Page 35 of A Darkside Interlude

It was quite the opposite; he made her skin crawl. Instead, Mari’s thoughts turned to the hard-faced stranger who had chased her into the Dust Alleys the night before.

That Kordolian. Terrifying when he was angry, sublime when he was being kind. A man whose name she didn’t even know; a man she would probably never see again, unless her wildest dreams came true.

A deep yearning took hold in her chest, but Mari ruthlessly quashed it. There was no time for such feelings right now. She had to deliver the performance of her life.

“What do you want of me, Master?” She injected an earnest little quiver into her voice, projecting fear and reverence.

Ha. Stockholm syndrome on steroids. Is he gonna buy it?

She had to get him off-guard, had to make him think she was just a meek, naive little slum girl.

“We all have a place in the Universe, Wednesday.” His voice was deceptively kind. “You were doomed to a life of poverty until I found you. As soon as I saw you on the Glory Strip, I knew I had to have you. When they told me you were a thief and not a streetwalker, your fate was decided. What I offer is a fair trade. In exchange for your complete servitude, you will live a comfortable existence, free from hunger, poverty, disease, and the Syndicate’s reach.”

And what if I don’t want to serve you, asshole? This rich man sure had some sort of savior-complex. You think you’re doing me a favor by owning me? Stop trying to justify your perversion, old man.

She looked down, hoping he would mistake her lack of eye contact for submission. In truth, she was seething, and she was afraid he might see it in her eyes. “Th-thank you, Master,” she whispered, the words burning her throat like acid.

The man chuckled. “Now come with me, girl.” He rose off the sofa, pulling Mari to her feet. Leading her by the hand, he made his way toward the bedroom. “It is time for me to enjoy unwrapping my present.”

He sounded so damn full of himself. Mari wanted to smash his face in. Part of her wondered what the Kordolian would make of all this. What would he do if he knew she was being held here against her will?

Would he even care?

As Mari followed the dark-suited man into the bedroom, she hid her right arm behind her back. With her pinky finger, she felt for the shock-necklace concealed up her long sleeve.

It hadn’t been hard to figure out how to use the control-wand to remove the necklace. One simply pressed a button that activated the release mechanism. Mari had done it while waiting for the ‘Master’. Pretending to scratch an itch, she’d removed the thing, hiding it up her sleeve beside the control-wand.

Think, girl, think…

Now she just had to figure out how to use the awful device. At the same time, she had to play along with the creepy rich guy.

Of course, it was all an act, and it was the hardest thing she’d ever done in her life, even harder than flirting with constant danger on the Glory Strip.

At least in Darkside, she could run away. The dense crowds and narrow alleys were her cover, her sanctuary.

But here, there was nowhere to go. She was trapped, and even if she managed to overpower this man and escape, she didn’t know what awaited her outside.

What if there were armed guards or security drones in the corridors?

A crazy plan began to form in her mind. It was so crazy—and dare she say it, brutal—that it might just work.

And if it did, this man would do whatever the hell she wanted. Mari was certain of it. He would lead her right out the front door if she asked, and she would never look back.

Chapter Seventeen

“That’s the place, Sir.” Vaka brought up aerial vision of the compound where they’d taken Mari—his Mari. “How do you want to proceed?”

Anger snapped and licked at the corners of Iskar’s mind like a raging fire. He glanced at the human, K, who was slumped on the floor with his arms and legs bound. Both of his hands were covered in haem-patch, to stop the bleeding.

Beside the human was another culprit, the so-called Middleman.

The Middleman was a fat, aging human with a large bulbous nose and perpetually red cheeks. Everything about him seemed strained—the false hair on his head, the slightly too-tight suit, the long shiny shoes. Sensing Iskar’s scrutiny, he looked up, met his gaze, and quickly looked away.

“I d-don’t know who’s bought her. Ya gotta ask the Middleman. He’s responsible for all the wheelin’ and dealin’ of bodies in this town.” That’s what K had eventually told him, amidst screams of pain. It had only taken three severed digits—shiny rings and all—for the human to spill, surprising Iskar. Of course, he’d done all this on the ground, out of the human boy’s sight. In his experience, the guilty ones usually held out for longer, but then again, he’d never really interrogated a human before.

They’d taken the now-terrified K up into the glider, where he’d communicated with his men, ordering them to detain the Middleman. He understood perfectly well that if Iskar’s target escaped, he was dead.

And so they’d cut a swathe through Darkside looking for this middleman. At one point, a fleet of Enforcer vehicles had appeared on their tail, attempting to give chase.

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