TRANCE, Inc. 19

Once we got through the wall of trees and I could see his home clearly, my eyes widened. So this is what you get for being the world's biggest bag of dicks, I thought. There was something screwed up about that.

The building wasn't the biggest mansion I'd ever seen, but it expanded languidly outward and gave the impression of self-indulgence. It had the kind of classy older style that made me feel like the home might have been here for a long time, sitting on the hillside and looking out over the trees beneath it, surveying the land below. The driveway swooped up into a circular turnaround in front of the main entrance, which was well-lit by several old-timey streetlamps.

As soon as the front door was in sight, Terra stopped and pulled me off to the side in the trees. A chill breeze rustled the leaves above us, and the woman's fingers were cold around my wrist. She stared into my face with those dark, ember-lit eyes of hers.

"Stay here," she ordered. "I will go ahead quickly to scout."

My eyebrows came together. "But—" I started to protest.

Terra squeezed my wrist in her icy grip. "I know that you are angry. And you will have your retribution. But this is your first hunt. You are still inexperienced. Let me make sure the way is clear."

"Inexperienced at breaking into people's houses to fucking assault them?" I hissed. I could feel the cool air on my skin but felt the flush of adrenaline in my body. "Obviously! Shouldn't everyone be inexperienced?"

The woman gave me a stony look.

"Fine," I said. I scowled. Sure, maybe I didn't know what I was doing. But it was my family that was at risk, damnit.

Terra relented a little, and dropped her hand from my forearm. "I would not want something to happen to you," she said quietly. For a moment, her accent seemed a little stronger. "That is all."

I thought I caught a flicker of something else in her face, but it was dark and she was already turning away, pulling the hood closer. Then, crouching low, my teacher crept through the trees. She slipped like a ghost into the shadows, disappearing behind the tree trunks and then reappearing as the flash of a shadow between them. In a minute or two, she was lost from view.

I blinked and tried to listen for her, but I could hear nothing. Her scent lingered in the air, though, which was odd because I didn't remember Terra ever wearing a perfume before. It was a light scent, but heady and a little sweet. I shook my head to dislodge the distracting thoughts that wanted to edge in.

"Focus," I muttered. I was in enough danger tonight without letting my imagination take me down that road. Instead, I thought about the importance of Terra's last words. Did I get the impression that she was... worried about me? The thought warmed my heart for a moment because I could still clearly remember her displeasure when I first arrived in her studio.

The idea that my teacher and I were inching towards friendship was encouraging, but after another minute or two in the cold I shuffled my feet and frowned. I could see nothing from my position in the trees, could hear nothing. The downhill side of Landon Shrike's mansion was probably only thirty yards away, a little uphill, and I didn't imagine it would be difficult to break in.

I felt anger flare in my chest, then a stirring of something deeper. It was an emotional yearning, a hunger, a need to find the man responsible for my misfortune and to make him pay. What am I here for, I frowned, if I'm just going to tag along after Terra and not do anything useful?

I realized I'd been stalking uphill without thinking, and part of me tried to hold back. It recalled Terra's command to stay put. It reminded me that I had no experience, said that I would be a liability to my teacher and a danger to myself. But I shook it off. My blood was up, and there was no time to waste. Besides, how much experience do you need to stop a man hellbent on shattering your life? Not much.

For that, a whole lot of rage will do just fine.

Edging around the corner of the mansion as I crept out of the trees and up a stretch of bare lawn, I scanned back and forth for a potential point of entry. My plan, at this point, was simple: Find Landon Shrike. Make him sorry. Get him to call off his hired guns.

There was a side door that looked promising, and nearby windows showed no movement in the room beyond. Slipping into the shadow of the house, I glanced in through the windows and took in what appeared to be a large, modern kitchen. The door was probably locked, but I tried it anyway and found it open.

Hmm, I thought, turning the knob but hesitating before I entered. Could this be some sort of trap?

But the fear in my mind was no match for the growing hunger in my center. The heat in my chest intensified, a sense of satisfaction and triumph. Maybe the man was just absentminded. Or maybe he overconfident and trusted in the security of his walls.

