Chapter 16
Zaraq
Zaraq approached the tall obsidian doors that stood like a pair of ominous guards outside Vexis’s house. For a brief second, it occurred to him that the dining room’s glass door was still shattered and open to the garden. If he wanted to, he might be able to sneak around the side and take Vexis by surprise. He had Arccoo’s blaster after all.
The weight of it in his back waistband was comforting, and for a second, he played through the idea. He imagined his feet deftly avoiding the shards of broken glass, entering the house undetected. Once he was inside the dining room, he’d climb silently over the toppled furniture and then into the living room where Vexis was probably holding Sofia.
With perfect aim, he’d take out Vexis and whoever else was in the room so fast they wouldn’t have time to react. He imagined the look of gratitude and relief on Sofia’s face as she turned to see him emerge from the shadows.
“Zaraq!” she’d cry, tears of joy welling in her eyes.
He’d run to her, hold her, and tell her everything was okay. That he’d come for her.
And then the two of them would escape together with the murder weapon still in their possession. They’d truly be free then. Free and in love.
The thought was intoxicating and, for a moment, Zaraq allowed himself to enjoy the fantasy of the life he’d always longed for but never had faith in.
But that was the problem. It was just a fantasy.
“No,” he whispered to himself, shaking his head as if to wash away the thought.
He knew Vexis and plenty of guys like him. A trade could only go one way, and the stakes here were higher than any he’d ever played with before.
Tempting as it was to play the hero, he knew anything other than the agreed-upon plan would put Sofia in danger. Just the thought of it made every muscle in Zaraq’s body tense.
He clenched his fists as he envisioned her imprisoned in that house somewhere, being threatened by Vexis. Or worse. No, the only way to ensure her safety was to play the game.
He glanced down to where he gripped his gray pack, the murder weapon giving it weight. Then, with one determined step, Zaraq approached the security panel he’d hacked his way through just a few hours before. The reader was now lying on the bed, back in the hotel room—not that it would do him much good now anyway. Vexis probably wouldn’t have appreciated a second break-in.
“I’m here.” His voice was somewhere between defiant and resigned, but he hoped Sofia could hear the intercom. He wanted her to know he’d come for her, that in spite of her admonition to stay away, he would never leave her.
The night was warm, and though he no longer wore the skin-tight blue suit, he still felt heat rising around his collar. It only grew hotter as he waited for a response.
Finally, a crackle came through the speaker, but before he could hear what was said, two pairs of hands grabbed him roughly from behind.
“Good of you to stop by,” came a familiar snarling voice, and Zaraq didn’t have to turn to know it was Joran speaking over his left shoulder.
Before he could react, the pack was snatched suddenly out of his right hand and the weedy guard from earlier that night stepped around him.
“And you brought gifts!”
The two men chuckled, their mirthless laughter dissolving into menace as the double doors slid open, and Zaraq was shoved inside. He felt his breath catch in his throat as he stumbled into the checkerboard foyer floor, though, because Joran had shoved him right where his blaster was concealed.
“Hey, what the fuck is this?” The guard’s meaty hands were already pulling up his shirt, and a second later Zaraq felt the scrape of the delta blaster against his skin as Joran pulled it out.
Zaraq spun around, but it was too late. Both guards were staring at him with menacing sneers. Joran’s yellow eyes practically bulged, looking sickly against his mauve skin as he held the weapon. Weedy reminded him of the animals called rodents he used to see in his dad’s studies of Earth.
“So, you upgraded,” Joran snarled, glancing down at the blaster. “I guess your little zapfa ray didn’t cause enough damage, so you came back to finish the job, huh?”
Zaraq felt his heart constrict as he realized the plan was already falling apart. In a vain attempt to get it back on track, he supplicated the guards.
“I wasn’t intending to use that,” he assured them, holding up his hands to show his innocence. “It was just for protection, just in case. But I’m here. I brought the sigma blaster, I’m making good on the deal like Vexis asked. I just want to take Sofia home.”
