Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Rissa walked away from him proudly. Glided was a better word for the way she moved. Watching her, Sin wondered if it was all an act or if she simply didn't realize how disgusting the things soaking through her slippers really were. Either way, she didn't hesitate to leave him behind.
Pulling away the glove, he finally dropped his eyes to check his hand.
The bullet had passed through the soft skin between his thumb and first finger, tearing it, but missing the bones and ligaments completely.
He cursed softly. That was his good hand too.
It would heal, but gripping a gun wouldn't be comfortable for the next few days.
Then again, how long would it take to have his legs healed?
He groaned, tapping his head against the wall.
He needed a better implant for his damned broken back.
The external spine was too fragile. He was supposed to be the one taking care of that girl, and here he was, waiting for someone to pick his useless body up.
Speaking of that, he tapped at the communication implant by his ear. Once it was active, he composed a message to the one man he knew could help, Trent.
Broke my wings, 149th. 15 minutes. Have angel.
As soon as he sent it, he turned his eyes to the sky.
"God? This is a pretty bad joke, ok? Kinda hard to protect the weak like this.
" He tapped his head on the brick again, the pain reminding him he wasn't done yet.
"Just fucking keep an eye on her right now?
She's like a lamb among the wolves, and I can't fucking help. "
Trent replied by the time he'd finished praying. The message was short, sweet, and to the point: OMW.
He tried to look up the street, but could see nothing around the dumpster except his gun laying there just out of reach.
With a litany of profanity, he grabbed the one beside his hip and holstered it.
He had to stay ready. He couldn't walk, and he felt like he'd been run over by a damned train, but he could still shoot well enough to pick someone off her ass.
His mind drifted back to Rissa. He had no idea how many Ingénue had been killed now. At the last count, it was fourteen, but the number kept growing. Here he was, on the bad side of town with a girl in a kill-me-now blue robe.
His Legate armor was distinctive enough, but those robes? It made her stand out like a target for anyone who'd want to follow them back. He'd have to get her something else, and then they'd take the long way back. The very long one that would allow him to bring in the Fallen for a little backup.
Eventually, the scuff of feet echoed in the alley. Sin immediately grabbed his gun. His legs might be useless, but he had one good arm left. Aiming head-high, he waited for the people—it sounded like two—to come around the dumpster, listening to their feet moving closer.
"Sin?" Rissa asked just before she entered his sights. "I have help."
With a sigh, he lowered the weapon. "What did you do, Princess?" he asked. Then he saw her.
She'd changed clothes. The blue robe was long gone, replaced with a pair of loose black pants, some oversized shirt, and a dark jacket with a hood.
But when his eyes reached her face, he wanted to groan.
Just like the first punk to attack, she wore a lower face mask.
Hers was the kind meant to filter out pollution, but the grinning skull painted on it actually worked for her.
Beside her, however, was a man. A big one. The guy was large, tawny-skinned, and the way he looked at Rissa made it clear he meant her no harm. A split-second later, he finally saw Sin.
"Legate," he said, rushing over to check on him. "Rissa said you were wounded?"
Sin glanced at her quickly, surprised to hear she'd used her name.
She smiled, the mask curling as her cheeks lifted. "Jaime has offered to help me get you someplace safe," she said.
The man held out his hand, and Sin took it, allowing Jaime to pull him up. The problem was he couldn't stand. Not at all. Sin tried to cling to Jaime's shoulder, hoping to lessen the weight of his useless limbs, but it was all he could manage.
"What do you need?" the man asked.
"We need a place to hole up long enough for a pickup," Sin admitted.
"My shop's around the corner," Jaime assured him. "But there's a group that's been hanging out all day, looking for an Ingénue and her protector," he warned.
"Then I'm hoping you won't tell them about me," Sin said.
Jaime carried him, toes dragging on the asphalt, up the alley and around the corner. Small shops lined the street, and without fanfare, the man entered one, a tiny women's clothing boutique. Rissa trailed behind them, not making a sound until they were all the way inside.
"He needs to be out of sight," she said.
"In back," Jaime agreed, never slowing his steps.
They pushed through another door and into a tiny office. Jaime set him in a chair, then Sin did his best to straighten himself using only his arms. Every movement hurt, but he'd be damned if he let the people around him see it. He also had no intention of slumping like a rag doll.
"Here." Rissa thrust a pistol at him.
He hadn't seen her pick it up, but that was the one he'd left on the ground. His eyes scanned the side and he saw the safety was even latched. Tipping his head in appreciation, he accepted the weapon and shoved it back in the holster where it belonged.
"Where's your robe?" he asked.
"I have it in a bag," Jaime said. "Figured it wouldn't draw any attention if it looked like she went shopping. What else do you need, Brother?"
Sin sighed. "Fifteen minutes, that's all. I have help on the way. Just forget I'm here."
"More priests?" the man asked, obviously the shop owner. "That's going to draw some attention."
Sin reached for his neck, slowly dragging the steel chain from under his armor. "One, maybe two men with these. Probably plain clothes. If they don't have the necklace with the eye, then I'm not here right now."
"Right," Jaime said, and left the room, leaving the two of them alone.
"Rissa?" Sin asked, unable to stop thinking about his little conundrum. "Why are you the only one to wake up after the wipes?"