I stepped through the door, and I felt a stretch and a tear and a break as I left something behind me. Something invisible and immaterial, some part of the old me who would never have done any of this, who would have sat back and let someone else take care of things. I left behind my apathy and my willingness to be coddled. I left behind my hesitation and my doubt.

No more.

I would make it through tonight transformed, or not at all. There was no going back. For the first time, I really was putting everything on the line.

I had thought I was on edge, but the instant I crossed the threshold into Landon's home I felt my senses redouble. My heartbeat raced, my eyes widened and my ears were pricked for any hint of a sound. My knees were bent and I crossed the room on the balls of my feet, ready to spring in any direction.

The room had high ceilings and an open concept. The kitchen was separated from the living room by a granite-topped island, and I crept along the back of a long, leather sofa. There was a neat row of fruit sitting on the island next to a gleaming blender, the makings of tomorrow morning's smoothie. The only light was a yellow bulb over the stove, but I had no trouble picking my way around furniture and heading for through the tall, arched doorway into the next room.

BANG.

The sound slashed through the house, punching the air loud enough that it probably resonated off the hill and through the neighborhood. I flinched sideways instinctively, crouching down against one wall. Gun. Upstairs.

Then, the realization hit me. Terra.

Heart pounding, I shoved off the wall and sprang into the next room. No longer with any regard for stealth, I took the curved staircase three steps at a time. My hand gripped the railing and pulled me higher. I sprinted down the long hallway and to the open doorway at the far end, sliding to a halt on the smooth, hardwood floor.

The room beyond was bathed in moonlight. A huge, king-sized bed dominated the center of the space. On the far wall, a pair of tall double doors had been thrown open and dark, floor-to-ceiling curtains billowed in the cold, gusting air. Beyond the doors was a stone balcony, where Terra stood outlined in the soft radiance of a low moon. The hood of her parka had fallen back and she was standing very still. Her hands were at her sides, but I could see a desire to attack in every line of her figure.

Between Terra and I stood a silhouette, framed by the dark curtains. It was a man, and even from behind I could tell he had a gun in his hands.

"You're one of them, aren't you?" he was demanding in a harsh, imperious voice. "Don't get one step closer! That last one was a warning shot. What the fuck do you want from me?"

I must have made a sound as I stepped into the room, because in a fraction of a second several things happened very quickly. The man's head spun around and registered my intrusion. Over his shoulder I could see Terra tense as she prepared to fling herself forward. Landon Shrike's mouth twitched open in a grunt of surprise. Then, across the darkened room, I could see the decision on his face.

No... I started forward. No!

Shrike's gaze flicked back around and his finger twitched on the trigger.

The sound hit my entire body like a whipcrack.

Terra's eyes widened as the bullet punched her in the chest, burrowing through her parka and spinning her halfway around. The woman staggered back. One of her hands rose up, and I swore she was reaching out towards me. Then, her knees hit the edge of the balcony and her body tipped over limply.

I was halfway across the room when she fell, and I came up short like I'd run into a brick wall. No... no no no...

Shrike whipped around, leveling the pistol right at me. "Stop right there!" he yelled.

But I had already stopped, my mind drawing a blank in the moment when I needed to act. Just like that, I had lost my friend, my ally and the element of surprise.

And you thought you were ready...

* * *

Landon Shrike was wearing a pair of expensive men's pajamas and the kind of circular glasses that can either look hip or try-hard. From across the room they made his eyes look like big white eggs glued into his face. His pupils were beady little dots in the center.

He adjusted his grip on the weapon. "Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?" His voice was hard, and he seemed completely unfazed by the fact that he'd just shot someone.

The moment of shock was passing, and fear was quickly being supplanted by anger. I must not have been thinking rationally, because I ignored the gun and felt my body flush with heat. "My name is Chance Laurenzi," I growled, resisting the nearly overwhelming urge to charge forward, firearm be damned. "You ruined my night. So I came to ruin yours."

The line would have felt badass if I hadn't just watched him kill my friend.

