Glyph (The Shadowmark Series Book 3)

by T. M. Catron

  Doyle has nowhere to go. He can’t fight us forever, and that’s how long it will take him to win. Turning his back on Condar has only sealed his fate.

  And that is?

  Condar has bigger plans for him. And he will come back into the fold, regardless of the consequences he now faces.

  A chill ran through Mina. What do you mean?

  He is ours.

  Mina leaned forward, pressing her hands against the glass and glaring at the Glyph. He is mine.

  That may have been pressing it a bit, but Mina knew which side Doyle was on. Without a doubt.

  The Glyph bared its long fangs. Then, its jaws snapped shut with a crack Mina thought she heard outside the cage. If it was trying to scare her, it was succeeding.

  You don’t know who you’re messing with, monster. The humans may be beaten, but only this round. The next one, you won’t be so lucky.

  The humans are inconsequential. You are inconsequential, despite the fact that you have stolen adarre upon your body.

  I didn’t steal them. Mina wasn’t going to be goaded into saying anything more. She didn’t want to risk all their plans. What do you want from me?

  Condar wants you to die.

  And if I don’t?

  You will. If not today, then tomorrow. The traitor Doyle will probably do it himself.

  Now Mina laughed. The Glyph was too late with that lie. Doyle had spent too much time keeping her alive to make her believe it now. But then anger replaced her mirth. It was just trying to make her doubt Doyle, and she’d already made up her mind about him.

  I hope you rot here. Actually, I don’t have to hope. It’s what’s going to happen. He’ll never let you out.

  The Glyph banged up against the glass again. This time, the whole cage groaned, and the floor around it. Mina backed away.

  That’s right. Run, human.

  I’m not running.

  But you will. Then the creature resumed its banging along the walls. With each thrust, the cage shuddered, but it held. Realizing their conversation was done, Mina turned for the tunnel she’d arrived in. The last sound she heard as she climbed back into the passage was the Glyph laughing into her mind.

  When she finally groped her way back to the wall she’d fallen through, Mina stopped. The last thing she wanted was to let it suck her back in. But if she wanted to return to the med bay without telling Doyle, this was her only option. Taking another deep breath, ready for the excruciating pain, she touched the wall.

  Nothing happened.

  “Are you kidding me?” She kicked the wall with her foot. Why wouldn’t it open?

  The lights were on the other side. “Great. Just great.”

  Open, she commanded. At the corner of her mind, Mina felt something move. Like the adarria had brushed her thoughts. She brushed the wall with her fingertips, feeling for the now-familiar grooves. But the stone was smooth. They weren’t on this side.

  Which meant she couldn’t go back the way she came. Because she didn’t want to face Doyle just yet, Mina ran her hands over the stone. The wall curled up over her head.

  Then a rush of hot air blew in her face from out of the wall. As it did, Mina’s fingers fell into the hot stone, and once again the burning sensation caused tears to spring to her eyes. As painful as it was, she allowed the wall to pull her forward and up. The entrance must have been up higher than she realized.

  As Mina relaxed, the wall sucked her in, pulling her up by her arms, then grabbing her head. She couldn’t help but panic when it closed over her mouth and her ribs constricted. Then, with a pop, she shot out of the tube into the other tunnel.

  The light was waiting on her, glowing in the ceiling just ahead. Wishing to get out as quickly as possible, she followed the lights as they led her down. She jogged now, more confident in the return journey than the going. Once again, she marveled at the empty halls. Maybe the adarria were leading her away from any possible encounters because the journey to the hospital bay seemed much shorter than the journey away from it.

  At the door, the lights glowed brighter for a moment, then faded. Mina panted. Goosebumps rose on her skin as the sweat on her body cooled in the frigid air.

  If they had discovered she was missing, she would have a lot of explaining to do. How long had she been gone? Mina would have to risk it, though, unless she wanted to stand out here and wait for someone to find her. Then she was sure to cause a stir.

  Open.

  The door slid open to reveal a quiet room. Mina crept inside, and the door closed behind her. Lincoln was asleep, his arm draped over his eyes and his mouth open. Grace wasn’t in sight.

