Darr

by Theresa Beachman

  He was out of time and needed every inch of his resolve.

  The thought of her in Judge’s hands made his stomach contract in a violent spasm. But the buzzing torment in his brain confirmed another Chittrix swarm was close, their attention already fixed on the humans and their noisy vehicles. The Chittrix’s speed increased as they narrowed into a tight killing formation, drones flanking the leader.

  There were only seconds left. Not enough to reach her. Staying here and doing what needed to be done, was the only way keep her safe.

  He retreated into the gloom of the library foyer, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the light. Hidden, but still able to see outside he waited as the Range Rover accelerated to the end of the street.

  Darr exhaled, conserving his energy.

  Outside, the winter sun faltered, blocked by the beetle-shiny backs of a Chittrix swarm. Their alien cries pierced the sky, startling the small group doubling back to the library. The men ducked out of sight, and as far as Darr was concerned, out of mind. He swept their presence from his awareness, zeroing in on the circling Chittrix looming overhead.

  Darr closed his eyes and sank to his knees. His head dropped, his chin nudging his breastbone as he concentrated on his breathing. He counted the trickle of cool air in through his nose and warm air out through his mouth.

  This was for Violet. There would be no failing.

  He opened his mind fully to the Chittrix.

  His mind soared, his consciousness reaching through the swarm as he skimmed through the consciousness of each alien.

  A dominant alpha and drones. Control the leader, and the rest will follow.

  The Chittrix curved and banked briefly upward, gaining height and speed before they plunged, their bodies coalescing into a sleek formation that sliced through the air, targeting the leaving Range Rover.

  Now.

  Darr stormed the lead Chittrix. His mind strong and free of the protective cloak of medication connected powerfully with the alpha alien. It briefly resisted, but its focus was on the humans ripe for slaughter below, and Darr slid in under its radar, flashes of its alien consciousness pulsing through him in a blinding torrent that made the tendons in his neck ache.

  He steered the alpha’s consciousness, screening the Range Rover from its awareness, graying it out so its presence faded like the negative from an old photograph. Flexing his will, he directed the Chittrix to the green estate car and the remaining men as the Range Rover accelerated to safety. Amplifying the color and noise of the men Darr tempted the aliens with visions of meat and the hot blood that pounded within.

  There.

  He pitched everything he had at the estate car and the panicking men. They fought with each other, unable to get into the vehicle fast enough as the screech and rattle of the Chittrix hurtled toward them at breakneck speed.

  Streaking in a perfect attack, the dominant Chittrix ripped the car roof off in a clean wrench as the men inside screamed and fired through the open space. Laser fire scorched the Chittrix’s thorax, and Darr grunted, curling in on himself as empathic pain seared his abdomen. He sucked in ragged breaths, fighting to maintain the connection.

  Ricocheting from one alien to another, he manipulated the creatures by sheer, bloody determination. His hands smashed on the filthy library floor, grinding grit under his fingernails as he hammered everything he had at the Chittrix, all his hatred honed to one perfect pinpoint of intensity toward the men who wanted to hurt his Violet.

  Screams penetrated the library’s open door as Judge’s men were lifted like figures from a toy car. Legs kicked in a futile dance in the cold air, and a pulse rifle detonated as it landed on the hood. The vehicle rocked from the impact, and the engine exploded, hurling the car aloft before it crashed to the ground in a blazing, smoking heap.

  Darr spat coppery blood and tucked into a protective fetal shape, his forehead kissing the floor.

  The Range Rover had escaped—Violet was safe for now. Relief flowed through him, fueling him with renewed energy.

  His concentration fired back to the scene of carnage. Three men had been grabbed, their thrashing forms clutched in barbed pincers. Their screams faded to tiny squawks as the Chittrix carried them east, toward the main nest in London in a beating rush of insectoid wings.

  One man remained. He fired from behind the wrecked shell of the car, its engine now silent and burning, blackening the air with acrid smoke. The alpha Chittrix remained, drawing the man’s laser fire and distracting him as another Chittrix landed at his rear. Its jointed limbs carved deep into the road, churning the concrete like butter.

