In the Devil's Nebula (Phoenix Adventures #2) (19 page)

Zayn frowned. “Shit.”

“We need to focus on any discrepancies,
anything that stands out. If we can break through the
hallucination, we should be able to see the real path.”

Both of them turned. Ria searched the walls.
White. White. And more white.

“It all looks the same to me.” Zayn ran his
hands over the wall.

“Let’s keep moving upward and keep
looking.”

But the stairs looked exactly as they had
before. Ria felt a choking sensation welling up inside. They might
be trapped in here when the assassins returned.

“Look.” Zayn pointed.

She eyed the spot on the wall and saw
nothing. “What?”

“There’s a mark there. It’s small. Looks
like a black smudge.”

She peered hard, felt like her vision was
wavering. For a second she thought she saw something sparkle, but
then it was just white wall again. Closing her eyes, she dragged in
a deep breath, then opened them again. “I don’t see anything, I
don’t think. Nothing seems real. It’s like a bad dream.”

“I know all about bad dreams, believe me.”
Zayn moved up behind her. His big body was warm, his arms
surrounded her. “This isn’t bad at all. Not when we’re together.”
He nuzzled the back of her neck.

Ria’s eyes fluttered shut. By the dagger, he
was a distraction. “What are you doing, Phoenix?”

“This is real, Ria. This thing between us.
I’ve felt nothing for two years, but you’ve brought everything back
to life.”

She leaned into him. She’d always imagined
living life alone but now she dared to think about sharing her life
with this man. To imagine the adventures they could take each other
on.

Ria opened her eyes and the wall in front of
her shimmered. And vanished.

She gasped. “Zayn. Do you see?”

“Jesus. Yeah, I do.”

They weren’t in a hall and there was no
staircase. They were in a massive room set up like a museum or art
gallery. Pieces of art sat on pedestals or hung on the walls, all
of them illuminated by warm lights.

Ria took a step toward the nearest pedestal.
“Incredible.” It held a long, sinuous statue of a woman. It looked
like the priestess art of the Isis Colony.

“Hell, yeah. Dathan would wet his pants in
here.” Zayn circled a gleaming silver appliance. “An Old Earth
laptop. This is worth about ten million e-creds on the open
market.”

“I never realized they had such a
collection.”

“Ria.”

Something in his voice made her turn. He was
pointing at the end of the room.

There was a small table made of stone,
almost like an altar. It sat on a small dais and in the center of
it sat a weapon.

An ancient Terran gun.

She moved to it. Zayn was beside her in an
instant. The engravings on the side of it were quite beautiful for
a gun that had assassinated an American President. A piece of
history vital to the Guild.

“The Lincoln Derringer.” She reached out and
lifted the gun from its holder.

“Here.” Zayn held a black bag open. Ria set
the piece of history inside like it was a fragile newborn baby.

“We did it.” She felt dazed. This was the
thing she was sure would grant her freedom. Something that had once
caused destruction would now do some good.

“We sure as hell did.” Zayn yanked her up on
her toes and planted a kiss on her lips.

With a laugh, she threw her arms around his
neck and kissed him back with every ounce of emotion in her.

Then a clicking sound echoed through the
room. They broke apart.

Another clicking sound.

Ria realized the other pieces of art were
retracting, one by one, into their pedestals. The paintings on the
wall slid back into the wall.

“Uh oh.”

Zayn frowned. “We should go. Now.”

They raced to the door. Ria moved to open
it, but it was locked shut. She yanked and yanked. Zayn gripped the
handle as well and pulled.

Locked tight.

Now another sound reached them. Footsteps.
Quiet, even steps.

They spun.

A figure emerged from the shadows. It was
covered all in black. Even the head. The figure stopped on the
other side of the room just watching them.

More footsteps.

Like a regular beat of a ticking clock.
Footsteps in perfect precision.

Three more figures, dressed exactly like the
first emerged and stood behind the first.

“Guards?” Zayn said.

Ria had a sinking feeling. “No. But I think
I know what they are. I thought they were just a myth.” One
whispered about in the halls of the Guild. “They’re syndroids. All
programmed with the memories of past assassins. No emotions, no
weaknesses, fast reflexes and inexhaustible stamina. The ultimate
killers.”

