It was midnight, the hour of the kill, and the halls of the Labyrinth had fallen into their usual silence; thus it was with regret that Zylander Nighthawk sat up in bed and moved to kiss the woman beside him. "Love you."
"I know." Angela Featherstorm sat up too, and kissed him back, running her fingers through the raptrin's sandy hair. "I love you too...Landy."
It was a nickname she'd given him in childhood, and it made him smile. "Angel. My Angel." He gathered her close. "Tell me you don't have to go."
Angela shifted against him, her expression of fulfilled pleasure giving way to one of worry. "But I do, love. You know I do. If Talon found me here...."
She stopped abruptly, and the mention of her husband made him squeeze her tighter. She tried to ease away, to get up, but Zylander's hold kept her from moving. Angela turned to protest; but one look into his warm gold eyes, seeing his despair, his need, and her heart melted.
"I think," she sighed, "that I can stay a little longer."
For Talon Featherstorm, the sharp rap on his office door was a welcome diversion from his night's paperwork. He shoved the pile briskly to one side. "Yes."
The woman who slunk in was a raptrin, pale-feathered and green-eyed, her voluptuous figure scarcely restrained by the snug too-short red dress she wore; and Talon, seeing her, felt his initial pleasure at being interrupted turn to a sort of sour dismay. "Oh, it's you, Tetra. I see you're going to be a blonde this week."
It was true. Tetra Rainfeather's hair, normally a lustrous deep red, was now a rather brassy golden blonde. Talon secretly thought it suited her, but he knew better than to say so; and anyway, Tetra had other things on her mind.
"Do you know where your wife is?" she rasped.
He gave her only the briefest of glances before he returned to his work. The older Talon got, the more he resented his ex-mentor's far-reaching influences. "I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
Tetra practically purred. "Let me just say that a certain raptrin knows her whereabouts."
"Shame on you, Tetra. I thought you liked your own kind." Personally Talon didn't care who his wife slept with, as long as she didn't interfere in his business; he'd gotten what he wanted from her years ago, with the birth of their twins. But Tetra's sense of propriety had to be appeased. "You're sure she's with Nighthawk?"
"Positive." Tetra perched delicately on the corner of his desk. "I saw her leave his quarters—Talon, you can't coddle that faithless little bitch any longer! You know Nighthawk's talked her into leaving."
No; that was news to Talon; and for the first time all night the red-feathered drake felt the beginnings of anger. "My wife. Nighthawk can do as he damn pleases—but my wife—" He scowled. "I suppose she's going along with it."
"Yes." Tetra had to hide a smile; this was going perfectly. "She'd take the children, of course."
"Of course." For years Talon had dismissed his wife's talk of leaving the Ring as so much empty-headed prattle, but his children—his son—his son who would someday rule in his stead—
He stood up abruptly. "You know what has to be done. Take care of it."
"No, Talon." Tetra, too, got to her feet. "A man does his own work. You take care of Nighthawk, and I—"
"No." He smiled and it was ghastly. "No. I'll take care of Nighthawk. You get my children. Distract them. And as for Angela—" His smile deepened. "I'll give her a lesson, for now. Let's see how well she learns it."
Someday. Zylander moved about, tidying his lab, fighting off a headache. Someday we'll be free of this hellhole, Angel and I, and we can be together—really together, not just this sham that we've got now—
"Nighthawk."
Zylander turned, and stared into the face of Talon Featherstorm. "What—oh, it's you, Talon. You startled me...."
He trailed off as the drake came closer, his expression menacing. "Talon, is something wrong?"
The crimson-feathered drake only grinned. "You might say."
By the time Zylander saw the blade, it was too late.
"The twins?" Angela leaned in the doorway, a hand to her forehead, still fuzzy-minded after the night's earlier pleasures. "Tetra, they're asleep, I really think—"
"Never mind what you think," the blonde raptrin snapped; then her tone became softer, coaxing. "I'm sorry. It's just that Talon asked me to fetch them for a training session."
She smiled darkly. "He wants to be alone with you. You need to talk."
Rain silvered the windows, and thunder rumbled low and distant. There would be a storm before morning—but then, it was already morning.
It was with a groan that Eliot Landsfeather—the Ring's Armourer, known as Nightshade to most of his colleagues—rolled the sheaf of plans back up and began to rub his temples. "God."
From the bed his lover said drowsily, "That bad, Shade?"
"Oh, it's nothing really." Shade flicked the desk light off but didn't get up. "Talon and I spent three hours this afternoon going over the specs for the new armor he's wanting, and I was just fiddling with some of the changes."
Bane Darkplume slipped out of bed and moved behind the big drake and began to rub his shoulders. "I guess he still wants us to start in the morning?"
