Veiled Extraction: Shadowrun, #56, page 31
“Yeah, but—” She gripped his arm. “No. You can’t do it. You have to go. I want you to go. But I can’t go with you. Not now. Not yet.”
“You want me to go?” he asked, puzzled. “Why?”
She thought about it for a long moment, then shook her head. “You don’t belong in here. Maybe later, when the wall comes down and Virago and I can both get out—I’ll look you up again. I want that. I want to get to know you better, find out what lies Mom told me about you. But not now.”
“Vyx—”
“No arguments, Dad,” she said with a faint smile. “Remember before, you said you’d never make me do anything I didn’t want to do? I’m an adult now. Mom doesn’t want to accept it, but I gotta make my own way.” Her smile widened, just a little, though her eyes glittered. “I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten by this long okay. And we’ll see each other again. You’re not gettin’ rid of me now that I know you’re out there.”
Winterhawk had no idea what to say. Part of him—rather more than a small part, if he were honest with himself—wanted to hit her with a stunning spell to knock her out, then pack her off to the transport. Sure, she’d be angry with him when she awakened. Maybe she’d never speak to him again. But she’d be safe.
She wouldn’t, though. Vyx was like him: she’d never be safe, no matter where she ended up. Safe was just another word for boring. Her mother would never understand that, but it was in his daughter’s blood, same as it was in his.
Still…
“No,” he said firmly. “If you’re staying, I’m staying too. We’ll sort this out somehow, and—”
His comm buzzed. When he saw the name on the display, he tensed. Had the whole matter just been taken out of his hands?
“Damon. Why are you calling? Is the transport—”
He listened a moment, then smiled, relief flooding him. “Good. Brilliant. Thank you, Damon. I think we all owe you and your people one. Probably more than one.” He ended the call and focused on Vyx. “Well. Some good news, for a change.”
“What is it?” She leaned forward in breathless, terrified anticipation.
“That was Damon. They’ve got Virago. They picked up the transport in Boston. She’s fine—which apparently is more than I can say for the people who had her.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “What? How—”
“I’m not going to ask. Best not to dig too deeply into how dragons get things done.”
Her eyes narrowed, and something dark flashed across her face. “Wait. You wouldn’t lie to me, right? Just to get me to come with you? Because—”
“Vyx…”
“You wouldn’t, right? Because—”
He bowed his head, then raised it and looked into her eyes. “Vyx…I would never lie to you about something like that. Look at me and tell me you don’t believe me.”
Her gaze bored into his. She held it for several seconds, and then her shoulders slumped and she let her breath out. “Thank the spirits…oh, gods…when can I see her?”
“Soon. I promise.” He gripped her shoulders. “But Vyx—don’t you see what that means? We don’t have to stay here. You can come with us. Both of you can.”
To his surprise, she shook her head. “No. We can’t.”
“What are you talking about?”
When she looked up again, she wore a faint, brittle smile. “I’m so glad they found her—that she’s safe—but Virago would never leave Boston, Dad. And I’m not leaving her. Like I said before—this is her home. And it’s mine, too.” She pulled him into a hard hug. “You go. Tell Mom I’m okay, and I’m happy. You don’t have to stay and help me now. We got this.”
“But—”
“Go,” she said. “I promise—this is what I want. And I know this is what Virago wants. We both owe you a lot for getting us out of this. Maybe we’ll even find Damon and see if there’s anything we can do to pay him back. But this isn’t where you belong. You know it, and so do I.” She grinned, and it lit up her grimy face. “Come on, Dad—we’ll see each other again. You can count on it. When the walls come down, you won’t be able to hide from me. But until then…” She spread her hands. “This is my home, but it’s not yours.”
He didn’t want to admit it, to acknowledge it. He still wanted to pack her off home like she was a small child with no choice. He could do that, if he chose to force it.
But he also knew if he did that, he’d lose her every bit as much as if he’d let her die in the toxics’ lair.
When he spoke again, his voice was ragged, resigned. “You’re sure this is what you want? Absolutely sure? Once I get outside, I probably can’t do much to help you.”
“Yeah.” She got up and pulled him into a hug. “Yeah. That’s what I want.”
His arms went around her, holding tight as the rain pelted down on both of them. “Right, then,” he murmured, and managed to keep his voice from shaking. “We’d best get going. We’ve both got things to do. And people to see.”
Fifty-Three
Four Days Later
Winterhawk sat in the same DeeCee bar where he’d first spoken with Olivia, toying with his drink and trying to decide if he hoped she’d show up on time, or be late so he’d have more time to prepare himself for seeing her again.
It had been four days since the frantic ride out of the Containment Zone. Damon’s remaining team had dropped him and Ocelot off at the rendezvous point, under cover of darkness and heavy magical concealment, with only ten minutes to spare on the two-hour deadline.
It had been hard to let Vyx go, but also easier, because he knew it was what she wanted. She’d already spoken to Virago, and the two of them had made plans to return to Boston and see how Lucky Liam would respond to their news. She hoped he’d take her back in, but if he didn’t, they always had Damon to contact. And someday… The walls, inevitably, would come down, though nobody knew when that would be. It could be weeks, months, or even years before he saw her again.
