Premonition: A Space Opera Adventure Series (The New Dawn Book 7)

by Valerie Mikles

  “Maybe that’s their curse. Or maybe they are Questre,” Collette said, her heart sinking. “In league with the spirits just as you feared from the start.”

  “Before he blocked me, I saw something in his past. Someone who bought and sold cursed powers. It is possible that the corporeal spirit was not their target. That they’ve come for us,” the Prince said. He rubbed his face. It was the first time Collette had ever seen him worried or tired.

  “I keep seeing the Palace fall,” Collette said, adding to his ominous warning. “Doctor Gossard.”

  The man hadn’t moved since she’d come in, but he reached for his medical bag.

  “I don’t need treatment. I need answers. This is the second time you’ve witnessed this spirit attack someone,” Collette said.

  “Yes,” Gossard said. “Sky was attacked by it.”

  “Your niece was present both times,” Collette continued.

  “The one called Amanda took my niece,” Gossard said. When she’d spoken to him yesterday, she felt convinced he was hiding something, but now he just seemed lost.

  “Was that before or after the spirit appeared?” Collette asked.

  Gossard’s eyes drifted side to side, and he rubbed his neck. There were bruises that she hadn’t noticed until he touched them. “Before.”

  “Is it possible the spirit flew off with the traveler and the doctor’s niece?” the Prince of Law asked, his brow furrowing as he looked into the other man’s mind.

  “Yes. That’s it exactly. Amanda had a knife,” he recalled.

  “Sky’s wounds were not like the other victims. They were much shallower. It’s possible the two women were in a drug-induced altercation with each other when the spirit appeared,” the Prince of Law surmised. “I couldn’t read anything about how she got the wounds.”

  “No. No Amanda disappeared. Then Sky was wounded,” Gossard said slowly.

  “Did you speak to them last night like you intended?” Collette asked.

  Gossard blinked and cocked his head.

  “He managed a dance with the Madame Captain, took her to a bed, and then ran off. That’s what happens when you rely on candy,” Torrance spoke up.

  “I became convinced that she was a Questre,” Gossard said.

  “And you didn’t report it?” the Prince of Law growled.

  “I’m no longer convinced,” Gossard said. He smirked at the Prince, like he was proud of his forgetfulness.

  “Useless,” the Prince spat. He paced in a circle, then turned to Collette. “His memory has been clouded. He doesn’t know. Magistrate, if you’ll allow me—”

  “Yes, go. Bring in the rest. Without the nooses,” Collette ordered. She was about to dismiss Gossard, too, but decided he needed the recovery room more than she did, and she motioned Torrance to follow her into the hallway.

  “Jeremiah mentioned that Amanda showed him a picture of a corporeal spirit. Hand drawn,” Collette said. “It doesn’t surprise me that she found what she was looking for. But if they’re not here to kill it, then do they mean to help it?”

  “Does it matter?” Torrance said.

  “Gossard’s niece was taken,” Collette said. “Everything else they’ve done has been about escaping the Palace and finding the creature. That piece doesn’t make sense. Didn’t you say we caught four? The Fotri. Maybe he said something more to Corin. Where is he?”

  “They were found at the textile facility where the Prince keeps his design work,” Torrance said. “Dispatch knew Corin was likely to be with one of the travelers, so they informed the Prince of Law directly when they got the emergency call.”

  Torrance hesitated and Collette’s heart leapt into her throat.

  “What kind of emergency?” she asked, dreading the answer. “Did Corin get hurt?”

  “There was a fire. The sprinkler system became clogged and it didn’t come on in time,” Torrance said, his eyes clouding with sadness. “By the time the Prince of Law got to them, both men were dead.”

  A wave of visions hit, and Collette fell to the floor, clawing at her eyes. She didn’t see the Palace fall. She saw her son, in his textile shop, dancing with his child. He’d been so afraid of last night coming, and now because of that traveler, he was dead. And Torrance had waited until now to tell her!

  “Kill the rest of them,” Collette said.

  “Magistrate, no. You are in distress. You do not get to make this decision,” Torrance said.

  “What are you going to do, Torrance?” she growled, shoving him aside. Torrance wrestled her back to the chair, but Collette pulled a vial from her robes and smashed it against his face. She’d seen Corin’s future. He had to be wrong!

