionally, but there really wasn’t much traffic at all, and they were on the main thoroughfare. “It’s a nice little town. I like it as much as Kessler’s Reach.”

“Ugh, Kessler’s. Every time I hear the name, I think of the rift.” Kristy shuddered, putting her empty pint glass on the table.

“It was pretty bad in there, huh?”

The other woman nodded. “Thought we were well and thoroughly cooked a few times.” She barked a short laugh. “Honestly, I really did. I think I thought I was going to die—like legit, really believed it—five times.” Her fox ears twitched as a small smile reached her lips. “That Hector, though. That crazy son of a bitch—they didn’t count on him.”

“He won’t talk about it,” Lemon said, leaning forward. “Not really. He just says things like—” She cleared her throat and tried to affect a deep voice. “‘It was touch and go—had to kill a lot of rift denizens. We made it, though.’”

Kristy laughed. “That sounds about right. I’ll give you an example of what it was like. At one point, we were trying to go through this marshy area, and you had to stay up on these ridges where trees grew. If you fell down in the mud, giant crabs would come out and try to eat you. If you stepped in the water, fish with teeth the size of my pinky would rip the flesh off your bones.” She paused dramatically, looking into Lemon’s eyes. “Well, guess who fell in?”

“You?” Lemon’s eyes widened.

“Haha! Yep, and about half the others too. Thank the Sisters for Hector! He fished us out and killed about fifty crabs. I nearly lost a leg and he carried me on his shoulders out of there.” She smiled, her eyes going distant as she spoke, and Lemon tilted her head, watching as her ear twitched again.

“I’m sorry you went through that, but I’m glad you can smile about it.”

Kristy nodded. “Only way.”

Lemon leaned forward, reaching for Kristy’s thick, wavy white hair. The other woman recoiled, though, reaching up to brush Lemon’s hand back.

“What’s up?”

Lemon blushed, pulling back. “I’m sorry! I just got curious if you had human ears under there, or if your fox ears—”

Kristy smiled, exposing sharp canines, and pulled her hair aside, revealing the base of her fox ears. “No, they’re the real deal. I bought them about a year ago.”

“They’re very pretty,” Lemon said. “I like how the fur matches your hair.”

“Well, uh, thanks.” Kristy shrugged. “You’re, um, you’re pretty too…”

Lemon laughed. “I wasn’t fishing—just curious.”

The merc snorted softly, nodding as she looked toward the street. “Flint should be here soon. I’m glad we didn’t have to babysit those other guys while they were doing grocery shopping.”

Lemon agreed, to a degree, but she’d sort of wanted to go to the grocery store, too. There were snacks she’d been craving, but between her PAI shopping and the things she’d had to pick up for Gladia, Flint had insisted on them splitting up. It turned out that Kristy had good timing—either that or Flint had shared his location with her—because the SUV came around the corner at that very moment and pulled up to the curb.

“Ready?” Kristy asked.

Lemon nodded, picking up her little sack and the larger bag for Gladia. “Ready.”

The rear door opened and Dent stepped out. “Afternoon, ladies. Ready to go?”

“Yep,” Kristy replied, nimbly climbing into the back seat.

Lemon smiled at Dent and he held out his hands. “Here, we’ve got more room in the middle row for packages. The cargo area is full.”

She handed him the bags. “Thank you!”

A few moments later, they were all loaded up and the SUV was humming down the street, plotting its course back out to the barren countryside where Sparling kept his ranch. Flint looked over his shoulder, scanning the compartment and then settled his gaze on Lemon. “Found what you needed?”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “Good.” He sighed, and Lemon heard the motor on his seat humming as he reclined. “Day went quicker than I’d feared. We’ll be back before dinner.”

“So eager to be back in the middle butt-crack of nowhere?” Kristy asked, grinning at Lemon.

Lemon shook her head and mouthed, “You’re drunk.”

Kristy’s eyes widened, and Flint shifted to look back again, arching an eyebrow. “Damn, you’re getting pretty mouthy with me, Fox. I guess that’s good; I can’t get the others to spar with me seriously. Let’s have a workout when we get back, you and me.”

