She spun and ran down the ramp without a backward glance. Rian walked over and slapped a hand against the hatchway controls, glaring at the two CP officers standing a few feet away, though neither of them was looking at him.
Once the ramp had locked into place and the atmospheric doors had whooshed shut, he stalked across the cargo bay floor and started up the stairs, echoes of acid rage washing through him. It wasn’t that long ago he hadn’t been able to control his response when someone touched him unexpectedly; the woman was lucky she hadn’t ended up bleeding on the floor.
He hadn’t even made it halfway up the first flight of stairs when the scent of moon jasmine assaulted his sinuses. Ella paused a few steps above him, a troubled expression on her features.
“Is something wrong?” she asked before he could ask her exactly the same thing.
He braced against the railing, the venom still crawling under his skin making his muscles tight. “No, why would you ask that?”
His voice sounded cool and detached, thankfully not giving hint to the ugly blackness swimming through his blood. For half a second there, the idea of stabbing Alyssa Faulkner, just like he had the man who’d touched Ella, had hummed through his limbs, a siren song for blood and death he once couldn’t have ignored.
Ella descended two more steps, bringing her closer to him, her mossy gaze assessing. She rubbed her upper arms, as if she were cold.
“I don’t know, I just felt—” She shook her head and pressed her lips together, as if she’d belatedly realized she was straying onto unstable grounds.
He pinned her with a lethal glare. Not that she ever seemed intimidated by them.
“You better not be reading me again, princess.”
She returned his glower. “Contrary to your maniacal beliefs, I don’t sit around all day trying to read your mind. But I’ve told you before, when strong emotion is broadcast—”
“Then maybe you’re picking up on somebody else’s feelings, because I’m the dead last person who feels any kind of strong emotion.”
She sent him a faintly chiding look, and it rammed itself all the way into the depths of his being. Jezus, how did the woman make him feel things he hadn’t experienced for years?
“You can fool everyone else, Rian, even yourself. But I am the single person in this universe you will never be able to fool.”
Because she’d accidentally seen into the darkest corners of his mind when she’d healed him from a wound that should have been fatal just over a month ago. A fact he hated being reminded about, ever. What she’d seen would have sent any sane person fleeing the ship. Yet it had seemed to make her more determined to stay, as though Ella had signed on as his own personal guardian angel or conscience—one he didn’t need and definitely didn’t want.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have a bottle of Violaine to finish off before I front the local CP offices tomorrow morning.”
He expected her to argue, maybe lecture him about his drinking habits, but instead she inclined her head and moved to the side of the stairs to let him pass. As he brushed by her, the subtle scent of moon jasmine infused him. Usually, he hated it when the seductive smell wafted all over him. But this time, it trickled into his very cells until he was no longer so desperate to finish off the lonely bottle of liquor waiting for him in his cabin. Had the priestess worked some kind of mojo on him again? He glanced over his shoulder at her as he reached the landing but couldn’t get a read on her expression.
She still appeared troubled, and maybe slightly confused, but he didn’t get the sense she was using her Arynian training on him.
Having her around was convenient while he worked out why the Reidar were after her, and how he could use that to his advantage. But he could and would go against his instincts and stash her somewhere if she became too much of a problem.
But exactly how much more of a mess could she bring down on them before he was forced to do something about her?
Chapter Eighteen
Onboard the Ebony Winter
Mae followed Lucie beyond the engine room into an area that had probably once been used for storage but had been turned into some kind of lab or workroom.
“And this charming little space is where Chase spends 90 percent of his time. We call it the locker room. It’s a good place to come hang out when the rest of the crew are getting on your nerves.” Lucie walked over to a waist-high workbench and hopped up onto a stool. The top of the table was littered with all kinds of mechanical stuff—tools, vials, and unidentifiable bits and pieces.
Mae cast a look over the contents, gaze stopping on a small stand holding three types of handguns, but they definitely weren’t pulse pistols or nucleon guns. She’d never seen anything like them.