"Yeah." Nightshade suppressed another groan as Bane's slim clever fingers worked the tension from his muscles. "But I won't be able to start a thing if I don't get rid of this headache."
Bane chuckled, then bent forward and pressed a soft kiss to his lover's nape. "I keep telling you, you work too hard." Another kiss, this time hinting at other things. "Look. If it's that bad go down and get Zylander to give you something—then come to bed, all right? I'm freezing."
The walk to the infirmary seemed longer than usual, each step that Nightshade took causing his head to throb a little more. He hoped, for once, that Zylander would give him something stronger than aspirin—he and Bane had been so busy with their work lately that the private side of their relationship was being too much neglected....
Nightshade stopped short in front of the infirmary doors. He could hear an indistinct muttering within, and through the ground-glass panes he could just discern the silhouette of Talon Featherstorm.
But he saw no sign of Zylander Nighthawk; and the big drake started to worry. It was obvious from the sound of Talon's one-sided discourse that he was displeased. He never liked to be kept waiting—where was Zylander?
Nightshade's stomach lurched painfully. Surely he wasn't with Angela....?
He drew a deep breath and quietly pushed the doors open.
His initial view of Talon was obscured by one of the long steel tables that filled the room, but the red-feathered drake had his back to the door, and seemed to be engrossed in studying something at his feet.
Shade frowned; and in the softest whisper he could muster, said, "Talon."
Talon whirled, half-stumbling. He looked down at the floor again, but then looked up, the faintest of smiles creasing his beak. "Landsfeather. What brings you here?"
There was just a hint of edge to his voice, but Nightshade chose to ignore it as he threaded his way through the tables. "I was hoping for a word with Zylander...have you seen him yet?"
"Seen him!" Talon howled with laughter. "My good man, he's right here."
"Right—" Shade broke the word off and dashed to Talon's side—but the sight at his feet, the bloodied body of a raptrin, brought him up short.
"You...." He could barely get it out. "You did this."
Talon smiled again, wickedly. "You see what happens to those who get in my way."
"Get in your way...." Nightshade stopped. The gleam in Talon's black eyes was all too unhealthy. "You're out of your mind!"
"I assure you I'm very much in it," Talon snapped. "Careful you don't make the same mistake, Landsfeather. Now get out."
Nightshade backed up a step, his mind working furiously. He's mad. Of course he's mad. And I've got to stop him—
He made as if to turn away, then snatched his saber from his belt—just as Talon lunged, and caught him round the chest, and brought them both crashing to the floor.
Dammit, Shade....
Bane had dozed fitfully, waiting for Nightshade's return. But he was awake now, and the clock told him that half an hour had passed, and he was still alone.
The blond drake got out of bed groggily, shook himself into some semblance of wakefulness and began to dress. He had no doubts as to his lover's delay; Bane knew from personal experience that it was practically impossible to get away from the Ring's doctor once you started talking to him. Zylander could jaw with the best of them.
But Bane had other things on his mind—particularly, slow exquisite things that necessitated the interruption of Nightshade's conversational niceties.
On the way down the hall he passed Talon's quarters, and it crossed his mind that Shade might be here. Talon kept late hours, and Shade might have wanted another word with him, or vice versa—well, Bane told himself as he knocked on the door and it slid open, I’m here, I might as well ask.
The front room was dark—it seemed the whole suite was dark.
"Talon?" Bane called, but got no answer. There was a shift of movement in the middle of the floor, though, and it got his attention.
"Angela? Have you seen—Angela!"
She had come to him, and in the spill of hallway light he saw that her face was puffy, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. Blood trickled in a thin sluggish line from her left nostril and the corner of her mouth, and she swayed, even though she stood still.
Bane's annoyance with his lover was forgotten. "Angela, dear God, what happened?"
"He knows." Her voice was thick and broken. "About me and Landy—Talon knows."
"How—" Bane began; but he bit off the question and instead gathered Angela into his arms; she'd started to cry again. How the hell does Talon know anything? Tetra. "Where is he now? Where are your children?"
She sniffled, backed away from him. "Talon's gone. I don't know where. Tetra took the kids out for a training exercise."
"How convenient." Unease was beginning to gnaw at the pit of Bane's stomach. "What about Zylander? Does he know that Talon—"
"Bane!" She all but shrieked it at him. "You don't think Talon would—would—"
"I don't put anything past Talon," Bane told her. "That's why I came here, Sh—" He stopped; Angela was the one person in the Ring who didn't call his lover Nightshade. "Eliot went down to the Infirmary half an hour ago, to get something...."
He trailed off, his sense of foreboding suddenly doubling.
"Come on, Angela," he said. "Clean yourself up and come on. Something's wrong."
