Silent Warrior by Lindsey Piper

Author:Lindsey Piper
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Dragon Kings#0.5
Publisher: Pocket Star Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

8

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” Hark said, trying to keep the edge of panic out of his voice. “And don’t go all secret squirrel on me now. Whisper or whatever, but stay close.”

“I assume there’s quite a bit you’ve never told me.”

“I . . . I have issues with complete darkness.”

“Issues.”

The delivery of that single word was devoid of emotion.

He’d expected something. A snappy retort. Because why wouldn’t she? When she bothered to speak, Silence was as snarky as the next chick with a brain. But at that moment, he’d rather have complete stoicism than some witty mockery.

“Yes, issues.”

“Fine. Then we’ll always fuck with the lights on.” She groped for his hand until their fingers intertwined. “We still need that telepath.”

No judgment?

Wait, always fuck?

That implied enough of a good time following this debacle to get his wits together.

She wound through the passageways. The tunnels were as tight as the tension in Hark’s chest. Only that tension wasn’t his hatred of the dark. He was oddly eager. Anticipation spiked, made him light-headed, as if he’d spun in circles too many times. He’d never had a partner before. He worked alone, procuring items, risking his ass. Aside from an occasional hookup—as he’d assumed Silence would be—he bedded down by himself each night, always expecting to wake up facing the barrel of a napalm pistol.

The deeper they ventured into the dark, the more potent the human stench. On occasion Silence would stumble over something that grunted. A person. Hark imagined them spread across the floor like puppies laid out before their mother, hunting for a ripe teat. He and Silence were navigating a minefield labyrinth in black so thick that the old bastard Set, Egyptian god of darkness and chaos, would’ve lit a candle.

“You do know where we’re going?”

“When you run all your life, you remember ways to circle back. Stairs.”

They climbed. Wove. Dodged. And yes, it seemed as if they’d circled around. The warren was a maze. Wherever she was taking them, they would not be pursued easily. Too many nooks and cubbies and wrong turns.

The lights flickered back to life. A small part of Hark regretted being so eager to see. The filth was overwhelming. She still clutched his hand, and they picked up speed.

He identified the source of the blackout. Water streamed down the shoddy, makeshift walls. Leaking sinks? Toilets? The water dribbled dangerously close to wires strung along across every surface and in mazes of crisscrossed clotheslines at head height. The wrong drip on the wrong live wire . . .

Momentary blackouts seemed the least dangerous outcome.

They arrived at what appeared to be a basement interspersed with heavy I beams. Like the rest of the building, even those support structures seemed tired.

A moan echoed from across the wide space—wide by comparison. The moan was not of human origin, but came instead from a Dragon King. Hark knew the difference; it radiated across different nerve endings.

Silence strode forward. “Jawahar, time for your feeding.”

“Bitch,” the Indranan spat.

“Not wise to insult one’s captor.

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