by Lili Zander
“That was all you. I just pushed the button.”
He grins. His dimple flashes into view again. All I want to do is reach for him. Touch him. Two days without the vampires, and I’m desperate and needy and so turned on.
Focus, Raven.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see two of the pursuing ships blow up, one on either side of us. Saber and Zeke at work. Nero throws us in a steep dive to avoid the debris, firing his missiles at the same time. His accuracy is deadly. Another ship erupts in a flare of blue light. “Three down, three to go.” Once again, his thumb strokes the flight stick, and once again, a shiver of heat runs down my spine.
“Anyway. That’s pretty much it.” Nero picks up his abandoned story, and I drag my attention away from his hands. “Saber’s mission was to bring stability to Merin, not hunt down a gang of slavers. He did it anyway. I spent years trying to figure out where my mother was. Zeke found out in an afternoon.”
Zeke’s snort sounds through the speakers. “An afternoon? Don’t be insulting, Nero. It took me half an hour.”
Despite the seriousness of the situation—we’re smack-dab in the middle of a space battle—I can’t help smiling. On Boarus 4, I caught glimpses of the camaraderie these men shared, and it’s one of my favorite things about them. They’re a team. They take care of each other.
Nero veers us sharply to the left. A fighter appears in my cross-hairs, and I adjust my joystick and press the red button again. It sounds so easy if I don’t think about it too much. Just like the sim-games I was sometimes allowed to play in one of the middle-sector arcades. Not too often though; my father didn’t like it. Life is sacred, Raven, he’d lecture me when I’d pleaded to go with Arnie and his friends. Those games encourage violence.
My shot is only somewhat accurate. I clip the wing of the fighter. Smoke pours from it, and it spins away from the battle, out of control. “Will they be fine?”
“Probably.” Nero sounds indifferent to their fate. “Unfortunately.”
There were eight fighters at the start of the fight. We’ve taken out five. Gratvar’s hanging back, his serpent-ship staying out of range of our guns. He’s letting his men fight for him while he hovers in safety. Coward.
Saber and Zeke fire again, brutally efficient. Two more fighters blow up. I exhale, releasing the breath I didn’t know I was holding. We’re almost done. Almost there. Soon we’ll be able to board the cargo ship and save those poor, trapped people.
Then Hiram Gratvar does something that changes everything.
His ship fires.
Not at us.
At the cargo ship.
The ship carrying his slaves.
For a second, two seconds, I stare blankly at the viewscreen. I can’t believe what just happened. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
The cargo ship looked like a long, rectangular box. Now, one side of it is on fire.
“Good friends.” The slaver sounds smug. Triumphant. Evil. “There are two hundred slaves on the Ruby Rose. My shot took out their main OGS. They’re on reserve tanks now. In less than an hour, they’ll run out of air. So ask yourself, are you ready to watch them die?”
My blood goes cold. Gratvar is a monster.
I turn to Nero, hot words of anger on my lips. Then I catch the expression on his face, and my rage evaporates.
Nero’s eyes are glassy. Sweat beads out on his forehead, and his fingers tremble.
“Nero?”
He doesn’t respond. He’s not here anymore. He’s somewhere else, somewhere dark and deep and endlessly cold.
Time slows to a crawl.
Saber had anticipated this. He’d known this might happen. He might not have been able to guess that Gratvar would shoot his own cargo ship, but he’d been smart enough, aware enough, to predict that Nero might react this way.
He’d asked me to alert him if something happened to Nero.
I don’t need to panic. I don’t have time to panic. I have to follow instructions.
“Saber, I need you on the flight deck.” I’m shocked at how steady my voice is.
“On my way.”
“Drop your shields, Albatross.” Gratvar’s hateful voice fills the cabin and echoes around me. “Drop them now. Or my next shot takes out the reserve tanks.”
Nero’s gaze is blank.
The last fighter has peeled off to the side. The move prickles at me, and then I realize why. It’s so Gratvar has a clear shot at us. He doesn’t mean to board us when we drop our shields. He means to blow us out of the sky.
