The Kinsmen Universe (Kinsmen #1-3) - Ilona Andrews Page 0,65

in a jungle clearing, wild bright flowers blooming all around them.

The enormous beast that was Ven stretched, raking the ground with his massive claws. Claire rolled, batting her red paws at the sun rays puncturing the jungle canopy in narrow spears of light.

A deep underground roar made her jump up.

The jungle fell apart, melting. The ground underneath them surged up, the wind pressing on them like a massive hand. Suddenly the movement stopped.

Behind them the ground dropped off in a sheer cliff. They stood on the edge of a wide grassy plateau. A low sound of a gong rang through the world. In the distance a bright star winked, then another, and another. Psychers logging in.

"Cute," Venturo said.

The realization washed over her. "DDS. Pelori came to see me two days ago, trying to buy me. He had sensed the shell on my mind. They must've put a code trap on my access line."

Across the plateau, dust rose. Something massive was moving toward them at top speed.

"Figured," Ven said. "Attacking Guardian was too risky. Castilla must've decided that sooner or later you would log in and alone you'd be the perfect target."

"We can grow wings and glide down off the cliff," Claire said.

He shook his enormous head. "No. I am going to finish this once and for all. But if you want to go -"

"Are you joking? You couldn't drag me away."

The cloud of dust parted and she saw them: an enormous elephantine monster, followed by a huge canine and a flightless bird with fiery plumage. Lim, Pelori, and Castilla.

Claire grinned, displaying her fangs. Fire sheathed Ven.

The monsters were almost upon them.

"Hey," Ven said to her. "Watch this."

Epilogue

From: Lienne Escana

To: Malvina Escana

Malvi, I know you won't believe it, but your son finally found someone. Smart girl, Grade A psycher, perfect manners, you'll love her. Apparently Castilla had the stupidity to attack the two of them in the bionet, and they ended up rampaging through DDS. It was brutal. DDS is still recovering and their stock has fallen 32%. I'd give you the details, but they refuse to talk about it during the work day and at night they hole up in his apartment, drink pink wine, and have sex like two rabid monkeys.

Anyway, if you want Venturo to marry, now is your chance. I've got a scheduling conference set up on Monday, and if we ambush them there with combined forces, I'm sure we can get them to commit to a date. I suggest you make your husband warm up the aerial as soon as you get this.

Your Loving Sister,

Lienne

A MERE FORMALITY

Chapter 1

The alarm chimed, sending tiny shivers through Deirdre’s fingers, coated in liquid interface. Five minutes to the opening speech. “All right, all right.” She shrugged the lead-grey metal off her hand and caught her reflection in the mirror. The hair. She had forgotten about her hair.

Her gown looked fantastic. She loved this dress; the cut and color suited her: a shimmering grey-black that caught her breasts, wound about her waist and fell down in clean lines to brush the floor. Unfortunately, the gown alone wouldn’t do it. Her hair sat atop her head in an ugly pile, and it was too late to do anything about it. It’s your fault, Robert, she thought, pulling out the pins one by one. She dragged the brush through her hair and inspected the result.

Hideous.

That’s fine, she decided. Nobody can be expected to be ran ragged for nine straight hours and then attend a banquet looking perfect.

A knock jarred her from her thoughts. “Open!”

The door slid open, revealing Fatima Lee in her navy blue power-dress. Robert’s aide-de-camp looked perfect, her hair a glossy black wave, her face fresh as if she had taken a long refreshing nap instead of the grueling administrative marathon.

“Three minutes to opening speech. If we’re late, Robert will suffer a deep space fit.”

They headed out the door and down the winding hallway at the speed of a brisk march. Unbound by gravity, the makers of the Orbital Embassy had constructed an impossibly tall banquet hall, and the hallway circling it matched it in height. Today the huge walls and ceiling lost in darkness brought a sense of foreboding. Like going through some ancient Temple to be sacrificed.

Fatima’s communicator buzzed with the voice of Michel Rashvili. “Where are you? Robert’s losing it.”

“We’ll be there in thirty seconds, tell his Excellency to keep his panties on.” Fatima snorted. “I don’t get it. The man can negotiate with terrorists with a needle