Claire shot to the side, rol ing out of the claws' way, and strained. Bloody spray shot out of wounds on her side, expel ing the poison with it. She sealed the wound.
The beast turned his head and stalked after her, the huge paws raising tiny puffs of dust from the rocky surface of the spire.
They leaped at once, flying at each other. His claws raked her side in a searing rush of pain. She bit his neck, ripping through the coils of tight muscle, but his flesh was too thick to reach bone and she withdrew.
Venturo's blood burned on her tongue.
She had to make it to the bridge. It was her only chance. She couldn't bring herself to kil him.
Dark blood poured from the wound on Venturo's neck, wetting the bronze fur. He took a precious second to seal the gash.
Claire concentrated. She shuddered and split herself, throwing four copies of herself three to the right and one to the left. Five identical scarlet cats snarled in unison.
Venturo took a step back.
Her copies rushed him and Claire jumped over him, throwing all her speed into a desperate leap.
The triple tail whipped around her, squeezing her like a noose. He'd seen through the phantoms.
She shot her back whiskers into his ribcage, turning them into hard spears in mid-strike. He snarled in pain and she slapped her own tail to slice at his face, trying to skewer him with the spike. He hurled her back. She flew through the air and smashed into the jutting rock wal . Her ribs cracked. The impact shook her vision into a haze.
Claire jumped to her feet and leaped right, left, jumping like a lunatic rabbit to avoid being hit. Her vision cleared and she saw his gaping maw diving down. Claire slapped his face with her paw, her claws raking four deep gouges on his cheek. The blow knocked him aside. He jerked back and they snarled at each other, face to face.
Fire shot from Venturo's eyes, dashed down his fur, and he stood before her engulfed in flames.
The Element Weaponry. The pinnacle of the psycher bionet training. If she had time, she would have bowed in appreciation.
He advanced toward her, menacing, flames swirling around him. She feigned fear and backed away.
A step.
Another.
She would not get another chance. This was her very last one.
Her hind paw found air. She was to the edge of the spire.
Venturo leaned forward, the fire roaring around him.
If he was fire, she would be ice.
Glacial mist shot from her. Claire charged into the depth of the inferno. His fire licked her ice barrier.
They col ided.
Claire let go, emptying every last reserve. Spears of ice shot from her, locking him into blocks of ice. She saw his enraged eyes before the ice swal owed him whole.
Claire ran. She ran like she had never before ran in her life, swal owing distance in hungry gulps. She tore through jungle, ignoring branches and thorns tearing at her hide.
Her mind fired brisk, calm commands, sending the signals down the established links to her team.
"Disconnect. Mission complete. Disconnect now."
A roar of pure rage shook the jungle. Ven had broken through the ice. Mere five seconds, maybe less. It had to be some sort of a record.
She had no way of knowing if her team made the hub, so she just kept broadcasting. "Mission complete.
Incoming threat. Disconnect."
Her mind shuddered under the strain. Her legs began to cramp. Every breath was a fire exploding in her lungs. Up the mountain, up, up, up.
She whirled at the mountain top and dared a single look back. A fiery glow was making its way through the canopy below. He was close. Claire ran.
The world began to fade. Darkness encroached. She was running too fast.
Venturo's furious growl shook the leaves behind her.
Claire burst into the hub clearing. Charles-Bul ran in a circle around the hub fountain, chased by an AI dog.
"I'm the last!" he cried out.
"Disconnect," she commanded.
The AI beast leaped at her, and she crushed its spine with one impatient snap of her teeth.
The bul vanished, exploding into dark ribbons.
Venturo shot into the clearing.
She let go of the bionet, hurling up the tunnel into the hotel room. A long shuddering moan ripped from her lips, and Claire took her first breath.
The reality of the hotel room slammed into her. She sat up and pul ed the unit off her head.
Mittali lay on her back next to her, wincing as Tonya rubbed her feet. Charles was breathing hard, as if he'd carried a sack of rocks up a mountain. Zinaida smiled at her. Saim waved. In the corner Kosta sat in a clump, dark head hung down.
Everyone got out alive.
The medic stood by the hub, a glass vial in his hand.
Acid, she guessed. "Dump it."
The medic poured the acid into the liquid interface.
The liquid hissed as synthetic neurons boiled into nothing.
"Are you alright, Kosta?" she asked him.
"He got careless," Saim said. "He was bitten."
"May I?"
Kosta nodded.
