Silent Blade by Ilona Andrews Page A

transmissions from Lyon, Azare and Angel between the tenth and seventeenth.” A week’s range, extending back from the first time they met.
    A long list filled the screens. “Eliminate all known Galdes terminals.”
    The list shrank to a fifth of its size.
    They hit gold an hour into the viewing. When Meli’s face filled the screen, he almost didn’t register that they had found what he was looking for.
    â€œ …a difficult task ,” Angel said.
    Meli’s eyes were calm. “ No more jobs. I’ve retired. ”
    â€œThis is a personal request, Meli. From Father.”
    He watched her close her eyes. She carried on the conversation, waiting for something, standing absolutely still.
    A smooth disk of interceptor slid from the hallway behind her. Her eyes remained closed.
    The interceptor slid closer, its cannon adjusting to the target.
    A translucent green ribbon struck from her, impossibly fast. The interceptor crashed to the floor, smoking.
    â€œGood God,” Angel’s voice intoned.
    â€œA melder,” Marcus hissed. His eyes had gone wide. “I’ve let you walk into the house of a melder without a guard.”
    â€œYou couldn’t have known.”
    â€œI’m…”
    â€œI don’t hold you responsible,” Celino snarled. “You couldn’t have known.” He turned back to the screen. “Replay the last ten seconds.”
    He watched her slice the lethal machine in a half. Precise. Elegant. Economical in her movements. She was beautiful.
    And yet she didn’t kill him. For days he had been at her mercy, but never once did she attempt to attack him. Having watched her in action, he was certain he wouldn’t have survived.
    Why?
    â€œRetina match to the Galdes personnel files,” he said numbly. “Anything with security B or above.”
    Meli’s eyes filled the screen. The computer analyzed the tiny patterns, the personnel files cycled on the left and then a match filled the other half of the front screen. The girl on the screen was much younger. Eighteen at most. Her eyes shone, incandescent with hope. His rage died, frozen into a solid block of ice.
    â€œIdentify,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice.
    â€œImelda Anara Galdes. Daughter of Lyon Galdes, sister to…”
    â€œEnough.”
    Celino closed his eyes, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He remembered the source of her words now. He had thrown them in her face twelve years ago.
    â€œThere are hidden files attached under her name,” one of the hackers said.
    He forced himself to look up. “Bring them up.”
    Two files. Engagement and Excise.
    â€œLeave me.”
    They filed out of the room, all except Marcus. “Leave me,” he repeated. The Anglican bowed and retreated from the room.
    Celino sank into a chair.
    â€œEngagement,” he said grimly.
    A picture of his younger self looked at him. He scrolled past it impatiently. A list of the books from his library, each title with his personal notes. She seemed to have added her own. “Celino: liked it but the main character lacked discipline. Meli: agreed.” Next title. “Celino: garbage. DNF. Meli: tedious beginning but worthwhile finish.” By Scarlet Sails, he had written: Pure sap. She added her own note, “Celino, you’re an idiot.”
    A list of holofilms, again annotated with two sets of notes. His school notes, pages and pages and pages of them. She studied him as if he was one of the ancient masters and she a disciplined devotee. She had access to his notes. She must’ve made a friend among the Carvannas.
    He scrolled. A collection of recipes. A recipe for passion cones. A note scribbled with a stylus on the screen marked the corner. “Don’t forget the lemons, Meli!” He recognized his mother’s small script. His own mother had conspired against him.
    No wonder he felt at ease with Meli. She knew