Eko (NINE Series, #1) by Loren Walker

Author:Loren Walker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: adventure, action, fantasy, science fiction, strong female
Publisher: Loren Walker

VIII.

Phaira woke to the smell of smoke. As her eyes adjusted to the light, she sank down into the warm bed. Her ankles cracked as she stretched. The dawn air was cool, running down her throat, coupled with the faint scent of smoke. Theron had lit another fire.

No, wait: it was afternoon, she could tell by the position of the sun. And the smoke burned her nostrils. Chemical.

Phaira slid out of bed, pulling a tunic over her head. Unlocking the door to her suite, she peered around the frame. No sounds, no movement, just the shine of spotless floors.

Her legs and feet bare, Phaira padded down into the luxurious room with the wall of windows. The glass was cold under her hand as she searched the horizon.

The Volante was burning.

Past the fish houses and fields, Phaira could see the speck of Nox’s old transport, consumed with violent orange flames, black smoke rolling into the blue sky.

Something is fueling that fire. It’s moving too fast. But there’s no accelerant on board that would ignite like that by accident.

Phaira stepped away from the windows. First thing was to get out of there and find somewhere to hide. The Macatias must have issued a new contract on her, one that Anandi hadn’t seen. If the hunters had already searched the vessel and chosen to torch it, they were already too close. Theron would have to understand; in fact, it didn’t matter if he understood or not. She had to leave. Maybe use one of the artifacts in this room to get some rana…

A knock reverberated through the house. The cool marble floor quivered under her feet.

Phaira swore under her breath. She slid her back along the wall until she reached a weaponry wall display. A longblade was featured among others: intricate carvings along its hilt, ancient and expensive, no doubt. She ripped it off the wall and checked the blade. Viciously sharp.

A knock came again: harder this time, followed by the sound of a drill. They were breaking in.

Phaira gave the longblade a few test swings: light and pliable, perfectly balanced. If she could incapacitate the hunters long enough, she could make an escape without having to kill anyone.

“Phaira.” The sound of her name travelled through the room, hushed but insistent. It was Theron, holding open a closet door on the far side of the room. He pressed an index finger to his lips and gestured for her to come.

Bearing the longblade with two hands, Phaira shook her head at him. What was he thinking? To hide in a closet, it was suicide. “I can manage,” she whispered. “The Macatias never send - ”

“Not them,” he said through his teeth.

He mouthed the next word slowly: Hitodama.

The sound of glass breaking echoed up the stairwell.

Please, he mouthed, his eyes wide and flashing.

There wasn’t time to argue. Phaira sprinted to Theron, ducking under his arm. He shut the door, sealing away the light.

Blackness, and the sound of their breath. Theron stood behind her, his fingertips on her elbow, barely touching, but still sending a message: Be still.

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