Deathstalker 04 - Deathstalker Honor

Arenas were banned to Finlay. He couldn’t even fight as himself without the Mask. His style would soon be recognized by the aficionados, and his secret would be out. Julian would hear, and know he’d killed an innocent man. So Finlay put on the fine clothes again and walked in Society, trying to be the diplomat and ambassador for the clone and esper undergrounds that he had reluctantly agreed to be.
    Because they needed him. Or at least, because Evangeline had convinced him they needed him.
    Sometimes he found himself wondering whether she might have got him his position through her own influence in the undergrounds, just to keep him busy, and make him feel… useful. He couldn’t ask her.
    She was always busy with her own work, struggling to help the clone underground to take its place
    above ground as part of the new political scene. It was important work. Sometimes he didn’t see her for days. The one time in his life when he really needed her comfort, and she wasn’t even there. It was a petty thought, and he did his best to disown it. He didn’t know that Evangeline had seen the growing desperation in his eyes, and arranged as much work for him as she could, because she was afraid he might kill himself if he didn’t have a direction, a purpose in his life. She didn’t know he still dreamed of the bulging veins in his wrists, and the sharp edge of a knife, or of a rope noose hanging in the moonlight, and how easy it would be to put it all behind him and find peace at last.
    Finlay saw Owen Deathstalker standing alone for the moment, and an old anger stirred in him. It wasn’t just love that kept him going; there was also an unconsummated hatred that still burned in his heart. He strode over to the Deathstalker, who turned and bowed formally. Finlay made himself bow in return.
    The forms had to be observed. Owen and Finlay might have fought on the same side in the rebellion, but they’d never had that much in common as people. Owen thought Finlay was a mad dog killer who might slip his leash at any time, and turn on friend as well as foe, and Finlay thought Owen was a dangerous amateur who thought too much. In public they were very polite with each other. Usually. “I have a bone to pick with you, Deathstalker.”
    “Join the queue,” Owen said calmly. “What’s your problem, Campbell?” “Valentine Wolfe. I’ve only just found out you knew where he was and didn’t tell me. He destroyed my Family, damn it.”
    “Valentine destroyed a lot of people’s families. That’s why Parliament sent me after him. If you were as well connected as you’re supposed to be, you’d have heard it too. I can’t help it if you’ve been a little…
    preoccupied lately.” “Don’t patronize me, Deathstalker!”
    “And don’t you get haughty with me, Campbell. If anything, I have a better claim on Valentine than you do. He destroyed my whole planet.” “I will kill him,” said Finlay. “And anyone else who gets in my way.
    Even the almighty Owen Deathstalker.”
    Owen smiled. “You could try,” he said politely, and then turned and walked unhurriedly away. Finlay watched him go, and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. And then someone put a hand on his arm, and he spun furiously around, only to find Evangeline Shreck standing there beside him, smiling. The rage left him in a moment as he smiled back at her.
    “I got back early,” said Evangeline, taking his hands in hers. “Thought I’d surprise you. And from the look of you, I’d say I got here not a moment too soon. Who’s upset you this time?”
    “Oh, just the Deathstalker,” said Finlay, calm again, all the darkness swept away by the sunshine of her smile and the glory of her eyes. He took her in his arms, as though they could force out all the things that separated them by the depth of their love. And maybe they could at that. After a long while they released each other, and stepped back to get a good look at each other. “God, you look lovely,” said Finlay, and she did. Evangeline was wearing a long dress of sparkling silver, cut away at one shoulder to show off her delicate, waif-like bone structure, and her dark hair was cut short in defiance of the current fashion.
    Her face was high-boned, wide-eyed, vulnerable but determined, and just looking at her again made Finlay all the more determined to defend her from all the dangers and cruelties in the world. She was his reason for living, the blood that flowed in his veins,