“She doesn't appear to be a prisoner by choice, Lance Ryan of Sector Ten.”
Silence.
“She is payment to Dimitri.”
Payment?
More silence.
“What is your business here, my tiny frog?”
The bloodling's face was hard but his eyes held a tender edge as he regarded her.
Frog?
Beth looked at the silent faces of other bloodlings, one of several demographics on Sector One.
They were all terrifying. One was known for its brutality. Ryan’s need for payment could only mean one thing: he had been jumping there to entering in illicit sports, barbaric bribes… any multitude of things.
Beth shored up her confidence, but he could scent her anxiety, his nostrils flaring, his eyes fast on her face.
“I… Ryan claims that my home world is in… upheaval.” Beth simply didn't know how much of what Ryan had said was true. The odds of it being all lies wasn't looking good.
“What does Papilio have to do with your presence here?”
Tell the truth. He’ll scent a lie. All bloodlings could.
“I was on a jump, and it went badly.”
The understatement of that was profound. Saying less was definitely more.
His eyes roamed the wounds of her face, the latest of which Ryan had put there.
“I smell his abuse on your face,” the bloodling said decisively.
He leaned forward and Beth tensed.
“I will not harm you.”
His nose skimmed her face, stopping at each wound, leaving none without his attentions.
When he finished, his face was like stone as it turned to Ryan.
“Leave.”
Beth could hear the pause, feel it.
“No, she is my prisoner to do with as I want. I was hunting her down when you bloodlings got in the way. This is Sector Ten business.”
Bullshit.
“Tiny frog,” the bloodling began.
“I am Reflective Beth Jasper,” Beth replied. She didn’t like or understand the amphibian nickname, but it made her uncomfortable.
Hades, but it all does.
“Jasper, like the stone?” His eyes held warmth as they touched her face, and Beth felt well, whole.
She gazed into those dark pools and everything became calm, clearer. “Yes,” she said, her mind growing fuzzy as she gazed into his eyes.
“Jasper!” pain split into her head, and she felt herself being pulled against the bloodling male.
“He had you in thrall that fast, mongrel.”
“Who do you call ‘mongrel,’ hopper?” The bloodling's response was immediate.
Ryan was quiet.
Beth's head tipped back, and the bloodling, who was close to Jeb's size, stroked the damp hair off her forehead.
“Shhh, Beth Jasper.”
Her mind told her to struggle out of his hold, to run from them all.
Then a vague instinctive response unfurled deep within Beth in answer to his touch.
That quickly, she knew what foreign blood she held.
It was not just any species in Sector One—but bloodling.
Still, in her heart, Beth was Reflective.
She would plan her future, not be taken in the ever-changing current between two sectors—and two males.
She was capable of great calculation.
Beth tentatively touched the pale-gray skin of the bloodling's neck; it was all she could reach.
Color bled across his cheekbones. Dark-ebony hair was tied at his nape, and it fell forward as he leaned to hear what she was going to say.
Beth rose on tiptoes, her palms on his chest for balance.
“Save me from him, bloodling. Don't let him have me.”
His nostrils flared as his pupils dilated in response.
“Never, blood of my blood,” he replied.
“Jasper—no!” Ryan yelled.
Beth turned in the arms of her new captor, staring Ryan down as bloodlings strolled casually toward him.
There was no pity left in Beth, only survival.
She would do what she must.
*
Jeb was frantic as fuck.
That prick Ryan had hurt Beth and taken her to Sector One. He could taste the tailwind. As if I had any doubt.
He kicked the broken shards he'd made of the door, and they skittered across the cheap floor covering.
He'd seen Beth’s eyes as Ryan's forearm lay pressed against her throat.
Jeb was haunted by the fresh memory of her wide eyes.
He would not have to be if he could just get to Sector One. His gaze went to Jacky.
“We need to go.”
Jacky was clearly shocked. “I'm not going anywhere with you crazy-ass loons!”
Jeb marched over to Jacky, his pulse a deep abiding pain in his throat.
“Listen and listen carefully.”
His eyes bore down on the Three teen. Jeb experienced a minor flicker of guilt, knowing how he would need to emotionally hack away at the boy.
But his soul mate was in danger.
Jeb's gut clenched at the thought of her in the tender care of that psychotic, Ryan.
Jacky's mouth clamped shut.
“Your parents are dead.”
Jacky's brows rose. “Really? Ya think? ’Cause I was totally there, dude. And it sucked ass.”
Jeb's eyes closed. He counted to ten.
Opening them again, he plowed forward, “You have no other guardianship, so it falls to me. My soul mate has been taken by a man that was tortured on Sector One for his transgression against her.”
Jacky's face fell. He was beginning to understand the magnitude of the situation. “Holy crap.”
“Yes,” Jeb said in a terse clip, hoping he'd reach him with reason.
“It is the most dangerous sector of the thirteen. I can't take you there. We'll have to return to Papilio…”
“That's now fucked up?” Jacky asked, the disbelief plain on his face.
Jeb let out the pent-up frustration in an explosive breath.
“Yes.”
“Well, as I see it, if that assjack, Ryan?” Jeb nodded, and he continued, “If Ryan was telling the truth, then anything could be happening there.”
