Page 78 of Silent Lucidity

Abella eased forward, slipping her arm around Tenthil as he tensed, and smiled. “We’ll be getting a roomafterwe’ve spoken to Alkorin, and there isn’t enough money on this or any other world for you to have even the tiniest peek.”

Tenthil’s tension didn’t diminish. He held his gaze on the guards, and in a low, dangerous voice, said, “Plenty of time to kill both of you beforehand.”

The smirk dropped from the vorgal’s face, and he glared at Tenthil as he swung his blaster rifle into his hands. “That a threat?”

“A fact. Eyes off my mate and step aside.”

Tendons popped out on the vorgal’s throat as he bared his teeth and tusks. His hands tightened on his weapon. “Let’s see how—”

“I don’t think Alkorin would take too kindly to his staff mistreating paying clients,” Abella said.

“Enough, Torkin,” the other vorgal said. He lifted the inside of his wrist to his mouth. “Open it up.”

The etched door behind him lifted off the floor and receded into the high wall. Torkin grunted, cast another glare at Tenthil, and returned to his place beside the doorway.

The other vorgal stepped back and jerked his chin toward the next room. “Go.”

Slipping an arm around Abella to hold her closer, Tenthil walked with her through the open door.

Alkorin’s chamber was just as she remembered, though her appreciation of it was increased having just left Cullion’s. The moody lighting and coherent, minimalist design of this place was an expression of wealth that seemed directly opposed to the gaudy display of Cullion’s manor. The forger, if nothing else, had decent taste and at least some understanding of subtlety.

The blast door closed behind Abella and Tenthil, and they stepped farther into the room.

“Welcome back,” Alk said, calling Abella’s attention to one of the long couches.

The forger was reclining against an armrest, one leg bent, with his arm settled atop his knee. His robe—she knew that wasn’t quite the right term, but it was as close a garment as humans had—was open to reveal the sculpted muscles of his torso and the glowing yellow marks on his chest and neck. He smiled, his intense, shining eyes focused solely on Abella.

“You don’t look very busy,” she said.

“When I received word you were on your way in, I decided to make myself presentable.”

She swept her hand to indicate his state of dress—or lack thereof. “This ispresentable? Doesn’t look like you’re waiting to conduct business to me. Looks more like you’re waiting to be serviced.”

Tenthil growled but said nothing.

Alk’s smile broadened into a grin. “Simply waiting toserve.”

“Great. In that case…” Abella opened one of the pouches of her belt, scooped out a handful of credit chips, and held them toward Alkorin. “We’re ready for those ID Chips.”

The forger’s three eyes rounded for a moment before he swung his legs down, settling his feet on the floor, and stood up. He walked toward them; Tenthil kept himself planted between Alk and Abella until she finally shrugged out of his hold and stepped forward.

“Abella,” Tenthil rasped.

“It’s okay, Tenthil,” she said.

“You’re a brave little thing,” Alk said, stopping about a meter away. His tail swayed lazily behind him.

“Not so much. I think I just know you won’t hurt us. You’re one of the good ones.”

“Am I?” Alk’s eyes narrowed, the central one a little more than the other two. “I’m the head of a criminal enterprise, employing armed guards who would kill at a flick of my wrist. Is that the sort of individualhumansusually find worthy of trust?”

Abella glanced back at Tenthil. He’d killed more people than she could even begin to imagine, but he wasn’tbad. Misguided, desensitized to death, but never cruel.

She looked back to the forger, shrugged, and quoted something she once heard back on Earth. “Not all bad guys are…badguys.”

Alkorin tilted his head to the side, a few strands of his long, dark hair falling to cover one of his eyes. “Are all terrans like you, or are you unique among your kind?”

“The chips,” Tenthil said.

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