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  As they rode up the narrow trail from the beach to the back of the lightless stone building, Desmond couldn't have been happier that Harlan had hung on to it. “I'm glad your mom never had any interest in neighbors,” he whispered to his sister. They had ridden in silence most of the way over. The lack of conversation was not only for safety but also because they were both obsessing over their own fears.

  “Even so, we should probably forgo the stalls. We can stake the hyperia here behind the house. Dragon's going to break off of the Quarent Road near the southern trace and wait for us. I told him if we didn't catch up to them by the end of the day tomorrow, to go on to the Queendom without us.” Gypsy slid off her mount and pulled a loop spike from her saddle bag. She drove it into the muddy sand and stomped on it until it was embedded securely. Then she knotted her mount’s reins through the metal hook.

  Desmond dismounted and secured his animal in the same way. “You shouldn't have told them to wait. Megolyth would be just as happy to catch them for bait.”

  Gypsy took a sip from her canteen. “Well, it's done. I can't exactly send him a messenger. Besides, none of them know how to get to the Queendom either. They need us for directions and protection.”

  Desmond heard Gypsy crunching down the gravel walkway toward the rear entrance. He fell in behind her.

  They crept through the darkness, down a short stone hallway that ended at a black wooden door. He could just barely see the outline of a metal knocker and matching push lock handle. He stopped just short of bumping into her. “You have a key, right?”

  “Of course not. Why would I have a key? Gavin was far too worried I’d borrow some of his prize weapons. He wouldn’t want my girl germs all over them, trust me.” A faint smile crossed her lips then her face darkened in grief. She reached into her boot and pulled out her dagger. “Besides, I don't need a key.”

  “I guess you don’t. Remind me someday to have you teach me your locksmith skills. After all, I did teach you every dirty trick I know in swordplay.”

  She grimaced. “Yeah, I still have the scars.”

  “Is there any other way to learn?”

  Before the last word escaped his mouth, a pop sounded from the lock. The door opened inward with a muted shriek. Immediately the smell of blood ruled the air. The rear entrance spilled out into the kitchen where the scent strengthened. Desmond hoped the meat cooler had broken, but he was only fooling himself. The odor was far too familiar for a battle hardened warrior like himself. The smell of death was different for every creature, be it AEssyrian, Kirillian, human, hyperia, boar, or raptor. Each smell had its own subtle signature. The smell in this villa was unquestionably AEssyrian, and whoever it was had been here for at least a day.

  Gypsy froze in her tracks, shaken. Both of them stood, not speaking, until his sister broke the silence with a trembling voice. “Could it be my mom?”

  “No, it’s an AEssyrian,” he said firmly enough to extinguish any doubt. “It couldn’t be her. Tannyth said Harlan was taken by the Razorbacks.” He turned his attention to Gypsy. “Who’s normally here taking care of the place?”

  In a voice that was barely a whisper, Gypsy said, “Lana.” A few breaths of silence followed then she continued. “Lana’s been the housekeeper for both homes ever since I was young. A few months ago Missy started pitching a fit about staying at the Royal Nursery, so mom just brought her to work instead. If there was a heavy surgery schedule she'd ask Lana to bring her out to Fossix for the day and care for her. Both of Lana's sons are in the army and even survived the war with the Triumvirate. Now their mother's dead by the same hand her boys had sworn to protect. Why would they kill her? She was no threat to anyone.”

  Desmond could see tears pooling in Gypsy's eyes. “She probably refused to hand Missy over.”

  Gypsy pulled in a ragged breath. “Then Missy might have seen it.”

  Desmond arched his back trying to loosen muscles stiff from the ride. Gypsy looked miserable, but he was at a loss for how to comfort her. He was full up and couldn’t deal with any more sadness. “Look, you stay here and get the food. I'll grab whatever you need from upstairs.”

  The moons were bright enough to illuminate some areas of the house, but most were left in darkness. Although rattled from the cruelty of the loss, Gypsy managed to give him directions through the home. The last time he had been here was when he'd come to interrupt Caraculla from his drug-fueled intrusion. Everything seemed so long ago he could barely remember when that had been.

