Word and Breath (32 page)

He pulled up a hatch in the bottom of the van and was relieved that the manhole in the street was accessible. He hadn’t lined it up perfectly, but it was close enough.

He bent down to pull up the manhole cover.

A murmur of relief rippled through the van’s occupants, leaving Connor feeling absurdly proud of his careful preparations regarding escape routes. He’d had six of them, having tried to predict every potential eventuality.

“Shall we?” Connor asked, gesturing with exaggerated courtesy down at the manhole.

They all crawled down, with difficulty and not much grace. The sewers were disgusting and foul-smelling, but nobody complained.

Connor knew where he was going. He’d used the sewers before. So he started to lead the small group through the maze of the damp tunnels.

“You’re brilliant!” Riana breathed, giving his arm a squeeze.

Had it been a more opportune time, Connor would have preened.

Mikel was getting paler, and he stumbled a little as he walked. Riana ran over and put an arm around him for support.

Knowing it wouldn’t take their pursuers long to figure out where they’d gone, Connor kept them underground as briefly as possibly. He led them to an outlet in an alley less than a mile away—but one where they could easily get to another truck he’d placed strategically in case they needed it.

As they crawled back up into daylight, Connor saw Donn was faltering as he carried Jannie. He took the girl in his arms himself. He almost felt sorry for Mikel. The poor guy looked terrible. He’d lost a lot of blood, and he was now as white as his hair.

They needed to get him to medical attention immediately.

When they turned the corner to the street on which the truck was parked, they ran into a small group of police. The Union guards must have called for backup in the search for them.

So close to reaching their goal, they didn’t hesitate in defending themselves. Tava, Donn, and Mikel each took on one of the policemen—the Breathers knocking them unconscious with their connections and Donn using his fist.

When the last police officer went for Connor, who was hampered by Jannie, Riana made a guttural sound of resistance. Something odd flickered across her face at the threat to her sister and Connor.

She had the gun Mikel had given her, but Connor knew she wasn’t comfortable using it.

He was trying to reach his own gun in an automatic instinct to help her when Riana slammed the butt of her gun into the policeman’s skull. “Don’t you dare touch them!” she said as the man collapsed to the pavement.

“What?” she demanded, when he just stared at her for long moment. He’d seen a purpose in her face—a clear sense of mission—that he hadn’t seen there before.

It was encouraging.

“Nothing.” Connor smiled with a fondness he couldn’t possibly hide. “Thank you.”

Riana glanced around to assure herself that everything else was under control before she turned back to Connor. “I mostly didn’t want him to get Jannie,” she said, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You just happened to be there too.”

He laughed, telling himself yet again that—no matter how perfectly they were matched—she just wasn’t his to love. “Well, I don’t mind being your afterthought.”

The truth was, afterthought or not, he wanted to be in her life however he was allowed.

Less than an hour later, the battered, bedraggled group of rescuers stumbled into Tava’s apartment.

She would probably have to move after this week. Too much suspicious activity had taken place here in the last several days. Someone would notice.

Mikel felt like an idiot. He was weak and unsteady on his feet, even as the tension in his chest from the danger of the last hours finally relaxed. He didn’t mind the way Riana kept her arm around him and the way her anxious eyes kept peering at his face. He hated feeling so helpless, though.

He was pathetic and dead white. He knew he’d lost a lot of blood. The pain in his shoulder had dulled to a throbbing ache, but he was having more and more trouble focusing enough to put one foot in front of the other. Plus, his hands shook embarrassingly.

It was a relief when Riana helped him over to lie on a couch in the living room after Tava had spread out a thick blanket to protect the upholstery from blood. He just wished he wasn’t moving so clumsily and that he hadn’t groaned when he accidentally jarred his shoulder.

He hated being like this. Hated being weak.

And he didn’t want anyone—particularly Riana—to see him in such pitiful shape.

“I’m fine,” Mikel muttered when Connor, looking depressingly fit and energetic, came over to examine the wound.

Riana had gone over to hug Jannie, who was sitting on a chair looking baffled and thrilled at once.

Riana’s sister seemed to be a nice, brave, and sensible. She hadn’t had hysterics or asked a bunch of annoying questions while they’d been escaping. In fact, she’d stayed perfectly quiet, which was the smartest thing she could have done. She wasn’t as beautiful as Riana, and she lacked that distinct
something
that made Riana so special—the deep, spicy, untouched taste of her. But Mikel was glad they’d been able to get her out alive.

If only he hadn’t been sloppy enough to get injured.

