Chapter 15

CHAPTER 15

CARLA

The cart roared up the road, kicking up dirt and gravel. Carla clung onto the overhead canopy with one hand and the other clutched at the dashboard. This thing was a deathtrap, barely anything more substantial than a metal shell over a lawnmower engine, with no seat belts, no door to stop her from falling out, and it was going way too fast.

When the dirt road evened out, she glanced over her shoulder to check that the other cart followed. It wasn’t close, but it was there. Good. She disliked being separated from Ari and worried about the bite. This was an incredibly dangerous situation, and he was there because of her, and she liked him. Genuinely liked him. People drifted in and out of her life all the time, but she wasn’t ready to let him go.

Not yet.

Not ever.

The cart sped around a corner. The incline increased, causing the engine to struggle. At no point did the speed slow. Tropical greenery rushed by in a blur. Occasionally, Carla thought she saw movement in the trees, vague people-shaped shadows, but the cart went by too fast for her to get a good look. Still, she searched the trees for Poppy’s familiar red form, all the while bouncing in her seat and holding onto the cart for dear life.

The cart rounded another corner, and the road widened, revealing their destination. It was a proper villain’s lair, perched cliffside with a futurist design that was all curves and glass. There was even a waterfall. Was it futuristic if she was on an alien planet? Maybe that was a traditional design. Maybe it was a boring split-level ranch with vinyl siding? Well, the lair was futuristic by her standards.

Headed directly for the waterfall, the cart did not slow.

“Oh, this one of those cool tunnel entrances, right? The water’s going to part,” she said.

Kronkee said nothing, gripping the wheel tightly.

As they approached, it became clear that the waterfall went straight down the cliff. The road narrowed, clinging to the side of the cliff. Carla looked down, which was the worst idea ever, and had instant regrets. Far below, water churned in a violent tempest. If a wheel slipped or she lost her grip on this flimsy cart, she’d plummet to her death. And this guy? He looked like he’d be happy to push her over.

The water roared, drowning out all thought, leaving only the panicky thud of her heart. She gripped the canopy’s support, her palms slippery with sweat. They were getting closer to what appeared to be the end of the narrow road. It terminated at the waterfall.

No bridge. No entrance built into the cliff, hidden by rocks. Nothing. Just a sheer drop to the water below.

“There’s an entrance, right?” she asked again, shouting to be heard over the water and no longer trying to play it cool. She was all panic.

Kronkee said nothing, grimly facing forward.

He was going to kill her. She knew it in her bones. She somehow offended him in the five minutes since they met, and now he was going to murder her via waterfall.

This was wrong. She was supposed to be with Ari. They weren’t meant to be separated yet. She’d have to do this on her own, and as much as she postured and acted tough, she had never worked solo. She always had a partner.

There was only the deafening noise of the water, drowning out the rest of the world.

The cart slipped behind the waterfall.

There was darkness and silence, just the drip of water.

The cart jerked to a stop, throwing her forward. She held out a hand to stop herself from smashing into the dashboard. The noise of gears whirring to life echoed off stone. Lights flickered to life, casting a sulfurous glow. They were parked in a metal shaft that had all the charm of an industrial elevator.

The floor rose with a jerk, tossing Carla against the back of the seat. “A little warning,” she grumbled.

Kronkee said nothing, keeping his eyes forward, but she knew that fucker was having a good time. His twitching tail gave him away.

The grinding of gears increased, reaching an alarmingly loud level that sparked fears about cables snapping and bolts breaking. Finally, the elevator stopped, and a set of doors rolled open.

The cart rolled forward into what could generously be described as a parking garage carved out of stone. Half was natural stone, rough and unhewn, and the other was poured concrete, pillars, painted yellow lines, and smelled of exhaust fumes.

They stopped at a set of glass doors set into the rough stone. Inside was more stone, now with moss, and amber lights embedded along the floor. Despite the tropical heat outside, the inside was cool. Faint dampness clung to the air. Another elevator led them to a twisting journey through identical corridors no doubt meant to confuse visitors.

“Are we going in circles? I feel like I’ve seen that clump of moss before,” Carla said, reaching up to touch a long strand of feathery moss that hung from the ceiling.

“We must take this path because you lost your charveli blossom,” Kronkee said. Before she could snark back about victim -blaming, he opened a door. “This is your room. You will find it suitable.”

The space was simple in that it was a single room with a large bed. A flat white box sat in the middle. The walls were more carved stone and the floor was poured concrete. There was not a single piece of furniture beyond the bed. The interior designer definitely went hard for the supervillain aesthetic.

The far wall curved away, opening into a massive window that offered a stunning view of the island. The ocean sparkled in the distance. A planter filled with leafy green foliage ran underneath the window, framing the view.

Kronkee pressed a rock in the wall, and a hidden door opened, revealing a bathroom. He said, “The Master is indisposed but requests that you make yourself presentable for dinner. You will find all the necessary supplies inside.”