  Mina’s bed looked undisturbed. With a jolt of relief, she hurried to it. She’d just swung her legs under the blanket when Alvarez whispered, “Where have you been?”

  Mina sighed. Of course, Alvarez would notice. She should have been a hybrid herself. At that thought, Mina sat up. Was she? Then Mina dismissed the idea. Alvarez couldn’t have kept the secret this long, especially being aboard the Factory. So, that just made her a particularly annoying human.

  Scowling, Alvarez stepped around the foot of Mina’s bed. “Where were you? How did you get out?”

  “Does anyone else know I was gone?” Mina asked.

  “No, I’ve been covering for you.”

  Mina raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “Don’t look so surprised. I only did it so Lincoln wouldn’t worry. He seems to have had a relapse of his leg. I was about to tell Grace you were missing, but for all I knew, she’d conspired to have you kidnapped or something.”

  Mina swung her legs back over the bed, looking back at Lincoln with a renewed wave of concern. “She didn’t. I snuck off on my own.”

  “To go see Doyle? You don’t have to keep him a secret anymore, remember? Don’t you know people worry about you?”

  “Did you worry about me?”

  Alvarez sniffed. “It doesn’t matter to me what you do, Mina. But Lincoln’s been through enough.”

  Mina had no choice but to lie. She could hardly explain what she’d just done. She didn’t understand it herself. “Yes, I went to see Doyle,” she whispered.

  The lie didn’t sit right with her. If Alvarez ever said anything to Doyle, he’d know something was up. Mina almost stopped Alvarez as she turned. But then she realized she couldn’t tell Alvarez anything without telling her about the adarre, and Doyle was still adamant about keeping it a secret. Mina let Alvarez walk to her own bunk and crawl in. She didn’t even glance back, lying with her back to Mina.

  Mina sighed. The gulf between her and Alvarez only seemed to be widening. But she didn’t know what to do about it, nor was it a priority at the moment. Mina lay down and looked at the ceiling. After wandering around the Factory, she should be tired. Her body ached and her hand still burned from the hot stone, but Mina was wide awake, thinking about what she’d learned.

  The Glyph had been so sure Doyle would turn back to Condar. Mina didn’t believe it for a second. Why would he turn himself in to a certain death?

  But the Glyph hadn’t made it sound like Doyle would die. It had mentioned his fate, instead. What fate? And what did Doyle have to do with any of it? He had always been a slave.

  Unfortunately, Mina couldn’t ask him about it without telling him where she’d been. And since she had managed to get back to the med bay without anyone knowing where she’d gone, she wasn’t inclined to give herself away just to satisfy her curiosity.

  Even though curiosity had made her go poke her nose where it didn’t belong in the first place. After talking to the Glyph, Mina was even more determined to go to Condar with Doyle. He needed someone he could trust, whether he knew it or not.

  Chapter Eleven

  Calla loved hunting at night. The darkness enveloping her. The quiet chatter of insects and the stirring of the wind. Everything heightened by her diminished sight. Not too diminished, though. With her enhanced night vision, the world revealed itself in hues of purple, gray, and blue.
Dark trees towered over her hunting party, creaking overhead in the brewing storm. Something scuttled under the brush. A raccoon, perhaps, or a skunk. She scooted around the area, not wishing to give herself away by startling the local wildlife.

  Three other hybrids fanned out around her, fading in and out of the dark trees. The first lightning strike glimmered over the mountain. The wind brought the fresh scent of rain. A couple of big drops splashed down on Calla’s face.

  She didn’t want to hunt the Glyph in the storm, but now that the party had set out, she was too stubborn to call it off.

  As they neared the mine, Calla analyzed her strategy. Again. They needed to separate a Glyph from the others. Either by finding it alone or drawing it away using a decoy. The Condarri didn’t travel together much. They preferred solitude, so the likelihood of finding one alone was high. When she found one, the other hybrids would surround it while Calla killed it.