Claire swept over his mind. The lesion was smal , but his mind glowed with the imprint of the AI's teeth.
"It will be alright," she said. "Just stay off the bionet for about a month."
He nodded.
"I saw him," Charles said, his voice fil ed with wonder.
"I saw him. Was that a psycher?"
"Yes," she told him.
"It's a miracle we're alive," he said. "You are that miracle."
She shook her head. "You've had no experience and no weapons. You've made it possible."
"We should drink," Saim said.
"Yes. Yes, that's a great idea," Mittali rol ed to her feet.
"Ow. As soon as I can walk."
"Don't worry," Saim told her. "Tel me what you want, and I'll bring it to you."
Doreem Nagi rose off his chair and walked over to Claire.
"It is done," she told him softly. "Your grandson should be safe."
The old man bowed to her.
Chapter Six
Claire walked down the hal way toward Venturo's office. The shel over her mind was paper-thin. Accreting it took time, and she barely had thirty-six hours to recuperate.
Saturday night, after she'd returned to her apartment, she pul ed the ingredients out of the refrigerator and continued her aborted cooking attempt, convinced that every moment Security Forces led by Venturo Eskala would barge through her door. She'd finished the Dahlia Three-Color Stir-Fry and ate it. It wasn't as good as she had hoped, but it wasn't at all bad. Considering the bland food on which she grew up, her taste buds probably needed a lot of education to fine tune her palate. Or perhaps the anxiety that made her jump at every stray noise interfered with her ability to enjoy the meal.
Claire had taken a long, luxurious bath and, exhausted, fell asleep in the bathtub. She dreamed of Venturo, of his green eyes, of his bronze skin, of wanting to kiss him. Her dream-addled imagination conjured the taste of his mouth, the feel of his hands on her body as he stroked her, the weight of his muscular body pressing on top off her. She awoke to a cold bath.
He was as powerful as she had expected and more.
When she thought about their fight, the tiny hairs on the back of her neck stood up.
When she final y crawled into bed, she realized that she had gotten away with it.
He would never find out who she truly was. She curled into a tight bal and lay there for hours, her thoughts too loud, the phantom images of Venturo sliding back and forth across her memory.
Now it was Monday. She was once again the calm, col ected Claire. She walked to her office, a comfortable nook on the side of Venturo's glass cage. Today the glass was opaque, frosted with white by a privacy switch. Ven didn't want to be disturbed. Just as well.
She barely had a chance to put down her bag, when Lienne approached the office, marching down the hal way.
The older woman nodded at her. "Claire, about the Berruto analysis. I know it was last minute, so if you want to take a few days, it will be fine."
Claire flicked the stylus across the digital screen projected onto her desk and smiled. "It's in your inbox."
Lienne glanced at her tablet. "So it is. Thank you."
"You're welcome."
The older woman regarded her for a long second and rapped her knuckles on opaque door. The frost melted from the glass. Ven sat inside. He was wearing a bionet suit.
Dark circles clutched at his eyes.
Claire forced herself to sit down at her desk and look busy.
Lienne stepped inside the office and crossed her arms. Her mind sent a focused thought.
"Rolando said you and Claire had an intimate dinner in the Roof Garden on Friday."
Ven grimaced. "Rolando needs to keep his mouth shut."
"I've warned you about this, Ven."
His face looked grim.
"I'd gone to see Sangori. Claire insisted on coming with me, because apparently I 'shouldn't go alone.'"
"You shouldn't have."
"I ran into Castil a, Lim, and Pelori. Pelori locked Claire in front of a lobby ful of witnesses. She didn't scream. Didn't panic. When I forced him to let go, she landed on her feet and asked if she should alert the authorities. No shaking in the voice. Nothing. She made us look strong and competent. She singlehandedly restored my standing in the community and she doesn't even realize it."
"I know all that." Lienne waved her hand. "The story is making the rounds."
Ven looked up and his eyes betrayed anger. "Then why in the world are you badgering me about serving her dinner? Should I have sent her home and then be notified that her mind developed a lesion and her brains leaked out of her ears?"
Lienne leaned forward, resting her knuckles on his desk. "That's not what that dinner was and you know it. You cooked for her, Ven. You served her pink wine. You were up there for two hours. The only thing missing from this romantic rendezvous were the passion cones and only because the kitchen didn't have any."
Ven leaned back in his chair and sighed.
"There are things that aren't appropriate between the owner of a business and an employee."
