Chapter 6-3
1159 Words
Thrusting his chin out, Slade squinted at her. “Is the costume really necessary?” he asked, shaking his head. “I"ve seen your face, Isara. One might start to think that you are growing paranoid.”
She huddled in on herself, head bent so that he could only see the top of her hood. “You are not the only one who has seen my face,” she reminded him. “I would hate to be recognized by the wrong people.”
Well…she had a point.
He spun on his heel and left the room, strolling through the long hallway with his hands clasped behind his back. “So the boy is still missing,” he said. “And I take it he is still in possession of the Inzari device.”
“So far as I can tell.”
Contact with his symbiont allowed him to perceive Isara like a silhouette of wispy smoke in his mind"s eye. She walked behind him with fists clenched, grumbling to herself. Not long ago he had warned her that if she ever came to Earth without his permission, he would kill her, but the Inzari had decided to return Pennfield to the world of his birth, and Isara was to oversee his transition. One did not argue with a god, but it seemed as though his masters were growing desperate.
He stepped into the living room.
“How is our dearest friend Wesley?” Slade asked, turning around to face her. “More importantly, has he made any progress in finding the Key?”
The woman leaned one shoulder against the corridor wall, her eyes downcast so that he could not look into the hood. A habit, he assumed. “Pennfield no longer answers when I call.”
“Really?”
“I believe he might be playing his own game.” It came out as a growl. Something about Isara made him think of a feral lioness. “The humiliation he suffered at the hands of Hunter and Lenai seems to have affected him.”
Slade felt his lips peel back from clenched teeth, a soft hiss escaping him. He let his head drop. “Of course the man would choose now to come unbalanced. We have another problem on our hands.”
Isara perked up.
A surge of heat burned in Slade"s face, and he growled, shaking his head in disgust. “Jack Hunter is trying to contact a professor on Leyria,” he explained. “A man who built his career on studying the Inzari.”
Hearing that set off Isara. She strode past him, into the living room, and paused by the couch with her fists on her hips. “Does it really matter? What can this professor tell him that would be of any threat to us?”
“An unusually casual response from you.”
She whirled around to face him, instinctively smoothing the fabric of her dress with one hand. “The only alternative is to kill the scholar,” she said. “Is it worth drawing that much attention?”
“Hunter is very resourceful.”
With a sigh, Isara sat on the couch and folded her hands in her lap. It was odd, the sight of a hooded figure relaxing on his sofa as if they were about to share a friendly cup of tea. “How soon before the boy makes contact?”
“In all likelihood, he has already departed for Leyria.”
Isara was still for a moment, then she sat forward with elbows on her thighs and her chin resting on her laced fingers. “You realize we"re already too late,” she snapped at him. “Neither one of us could get to Leyria before he makes contact.”
Pressing his lips together, Slade narrowed his eyes to slits. “The thought did cross my mind,” he said, nodding once. “Which is why I ordered you to remain on Leyria in the first place.”
The woman remained doubled over with her hooded head bowed, refusing to show even a spec of irritation. “I have agents on Leyria,” she said. “If the good professor has to die, it can be arranged.”
She picked up the tablet that he had left on the couch cushion and began tapping at the screen with no regard for his privacy. “I will need to access the SlipGate to make an off-world call.”
Slade nodded.
A hundred years ago, when he first brought this woman into the fold, he expected her to grow into a grateful subordinate, but Isara had a dogged sense of independence, and she would accept no human as her superior. Only the Inzari could expect obedience from her. A pity.
She was the most skilled warrior that Slade had ever encountered, but a valued servant must possess more than the ability to physically dominate her opponents. For a moment, Slade wondered if she saw the irony in her complaints about Pennfield"s refusal to take direction.
Lifting the tablet up in front of her face, Isara stared into the screen as though she expected to find the secret of immortality therein. “He"s not answering,” she murmured a moment later. “I wonder…”
Had she meant for Slade to hear that? Though not as crafty as Pennfield, she could maneuver her adversaries into a vulnerable position when she set her mind to it. Only a fool let his guard down around Isara.
“Yes,” a deep voice said from the tablet"s speaker.
Isara leaned back against the couch cushions, holding the tablet up in one hand. “I require your services,” she replied. “There is a professor on Leyria who may cause my associates some difficulties.”
“I"m not on Leyria right now.”
“I can see that.”
Irritation mixed with anxiety to form a claw that gripped Slade"s chest. If the man wasn"t on Leyria, it was unlikely that he would be able to dispatch the professor before Hunter got to him. Still…There were times when a wise man learned how to delegate, and this was one of them.
“How soon can you be there?”
“Two days.”
Slade crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, hanging his head in frustration. “Is that the best you can do?” he asked. “I would remind you that Hunter may already be on Leyria.”
beIsara turned her head, allowing just a sliver of light to penetrate that hood, enough for him to see her frowning. “Col is my best operative,” she said. “It isn"t enough to kill the man; we must ensure that nothing leads back to us.”
“We still haven"t discussed payment,” a voice came from the tablet. “I want the best weapons you can provide.”
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