A clatter sounded to her left, and a figure emerged from a cupboard, head bowed, tinkering with something in his hands. Chase glanced up and aimed a goofy yet totally cute smile at Lucie. He had an unruly mop of dark brown hair and brown eyes that somehow managed to be dark yet still have an almost golden hue to them. He was tall and lanky and clearly at home with all his gadgets. Definitely not the type of guy Mae would have expected to be among Forster’s group of badass marauders. Though she was coming to realize the Ebony Winter’s crew weren’t exactly what their reputation made them out to be.
“Hi again. Mae, isn’t it?” He transferred everything he was holding into his left hand and held out his right. “Charleston Reed, but everyone calls me Chase. It’s easier and doesn’t sound ridiculous.”
Mae smiled as she returned the handshake. “Nice to meet you again.”
He sidestepped to set some things down on the table. “So, what brings you down here?”
“I was giving Mae a tour of the ship, and this was the last stop.” Lucie kicked her legs back and forth as she reached over to pick up one of the items Chase had set down. “Are you still trying to fix it or did you decide to start all over again?”
It was another handgun, like the others displayed on the stand, but this one obviously wasn’t in working order.
Chase shrugged. “Still trying to fix it. I’m sure it’s just a matter of tweaking.”
“What is it?” Mae reached over to pick up one of the completed models from the stand.
“It’s meant to be a kind of stun gun, I guess you could say. Like the pulse pistol, but with no kill setting. I’m also trying to make it painless. Unfortunately, I’m not having much success. Every type of stun weapon ever invented, right back to the barbaric early Taser technologies—none can knock someone out without shocking the system or causing some pain. I’m sure there’s a way to do it painlessly. I just haven’t quite worked it out yet.”
Mae tested the weight and lined up the sights. “So this one doesn’t work?”
“You can shoot it, and it delivers a kind of electromagnetic pulse to the body. But it doesn’t hurt and doesn’t do anything. It’s totally harmless. I’m trying to get the electromagnetic jolt to interrupt the brain signals in a way that makes people fall into an instant deep sleep, as opposed to zapping them unconscious.”
“Wow, that’s really something.” Mae lowered the weapon, tracing a finger over the sleek design. Something like that would have unending applications for the community protection sector of the IPC alone.
He shook his head. “Well, as of now it’s still a pipe dream.”
Lucie patted Chase on the shoulder. “You’ll work it out. You always do.”
He shot her a half smile. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, but this one really has me stumped.”
The door slid open, and Zander stepped into the room. He cast a quick glance around then settled his attention on her.
“Hey, looks like I missed the tour.”
Lucie grinned. “There wasn’t a whole lot to see, unlike your ginormous flagship, I imagine.”
“Yeah, I still have trouble finding my way around that monstrosity, but don’t tell anyone I said so.” He hooked his thumbs into his pockets, seeming more relaxed now than he had
since they’d come aboard the Ebony Winter. He paced to the opposite side of the table. “This is some setup you’ve got down here.”
Chase ducked his head. “Yeah. I guess I’m lucky Qae puts up with me and all my geekiness.”
“Of course he does, Chase,” Lucie put in. “Some of your inventions have really come in handy, plus you’ve saved our hides on more than one occasion with that huge nerdy brain of yours.”
Chase smiled, the expression a little embarrassed, as though he wasn’t comfortable with getting any sort of attention. The quiet guy who liked to work in the background—that seemed to be Chase all over.
The door opened again, and one of the other crew members walked in. Lucie swiveled on her stool, a surprised expression flitting across her features. “Wow. I think last time you came down here, we were still reputable traders, and the IPC had no idea who we were. Obviously Qae needs something?”
The guy didn’t answer, his gaze skipping past her to land on Zander at the far end of the room. A cold blast of icy apprehension stormed through Mae as he raised his arm, nucleon gun in hand. He shot off a round before anyone could so much as blink, but Zander had leaped forward, and the blast clipped Lucie, knocking her off the stool.
