Free Girl Takes Up Her Sword by Jacques Antoine Page A

focused on the movement of air in and out of his lungs. His breath echoed within his chest like wind in a cool, dark cave. It reached beyond him, filled the room, pressed against the windows and the door. He felt the bustle of activity in the other rooms of the house, the distant buzz of the staff.
    The darkness of his mind gave way to a faint light he’d not encountered there before. It grew brighter, warmer, until eventually it was barely to be endured. Out of instinct, he squeezed his eyes shut, even though the light was already inside him. His eyes, so to speak, eventually bore the intensity. In the depths of the fire, he could just make out two dark spots. They seemed to be staring at him.
    He opened his eyes with a start to see her across the room, standing behind Andie. The sun in the window lit her up brightly from behind. He squinted. Meacham noticed her, too.
    “I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, Michael,” Meacham said with a gracious gesture toward Emily. “Won’t you introduce us?”
    She opened her mouth as if to speak, but a subtle shake of the head from Michael stopped her. Walker noticed, even though he couldn’t take his eyes off her, now that he could look at her more or less comfortably.
    “Robert, this is Miss Tenno. She’s been staying with us these last few months.”
    Meacham smiled at that subtle bit of obfuscation.
    “Oh, Michael. I think this young lady has been staying with you a lot longer than that. In fact, I think she’s been living with you her entire life.”
    “Fine,” Emily said, inserting herself into the conversation. “Have it your way. I’m Emily Kane. Who might you be?”
    “Robert Meacham. I’m so pleased finally to make your acquaintance. And this is...”
    Walker sensed a change in her demeanor as soon as the old man spoke his name. What had been composed before was now hot. Anger to be sure, but something more. Sadness, too. The depth of sentiment was stunning, as was his apparent ability to feel it along with her. A heart so open, this was a new experience. He stepped between them as a precaution, in case she couldn’t keep herself from acting on the fire within.
    “I’m David Walker,” he said. “Your father and I go way back.”
    In an apparently innocent gesture, he reached out to touch her hand. She made no move to rebuff him, though her eyes looked as impassive as two bits of coal. A strange contrast, a face so composed, even inscrutable, but such turmoil within. Her control was formidable. A touch might allow him to take her measure, maybe even understand her. But her skin felt like fire. He pulled away as if he’d been burned. Words echoed in his head. Her words? Or just an artifact of his imagination? They seemed so urgent, though in a language he didn’t understand, maybe Japanese.
    He stumbled backwards and lost his footing. As he fell to the floor, he glanced up at her. It must have been a trick of the sunlight playing around her head, but for an instant she seemed to be brandishing... what... it’s ridiculous, but it looked like a flaming sword. A shake of the head, a blink, and everything seemed normal again.
    “You okay down there?” Meacham asked with a smile. “I guess he doesn’t get to see many pretty girls,” he said, turning to Emily.
    “If you and my father are such good friends, maybe you can tell me where he is,” she said, ignoring the old man.
    The question was somehow false, a misdirection, he felt it, but with all the turbulence he couldn’t quite see what was false about it.
    “No, I’m sorry, I don’t know,” he said. “How long has he been gone?”
    She ignored him and turned toward Cardano, as if to signal that it was time for his guests to leave.
    “I don’t have an army of assassins, Robert. The security here is just to protect my family. I can’t really help you.”
    “I think you’ve already seen how dangerous inaction can be, Michael. What exactly did it take to get your boy back from the