by Carysa Locke
On our way. Any problems?
Not a thing, why?
Just be vigilant. Reaper eyed the bodies around them. We may not be the only ones making our way to you.
Chapter Twelve
Incredibly, Reaper and Mercy somehow made it to Ghost and Declan without encountering any further predators — of either kind, human or beast. Their pace was slow, both out of caution and in Mercy's case, injury. Reaper’s arm didn’t seem to slow him down, but the more Mercy walked, the more pain stabbed through her knee. She kept pace as best as she could and didn't utter a word of complaint.
Her own injuries were minor compared to Reaper’s. The fact that his was still bleeding heavily was not good, but he refused to do more than put pressure on the wound through his armor’s compression capabilities until they reached the others.
So Mercy did her best to keep up. By the time they reached their destination, she was walking with gritted teeth and counting every step. When she stopped, she stood with all of her weight on the right leg.
Ghost stepped out of the shadows. "Boss." His gaze went immediately to Reaper's arm. Without a word, he swung his pack off his shoulders and pulled out a medical kit.
Reaper shrugged out of his shirt and Mercy winced at the deep furrows that started at his shoulder and tore down his bicep. Dirt crusted along the skin and blood started flowing freely the instant he removed the pressure.
“Damn," Declan said, coming to stand next to Mercy. “What the hell did you guys run into?"
They were all keeping their voices low. Mercy flicked a glance at him.
"Should I start with the slavers, the mercs, or the beasts?" she asked.
“Shit, when you guys find trouble, you don’t mess around. How’d you get away?”
“By killing them.”
For the first time since she'd known him, something like respect gleamed in Delcan's dark eyes. He looked her up and down, obviously checking her for injuries. She had no doubt she looked a mess. Her hair was soaked and matted, the braid half undone and dripping icy water down her back. Mud covered her from head to toe.
“You all right?" Declan asked.
Not really. She shrugged. "Bruised up. Not like Reaper."
His gaze moved to her consort. Ghost was cleaning the wounds. It had to be excruciating, but Reaper was completely expressionless.
"Tell me about the door," Reaper said.
Declan gestured. "It's right here. Some kind of strange material I've never seen before. Can't even scratch it. And we tried. Ghost can't get through. Seems locked up pretty damn tight, like they really wanted to keep whatever's in there safe."
He walked a few feet beyond where Ghost and Reaper stood. Mercy followed him, allowing herself to limp now that they weren't hauling ass across two and half kilometers of city. Reaper caught her arm as she passed him.
“As soon as Ghost is done with this, we’re taking care of your knee. Try not to move much until then.”
She wasn’t sure he’d noticed, but she should have known better. Of course he had. Injuries never escaped Reaper, and only the urgency of their situation had required them to ignore it temporarily.
“I’ll be careful.” She smiled at him before limping slowly after Declan.
It was a short distance. He disappeared into what looked like an alley, but when she turned the corner she saw it was actually a long entrance, almost like a tunnel that ended at a blank wall. It took Mercy twenty-six steps to reach the end. There was no access panel, no locking mechanism, no handle that she could see.
It didn’t even look like a door. It was smooth, with an almost translucent quality, but opaque like black glass.
"How is it supposed to open?" she asked, looking along each seam where it met the wall. It was taller than most doors, too, nearly twice her height, and twice as wide. She could see her own reflection in it, and she was definitely a mess. Mud coated her clothing from head to toe. The self cleaning aspects were clearly overwhelmed and not coming back from it. Her braid hung ragged and strands of escaped hair were wet and plastered to her face and neck. Blood matted the left side of her head, and when she touched it gingerly pain shot through her temples.
Great. She could probably add a concussion to her list of injuries.
She placed her hand against the door and closed her eyes, experimenting with the telekinetic pulse Reaper had described. Ripples moved out from her push, and she could "see" the way they echoed across a vast chamber. She caught a hint of something that felt like shelves lining the walls deeper in, and definitely an opening in the floor. Stairs down? A lift? She wasn't sure. This was hardly a perfect picture, but it was enough.
