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The stone floor.
Same floor as Duncan’s prison cell.
A split-second later, five ascenders appeared in front of them and the woman fell silent, staring at up at them, a hard glint in her dark eyes.
Vela turned, not in shock, but in determination. She started to pull Samuel back through the darkening, but two squads of wrecking crews arrived, shotguns in hand, cutting off their escape.
Behind them, a very familiar Third ascender appeared, stroking his black goatee.
“Welcome back, Samuel. Did you enjoy your year of freedom?” He spread his hands wide, “It took some doing, some careful manipulation, but here you are. ”
“You motherfucker,” Samuel shouted, raising his sword.
“But he took the butt of a shotgun to the back of his head, felt the added jolt of preternatural power, and flew face forward at his torturer’s feet.
The last thing he heard was Sharav saying, “Don’t touch the sword, you idiot; it’s identified. ”
Chapter Eight
Vela stared down at Samuel, now laid out on the stone floor, unconscious.
This couldn’t be happening.
“Look at all that blond hair,” the woman said. “Can’t be a warrior. Not this one. Way too girlie. ” Vela pivoted and watched the decoy rise to her feet, a very powerful looking woman who touched the numerous ropes and folded them away. Underneath, she wore flight battle gear. She planted her hands on her hips and offered a knowing smile.
A hand caught Vela’s arm and held her fast. She turned and stared at one of th
e wreckers. She didn’t even try to pull away from him; her body seemed frozen, incapable of movement.
Sharav lifted his wrist to his mouth and spoke softly. The next moment, an explosion sounded behind her, so loud that she gave a cry and tried to cover her ears, but the wrecker jerked her arm, forcing her to hold still.
He turned her to face the direction of the blast. A shotgun had just taken out the darkening wall, the smoky ash boiling past the breach, obscuring what lay beyond.
He yanked her through the breach, into a stone cell, on Third Earth proper, a very familiar cell. The air smelled funny, tainted, then she looked at the floor.
Blood.
She covered her mouth with her hand. This had been Duncan’s cell. She stood in the remnants of his blood.
Samuel arrived next, carried by three wreckers, his head lolling. She stood by helpless as they bound him with heavy ropes, each length carrying a preternatural charge. They strung him up by his wrists from a swivel hook on the ceiling.
Two of them caught her beneath her arms, pulled her backward, then bound her with rope to wrought iron rings on a wall ten feet from Samuel.
The odd thought went through her head that for an advanced, more powerful civilization, Third Earth still relied on some very ancient methods.
Sharav emerged from the darkening tunnel, the looped braids beside his face swinging as he moved.
He smiled, the easy smile of a powerful man who owned the room.
“How do you do Vela Stillwell of Phoenix Two? Are you comfortable?” She lifted her arms, pulling at the ropes that bound her to the wall. “I’d be more comfortable in a recliner, but so far I can’t complain. ”
“At least you’re not sniveling and begging to be released. ”
“How about this: fuck you, Sharav. ”
“And you know my name. ”
“I know the man who tortured Samuel. ”