  Gypsy snapped her fingers at him to get his attention. It was highly annoying. “We need to get out of here quickly. I'm going to grab a map from the library and then collect as much food as I can pack. You go upstairs. Missy's room is the first door to the right. Grab some of her clothes and anything else you think she might need. My parents’ room is at the end of the hall. Just before you go in, there's a studded steel door to your left. It's the only one padlocked. That's Gavin's armory. He hides the key in the bedroom. You’ll find it inside the statue of Dargannon on the fireplace mantle. Gavin is only slightly larger than you so you should probably grab some extra clothes.”

  Desmond shifted uncomfortably at his sister's suggestion. “Okay, I'll get everything. But not Gavin's clothes.”

  Gypsy stared at him, incredulous. “Why not? What are you so squeamish about? I'm not telling you to wear his uniform, just take a tunic or extra pants in case you need them.”

  “I don’t even like being in his home...or his presence. I'm not wearing his clothes. It’s too weird.”

  “Fine. I don't care what you do, but you're being an idiot.”

  “It's not your concern. Anyway what about you? Do you need any clothes from here?”

  “Are you kidding me? I'm a woman. I've always got extra clothes in my saddlebag. Just get weapons and stuff for Missy.” Pulling a cloth sack from a bottom cupboard, she began filling it with food from the pantry.

  Desmond headed toward the stairs, taking care not to stumble over any furniture in the remaining shadows. A hasty glance toward the den revealed a dark figure sprawled on the floor by the hearth. He went over just to confirm it was who they thought it was. The stench of early decomposition grew stronger as he got closer. Sure enough, it was a woman. Desmond diverted to the stairs.

  “Hey, Desmond?” Gypsy called out in a harsh whisper.

  “Yeah?”

  “Lana sewed and stuffed a dragon toy for Missy when she was just a baby. It might make her feel a little better. If you can find it, will you grab it?” The worry and grief entwined in her words hung in the air with a tiny bite of hope.

  “Sure. I'll find it.” Then as an afterthought he added, “Make sure to stay out of the den. I’ll get the maps.” He made a mental note to bury Lana away from the villa before they left. He didn’t have time to scrub up the blood, but at least he could get her body out of here.

  Chapter 16

  A crisp, swirling breeze brought some welcome comfort to the usually oppressive atmosphere of the city. Trajan sat alone on the whorehouse balcony with his boots propped up on the railing, admiring the night's sky. Absently scratching his bare chest he noticed that the stars were unusually bright. The three moons were in different phases; one small and full, another bigger showing only the crescent, and the biggest so bright and clear he could easily make out the rings around it.

  Pulling his gaze from the sky he stared in at the woman he’d been with tonight. She was on the bed face down and snoring, her naked body partially covered by a red knit blanket. Her slender shoulders were buried under a cascade of brown curls. He wished sleep came so easily for him, but it was never to be in the city. Even at this late hour too much bustle and noise kept him on edge. Drunken fights broke out in the street hourly. Sometimes soldiers or guards would break them up. Most times they'd work themselves out with no intervention.

  Downstairs in the main parlor the patrons could be heard yelling about their card games, their whores, and their liquor. He heard and processed ev
erything, always in search of a threat. The acrid city smells were even more unpleasant than the noise and people. Trajan felt more relaxed in a forest full of predators than he did safely locked in a room with his favorite whore.

  Time spent in the city made him miss being a bounty hunter, but one couldn't dismiss the perks of a steady paycheck. Besides, for the most part he got to stay close by his parents and sister. That in itself was worth some of the inconvenience of being an army scout.

  A heavy knock on the door jarred him from his thoughts. Trajan got up, pulling his uniform shirt off the back of a chair he passed on his way to the door. He slipped it on but didn't bother to button it. With his boot braced firmly against the bottom of the door he slid back the latch, allowing the door to open a crack.

  Master Sergeant Rakon stood only a foot from the threshold, looking pensive. Trajan had scouted for the Razorback during a marauder policing here and there, but didn't really know him that well. Seeing him in this unfamiliar context set his nerves ablaze.

