Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

course,” she said. “I’m fine. I’ll be with you soon.” She shut off contact.
    Owen looked down at the remains of a human body scattered across the floor, and told himself he felt nothing at all. Together, Owen and Hazel searched the Standing, floor by floor, room by room. It took some time. The security system should have been able to locate Valentine, but he’d programmed it to ignore him. The Wolfe always planned his moves well in advance. And so they made their way through the ancient castle and did not find him, or any trace of his people. Valentine Wolfe had left the building.
    They finally ended up in Owen’s old bedchamber. The secret passage was still standing open, but Hazel talked Owen out of going back down to the flyer caves. It had been clear to her for some time that the Wolfe had made his escape from the castle, and probably from Virimonde, but she’d let Owen go on searching, because she could see he needed to. They stood together in the bedchamber and looked about them, wondering what to do next. Hazel sat down on the edge of the bed, legs swinging, and smiled as she sank slowly into the deep mattress. “This is some place you got here, Deathstalker. Did this really all belong to you?”
    “When I was Lord, this whole planet belonged to me, and everything on it,” said Owen. “Now the planet and everything on it is dead. All I have left is a Standing I never really cared for, and a few memories.” Hazel smirked. “I’ll bet you have some good memories from this room, at least.” “Some,”
    said Owen. “I had a mistress called Cathy when I was Lord. We were happy here.”
    Hazel sat up straight. Owen had never mentioned any previous women in his life before. She’d always supposed there must have been someone, somewhere, but a mistress was news to her. She kept her voice carefully casual. “And what happened to this Cathy?”
    “She turned out to be an Imperial spy. Tried to kill me when I was outlawed. I had to kill her.”
    “You killed your own mistress?” said Hazel incredulously. “Damn, that’s cold, Deathstalker.”
    Owen stared at the holo portrait before him, showing the original Deathstalker, founder of his Clan. “I killed him too, and he was my most revered ancestor. Seems to me I’ve been responsible for too many deaths in my life. And far too many of them people I cared for. Maybe you should find yourself a new partner.” Hazel got up off the bed and moved to stand beside him. “You never killed anyone you didn’t have to.”
    Owen shook his head. “I betrayed my inheritance when I killed Giles. I betrayed my name and my Family honor.”
    “No,” said Hazel firmly. “He did that when he forgot what he was fighting for. He was Warrior Prime, in his day, defender of Humanity. When he decided he wanted to be ruler instead of defender, he betrayed us all.” “He really was a legend,” said Owen. “An authentic hero. He actually did do most of the things the stories say he did.”
    “Yeah, including the creating and wielding of the Darkvoid Device. A thousand suns snuffed out in a moment, and no one knows how many billions dead. The greatest mass murderer in history.”
    “He meant well. He always meant well. He just… lost his way.” “Ah, hell,” said Hazel, slipping an arm through his. “We all lose our way sometimes. You just killed the man, Owen. The legend lives on.” “I can’t go home again,” said Owen bitterly.
    “You couldn’t have anyway. You’ve changed too much. And mostly for the better.”
    Owen raised an eyebrow. “Only mostly?”
    “Gosh, sir aristo, could you teach me to arch one eyebrow like that?”
    “Go to hell, peasant.”
    They stood together for a while, thinking their separate thoughts. “Owen,” Hazel said eventually. “Have you been manifesting any new abilities just recently?” “Not that I’ve noticed,” said Owen. “Why do you ask?” “Well, I was wondering if you’d learned how to call up alternative versions of yourself, like I do.”
    “Hell, no. I’d definitely have noticed something like that. That is one spooky ability, if you ask me.”
    “Trust me, I know exactly how you feel. One of these days I’m going to see if I can get one of them to hang around long enough for me to ask a few pointed questions.”
    “Do that,” said Owen. “I’d love to hear the answers. I think.” And then he broke off and frowned suddenly.
    “Now what?” said Hazel.
    “Valentine,” said Owen.