by Carysa Locke
Thirteen and Akyra approached the ship cautiously. Just because it was down didn’t mean the people inside weren’t a threat. She glanced at Akyra in unspoken question. In response, the girl raised a hand, all five fingers splayed. Five of them.
Yes, that tracked with what Thirteen felt as well. The question was, what were they, and were they conscious? The ship’s external damage wasn’t catastrophic, but it was bad enough it wouldn’t be flying again anytime soon. It would take time to repair, and that was exactly what Thirteen wanted. Time to collect her quarry and get off this planet before the pirates could hope to follow them.
They circled the ship, still wary. With good reason, it turned out. A thrum of sound made them freeze. The ship’s ramp was lowering, a clunky, manual movement. Akyra summoned her soul blade, and the two of them flanked to either side as it slowly descended. Thirteen motioned for the girl to stay her hand and wait.
She needn’t have bothered. The figure standing at the top of the ramp waited without moving. A familiar voice said, “I’d hoped for the chance to see you again.”
Treon didn’t seem worried when she raised her rifle and aimed it at him. He cocked his head, arrogant as ever. “I’d rather we talk, if you don’t mind.”
She considered. The planewalker could be a valuable asset.
Akyra, she sent. We’re taking him alive. This one is of interest to our Queen.
She could practically feel the girl’s disappointment.
“How many more on your ship?” she asked the question more to see if he would lie to her than anything.
“Oh,” he chuckled. “They’re all a bit banged up, I’m afraid. And trapped. That crash did some internal damage. I was lucky enough to be on the right side of a bulkhead that came down, or I wouldn’t be standing here.” He gestured behind him. “You’re welcome to look for yourself.”
Akyra. The girl swept up the ramp, giving Treon an unreadable look as she passed him. She came back a few moments later.
He’s telling the truth. It’ll take them time to dig out.
“If you want a conversation,” Thirteen said, “You’ll have to come with us.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
She eyed him suspiciously, but he stared back with a guileless expression.
Watch him, she told Akyra. He’s tricky. And, because she wasn’t at all certain of the girl’s stability anymore, she added another assertion that he needed to remain alive.
Akyra rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue.
An eerie sound resonated through the mist, and Thirteen tensed.
“I suspect we want to move quickly,” Treon said as he walked down the ramp. He triggered the manual control to raise it again. “We don’t want to be here when those creatures arrive.”
“Creatures?” Thirteen frowned.
Akyra sneered at Treon. “Afraid of a few monsters?”
He gazed back at her seriously. “Yes.”
Gooseflesh prickled along Thirteen’s skin. “Let’s move,” she said.
The closer they got to the ship, the thicker the dust and dirt in the air. Cannon took the lead, and Mercy let him. Her brain was still fuzzy, while his Talent could sense enough emotion to help pinpoint which direction to take. She hoped.
Mercy stopped when he did. The world had abruptly gone eerily silent. A prescient awareness whispered to her, and she turned, crouching.
Cannon, down.
He started to crouch. Blood sprayed the air and Cannon flew forward as though punched by an invisible force a second before the sound of a shot rang out.
“No!” Mercy threw herself prone. Cannon was down, so still her heart gave a sick lurch.
Movement over the rocks made her freeze. Even as her heartbeat hammered in her chest, new terror seized her. She hadn’t noticed, her gaze locked onto Cannon, but inches from her face a familiar shape rose out of the dirt and mud. She’d very nearly thrown herself into a patch of fungi. She remembered the spores, and tried hard to keep her breathes shallow.
Cannon. He didn’t respond and she fought back fear.
A low groan reached her. Relief crashed through her. He was alive. Oh, thank the mother.
Boots scraping over stone reminded her their enemy was still out there, and moving closer. Carefully, she levered herself up onto her knees. Her head must be getting better, because she could suddenly pinpoint the mind behind her.
Cannon rolled to his hands and knees, swaying unsteadily.