I’m acting before the thought has fully coalesced in my mind. I wrench free of my harness and throw myself at Nero, slamming my left shoulder into him. The impact knocks him sideways. His elbow hits the joystick.
Time stands still.
My palms turn slick with sweat. The only sound is that of my harsh breathing.
Then the Valiant lurches. Does a one-eighty turn. Everything loose and untethered slides to the left.
Including me.
Great Spirit, what was I thinking? I’m on a spaceship in the middle of a battle. Without the harness…
Time speeds up again. An explosion rocks our craft. I’m thrown forward, and I slam into a wall. Hard. It might just be my imagination, but I swear I can hear bones crunch.
We’re falling. Spinning. We’re out of control. My fingers try to grab something, anything, but I can’t. I’m thrown about like a stray piece of paper in a windstorm. Over and over, I hurtle into the walls of the cabin.
My body is a world of aches and bruises. My vision is going blurry. No, I tell myself. Hold on. Nero is in trouble.
Belatedly, I spare a thought for Saber. He was on his way to the flight deck when we started to spin. He’s already injured. Is he okay, or is he going through what I am right now? Are the orbital forces using him as a punching bag, the way they’re using me?
I want to give up. Sink into the ocean of pain, and let myself drown. I can’t fight anymore. It just hurts too much.
Then I feel someone grab me. A strong pair of hands yanks me back before I can catapult into the next wall. Nero pulls me onto his lap and wraps his arms around me. “I’ve got you,” he whispers into my ear, and the world narrows to just the two of us. For an instant, I don’t feel pain. I don’t feel fear.
I just feel… him.
With one hand still protectively holding me tight against his rock-hard chest, Nero fires his weapon.
The Valiant is still spinning. Still falling. It’s a one-in-a-million kind of shot. The instant he shoots, I can see it in his expression. He’s missed.
Jets of light streak by. Gratvar’s firing at us, over and over. But just as our dive has prevented us from getting a good shot at him, he can’t get us in his cross-hairs long enough to aim.
“Shields at 10%,” the ship’s computer warns us in a monotone.
Nero readies the joystick to fire again, but before he can, a bright, white beam streaks toward Gratvar, illuminating the sky in its wake. And when it reaches the slaver’s ship, it explodes.
Gratvar’s ship disintegrates into a million tiny pieces.
Nero does something to the Valiant, and it steadies.
My pulse slowly returns to normal, but my fear doesn’t retreat. We didn’t shoot Gratvar. Someone else did. But who?
I turn around and stare at Nero. “What the hell just happened?”
Saber and Zeke hurry into the cockpit. Saber’s bandages are soaked with blood. “It’s not important,” he forestalls me. “I’m fine. Nero, did you take Gratvar out?”
Zeke swings into a seat and starts playing the recording of our firefight on the screen. Nero shakes his head. “I couldn’t get a clear shot. I’m pretty sure I missed.”
“You did.” Zeke freezes the viewscreen. “The shot came from the other side of Gratvar’s ship. Someone was lurking there, out of range of our sensors, watching the fight. They didn’t intervene until it looked like we were in trouble.”
Unease skitters up my spine.
“Maybe it has nothing to do with us. Maybe our mysterious benefactor was hunting Gratvar.”
“If they were, they’d have joined the fight from the outset.” Zeke swivels his chair and faces Saber. “Ragnar wouldn’t have stayed on the sidelines. This person, whoever it was, stayed hidden the entire time. Stayed in the shadows, waiting and watching. Levitan wants Raven. He sent us; we failed. Who would he have sent next?”
Saber’s face wipes free of expression. “Marya,” he says, his voice terrible. “He would have sent Marya. The most skilled assassin in the Shayde Empire is after us. And she wants you alive.”
She’s after me.
They’re looking at me, all three of them, with barely concealed expressions of panic. They’re not afraid for themselves. They’re afraid for me.
I should be terrified. Death rushes toward me, swift and sure, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I’d be damned if I’m going to cower in front of Saber’s ex-girlfriend.
I straighten my shoulders. “Nothing’s changed. We stick to the plan.”