"You're Chance?" The man's eyes widened, then he shook his head and took several steps back into the room. "Well who would have thought it..." he mused, creeping sideways toward the bed. Without taking his eyes off me, he scrabbled on the bedside table and seized a cell phone.

My eyes bored into the man as he lifted it to his mouth. Landon Shrike was shorter than I'd expected. He had dark hair pulled back in a short ponytail and a goatee that made him look like a fledgling samurai. He blinked rapidly, and loose hair made a wispy frame around his face.

I heard the soft chime of voice activation, and then Shrike said clearly, "Call Boris Lunari."

"Calling Boris Lunari..."

The quiet sound of ringing on the other end of the line as I tried to wrestle my thoughts into the shape of some sort of plan. I came up blank. I wasn't trained for this! What had I been thinking?

"Boris?... No, don't you What are you doing up at this hour me! I thought you were a goddamn pro! And instead of taking care of things like you promised, one of the targets shows up at my house along with some sort of ninja!" Shrike's voice sounded oddly petulant, like a child throwing a tantrum. "Sometimes I wonder why I even work with you people."

I started to take a slow, measured step back, but the gun barrel twitched and Shrike shook his head silently.

"No," he said dismissively into the phone. "I shot her, what did you think? ... I'll be waiting for you. With the other one. Get here soon... I don't know, that's why I called you to deal with this whole fucking issue. You'll take care of it. That's what you're paid for, isn't it? ... Whatever. Why aren't you driving already? I should hear car noises!"

The man hung up and there was a moment of silence.

"Now what?" I demanded. I was flush with anger, with bottled-up fear and pain. I couldn't believe I was so unable to do anything. The primal, righteous rage that had fueled me was still twisting in my chest, curling and clenching and urging me to act. But I had to swallow it down. I was no good to anyone if Landon Shrike shot me in the head.

"Now," the man said, and he gave me a twisted little grin as he walked closer. "Chance Laurenzi. We are going to sit together and wait for the people who will get you out of my life for good."

Shrike marched me downstairs. He had me sit on the cold marble floor of the entry hall while he lounged on the staircase, pistol resting on his knee but always pointed in my general direction.

Off to one side was the archway into the room I'd entered through, and behind me another corridor extended towards the rest of the house — whatever was beneath Shrike's bedroom. I wondered whether, if I followed that dark hallway, I would end up beneath the man's balcony, where Terra's body doubtless lay in a pool of blood. The thought made me shudder with revulsion.

"So," Shrike commented, snapping me from my morbid thoughts. "I guess it's no wonder I haven't heard from Victoria. That useless bitch..." He said it offhand, without malice, but the word bitch was like a pinprick, jabbing into the pulsing anger that lurked just beneath the surface.

I measured the distance between us. It was just a couple of long strides, but it felt like miles.

"Gives great head though, as I'm sure you can attest. And those knockers on her..." Gun still in hand, Shrike made a motion like he was feeling up an invisible pair of breasts.

I wanted to gag, but the man prattled on like we were old buddies.

"Would you believe I've never shot anyone before?" he asked. He ran one finger down the barrel of the gun, and the expression on his face was a frightening mixture of reverence and pleasure. "It felt good. Powerful. To take a life... I mean, Wow."

This is the guy who has been puppet mastering things from the start? I wondered. What a goddamn psycho.

Shrike aimed the gun casually at me and then pretended to fire, blowing quiet explosions out between his lips. Then, in an instant, his face turned pensive and serious. "You know," he said, "The funny thing is that I would have let you live." He widened his eyes, nodding. "No, it's true! I would have taken back everything you tried to steal from me, of course. Amber, Victoria, and those delightful redheads, but that's business. You can't just let someone cut in and capitalize on your investments. But I would have let you live..." He trailed off, looking at the gun, turning it this way and that. He seemed to be admiring the play of moonlight on the metal.

I didn't answer. I didn't say anything.

It felt like an eternity before I heard a car pull up the driveway, but despite all that time I was no closer to coming up with an escape plan.

You should have tried to take him earlier! my mind raged. Now he has backup! But I knew that if I'd tried anything I would have ended up like Terra.

