Eidolon Read Free

counter. It was the till they were after, much good it
would do them. She'd made the deposit--
    Her captor yanked cruelly on her arm, the
edge of the bar cut into her frantic fingers; her grip held--and
the other man bent to snatch the box from its shelf beside her.
    "Here!" he called
    His voice was--oddly familiar. Ceola had no
time to chase the memory though. She twisted and kicked, her foot
in its sturdy shoe unfortunately missing the unkempt head, though
it did connect with his shoulder.
    "Clanless bitch!" He came up, box in hand,
and drove an elbow violently into her ribs.
    Breath left her lungs in a thin cry.
Weakness roared through her, and ribbons of color distorted her
vision. Where was the security team? She couldn't breathe! Her grip
loosened, her captor's fingers crushed her arm and she flew across
the bar into a rough embrace, face pressed against fabric reeking
of filth and engine fluids.
    "Go!" He shouted, and she heard hasty
footsteps making for the door.
    The man holding her twisted his fingers in
her hair, releasing her as he yanked her head back, his free hand
whipping 'round to strike her, hard, across the face.
    Pain exploded; she spun, thoughts spangled
into chaos, and fell heavily, stools scattering like
twelve-pins.
    Through the blare of pain, she head the door
slam shut.
    *
    "What do you mean, the tariff hasn't been
paid?" She heard her voice keying upward, and swallowed. The
security rep averted her eyes, making a show of checking her
screens. She had taken one horrified look at Ceola's face when they
were first connected, and thereafter found reasons to keep her eyes
averted.
    "Our records are clear," she said, not
looking up. "We have received no payment from The Friendly Glass
these last three relumma."
    "My records,"Ceola said, her voice shaking,
"are also clear, ma'am. The fee has been transferred on the day set
forth in our contract, never once missed, in more than a half-dozen
years."
    The security rep looked up, slowly, and met
her eyes in the monitor.
    "Our records then being so misaligned, I
suggest that we commission an audit."
    An audit! Out of the monitor's field, Ceola
clenched her fists, then bit her lip when abused fingers protested.
Her head hurt and her ribs, and--gods abound, an audit? She could
no more afford an audit, than--
    Behind her, the door opened, and she spoke
quickly to the rep, even as her heart-rate increased and her blood
chilled.
    "Hold a moment,"she said breathlessly, and
left the screen on as she forced herself to turn.
    I should have locked the
door , she thought, her palms wet now with
panic. At the least, I should have--but
surely, it is only a regular, come in for her
usual !
    But it was neither her attackers returning,
nor a regular who stood in the center of the room, hands tucked
cozily in the pockets of his jacket, surveying the tumbled stools
and disordered bar.
    It was Shadow.
    Relief brought tears to her eyes. She
blinked them away as she spun back to the screen.
    "I have customers. May I speak to you again
tomorrow?"
    "If you call on my off-shift, any of my
colleagues will assist you, ma'am. I will leave complete notes in
your file."
    Of course you
will , Ceola thought wearily, though she
inclined her head courteously.
    "My thanks. Good evening to you."
    She touched the disconnect, and turned into
a speculative green gaze. "Shall I fetch the Proctors, Ceola?"
    "No!" Her hand rose, torn and reddened
fingers spread wide. "I want--" She stumbled, words melting off her
tongue like ice. Her eyes stung, and that would be too much, to
weep and show helpless before him. Min might employ such
stratagems, but she . . .
    She . . .
    "I don't know what I should do,"she said,
her voice low. "I-- Please, Shadow--what should I do?"
    He seemed to become even taller, though he
stood there exactly as before, hands in pockets and head tipped
slightly to one side.
    "You should place yourself entirely in my
hands,"he said, soft voice decisive. "One moment."
    He spun,