  Corin came to with a mouth full of blood and the familiar feel of bruises from a bad beating. Only this time, it wasn’t just his body that ached. They’d struck his face, too. The grass was rough against his cheek and he heard the murmuring sound of running water. He was no longer in the burning textile workshop; he was by the river! Corin’s eyes shot open, and he swore he saw a gator slide into the water across the bank. He tried to scream but hacked up soot and the sound earned him a swift kick in the ribs.

  “Oh, good. I was hoping you’d wake up for this,” Officer Belgard crooned. He had dragged Corin out of the dome and the sunlight beating down was already burning Corin’s fair skin. Corin could scream all he wanted, but no one would hear him. Between the river and the hillside, the sound would be lost. Corin rolled onto his back, crushing his bound arms, reeling from the pain in his rib cage. The Prince of Law hadn’t stayed around to witness this part of the crime.

  Douglas was stripped and bleeding, tied to a stone weight. He kicked and flailed, trying to break free, screaming through the gag in his mouth. His eyes were bruised and swollen, and his unevenly sheared, red hair matted with blood. The word ‘Fotri’ was carved into his arms along with other shameful slurs. Belgard gloated as he rolled the stone on top of Douglas, making space for Corin to be tied on the opposite side.

  “No,” Corin croaked, pulling his knees under, trying to inch closer to Douglas.

  Sneering at Corin, Belgard wiped his long knife blade on the grass threateningly. “I should not have let you live this long, Fotri. And since you refuse to burn, you will sink.”

  Corin’s eyes widened. In three swift steps, Belgard charged over, grabbed Corin’s shirt, and sliced navel to chin, cutting skin and fabric with no regard. Corin screamed and the tattered rag of his garment was ripped away and stuffed into his mouth to silence him.

  “The Magistrate said to separate you, but I think you two deserve each other,” Belgard sneered, drawing circles on Corin’s cheek with the blade, nicking the skin. Then he struck Corin with the butt of the knife and tossed him on his side, scraping his skin with the outline of the words he would soon carve. The knife pierced flesh and the wounds stung.

  Good riddance. He had said that about the eight Fotri who’d died in the fire last Festival. Even if Corin’s body was pulled out of the river, they’d see the word carved into his skin, and all anyone would think was ‘good riddance.’ He should have taken the Etna last night like he’d planned and ended his life on his own terms.

  He felt Belgard’s knife carving the skin from his legs. In his time apprenticing with the shepherds, Corin had seen a woman mauled by wolves. She’d lost her right arm below the elbow, collapsed a lung, broken three vertebrae, but she’d still saved her sheep, walked them back to the pen, and made it to the kitchen to call for help before she collapsed. She didn’t die. The human body could withstand far too much abuse, and Belgard knew that the pain he caused wouldn’t kill Corin.

  “It hardly seems enough for the hideousness you’ve gotten away with,” Belgard snarled. Sweat mixed with blood making the sting of the cuts even worse. He danced the blade in front of Douglas’ petrified eyes, then he kicked Douglas over, rolling him into the river.

  “You don’t die with him. You watch him die!” Belgard shouted. “See what you’ve allowed to happen!”<
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  Douglas bucked as the weight pulled him under. It took only seconds for him to disappear under the water and the river was clouded red with his blood.

  Corin heard a strange sound, like a fuse blowing. A nearby tree exploded in dust, flecks of bark, and the scent of burning wood. Belgard dropped to the ground, swearing, using Corin as cover. He drew his pistol and fired one round, then ducked again. Then he dragged Corin to the water and tossed him in.

  Corin yelped as the chilly water hit his bleeding, bare skin. He felt himself sinking and tried to roll onto his back and stay afloat. With every breath, he felt pain in his rib cage, and when he struggled, he could feel his wounds opening wider, oozing blood into the river. He didn’t want to die.

  30

  Tray zig-zagged, splitting away from the others, and rolling to the ground. The sound of the projectile brought back fresh fears, pain in his gut, and frustrating memories of weeks in rehab. Saskia fired her stunner and Tray peeked up to make sure that neither she nor Morrigan had been hit. They’d been circling the dome, looking for an easier place to cross the river when Saskia smelled blood and they heard the screaming.

