by Pearl Foxx
Rayner had made a horrible mistake.
In the pit, Savas dragged his opponent closer, fangs exposed.
Drausus twisted. He narrowly missed the clash of Savas’s teeth. In a desperate move, Drausus tucked his legs and flipped Savas over his head. The illegitimate royal landed on his back with a ground-shuddering slam. His claws released Drausus, and the younger Vilka attacked. His claws raked across Savas’s exposed stomach.
Savas yelped, blood spraying the air. The carnage seemed to drive Drausus into a frenzy. Roping cords of saliva hung from his mouth as he lunged at Savas, snapping at flesh and limb for any bite he could land. He drew more blood in his mania but hit nothing vital as Savas blocked each move.
Drausus grew so focused on getting another taste of flesh that he’d completely dropped his defenses. When the Vilka reared back for another useless lunge, he exposed his throat.
Savas sliced through Drausus’s skin with such an easy effort it was perverse. Arterial blood jetted from the wound.
Drausus collapsed, gurgling on the packed dirt, both hands clutched to his throat.
Savas faced the downed man, his golden eyes aflame. Blood still dripped from the wound in his abdomen, darkening the churned dirt. The crowd had grown deathly silent as if a single enormous beast was holding its breath for the final blow.
Drausus thrust a hand out toward Savas. “Please,” he begged, the words wet and choking. “Spare me. Please.”
Savas pounced, and Drausus’s screams took on an edge of insanity, his limbs flailing as Savas closed his jaws over Drausus’s face. The screams cut off. With a shake of his head, Savas ripped the flesh free.
Swallowed it.
Then Savas continued feeding.
Rayner cursed under his breath. If Savas had had even a sliver of humanity left in him, the fight had ripped it from him. Savas was broken.
The crowd murmured in half-hearted disgust, but their eyes devoured the sight as if they couldn’t look away. Savas, however, seemed to have attention only for Rayner, staring directly at him, a rope of entrails hanging from his mouth. The Vilka chewed a few times as if daring the Beta to tell him to stop. Then he turned his head and stared pointedly at the section of humans a moment before burying his head in Drausus’s entrails once again.
Rayner shivered.
“Why is Kaveh allowing this?” Gerrit leaned back and whispered to Rayner.
Rayner shook his head. He knew exactly why Kaveh was allowing the flesh feeding to happen in front of the entire clan. “He wants to sow disgust for Savas amongst the clan. He wants them to see Savas reduced to eating raw meat, to cannibalism.”
“I don’t think it’s working,” Gerrit whispered, his eyes roving over the crowd. They didn’t look disgusted; they looked hungry. Rayner had to agree with the young heir.
Caj, who’d joined his brother on the end of the bench, spoke up. “I’d rather a Hyla for my father’s brother!”
“Caj, hush!” Gerrit cast a glance at the still-rigid Nestan on his other side.
Without a glance at any of the others on the platform, Kaveh rose and disappeared through the door he’d come from. Nestan leaped to his feet and followed close behind as if he’d only been waiting for permission to leave. Gerrit grabbed Caj’s arm and led his brother away, whispering harsh words into the young man’s ear. Rayner was left sitting alone on the platform, facing the ceremony’s aftermath.
Man or beast, Savas was now the Omega. The lowest of the low among the clan.
Savas lifted his head and howled.
The crowd went wild, a discordant clash of howling, cheering, and booing. Savas stood, hands held wide, chest flayed open in diagonal tears. Barely an inch of skin existed that wasn’t smudged with blood. How much of it was his and how much his opponent’s, Rayner couldn’t be sure. The new Omega strutted about the arena as if he were the glorious gladiator who’d just won the crowd’s affection instead of becoming the dregs of the clan.
Taking that as his cue, Rayner rose and left the amphitheater.
15
Vera
Before the Omega Selection even began, Rebeka caught Vera’s eye. With a quick glance toward the Vilka guarding them, Vera gave a slight nod. The plan was on.