Cannon, don’t move. He stopped moving, but swayed like he might fall again at any second. How bad was he hit?
The other mind crept closer. Mercy took a deep breath and held it. She reached out with her telekinesis and carefully scooped up a handful of fungi. He was practically on top of them. The barrel of a long gun nudged her in the back.
“Stand up, your majesty,” a male voice said mockingly.
She couldn’t speak, too afraid of inhaling spores. She started to stand. The gun barrel swept toward Cannon, and she threw the fungi at the figure behind her.
“What the—”
The deadly bundle hit him full in the face. He stumbled back, and Mercy backed hastily away as he coughed, inhaled, and coughed again.
As before, the reaction happened fast. He dropped his rifle as blisters boiled over his skin, followed by tiny shoots of orange and green. He stumbled around like a drunkard for a few seconds, eyes wide with horror. He reached for her.
“You—” The word choked off and he fell, fungi springing up all across his body.
His mind went dark.
Mercy turned away, her stomach churning. She made her way to Cannon, careful to keep watch for more of the deadly fungi. She knelt down and helped him to his feet. “How bad?” she asked.
“I’ll make it.”
“Let me see.”
He shook his head. “We don’t have time. Can’t you feel it?”
His words sent a rush of foreboding through her. “Feel what?” But even as she said it, she knew. She could feel the familiar glow of their minds, still distant, but moving quickly. The monsters were coming.
“Sebastian.”
Hand pressed to his wound, Cannon nodded forward. “He’s this way. And he has someone with him.”
“I know. We don’t have time to be subtle.” Jaw tight, ignoring the pounding in her head, Mercy dropped the hold she usually kept on her Talent. It spilled out of her like an overflowing cup, the heat familiar and welcome as it slid over her skin. Loosing her power was no longer painful as it had been that first time. It washed over Cannon, loving like an embrace, and then flowed to Sebastian and the mind that waited with him.
Mine, she thought, and felt Sebastian snap back into place like a puzzle piece returning to where it belonged. The power cradled him close.
The other mind was more difficult. He belonged to someone else.
No. The power seemed to have a life of its own when she let it loose like this. It wrapped around the man — Koal — pushing at that other bond. With a cry of pain, he fell to his knees. He clutched his head. Mercy’s power fought to tear him free of the other claim. He tried to throw a shield up, but she tore through it like wet paper. He screamed.
A second later, he fainted. Her claim was strong. But Mercy was determined to take him. The power burrowed into his mind, each for the root of the other claim—
“Mercy!” Cannon was standing in front of her, his face smeared with dirt and mud, his eyes wild. “Stop, we have to grab Sebastian and go. Now.”
She blinked at him. “I have to—”
“Mercy. We have to move. I can’t carry him.”
Sebastian. She wouldn’t leave him here. She pulled the power back. It came sluggishly, as though unwilling to listen.
Finally, the world snapped back into focus. Her Talent was back behind her walls. The creatures were almost on them.
“They’re here,” she said, and ran to Sebastian.
Chapter Nineteen
“The Enclave,” Mercy said. “If we can r
each it, we’ll be safe.” As close as it was, the distance felt insurmountable. Mercy had seen how fast these things moved.
Cannon nodded, the movement oddly stilted. “I’ll keep them off us.” His brow creased with concentration.
The creatures ringed them, at least five. She felt more out there, gathering around other groups of people, other minds.
She couldn’t think about that now. Weariness pulled at her, held at bay only by the adrenaline pounding through her body. She had three immediate concerns: Cannon, Sebastian, and herself. She had to trust the others to be all right.
Anxiously, she glanced at where Sebastian lay beside them. He was still unconscious, wounds riddling his body. She hadn’t been able to look too closely before the creatures were on them. The beast in the lead shook its head and huffed, pacing back and forth with aggressive steps. It seemed confused. Whatever Cannon was doing worked.
“How long will that hold them?” she asked, keeping her disruptor trained on the creature. Somehow, it had survived having a building fall on them, unlike her pack.