5
Raven
It’s not that I’m being particularly brave about Marya—I’m not. I just can’t let myself be afraid. It’s like being on the ice desert of Boarus 4. The rules were simple: If we stopped to think about the enormity of Glacis, fear would overwhelm us, and we would die.
All I can do is put one foot in front of the other. Right now, we have more important concerns than the assassin. Saber’s wound is bleeding again, and judging by the way he’s cradling his right hand, he’s hurt his wrist.
More urgently, the oxygen re-generator on Gratvar’s cargo ship, the one filled with people that the slavers abducted from their homes, has been destroyed. We need to help them before they run out of air.
Saber marches me to the sickbay. “We can’t help Gratvar’s captives if we die of our injuries,” he announces.
“That would have never struck me,” I reply, fluttering my eyelashes at him. “It’s so… obvious.”
His gorgeous blue eyes twinkle. “Really? That’s how we’re playing it?”
“Mm-hmm.” I have another snarky retort on the tip of my tongue, and then I notice my forearm is bleeding. I must have cut myself when I bounced around the Valiant. “Don’t come near me,” I gasp, jumping back in alarm. “You could die. I’m bleeding.”
He doesn’t even flinch. “Where?”
I show him my arm. “Not too deep,” he responds calmly, handing me a disinfectant-soaked gauze. “You must have cut it on the instrumentation. Here, clean it off.”
“Seriously?” I gape at him. “This is my blood. Why aren’t you running shrieking from the room? You saw what happened to Olaf Vander.”
“I never shriek,” he says, keeping a straight face. “It’s against Army regulations.”
Argh. Spirit save me from arrogant men. I roll my eyes. “Saber, that’s very admirably brave, but you’re not immune to this virus. I’m a walking plague. You shouldn’t be here.”
He gives me a deeply exasperated look. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard of in my life.” He shakes his head. “Walking plague. Where do you come up with these things? Raven, you’re hurt. I’m going to take care of you. For the virus to affect me, your blood has to come into contact with mine. I’m not reckless. I’m being careful.”
I’m going to take care of you. I can’t decide if I want to scream at his stubbornness or melt at his kindness.
“Sit,” he continues. He bandages my cut and then pumps me with a cocktail of vampire blood and painkillers. It’s like magic. I go from bruised-and-aching to alert-and-ready in minutes. I jump back on my feet, and Saber fixes me with a glare. “You need rest,” he says sternly. “Your body needs time to heal.”
I refuse to be weak and frail. “As does yours,” I point out. “I don’t see you lying down.” I wink at him. “You’re not my superior officer. I don’t have to listen to you.”
His eyes glitter. “Is that so?” he asks, low and dangerous and sexy as hell.
That tone. It sends a lighting jolt of lust straight to my core. For a second, a fog of utter need swamps me and short-circuits every cell in my brain. I forget about Marya. I forget about the slave ship. I forget about everything but him. “What are you going to do about it?”
He takes a step toward me. His hands rest on the wall on either side of my body, caging me in place. His gaze bores into me, stealing the breath from my lungs. “So brave,” he murmurs. He dips his mouth to my neck. “So defiant.” He brushes his lips against my throbbing vein. “So sexy.”
My breathing hitches. I stare back at him. He’s a predator, and I’m prey, and at this moment, I want nothing more than to be caught by him.
Zeke’s voice crackles through the speakers. “Saber, we’ve got trouble.”
Damn it. Thwarted.
We return to the cockpit. Zeke has taken a seat next to Nero and is reading a screen of instrumentation readouts. “We took some damage toward the end.” He swipes through screen after screen of data. Maybe it makes sense to Saber, but it’s all gibberish to me. “They hit our long-range communications array. We’ve lost access to the InfoNet.”
Saber groans. “That’s all we need. Dock up to the cargo ship, Zeke. Let’s see if we can figure out where Gratvar took them from.” His expression hardens. “In the meanwhile, set our shields at maximum strength. Any sign of Marya, shoot to kill. And find us a safe place to land for repairs, will you? Somewhere that won’t ask too many questions about the Valiant.”