The hope of leaving transformed Rebeka’s gaunt, pale face into one of stunning beauty. She was ready. Vera trusted Rebeka’s piloting competence to get Isma and Niva back to the station safely and send back help for the rest. They’d worked through all the details countless times over the week leading up to the Omega Selection. Everyone knew their role in the escape.
Vera would lead the women to the combat pods. She’d seen the map in person, unlike the others, and knew the tunnels leading toward the southeastern pad by heart. Rebeka would pilot a combat pod, taking Niva and Isma with her. As for the other women, they would remain behind, covering for the absent women until Vera could sneak back and resume her place in the boxed area as if nothing had happened. By the time the Vilkas realized some of the women were gone, it would be too late to point the finger at Vera or any of the remaining women. They would be safe from exile until help returned.
That was the best-case scenario. She didn’t want to consider the worst.
Beside Vera, Niva took her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. During the planning, Niva had been reluctant to leave Vera behind, even going so far as to offer her place in the pod to the other women. But Niva needed to be home with her family and far away from the members of the clan who shared Drausus’s interest in the women.
As much as Vera wanted to see Drausus and Savas punished for their crimes, she knew this might be the women’s best chance of getting home. She caught Rebeka’s eye again. The strawberry-blonde pilot could barely hold back her grin.
As the Alpha began his speech, Vera eased toward the back row, watching to see if the guards would notice her movements. When she felt confident they were fully engaged with the show, she gave the signal.
Drifting away at different moments and from alternating sides of the boxed area, Niva, Isma, Rebeka, and Vera slipped away with the remaining women acting as shields. Keeping their heads low and their demeanor submissive, they crept behind the guards and out the main gate.
Rebeka glanced back toward the pit. “Step one is done. The dumb bastards.”
“We’re going home, girls!” Isma whispered excitedly.
Refusing to think about Rayner, Vera led the way through the back alleys of the stone enclave, leaving the cheering to fade into the distance. The streets were nearly empty of travelers, and her time in the servant tunnels had paid off as Vera slipped in and out of them when she thought certain areas of the street might be patrolled by guards. But no one noticed the movements of the servants, their faces and hair hidden beneath shawls.
They climbed down to the lowest levels of the city, counting off turns and trying to match landmarks from Vera’s memory. The cold stone reflected the overhead illumination with a sort of out-of-body glow that made Vera feel like this must be a dream. The narrow tunnels pressed closer around them the lower they got.
Isma whispered in a harsh voice, “Are you sure we’re going the right way?”
Rebeka shushed her. Vera bit her lip, continuing to move as if she knew what she was doing, but fear and doubt filled her chest. These women were counting on her to get them to safety. Their lives were on her, the burden causing her memory of the tunnels to cloud over in confusing swirls and second-guessing.
But when they came to an underground river, Vera let out a silent breath of relief. She hadn’t gotten off course. Before they waded in, Vera peered into the roiling water. The surface, at least, seemed to be free of any flesh-nibbling creatures. “We climb down here and follow the river until we get to a hatch about three hundred yards ahead.
“There’s no light that way.” Isma’s voice trembled.
“You’re certain this is right?” Niva added.
“Do you want to turn back?” Vera asked the two women, not unkindly. If they turned ba
ck now, they might be able to talk their way out of any questions.
Before they could answer, Rebeka clambered over the bridge railing and dropped with a splash into the shallow water. She glared up at the others. “We go now, or we never go. This is it. If they find out what we’ve done, there won’t be another chance. So get down here before my feet freeze off or sit up there and wait for them to find you. It’s your choice.”
She didn’t have to be so pushy about it, but Vera was forced to agree with Rebeka. In silent agreement, she followed. The moment she touched the water, the frigid current cut straight through her clothing and instantly numbed her bare feet.
Pausing only a second longer, Niva hoisted herself over the railing and climbed down the rocks with ease. She moved like a dancer, elegant and sure. When she dipped her toes into the water, she didn’t even shiver, just walked out past Vera until the stream rushed past her shins.
“It’s not deep,” the girl said, giving a rare smile.
