The League 1: Born Of The Night Read online

  She seemed to have aged forty years before she heard someone else outside her door. Her heart pounded in short staccato beats at the sizzling sound of a torch cutting through the steel.

  Kiara gripped the bed frame with her left hand and clutched the remnants of her nightgown with her right. Her head was so light from her panic, she feared she might faint.

  A loud pop sounded just before a large piece of the door fell in. Her stomach knotted into a cold lump. Light from a torch traveled about the room, stop­ping as it illuminated her.

  Despite the pain of her adjusting eyes, she tried to see beyond the light, to whoever held it, but all she saw was a large, black blob.

  The blob stepped through the hole and entered her room.

  Kiara tucked her legs under her so she could quickly rise to her feet if she needed to. A trickle of sweat ran down her temple. She tensed, ready to strike out with whatever resistance her battered, tired body could muster.

  The overhead lights returned, burning her eyes. Kiara blinked several times and the blob turned into a soldier dressed in a black battlesuit. A dense black helmet covered his face, preventing her from seeing what race he belonged to. No insignia or flag marked his uniform in any way.

  Who was he?

  She stared at him, still uncertain whether he would help her, or harm her more. Until she knew the answer, she would play docile, lulling him into thinking her harmless. And if he did intend to hurt her, she would knee him where it would do her the most good. But he didn't move closer.

  To her surprise, he shut off the torch and placed it on the floor. She prepared to run.

  Unaware of her intent, he unstrapped his helmet from the lines securing it to his battlesuit and removed it.

  Kiara was amazed by the handsomeness of his face. His long, brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and two small, silver hoops dangled from his left ear-lobe. His dark eyes moved over her body, measuring her state of disarray.

  When he looked back at her face, she saw pity and concern. "I'm Rachol," he said quietly in the Universal language as if coaxing a skittish gimfry. "I'm not going to hurt you."

  Kiara believed him. She released her grip on the bed. Another wave of tears washed down her cheeks. She was safe!

  The soldier moved toward her cautiously. "Can you understand me?"

  She realized his accent was Ritadarion, an allied planet to her own. "Yes," Kiara said, trying to staunch her tears.

  He removed his jacket and gently wrapped her in it. "Everything's all right, we'll take you home." He straightened and held his hand out to her.

  Kiara placed her tiny, icy hand into his large, warm one. He pulled her to her feet. She took a single step, then crumpled.

  In a blurred flash, he knelt beside her. "Are you okay?" his voice was warm with concern.

  "I don't understand," she mumbled. "I can't walk!" Another wave of panic tore through her.

  "Shh," Rachol soothed. "You're in mild shock. Little wonder after having to be near those two. Don't worry, it'll pass." His hand gripped his ribs as he swept her with a measuring gaze. "I can't carry you," he said after a minute. "I've got a wound healing in my side and if I pick you up, I'll open it."

  He lifted her chin until she stared into his kind, dark brown eyes. "Do you trust me?"

  For some unknown reason, she did. "Yes."

  He nodded and smiled. "I'm going to ask a friend to carry you back to our ship. Promise me you won't faint when he gets here."

  Kiara frowned at his words, wondering why he felt it necessary to ask for such a promise. "I don't faint."

  Rachol gave her a skeptical look, then pulled out a hand-held communicator from his belt. "Nemesis, I need assistance."

  Kiara's blood fled her face. "Nemesis!" she shrieked, pushing herself away from Rachol.

  For a moment, she thought she might faint after all. Nemesis was the most feared assassin to ever live. Every known government, including her own, wanted him dead.

  "He won't hurt you," Rachol soothed.

  Kiara wasn't listening. Instead, she heard the vari­ous news reports that aired regularly about the cold-blooded, brutal killings Nemesis performed. No one knew what he looked like, who he was. The only peo­ple to ever see his face, never lived long enough to tell the authorities. It was rumored he had even killed his own parents when he was a young boy, just for practice.

  A large shadow fell over them.

  Kiara gulped, her gaze traveling up the hulking form dressed identically to Rachol. At least Nemesis still had his helmet on. Maybe she would live through this . . . maybe. She shook in fear.