“This could be it,” she said, opening her eyes to meet Reaper's gaze. He'd come to stand beside her. His arm was wrapped in a nano bandage, and she was pretty sure Ghost had done some sealing work on the grooves in his flesh. They didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. His shirt was back on and the armored fabric was trying to absorb the blood that soaked it. A few patchy spots had disappeared, where others looked like they were drying to a rusty brown color.
Reaper stepped back and looked at the door. Experimentally, he picked up a decent sized rock and threw it. It hit with a loud crack, but when it fell there wasn’t even a scratch on the smooth, glass-like surface.
“We already tried that,” Ghost said, coming to kneel beside Mercy.
He felt around her knee and she sucked in a breath. “Nothing feels broken,” he said. “But there’s some swelling. Probably a ligament.” He pulled out a capsulet and jabbed it into her knee. “This will help reduce inflammation and pain for the short term. That’s about all we’ve got in the kits. Once we get back to the ship, we can treat it properly.” He nodded to her pants. “I’d use the compression in those to help support it.”
She thanked him, but most of her attention was still on the door and Reaper’s examination.
"There has to be some kind of trigger," Mercy said.
"I agree." Reaper rapped his knuckles on the surface. An almost musical sound came back.
"Ghost, you can't get through?"
He shook his head, getting back to his feet. "Nope. Not even a little. It's like a shield or something is around the room, blocking me. I have no idea what it could be."
"It definitely looks manmade," Mercy commented. "Some kind of composite maybe. With special tech added to mess with people like Ghost?"
"Maybe.” Ghost looked dubious. “No tech’s ever prevented me from ghosting before.”
"What about you?" Mercy glanced at Declan, standing a few feet behind them in the tunnel. "Did you try your gift?"
"I did." He shook his head. "No one's been here in a long time, or if they have, they didn't linger long enough to leave much resonance."
"Hmm." Frustrated but also intrigued, Mercy took a step back. "We have to be missing something. No one designs a door that doesn't open."
A noise back outside had them all turning in that direction. Cannon and Feria leaned against the tunnel wall, both of them breathing heavily as though they'd run a long way. Blood streaked Feria's thigh, and Cannon had her arm slung over his shoulders. He'd been half carrying her from the looks of it.
"Cannon, Feria." Mercy moved to the entrance. "Are you all right? What happened?"
"Oh, we had a lovely run in with two teams of mercs," Feria said. "Bastards got the jump on us. They were wearing inhibitors, can you believe that? The fuckers were blocking us from using Talent on them!"
“Fortunately,” Cannon said, “it only stopped us from using Talent on their minds. Telekinesis still worked just fine for flinging them bodily into the nearest wall.”
"Or cutting off their ability to breath," Feria added, still sounding winded. She was leaning against the wall and Cannon equally, her expression tight with pain.
Cannon chuckled. "Yes, that worked beautifully as well."
They shared a glance, smiling. Then Feria winced and sucked in her breath. "Does anyone have a medkit? I'm afraid we lost
our packs in all of the excitement."
“I do.” Ghost dug his out once again. “Cannon?”
The pirate king shook his head. “I’m not injured. I might have been, but Feria put herself between me and the guy wielding a damn vibroblade. He tried sneaking in behind us.”
Feria laughed, but stopped abruptly, clearing finding the action painful. “Well, I’m sure he regrets that now, being dead.”
There was silence as Ghost stared at the two of them for an awkward moment. “Well,” he said finally. “It’s good you were there, then. Let’s, uh, see how bad that is.”
Mercy stared at him in mute shock as he pushed past her and took Feria's arm from Cannon, helping her to a nearby chunk of plasteel. She sat, wincing. Gently, he lifted her arm from where she’d been using it to clutch her thigh. Blood drenched her leg. The cut looked deep. Vibroblades were exceedingly sharp, cutting hard and fast. They could easily slice right through light armored clothing. The chestplate she wore would have given it more problems.
