Page 11 of Bound

“When do we leave?”

Fenek gets up from behind his desk and walks past me to the door. “I am leaving now. You can follow on this evening. I’d like Chrissie in Artalen for tomorrow, so she can be prepared to sing the next nova-night.”

“Have you told her?” I shift my position slightly, flexing my wings.

Fenek turns at the door. “I’ll leave that up to you. Your pre-programmed transport will arrive here this evening. Be ready,” he says. “The itinerary is on your vid screen, along with all the details of the accommodation.”

I have a vid screen?

As if in answer to my un-voiced question, Fenek taps on a wall, and a drawer slides out. Inside is a vid screen.

“Keep it with you at all times,” he says, walking through the door.

I resolve there and then to be sure to not keep it with me at all times.

I follow him with an unconcerned air, one I’ve cultivated over a long time, keeping my distance but still being close enough he notices, until he gets into the transport waiting outside.

“I need Chrissie. The concert I have arranged for her is very important to me, and to you if you want to keep this job,” Fenek says. “I expect you to follow my orders and check with me if you wish to do anything different.”

I get the impression he might have found out about my additional security measures. Not that he can complain.

I thump my arm across my chest and give him a short bow. “As you wish.”

Fenek looks inordinately pleased with my reaction. It’s a shame he hasn’t studied gladiators more, or he’d know my response was exactly the one I give all the challengers in the dome before I end them.

The transport moves away, and I look at the dwelling. Obviously, I need to break the news to Chrissie about this apparently impromptu trip, but I also need to deal with a few matters first, matters which are weapons related.

I’m not going anywhere unless I have what I need to protect her.

CHRISSIE

I set the small ‘beat box’, as I call it, on the table in the large living area Fenek never uses. It has the best acoustics I’ve ever come across and is the perfect place to practice without straining anything.

The box is programmed with my backing music. Music itself is not unusual on Trefa, or in Tatatunga, but it seems there are few singers. This could be due to the myriad of different species and cultures, but as so many seem to enjoy my singing, it does seem strange there are so few of us. But music means there are instruments, or tech, like my beat box, which allowed me to create a number of basic backing tracks I can use when I sing, although mostly, it’s only my voice.

Having run through a few exercises, I start with one of my favorite songs by Kate Rusby. One I hardly ever got to sing because the band preferred Eighties rock ballads, which I am not opposed to, but it’s nice to sing something soft every once in a while.

As my voice dies away in the room, I feel the hairs on the back of my neck prickle as if someone is watching me. I don’t want to move, so I slowly, painfully turn my head until my eye is drawn to a pool of feathers.

Feathers which I follow upwards until I come to a bare-chested, heavily muscled Rych, who has his arms folded over his chest. Along with his necklaces, he has a leather strap in a “v” shape which is set with a glowing stone and two heavy gold cuffs on his forearms.

“Is everything okay?” I reach for my stick and switch off the music.

“Fenek wants us to travel to Artalen, tonight. Transport will be here soon.” He says gruffly.

“Artalen?”

“Yes,” Rych replies. “Dry, arid, boring as vrex, but it’s where we’re going. He wants you to sing.”

“Somewhere dry. Awesome,” I mutter to myself, picking up my box and my stick and getting to my feet. “Did he leave you to deliver any more fun messages?” I ask Rych.

He straightens his shoulders, pulling himself up to his full height, which is pretty impressive.

“Only I am to take care of you.”

An anger rises up inside me. I want to shout about being able to take care of myself. I don’t need anyone else’s help. I can do this. I’ve always done what I wanted when I wanted. My dad made sure I was as independent as they come.

But it’s pointless. Utterly pointless.

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