“I will find Kennet and Calvin, and they can help me retrieve Beth.”
“If ya can.”
Jeb's fists clenched.
“Listen—Merrick, you're a bad-ass Reflective and all, but Ryan handed you your ass with that gun…”
“Stabilizer.”
His eyes sailed upward in a hard roll. “Whatever. And your girlfriend isn't without skills. Just in case you hadn't noticed.”
Jeb scrubbed his face. “I don't have time to defend the indefensible. Ryan took me by surprise. I've never had a fellow Reflective turn.” Jeb scowled.
“Beth is not my girlfriend.”
“She's something.”
“She is my soul mate.”
“How does that work?” Jacky asked.
“I don't have the time…”
“I can't help unless I know the why.”
Merrick caught a disbelieving bark as it escaped him, and it sounded as if he were choking. “You're not going to help. I will sequester you from harm in Papilio, collect reinforcements, and rescue Beth.”
Jacky folded his arms. “You think you got it all figured out, but I know ya don't.”
Jeb clenched his jaw.
“Let's go.”
“No. Piss off.”
Jeb moved toward him.
“I'd rather take my chances on Earth, than deal with all your stupid shit.”
Jeb's mind worked. He was honor bound to take the boy, who had been orphaned in part because of their interference.
He felt a stab of shame.
It didn't stop him from doing what he must.
“What of Madeline?”
The Three teen, who had just seen the death of his parents and brother within a year of one another,
lost the bravado that had been the glue keeping his emotions together.
“No,” Jacky said, his face crumpling.
“She might not be safe in Papilio,” Jeb pressed.
Jacky's hate-filled eyes latched onto Jeb.
“You bastard.”
Jeb couldn't deny the truth. “Yes.”
He stared at Jeb a moment more.
“Fine. Let's go.”
They walked to the bathroom, where the mirror captured their faces: Jeb's set in stone, the boy's resolved.
Jeb let the mirror, the purest conduit of transfer, guide them. A locator wasn't necessary.
They would be home to Papilio shortly.
Or whatever was left of it.
*
Jumping to Jeb's home world was usually akin to slipping on a comfortable pair of shoes.
Not this time.
He landed in the wood that bordered the vineyards and the greater quadrant of Barringer.
He and Jacky lay on the mossy floor of the wood, catching their breath. Jeb's eyes adjusted to the gloom, his heart hammering against Jacky's back.
“Let go of me.”
Jeb released him, and Jacky turned and stood.
Jeb's breath caught in his throat as he also stood and got a hard look at Jacky.
It was true then—all of it.
“What the hell is your problem?” Jacky asked.
“It has been five years.”
“Yeah? That's what numb nuts said.”
Jacky threw up his arms into the air and laughed. “Like his traitorous ass can be trusted.”
His eyes narrowed at Jeb's silence.
“Why are you lookinʼ at me like that?”
“You'll see when we get to my place.”
Jacky's eyes narrowed. “I don't like secrets, Merrick.”
Jeb turned. “Let's just see if my domicile is secure, and we can go over our… options from there.”
Jacky stewed. He seemed to come to terms with how limited his options were. He basically had none. “Eff—fine.”
They began walking toward town. Jeb stuck to the shadows, and Jacky followed him closely.
Twice, he fell down and swore. “I'm graceless! What the hell…?”
“Quiet.”
Another curse, then trampling after Jeb again.
When Jeb was finally within sight of his dwelling his stomach dropped.
Every window bore automatic bars, the main entrance had a steel-reinforced secondary door, and the roof had sprouted spikes through the thatching.
Jacky's mouth was agape. “What is this? Armageddon?”
“An apt analogy,” Jeb replied dryly.
“How do we get in? It's a damn fortress!”
Jeb lifted his thumb.
“Ah, yeah, that's right—you guys have pulse tech like us.”
Not exactly like.
Jeb was cautious, creeping along the building's shadows, not liking the absolute silence.
“This is creepy.”
Jeb agreed.
Finally, he came to the back entrance and slid his thumb into the pocket that housed the thumbprint-reader pad.
The door whispered open, and they slipped inside. When it closed behind him, Jeb skirted the elevator, taking the stairwell like a man being chased by the devil himself.
He heard Jacky follow him, not as smoothly as before, but that was to be expected.
After he’d placed his thumbprint to another pulse reader, his dwelling door opened.
Five cycles of dust greeted Jeb. The staleness of an uninhabited dwelling that was empty of life surrounded him like a decomposing cocoon as Jacky entered at his heels.
“Go to the cleansing room and look in the mirror. Not the short one above the sink, but the full-length one that hangs behind the door.”
“What? Why?” Jacky asked, slightly out of breath.
“It's easier.”
“You are so screwed up.” He stomped off.
But Jeb's mind was on Beth.
He barely heard the hoarse, surprised shout from the cleansing room.
Jacky was just suddenly there.
“Explain this,” Jacky said, running a palm over the surface of his body.
“It's been five years,” Jeb repeated, already walking to his bed to cram gear into his pack. He needed to find Calvin and Kennet—like yesterday.
