Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

there would be other times. Finlay slipped his sword back into the scabbard hanging from the bed post, and reclined on his bed again, the picture of casual ease. Ruby slammed her sword back into its scabbard and glared at Jack. “What’s all this about a mission? I thought we had a mission running down the Shub connection?”
    “This takes precedence. Apparently all hell is breaking out on Loki, and Parliament wants us there yesterday. Shub will have to wait.” “Isn’t it always the way,” said Ruby. “Start out doing one thing, and the next minute you’re being sent somewhere else.”
    “Story of my life,” observed Finlay from the bed. “Let yourselves out. Try not to slam the door behind you.”
    Jack had to practically drag Ruby out of the room, but eventually they were gone, shutting the door reasonably quietly behind them, and Finlay was left alone again. He stared up at the ceiling, already forgetting his visitors. Just lately someone had been sending professional assassins after him. He didn’t mind particularly. He was glad of the exercise. But none of them had lived long enough to name their
    employer, or how they knew where to find him. It could have been almost anyone. With all the enemies he’d made, he was lost for choice. They were one of the reasons he’d decided to leave Golgotha and go after Valentine.
    Not because he was worried for his own life, but because there was always the chance the assassins’
    thwarted employer might try to get at him by attacking those he cared about. Like Evangeline or Julian.
    And he couldn’t risk that. Julian could probably take care of himself, but he couldn’t guard Evangeline all the time. If only because she wouldn’t let him. Evie was very protective of her privacy. He knew there were things about her, secrets, mysteries, that he didn’t know, but he’d never pressed her. Finlay understood about secrets. He had enough of his own.
    Evie was away again at the moment. Off doing something for the clone underground that he wasn’t cleared to know about. For all their proud talk of equality and fraternity, the underground still didn’t really trust anyone who wasn’t a clone. Given how busy the underground had been keeping Evangeline, even though the rebellion was officially over, Finlay couldn’t help wondering if they were trying to keep him and Evie apart. Because he was only a human. And a damned aristo, at that. Finlay smiled briefly. It was probably even simpler than that. The underground never had approved of him, even when they turned to him for the missions no one else could do. They thought he was crazy. And of course they were quite right. No sane person would have done what they wanted, taken the risks he had, and bathed in blood till it dripped from his soul. The problem came when the Empire finally fell, and everyone expected him to be sane all of a sudden. He could have told them it didn’t work like that. You couldn’t go through all the things Finlay had, do what he had done, lose all he had, and still be entirely rational at the end of it.
    The only things keeping him even borderline sane were his love for Evangeline and his friend Julian Skye.
    They were his anchors. They kept him… balanced. Without them he had only himself, and he didn’t know who that was anymore. He’d been many people in his time. The fop and dandy. The Masked Gladiator. The rebel fighter. The underground’s assassin. Evie’s love. Now all their voices clamored in his head at once, and he was lost in the bedlam.
    He longed for action. For the thrill of the fight. Everything had been so simple then. You knew where you were. No shades of gray. No politics. Nothing to hold him back. Just do or fail. Win or lose. Live or die. And oh, the bloodred rush, the heart hammering in his breast, the joy at being the best there was, and oh, oh, the thrill of it all. The marvelous moment of murder. Nothing quite like it. Like an endlessly satisfying, endlessly addictive drug. Perhaps he had more in common with Valentine Wolfe than he thought.
    Finlay scowled and made himself change the subject, turning his thoughts to the day’s earlier events.
    He’d gone to see his extremely estranged wife, Adrienne, and their two children. He still wasn’t sure why. Perhaps because they were the only part of his past life that wasn’t touched by what he’d become.
    Finlay closed his eyes and let his mind drift back.
    Adrienne opened the door almost before he’d