  Thus far, they hadn’t even run across the hint of one. But Condarri were here, having taken over the mine and its surroundings completely. Again, Calla wondered what they were doing. But she pushed aside her curiosity, kept her mind on her plan.

  A battle with a Condarri would kill her if she weren’t very, very careful. Doyle had killed one, and she half-wished she had been there when he had. To watch him move, see his skillful fight. It had been a long time since she had taken a step back and watched Doyle fight somebody other than her. For years, they had been sparring partners. Calla had fought others, of course. But she always returned to the challenge of Doyle.

  He was still a challenge. And an enigma. Just when she thought she had him figured out, he surprised her. Like realizing that his power had come from killing a Sacred Condarri.

  The air stirred, brushing over Calla’s short hair. The thrill of the hunt wormed its way through her, up her spine, tingling in her hands and fingertips. Her prey was close. She paused to listen, and the others halted too.

  More rain dropped from the sky, evading the tree canopy above to splat on soft earth and brown stone. Water gurgled out of a nearby rock, the beginnings of a mountain stream.

  A presence loomed directly ahead, hidden by a rock fall.

  Calla’s heartbeat sped up, and the familiar rush of adrenaline coursed through her. She was going to kill a Condarri. One of her masters.

  Former master.

  It is close, she told the others. One, maybe two.

  She took a deep breath and sank down behind a tree, waiting. The other hybrids faded out of sight.

  Calla silently unsheathed her knife. A gun would be useless against the being. Unless she could hit it in the eye, its only soft place, and losing an eyeball would not stop it from being dangerous.

  The Earth trembled ever so slightly as the Condarri moved through the trees. A human would not have been able to detect the soft tremors. It circled the rockfall and stood next to the stream, alone, golden, and terrible.

  More lightning flashed, followed by the rumble of thunder. The Condarri stopped. Did it sense one of them? It was still too far away for Calla to attack. She edged closer, holding her breath as she placed one foot in front of the other, keeping her body in the shadows. If it looked her way, it would see her, but something to its right was holding its attention.

  You dare to hunt me? it said.

  Its voice in Calla’s mind almost made her skull burst with the pain. She resisted the urge to cry out. Behind her, one of the hybrids stirred, the scent of his fear wafting to her on the breeze. She cursed his weakness even as she cursed the pain in her head. If the Condarri discovered their locations, it would attack. And it would show no mercy.

  It knew they were there, but not exact locations. They had lost the element of surprise but not the tactical advantage.

  Lightning flashed again, and the great monster glimmered golden. With pain splitting her head in two, and a wave of nausea overwhelming her, Calla could only think of one thing.

  Attack before it was too late.

  She rose up, fighting the pain and the fear overtaking her. Gripping her knife, she rushed the Condarri. She didn’t yell or rage at it but hurled herself at the creature with all her fury. And a sense of injustice too. A sense of being enslaved her whole life, and she was just beginning to understand what it meant to be her master.

  Calla sprang into the air, and the Condarri turned for her, ready to do battle.

  At the last second, Calla twisted in midair to kick the Condarri’s chest with both feet. With the full force of her lunge behind her, the creature staggered back. Calla landed deftly in a crouch a few yards away.

  The blow had broken the Condarri’s concentration, and her head cleared. Without waiting for it to recover, Calla charged.

  Her knife became an extension of her arm, and she concentrated on feeling its grip in her hand and her legs pounding over the soft earth. Two more powerful steps brought her within attack range.

  But the Condarri had been waiting on her, and swiped with a claw, grasping for Calla.

  She rolled to the left, just by its feet. The Condarri turned swiftly, preparing to catch her before she rose. Calla took the opportunity to slash at its heel, just at the place where the Achilles tendon would be on a human.

  The Condarri roared but did not falter. Still, it moved its leg, giving Calla the moment she needed to rise to her feet. She ran and struck at its thigh, this time feeling the blade slide through the Condarri’s armor-like hide.

  Its screech pierced the forest, startling birds in the trees.

  You will die, hybrid, it said.

  “Not tonight!” she yelled and slashed at the arm reaching for her.

