Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

ZELDA

The far wall exploded, sending glass shards flying into the crowd. A smoking canister rolled across the floor. A panic-filled cry surged through the party goers as they tried to flee the gas. The ventilation system kicked on immediately, drawing away the smoke.

Malgraxon was beside her in an instant. "Are you injured?" He ran his hands over her, searching for nonexistent injuries.

"I'm fine." She rubbed her watering eyes. "So much for this not being a smash and grab."

"You did this," Mal growled, turning on Walker, who held up his hands in surrender.

"I don't know what's going on," Walker said.

Another cry of panic rippled through the crowd. A cargo vehicle, the kind used for deliveries, hovered just outside the broken window. Armed men leaped down, glass crunching under their boots.

One strode to the front and fired his rifle into the ceiling. More cries and some sobbing. "Listen up!" he shouted over the uproar. "Don't try to be a hero and everyone gets to go home tonight."

Several things happened at once.

Zelda ran a finger over her bracelet, activating the communication function. Contacting emergency services was as easy as mashing her fingers against the screen. The network would determine her location and send a response.

The silver-haired Amiron Yan ran toward Mal through broken glass, with bare feet.

Zelda clenched her teeth, imagining the pain.

"Stay put!" one of the robbers shouted, then fired a shot into the floor.

Amiron flinched but stopped in his tracks. "Okay, okay," he said, holding up his hands.

"On the ground."

"I'm not going anywhere," Amiron said, not grasping the fact that he was not in a position to negotiate.

"On the ground!" Another shot, this one not a warning. More screams.

Amiron dropped to the floor, clutching his leg. "You shot me!"

The gunman ignored Amiron's cries of pain. "Anyone else think they deserve special treatment?"

As all this happened, another gunman pointed a rifle at Walker. "You. Grab the painting over the mantle."

Walker didn't protest, hopping over to the fireplace.

A silence had fallen over the room. Amid whimpers and soft sobbing, no one spoke. No sirens. No security system alarm, presumably having been disabled. Nothing disturbed the quiet, not even wind as the haze barrier kept the dusty Martian atmosphere out.

"Emergency services are unable to reach your location," a flat, computerized voice informed Zelda. She slapped her hand over the bracelet to muffle the sound.

The nearest gunman turned his rifle toward her. Malgraxon growled. Actually growled. "Do not," Mal warned.

"You called the cops?" the gunman asked, ignoring Mal.

"No. I didn't," she said, frantically trying to put the device on silent. "That's my virtual assistant. I need to take my meds."

Amiron rolled over to look at Malgraxon. "You have to do something," he pleaded in a quiet voice.

"Do I?" Mal asked, not taking his eyes off the man pointing a rifle at Zelda.

Another robber kept his gun pointed at the crowd while another two smashed glass cases and removed the treasures within. It was oddly leisurely. The fifth person had a pistol on Walker as he removed the poppy painting. No one bothered with the glass blob near Zelda.

"You can have anything you want. Just make this stop," Amiron whispered.

Walker clutched the painting, a pistol pressed against the back of his head. They moved through the room, toward the smashed window and waiting vehicle.

"You will owe me a favor to be collected at my discretion," Mal said, his voice taking on the resonant tone.

The robbers rushed to the vehicle, still threatening the crowd with their weapons. They'd be gone in mere seconds, and the emergency responders were nowhere to be found.

"Yes, yes. Anything," Amiron said.

Mal gave a weary sigh and snapped his fingers.

Walker tripped over his own feet, falling to the ground. The painting hit the ground, the frame giving an alarming creak of splintering wood.

How? Was Mal telekinetic, not telepathic?

"It's a simple gravity distortion field, and I'm observant," Malgraxon said, anticipating her thoughts. He chuckled, cradling the side of her face with an indulgent expression. "It's all over your face, my sweet comet. No telepathy required. Do not touch that one," he snarled, turning his attention back to Walker.

A robber grabbed the painting and jumped through the window, into the vehicle. As quick as they came, they were gone.

The crowd remained still.

"You were supposed to stop them," Amiron said, pointing an accusing finger at Mal. His shout echoed in the room. Red spread on his white trousers.

"You demanded that I make it stop. It is over."

"They took my painting. Do you know how much money it took to get it to Mars?"

Zelda grabbed a towel from a discarded tray and pressed it to the wound on Amiron's leg. "Someone call emergency services," she ordered.

"I'm trying. The gate is blocked," a voice said. "There's a vehicle fire."