Zeke grins. “Is that all, Colonel? Not a problem.”
Nero lifts his head up. Darkness still tints his eyes. “I’m coming with you to the cargo ship.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Nero’s gaze turns stormy. “I’m not asking for permission, Saber. You shielded me from the worst of it when we went to find my mother, and I will always be grateful. But I’m not a child. I know what evil lurks in the galaxy, and I’m not afraid to face it.”
“You are one of the bravest people I know,” Saber replies tightly. “This isn’t about courage.”
No, it isn’t. Everyone has the one thing that will wreck them. This is Nero’s. Saber opens his mouth to protest, and then catches sight of the look on Nero’s face. “Fine.”
“Can I come too?” I ask.
“No. Absolutely not.” Saber moves close to me, so close that I can feel the heat of his body. “I've been on slave ships before. This is not a place for you. Let me shield you from the ugliness that exists in the Empire.”
I inch closer to him and stare him squarely in the face. “What can you shield me from that I haven’t seen before?”
His expression turns stricken. One step forward, two steps back. Regret twists in my gut. I didn’t mean to hurt him. I want to cross the chasm that exists between us. But I’ve made things worse.
“You’re right,” Saber murmurs after a pause. The corners of his lips tilt up in a small smile. “But maybe you should put on some pants first.”
A startled laugh bursts from me. “Okay.”
I was sent to the re-education camps when I was ten. I’ve seen guards throw children into a blizzard and wager on who’s going to make it back home. I’ve seen people beaten to death for an extra ration of food. I’ve sold my body for a warm blanket.
What can you shield me from that I haven’t seen before? I asked Saber, confident that there was nothing there that could shock me.
It turns out that I’m wrong. Terribly, horribly, wrong.
Gratvar’s cargo ship is full of children. Human children. Some of them as young as three. None older than six. All of them in stasis in the cargo hold.
Saber’s face looks like it’s carved from a block of ice. Nero turns dangerously brittle, a rock that will shatter into a million pieces if hit the right way. “Where were you headed?” he asks the pilot of the cargo ship, a huge hulking giant of a vampire, easily six and a half feet tall, and three
hundred pounds of solid muscle. “Where were you taking these children?”
“Banrilia.”
Saber clenches his fists so tight that his knuckles turn white. “You were taking children to Banrilia.”
“What’s Banrilia?” I whisper. Not for the first time, it strikes me how little I know about anything. Information was tightly restricted on Boarus 4. Humans weren’t allowed to study history, politics, or current events. The holos showed carefully curated content. Overlord Zimmer was many things, but he wasn’t a fool. Knowledge was power, and he took care to keep his workers ignorant.
The slaver signs his death warrant. “Let me guess,” he sneers. “You’re a do-gooder type. You think what I’m doing is wrong. I have a buyer lined up. Fix the OGS, and I’ll cut you in. Fifty percent. It’s a good offer.”
Darkness swallows Nero whole. He moves, quicker than a s’kal cat. He picks up the slaver and slams him against the wall, hard enough to bend the plasteel. “They’re children,” he grits out. Slam. The ship rattles. “You knew where you were taking them. You knew what waited for them in Banrilia.” Slam.
The slaver swings a wild punch at Nero’s face, but Nero moves out of the way and brings his knee up into the slaver’s groin. The man bends over, gasping with pain. “Get up,” Nero says coldly. “You’re a fucking coward. You prey on the weak and the defenseless. It ends here. It ends now.” He removes his weapon belt and hands it to Saber. Strips off his shirt. There’s a methodical, hypnotic, rhythm to his movements. “I am going to take you apart. I am going to break every single bone of your body. How many children are you carrying?”
The hulking vampire gets to his feet, murder in his eyes. “Two hundred,” he spits out. “You think you can beat me in hand-to-hand combat? Bring it.”
“Two hundred,” Nero repeats. “Two hundred times, you’re going to plead for mercy. You’re going to beg me for your life, over and over again. But there will be no mercy today. I’m not weak. I’m not defenseless. And today’s the day you are going to die.”
