Shadow War: Book 3 of the Shadows Rising Trilogy (WIP Rough Draft)

54. A Confession. Finally.

30th of Eyrestre

Empty. No matter how rewarding the work at the Interocean Agency was, I always came back to the silence of an empty apartment. Some days that was enough. Some days it was all I could do not to stomp around screaming just in the off chance someone might hear me.

Today the silence was particularly oppressive. Looking at all the stillness, I decided that birthdays by oneself were severely overrated.

No one here knew it was my birthday. There were many, many more important things going on. I hadn't even remembered until I saw the date on the Nimkoru Dailies that morning, and I had been much more interested in the headlines at the time: "War Tribunal Concluded, War Criminals Declared Guilty!"

The only good news had been the list of those acquitted of any crimes committed while under service to the Coventry. There, right at the top, was Arramy's name. Surprisingly, it had been Marrin who pushed to get his criminal status revoked.

With a sigh, I put my work satchel down and tossed the presspaper onto the stack of others decorating my entryway table.

It unfolded where it landed, and I found myself looking at it again while I shrugged out of my jacket. A rollopress picture of NaVarre dominated the front page, showing him standing at a podium, looking handsome and intense, clearly addressing the panel of judges gathered for the Tribunal. Marrin was to his right, tall and reserved. At the bottom there was a separate article about Nox, with a detailed image of his metal face: "Mechanical Man Gives Scathing Testimony, Reveals Ghastly Human Experimentation."

Halfway down the front page of the daily was a sensationalist article entitled "Horrors from the Secret Compound" with sketches of the remains of the Coventry headquarters and several other buildings. The sketches were poorly executed and badly reproduced, but they were clear enough to send a twist of revulsion through my stomach.

I heaved a sigh. At least the weather was fine. In Edon, my birthday had always involved snow. Here in NimK it was well into spring, with pink buds beginning to open on the shrubs in front of my flat.

Gathering my shopping, I went on into the kitchen, leaving the top of the half door open to let in the breeze.

I was putting the kettle on for tea when something made me pause, the sensation of being watched brushing cool fingers down my spine. I knew that feeling, that certainty that someone was observing me, but always, no matter how quickly I turned to look, I found nothing ominous or out of place. Doc had said that response would fade with time, and it wasn't as bad as it had been in the months after the Paradazh, but it still hung around, teasing my senses like the phantom strands of a cobweb. For some reason it had gotten worse, lately.

Maybe it was all the news from the War Tribunals, dredging up things I would rather keep buried.

"It's been six months," I muttered, and took the tea canister down from its shelf. "No one's coming to kill you now..."

The compulsion to look was proving annoyingly insistent, this time. I lowered the tea slowly to the counter, then took a breath. Someday, maybe, I would be able to just relax and have a normal day, and not feel the need to check my shadow.

But I turned anyway.

My heart skipped several painful beats.

Arramy was standing there on the doorstep.

For several moments I stood there, staring at him through the open half-door, unable to think. Unable to breathe. Unable to do more than drink him in. He had shaved recently, and his hair was cut short at the sides in the neat military close-crop he favored. He was simply dressed, wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a dark leather vest over a pair of grey denims. He was also holding a rather large bouquet of yellow roses, and that silver gaze was riveted on me in a way that made my pulse thump painfully against my ribs.