Corva looks around the room. Mostly clean, like the rest of this place. Smooth, nearly polished-looking walls, gleaming hardwood floors, and ornate trim work. A large bed with a thick mattress serves as the centerpiece to the room. One of the walls is covered with shelves, fully stocked in equal parts with alcohol and sex toys. Two guys are on the floor, one a bit older and substantially more clothed than the other.

The older one is—was—more obviously a merc, based on his clothes. He’s also more obviously dead, his eyes open and lifelessly staring out into nothing. Strangely, though, there’s no visible marks on him to indicate how he died. The younger one without pants is probably also a merc, judging from the tattoos all over his exposed legs. Hard to tell if he’s dead, but he’s unconscious enough that it’s effectively the same thing at this point.

And she is in the room. Lyia.

The older, deader merc lies at her bare feet and she holds a short ceramic dagger to her own neck. Her forearms have a nasty gash across them that is still bleeding pretty heavily. Drops of her blood stain her gray slacks and her camisole is pulled up, exposing her finely sculpted abdomen. She’s a bit more haggard looking than Corva remembers, but is definitely the same woman.

“Se liga—look. I don’t know what’s going on here, but I’m not with them. You’re Lyia, right? Jack sent me.”

Lyia lowers her knife ever so slightly. “I know who you are. You’re the girl who wrecked Pinny’s bar. Wait.” She lowers her knife completely. “He sent you? From where?”

“Well, here, actually. He’s stashed in the sub-basement with Zeke.” Corva pauses a beat, frowning. “Pinny?”

Lyia is already next to Corva, passing her and headed into the hallway. “It’s the name I call him. Is he okay?”

Corva turns and chases after her. “No, actually. Both of them got hurt pretty badly.”

“What happened?” Lyia tosses the words over her shoulder as her long legs carry her forward at a faster pace than Corva might’ve expected.

“Long story.” Corva, with nearly a whole head less height, needs to jog at just short of a full run in order to keep up.

“It ought to be. I haven’t hardly seen Pin at all since his bar got trashed. Just the times I came to help clean you up. Usually he gets caught snooping or peeping around here every few days.”

Corva lets the discussion fizzle as they round the corner to the echoing stairwell she’d used to get up to this floor. They work their way down the floors, Lyia skipping every other step, Corva skipping every three.

“Jack said that there’s a special room or something where it’s safe for you to do your healing thing. Is that where we’re gonna take him and Zeke?”

“Afraid not. That room gets locked and hidden in the event of a raid. The missus doesn’t even give me access when that happens.” Lyia slows down as they reach the sub-basement door. “Besides, the cat’s probably already out of the bag.”

“Wait. I don’t follow. What do you mean?” Corva grabs Lyia’s arm, but she loosens her grip almost immediately, realizing that she’s grabbed Lyia’s arm right where the cut is—strike that, right where the cut is supposed to be. There’s no deep gash there now. Just slowly drying blood and a slight warm feeling. She raises her head and looks up to Lyia’s face.

“I think you understand.”

“But why? Don’t they—”

“Remember those two mercs back in the room? The older one. He got the opposite of healing.”

Corva releases Lyia’s arm, allowing her to open the door. “So if they can track you and we can’t get into that barrier room, what’s the plan?”

Lyia opens the door and bounds down the stairs. “Pinny! You down here?”

Corva leaps her way down the steps and puts herself square in front of Lyia. “You didn’t answer me. I said, what’s the plan?”

“The plan?” Lyia lifts her hand, staring at her own palm. “The plan is to die free.”