Joran shot him a menacing grin and sniggered as if he knew a joke that Zaraq wasn’t in on. Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps reverberated through the house, and for a second, Zaraq felt a surge of hope that at least he had done what he came to do—save Sofia.
When he turned around, though, he realized he was only hearing one pair of footsteps. And he could guess who they belonged to.
A rough hand from behind pushed him forward again—Weedy this time—and as Zaraq stumbled through the foyer, the truth dawned on him. The deal was never intended to go through. This was a trap.
From the dim shadows of the hallway, Vexis emerged, his face plastered in a look of triumph that made Zaraq’s blood boil.
“For a boy who grew up in the slums, you’re pretty fucking naive,” Vexis sneered.
Behind him, Zaraq heard Joran and Weedy chuckling.
Sycophants , he thought. But it did nothing to make him feel better.
Vexis stared at him for another moment, as if soaking in his victory, before shifting his gaze to the guards. Without a word, he lifted his hand, making a motion for them to hand over what they’d taken from Zaraq. Like two children eager to please their teacher, the guards hurried forward and presented the pack and the blaster, shoulder-checking Zaraq as they passed.
Zaraq watched helplessly as Vexis took Arccoo’s blaster and smirked.
“Nice toy,” he said, turning the gun over in his hands. “I’ll be taking this in exchange for the zapfa gun you stole. I think that’s a fair deal. Don’t you?”
Again, Vexis’s cronies boosted their boss’s ego with a snigger. Zaraq remembered what that was like, pretending every word Slikrim said was holy scripture just so he wouldn’t get killed. It was a debased life, and despite the position he found himself in now, he was glad he answered only to himself now.
Vexis lay the weapon on the sideboard that ran the length of the hallway and turned his attention to the pack.
“But this is what you really owe me.” He snatched the bag from Weedy’s hand, tearing open the zipper and peering inside. His black eyes widened at what he saw.
Pulling out the sealed bag that still contained the murder weapon, Vexis smiled cruelly.
“You know, I haven’t used this since I got rid of Ryka,” Vexis revealed. The look in his eyes when he said it made Zaraq clench his jaw. It almost seemed as if Vexis was remembering the murder with fondness.
Zaraq, on the other hand, remembered it very, very differently. He remembered the silence in Ryka’s house the day he’d gone to visit. He remembered the stack of business papers he’d been holding proudly—everything they needed to start their own venture and free themselves from Slik’s reign of terror. He remembered calling out his friend’s name, wandering through each room until finally, he saw a denim-clad leg sticking out into the hallway.
He remembered running, the papers falling and scattering like leaves as his footsteps fell heavily, and then the thud as his knees struck the floor beside Ryka’s body.
And most of all, he remembered the wound—a gaping black hole in his friend’s chest, its edges singed and cauterized. He wished he remembered Ryka’s face, but when he tried to picture it in his mind, all he saw was the black hole where his friend’s heart should have been.
Anger, grief, and a grave sense of injustice swelled in Zaraq, but Vexis was smiling. He’d dropped the pack to the floor and was now inspecting the sigma blaster thoughtfully through the clear airlock bag.
“If you’ve never shot a sigma blaster, you don’t know what true power is,” Vexis mused, his black-hole eyes flickering up to meet Zaraq’s again. “I think you should have that chance.”
The words puzzled Zaraq for a second, and even Joran and Weedy appeared perplexed at Vexis’s words.
“If you’re the target, then sure,” Zaraq spat, his skin prickling with the rage that bubbled just below the surface.
Vexis let out a short, ugly laugh. “Not exactly what I had in mind.”
The Rikuan took a step forward, shortening the space between them. “See, nobody fucks with me and gets away with it. And I learned a thing or two from Slik. If you really want to get back at someone, you take away the thing they love the most. And then, you frame them for it.”
As the meaning of these words dawned on Zaraq, he was overcome with the urge to beat Vexis to a pulp, and he started forward. The sigma blaster in the Rikuan’s hands, the presence of the guards, the threat to his own life—these all meant nothing in the face of Sofia’s safety.