  Rakon glanced over his shoulder. Then he met Trajan’s gaze. “You busy?”

  Trajan shrugged and glanced at the bed. “Not anymore.”

  He took a few steps back to let Rakon in. The Master Sergeant entered and Trajan went to the bedside table to turn on the light. The prostitute groaned and rolled over, covering her eyes with her forearm.

  Trajan pulled some money out of his pocket and held it out to her. “Could you leave us please?”

  She eyed the coins then grabbed them, seemingly satisfied. The woman climbed out of bed. She was thin but large breasted. Both he and Rakon watched as she plucked her emerald green dress off of the bedpost. She stepped into the snug garment and shimmied it up her body just high enough to cover her nipples.

  Gracing both men with a recruiter's smile, she said sweetly, “Are you sure you boys want me to go? Maybe we can work out a deal.”

  “No. Thanks for the offer,” Trajan replied before Rakon took her up on it.

  The young woman shrugged and was sauntering over toward the door when she froze in mid-gait, her eyes searching for something behind Rakon.

  “Who’s that?” The sweetness in her tone had evaporated, taking on a brusque, nasty edge that caught Trajan off guard. “We don’t do that kind of thing here! Get her out of here you piece of filth, or I’ll call the madam!”

  Rakon pulled a very small child out from behind him. Although the head and most of the face were covered by a black scarf, Trajan knew who it was. The crystal blue-gold eyes and beige skin surrounding them was a clear indication of her identity. He had to give credit to whoever was smart enough to disguise her, but if you had seen her as many times as he had at the hospital, she was instantly recognizable.

  Rakon gave the woman a harsh shove toward the door. “Shut yer yap you stupid whore. She’s not here for anything like that. Now stick your nose in your own business and get the fuck out.”

  Used to dealing with less than civil males, the woman ignored him and approached Missy. She knelt down but the little girl shied away, pushing herself closer to Rakon while hugging his arm.

  “Do you need help?”

  Missy made hard eye contact with the woman and gave a vigorous shake of her head. The woman was tense but appeared satisfied. She gave both men a scalding look and hesitated for a few seconds before stomping out the door. Rakon followed behind and, when she had left, slammed and locked the door behind her.

  Trajan sat on the bed as Rakon pulled up a chair and sat so they were facing each other. Rakon gestured for Missy to come closer. She was hanging back studying Trajan but slowly approached with her eyes darting back to the Razorback for assurance. Rakon removed the scarf draped around her face.

  “What is she doing here?” Trajan asked.

  “No fucking idea. I found her downstairs looking for you. My face was happily planted between a whore's tits and suddenly she’s there, tugging at my sleeve. At first I thought she was looking for Gavin, but then she kept repeating your name.”

  “Bethara said come help,” Missy interrupted. Looking at Rakon almost pleadingly she said, “Daddy’s hurt.”

  Trajan rested his forearms on his knees and leaned down so he wouldn’t appear as large. “Come here, Missy.”

  She kept her eyes on Rakon while approaching Trajan. When she was about two feet away she stopped and shifted her eyes to him.

  “What happened to Gavin?” Trajan asked.

  A chasm of sadness briefly contorted her features but she didn't cry. “Somebody cut him at jail.” She gestured to her chest. “Gypsy promised he's not dead. Dragon...” She hesitated. “Dragon made him sleep; made him stone.”

  Trajan exchanged glances with Rakon. If that was true, things in the Empire were worse than anyone had imagined. “Where is your mother?”

  “Lady at the graves said gone with Razorbacks.” The little girl frowned but didn't seem to know what that meant.

  “Lady at the graves? What the hell is this kid talking about?” Rakon said.

  Trajan waved his hand at him to be quiet. The Master Sergeant obviously had little experience talking to children. Thankfully, Trajan had grown up with a baby sister of his own. They always spoke truths at this age. One merely needed to interpret the words and work the puzzle.

  Addressing Rakon first, he responded, “I really don't know. I don't even think she knows.” Then he leaned down closer to her. “Missy, is Bethara at the hospital?”

  “Yes. Dragon said to get Trajan fast.” Missy grabbed his wrist and pulled on it frantically.