  The man froze as behind him the hellish Chittrix tail pounded the road with a force that transmitted into Darr’s palms and knees. The whites of the man’s eyes widened. His time was up.

  Darr relinquished all control of the Chittrix and slumped, his job done. Screams rent the air for a few bloody seconds, and then there was nothing.

  Grubby wood pressed cool and real against his cheek as he sucked in ragged breaths. He rolled to his side, drained, sucking in oxygen to soothe the alien burn in his mind.

  Cold metal bumped his collarbone. He opened his eyes straight into the barrel of his own crossbow. Heavy male boots powered into his kidneys as their owner grunted in greeting.

  Mathew.

  34

  Agony hurtled up Darr’s spine, joining the pain-party thrashing through his brain. His lungs cramped, refusing to suck in air, and flashes of light edged his vision. Mathew was shouting, but the pain cascading though Darr muted the volume. Finally, with a dry retch, the world slipped back into focus once more.

  Mathew dropped to his knees beside Darr. His neck was corded, his teeth bared. “Fucking bastard. This is your fault. We’re here because of you and your bitch, and now…now, fuck.”

  He lurched back to feet and threw Darr’s crossbow across the room. He hurled the bolts after it, the litany of abuse from his mouth becoming increasingly base.

  Darr heaved himself on to his hands and knees. He wiped his mouth, scarlet blood marring the heel of his hand. His lips formed words, but no sound came out.

  Mathew spun on his heel, cocked his gun and aimed. Darr raised one shaking hand in pointless defense. Mathew stalked back and crouched, his nose only inches away, his pupils narrowed to pinpoints. He stabbed a ruined bloody finger at Darr, spit flying from his mouth. “You. You’re the reason Riggs is dead.”

  Mathew cracked his gun against Darr’s forehead. “He was a fucking kid. Just a kid.” He straightened and stepped back a pace, disturbing dust motes suspended in the light. “Fuck!”

  He lunged suddenly, grabbing Darr by the collar with his uninjured hand and ramming him up against a shelving unit, his fist knotting at Darr’s windpipe. Darr struggled. Mathew was an inch or two shorter, but a good few pounds heavier, and his solid bulk restrained Darr easily in the aftermath of controlling the Chittrix. “The only reason you’re not dead right now is because Judge wants you alive.” He rammed his gun into Darr’s jaw, grinding the weapon against bone as he spoke.

  “Once Judge is finished with you, you’re mine. You get that? MINE.” Mathew released Darr’s shirt, thrusting him away, then wiped his hands on his thighs. He bent and picked up the scattered crossbow and bolts. “Should have been fucking you,” he growled. “Get up.”

  Darr obeyed. Nausea washed through him, and he swayed as he waited for the world to stabilize.

  Mathew paced, rubbing his handgun against his palm. “You’ll wish you’d run.”

  Darr ignored him and took a shaky step toward the door, needing to see for himself. At the bottom of the hill, the burned-out shell of the estate still smoked, thin gray tendrils lacing the sky. There was no sign of the Range Rover, and the Chittrix were gone. Everything hurt, but the satisfaction of knowing Judge’s men had been torn apart by the Chittrix was worth it. And more. He had screened Violet from the Chittrix. And himself. They had been unaware of him the entire time. Darr’s heart rate spiked, bringing a rush of g
iddiness. Fucking amazing.

  He turned to face Mathew.

  He had to get to the Box. To find Violet.

  Darr spread his legs into a wide stance. “Judge left without defending his own men. That’s what you should be pissed about.”

  Mathew shook his head, his eyebrows knotting. “Spare me your amateur psychology shit. This is on you.” He strode to the door and surveyed the mess, clutching his damaged fingers to his chest. He cocked his head at Darr. “Unbelievable.” He jabbed Darr with his handgun. “Hands where I can see them.”

  Darr shuffled, his shoulder muscles creaking as he raised his hands level with his ears. He was a mess—disheveled clothing, blood seeping through the dressing on his arm. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d shaved.