Within seconds though, Joran had him by the arms, his hands fastened painfully behind his back.
“You didn’t really think I was going to let either of you go. Did you?” As he spoke, Vexis’s lip curled up into a cruel smile. “Think about it. I have you, I have the girl, and I have the weapon. You handed me everything I needed to get rid of you for good.”
As Vexis spoke, Zaraq tried to formulate a plan. He tried to figure out how to stop Vexis from taking everything from him. The hallway was wide, but with Vexis ahead of him and Joran and Weedy behind him, Zaraq had nowhere to run.
Not only that, but he was without a weapon. Even if he could escape unscathed, he had no idea where Sofia was being held. He’d be dead before he could check the first door.
In his peripheral vision, he could see the darkened arched doorway leading into the living room. Maybe if he could break free from Joran’s grip, he could dash into the living room and snatch a weapon from the black gun cabinet—if it was even still open.
Even if it was open, the odds of getting there before Vexis and the guards opened fire were minimal. And even if he did, he’d still be one against three, and there was nowhere to take cover. Once again, he’d be dead long before he got to Sofia.
His only hope was Arccoo who, he assumed, was still waiting in the car for him. But the same rules applied—Arccoo would be walking into a death trap, and as much as he needed the help, part of him hoped his friend wouldn't come to the rescue.
No matter which way he looked at it, he couldn’t think of any way he’d get out of there alive, let alone rescue Sofia.
“So, here’s what I’m thinking,” Vexis continued, still stroking the bagged sigma blaster. “We wheel out your little whore, you say your last goodbyes, and then you get the honor of doing to her what I did to Ryka.”
“What the hell makes you think I’d do that?” Zaraq spat, straining toward Vexis even though it sent pain shooting through his restrained arms. “I’d sooner die.”
Vexis grinned again, but hatred shone in his eyes as he stared at Zaraq, almost eye-to-eye. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“You’re deranged!” Zaraq shouted, the anger coursing through him.
“No, I’m just very good at what I do. And don’t act like you’re innocent, either. You’re the one who used to go around shaking down Slik’s debtors and smashing kneecaps. At least I know what I am.”
Vexis’s words cut him deeply, but Zaraq refused to let the cretin get in his head.
“People can change,” he retorted, finally breaking free from Joran’s grasp. “I changed.”
“Not in the eyes of the law you didn’t.” Vexis seemed to be enjoying the reaction he was getting out of Zaraq, so he kept pushing. “In the eyes of the law, you’re a cold-blooded killer—the kind of man who kills his best friend over a business deal gone wrong. The kind of man who’ll kill his own girlfriend in a jealous rage after following her to her lover’s house.”
The Rikuan, pleased with himself, shot Zaraq a salacious smile.
“I guess she was unsatisfied,” he continued. “Came looking for some Rikuan cock since her Thryal boyfriend couldn’t give her what she wanted.”
Zaraq tried to control himself, but hearing Vexis talk about Sofia that way flipped a switch inside him.
“You shut your godsdamned mouth!” Zaraq shouted, getting right up in Vexis’s face.
Joran and Weedy gripped his shoulders again, but Vexis held up his hand to stop them.
“That’s the spirit,” Vexis told him, his voice low and threatening. “That’s the energy I want to see from you when the cops show up.”
The words bored right into Zaraq’s heart, and slowly, his defiance began to ebb. As much as he hated to admit it, he was beginning to realize that Vexis would win this. In fact, he had already won.
Zaraq was outnumbered and unarmed, and the story Vexis was spinning was just as believable as the truth. Maybe even more believable since Zaraq was the wanted criminal in this situation. The only proof he had to the contrary was the sigma blaster and that was now in Vexis’s possession again.
Zaraq felt the energy drain from him, his muscles going limp as he realized he had failed Sofia. There, in that marble-floored hallway, Zaraq had lost everything—his dignity, his faith, his chance at redemption. And most of all, he’d lost the only woman he’d ever loved.
He’d failed her, which was something he could never forgive himself for, as long as he lived.