Watcher's Web

Watcher's Web Chapter 16

Jessica gulped and stopped. "Where are we going? Where are you taking me?"

If he thought she was coming in that thing, he would have to think again. She would agree to nothing, unless she fully understood it.

His blue eyes met hers. "Do you have a single trusting bone in your body? I told you we need to make you act the part of a lady."

"Where are you taking me?"

"Nowhere. Do you think I’d risk my licence by going off without a permit?"

"I don’t know about permits. You don’t tell me anything."

"And you would do well to accept what you’re given once in a while." There was that accusing finger again.

She was going to say You don't give me anything, but that wasn't true at all. He wasn't giving her some information she dearly wanted to know, but he had explained how he wasn't free to share everything. He could just as easily have left her to fend for herself with the Pengali. He didn't really need to take any risks for her. He was right. She wasn’t a lady; she was a mangy dog expecting a kick. Crawling under the table, but positioning her teeth so she could inflict the most painful bite possible when the foot came again.

She’d built a shell for herself that looked like a tough cowgirl on the outside, but the armour was close to breaking and inside she was a mess. If she wasn’t human, then why did she feel so much pain?

He stopped at the door of the craft. Sunlight made his hair glow like gold.

‘Then it is a truly poor place where you’ve grown up. I hope to show you that there are places where someone’s word is just that: his word. I promised I would help you, and no matter how stubbornly and stupidly you behave, I will do just that.’

He opened a panel next to the open door. At the press of a button, plates of black metal unfolded from the recess and fashioned themselves into steps.

A gust of wind blew Iztho’s hair across his face. His rings glittered in the sunlight as he raked it back and gestured for her to go inside. Like a gentleman holding open the door to a lady. His expression, though, said otherwise; he hated her, with good reason. She'd behaved like a brat.

Jessica felt dreadful.

She climbed the steps and plunged into semidarkness of the aircraft’s cabin, a single space the size of a small room. When her eyes had adjusted, she saw control panels, blank screens, dials and other instruments on a panel that looked like the craft’s controls. A red light blinked every two seconds or so.

A table surrounded by a semicircular bench and padded seats, bolted to the floor, was directly opposite the entrance. Cupboards, made of what looked like dark-coloured wood, lined the walls, their glass doors showing stacks of documents, small boxes and instruments, all individually strapped to the shelves with neat ties threaded through golden eyelets and secured with gold clasps.

Iztho opened a door, slid the cloak from his shoulders and hung it on a hook inside.

"Is this all yours?"

"Yes." He crossed to the table and set something down: a flat, tile-like object. "And before you accuse me of having known that we would end up here in advance: I had a member of my staff bring it here."

He slid in the seat opposite her.

"Now, firstly, you’ll need to at least pretend you can speak to me in my own language. That is Mirani. I don’t suppose you have ever heard of it."

"No."

He slid the tile-like object towards him, pressed the corner and pushed it back to her.

It was a screen of some sort, like a tablet, but much thinner and flexible.