“Hopefully long enough.” His voice shook with either pain or the strain of using his Talent. “We need to move.”
Behind the creatures, Koal stirred awake. Mercy had forgotten all about him. He groaned and lifted his head, his eyes widening when he saw the creatures. One of them turned toward him, snuffling the air with its long snout.
He vanished.
Well, wasn’t that just great for him?
“Mercy,” Cannon said in a singsong voice from behind gritted teeth.
She couldn’t lift Sebastian with strength alone. He was far too heavy, his bulk a dead weight she could barely budge. Fortunately, she wasn’t limited to mere physical strength. She used telekinesis to lift him off the ground, and began to pull him down the street, backing away from the creatures as slowly as she dared. She tried to ignore the drops of blood that dripped from his wounds and fell to the ground.
Cannon paced her, his hand pressed to his side, his breathing labored. Fear beat a staccato rhythm in her chest. She could feel her blood pounding in her temples, adrenaline rushing through her veins and making every second heightened to a razor’s edge of survival awareness.
They moved like this, slowly and carefully, back down the street from the direction they’d originally come. They backed away slowly, the creatures following, stopping to shake their heads or pace or jump away in confusion every few steps. The worst parts were when they had to climb over obstacles. It slowed them further, and Mercy didn’t know how much more Cannon had in him. It hadn’t really been that far, but right now each step felt like an eternity.
She knew Cannon was using his empathy to keep the creatures back, but she could also feel his strength failing. She had no idea how badly he was hit. In her mind, she saw the shot hit him again, the spray of blood, the way he fell, punched off his feet. How he’d lain so still for far too long.
For one awful, endless moment, she’d thought Cannon was dead. Then he crawled to his feet and she could breathe again.
With a sick dread, she knew the wound was bad. If he went down, she wouldn’t be able to lift him and Sebastian, and keep the creatures off them. She remembered the horror of watching them hunt the slavers, and swallowed.
Being eaten alive was not how she wanted to die.
In the distance, they could hear the sounds of combat erupt. The hunting cries of more of these things, the sound of a plasma rifle going off, yells as Thirteen and her people fought back.
Reaper, where was Reaper?
Her last glimpse of him haunted her. He and Kieran fighting, moving in a deadly dance as the creatures closed in around them.
Her only consolation was that she hadn’t felt him die. But then, she couldn’t feel him at all. Reaper had always had a knack for closing her out when he wanted to. It drove her crazy, but never more so than in this moment.
Cannon’s breathing grew more labored.
Finally, they reached the building above the archives. All they had to do was get inside. The creatures were beginning to shake off their caution. Whatever Cannon was doing, they were less wary now, stalking ever closer. Soon, they would get the courage to attack.
Ten steps, and they reached the entry tunnel to the archives. Cannon stopped at the entrance.
“Go. Get the door open,” he told her.
She didn’t argue, but moved as quickly as she dared, still pulling Sebastian. His long hair spilled down like a silky ribbon, floating in the air as she guided his body forward. She jogged down the length of the tunnel and pressed her hand to the door.
“Vera!” She didn’t know if the AI could hear her. “Please let us in.”
The door clicked and slid open, and she exhaled in shuddering relief, shoving Sebastian through the doorway and lowering him as gently as she could manage to the ground. She was already turning around and sprinting back to Cannon. She found him leaning against the side of the tunnel, barely keeping his feet. Two of the creatures were slowly stalking in. She could feel the others above them, closing in along the top of the building. They could sense the weakness behind whatever he was still doing with his empathy.
They were almost out of time.
“What are you doing?” he demanded when she skidded to a stop beside him, drawing her disruptor. “Get inside the fucking Enclave, Mercy.”
“And leave you out here to become dinner for these things? Not happening.” She slipped in close to him, pressing her shoulder under his and wrapping her arm around his back. He was a good head taller than her, and she was tall for a woman. He felt cold and clammy where he touched her, and it occurred to her how pale he was beneath the bronze pigment of his skin.
