“Smart man.” Victory released him a tad, but stayed tense, ready to restrain him if needed. “You know what will happen if this boat continues to Calverton with him on it?”
“He’ll die,” he said. “Cap’n knows this, but made us lock him up anyway. Said we couldn’t afford trouble. But Asaron don’t deserve that. He’s been a good passenger, playing cards with the crew and the like.”
“Well, I’m here to relieve your captain of his problem,” Victory said, “and I don’t want to give you any trouble either. So you can either take me to him, or tell me where he is.”
“I’ll tell you, and then you better do something with me,” he said. “So I can tell Cap I resisted.”
“Fair enough,” Victory said. He asked for it. It was obvious Asaron had made quite the impression, which surprised her not in the slightest.
The man gestured toward the back of the boat, from the direction he’d come. “Follow the side all the way to the back, then take the first door you come to. Asaron’s locked in the second cabin.” He paused, looking apologetic. “I don’t have a key, and I don’t know who’s keeping it.”
“Thank you very much, but that won’t be an issue.” Victory released the man, taking a step back. “Asaron and I are in your debt.” He looked up, meeting her eyes for the single second she needed. “Sleep.”
The crewman dropped like a stone when he was hit by the mental push behind her command, and Victory grabbed him before he could thud to the deck. She lowered him into a comfortable sitting position, arranging his arms and legs enough akimbo to appear like he’d put up a fight before losing. Lying in the shadows, he wouldn’t be seen with a casual glance between the containers. She knelt next to him, recovering a bit of strength. Age brought added gifts to vampires, and she had discovered this one over the past few years. Asaron had urged her to improve it, saying practice would make it easier, but she was uncomfortable messing with people’s brains.
She peered outside the cargo area once again. With no one in sight, she crept out of hiding and headed to her left. The crewman had given perfect directions, leading her through a deserted section of the riverboat crew quarters. The outside door proved unlocked, so Victory knelt low before pulling it open. She peeked around the corner, but the passageway stood empty. Without unloading to do in Limani, the other crewmembers would be enjoying a quiet night before getting to Calverton around dawn.
Hugging the wall, Victory darted to the second door. She pressed her ear against it. Movement inside, footsteps pacing, no heartbeat. Asaron. She tried the knob, but the man had been right. Locked, and she without any tools to fix that. That was the problem with spur-of-the-moment adventures—no time to pack the essentials.
She rapped out a staccato beat on the door with her knuckles. The movement inside halted. She knocked a second time, repeating the code.
Relief washed over her when she heard the answering pattern. She backed away from the door, ready to kick it in. Drastic, but she didn’t see many other options unless she wanted to hunt down the captain for the keys. Mikelos would have to be ready to go when they came tearing back.
A door farther up the hall opened.
“Hands on your head. Now! Back away from the door!”
Victory raised her hands to either side of her head. She pivoted on her heels to confront the new arrival.
The crossbow aimed at her chest gave her a start. The crew had done their homework about fighting vampires and this man had come prepared. Shot with any accuracy, the crossbow’s wooden bolts were as hazardous to vampires as to anyone else. He kept a handgun holstered at his waist, but it must contain normal bullets rather than silver if he preferred the more unwieldy weapon.
The man dressed better than his more helpful crewmember, and when he shifted the crossbow to get a comfortable aim, Victory caught the glint of gold at his collar. She had the honor of meeting the captain, then.
He eyed Victory with a mixture of hatred and revulsion, a look she hadn’t felt in her own civilized city for years.
She heard a muffled shout from back on deck. They must have found her unconscious friend. Victory wasted no time when the captain’s fierce attention broke, diving for his legs. They crashed into the hallway wall.
He cried out in pain when they landed in a heap. The crossbow clattered to the floor. He made a quick grab for the holstered gun, but Victory was the quicker draw, snapping the stiletto into her hand and pressing it to his throat. He met her eyes and flinched away, looking to the side. But he dropped the drawn pistol.
With slow movements, Victory untangled herself from the man’s legs and crouched over him. Eyes not leaving his, she groped for the discarded gun at his side. Once she had a firm grip, she replaced the knife at his throat with the pistol. With a twist of her wrist, she resheathed the stiletto.
Rising to her feet, aim never wavering, she favored her prisoner with a glare honed by centuries of proving herself against larger mercenaries. “I want the keys to this cabin.”
The captain conceded defeat, lying on the floor as he did. Careful not to make sudden movements, he reached a hand into his breast pocket and withdrew a single key.
“Place it on the floor and push it over to me.”
He followed instructions, and Victory knelt to scoop up the key, never taking her eyes or gun off the captain. Taking a step back and reaching behind her, she slid the key into the doorknob.
With a small snick she felt more than heard, the door swung inward. “Asaron?”
A deep voice answered. “Right here, girl.”
She almost sagged with relief. “Grab your things, we’re out.”
“Way ahead of you.” A hand gripped her shoulder, and her sire darted past her into the passageway and to one of the other closed cabin doors. She focused on the captain at her feet but caught a glimpse of Asaron’s long red hair before he disappeared again.
