Page 78 of The First Spark (Dynasty of Fire #1)

Mira forced herself to breathe, though her blood raged and her fingers itched to claw his throat out. Or gut him. Or blind him. Anything would be satisfying, really. But a quick glance at her mark confirmed he was still there, and his head was the key to a quarter of a million credits.

Plastering on a honeyed smile, Mira touched the ridge of Telon’s metal vodbox, where it fused with his sickly green skin.

The bastard had the nerve to lean in at that, like he really thought she would ever crawl into his bed.

“I’ve already taken one of your ears,” she said, with poisoned sweetness, “but I’d be happy to make your face more symmetrical. ”

Telon jerked away. “Bitch. You always overreact, you know that?”

“The first time was not an overreaction. ‘ A ride for a ride ’? I was fifteen. I should’ve taken a lot more than your ear.”

“Thought you were older,” he lied, waving a hand, “and ’sides, I already made up for that. Let you live on Santursi, didn’t I?”

Mira’s jaw tightened.

Her earpiece crackled, and Cybel’s dark voice spoke into her ear: “Say the word, Mistress, and this unpleasant specimen will have a bounty on his head.”

Under the guise of fixing her hair, Mira tapped her earpiece twice. No . But as a slight smile curved at her lips, she tapped it another three times— thank you .

“You let me live because my partner was aiming his pulser at your head.”

Telon grunted. “Heard your lover shacked up with a princess now.”

Mira downed her own glass in a single gulp.

“Just as well you’re done with him. He was never any good for you. Nice ass like yours, you could get a real man?—”

Mira whirled on him, pinching his ear and twisting. Telon winced, and she leaned in. “Either get the hell out of here, or you’re dead, Telon.”

“Oh, you’d regret that.” Something scraped against the counter—a creased paper, face-down against the metal. “Dunno why you care about some old coot, but I saw your job posted on the market.”

Without releasing her grip on Telon’s ear, she flipped the paper over.

A Dynarian man’s pale green face stared up at her. It was wrinkled and droopy, decades older than the photo she’d posted with the bounty three weeks ago, but it was unmistakably the man from the report on the Viana murders.

As Mira stared into Eletri Dracka’s emerald eyes, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth .

Shoving Telon away, she picked up the glass he’d bought her, frowned, then set it down and plucked up his untouched tankard.

She swallowed a mouthful of it. Cyr. Familiar, unaltered cyr.

Not poisoned. The Starlight crap he bought her might’ve been tampered with—she would’ve lost all respect for his skill as a merc if he hadn’t tried—but his own cyr was safe.

He snorted. “So, we have a deal?”

“How good’s the information?”

“My aibots tracked him down. You let me have this one—” Telon tipped his head towards the mobster, who was rising from his booth— “and I’ll give you your man’s location for free.”

“I take offense to the idea that his aibots found the Dynarian faster than me.” Cybel sniffed, and as Mira’s earpiece screeched, she cringed. “I would argue that it is statistically impossible. We can find Dracka without him. Tell him, ‘ gre’ava dank’shan .’ That’s Lwukutian for go to ? — ”

Mira tapped her earpiece— tap, double tap, tap. Their tap-code for shut up .

“— hell ,” Cybel finished. “Or is he Teuketan? The security cameras make it difficult to tell. If he is, tell him to summon his dark chariot. It roughly translates to?—”

“I could just say screw you ,” Mira muttered, rubbing her eyes.

Telon shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’m going to collect this score either way. My offer was more of a courtesy.”

“I was talking to my aibot.”

With a grunt, he reached into his pocket and slid another folded paper to her. The page was heavily redacted, but it appeared to be bank statements. “Your mark’s off the grid. Only a few transactions a cycle, all cash. You’ll have a hard time finding him if you wreck my op.”

Staring at the picture of Dracka, Mira twisted her silver ring.

It was comforting, even if it only linked her to shadows in the gaping void of her memories.

At least when she was wearing it, she could pretend her parents hadn’t abandoned her.

What kind of drugged out-lowlifes would leave their kid with a solid silver ring ?

The ring, her glowing eyes, that Fed woman’s chilling voice, Vesta’s murder… all of it had to be linked. Somehow.

Dracka had been twenty-six when the Vianas were murdered by a woman with glowing red eyes. He was close to a hundred now, nearing the end of the average Dynarian lifespan. When he died, her only lead would die with him.

Her mark was almost to the door, with his strippers in tow.

Telon sighed, collected his papers, and stood.

“Shame. Guess I’ll be going, then. And before you try to get in my way, that’s my partner over there.

” Mira followed his gaze to a scantily-clad Britirian woman, lounging in a booth behind her.

The woman smirked and waved. “Her pulser’s aimed at you, and the second I give the signal, you’re dead.

So just stay here, enjoy your drink, and let the professionals take care of it. ”

Mira smiled. Her fingers crept to the knife strapped to her thigh. “Her? I took care of her hours ago.” She eased the knife from its leather strap and slid off the stool. “She can try shooting me all she wants, but her pulser will backfire. Your girlfriend might be left without a face.”

Telon’s eyes narrowed.

“But you’re right. I don’t need the money.” Hannover had paid her six million credits last month for spying on her aunt, and that was enough to keep her ship running for half the cycle. “Give me Dracka’s location, and I’ll let you have the mark.”

Telon grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Smart girl. Knew I liked you for a reason.”

He set the papers down on the counter and pulled a note from his pocket. Mira snatched it.

Dragomir, Sector Eight

His messy scrawl was followed by a string of coordinates.

Dragomir. She hadn’t heard of it before, and she knew most of the planets in Eight.

“If you’re screwing me over, your life is forfeit. ”

Telon snickered. “Wouldn’t have it any other way, sweetheart.”

Glaring at his retreating back, Mira slumped onto her barstool.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing, Mistress?” Cybel asked.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Cy, I’ve never been less sure of anything in my life.”