  To her dismay, Nemesis walked past Rachol and knelt before her. His huge, gloved hand reached out to touch the burning cheek Chenz had struck. She cringed, trying to press herself into the wall behind her and turned her face away.

  He dropped his hand before making contact with her cheek.

  "She can't walk," Rachol explained.

  Nemesis nodded. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and lifted her as if she weighed nothing more than the communicator at his waist. Kiara trem­bled, wanting to be back home and not in the arms of the most dangerous being alive.

  Reaching the door, Nemesis paused and turned to face Rachol. "Kill them," he said in an electronically distorted voice.

  The nonchalant tone tore through her. What kind of being could order someone's death so callously? Not wanting to be near such a creature, she tried to squirm out of his arms. His hold tightened almost to the point of pain.

  He carried her out into the hallway to the linking station that joined the two crafts. Rachol continued down the corridor, disappearing from her sight, no doubt on his way to carry out Nemesis' brutal order.

  Kiara wanted to call Rachol back. The last thing she desired was to be left alone with this creature, but her mouth was suddenly so dry, she couldn't get even a whisper past her swollen lips.

  Once inside their shuttle, Nemesis took her into one of the back rooms which she guessed served as some sort of infirmary. Medical tools and bottles of medi­cine were carefully placed in a glass cabinet not far from a large bed. The odor of antiseptic stung her nose. Everything was pristine white and orderly, a wel­come contrast to her kidnappers' filth.

  Kiara glanced up at Nemesis, afraid he might kill her as well. But he seemed to be ignoring her, at least as much as he could, given the fact she was in his arms.

  He placed her gently on the bed, then moved to retrieve a blanket from a drawer at the bottom of the cabinet. With a kindness she would never have attrib­uted to a ruthless killer, he wrapped it around her.

  Kiara was minutely attuned to him. The light gleaned off his helmet with an eerie sheen. He seemed larger than a human, taller, stronger. She had no idea what species he belonged to, yet he had to be at least humanoid.

  She watched the play of well-defined muscles under his battlesuit as he pressed a panel next to the door and opened the closet.

  Who was this assassin? She wasn't the first to ask that question and like the others, she knew she would never know the answer.

  He turned around, holding a black battlesuit like the ones he and Rachol wore.

  Kiara could feel his eyes on her, they were almost as tangible as a touch. She thought he was about to speak, but the door opened to reveal Rachol.

  Unaware of what he had interrupted, Rachol took the battlesuit from Nemesis' hands. "I locked them in their munitions room. If they're quick, they might es­cape unscathed."

  Kiara still sensed Nemesis watching her.

  A sharp lunge told her their ship was launching away from her kidnappers' craft.

  "Are you taking me home?" she asked.

  A dreadful pause greeted her. Finally, Nemesis spoke, "Soon."

  Before she could blink her eyes, he was gone.

  * * * * *

  Nykyrian locked the door behind him. He knew Rachol's doctoring abilities well enough to guess the dancer would be sedated. An image of Kiara's body outlined by her sheer, tor
n nightgown scorched him. He could still feel her pressed against his chest.

  Forcing his mind to other thoughts, he removed his hot, sticky helmet. He freed his damp, blond hair from the tie holding it at the nape of his neck. With a tired sigh, he pulled his dark glasses from his pocket and moved to join the rest of his crew in the control room at the front of the shuttle.

  Dancer Hauk and Darling Crewell were joking with each other when he entered.

  "Rachol said we had a guest," Hauk commented to him dryly. "I hope she doesn't come out of that room and catch a sight of you without your helmet!"

  Ignoring him, Nykyrian dropped his helmet on the floor and took the pilot's chair. He ran over their set­tings, knowing there'd be no corrections. Hauk and Darling were the best.

  "Did Chenz and Petiri get away?" Nykyrian asked.

  Darling shook his head. "They're asteroid bait."

  Nykyrian nodded. Justice was served. Tomorrow Rachol would inform their employer about Chenz's death. Granted it wouldn't bring back the councilor's son, but it would ensure Chenz never decapitated an­other child.

  Putting the matter out of his thoughts, Nykyrian stared out the window at the blackness swirling around them. In the lightless void, an image of Kiara dancing in her last ballet floated before his eyes. He damned the feelings surging through him as he thought about her.