More shouts from outside. They’d found Mikelos. “Asaron, we have to go!” Time to rescue the rescuer. She tilted her head toward Asaron’s former prison. “Into the cabin with you,” she told the captain at her feet.
He scooted across the floor on his rear into the small cabin. She gestured with the gun. He scooted back another few feet. She stepped forward to pull the door closed and lock it once again. That should help keep the barge off their tail for a short time once they made their escape.
Asaron emerged back into the hallway. He wore his familiar long leather duster over jeans and plain black shirt with his ever-present rucksack slung over one shoulder. Two sword belts looped over his other arm. Victory recognized the distinctive iron hilt of Asaron’s Schiavona, but not the other wrapped in fabric. “Bit overkill, don’t you think?” She led him back outside onto the deck. Asaron remained silent.
The rear of the boat was deserted, the deck railing and river spread out before them. She tossed the key into the water and listened for more shouts. “See anything?” Having Asaron at her side made her that much more confident. She had absolute faith that Mikelos could hold his own no matter what came up, but Asaron’s military experience dwarfed even her own.
“Nope,” Asaron said. “Got a boat?”
“How else do you think we got here? Mikelos is driving.”
“Could have been magic if you had the kids. Let’s get out of here,” Asaron said. “If you hadn’t noticed, they’re not too vampire-friendly.”
Victory led him back around the side of the boat. All the noise came from where she’d left Mikelos. They ducked between cargo containers, dashing through the maze toward the opposite end of the boat.
“Move, and we’ll cut your line. Where’s your friend?”
When she heard the voice ahead of her, she halted Asaron with an arm across his chest. She crouched and poked her head around one of the containers, not wanting to attract attention quite yet. Three men
stood at the deck railing with their backs to her. She couldn’t tell whether they were armed.
Then she heard Mikelos. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She recognized that tone of voice. Her daughter used it on her all the time when she tried to act the innocent. Now she knew where Toria got it from.
Mikelos continued, “Your captain made the arrangements for me to ferry a friend out here for him since you weren’t stopping in Limani.” Oh, she knew where he was going with this. She would smack him later, after she thanked him for stalling so well. “Guess he didn’t want to share.”
Her cue. Straightening, Victory strolled out from between two of the metal containers wearing her best innocent look. “What seems to be the problem here, gentlemen?” She flashed them a charming smile and sauntered toward the railing.
The center sailor sneered at her, revealing few teeth. “Who’re you?”
“Just a visitor. You can check with your captain. He should still be in his bunk.” Ignoring the men, she looked over the edge of the deck down to Mikelos. “Ready to go?”
Mikelos gave a curt nod before pulling loose the rope knot tied to their little boat.
When Victory swung one leg over the railing, the man of poor dental hygiene grabbed Victory’s arm. “Not so fast, girl.”
She smiled again at the man holding her arm, this time flashing a bit of fang. He yelped and jumped back. “I’m quite fast, thank you,” she said before dropping down to the boat, landing with a small rock of the vessel. “Take that as you will, but my husband might be a bit insulted!”
Asaron appeared next to the men at the railing above her. He tossed his rucksack and both swords down to her, then pitched himself over the edge of the boat to dive headfirst into the water.
“See ya,” Victory said up to the gaping sailors. She shoved the boat from the side of the barge when Mikelos revved the engine.
One of the sailors above her drew a pistol from his belt and took aim. “Get down!” Victory dropped to the deck, and a bullet whizzed past her head.
More bullets hit the water around them. Good thing Asaron didn’t need to come up for air.
The small fishing boat drew away at top speed, such as it was. There were a few more shouts from the crew, but they weren’t being paid to keep vampires prisoner. Victory was not inclined to complain when the shots ceased. Water lapped at her fingers, and she raised her head.
“This isn’t good,” Mikelos said.
The boat listed to the side when Asaron hauled himself on board. “Hey, Mik,” Asaron said. “Thanks for the rescue.”
“You might have been better off in the water,” Mikelos said, still staring at the bottom of the boat.
Victory followed the line of his stare. A bullet had cracked the hull, allowing water to flow in.
The fishing boat limped to the nearest shore thanks to frantic bailing and a lot of luck.
Asaron might be safe, but they weren’t out of the water yet. It had been a long day already if Victory was making puns that terrible, even in the safety of her own head. When the hull scraped sand, Mikelos cut the engine and Asaron jumped out. Water soaked them all from the knees down at this point, so Victory sacrificed her boots to help her sire. Between the two of them, they dragged the boat onto shore.
Asaron collapsed back onto the sand, and Victory avoided the temptation to join him. “How are we doing on gas?” she said.
Mikelos was examining the bottom of the boat as water drained out. “Not the problem. We might have enough to get back home at this point, but the boat itself isn’t going to make the trip. It’s not a leak. Looks like the bullet found a weak spot and now we’ve got a long crack.”
“Where are we?” Asaron propped himself up on his elbows. “And I don’t suppose either of you knows what time it is? I lost track, being locked up the past two days.”
Studying the lay of the stars, Victory said, “Not long till sunrise. As for where we are, I’m with you.”