There was only one gate nearby that allowed traffic through the dome. Others were scattered across the city, but it would take time to reach them. No wonder the robbers weren't in a hurry.

"You," Mal growled, stalking toward Walker. "You did this."

"Me? I had a gun to my head," Walker said, all charm and smiles. He ran a hand over the back of his head, mussing his hair. Mal's back was toward Zelda, so she couldn't see his face. Whatever Walker saw—whatever visage Mal was showing him—it made the color drain from his face.

Mal's hand snapped out, grabbing Walker by the throat.

Fury etched into his very being, Mal dragged Walker through the suite to the open balcony. The crowd parted around them. Gasping for breath, Walker clawed at Mal's hand, but to no avail.

Zelda hurried after, worried what Mal would do.

Mal lifted Walker, whose face was now red, and held him over the edge of the balcony. His legs kicked uselessly. Mal opened his hand and stepped back.

"Wait! Don't!" Zelda said, extending a hand like she could catch Walker.

Walker hung suspended. His eyes went wide in disbelief.

Right, a gravitational distortion.

"I should let this pathetic creature fall," Mal said with a snarl. His eyes were black as ink—black as the void. Moving his hand in a circular motion, Walker turned upside down.

"Please don't," Walker croaked. He dangled in midair, one leg rigid like he was suspended by an invisible rope. The other kicked wildly.

"You can't just drop him off the side of a building," she said.

"Why ever not?" Mal sounded genuinely perplexed. "You wanted vengeance. This is vengeance."

Mal's hand twitched and Walker dropped a foot, yelping in surprise.

"Yeah, I wanted him to suffer, not to be murdered. Big difference," she said. Dropping Walker to his death was too much. Why couldn't Mal see that?

"Is this loyalty? You owe this male nothing," Mal said. Then he grimaced, like he had a bitter taste in his mouth. "You have lingering feelings for this male."

"Absolutely not," she said instantly. She didn't know how long Mal could keep Walker suspended like that. It must have been tiring. This seemed like the sort of thing that warranted a quick resolution.

"You lie."

Walker dropped a foot and yelped in surprise. "Don't drop me. Don't drop me. Please. I'll do anything you want," he begged. Honestly, she was embarrassed for him. Abject terror was not a good look for him.

"A few hours ago, I might have agreed with you," Zelda said, "but I'm over him."

Mal huffed. "A likely story."

"Look, just because I don't want you to murder my ex doesn't mean I still have feelings for the guy. He's a snake."

"A handsome snake," Mal said, his lips curled in disgust.

"A handsome snake, but what do I want with snakes? Really, all he's got to offer is good looks. He's just empty and greedy. I'm over it." Zelda didn't know how to better express herself. Then, for good measure, she added, "Besides, he's boring."

Mal's eyes swirled black and blue. "He is rather tedious. All this screaming and begging."

"Whatever you want, I'll do it," Walker promised.

"Confess your involvement in the robbery tonight."

"I didn't?—"

Mal sighed. "Boring."

Walker dropped half a foot, giving a high-pitched screech. "Okay! I didn't know they were going to do it tonight. I swear."

"Boring and a liar." Mal rotated his wrist, and Walker turned slowly.

His face green, Walker silently pleaded with Zelda to do something. Anything.

"You know what you have to do," she said. She really didn't want to watch Mal torture Walker, but the lout also kind of deserved it. She held up her bracelet with the embedded comm unit to record Walker's confession. "Hurry up. I don't want the authorities to catch Mal playing with his food."

Walker made a strangled noise. "Fine! Fine. Yan's security is too good. The party was the only chance to grab the painting."

"Tell me about the museum," Mal ordered.

"What museum?"

Oh, the nerve of this guy. Dangling upside down, held aloft by only the power of one irritated demon, and he was playing ignorant.

"You're right, this is boring," Zelda said to Mal. "Drop him."

"No! No, wait! It was me at the museum," Walker blurted out. His eyes were glassy with tears. Snot trickled down from his nose. It should have delighted her that he had been reduced to a snotty, blubbering mess, and part of her wanted to be horrified or dispassionate, but it did delight her. She was a petty, vindictive woman.

"And?" Mal prompted.

"I used Zelda's credentials. I'm sorry. It was all me. She had nothing to do with it."

"Hmm. Was that satisfactory?" Mal asked her.

"That will do." She ended the recording and sent the file to various outlets.

"Excellent." Mal waved his hand, and Walker fell.