My only hope was that there would be an instant of distraction that I could capitalize on. When that happened, I would be ready. I was prepared to let loose the beast that was crawling around in my core and begging for this man's blood.

The slam of car doors outside. Then, the front door swung open and three figures strode into the entry.

Shrike came to his feet, gun hanging loose in one hand. "Where's Boris?" he asked, surveying the group.

Now? Part of me asked.

Wait... Another part replied.

The woman in front answered. She had a dark pixie cut and a wore a long black coat over some sort of tactical vest. "Boris is checking the perimeter," she said. "You mentioned two hostiles. There could be more." Her eyes roamed from Shrike to me, her face expressionless.

I stared back. She looked like she was in her mid-thirties and had an air of hardened competence about her. She was still examining me when I looked away. Now was not the time for a staring match.

Shrike scowled. "Didn't I tell you? I shot the other one. Right in the chest. She probably broke her neck anyway, falling onto the back patio."

The woman shrugged. "We were sent to clean up your mess," she told him bluntly. "Don't complain if we're more thorough than you've been, to date."

I could tell her tone rankled Shrike, who squinted and worked his mouth. The short man's wide, unsettling eyes seemed to bounce from me to the woman to her two companions and back. His fingers twitched on the grip of his pistol, but he seemed to decide that there was no need to overreact.

Strange... I thought. Their working dynamic clearly wasn't as straightforward as I'd assumed.

"Forgive me," the man said, inclining his head. His tone oozed all the sincerity of a snake oil salesman. "I'm not used to this whole... wake up and murder people thing."

The female soldier was about to respond, but then she cocked her head and frowned. Behind her, one of the men shifted his weight. He had some sort of submachine gun hanging from a sling, and his hands curled around the grip.

Shrike didn't seem to notice. "You've done excellent work... Miss Lunari, is it? First with that traitor Lassiter and now helping me clean this up." He gestured vaguely in my direction. "I'm sure your superiors will be pleased. I can put in a word with them, if you like. You know that we enjoy a special working relationsh—"

"Boris?" The woman's voice was wary as she cut in, ignoring Lassiter completely. Her hand rested on the butt of the pistol that was holstered at her hip and she took a step toward me, peering into the shadowed corridor beyond.

That's when I heard it, too. The sound of footsteps, coming down the dark hallway. I turned, my eyes seeking through the shadows. In the darkness I could make out a figure, padding slowly closer.

Terra? My breath caught. That's not possible. I saw you die... Then, my eyes traced down her body and caught sight of what she held in her hands.

There was a sword in one fist. It was little more than a shadow, but I could tell from its shape. The blade was only two or three feet long, but it was dark along one edge and I swear I could hear the soft tap-tap-tap of blood dripping down onto the floor behind her. Still, it was what she held in her other hand that made me mumble incoherently as my throat closed in shock.

In the other hand swung a severed head.

What the fuck...?

No one in the entry hall moved as the dark-haired woman stalked into the light. The front of her parka was smeared dark red and she stooped like she was carrying a heavy weight. For a moment, on the edge of the room, she stood stock still.

Tap-tap-tap.

Terra's arm swung forward. The head flipped once and landed on the floor in front of the contract killers with a thud and a wet squelch. It belonged to a bald, bearded man. Tattoos covered his bare scalp.

Then, my teacher straightened. "Go," she said, staring into the other woman's face. "Or I swear by blood that you'll end up like your friend."

A split second that balanced on the edge of a blade. The taut, twisting force in my core coiled back, ready. Shrike's hired gun tensed, jaw tight and eyes glinting. Her men fingered their weapons. Only Shrike, himself, showed no hint of restraint or uncertainty.

"You should be dead," he declared, and everyone's eyes twitched to watch. He was standing on the bottom step, only two strides away from me, and there was a ring of disappointment in his voice. "You fuckers are hard to kill, but I'll make sure this time."

Time slowed as he lifted his hand, the muzzle swinging toward Terra, and I knew I had only a second to act. Once, I would have teetered on the edge of indecision. I would have hesitated, questioned myself, and ultimately been a useless viewer on the sidelines. Now, though, there was only one way forward.