She paused for a little too long. "They don't talk to us about that. What do you know?"
"A bit. I've been trying hard to keep track of what's going on.
I know about your last handler getting killed, Riss.
I know you wiped and were unconscious when they removed you from the scene.
I also know you're the only one to wake up from a reset and be completely operational.
Does this have anything to do with you starting to keep your memories?
" He tilted his head, trying to show his question wasn't an accusation. "Is it an error in their code?"
Her eyes jumped to the side, refusing to meet his. "It's a modification."
Sin ran that through his mind a few times, trying to figure out what she meant. "So you're an experiment?"
"They don't know about it," she mumbled.
"Fuck," he breathed. "You modified the coding of your own mind?"
"Please don't tell them?" she begged.
He leaned his head back and sighed. "Princess, I'm not going to make your life harder. I'm certainly not going to say shit to your employers. I just can't believe I thought you were a spoiled brat. The fact that you have to hide your own memories? That's not even right!"
The look on her face was filled with nothing but relief.
Until that moment, he hadn't realized how true her title was.
This woman really was an angel. She was gentle yet strong, and had a grace about her he'd never seen in another living soul.
If being enhanced took away her humanity, then it had clearly replaced it with something else. Something a lot closer to divinity.
"I sectioned off a small piece of my mind for backup storage," she admitted. "And I try to keep a recent snapshot of my current mental state in there."
He just shook his head. "Don't even know what that means, but I trust you."
"Really?" she asked. "Is it because we're friends?"
"Yeah, Riss. I mean, I wouldn't get my legs shot out for just anyone."
The crinkles deepened as she smiled more and she actually giggled. "Yes, you would."
"Technicalities. We're still friends, though. And in a minute, I think you're going to get more." He paused, realizing how naive she was about the world outside her Enclave. "One thing."
"Yes?" Her head twitched slightly, as if she'd heard something.
"Not all Legates are your friends. Not yet. Just the Fallen." He tapped the chain around his neck. "For right now, only trust the people wearing one of these, ok?"
"Ok," she agreed.
But he could hear voices in the shop beyond. She turned to the door, proving he wasn't making it up. Sadly, he didn't know if it was his backup or the next wave of attackers. Reaching to his thigh, he powered on one of his guns.
"Riss, would you be a doll and come stand behind me? I might not block much, but it would make me feel better."
She did, but said, "We need to talk."
"You need to dump that solution, Princess, and I need some legs."
The door opened and she flinched. Sin grabbed her wrist, holding her at his side, and looked at the broad, bald man. He wore nothing more than a white close-fit shirt and loose dark jeans. A pair of pistols were strapped to each of the man's thighs, like always.
"Trent," he said, relieved.
Trent's eyes were locked on the girl, though. Slowly they roamed down her body, taking in her clothing, then moved back to her eyes. "Temptation causes the greatest sin, Brother."
"I know. Legate Trent Bader, I'd like you to meet Ingénue R1554-9370S-02K16. She answers to Rissa."
The big man nodded at her politely, then turned back to Sinclair. "Yeah. Rob's got a car. You want this official or quiet?"
"Quiet," Sin said without hesitation. "Get me home. Get her solution dumped, then bring her to me."
"Instead of taking her back?" Trent asked, making no attempt to hide his confusion.
"We've got a few things to cover before she goes back in her box," Sin assured him. "Trent, please?"
"Yeah," he said, dragging out the word. "You should also know Julie's dealing with the corpses you left."
"I owe her one," Sin said. "All of you. Thanks for the assist."
Trent simply opened the door and waved to someone on the other side. Almost immediately, a tall, buff, blonde man pulled the door a bit wider and stepped inside. It was Rob. His eyes quickly took in the scene, landing on Sin last.
"Damn," he groaned.
Trent chuckled. "Lemme help you get him out, then take him to the kid. Not a word of this. He wants it quiet."
"Yep," Rob agreed easily, looking at Rissa. "Nice assignment, Brother."
"Praetor's orders," Sin replied.
"We need to talk," Rissa said again, more forcefully.
He sighed. "I know. Trent, bring her to my place when she's done. I have to take her back anyway." He paused. "Oh, and the transfer isn't easy for her. She'll be weak. Carry her if you have to, but she prefers to keep her composure. Just…" He glanced over at Rissa. "Take care of her for me?"
"Promise," Trent said.
"It's a large download," Rissa added. "OutLink will assume it was a complicated problem. Many Ingénue are not finished within their allotted time. It would make for a plausible excuse."
Both Rob and Trent looked at her quickly, then at Sin. He shrugged. "Yeah, we all need to talk. C'mon, guys. Let's get this done."
"Call Julie and Davis," Trent told Rob. "I'll bring the Princess as soon as I can."
"Wait," she said, looking at Sin desperately. "I don't want to go without you."
"You have to, Riss," he explained. "Trent will take care of you. Trust me."
She nodded her agreement, and the men moved to either side of Sin, wrapping one of his arms around each of their necks.
He grunted as they lifted him, clenching his jaw against the pain.
His dead legs dragged on the floor as they hauled his broken body to a car just outside.
As they laid him on the seat, Sin caught Trent's eye.
"Do not let her out of your sight. She's the fucking answer."