  She had always been able to stir his senses. Every time he had seen her dance, she had touched a part of his soul— a part of him he preferred to think was long dead and damned.

  If only things were different. If only he were differ­ent ...

  Nykyrian sighed. He knew better. The way she re­coiled from his touch and squirmed in his arms told him what he'd get if he even tried to speak with her.

  "Who's the woman?" Hauk finally asked, breaking Nykyrian out of his thoughts.

  "Kiara Biardi, the dancer."

  Hauk gave a low, appreciative whistle. "What was she doing with those space scabs?"

  Nykyrian shrugged. "We'll discuss that once we get back to the base and have our meeting."

  Within an hour, they began docking at their station. Rachol came from the back, reporting that Kiara was in a sedated sleep. Nykyrian replaced his helmet be­fore heading back to their patient.

  After the landing, Nykyrian carried Kiara from the ship. He took her to the upper floor of the Command Center where he charged Mira to care for her until she woke.

  Mira was thrilled to be assigned watch duty over such a famous personality. Smiling nervously at Neme­sis, she ran to her room to find sleeping attire for Kiara.

  Shaking his head at Mira's undue haste to flee his presence, Nykyrian took his precious bundle into one of the sleeping chambers and carefully placed her on the large bed. He covered her with an extra blanket.

  As he stepped away from the bed, he heard her whispering in her sleep. Entranced by her melodic voice, he turned back to take a final look at her peace­fully resting form.

  He stood over her, intoxicated by the smoothness of her features, her pert nose, the high cheekbones, her finely arched brows. Her long, dark brown hair fell in soft ringlets about her. He traced the line of her cheek, tempted to remove his glove and feel the softness he knew her flawless skin would hold.

  He sensed Mira's presence as she returned. Looking up, he saw Mira's questioning brown eyes.

  Nykyrian ached to kiss Kiara. He almost did. Only the knowledge of Mira's curious stare kept him from removing his helmet and yielding to his burning want.

  Some things were not his to feel, or experience.

  With a curt nod to Mira, he left the room.

  Nykyrian rejoined his friends downstairs, anxious to finish his business and return the dancer before she distracted him further from his obligations.

  Quickly, he led his three soldiers to their council chambers, where Jayne was already seated and waiting for them.

  The room was covered with a myriad of star charts, maps and computer terminals. Beeps and hisses filled the air as information passed through the equipment. Everything was neat, tidy and efficient, just the way he liked his life.

  Nykyrian walked to the printer nearest him and pulled off several sheets of paper.

  As he waited for his friends to remove their helmets and take their chairs, Nykyrian perused the listed items. While he studied the lines, an unbidden image of Kiara drifted before his eyes. Grinding his teeth, he forced his thoughts to business.

  Nykyrian gave the small group a cursory glance, took his seat, and placed the stack of papers before him. He turned to Rachol. "I take it the Probekeins hired Chenz and Petiri."

  Rachol nodded.

  "Send a message to Tiarun Biardi stating that I'll return his daughter. I want him to know the OMG had nothing to do with her abduction." He narrowed his eyes. "I would hate to be shot down for a good deed."

  Rachol nodded again, and made a quick note on his computer ledger. "I got the news from one of our spies that the Gouran Consulate fell apart yesterday when the Probekeins threatened to tear apart the Councilors' kids. Eight contracts were drawn up for the terminations. Six children have been found dead, including Councilor Serela's boy we saw last night. I'll make sure word gets around Chenz's death was because of his brutal murder of the kid."

  Nykyrian mentally flashed on Serela's tormented face and the sight of the poor, mutilated boy. If Kiara hadn't been aboard Chenz's ship, he would have torn the scab into pieces. "Other than Chenz, who were the others who accepted the Probekeins' contracts?"

  "Don't know," Rachol answered.

  Nykyrian rubbed his jaw. "What were the negotiations between the Probekeins and Gourans over?"

  At Rachol's negative head shake, Nykyrian scowled. "You're supposed to stay informed of all contracts for assassinations. I want you to find out the definite reasons for the killings as well as the name on the last contract and who holds it. My guess is, the murders are over the new weapon the Probekeins are building. If not, we need to know!"