  Placing his hand over hers to calm her, he looked up at the Master Sergeant. “Do you know what’s going on?” Missy was now tugging on him with all her strength. Her fear was deeply troubling.

  Rakon got to his feet, shaking his head. “Still no fucking idea. I’d heard a few rumors the Emperor was having trouble paying the troops and guards, but that was it. If he did something to Gavin, then all the Therons are in trouble.”

  Trajan leaned back in his chair and studied Missy. “Are they running away from here?”

  “Yes. Scarlet, baby, Krull, and Dragon,” Missy replied letting go of his wrist and grabbing his hand instead.

  “Do you know where they're going?”

  “The Queen. Come now!” Her small voice was rising, teeming with frustration.

  The doorknob rattled and someone banged out several hard thumps against the aged wood. Missy jolted, putting her hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream.

  “This is the Imperial Guard. We have a report that you have a child in there! Open the damned door!”

  Trajan stood quickly and picked Missy up. He placed her on his hip.

  Rakon was up as well with his sword drawn. “Your stupid whore must have run her mouth to someone. Once they find out who she is, they’ll try and take her to the Emperor. We’ve got to get her out of here.”

  “I can get her out. What about you?”

  Rakon bared his teeth in the most frightening smile Trajan had ever seen. “They don’t want any part of me. They'll raise their swords until I give them a warning screech. No one wants a face full of venom. They'll shit themselves and run.”

  With Missy still on his hip, Trajan returned to the balcony and slipped out to the left side of the double doors. As calmly as he could he looked at Missy and said, “Hang onto my neck. We are going to jump, so there's going to be a hard bump. Don’t let go no matter what. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Missy climbed around to his back and wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs around his upper waist. She squeezed tightly. Trajan scaled the balcony railing and balanced on its slender top beam. Inside the bedroom he heard the crack of the door giving way. A harsh exchange of words with Rakon followed, along with the ringing clash of metal. Several weighty footsteps rushed to the balcony. Trajan hated to do this with Missy, but their current predicament left him little choice. The fact that she weighed less than a backpack made it much easier for him to maneuver.
His main worry was whether she was strong enough to keep her hold.

  Trajan turned to face the building then he stepped off the railing. He plunged quickly, but just as the balcony came to eye level, he grabbed the landing. His body jerked to a stop. Swinging back and forth for a moment, he waited for Missy to readjust her grip. Still terrified she would shake loose and fall, he let go and dropped to the ground, landing in a crouch. Missy still had a firm grasp on him.

  Three Imperial Guards appeared on the balcony.

  “Stop by order of the crown!” one yelled down at them.

  Trajan knew he didn’t have much time to escape. But if what Rakon had said was true, the guards were still waiting for their pay. He hoped they were not motivated enough to jump from the balcony to pursue them. So as not to spook his hyperia, he walked into the livery as calmly as he could.

  Trajan found his animal and led it from the stall. Then he mounted with Missy still clinging to his neck. As he rode out of the barn he felt the child release her hold and lower herself down to sit behind him. He reached back and scooped her around to sit in front of him. With small hands she gripped the front of the saddle while Trajan wrapped an arm around her waist. Then he spurred his mount and took off at a full gallop bound for the Imperial Hospital.

  Chapter 17

  Gavin's head was on a pike near the city gates with Gypsy’s and Missy's next to it. She couldn't find Desmond, Kharon, or even Dragon no matter how much she searched. She had to run. Someone was chasing her. Harlan awoke, gasping from the terrible nightmare. Everything conjured in her sleep had vanished. As hard as she tried she could barely recall the terrifying images. Something awful had happened to Gavin and her babies. The ghostly residue of the nightmare disappeared from her mind leaving only the fear.

  She smoothed her hand along her forehead and tried to orient herself with her surroundings. There was a dull ache in her skull accompanied by a sharp stabbing pain radiating from the back of her head. Sliding her hand through her hairline and up the back of her neck, she felt a small wound. A sharp sting seized her senses when her fingertips touched it. It felt like a puncture, but she didn't detect any damp ooze, just some dried crust, so she decided to ignore it for now.