  But the blood that coursed through his veins was different. Connecting with the Chittrix had been different. He was different. He’d controlled the Chittrix, and they’d remained unaware of him throughout. Otherwise, they would have come for him too. The knowledge brought lightness to his limbs.

  He regarded Mathew through stinging eyes.

  Mathew stalked around him, humming under his breath. “I should just kill you. No one would know.”

  Darr set his jaw. “That would be too easy.”

  Mathew rolled his shoulders backward. “Yes,” he decided, continuing to pace. “I want you to see what Judge does to your woman. That’ll be worth its weight in gold.” His eyes narrowed, and a nasty grin split his lips.

  Darr’s vision narrowed to a thin tunnel. His hands stretched at his side. At that moment, he saw what he’d become if something happened to Violet. Even if he survived, his life wouldn’t be worth living. Every atom of him wanted to run in a blind rush to find her. But if he did, he’d be killed instantly. The only chance Violet had was if he stayed alive.

  He shifted his stance, willing his body to relax. “Anyone who lays a hand on her is a dead man.” He stared at Mathew. “Actually, maybe I’ll kill you all anyway. Just to be on the safe side.”

  Mathew stilled. “Figures. Never took you for a coward.”

  Darr kept his voice level, his emotions in check. “Why are you doing this?”

  Mathew’s eyes glittered. His tongue darted out, licked his lips. “Judge feeds his men. Judge looks after his men. You can do better than that?”

  “Does he think for you too?”

  Mathew’s face darkened, and his gun arced in a black streak, clipping Darr’s cheekbone.

  Darr grunted, pain shattering him. “If you’re going to kill me, fucking hurry up,” he grunted, but whatever Mathew thought, Darr knew that wasn’t how it was going to end.

  Mathew spat on the floor then cleaned his mouth on his sleeve. “Getting ahead of yourself. Soon.”

  Darr slid his palms against his sides, the friction providing focus. Mathew was the quickest way to find Violet. The need to find her subjugated the need to kill Mathew. He slumped in submission, eager to move on.

  “Better.” Mathew reached for his belt and tossed Darr a set of handcuffs. “Put those on.”

  Darr caught the cuffs and clicked them shut. Cold metal bit his wrists. He held his hands out, displaying the locked cuffs. He was ready for whatever Mathew or Judge had planned for him. The last vestiges of Chittrix-agony dissolved from his brain, leaving him clearheaded, warmth suffusing his body.

  Mathew smiled at Darr’s compliance. His teeth were regular, he’d gone to a dentist once. Probably chatted about the weather and how expensive dental work was becoming. “We have such a treat for you.” He bumped Darr in the back with the nose of his gun. “Move.”

  35

  Violet was thrown from side to side as Judge floored the Range Rover. He whooped as he accelerated, his face craned at an angle, tracking the sky. Gears crunched under his control and the back end of the vehicle kicked out as he cornered at speed.

  Violet grabbed the seatbelt with awkward fingers, swinging with the thrust of the car as she checked the rear window. The road was empty, but the horizon was filled with a squadron of Chittrix that circled like alien vultures. A tall column of black smoke rose ominously, marking the area for miles around. Something was burning badly.

  She held her breath, expecting the Chittrix to break formation and pursue the escaping Range Rover, but they didn’t. Instead, the circle tightened, and the Chittrix dove earthward.

  The vehicle rocked, reminding her of escaping the Box. Helping Darr to the car because he was wiped out. Being angry at his lack of responsiveness. Only now, she knew why—because he had a connection with the aliens.

  What if—

  Judge hung a sharp right, tearing Violet’s hands free from the belt. Her head connected audibly with the mahogany trim. Time halted momentarily then swung back into play as she was hurled to the floor between the black leather seats. She curled into a ball, wedging her knees into the plush carpet. Her heart yammered in her ears, debating the merits of implosion. She jammed her hands into her armpits, clutching her ribs to suppress the shaking.

  There was nothing she could do now but wait.

  At last, the Range Rover ground to a halt, the wheels crunching on stones. Judge opened his door and jumped out. Seconds later, the door to Violet’s left was wrenched open. Cold air blasted through the gap, chilling her as Judge manhandled her out of the car. Clarkie hovered in the background, wringing his hands as Judge instructed him to follow.