“My luggage?”

“Is being searched. An outfit is provided.” He waved a hand to the box sitting on the bed before leaving.

Once the door closed, Carla waited until she heard the lock sliding into place. Alone and not likely to be disturbed, she searched the room for listening devices and cameras or anything electronic. There weren’t too many places in the sparse room to hide a bug.

Tech was tricky on Reazus Prime. Those with money had the latest and greatest, imported from the more stable parts of the galaxy. Everyone else made do by cobbling bits and pieces together and hoping for the best. Most everything from cars to phones and even buildings were Frankensteined monstrosities. A guy like Tavat had resources, but the cart was little more than a glorified golf cart. The canopy had rust spots in the joints, suggesting it might not get the upkeep it needed. Welding lines crisscrossed the body of the cart, telling Carla that panels had been salvaged from elsewhere. She’d bet good money that the engine had been pieced together the same way.

She was getting distracted. The room was likely bugged. Tavat might have splurged for a super-micro unit, but maybe not. Luck might be on Carla’s side. Lady Luck owed her one, after all.

As it happened, luck was on her side. She found a cluster of wires and circuits hidden among the leafy potted plants by the window. She fetched a glass of water from the bathroom, announced that the plants looked thirsty, and dropped the bug in the water.

Problem solved.

She cleaned up the bathroom, giving special attention to the scratches the fluffy little thief left on her shoulders and arms. The last thing she needed was some weird infection.

Opening the box revealed a sleeveless gray silk gown. It was exquisite, with a plunging neckline, daringly high thigh slit, and thin. Very, very thin.

Carla held the fabric up to the window. It glowed in the sunlight, and she had little doubt that everything would show with the right lighting.

Gross. Being objectified was not part of the plan, but adaptability was survivability, even if it was demeaning.

At least the gown was close to the right size. Buttons on the inside of the bodice allowed her to adjust the fit, and while the hem was long, it didn’t drag on the floor. She found a comb and did her best with her hair. The nice thing about being on an alien planet was no one knew human beauty standards. Frizzy from the humidity? Pfft. Frizzy was in nowadays. All the cool kids had frizzy hair.

ARI

His wings were tied. Still half-asleep and hazy from a sedative, Ari experienced the overwhelming sensation of not being able to breathe. The binds holding his wings constricted around his chest, though his arms remained free. He thrashed and clawed at his chest.

“I advise not doing that,” a calm voice said. “The table is rather narrow, and you’ll fall off.”

“What—”

“My medic is cleaning your bite. It’s rather nasty. Now remain still.”

Ari turned his head in the direction of the speaker. The Nakkoni female from earlier stood over him, now wearing surgical garb. A mask covered her face. The voice did not belong to her. His mind worked frustratingly slowly. This was the medic. He was in a lab or a medical suite. He had been drugged.

Then nothing. Silence. He drifted in and out of consciousness.

He woke with sudden clarity, disoriented. He was in a new location, a small room without windows. His wings were unbound but his hands were tied, stretched above his head with a chain. He stood at the edge of a dark pit, his heels right at the edge. Cautiously, he shuffled forward as far as the chain would allow, but he remained precariously balanced.

Ari tugged at the chair, leaning back to add additional strain. It held. His hands shifted to stone, gaining a modicum more girth and density. The chain continued to hold.

A frustrated growl escaped his lips. This was not the plan. He was not meant to be separated from Carla so soon.

“It was rather foolish of you to assume I’d allow you to leave.” Tavat stepped through the door, looking remarkably bored.

“It was foolish of me to assume your invitation was given in good faith. I should have known better.”

Tavat crossed the room, avoiding the pit. “Yes, you should have, Lord Solivair. And you should also know better than to try to bait me into a monologue. I will not be distracted.”

Ari tugged at the chain, a futile gesture but necessary. He would not be intimidated. “Is this how you treat a guest?”

Tavat leaned in, his breath hot on Ari’s face. “No. This is how I treat those who steal from me.”

He released the chain. Before Ari could lunge forward, Tavat pushed.

Ari fell backward into darkness.

CARLA

A minion escorted Carla to dinner. She tried to memorize the route, but the minion must have received orders to make it as confusing as possible. It didn’t match up to the satellite images she’d studied with Ari. She’d need to create a distraction to slip away to figure out the lair’s layout.

The minion took her to an open lounge area with a massive circular window, the centerpiece. The aesthetic was more of the natural stone and poured concrete. The furnishing complimented the circular design with gentle curves. Round rugs. Round sofa. White globes hung from the stone ceiling like high-tech stalactites.

A Nakkoni man stood in front of the window with his back to the room. Carla recognized Tavat. A round dining table sat nearby with a floral centerpiece and covered in golden treasure. Her treasure.

“It seems I invited a thief to my home,” Tavat said.