But once he arrived, the number of uniformed soldiers coming and going at HQ meant the military had taken control of the local security and would likely arrest Leif on sight. No surprise, as martial law had been declared, but it had still been worth checking. Leif watched the flow in and out for a couple hours, just in case he spotted Nic’s broad shoulders or Eve’s short hair. No luck.
Leif had one last place to go before he ran out of options. Then what?
He pushed down the panic. He’d worry about that later.
The Pig Pen bustled with customers despite the late hour. Leif noted four Sitian soldiers, but he’d altered his appearance as much as he could under the circumstances. It was hard to disguise his square face or his stocky build. No sign of Nic or Eve, and their two stools remained empty. Nic’s twin brother Ian owned the Pen and nobody would dare to sit in Nic’s or his partner’s space. Leif settled on one of the empty stools and waited.
“Those stools are not for you,” the man next to him said. “You better find another place to sit.”
“I like this stool,” Leif said.
“You’re either brave or stupid.”
“I like to think I’m a little of both. It keeps people guessing,” Leif replied. Then he waved at Ian, who was tending the bar. “An order of beef stew and an ale.”
His neighbor laughed and muttered, “This ought to be good.”
Ian didn’t acknowledge Leif’s existence. Didn’t make a move, as far as Leif could tell, but within a minute, four thugs surrounded Leif.
“You’re leaving,” Thug One said.
They grabbed Leif under the arms and carried him to the door. Then they tossed him to the sidewalk. Leif rolled on impact and regained his feet.
“Tell the proprietor that I will no longer frequent his business. He doesn’t get a second chance.”
“Don’t come back, Meat,” Thug Two said.
They remained in front of the entrance. Leif brushed his pants off, glared at the impenetrable wall of muscle, and walked off in a huff. He took a circuitous route to the Second Chance Inn and found a hidden place to keep an eye on the inn’s entrance. He settled in for a long wait.
If Ian hadn’t been influenced by the Cartel, he would relay the message to Nic and Eve that Leif was at the inn. Provided Nic and Eve were also free. If Ian had been converted by the Cartel’s special indoctrination methods, then Leif expected a number of soldiers to storm the inn, looking for him.
When the sun rose in the morning without either scenario developing, Leif realized he’d have to rescue Mara and his father on his own. An almost impossible task.
Leif wandered the city, reviewing his options. He could return to the Citadel and recruit helpers. Or he could turn himself in and offer his cooperation and loyalty in exchange for Mara and Esau’s freedom. The Cartel was run by business people who honored written contracts.
Or he could go in undercover as one of the soldiers. With a null shield around him, he’d be able to avoid detection for a while. Then Leif remembered Fisk already had people undercover in the garrison. If he could just contact one of them—
“Spare a copper, sir?” a street rat asked him, holding out a grubby hand.
“Uh...sure...” Leif fished a silver coin from his pocket and gave it to...her? It was hard to tell under the grime.
“Thank you, sir. I have something for you in return,” she said.
“Oh?” He opened his magical senses, but only the clean scent of honesty reached him.
“A bit of advice. You need to leave Fulgor. Right away.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can’t stay here. You’ve been spotted all over town. It’s amazing you haven’t been arrested already.” Her tone was a combination only a young teen girl could pull off—equal parts annoyed, dismissive and incredulous.
In any other circumstance, Leif would have been amused. “Maybe you can help me? I’m—”
“You’re too hot, Mr. Leif. You really need to leave.”
Ah. She was a member of Fisk’s guild. “Not without my wife and father. They were captured and brought to the garrison.”
Understanding smoothed her dirty face. “Oh, so you’re trying to be arrested. No need. They’re not here.”
YELENA
My captors opened the door into the basement of the warehouse. The bright warmth spilling from the entrance threw me off balance. I blinked and, for a moment, thought I’d been transported to the Commander’s throne room or a security office. Lanterns blazed from desks. Men and women bustled about or grouped together, discussing what must be important things, if I read their expressions correctly. A few glanced at us but didn’t think my arrival all that noteworthy.
Weaving through the people and furniture, our group—now down to four, plus me—headed toward an open doorway, where more light and voices poured out.
Entering the room, my captors stopped. Three men hunched over a blueprint on a table, arguing over the best way to bypass the building’s security.
The guy holding my right elbow cleared his throat to catch their attention. “You were right, General, she’s terrified of fire.”
The man with his back to us turned around, and my emotions seesawed between terror and relief. Cahil. My survival would depend largely on his state of mind, but at least there was some hope when dealing with him.
“Good. Any trouble?” General Cahil asked.
“Nothing we couldn’t handle.”
“Valek?” He spat the name.
“Occupied with his own ambush.”
Worry for him eclipsed my own fears. Did Cahil set up an ambush for him, as well, or had someone else? Was it Onora?
I kept the questions—and my rising concern—to myself. I wouldn’t give Cahil the satisfaction.
“Weapons?” Cahil held out his hand, and the lamplighter gave him my switchblade. He shook his head. “Hanni, search her. Be careful. She’ll have a number of darts—some filled with Curare—a blowpipe and a couple sets of lock picks. Check her hair, too.”
Damn. Cahil knew me too well. Hanni, who had been standing behind me, did a thorough search and found almost all my hidden surprises. She laid them on the table, and the other men stared at the amount in amazement. As Valek said, it never hurt to be prepared. Too bad I hadn’t listened to all his advice.
Cahil’s gaze, though, never left mine. His blond hair was military short and he’d shaved off his beard, but not his mustache. Amusement lit his washed-out