They definitely hadn’t planned for syndroids.
Zayn watched the eerie group. Then the lead syn stepped forward and
lifted its hands.

There was a near silent whirr. The lifelike
hands twirled and changed. Morphing into long blades.

Oh, shit
. There was more whirring
now. The others were also changing. One had a large hook, another a
curved blade and the final one what looked like a projectile
weapon.

Two split off, veering left toward Ria. The
other two started a steady march toward Zayn.

He bent his knees, preparing for the attack.
When they did launch, they were damned fast. In a flash of black,
two were on him. One powerful kick and Zayn flew backward and
slammed into the wall.

With the air knocked out of him, he rolled
to his knees, trying to get to his feet. He caught the glint of
metal and scuttled backward. A long blade lodged into the wall in
front of him. Zayn turned and sprinted like a galactic Olympian. He
dodged around pedestals and while he couldn’t hear a sound, he knew
they were coming.

A quick glance back and he saw Ria fighting
with her syndroids. Damn, she was good. She moved with a lethal
grace he couldn’t help but admire. She leaped up, swinging her
blades. She hit the closest syndroid with brutal force and its head
rolled off, hitting the floor. Seconds later, the body dropped to
the ground.

A weight slammed into Zayn from behind.

He skidded across the floor, rolling onto
his back as he did. Before he could move, the syndroid lunged
forward and pinned his legs with its torso. It was the one with the
hook. It raised its arm, the hook arched above Zayn’s head. He
jerked to the side just as the deadly metal slammed into the floor
two centimeters from his face. There was so much force behind the
blow, chips of tile splintered upward.

Zayn wished for a weapon. Then he
remembered.

He shoved a hand into his robes. He ripped
out the plasma stunner, aimed and fired.

The syndroid’s blank face distorted where
the plasma hit. Then the blue plasma was absorbed by the damn
thing, disappearing like it had never existed. Its face rearranged
back to a smooth blank surface.

Fuck
. Zayn fired again and again. All
the plasma disappeared but the droid looked dazed, slowly shaking
its head from side to side. The stunner clicked. Overheated.

With a vicious swing, Zayn threw the weapon
at the droid. He turned, trying to pull out from under the syn. His
hands groped across the floor. His fingertips brushed stone.

The base of a pedestal.

He gripped the stone column, gave a hard
yank. When the heavy pedestal tilted to the side, he offered up a
silent thanks to whatever gods were watching.

He yanked it again, with as much force as he
could muster in his awkward position. He swung it at the
syndroid.

The side of the syn’s head buckled in. It
lifted its arm, the hook looking obscene in the light. Then it
slowly slumped. The hook
clunked
on the floor.

Zayn released a long breath.

Then he looked up and the air rushed out of
him.

The second syndroid was advancing.

Zayn sat up, lifting the heavy pedestal
again. But before he could swing it, the syndroid’s long sword
slammed into the stone, shattering it into pieces. As dust and
small rocks rained down on him, Zayn shook his head.

The syndroid lunged forward and that wicked
sword pierced Zayn’s shoulder, pinning him to the floor. He cried
out. The pain was outrageous.

The droid lifted its other arm. The second
sword lifted high above Zayn, aimed for the center of his
forehead.

He jerked, the blade in his shoulder causing
screaming pain.

Then the tips of two knives burst through
the center of the syndroid’s chest. The machine looked down, and
Zayn guessed that if it was capable of emotion, its face would show
shock.

Ria wrenched her blades sideways, causing
terrible damage to the syn’s chest. Sparks flew and with a grinding
drone, the syndroid froze. As it pitched to the side, Ria caught
it. Carefully, she leaned forward and pulled the syn’s sword from
Zayn’s shoulder.

Zayn cursed, slapping a hand over the
bleeding gash. He managed a grin. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. I have more plans for this
lean body of yours. Getting slaughtered by a syndroid wasn’t on my
agenda.”

Suddenly hands gripped Ria’s arms, yanking
her upward.

