Page 45 of Silent Lucidity

If I don’t go now, I might never have another chance. I can’t be a slave again. I can’t.

Brows lowered, Abella faced forward, lifted her hood, and pressed the button the wall. The door slid open. Without another look back, she stepped over the threshold.

She paused as the door closed behind her, sweeping her eyes back and forth. The apartment’s entrance was positioned in a recess off a long, dimly lit corridor. Tenthil had led her through several such passages after they’d left the street, winding deeper and deeper into the chaotic mass of buildings that comprised so much of the Undercity. As confusing as these corridors were—especially when so many of them looked the same—shewouldfind her way out to the street again.

And once she was there, she’d get help.

Setting a brisk pace for herself, Abella retraced the path Tenthil had taken to the apartment to her best recollection.

It felt strange not being tucked against his side with his arm around her shoulders as she walked. That feeling compounded with a growing sense of isolation as she hurried through the deserted corridors, climbed several sets of stairs, and passed numerous closed doors.

She’d heard people call Arthos theInfinite Citymore times than she could count, and guessed there were hundreds of millions—if notbillions—of people living here. How couldanypart of it feel so empty?

After a while, dread pooled in her gut, and she suddenly didn’t feel so alone. Keeping her head tilted down, she glanced back.

Four figures, dressed in the same black attire as the assassins from the safehouse, were following only ten or fifteen meters behind her.

Abella’s blood turned to ice. Facing forward, she dropped her hand to the blaster at her hip and quickened her steps, taking several random turns in the hopes of losing her pursuers. Her pounding heartbeat filled her ears, and her breath burned her throat. When she looked over her shoulder again, the dark figures were only closer.

No. No, no, no no!

How had they found her?

Have they found Tenthil as well?

Fear slithered through Abella and wrapped its cold tendrils around her heart. He’d been in the shower when she left, with no one to warn him of the danger.

Tears stung her eyes as she broke into a run. Despite the immensity of her fear, it was overpowered by her regret. All she’d wanted for four years was to go home, but what price was she willing to pay to get there? Was she prepared to sacrifice the life of the man who’d freed her from Cullion if it meant seeing Earth again?

It wasn’t like she had a choice now; she’d led the assassins through so many twists and turns that she didn’t even know how to get back to the apartment.

Tenthil knows how to take care of himself. I’ve seen him fight. He’ll be…he’ll be fine.

But the thought offered her no comfort; she’d left him vulnerable. She’d left him without a word.

She rounded another corner, and some of her hope was suddenly restored—only five or ten meters ahead, the corridor opened onto a main street, where a multitude of aliens of various shapes and sizes were going about their business. The dim, oppressive lighting of the passageways through which she’d fled gave way to the vibrant, kaleidoscopic projections popular around the Undercity.

She’d never been so happy to see advertisements.

Abella didn’t dare look back as she sprinted the remaining distance to the street; she felt her pursuers’ closeness, and even the quickest backward glance would slow her too much. She plunged into the crowd, muttering apologies when she bumped into the aliens on its fringes, and slowed to a quick walk. Rapid, ragged breaths burned her lungs and throat as she fell in with the general flow of the foot traffic.

She scanned the crowd, looking for gold-clad members of the Eternal Guard. This was the safest place until she found help—Tenthil said these assassins were all about secrets. They wouldn’t act with so many witnesses present.

Would they?

Maintaining her forward momentum, she twisted to check behind her. Though they’d fanned out, she quickly spotted all four of the cloaked figures following her; they wove through the crowd effortlessly, steadily closing the distance separating them from Abella.

She faced forward and hurried along with the crowd until her frantic gaze finally settled upon a peacekeeper. Heart fluttering, she charged toward him through the throng, ignoring the snide remarks and threats tossed at her, shrugging off an angry shove and an elbow to her side. When she finally burst out of the press of bodies, she stumbled forward. She caught the peacekeeper’s arm to hold herself upright.

“Please,” Abella rasped, tilting her head back to look up at the peacekeeper’s face. He was a borian, his features both harsh and refined, and stood over two meters tall. His species had always reminded her of elves from fantasy books and movies—if those elves were broad-shouldered, towering barbarian warriors. “I need help.”

The peacekeeper frowned down at her. His sharp brows were angled low over his straight, aristocratic nose. “It is a criminal offense to lay hands upon a member of the Eternal Guard.”

Abella glanced at her hands, released her hold on him, and took a small step back before meeting his gaze again. “I need your help, please. I was kidnapped and sold, and I’m just trying to get back home, and now I’m being followed by assassins.”

The peacekeeper raised his armored forearm and pressed a finger to the wristguard. A tiny orb rose from the armor and hovered in the air between Abella and the borian, tiny beams of soft light pulsing from its underside.

“Stand still so I can scan your identification chip,” he said.

---