  Nykyrian sat back in his chair. "You'd best inform Biardi immediately his daughter is safe. I'm sure he's about crazed over her disappearance."

  Rachol stood, moving to comply with Nykyrian's directive.

  "I think we should target Emperor Abenbi," Hauk said, watching Rachol leave. "It's time we showed the Probekeins they can't continue to frighten other governments."

  Nykyrian shook his head. "That's not our decision. We had best attend to our contracted hits. Our backlog is already too long. It'll be several weeks before we can take on any new assignments. At this point, it would have to be a major emergency for new hire."

  Jayne sighed irritably. "Why don't we expand our number?" she asked, toying with her long, black hair. "Surely out of the multitude we employ, there are a few suitable to doing the physical executions of contracts."

  Nykyrian cocked his brow. "Would you trust them at your back? The five of us are friends, have been so for years. Our loyalty to one another is without question. Are you willing to put your life at the disposal of a stranger?"

  "Not with the price on my head," Jayne answered. "I suppose you're right."

  Rachol returned. "Biardi will be expecting you," he said to Nykyrian. "He also wants a meeting with me. Funny how we're wanted criminals until they need us," Rachol mumbled, sitting down. "I think Biardi's going to propose a contact for Kiara's protection."

  Nykyrian's heart quickened. "Did you schedule a meeting?"

  "This evening."

  Hauk turned around in his chair, a smirk twisting his lips. "I thought we were too backlogged to take on anything new."

  Nykyrian shot him a venomous glare. Hauk held his hands up apologetically. Satisfied that Hauk knew better than to question him further, Nykyrian retrieved the sheets from the table and handed them out to the appropriate specialist.

  Hauk complained immediately about his schedule. "Why am I always the back-up for Darling and Jayne?" he muttered. "Especially Darling. I wish you would teach him how to breach access codes. He's da
nger­ous!"

  "Me dangerous? Last time we went out together, you set off two alarms. For a circuitry engineer, you're seriously lacking."

  "Careful human," Hauk warned, showing Darling his fangs. "I might get hungry one of these nights and decide we no longer need a Weapons Tech."

  Nykyrian shook his head at their play, knowing they were good friends, but continually harassed one an­other about their racial differences.

  Darling was from Caron, a human system. Hauk was Andarion— an advanced human, predatorial race that sometimes fed on lesser human's meat. A hybrid of the two races, Nykyrian often found himself settling their skirmishes.

  Hauk had the traditional Andarion features, an exceptionally handsome face—the Andarions valued physical beauty above everything. Hauk's long, black hair fell in a warrior's braid down his back to his waist. White irises ringed in red, stared laughingly at Darling. The long canine teeth flashed as Hauk smiled. Nykyrian was grateful his own teeth were smaller versions of Hauk's. Still, they were long enough to mark him as a bastard half-breed, especially when combined with his eyes.

  "Jayne," Nykyrian said, facing the assassin. "If you need help with your hits, I'll back you. That will free up some of Hauk's time." Jayne gave him a seductive smile. She loved the thrill of hunting and killing the corrupt. Nykyrian remembered a time past when he had shared her enthusiasm, but those days had long fled. Now, he just wanted peace and solitude.

  "The number is low this week, "Jayne said, scanning her list. "I think I could schedule an opportunity to take out Abenbi." She smiled at Hauk.

  Nykyrian shook his head. "Stick with the assigned political assassinations. I want no messages of the Probekein Emperor's murder."

  Hauk curled his lip and sat forward in his chair. "He deserves to die!"

  Nykyrian tensed at the direct confrontation. "We need solid proof before we act. When I have it, I shall gladly allow you and Jayne to have him," he compromised, unwilling to fight with one of his few true friends. He had enough enemies for that.

  Hauk retreated back into his chair.

  Nykyrian glanced around at each of them. "We haven't any missions in the near future that will require the entire group. There are some overlaps, note them and plan accordingly. Keep your links open in case of an emergency. Our next meeting is in eight days, the time is noted on your schedule. Good luck," Nykyrian finished more out of habit than necessity.