“Come on.” Rebeka scowled at Isma until the last woman climbed down and stood shivering in the water.
“Move quickly but keep your feet in the water,” Vera cautioned. “We don’t want the sound of splashing to carry in these tunnels.”
Vera led them away from the safety of the servant’s well-lit tunnels into the gloomy corridor molded by the passage of water. The rocks below the surface were uneven and slippery, and she had to place each step carefully to avoid falling over. The stream narrowed and became deeper with each unsteady footstep. When the water reached her waist, her teeth began chattering, but she forced her body to continue. Darkness enshrouded them like a cloak, and she reached a hand back to find Niva’s, linking them together for both safety and comfort.
Their small group slowed down, the cold sapping their energy and their resolve. Ahead, a dull glow illuminated a spot along the river where the bank sloped upward toward an exit. “We’re almost there,” Vera said. “I see our exit.”
A terrified scream echoed off the walls and was cut off with a loud splash. Vera spun, eyes wide in the dim light. Isma bobbed by, disappearing and reappearing at the surface, a garbled gurgling the only sound.
“Isma!” Niva cried as the young woman bobbed past them, caught in a current that sucked her deep into the shadowed depths and away from their exit.
Without thinking, Vera dove into the deeper water. When she surfaced, she swam as hard as she could, reaching with each stroke for Isma. Far downstream and well past the lit exit, Vera paused, drawing up in the water and glancing around. She gasped for air while the current tried to push her deeper down the passage. The darkness made it impossible to see, but the lack of sound told her Isma must still be under water.
Cursing, Vera dove again, reaching and grasping for anything along the bottom. Perhaps Isma had gotten caught in the larger rocks at the base of the river. Vera doubled back, keeping her eyes wide open beneath the murky water.
Warm flesh brushed her searching fingertips, and she clamped her hand around a limb, kicking for the surface. Her feet scrabbled against the stony bottom. She dragged Isma’s limp body upward to bring her head above the surface. She couldn’t see, so she pressed her ear close to the woman’s mouth and listened for a breath, all the while treading water to keep them both upright as the current pushed them ever farther downstream. A sputtering groan told her the woman was still alive.
“Isma! Can you hear me?”
“Thank you,” Isma coughed out.
The end of the tunnel loomed ahead. A massive metal grate closed off the section but allowed some light to penetrate the tunnel.
“No problem,” Vera said, flooded with relief. “We have to get you home to your daughter.”
A soft smile flickered on Isma’s face.
The water slowed, its force disrupted by the grate ahead. The trek back upstream was going to be a challenge. “Hold on tight. We have to get back to the exit. I’m going to use the wall to keep our balance.”
“Is that your hand?”
“What?”
“Your hand. Aren’t you touching my leg?”
Vera frowned. She only had one hand on Isma’s arm. She held up her free hand, which she was using to tread water. “I’m not touching your leg.”
Isma choked, suddenly flailing in the water. “Someone’s here!”
A splash of water surged down Vera’s throat. She sputtered and struggled to keep both herself and Isma upright. Then she felt it too.
A brush of cold flesh. Fingers.
Against the grate, hair floated along the surface. It stretched toward them, slinking dark atop the brackish water that churned from Isma’s struggle.
“Holy shit,” Vera chattered, swatting at the hair. She kicked off the grate, and her feet sank into something mushy. Slimy. Putrid.
The body bobbed to the surface, and a bloated face leered at Vera, teeth exposed in a rictus of death. The eyes were milky on a pale face, bits of skin chewed away by the fish.
Isma’s mouth stretched wide to scream. Before the sound could escape, Vera clapped a hand over the woman’s mouth. They couldn’t afford discovery now. Not even as they fought to escape the clutches of a dead body.
Oh fuck, oh fuck, Vera thought. The body had to be a servant, one intending to escape, to use the tunnels like Vera and the others were. Gagging, she swam backward, Isma helping now too as they both fought to get away.