“Any other injuries?” Ghost asked.
“Mostly bruises.” She rapped her knuckles against the chestplate. “This thing stops a lot of hits, but it definitely leaves some bruises behind to remind you of them later.”
Ghost laughed softly, and Mercy shook her head, looking at Reaper.
What the hell? He's spent this entire trip doing nothing but making snide comments and being suspicious of her.
Reaper gave a shrug. She helped Cannon survive. Maybe that was enough for Ghost.
Maybe. It still felt like a fast turnaround. Was it too much to hope that grumpy Ghost would finally give them a break and they’d get the old Mateo back? The one who laughed often and seemed sleepy all of the time?
Reaper, sensing her thoughts, looked thoughtful. Perhaps. He has good reason for his anger. It may still be with him for some time to come.
You’ve never said why. It wasn’t the first time she’d prodded him for information about what was troubling Ghost, but she hadn’t asked in a long time. This was the most forthcoming Reaper had been on the subject.
He hesitated, then seemed to reach a decision. His brother was one of those who left with the Alpha Queen.
Shocked, Mercy barely kept from gaping at him. She’d seen the lists of people gone, but there were a lot of names, and many pirates went by nicknames, which made it harder to know who they all were.
Phantom? Wasn’t he one of Dem’s dogs?
Yes. Reaper shook his head. The newest.
I would never have thought… she let the thought trail off, unsure what to say. She would never have thought someone handpicked by Dem would belong to the Alpha Queen. It didn’t matter. Most people hadn’t even realized they’d answered to the ancient queen. Phantom, like many others, hadn’t had a choice.
Watching as Ghost patched up Feria, Mercy couldn’t help but wonder what these last months had been like for him. They’d lost their mother years ago to the virus that had killed so many, and their father had died in battle less than a year later. From what Ghost said, he’d been needlessly reckless. Killed, essentially, by his grief. Mateo and his brother, Alvaro, were close. To lose him, too, must have been awful.
We’ll get them back, she said to Reaper. We’ll get them all back. She hoped she was telling the truth.
“You two look like you ran into trouble as well,” Cannon observed.
“Just a little,” Mercy said sardonically.
“Strange, how focused the attacks were. Out of everywhere on this whole planet, they end up here, with us. Seems extremely specific.”
“That’s what we thought,” she said.
Uneasiness filled Mercy. Someone had tipped off the mercs and slavers on where they would be. If not Feria, chances were high it was one of her people, and wasn't that going to be a fun conversation?
“This door isn’t going to open itself,” Declan called from the end of the tunnel.
“Yes.” Cannon’s voice sounded weary as he pushed away from the wall. “Let’s see this door.” He made his way to Declan and Mercy explained everything they’d tried.
“There has to be a way inside,” Cannon mused, looking at it. “Obviously Sebastian’s Talent would be useful here.” He slid a look at Mercy. “I don’t suppose you could borrow it?”
“I can try.” According the Lilith’s lessons, she just needed the connection with the person to borrow their abilities. But she couldn’t feel Sebastian at all, and she’d never tried under those conditions.
Mercy took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She put a hand on the door, and thought about her connection to Sebastian. She imagined him here with her, his smile, his soothing presence. She had shared his Talent many times. It was one of Lilith's favorite training techniques. It had become so familiar, that usually it slid into place with little effort.
She waited to feel the objects and mechanisms around her become more, to feel the glow as her mind connected with her datapad or — hopefully — whatever controlled the door in front of her.
But none of that happened.
Disappointed, she shook her head and let her hand fall.
"No," she said. "It's not working. Maybe it’s because his Talent is being blocked right now.”
“What do you mean?” Cannon asked, frowning.
That’s right. In everything that had happened, she’d forgotten that no one knew about her conversation with Lilith. She glanced at Declan, uncomfortable talking about her link with her dead grandmother in front of him.