  Violet’s feet found rough ground, and she was able to get her bearings. She was back at the entrance to the Box, in the clearing she had scoped with Darr. Hot tears pricked her eyes, forcing her to blink them away. Darr had made his choice. At least she knew where she stood now, even if it wasn’t where she wanted to be standing. She lifted her chin. She’d dealt with worse.

  She was a survivor.

  Judge marched her to the doors leading deep into the mine, his fingers holding the soft flesh of her elbow in a pincer grip. He whispered in her ear as they walked. “Welcome back, sweetheart. You could’ve saved yourself a lot of time and effort if you’d chosen to stay here in the first place. Let’s not be stupid this time. Do you understand?” His hot breath washed over her.

  Violet dipped her head, not trusting herself to speak, her skin crawling from his touch.

  She chewed the inside of her lip. She would not cry. She abso-fucking-lutely was not going to cry. She swallowed the hot knot in the back of her throat. Alone was okay. She had fought alone for long enough to know she could handle it. She was a fucking soldier.

  Judge pushed her onward, his palm curved tightly around her waist. “Nothing to say?”

  “Let me go,” Violet said in a low voice as he guided her over the entrance step and into the stark interior. He paused beside her, allowing her eyes to adjust to the low light.

  Judge tutted loudly. “Ah, you don’t mean that. We’re going to get to know each other real well. You won’t want to go anywhere once I’ve finished with you.”

  He brought her to a stop and gestured for her to get into a two-seater electric buggy, clucking his approval as he settled next to her and turned the small plastic ignition key. The car lurched forward with a loud hum, then they were speeding up the wide access path that miners had carved out of solid rock over a hundred years ago.

  He took several turns, and Violet did her best to memorize them, visualizing the route they were taking in her head. Prepare and plan. There was no obvious escape route right now, but when her chance came, she wanted to be ready.

  Judge turned the buggy off outside a white door. Sticky numbers had been fastened to it. Fifty-two. Were there really that many rooms down here?

  “Out.”

  Violet climbed out of the vehicle and spotted Clarkie huffing up the corridor. His face was purple from the exertion of following the buggy.

  Judge clicked his fingers at Clarkie. ‘That’s what I like to see.” He turned to Violet. “Do you see how big he is? Am I doing you a favor, Clarkie?”

  The large man nodded, wide-eyed, the
rasp of his strangled breathing his only reply.

  “Welcome.”

  Violet shrugged Judge off and entered the dimly lit room with a fast-paced stride. It was windowless, stale, and stuffy. In the center was a large king-sized bed, neatly made with perfect hospital corners. A chair stood at its foot. In another corner was a freestanding wardrobe made of dark wood and heavily engraved.

  Creepy.

  A TV camera stood on a tripod at the end of the bed, a jumble of leads connected to a large battery.

  Oh My God.

  Judge followed her line of sight and winked. “That’s for later.” He patted the bed, indicating for her to sit. “Now, I’m going to release you, so you can get cleaned up. Cassy is going to help you.”

  Cassy. Violet held her breath.

  “If you try anything stupid, I will shoot you.” He ran his knuckles down her cheek and Violet suppressed a shiver, “Would be a shame to ruin this pretty face though.” He pressed his lips together in a toxic smirk that made Violet want to smack his face with a large brick.

  He freed her wrists. Her fingertips were white with lack of blood and pulsed painfully. Violet swallowed a wave of nausea, flexing her stiff fingers despite the discomfort.

  Judge snapped his fingers at Clarkie again and pointed to a door at the back of the room. Clarkie lumbered over and opened it with a jerk.

  Seconds later, Cassy walked in, her head low in subservience. She wore a short blue dress; her skin pebbled from the chilly air. A leather collar marred the smooth skin of her neck.

  Cassy stopped beside Judge and allowed him to trace his palm across the sweep of her shoulder and the swell of her breasts. He squeezed her flesh, his gaze pinned on Violet the whole time.

  Violet stared right back.