  Tray saw the body go into the water, and his first fear was that it was his brother. He shed shoes and clothes as he ran to the river, and he dove in, skimming the rocks on the shallow bed. This was not a boat channel like the waterways through Quin. Saskia could handle the battle on land. Tray had to save his brother!

  When Tray grabbed the man, he could tell immediately that it wasn’t Danny. The frail man flailed and whipped his body, trying to get loose of his bonds or kick his way to the surface. His head knocked hard against Tray’s chin and Tray lost his grip. Frustrated, Tray grabbed the man by the hair and yanked him toward the surface. The water was getting deeper and the current pulled them hard. Tray stopped feeling resistance from the man, and both of them gasped when they reached the surface.

  “Hold still. Let me do the swimming,” Tray ordered, trying to ignore the pain in his jaw. The man had a gag in his mouth, and he gurgled and coughed. His face was bruised beyond recognition and his skin covered in open cuts, making it difficult for Tray to keep hold. Despite the awkwardness of the bonds, Tray was grateful they kept the man from climbing on top of him and pushing him under.

  Tray moved slowly toward the shore, keeping steady pace, knowing by the shouts that he hadn’t been pulled too far from the others. He heard splashes of water as Saskia and Morrigan waded in to catch him, and he shivered as the weight was lifted from his body. They’d heard at least two people screaming—at least two bodies going into the river.

  As soon as Morrigan had a hold on the man, Tray ran to the shore, heading up stream, looking for that spot where the first person had gone under. He didn’t know how long it had been, but he’d never forgive himself if he didn’t try to save the other one. He dared to open his eyes under the water and found the cloud of blood. Closing his eyes again, he reached out, found flesh, and pulled. The skin was flayed and slippery, but he felt around and found a rope that gave him more traction. He was already aching for breath, and the weight of the body was too much. Planting a foot on the rocky bed, he felt the skitter of bottom-dwellers across his skin. He tried to lever the body up, but it was weighted down.

  Shoving off the bed, he zoomed to the surface for air.

  “Saskia!” he shouted, swimming to the shore. “I need your knife.”

  She handed him her knife without question. Tray wasn’t sure how to swim with it. He didn’t have a sheath and didn’t dare tuck it into his clothes. Saskia wasn’t a swimmer, so he was on his own. Taking a deep breath, he dove again, found the body and the rope tying it to the anchor, and sawed through.

  Saskia’s knife was sharp and cut so quickly through the rope that Tray sliced his hand. The pain and the lack of oxygen had him seeing stars. There was not enough time or air. The impulse to inhale was overwhelming. He grabbed hold of the person. The body was heavy, slick with blood, and stripped naked.

  What the hell is wrong with these people?

  A pinching crustacean hitchhiked on the victim’s bleeding skin, and Tray felt more clamping to him. They were getting eaten alive!

  Then he felt an arm loop around his chest, pulling him to the surface. He held tight to the victim, letting whoever was behind lend him strength. He gasped for air when he reached the surface and immediately flipped onto his back, bringing the other body up.

  “Oh, Zive. It’s Hawk,” Morrigan said, pulling the two to shore with long strokes. Saskia waded in and grabbed for Hawk, using her stunner to shock the crustacean away.

  “Hawk,” Tray whimpered. His hands were shaking, but he gripped Saskia’s knife like his life depended on it.

  “All of you out of the water,” Saskia said. “I don’t know if that creature can move on land, but I know it came because it smelled blood.”

  She pointed to a long, scaly creature making its way up the river.

  Morrigan worked on resuscitating Hawk and Tray took her knitter, trying to close the wounds on the other victim.

  “I think we’ve solved the mystery of why a dome with fresh river water has no potable drinking water,” Tray said. “Next time, I’m wearing swim trunks under my clothes.”

  He looked over at Saskia to see if she smiled at the comment. He needed her to smile at him. Touch him. The fire and pain returned to his torso, mixing with the jitteriness of adrenaline. They still had to rescue Danny.

  “Wait, that’s the Prince of Textiles!” Tray realized as he healed the man’s face.

