Chapter 17 #7
"I don't know," said Dreyko, uncertain. "But I guess everything was fine one minute and then he kind of lost it, and then asked me to come and get you. Do you mind –"
"Yeah, of course," I said, panic ballooning under my ribs.
"Just – let me grab a water." I scooped up a chilled bottle from below the bar, tapping my wristband thoughtlessly against the payment terminal, and following Dreyko as he lead me across the room and toward one of the closed doors that I knew opened up into a narrow hallway.
Fuck, I'd been pushing Elethenn, and maybe he wasn't ready.
Maybe – well, I'd seen how he could get around other people.
Maybe he had some sort of past that I didn't understand. I'd known a lot of dancers like that.
Dreyko opened up the door, and I stepped into the familiar hallway; the door shut behind us, the sonic dampeners muffling the distant sounds of music and conversation in the gym beyond.
"Is he hurt, or –" I moved to look at Dreyko, but the sound of a scuff at the end of the hallway brought me up short.
"Listen," said Dreyko behind me as I whipped my head around to look at the figure who'd stepped around the corner from Tam's office, a tall, muscular abaya with a dark crest rippling behind them.
And then I felt the cold bite of metal against the back of my neck – a gun, not a blade – and I stopped breathing.
Dreyko's voice dropped to a mutter, his mouth close to my ear.
"No, listen, kid, I don't want to hurt you.
No one does. Just don't try anything. Behave yourself and you'll be alright.
Tam always liked you. He said you're a good person but I've got a family.
And these guys just want to talk, so don't be an idiot and you'll be fine. "
The cold metal dug harder into the back of my neck, a push, and Dreyko nudged me forward. My eyes were wide, fixed on the tall abaya at the end of the hall, the light glinting off the edge of their gold nose ring.
I knew them. I knew them from the cultural centre.
"Stop," said the abaya. "Take his swords."
"Where's Elethenn?" I ground out, staring wide-eyed at the abaya. "And where's Tam?"
"Do you understand what I'm saying?" hissed Dreyko, one hand moving to work at the straps of my sheath. "You can handle a fight, but not against these people. Don't try to be a hero. Play nice and you'll get out of here."
I weighed my options. My stare flicked from the abaya to my wristband as Dreyko eased the swords from my back.
In a flash, the abaya closed the distance between us – so fast, impossibly fast – and cracked my wrist hard against the wall.
A sharp cry ripped from my throat as they snapped the band off, my hand spasming before I jerked it back in toward my body, clutching it to my chest as it throbbed.
I curved forward, sucking in a sharp, pained breath.
"Fuck," I hissed, tears stinging my eyes. That had cracked something, I was sure.
"Stand up," barked the abaya, prodding me with one hand. "And follow." They turned, then, and marched to the end of the hallway.
It took Dreyko no time to yank my swords free after that, although my jacket went with them, leaving me shivering in the cold hallway while the abaya waited impatiently.
"You absolute piece of fucking shit, Dreyko," I hissed as I used my good hand to scrub at the skin beneath my eyes.
I straightened, forced myself to stop shaking, and added, "And I want my fucking swords back. They have sentimental value."
The abaya turned as I shuffled after them, shooting me a flat look.
"We are not thieves," they said. Then, with a jerk of their chin at Dreyko, "Update us as needed.
You are dismissed." The abaya waited until I rounded the corner and then stepped in behind me as we approached the polymer door to Tam's office.
They reached over my shoulder to knock. Someone inside called out in abayan, "Come in," and the door swung inwards.
The room was dimly lit and cluttered, and the abaya crowded me with their body so that I ended up stepping in before I could really take in the scene or process what was happening.
By the time I did, it was too late to do shit about it or to make a better choice.
The abaya's hand clamped down hard on my shoulder as they shoved me forward toward a chair that I stumbled into, half-collapsing as my stare raked over the scene before me.
There was a body on the ground and, judging by the violent spray of blood spattering the wall and centering on the head, it was a dead body.
Seated behind Tam's cluttered desk was a familiar figure, with a third abaya positioned just to the side – the gleaming muzzle of a blast rifle aimed directly at my face.
"Sashen of Creche Thiel," murmured the carefully composed leader of the Unbound, their preternaturally still body shifting just slightly as they leaned forward to study me. "I did promise that we would speak again. Gratitude for coming when we called: we have much to discuss tonight."