  The Condarri jumped out of the way with surprising speed. Then it launched its own attack, reaching for Calla to break her body with its massive claws. She turned, out of reach. But one of the claws caught her shoulder, sending burning pain down her shoulder blade.

  Blood trickled down her back, soaking her shirt and mixing with the sweat that had broken out all over her body.

  “I still drew first blood,” she said vehemently.

  Now, she told the others.

  But instead of the battle cry Calla was expecting, only one lone hybrid appeared from behind a tree. Had the others left? Or were they watching to see what happened?

  “Cowards!” she spat and charged without waiting for their aid.

  As time slowed for Calla, she saw and heard everything. The adarria on the Condarri stood out in sharp relief. Its fangs as it roared and met Calla’s challenge. The thunder above in the clouds and the tremor in the earth as the creature launched itself to meet her head on.

  She dodged the first swipe, and the second. On the third, its blow sent her through the air to land against the trunk of a tree. All the breath left Calla. As she slid down to the ground, the Condarri reached for her. She twisted and landed face down. It brought up a foot to stomp on her head. Instead, Calla set her knife’s handle in the ground and jerked out of the way just in time. The Condarri stomped down on the blade, which pierced its foot like a spike.

  It howled and recoiled, taking the blade with it.

  “Give me your knife!” Calla commanded the hybrid still watching the battle beneath the trees. For a tense second, she didn’t think he would. But then he tossed his to her. She caught it and went after the Condarri, which was pulling Calla’s knife out of its foot.

  Silver blood now poured from its foot and its side, leaving great splatters on the dead leaves at their feet.

  The sky opened, and the rain came down in a torrent of water. The Condarri tossed her knife away, its own hands and claws too bulky to make good use of it.

  It met her new charge halfway, attempting to bowl her over with its superior size and weight. Calla once again dodged, escaping being crushed underfoot.

  Each time she rushed it, it learned from her. After two more lunges, Calla had turned on the defensive, evading the large but agile creature as it tried to take her head off with each mighty blow. No matter what she t
ried, she couldn’t injure it again.

  It backed Calla against the rockfall, trapping her. Sweat, blood, and rain streamed down her body. But her energy wasn’t spent yet.

  Behind the Condarri, the lone hybrid faded into the trees. Anger surged through her. She could not stand betrayal. The thought of ripping the traitor limb from limb spurred her forward, toward her would-be executioner.

  The Condarri crouched and reached for her, certain it would catch her this time. But Calla sprang into the air, over its outstretched arms.

  And brought her knife down right into its eye. Silver blood splattered Calla’s face. The rain-soaked creature was slippery. With nothing to grab onto, Calla hooked a leg over the Condarri’s shoulder, removing her knife at the same time.

  Its claws gripped Calla around the waist, ready to crush her. But she plunged the knife into its other eye, sinking it all the way to the hilt. The grip loosened as the creature jerked its head away from the cold metal. Calla used the opportunity to propel herself backward, keeping her hand on the hilt.

  The Condarri’s head snapped back, and it lost its grip on her completely.

  She had no idea about its internal anatomy, but if there were any brain matter behind the eyes, she would have hit it. She drove the knife further as she pulled back, trying to cut her way out of its eye socket. The bone or whatever made up its skull was harder than her steel, and the knife lodged in it.

  The Condarri thrashed about, clearly in distress.

  Calla held onto the knife and stood on its shoulders. Then she lurched back, attempting to throw it off balance. The creature staggered. She jerked backward again and felt its balance give way.

  “If you want to reclaim some of your honor,” she called to any hybrid who might have been listening, “now is your chance. Once I kill it, I will hunt you down so you can suffer the same fate!”

  Her passionate call to arms did nothing, and so Calla concentrated all her energy on pulling the Condarri backward.

  Desperate to dislodge the hybrid attached to its head, the Condarri recovered some of its sense and reached for Calla’s arm. She lurched back one final time and felt the creature shift beneath her. The ground rushed up to meet them. As they fell, Calla jerked the knife forward, out of the bone, and propelled herself off its shoulders.