Zander crashed into the workbench, snatching one of Chase’s harmless stun guns, then lined up the shooter.
“Zander, it’s not—” Mae rushed forward, intending to tackle Zander to the ground before the man’s next shot took him out, but Zander fired off a couple of blasts toward the guy.
He stumbled back and went down on one knee, the nucleon gun clattering to the floor. She skidded to a halt. Chase had said the gun didn’t work, so what the hell—?
The guy shook his head and then straightened, and the breath slammed out of Mae’s body, her heart smashing into her ribs.
That wasn’t a guy, it was a Reidar—it had reverted back to its true form while it’d been down on the floor. Whatever electromagnetic charge Chase had calibrated into that weapon had apparently stripped the alien of its ability to shape-shift.
The last time she’d seen a Reidar, it had totally freaked her out. And that one had been dead. Seeing one alive in its true form and now advancing on Zander—
Her instincts kicked into gear, and Mae lunged for the table and grabbed the biggest, pointiest object she could get her hands on—a large screwdriver.
As the Reidar rounded one side of the table stalking Zander, who still held the gun up, his expression a mask of shock, Mae rushed the alien from the side, half jumping on its back to shove the screwdriver into its neck. It roared even as it scrabbled to pull out the tool. She leaped back again, putting herself out of swinging range.
The Reidar yanked the impromptu weapon out of its neck and spun toward her, dark crimson blood dripping from the end of the screwdriver shades darker than human blood. The alien glared at her, fury in the yellow gleam of its eyes. She backed up, bumping into one of the stools and stumbling. The Reidar started to leap forward, but a shot sizzled past her upper arm, hitting the thing in the dead center of its chest. Mae dropped to the deck as more nucleon gunfire peppered the alien, but it stood there taking blast after blast into its body. At last, a flash seared into the creature’s neck, and it collapsed backward, glancing off the side of the bench and landing facedown.
Mae pushed into a crouch, sucking in rapid snatches of air. She glanced over her shoulder. Forster stood in the doorway, his features pale and pinched.
“What the frecking hell just happened?” the captain demanded, his arms shaking as he lowered the nucleon gun.
Mae scrambled to her feet, rounding the end of the table and practically slamming into Zander coming in the opposite direction.
“Are you okay?” they both blurted out at the same time.
Zander laughed and cupped the back of her head, yanking her in for a crushing hug. She wrapped her arms around him and blew out a long breath, an aftershock of anxiety pouring through her body as she clutched him.
God, that had been so close. They’d let their guard down, thinking they were safe onboard the Ebony Winter. Clearly, there was no such thing as a safe place in this universe any longer.
“Somebody better explain what’s going on, or I’m going to start shooting again.” Forster had walked farther into the room.
Chase helped Lucie up from the floor, a streak of dark red blood on her upper arm where the Reidar shot had clipped her biceps.
Forster squatted down and rolled the Reidar over, then jerked up and took a hasty step back, his gun still trained on the fallen alien. He nudged the thing in the hip with his boot.
“What the hell is this?” Forster’s voice came out hoarse.
Mae shifted back as Zander lowered his arms from around her waist, but she caught his hand before he could get away from her. She needed to keep touching him until her heart rate had returned to normal and she’d come to terms with the fact that they’d only just managed to survive yet another attack. If Forster hadn’t walked in when he had…the Reidar might well have been successful.
“It’s an alien,” Zander announced, not trying to soften the blow. “They’re called Reidar, and we have reason to believe they’re trying to invade. They’re also the reason Mae and I are on the run from the IPC.”
Forster holstered his weapon and turned to face them.
“An alien? You know, I’d be ready to laugh my ass off right about now if it wasn’t for—” He glanced down at the Reidar and shook his head. “How the hell did it look like one of my crew? Shite, I need something to drink. And you two need to explain this better, right from the beginning.”
“Lucie needs medical attention,” Chase interrupted.