Connor was in his element. He called up someone with medical training and ordered him to come right over. Then he made some more calls, preparing to get Riana and Jannie temporarily out of the city until the worst of the danger had blown over.

Tava raided her first aid kit and started to pull Mikel’s torn, bloodied shirt off. He shifted in instinctive resistance.

It was irrational, perhaps, but he was very uncomfortable being tended like this.

Without a word, Riana came over and took over where Tava left off. She was paler than she should be, and her hands trembled as she gently pulled the fabric of his shirt away from the wound. She obviously didn’t enjoy the sight of Mikel so injured.

Her reaction was oddly reassuring. She was worried about him. She cared for him. Wanted to take care of him.

So he let her remove the remnants of his shirt and start mopping up the blood. Thanks to his self-done crisis-treatment earlier, the bleeding had slowed considerably, but he knew he’d lost too much blood. He was staying conscious mainly on adrenalin.

Connor was still on the phone, and Mikel tried to listen to the one sided conversation, needing something to focus on.

Connor was asking someone about the state of affairs in Public Security—about Largan’s status and what efforts had been mobilized to find them. Connor was confident and capable. He had an impressive mind, invariably asking the right questions and making things happen with efficiency and clarity.

It was interesting. He acted like he was always in charge.

Something stirred in the back of Mikel’s mind. Something his pained consciousness was too blurry to capture.

When Riana brushed his cheek and murmured, “Mikel? Are you awake?” he realized he’d faded out for a bit.

“Yeah. Sorry. I guess it’s not the best time for a nap.”

Riana gave a choked little giggle, and her eyes were soft and fond.

Mikel had never imagined that anyone would look at him like that.

“The doctor’s here.”

Despite himself, Mikel was relieved. He knew he needed the help of a medical professional, no matter how self-sufficient he preferred to be. So he braced himself for the doctor.

It wasn’t a good half-hour.

The others left the room, except for Tava, who evidently had some nursing background and stayed to help the doctor work.

Mikel was glad no one else was present to witness the procedure. They didn’t have the equipment to anesthetize him even mildly, so the removal of the bullet was painful to the point of agony. He managed not to scream—although he came embarrassingly close a few times. He forcefully suppressed the urge, knowing Riana was in the next room.

“Okay,” the doctor said after he’d bandaged Mikel up and Tava had helped him into an old t-shirt. “You should recover fine. It wasn’t a messy wound. We’ll just need to watch out for infection.” The man pulled a bottle of pills out of his bag. “And I’ll leave you these pain killers. You’ll probably need them.”

The doctor walked back to the other room with Tava, and soon Riana hurried in, looking strained and still pale.

She came over to Mikel and lowered herself to sit on the floor next to the couch. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. No problem.”

“Liar. Tava said you believe in macho stoicism.”

“Of course. What did you expect?”

Riana’s face crumpled with emotion, even as she smiled. She reached for his hand and gently pushed her fingers against his.

Mikel understood the gesture and understood what she wanted, so he opened a connection between them—a faint one. He didn’t have enough energy or concentration for more.

But, through even such a light contact, he experienced the breathtaking rush of her gratitude, her affection, and her admiration.

The recognition touched something deep inside him, something that had been cold for too long.

She thought he was a hero. She thought he was the bravest man she’d ever known.

She thought he was good.

The knowledge warmed him, thrilled him, soothed him more than any painkiller ever created.

In a dizzying whirl of sensation and emotion, Mikel ended the connection. He was drowning in the sweetness of her, and if he breathed in much more of Riana in his weakened state, it might do him in completely.

Even after he broke the connection, Riana didn’t pull her hand away. She silently twined her fingers in his with an instinctive trust that needed no words.

It was worth it, Mikel realized. All of it. Reshaping his whole world.

Just for this.

Jannie entered the room, then. She was walking—which surprised Mikel. He hadn’t realized she could walk on her own, but it was good since they’d had to leave her wheelchair in the bunker. She moved slowly, helped by Tava, but she was able to come over to them and sit down next to Riana on the floor.

Noting their clasped hands, Jannie leaned over and whispered to her sister, “So I guess things have been moving along quite nicely since I’ve been gone.”

Her voice was barely a breath, but Mikel had the heightened senses of a Soul-Breather. He heard her and it made him smile.

It made Riana laugh.

The others came into the room as well and started to talk. Mikel tried to follow the conversation, but he was completely worn out by the pain, the loss of blood, and the exertion.

Like a fool, he fell asleep.

He felt a lot better when he woke up, which was two hours later. His energy was partially restored, and the painkillers had started to take effect.