He hadn’t gotten a chance to speak with Damon directly, as the dragon had other urgent business he was attending to, but he left the data they’d gathered about the ley line, the toxics, and what was going on in Salem with Anissa, who promised to deliver it personally. Flea had decided to remain, partly because he wanted the payoff from the data, and partly because Anissa and the others had asked him to stay on for a while as their decker since the loss of Tweak.
Before they parted ways, Winterhawk had taken Anissa aside briefly. “Look after her, will you?” he asked, nodding toward Vyx, who sat on one of the benches in the back of the transport. “Don’t let her know, of course, but just—”
The samurai nodded. “Don’t worry. We’ve already been talking to Virago. I think I can convince him to throw some work their way, and keep an eye on them from afar.” She shrugged. “Kid’s good. Lot of talent. Both of them, in fact. Need training and experience, but that’s the easy part. If she doesn’t make it with the Ancients, maybe both of ’em might want to join Damon’s organization. You know, at least till they can find a gig of their own.”
Winterhawk hadn’t thought of that, but it wasn’t a half-bad compromise, especially since he knew Vyx’s chances of going back to MIT&T like a good little corporate student were somewhere between slim and none at this point.
“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate it. I just—”
“You feel guilty for leaving her here,” she said gently. She put her hand on his shoulder. “Don’t. We all gotta make our own choices, and she’s made hers. She’ll be fine. She’s got exactly what she wants. And you’ve got things you still need to do out there.”
That didn’t help much, but he didn’t say it. And then there was no more time, and he couldn’t say it even if he wanted to.
He spotted Olivia before she saw him, walking through the early evening crowd, dressed in her chic, designer corp-wear. He watched her as she approached, noting the anticipatory expression on her face. His heart beat a little faster, his body tensing. She wasn’t going to like what he had to tell her—he had given her no information when he called, beyond that he wanted to meet, because he wanted to tell her in person. He owed her that, at least.
As she reached his table her gaze swept back and forth, obviously trying to spot anyone who might be with him. When she saw he was alone, she frowned, then her expression crumpled. “She’s dead, isn’t she?” she asked bleakly.
He waved her to a seat; an unobtrusive server instantly set a glass of wine in front of her and slipped off.
“Tell me,” she said, eyes glittering. “Is she dead?”
“No. She’s not dead.” There was no easy way to deliver this news; he focused on keeping his expression neutral.
“Then—where is she?” She looked around again, as if expecting her wayward daughter to pop out from behind another table, or suddenly leap out onto the small stage where a jazz combo played soft background music.
In answer, he removed a data chip from his jacket pocket and slid it across the table to her.
She looked at it, then back up at him. At his nod, she picked it up with lacquered fingernails and popped it into her commlink.
Winterhawk watched her as she watched it. He could neither see nor hear the message, but he didn’t need to: he’d been there when Vyx had recorded it, still in her thrashed-up armored jacket, grimy-faced and full of resolve.
“I can’t come home, Mom,” she’d said. “I know about Dad, and it’s not his fault. He wanted to get me out, but I told him no. I know you want the best for me, but let’s face it—we’ve never really agreed on what that is. I love you, and I’ll see you someday. I’m serious—don’t blame Dad. He tried.”
He knew Olivia had reached the end when her brow furrowed, and her eyes shone with glimmering tears. When she spoke again, her voice shook, though he couldn’t tell if it was with anger or despair—perhaps a bit of both.
“You found her,” she said in a monotone, “and you just—left her in there?”
He closed his eyes briefly. There would be no reasoning with her, but he tried nonetheless. “What was I to do? She didn’t want to go. Should I have drugged her? Forced her? Is that what you’d have wanted?”
“I want my daughter back,” she snapped. One spasmodic hand crumpled a red cloth napkin. “You were supposed to bring her back to me. You said you’d get her out of there.” Her gaze came up to meet his. “She’s your daughter too, Alex. How could you just…walk away from her? What kind of father does that make you?”
“I don’t know, Olivia,” he said. It was getting harder to keep his tone even. “You tell me what kind of father I am, since I never got the chance to find out.”
She stared at him, clearly shocked by his words. “I told you why I didn’t tell you. And I was right, wasn’t I? She is just like you. And when she gets herself killed in there, it will be your fault. I hope you can live with yourself for that, Alex.” She stood, tossing the napkin back on the table. “I should never have contacted you. I’m no better off than I was before, and now thanks to you I know Victoria’s in even more danger than I feared.”
“Vyx,” he said quietly.
“What?” Her eyes narrowed, and her tone sharpened.
“Her name is Vyx,” he said.
She held his gaze for another beat, and then whirled and stalked off in the direction she’d come.
Winterhawk watched her go, but didn’t call after her.
Sometimes, it just wasn’t worth trying to make someone understand.
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SHADOWRUN: VEILED EXTRACTION
By R. L. King
Cover art by Victor Manuel Leza Moreno
Design by David Allan Kerber
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