Another syndroid had some out of
nowhere.

The machine’s hands curled around her neck,
cutting off her air. She kicked wildly, trying to reach the syn.
Her face turned red.

Zayn scrambled to get to his feet. The
syndroid kicked out, catching Zayn in the shoulder. The pain sent
him to his knees, nausea rushing through him.

No
. He had to get to Ria.

He heard her choking sounds. He managed to
get upright, blood streaming freely down his left arm. She was
still fighting the machine, but it just held her with its superior
strength.

Zayn charged. He took a few running steps
and tackled the syndroid. All three of them crashed to the ground.
The droid kept its hard grip on Ria’s neck.

“Let her go, you tin can.” Zayn slammed a
fist into the droid’s black face. It didn’t react.

Standing up, he slammed a boot down on the
syndroid. Again. Again.

It released Ria.

She rolled away, coughing and gagging. She
sucked in deep breaths between coughs.

The syndroid swiveled its head. Zayn didn’t
see any eyes, but he knew the flame-burned son of bitch was looking
at him.

It took a step forward and Zayn took one
backward. It strode closer and Zayn kept backing up. He grabbed the
bag attached to his waist and tossed it at Ria. It hit at her feet.
“Get out of here.”

She coughed again. “Always…trying to be a
hero.” Then she bent over the droid she’d stabbed to save him.
Using her blade again she started hacking at the droid. What the
hell?

Then the syndroid stalking him stopped and
raised an arm. That whirr again—another damn sound to haunt Zayn’s
dreams. If he survived to have any more dreams.

A stunner appeared at the end of the droid’s
arm.

“Zayn!”

He looked over to see something flying at
him.

The last droid’s arm. With sword
attached.

Zayn gripped it, held it in front of him
like a lance and charged.

The sword pierced the syndroid’s stomach.
Zayn pulled back and stabbed again. The light behind the droid’s
eye area dimmed, flickered, and then went black.

God
. Zayn, pushed the sword away. The
syndroid fell backward, the sword still lodged in it. Zayn stumbled
back a few steps, then spun, looking for Ria.

Her hair had come loose and was a tangled
cloud around her face. Her neck was covered in red marks that would
bruise if they couldn’t get to a medscope in time. But she was
alive. Gloriously alive.

He strode toward her and she met him half
way. He swept her close, pressing his face into her hair. “Damn,
that was close.”

She nodded, her hands clutching his
shoulders.

“You’re okay?”

She nodded again, pulled back. “But you’re
hurt.” She probed his shoulder wound. “God, Zayn, you’re still
bleeding.”

He watched her tug at his robes until they
fell off his body. He just wore cargo trousers and a black T-shirt
underneath. She ripped some fabric off the robes and balled it up
over his wound.

“It’s deep.” She wrapped more fabric around
his shoulder and arm to hold it all in place.

“I’ll live. And when we get back to the
Infinitas
, you can play nurse.” He shot her a hopeful
look.

She shook her head, then walked over to pick
up the bag he’d tossed at her. She opened it and they both stared
at the still intact treasure they’d come for. “How about we get the
hell out of here?”

“Best idea you’ve had all day.” He glanced
at the main door. “Doesn’t look like we can head that way.”

“I saw some other smaller doorways marked on
the map. Back this way.” She led him over to a side wall. The first
door opened soundlessly.

Zayn moved through it, then jerked to a
halt.

“What is it?” she demanded, trying to look
around him.

But as Zayn stared at the cell and the table
and chains in the center, all he could see was his worst
nightmare.

***

“Zayn?” What was wrong with him?

Ria watched as he gripped the doorjamb with
fingers that turned white. He stared into the interrogation room
like all he saw was horror.

She scanned the empty room, bile rising in
her throat. She’d heard the whispers about torture, that the Guild
kept master torturers hidden away.

Zayn took a staggering step forward, his
face twisted with pain. “This is the place.”

The place? Ria frowned. Then it hit her.

He dropped to his knees, the muscles in his
neck straining. “She suffered here. She died here. I killed her and
every time I think that maybe I can move past it, it hits me
again.” He slammed his hands against the concrete floor.