Dark Immolation by Christopher Husberg

Author:Christopher Husberg
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Titan

29

Turandel

ASTRID WAITED.

Trave had agreed to meet her in a narrow alley. It was dark, although a few hours short of midnight, and Astrid looked down at the alley as she clung to the frame of a window, her toes curled around the sill.

The conversation with Trave after her reunion with Cabral a few days before had been awkward. She had expected Trave to still be furious with her, but he had not seemed so at all—which only made Astrid more suspicious. Trave’s emotions were dangerous, but he usually wore them openly. She didn’t like that she couldn’t read him. She was still baffled by the fear she had seen in his eye, like seeing a dog walk around on two legs.

Which was why Astrid was hiding above the alley. She was not about to throw herself into Trave’s company without first assessing the situation.

When Trave finally appeared, his eye illuminated the alley ahead of him like a crimson torch. He was alone. That did not necessarily make the situation better, but at least she knew her odds. At this point she was relying on Trave’s fear of Cabral to keep him in line, to keep him from betraying her, from… doing anything to her, really. She and Trave had a job to complete, and Trave would, she hoped, put off his revenge until it was finished. Then, Astrid feared, she might have a problem.

She dropped down silently from her hiding place, landing quietly in the street behind Trave. Trave turned. “Glad you showed up,” he said, his voice gruff.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” Astrid said.

“You and me both.”

They stood staring at one another for a moment. Astrid felt her instincts tugging at her, pleading with her to get as far away from this man as she could. His whole demeanor threw her off.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Astrid asked.

Trave frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“You’re acting so bloody calm. What in Oblivion are you planning, Trave?”

“I’m not planning anything. I am… very different than when we last met, Astrid.”

“No shit,” Astrid muttered. She eyed him warily.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“The old Trave—”

“The old Trave is gone,” he said. “He burned away years ago. He burned away when you burned me.”

Astrid narrowed her eyes. That memory was still fresh in her mind, after decades. She feared it would never leave her.

“Cabral thinks he is torturing us by giving us this mission together. He thinks we are terrified of one another. But that doesn’t have to be the case. Not for you, anyway.”

Astrid stared deep into Trave’s clear gray eye. “Let’s just get the job done,” she said.

Together they walked along the shadowy streets, careful to hide their faces—and the glow of their eyes—beneath their hooded cloaks.

“The telenic and the acumen are the actuals,” Trave said.

Each class of psimancer was dangerous in their own way. Telenics, like Winter, used psimancy to move inanimate objects around them. Acumens, like Kali, used the power to manipulate the minds of others.

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