LEGACY CHILD

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

            Abriel wasn't aware the lowboy had stopped until she felt a cloth pressed to her eyes and runny nose, wiping up the mess. When she did open her eyes, she saw the stranger crouched over her, face unreadable. It wasn't hard or cruel. Just blank, as if he'd spent a lifetime hiding whatever he thought or felt.

            "I'm sorry about your animal," he said in that deep, gravel-soaked voice. He helped her sit, easing her to the seat's edge so her booted feet were on the ground, half leaning out of the lowboy. He crouched a few feet away, out of reach, as if afraid she might kick him. Not that she had the strength or will to attack him. A slight breeze blew across her face, drying her cheeks.

            "What happened back there was not the initial plan," he continued.

            She liked the fact he hadn't called Keko a dog. Keko would have too.

            With only a sliver of curiosity, she asked, "What was the plan?"

            "Your animal was native and there are some very interested in collecting native species. The others with me were supposed to bag him. It was my job to assassinate you."

            His delivery was so matter-of-fact, she didn't even shiver at the mention of her own death. "Why didn't you?"

            "Let's just say Danais and I had a falling out, and I quit."

            She had enough sense to do a little mental juggling and work out the implications.

            "You're Gris," she said. "Porter is going to kill you when he finds you."

            Then her breath caught and she was all but hyperventilating. Where was Porter now? Was he even alive? And without Keko...Had he been pulled into the maelstrom of Keko's passing? He wouldn't die himself, but experiencing Keko's death was almost as good as feeling his own. Tougher people than him had been brought low. With a shepherd's life span of twenty years at best, a scout could conceivably pair with more than one during their career. Coping strategies existed to handle separation—even violent ones—and she'd been spared the worst of the trauma thanks to the drugs. But Porter wouldn't have had any protection, or been prepared for the fallout. His mind could be broken, or worse.

             "I need to find him," she whispered. "He's going to need help getting through what happened. We were..." How could she explain this to someone who couldn't possibly understand? Honestly, she didn't want to explain anything, but she needed this man to understand how critical it was for Porter to get help. "We were mentally bonded through my shepherd. He's going to be in a bad way without someone to help him through."

            Gris shook his head. "We can't go back. Right now, we're both wanted criminals. If we set foot in Hope City, we'll be arrested on sight. Porter will have to take his chances on his own. Luckily, he's too powerful for Danais to get at except through the most obvious channels, which makes him safe for now. You need to worry about yourself."

            "What if I don't feel like worrying or listening to you?"

            "If you want to save Porter and your people, then you'd better to both."

            In a tone she knew made moleboys tremble, she demanded, "Explain yourself."

            "I'm taking you back."

            "Back?"

            "We're on the road to Shamir. I know who you are, where you're from, and I can guess at what Porter wanted to accomplish. I also know we're not free of Danais. I don't know that bastard's plans, but I do know saving lost colonists isn't on his agenda. You need to warn your people as to what's coming before he puts his own plans into motion."