  “Who else would Hawk be with?” Saskia said, backing away from the bank, weapon still on the reptile. Her leg pressed against his arm, and he felt a fresh surge of energy, but also the ache of weariness.

  “I have a plan,” Tray announced.

  “Is it better than the last one?” Morrigan asked.

  “You mean the ‘let’s walk to the Palace and see if the fresh air inspires a plan’ plan? Yes, much better,” Tray said, rubbing his hands together. “Although, this plan worked out okay. We got Hawk.”

  “Plan A. That never happens,” Saskia smirked. Tray loved how her eyes glittered.

  “Saskia, you need to get the uniform off that guard.”

  “What did I tell you about stealing uniforms? This is already a bad plan,” she snapped back.

  “You need to get close enough to the Palace to lay down some explosives,” Tray explained.

  “Where am I supposed to get explosives?” she cried.

  “Isn’t your story that you got lost in a vineyard and made a weapon out of grape stems?” he pointed out.

  “I wasn’t lost,” Saskia mumbled.

  “The Prince is our leverage. He’ll survive, right Morrigan?” Tray asked.

  “His mutilation isn’t as bad as Hawk’s, and he didn’t spend nearly as much time in the water, but he’s been beaten badly. He probably has internal injuries,” Morrigan answered, glancing over to check Tray’s progress. “I’m not sure this plan worked out for Hawk.”

  “Morrigan, we need the Prince—”

  “Don’t tell me how to prioritize my patients!” she seethed. “If you want to pretty up his face while I save Hawk’s life, go ahead.”

  Tray ducked his head, ashamed that he’d even implied Hawk’s life wasn’t worth saving. Shrugging out of his wet shirt, Tray offered it to Morrigan to help cover Hawk and offer him some dignity. Tray’s jacket was on the other side of the reptile-infested river. But he saw Hawk’s precious flight jacket on the ground, ripped, but not beyond repair.

  “The Magistrates will trade the others for their son. But not if they think we beat him,” Tray said.

  “Ransom?” Saskia asked.

  “Not ransom. Prisoner exchange. I don’t pay for what’s mine,” Tray said.

  Amanda awoke in pain, and she clutched her stomach as extreme cramps attacked. She tried drawing her legs close to her chest, but her muscles quivered and resisted. She felt the blood soaking through her white dress and
twitched in disgust. Bunching up her coat, she found the pocket with her meds, and took a booster so that she wouldn’t get triggered too badly. She was by the water, and the subtle glow told her she was in the other realm again. Crawling to the bank, she dipped a hand in and tried to rinse off her legs. There were bugs all around, drawn by her blood, but there were no people. She closed her eyes and tried to sense something. Anything.

  “Sky! Layna!” she hollered.

  She saw Layna swoop low over the river.

  “Layna!” Amanda called, trotting along the bank. She pulled Henry and tried to make the sun glint in her direction. When that failed, she waited for Layna to swoop lower and she chucked a rock. She wasn’t sure if she hit Layna, but Layna yelped and landed.

  “What’s going on? Where’s Sky?” Amanda asked.

  “I don’t know. I tried to bring her. I tried… I don’t know why I couldn’t do it this time,” Layna moaned, squatting and wrapping her wings around herself. She sobbed softly. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. Uncle Haren tells me to do things, and I just do it. It must have been for the best.”

  “How long was I out?” Amanda asked.

  “I don’t know,” Layna griped.

  “Ten minutes? Ten years?” Amanda asked.

  “More than ten minutes. Less than a day,” Layna replied.

  “Okay, I need to get back. But this time, back to my ship. Not that house. Let’s go,” Amanda said, pushing Layna’s wings aside and tugging her hand.

  “You can’t order me around. Stop talking to me like I’m a child!” Layna cried, jerking free and throwing herself on the ground.

  “You are a child. Come on. The ship should be this way,” Amanda said, dragging her to her feet and forcing her to walk. Layna made her feet heavy, but she responded to the prompt. By Johann’s stories, Amanda knew she’d been just as irritating as a teenager, and she felt sad that she’d never remember on her own.

  “How will you know when you find it?” Layna complained. “It’s all trees in this realm. There’s no city. No landmarks.”