He kept her close as he guided her through the halls to the infirmary. Talon might be gone, but that didn't mean Tetra wasn't somewhere watching; Bane had dealt with her before.
The double doors were ajar, the interior lit as usual. But it was quiet within, and the quiet worried Bane; Zylander had been known to talk to himself, if no one else was handy, so either he and Nightshade were elsewhere, or....
Bane pushed the or out of his mind and opened the doors. "Shade? Zylander?"
No answer. He headed for the storage room at the back, thinking Angela was at his heels.
Until she started screaming.
Bane turned. His heart did a double flip and sank.
Zylander Nighthawk lay on the floor in a large pool of half-clotted blood. His body was slashed, his head all but severed; if it hadn't been for his ever-present lab coat—once white, now sodden crimson—Bane wouldn't have recognized him. "Oh, God. Oh no."
Angela sank to her knees over her lover's body, keening her grief, unmindful of the blood.
Bane started to take her elbows, pull her to her feet. "Angela...."
"Bane."
It was no more than a cough, that sound. But Bane spun round abruptly, recognizing Nightshade's voice; and at the door to the storage room, on the floor, he found its source.
"Oh, God, Shade—"
Talon had had the mercy—if it was Talon's work—to at least kill Zylander outright. But he'd hamstrung Nightshade, stabbed the big drake through the lungs and left him to choke on his own blood; and the rattle in Shade's voice told Bane it wouldn't be long.
"Shade—Shade, love—" Bane knew he was babbling, but he no longer cared.
"Talon." Nightshade was too far gone now to even raise his head, and his words were breathy and slow. "It was...Talon...killed...Zylander. Tried to...to stop him. Too late."
"Hush." Bane's vision blurred suddenly; but not till he felt tears spilling down his face did he realize why. "Hush."
"Bane." Nightshade was suddenly wild-eyed. "Oh, God, I hurt...." His body spasmed suddenly, went limp.
Bane fell forward with a strangled cry. "Shade!"
The drake's eyes had closed. Now they fluttered open.
"Love you," Nightshade said; and then there was nothing else to say.
"No!" Bane reeled backward, suddenly on his feet again. "Nooo...."
A hand caught at him, turned him round; it was Angela, who somehow had dragged herself upright. She held out her arms.
Bane fell against her and burst into tears again, and for a long time they held each other.
"No." Angela struggled against Bane's attempts to get her out the door. "I won't leave him."
"Angela, we can't do anything for them now." Bane wiped half-heartedly at his eyes. "And you've got to get back to your quarters—Talon could be looking for you."
The mention of her husband's name made the duck stiffen with fear. Mutely she let Bane lead her back to her apartment.
He left her at the door. "Look, as soon as your kids come home, promise me you'll take them and get the hell out of here."
Angela nodded, but said nothing. She was curiously wooden now, dead-eyed.
"Angela!" Bane took her by the shoulders and shook her. "Promise me! Promise me you'll take them away."
"All right. I promise. We'll go." She seemed to be looking at him from a great distance. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to find Talon."
Angela had said he was out. Well. If anyone knew where Talon was....
Bane threw the office door open with a bang. "Tetra."
The raptrin looked up from behind the desk, her expression suddenly petulant, pouting. "You could knock, Darkplume."
"Where's Talon?"
"I really don't see—"
In two strides he'd crossed the room. He took her by the chin, lifted her from the chair. "Where's Talon?"
Tetra pulled herself from Bane's grasp, scrambled around the desk. "You're not going to come in here and manhandle me—"
She drew her saber; Bane knocked it aside, his vision filming with red, and grabbed Tetra by the throat.
He slammed her into the wall. Something in her chest popped. "Where. Is. He. Bitch."
He let her go, and she sank to the floor. Blood leaked from her nostrils, rimed the edges of her beak, but she was very much alive; the eyes that looked up at him were dazed and fearful.
Her mouth worked, and at last she said, "DuCaine City. Gramercy Park."
The blond drake regarded her coldly. "Good," he said, and walked out.
When Talon walked into the office five minutes later, Tetra was on her feet. She'd set the wastebasket on top of the desk and was spitting blood into it.
"You should have taken care of Darkplume too," she managed after a moment. "He's vicious. I think he cracked one of my ribs."
"He certainly didn't do anything for your looks," Talon snapped. "Never mind that, he'll get his chance. Did you tell him I was in Gramercy Park, like we agreed?"
"Yes." She gagged and spat again. "What do you want me to do now?"
"Fix yourself up. You're disgusting me." But Talon was smiling, suddenly affable. "Now that Darkplume's out of the way," he said, "we can proceed to the next phase of our plan."
The red-feathered drake's smile widened. "Keep an eye on Angela. I'm not nearly done with her."