Blaedergil's Host by C.M. Simpson (reading well .TXT) 📕

my eyes on Mack’s face. Everything rested on what he did next. Me? I figured I’d sassed myself into an early grave if Mack went and got himself killed—and maybe even if he didn’t. The idiot lord at the end of the table had a very short fuse.

When neither of us had moved for what felt like a long and overly full minute, the lord flicked his hand. I watched as Mack’s suddenly close companions released him, and returned to their positions by the wall, didn’t need to be told that mine had done the same.

Mack turned his head, looking behind him at the men along the wall, and then he made a display of scanning those standing behind me—and then he pushed his chair back from the table.

“This negotiation is over,” he said, and I followed his lead.

I felt the movement behind me, and had picked up my chair and turned, using a two-handed swing to side-swipe one of the approaching guards. It was a pity we were outnumbered. I finished one sweep, and reversed the swing, but I knew I’d stepped into the path of the next man along—and things were about to get nasty.

I ducked my head in time to avoid the first punch coming towards it, and then I used my shoulder and hip to push him back. By that time, of course, I was well within the arc of his arms. I reversed direction, and slid the chair between us, but his partner was already coming alongside, and he knew how to use the stun baton he was holding. I’d forgotten there were six of them—and wondered what strange and vicious dance Mack was leading me into.

As if on cue his voice sounded inside my head.

Aaand stop.

It was just a darn shame, no one conveyed that order to the oncoming guard. He bounced three good hits off my right side, while the guard who’d been closing from the left made the same pattern down my left side. Talk about letting sparks fly.

The table hit me behind the thighs and I sat down on it. I watched as the guards closed, saw their arms go back as they raised their batons, and flinched as a sharp whistle split the air. It was hard to resist following their gaze as they snapped their heads towards their boss, but Mack had taught me better than that. I might lose to him on the mats, but I’d learned not to take my eyes off him, or any other opponent, for a second.

“Stand down!”

I jerked to a stop, just as I launched myself at the guy standing in front of me. Forward momentum is a sonuvabitch, and I still ended up crashing into him. I held onto the punch, even as I was grabbed out of the air, and set firmly back onto my feet. The guard was not impressed.

“Sit,” he said, turning me about, and I looked for Mack.

He was already sitting, and the six guards at his back weren’t looking happy. They were also down a man, and one of those remaining was nursing a black eye and rapidly purpling cheek. When he saw he had my attention, Mack waved me towards my seat. Once he’d seen me seated, he looked towards the lordling standing at the end of the table.

“So,” he said. “What was it you wanted to hire us for?”

What happened next was entirely unexpected. I saw the lordling flick a glance in my direction, and nod, heard an almost simultaneous schick of metal, and found I had a guard kneeling beside me.

Which, of course, was not the worst of it.

Blood bubbled into my throat, and pain burned in my chest.

Mack? I was screaming, but no sound was coming out. I was sucking air, and getting nothing but blood.

“How about her life?”

Mack didn’t hesitate.

“Done,” he said, and only I knew it was a lie.

I was so fucking sick of dying.

10—Hangover

Mack was pacing outside the regen tank when I came round. I reached out to him using the implant.

“Let’s not do that, again,” I said, but nothing escaped my head.

He looked towards me, but I drifted out, again. Everything still hurt, and I sure as shit hoped they didn’t want this job to happen anytime soon. Mack was still there, and still pacing, when I came back on-line.

“Mack?” But, again, nothing left my head.

This time, he noticed me. I watched, as he looked towards me, and then frowned, and I waited until he realized I couldn’t hear whatever it was he was trying to send. I kept watching as he turned towards the door, and punched the intercom beside it.

And then I started laughing, as the intercom disintegrated beneath his fist.

For once, I didn’t hurt. It had been a while since that had been the case.

Mack bent his head and leant against the wall. He was still standing there, when the door slid open, and the young lord stepped into the room, accompanied by a medical team. They took one look at me, and another at Mack and the shattered intercom, and then set about getting me out of the tank. The whole after-process was a lot quicker if you didn’t have to do it on your own.

I was given a change of clothes, and combat gear similar to what I’d been wearing when we’d first arrived at the park, but of much better quality. Mack turned away from the wall, and found a seat beside the doctor’s table in the corner. He plonked himself into it, and rested his head in his hands, and not a single medic tried to move him. It was worrying to see him so wrung out—especially as we had a mission to run. I went over to stand beside him, as soon as I was dressed, and I completely ignored the lordling as I did so.

“Mack?” I asked, but my voice didn’t come out the way I intended, and I cleared my throat. “Mack?”

When he still didn’t respond, I knelt beside