Page 84 of Under the Iron Sky

That smile vanished, however, when he realized the sadness creeping into her eyes wasn’t for herself—it was for him.

“Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m one of your broken machines in need of repair. We are enemies, Vous Mylista, and we always will be.” Her nose crinkled at that name she so clearly hated. Good. Let her remember how cruel he was. How this truce between them was only a temporary circumstance of their situation, and once they got out of here, they’d pick up right where they left off.

She opened her mouth, to agree, he was sure—because she always had to have the last word, didn’t she—but then the shadows on the other ledge began to move.

Ikarus’s head snapped toward them, the human did the same, and she was just fast enough to unsheathe the handgun strapped to her thigh and take aim before a cold, hair-raising power swept through the cave and Aeris appeared.

“Unless you would like me to phase to the top of a very tall tower and drop you off it,” he seethed, his voice deep and precise like the sharpening of a sword across a whetstone, “then I suggest you lower that thing. Immediately.”

Malakai stepped out from behind him sporting a fresh bruise on his cheek. He looked at Ikarus, at how close he and the human were sitting, and grinned. “My, my. Don’t you two look cozy.”

26

The spy was late. Again. Three days late, if Theron felt like being bitchy about it. Which apparently he did.

He’d hardly believed it when he got to the observatory on their usual day, a mixture of nerves and dread zipping across his skin like a horde of insects trapped in a glass jar, and found not the broad figure veiled in shadow he’d been expecting but a piece of parchment on the rusty floor, weighed down by a smooth black stone.

Busy.

Come back in three days.

M

Which was why Theron was standing here now, sunrifle strapped across his back, doing his best to rein in his mounting irritation and not feel like a hound that’d been called upon and then left high and dry.

Twiigs looked up from where he’d been examining the observatory’s armillary, rotted to such a degree the arrow in the center of the device was now forever stuck pointing to the sun statue a few miles northwest of here. “I would refrain from tapping your foot like that. This building is old and rusting. Carry on and you will no doubt fall through the floor.”

Theron obeyed, but only to begin tapping his pistol against his thigh instead.

Twiigs sighed. “Are you aware that that is not any less annoying?”

Theron glared at the bird, suddenly understanding why Soraya had shot the thing all those weeks ago. “You don’t have to be here, you know? You could just as easily stay in the jet.” Or back at base. Anywhere far, far away from Theron would’ve been preferable.

Twiigs hopped across the armillary disks, balancing on the very tip of the arrow. “Soraya gave me a new life. She did not need to, but she did. It is my responsibility now to ensure hers is not cut short.”

Well … shit. With no answer to that, Theron began counting cracks in the ceiling. Again.

Half an hour later, Theron’s patience was just about as frayed as he could take. Biting down on his tongue to keep from screaming, he slipped his gun into the holster against his thigh and started toward the stairs. What a colossal waste of time and fuel—

The doors below groaned open.

Twiigs quickly flew across the open room and had just landed on Theron’s shoulder when footsteps began clanking up the winding stairs.

Jinx prowled across the shadows, paws silent on the iron floor.

Theron flexed two fingers. Stand down.

Ma’varea’s iron helmet popped up first, then his armored shoulders. “Human,” he said as he cleared the final step.

“Ma’varea,” Theron greeted back just as icily, not letting his eyes stray an inch as Jinx tracked the newcomer’s every movement and stalked behind him, still concealed in darkness, getting into position, just in case.

Ma’varea strode across the deck, and Theron’s eyes narrowed slightly, taking in the slight limp the spy was obviously trying to hide. “What happened to you?”

It was barely audible, but a soft groan escaped that helmet when he leaned against the railing that looked out to sea. “Just got into a little fight a few nights ago. Don’t worry about it.”