The body terrified Vera. It seemed like an omen to her, like what could have been. What had she been thinking to bring the women down here? She should have found a better plan, a better way to get to the pods, or she should have just told the other women that escape was impossible. Being a servant would be better than being responsible for the women’s deaths.
But, of course, just because she wasn’t willing to risk their lives for freedom didn’t mean the other women weren’t ready to die in an effort to escape.
As they fought their way upstream, she glanced back at the grate. The corpse was splayed against it, the underground river’s current pinning it like an insect on a specimen display, never to be buried or honored, never to even be remembered. Vera didn’t know who it was, but she found herself hurting for the person who had only known freedom in death.
They slogged back to where the others waited at the exit, exhaustion, grief, and responsibility weighing Vera down even more than her soaked clothes.
“Vera, we found it,” an excited Niva whispered, her bright eyes coming into focus first and then her dark features.
“It’s a hatch similar to what we use in the maintenance tunnels on the station,” Rebeka said. “I think we can jimmy it open without setting off any of the sensors. You okay, Isma?”
Isma gave a tight nod as Rebeka and Niva helped them onto the ledge. Isma was shaking violently, and Vera shuddered.
“What happened?” Niva asked.
Vera glanced at Isma. Sharing the details wouldn’t help anyone and might only add to the terror. “Nothing. We just got caught against the grate.”
Isma nodded in agreement.
“Let’s get on with it then. We don’t know how long the Omega Selection will last,” Rebeka said. “Ready for me to open the hatch?”
Vera nodded, and the woman worked against the heavy metal door until she could eventually push open one side with a creak that vibrated off the walls. Vera looked over her shoulder as the women lifted themselves through the opening ahead of her.
They crawled up the slanted narrow tube that should lead to the southeastern pad. She kept crawling, hands and knees aching. Ahead of her, Isma moved slowly, but she was alive. Vera brought up the rear, darting glances over her shoulder as if she might find someone following after them, bright Vilkan eyes gleaming in the dark.
The tube curved left and then took a sharp incline. Soon, instead of crawling, they were using the indentations in the tube as footholds and handholds. They climbed for what felt like days, until Vera’s already tired limbs trembled, and she worried she might slide all the way bac
k to the bottom of the shaft if she wasn’t careful. How long had they been moving? Would the clan still be at the Omega Selection?
What was she going to tell Rayner about her absence?
Finally, when Vera’s hands began to cramp, another hatch appeared above them. Rebeka jimmied it open, and light spilled into the shaft, along with the unmistakable breeze of fresh air.
“We made it,” Niva called to the rest of them as she pulled herself free of the hole.
They emerged into an open area with stone walls and no roof. Enormous black glass doors embedded in the mountainside were the only other entry point to the pad. Overhead, the aurora streamed green and purple across the night sky. Between the ribbons of color, the velvet night glistened with stars so bright it felt like Vera might only reach out and touch them. As beautiful as the Vilkas’ mountain was, the one thing they could never recreate was the sky.
Vera hadn’t realized how much she’d missed it until now, staring up at the flickering aurora.
“What is this stuff?” Rebeka asked, bringing Vera’s attention back to the flight deck. Corroded, warped hunks of metal were scattered around in no apparent pattern.
“Something happened here,” Isma said, touching a half-sphere that reached her waist, blackened streaks and pits marring its outer curve. It rolled to the side at her touch, revealing what appeared to be a burnt seat positioned in front of a twisted hunk of metal that could have been a gun. Once. More circular-shaped bits of metal were thrown about, all with guns inside them.
“Oh shit,” Vera whispered.
“Are these the pods?” Niva asked.
“They don’t look like ships,” Rebeka said. “I don’t see any hull material.”
“How are we going to leave?” asked Isma.
Ignoring them, Vera rushed from one deformed shape to the next, pushing them over, looking for anything that would tell her what had happened here. Rebeka was right—there was no sign of hull plating. All the pieces were parts of seating or electronics or weapons. But if they were weapons, they’d done nothing to stop this destruction. Some of the metal had been melted, while other portions had been pitted and scarred by some corrosive substance.