“Uh, wait…” Kristy started to say, but then the other guy—the quiet one that Lemon could almost forget was there—straightened up, lifted his hand and pressed something against Flint’s shoulder. It hissed, and Flint immediately began to convulse, his heavy, muscular body jerking back and forth so hard that the seat mechanism broke and he fully reclined, crushing the other man’s—Lemon had forgotten his name—legs.

He grunted in pain, leaning back, and Dent grabbed his wrist, squeezing. “What the hell did you—”

Kristy was already climbing over the seat, knocking Dent aside. A sparkling blue Aura Blade sizzled in her hand as she held it to the man’s throat. “What did you stick him with?” she growled.

The man’s jowls shook as he gasped and whimpered. He looked from Kristy to Dent, to the still convulsing Flint. “I—I’m sorry, everyone. They have my family.”

Everything had happened so quickly that Lemon was still struggling to figure out exactly what was happening. “Did he inject something in Flint?” she asked, feeling stupid.

“It’s an aura phage,” Dent said. “I’m sure.” He’d climbed onto the center console, bracing himself against Flint’s pile of gear which took up the rest of the front seat. He grasped the big bodyguard’s vest, trying to hold him still, then he looked over his shoulder. “I need help, dammit. We’ll deal with that guy later!”

Kristy nodded. “Stop the fucking vehicle! I can’t watch this asshole and help. I—”

Her words were cut short as rapid pops sounded from outside, and then staccato impacts that bizarrely reminded Lemon of rain when the wind whipped it up and sent it sideways against the front glass at the club back in J-district.

“Drones!” Kristy screamed, and then she was climbing back over the seat. “I need my gun!”

Dent sat up straight, a hand pressed to his pale-blue shirt. When he lifted it away, fingers splayed, it was drenched in blood, then more red spots appeared—on his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes. Lemon couldn’t make sense of any of it. The pops kept sounding, the rain kept falling. None of the windows broke, but there were tiny lights in the ceiling—

No, not lights. Holes.

The man, the one who’d injected Flint, was shaking, and red spots were appearing all over his face and neck.

“Needlers!” Kristy screamed, and Lemon looked at her to see she, too, had red dots appearing on her arm and shoulder. Her fox ear twitched and her white hair started to turn crimson. Finally, it all clicked, and Lemon realized what was happening.

She unbuckled and leaped at Kristy, knocking her flat on the seat and lying over her. The woman struggled for a moment, but then she was still, and Lemon could feel the hot, wet blood between them. She could also feel something else; her bracelet was getting warm. She looked at it, eyes widening as she saw the heat waves radiating from the metal.

Something boomed outside and a white flash washed her vision out. When it cleared, the world was quiet again, and the vehicle was rolling to a stop. Lemon lay there atop Kristy for several seconds, mind racing, wondering what she should do. She lifted her head to peer over the seat. Dent and the other man were dead—they were ruined, every centimeter of their bodies covered with blood.

The seats around them were shredded, too, and Lemon could see holes in the floor. Whatever they’d shot—needlers?—had torn through the vehicle from top to bottom. Flint was still shuddering, even though he, too, was slick with blood. Lemon looked down at Kristy, tears springing into her eyes as she saw how much blood was covering her pale skin.

Still, something gurgled in her throat and Lemon leaned close, catching the faintest of breaths coming from her nose. “Hold on, Kristy! I’m going to get help, I’m going—”

Lemon stopped short as the hum of another vehicle approaching broke the silence. Panicked, face painted with Kristy’s blood, she looked out the window. Sure enough, a sleek, dark-blue van was pulling up beside the dead SUV. Lemon licked her lips, trying to think of a plan. Only one thought came to her, one desperate idea: play dead.

She grabbed Kristy’s shirt, lay down in the gap between seats, and pulled her friend atop herself. When Kristy fell, her face was just centimeters from Lemon’s. One of the other woman’s eyes opened and bloody tears fell onto Lemon’s cheek. “Hush,” Lemon mouthed, a whisper so soft that it was a breath of air. “Play dead.”