“It’s just a scratch, Chase, I’m okay.” Lucie forced a strained smile.
For a long moment there was silence, and everyone’s attention was drawn back to the dead alien, dark, dark blood creeping outward in a pool around its body. The lights in the bulkhead gleamed off the near-scalelike quality of the creature’s flesh, though scales weren’t quite the right description, because it also looked like regular skin. Its features were broad, with a flatness over its nose and brow that kept it from otherwise looking human.
Mae shuddered and forced her gaze away.
“I totally don’t need to look at that freak show anymore. Everyone head upship to the common room.” Forster cursed under his breath as he walked over to a nearby shelf to grab a tarp, then flicked it out to cover the body, which was already starting to liquefy. Because apparently that was a thing dead Reidar did.
Mae tugged on Zander’s hand and went up through the ship, Lucie, Chase, and Forster behind them. Once they’d reached the common room, everyone sat on the various stools around the room while Forster pulled out a bottle of vodka and a medical kit from a storage compartment.
The captain splashed the vodka into several glasses, passing them around the room, then grabbed hold of Lucie’s elbow and doused the wound on her upper arm. Mae winced in sympathy as Lucie hissed through clenched teeth.
“Okay.” Forster paused to take a swig of the vodka then set the bottle aside and opened the medical kit. “Start talking, Captain Admiral.”
Mae shared a quick glance with Zander.
“I think Mae’s the better choice if you want a coherent explanation,” Zander replied warily. “I’m still getting my head around all of this.”
She arched a brow in Zander’s direction. “And I’m not? You really want a full education, Forster, then you need to talk to Rian Sherron. But I can tell you what I know, and how Zander and I came to be here.”
Mae went back to when she’d come across Rian, who’d been apprehended by UAFA for some trumped-up intergalactic terrorism charges, giving a footnotes version of every encounter she’d had with the Reidar, plus bits of information Rian had imparted to her. Of course, she left out why she’d signed on as Zander’s admiral’s assistant.
“That’s some story.” Forster had started packing the medical kit away, having taken
care of Lucie’s arm while Mae had talked. “But I don’t get why these aliens would infiltrate my crew. What did they hope to gain? It’s not like we’re important. In fact, it’s the total opposite. We’re just a bunch of salvagers straddling the line of respectability, trying to get by in this stinking pig’s ass of a universe.”
Zander sent Forster a disbelieving look. “Straddling the line of respectability? I’m pretty sure you fell off that pony cart a long time ago.”
Forster scowled. “Screw you upside down with something spiky, Graydon.”
When Zander opened his mouth to reply, Mae wrapped her hand around his upper arm, giving his biceps a gentle squeeze. “That’s not really helping right now, boys.”
The two men glared at each other, but neither said another word. Mae looked at Forster.
“I know you don’t trust us, and you’re wary of letting us have any kind of comm-link, but we really do need to contact Rian. He’s our only hope of surviving.”
Forster stared at her, his expression inscrutable. At last he sighed. “I want to trust you, and finding out one of my crew was a frecking alien kind of helps to that end, but I’ve spent so long mistrusting anything IPC, I can’t help but feel like the other shoe is not just going to drop—it’s going to kick me in the face.”
“The other shoe is the Reidar. And believe me, they can and will do worse than kick you in the face.” Mae pushed up from the stool and stepped closer to the captain. “We need your help. You can put the call through yourself and stay with us the entire time. We don’t need privacy, we just need Rian.”
Forster’s lips lifted in a half smile. “When a gorgeous woman asks for my help, I can never say no.”
Lucie scoffed from where she sat, her hand wrapped around the bandaged wound on her upper arm. “And look how many times that’s gotten you into serious trouble, Qae.”
Forster shrugged. “Mae looks like the good kind of trouble to me.”
Mae crossed her arms and bit her tongue over a retort. If putting up with Forster’s flirting got them in contact with Rian sooner, then she’d go along with it.
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