I commissioned this gorgeous piece from the ultra-talented Hyanide Art! It’s based on a scene late in Wakefire. I’m thrilled with how great it came out!
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I’ll share an excerpt from the scene below the cut!
Khatien was teasing that Emry would be glad for any excuse to get out of school when Corvin stiffened. Ror’s attention snapped to him. Nothing had changed in the room and he wasn’t looking at a comm or d-lay, which meant he must have a neuro-comm.
“We have to cut this short,” Corvin said, forced calm lending a hint of tension to his voice.
A muffled shout made it through the door from the hallway.
Corvin pulled a firearm from an ankle holster hidden under his pants and stood. The guard opposite Ror pulled his sidearm, moved around Corvin, and positioned himself against the wall beside the door, weapon slightly raised.
Vapor curled under the door and Corvin grunted, tearing his jacket off and kneeling to press it into the crack.
He didn’t make it that far. He collapsed to the side and the jacket slipped from his fingers.
“Don’t breathe it in!” Ror signed and spoke the warning, then lifted the collar of his shirt over his nose.
The guard went next, sliding down the wall until gravity took full hold of him and he landed with a heavy thud.
Ror grabbed Khatien’s shoulder with his free hand and backed him up against the far wall. It wasn’t enough. His hand slid down Khatien’s chest and he was so far away, and he felt himself falling but couldn’t stop it.
His eyes closed.
And then Ror came to violently, jerking his hands toward the searing sensation in his nose only to discover that his wrists were cuffed. Risky knelt before him, and to the side Yuri leaned over Khatien, who looked as startled and confused as Ror felt.
“Get up,” Risky ordered. “We’re leaving.”
“Why am I cuffed?” And Khatien was cuffed too. Which meant no signing. Shit.
“Because I don’t trust you.” She wasn’t in the green detention clothes anymore; it looked like she’d changed into a Druseval Police uniform. “You have until we meet up with our point pair to convince me you don’t need them. Now. Get. Up.”
Ror stagger-stepped to his feet, whatever gas they’d used hitting his equilibrium hard. Modified sweetsleep? Beside him, Khatien lurched upright and sought his eyes with a wild stare. It took a second to recognize it, but through the limited mobility provided by the cuffs, he was signing an approximation of, “What’s happening?”
“Leave Khatien,” Ror said. The words came almost of their own volition.
Risky yanked his elbow and shoved him toward the door. “You know that’s not happening.”
Ror took a long stride to avoid stepping on Corvin’s unconscious form. What he wouldn’t give to have the neuro-comm back, to be able to address Khatien’s panic even if he couldn’t actually help. On his way out the door, he managed a clumsy semblance of, “Taking us, won’t leave you.”
Seris waited in the hallway with one of the Smoke Two agents, each holding a firearm in ready stance. There was an unconscious cop in the hall who’d been stripped of her coat and sidearm. Seris glanced at Ror’s cuffs with concern clear on her face; Ror wanted to explain all she’d missed, but that wasn’t an option right now.
Khatien stumbled into the hallway behind him. Gods, he was so close to maybe getting out of this mess; Ror could return to Ryesh, face the consequences of defying Risky in the cavern, but Khatien deserved his freedom.
And Corvin’s insinuations during his individual interrogation dug into Ror’s brain: he was an Aug now, and a unique one for having gained this weird healing ability instead of being born with it. Ryesh would dissect him, pull him apart, to try to figure out what had caused that change.
It was what Khatien was afraid they would use him for. He’d said as much to Zekiah. And if Ror had learned nothing else in the last few weeks, it was that the SIA was capable of far worse than he’d ever acknowledged.
Ror walked almost blindly where Risky prodded him. They broke from the familiar hallway between the holding cells and the exam room and turned toward what he assumed had to lead to an exit. “Risky. Leave Khatien,” he tried again, slowing his steps. “He doesn’t know any more than they already do. They’re promising him asylum; let him go.”
But Risky scoffed and shoved his shoulder to propel him forward. “You take their offer of asylum, too? Yeah, I figured. I don’t know what you’ve told them or if they just want you for this new healing thing, but it doesn’t matter. We’ll sort all that out back home.”
She wasn’t wrong. Corvin was manipulative; he could have hinted at the idea that Ryesh would be interested in his new ability to distract from the fact that Esharin wanted him for the same reason. But then, Risky was trying to distract him too.
Ror caught Khatien’s eye and signed as best he could: “Want escape, now is time.”
“Stop that,” Yuri ordered, cracking his forearm against Ror’s to push his hands away. But Ror kept his attention on Khatien, who watched him with a panicked question furrowing his brow.
There wasn’t much Ror could do to help. He exchanged a glance with Seris, trying to communicate without words. She studied his face and ducked her chin slightly, but the hint of confusion in her expression didn’t inspire confidence.
Ahead, the Smoke Team agent turned a corner. Ror signaled to Khatien as discreetly as he could to back up, though he wasn’t sure how much he’d be able to with Yuri at his elbow. But maybe if would be enough if…
Ror rammed his shoulder into Yuri just as he was about to turn the corner, and Khatien pulled back, yanking his arm from Yuri’s slackened grip. Risky cried out and raised her firearm, but Ror transferred his momentum toward her and swung his arms, knocking her hands aside. She didn’t fire, but when Ror straightened there were three weapons trained on him. Four once Risky recovered.
“Let me be clear,” Risky said, her breathing quickened. “We can’t leave you in Esharian control alive, and we’re running out of time to make a clean break. If you fight, I will kill you.”