“Lean on me, and start backing down the tunnel. If they rush us, they’ll run out of space real fast.” Mercy threw a telekinetic shield up in front of them. She aimed her disruptor at the closest monster. She had no idea what kind of damage it might do to these creatures, if it would even stun them, but it was better than nothing.
“Stupid, stubborn woman,” he muttered. “I’m expendable.”
“Not to me. Stop whining and move your ass.” When he didn’t move, she gritted her teeth. “If you’re not getting through that mother damned door, neither am I.”
“Sebastian—”
“Would kick your ass if he knew you were trying to nobly sacrifice yourself for him.”
Finally, his weight shifted onto her. She braced, and nearly went down anyway. Mother, how much did Cannon weigh?
“A lot,” he said, a thread of his usual amusement beneath the strain in his voice. “I’m a lot of muscle, and I’m wearing armor. Most women like that about me.”
“Ha, ha. Walk.”
They moved together, awkward with it. She listened to Cannon’s breathing and realized with a tremor of fear that he was close to passing out.
“If you go down, you’ll take me with you,” she told him. “I have to keep that telekinetic shield up. They’ll rush us the second you lose consciousness.”
“Should’a…left me.”
The lead creature crept into the tunnel. Each step moved a little faster than the last, its snout darting forward to catch their scent.
She and Cannon were moving too damned slow.
“Come on, what kind of pirate King are you?” she said, her tone taunting. “Wick could probably take you right now.”
“Don’t…insult me.”
Keep him talking, keep him conscious.
“I swear, if you fall down and get us killed, I will fucking haunt you the way Lilith haunts me.”
“That—just—mean.”
“Yep. I’m a mean, vicious bitch.”
Cannon’s foot struck one of the rocks they’d thrown earlier trying to open the door. He stumbled into her and she had a heartbeat of sheer panic while her feet tangled together and she tried to stay upright.
The lead creature gathered itself, and she fired at it, three shots one after the other. It stopped its charge,
bellowing in anger. Breath unsteady, she pulled on Cannon, willing them to cross the last little bit of distance.
Just a few more feet.
Cannon sagged into her, and she had no choice but to bolster her grip on him with telekinesis. At the same time, the creature snapped its teeth, and charged. Mercy gathered every bit of strength inside of her. She threw Cannon behind her, hoping it was far enough, and blasted a wave of telekinesis at the charging monster. They slammed together and the monster fell, rolled, and hit her square in the chest so hard the breath wooshed from her lungs. It knocked her back.
Mercy fell. As she went down, the entry to the Enclave flew by. She was inside. “Vera,” she gasped. “Close the door! Now, now, now!”
The door slid shut, too slow, as the creature ran forward. Mercy scrambled back, running up against a body on the floor behind her. Teeth snapped so close to her leg, she swore she could feel the thing’s hot breath through her clothing.
She’d lost her disruptor somewhere. Frantic, she yanked her legs back as the thing struggled to get through the door’s too-small opening, and the door continued to try and close.
“Vera!”
Turrets slid out of the wall divets.
“Stay down,” The AI’s voice directed.
The turrets fired. Bolts hit the creature, and it sizzled and turned to ash, the remnants drifting down to join the layer of dust on the floor. The door finally closed, dull thumps resounding from the other side as more of the creatures slammed into it.
Mercy’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell was that?”
“Plasma-E. Not actually plasma, but that is the colloquial name. It disintegrates organic material on contact.”
Tremors of reaction shook Mercy. That had been way too close.
It took her a bit to gather the strength and will to move. But they weren’t out of the woods yet. Worry and fear drove her to get up, to check Cannon with fingers that still trembled.
Out cold.
Vera shimmered into existence next to her. "Do you require assistance?"
Mercy, still far too keyed up, jumped and bit back a scream. "You can appear up here?"