“I mean, if he’s in stasis, maybe I can’t reach his Talent.”
But she switched to telepathic communication for Reaper and Cannon, and outlined what had happened in the battle. She left out the argument with her grandmother about asserting control over her, and focused on what she’d learned pertaining to Sebastian.
Reaper went cold and quiet.
There are no Killer/Hunter mixes other than Dem, he said after a moment.
Apparently there are. Mercy wasn’t sure why it was the one thing he’d focused on. It’s a big damn galaxy, after all.
He sent her a distracted look. His gaze was distant. He was clearly thinking of something.
What is it? she asked.
Remember that story you told me? he asked. The one about the agricultural garden you and Pallas stopped at, and the Killer who came and forced you to flee?
You think this is the same one?
How many Killers have a Hunter’s ability to track? His expression grew darker and darker. You’re in incredible danger. This man will never give up.
A chill went up her spine, but she shook it off. That’s a problem for another day, she said. Right now, we need to figure out a way beyond this door.
"Well this is lovely," Feria said as she and Ghost came to stand with them. "We've found the place but we can't get inside. Shall we just stand around out here until something comes along to kill us?"
"Not the best plan," Mercy said. She shuddered, thinking of the creatures she and Reaper had fought.
“Perhaps it was keyed to only open for specific people,” Cannon suggested. “A genetic lock?”
“That would really suck,” Mercy said.
“If that’s the case,” he continued, “we should all try to open it in whatever way we can. Pushing, searching around the edges, using telekinesis. A genetic lock, even generations removed might still respond to one of us, if we’re fortunate. Some are keyed to specific family lines, like Bloodline Jewels.”
Mercy stepped back and gestured for Reaper to take her place. “As I’ve already tried, be my guest. Ghost and Declan have already done their best, as well.”
She watched as Reaper went through the same motions she had, with just as little luck.
"Let's look for another way in," Ghost suggested. "We can circle the building. Who knows, maybe half the back wall isn't even standing anymore."
Mercy was doubtful. Whatever this thing was made of, it seemed far more durable than anything else on this planet.
>
“In a minute.” Cannon stepped up to the door. He hovered his hand over it and closed his eyes.
“We should split up into teams,” Mercy said to Ghost. “We can circle both ways and cover the ground twice as fast.
An audible click came from the door.
Everyone stared as it slowly, smoothly, slid open.
“What the hell just happened?” Feria asked.
“I suppose one of my ancestors must have been among those who created this place,” Cannon said, staring into the newly opened entry.
“Aren’t you and Mercy related?” Feria asked.
Mercy went hot and then cold, her heart thudding in sudden alarm. Cannon casually flicked a glance her way and she froze, anxiety a tight ball in her gut.
He could feel her emotions. Why did that make her panic even more?
“Not on both sides,” Cannon told Feria. He lifted a shoulder, dismissing the question, and then went to step inside.
“Wait.” Reaper put a hand on his arm. “You don’t go first. Neither does Mercy. Ghost, Declan, you’re with me. Everyone else, wait here.” The three of them disappeared inside. Light from the outside only illuminated a few feet within, and then all was darkness. And that light was rapidly disappearing.
With some alarm, Mercy realized the sun was setting. A lot of predators hunted at night, and they’d already seen how deadly one variety could be. She did not want to be standing out here when night fell.
Out on the street a faint glow began to illuminate. The bioluminescent night lights of the city had survived all these years after all. Amazing.
She felt Cannon’s eyes on her but she didn’t look at him. Damn. She should have had this discussion with him long before now. Instead, she’d let it simmer and now everything was awkward. Heat suffused her face.
She forced herself to turn to Feria. “How’s your leg?” she asked.
“Better. Ghost was surprisingly helpful.” There was a puzzled note in the other woman’s voice. Her gaze focused on where Ghost, Declan, and Reaper had disappeared to. Clearly, she was just as confused by the dog’s sudden turnaround as Mercy had been.