“Daywalker?” Asaron gave Mikelos an expectant look.
Mikelos shrugged. “We passed Limani while you two were playing around on the boat. I lost track once the sailors found me.” He turned in a slow circle. “Nothing looks familiar. I’d say we’re no less than five miles from home, but that’s too far to walk in the time we’ve got left.”
The small sandy shore led to dense trees in the full leaves of summer, but held no landmarks Victory recognized. Mikelos was right—they had no way to ensure they would make it back to Limani before the sun. She eyed the boat sitting lopsided on the beach. “We’re making camp here, then.”
“Camp?” Asaron rose, and it was her turn to be on the receiving end of expectant looks.
“You, Asaron, and what shelter?” Mikelos said.
Victory pulled off her wet boots and socks and padded across the sand in her bare feet. Placing a hand on the side of the boat, she said, “This.”
“And how to do you propose to manage that, daughter?”
Now he was just teasing. This was not the worst situation the two of them had been caught in with the rising sun. “Toria told me about the time your truck broke down last summer,” Victory said. “Stranding you guys in the middle of the Wasteland. The farmhouse.”
Now that had been luck. Victory had traveled her share of the edge of the Wasteland, the flat desolate plain that stretched from west of Limani across the bulk of the continent and permanent reminder of the Last War between the British and the Qin. Now the land was home to dust and scrub and lingering radiation, unable to support more than limited life. The burnt-out husk of an ancient farmhouse had saved Asaron’s life. Now this boat provided the same gift.
Asaron favored her with a proud smile. “Good thinking.”
Putting their strength to use, they dragged the boat toward the trees while Mikelos scouted out two full-sized tree trunks close enough together. It took all three of them to flip the boat and brace it against the trees.
While Asaron tied the arms of his coat around the boat’s cleats to create a curtain, he said, “I’m still amazed we came across that house when we did. Talk about a godsend.”
Victory stuffed brush around the cracks between the boat and the forest floor. Any extra cover would be useful, and it was a good thing the branches above them were dense. “I still can’t believe anyone used to live out there for you to find a house in the first place.”
“There used to be a lot more subsistence farmers in that area. Toria’s birth family was one of many.”
Victory swallowed back a snort. “Family. Right.” She hated to think what Toria’s life might have been like before she and Mikelos adopted her.
“Just because the elves said her father would become an abuser doesn’t mean it was set in stone,” Asaron said.
Victory shoved in a final handful of leaves. “Good luck you found her when you did.” Bandits had burned the farm and killed the parents, leaving the months-old baby to the elements. Not in any position to raise her himself, Asaron had brought the child to his progeny and her daywalker. Years later, they learned the elves had marked Toria for eventual “rescue” from her birth parents. Pure coincidence led Asaron to the site first. More memories of her last trip to the Wasteland swam to the surface of her mind. Dirt and rocks, strange animals, a desolation where nothing proper could grow or live. “Thinking of Toria growing up out there is terrifying.”
Mikelos wrapped his arms around Victory, drawing her head to his shoulder. She hugged him back, giving him a quick peck on the cheek.
Asaron finished tying up a sheet of canvas he’d found stowed beneath one of the seats. Between it and the coat, they would be protected from direct sun. He stepped away from the boat, surveying their handiwork. “I suppose it will have to do,” he said.
Sire and progeny were both seasoned campaigners and had ofte
n traveled with humans or others immune to the sun’s rays. Both of them had been in worse spots, with much less time to cobble together a shelter. This ranked right up with a luxury hotel. “Guess there’s not much else we can do,” she said.
Asaron looked over the river to the east. The stars had faded as the sky transitioned from black toward midnight blue. Dawn approached. “Guess not.” She heard a hitch in his voice.
Liar. Asaron never could hide anything from her. “Hey,” Victory said. She disentangled herself from Mikelos’ arms and approached her sire, placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Centuries ago, a client had nicknamed them Sun and Moon. Considering his fiery red hair in comparison with her darker locks, and the way he towered a foot over her, she had not been inclined to disagree.
Asaron captured her hand and gripped it tight, tracing her fingers with his thumb. “I was locked in that cabin after we left port in New Carthage.”
“That’s what, a three-day ride?” Mikelos said.
“Closer to four, with all the stops.” Asaron gazed over Victory’s head. She glanced over her shoulder and realized he was giving her daywalker a hungry stare.
Realization dawned. “Four days, with no food?”
“Three days, after they locked me up and took everything I had bottled,” he said. “Bottles were gone when I grabbed my stuff after you broke me out. I’ll have to get Toria to charm me more when we get home.”
No wonder Mikelos looked like the evening special. But this was an old conversation. Mikelos belonged to her. Sire or not, vampires did not share daywalkers. She squeezed his hand. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes,” Asaron said. “Been through worse.” His eyes turned back to the imminent sunrise.
So had she, though it was never fun. But if Asaron thought he could handle it, Victory wouldn’t argue. “C’mon, let’s get settled.”
Steel Victory (Steel Empire Book 1) Page 2