“Merrick.”
Jeb turned.
“Tell me why I look like a guy now.”
Jeb's eyebrows jumped. “You need me to tell you that you're clearly male?”
Jacky sighed. “You're humor sucks donkey dick. Tell me why I was almost thirteen thirty minutes ago, and now I'm…”
“Nearly eighteen.”
Jacky threw up his hand in perceived relief that Jeb understood the crux of it. “Looks like it.”
Jacky was on the verge of manhood, over six feet, chestnut hair deepened to dark brown, his eyes the same jewel-like green they'd been since that first ill-fated jump to Three.
He'd skipped right over all his awkward adolescence and landed on the good side, gaining the muscles and height without the acne.
The arrogant edge that came with young-male territory remained firmly in place, Jeb noted.
“Time moved on here. You simply can't stay the age you were on Three when five years have passed on Papilio.”
“I'm not complaining. I look kick ass!” He flexed his muscles for emphasis.
Jeb did a slow perusal. He looked as he should.
Jacky noted, “You don't look any different.”
“I am Reflective.”
Jacky made a sound in the back of his throat. “Yeah, and that makes all the difference?”
“Yes.”
They stared at each other.
“What about Maddie? I thought you said she'd be safe.”
Jeb hung his head.
The females.
When his head rose, he clashed with eyes that held an artificially gained maturity they should not have had.
“Ya don't know, do you?”
Jeb shook his head. “We will ascertain much by just finding my comrades.”
“Are these backstabbers like Ryan…?”
“No, these are real Reflectives, not”—Jeb spoke to the floor—“not the Reflective Ryan has become.”
Jeb dare not let himself speculate about the ousted Rachett.
Jeb straightened, taking a look around his dwelling. He clapped Jacky on the back. “Grab some nourishment, I don't know when our next meal will come.”
“No offense, Merrick, but after five years—you don't have anything worth foraging for.”
Jeb clenched his teeth.
Beth.
“Let's go.”
“We're finding Madeline, right?”
Eventually.
“Yes.”
“Okay, let's blow this Popsicle stand.”
Jeb stood for a moment, translating the slang.
He nodded. “Let's.”
They left the way they'd come—in stealth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Beth held the flinch inside as Ryan fought off four bloodlings before the fifth and sixth joined in, bringing the Reflective to his knees.
Blood fell in a constant stream from his mouth.
His gaze locked on Beth.
“Don't look at her, hopper,” said a young bloodling, perhaps eighteen cycles.
“You shall not look upon our females.”
Beth did tense then. They were staking species claim on her.
Ryan wasn't finished, though. He caught the arrogant bloodling’s muscular leg mid-swing. He twisted the ankle, and the bloodling screamed in agony as Ryan broke it and surged forward.
Stopping a Reflective was nearly impossible. They had brought him down but not arrested his momentum.
He would get his hands on her.
They need more males.
Beth tore away from the male who held her.
She had thought seven against one was good
odds, but Ryan was a vicious fighter. He'd been the best in hand-to-hand combat in their class of twenty-odd recruits.
She bounded over the top of the sand dune, with Ryan in hot pursuit.
Beth was simply outclassed. If she were Ryan's size, she would have a chance, but pound for pound, inch for inch—it was too much disparity.
A strong hand clamped down on her shoulder and spun her around. Ryan's face was a pulverized mask of blood. Beth didn't hesitate, jabbing him in the throat with everything she had. She closed her eyes against the blood spray as he wrapped her lower body with his arms and slammed her onto the sand.
A hard surface would have broken her back. As it was, her teeth snapped together, but she found she still had breath in her lungs to scream.
She shrieked in Ryan's face, full bodied, releasing every bit of loathing, rage, and accumulated injustices in the long agonized wail.
He hesitated in surprise, and she bit the hand he’d clamped over her mouth, bringing her knee up as she did. Ryan deflected it with his own leg and spread her legs with his knees as she lay beneath him. He pinned her arms above her head with one powerful hand.
Her panic flared.
He's too big!
Beth fought in earnest.
Ryan flipped his bleeding hand off her mouth, and she bellowed into his face. He grunted as a foot landed on his rib cage like an interfering insect sting.
He wound his hands around Beth's throat, ignoring everything but ending her life.
She bucked her hips, but his knee kept her legs wide, splayed like a bug on a scientist's board, pinned and helpless.
Beth would have given anything for a reflection. Her eyes scanned the midnight blanket behind the pale moon and faded stars, her hands locked tight against his straining arms, pushing him off as he dug against her deeper.
Fight!
Beth's eyes began to get heavy on the forever twilight of the sky. Her hands fell away, plopping to the sand.
Her vision dimmed.
Through the slits of her fading eyesight, two hands clamped down on Ryan's neck.
Breathe, Beth commanded dimly.
The hands pulled Ryan off her, and eyes like the deepest part of night peered into her face, but she was too oxygen deprived to fight back.
Beth fought to hold on to her slipping consciousness, trying to swim against the tide of her abused esophagus toward healing oxygen.
She lost.
*
Beth was floating.
Between Death (#6.5): Dark Dystopian Paranormal Romance Page 34