Obviously, Riana hadn’t spent the last two hours fawning over him. Both she and Jannie had showered and changed clothes, and Jannie was now at the table, finishing up what looked like a meal of soup and bread.

The others were scattered around the room, and Riana had returned to the floor beside Mikel. When he woke up, she smiled at him—in such an intimate way that Mikel reached out to take her hand again.

“We were just trying to figure out what to do now,” she explained softly. “Are you hungry? I can get you—”

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice surprisingly scratchy. “Thanks.”

Connor sat in a leather chair across the room. His eyes had an oddly distanced appearance as he observed the two of them. Mikel was pretty sure he knew what caused it. He’d seen the way the other man had smiled at Riana in the alley earlier today.

It answered a couple of important questions.

Connor cleared his throat. All it took was that small noise, and everyone in the room turned their attention to the man.

That inkling of a realization sparked up again in the back of Mikel’s mind.

“Largan mobilized a search for Riana and Jannie,” Connor explained, obviously filling Mikel in on the information he missed during his nap. “To our advantage, he wasn’t supposed to have Jannie in the first place, so the police are looking for Riana alone rather than both of them. In two hours, I’ve arranged to have someone pick them up and get them out of town for a couple of weeks. I have a friend who has an estate in the mountains. It should be safe and restful.”

“We’ll need medicine,” Riana put in. “For Jannie.”

“I’ve got it all taken care of.” Connor’s smile softened as he moved his eyes over to the younger Cole sister. “I’m so glad you’re with us now, Jannie.”

“Me too.” She was a cheerful little soul—despite her physical difficulties—and she had a remarkably ability to stay quiet when necessary that he’d never seen in a sixteen-year-old before. No wonder Riana loved her so much. “I never would have guessed you were a big rebel,” she added, grinning at Connor.

“We’ll all need to keep our eyes open about what’s happening at Union headquarters,” Connor continued, after another smile at Jannie and an awkward shift in his chair at her teasing. “We still need to decide what’s best for Riana in the long run. The Zealots will still be looking for her, in addition to the Union. At least now we know why.”

Mikel adjusted himself on the couch, taking care not to lose his grip on Riana’s hand. He didn’t at all like the way Connor was talking—as if he were in control of what happened to Riana, as if he could make decisions for her.

“Other than getting Jannie back, the biggest blessing of the trip was getting this.” Connor put his hand on the sheath of papers they’d taken from the bunker—the illicit photocopy of Marshall Cole’s prized book. “Riana and I can start work on translating it.”

“Assuming she wants to,” Mikel said rather pointedly.

Connor looked vaguely surprised. He also appeared to be avoiding their twined hands. “Of course. If she wants to do something else first…”

That wasn’t what Mikel had meant, but he saw Connor hadn’t deliberately misunderstood him. The man genuinely couldn’t fathom Riana’s not wanting to mess with that stupid book at all.

Mikel had been surprised by Largan—going to almost fanatical lengths to get a book translated. While Mikel didn’t have any of the anti-reading sentiment that Zealots possessed, an ancient book would never be one of his priorities.

Mikel had actually started to respect Largan for his sense and competence, but he couldn’t understand what would have driven the man to do what he did. To risk everything for such a trivial cause.

“Excuse me,” he interrupted, straightening up on the couch. Lounging as he was put him at a disadvantage, “What I meant is that perhaps Riana doesn’t want to bother translating the book at all, especially since it’s likely to threaten her safety again. You’re imposing your own agenda on her. That’s what got her into this mess to begin with.”

“Mikel,” Riana murmured, squeezing his hand, “It’s okay. You don’t—”

“What exactly does that mean?” Connor asked coldly, speaking at the same time.

“It means,” Mikel began, experiencing an icy streak of anger as he moved into the confrontation that had been long coming, “Riana might never have come to the attention of the Union had the Front not made advances on her. Pulling her into your political games put her life in danger. And Jannie’s too.”

Connor’s blue eyes never wavered, and Mikel knew the man understood the undercurrents to his words. “And you hold me responsible for that.” It was a statement, not a question.

It finally clicked in Mikel’s mind—that inkling he hadn’t been able to put his finger on until now. “You’re the one who makes the final call on things, aren’t you?”

There was dead silence in the room for a second. Then a murmur as they realized the implications of his question.

Connor was the Librarian. Mikel had been intentionally kept in the dark, but he was neither ignorant nor near-sighted. It wasn’t just the innate authority Connor carried with members of the Front. The mind Mikel had sensed behind all of the doings of the Front for the last week was the same mind that had planned a random manhole as an escape route.

Meticulous, controlled, calculating, always careful. That was the mind of the Librarian.