Yet he could still remember the look on her face the day he'd torn her rhapha, the stark terror and pain reflected in her golden eyes. And her deep, gut-wrenching panic when he'd pushed their mating too fast. She'd only been eighteen seasons old when she fell prey to Pax, far too young to have her innocence brutalized. No woman deserved the abuse that shadower seemed to enjoy inflicting.
Whatever resentment Sabin felt toward Moriah couldn’t begin to mitigate the atrocities Pax had committed, which included hunting and turning in Shielders. He was vicious and cruel; he enjoyed his work too much. Like a rabid krat, he needed to be put down.
"Pax isn't in with Galen that I know of," Sabin told Jarek. "But he poses a threat to our people. I also have a personal grievance to settle with him."
"We're well aware of his activities. I'll keep a lookout for him."
"Thanks. I'll be in touch." Sabin signed off, his blood still racing from the knowledge he was closing in on Galen, and then Pax.
Silence reverberated in the cockpit, a constant reminder that he was alone. He kept telling himself he didn't care, that he was used to it. And he almost believed it. Then he would walk through the long, gleaming corridor and empty compartments of his fancy new ship. Until he could no longer stand the loneliness echoing off the barren walls, and the isolation closed in on him. He'd never felt this way in his old ship, couldn't understand why he felt it now; when he had finally attained the spacecraft he'd always dreamed of having.
This ship was his, and his alone, not some hand-me-down from a ragged military fleet. He owned it, free and clear, and he'd earned every miteron it had cost. It had every amenity, and then some. So why wasn't he happy, damn it?
And why did this reaction always lead to thoughts of Moriah? When it did, a storm of emotions ripped through him, anger and a sense of betrayal. Why he should even care was beyond him. She was a thief and a liar, a smuggler by profession. She'd certainly been true to form.
And he was a shadower—a hunter, a predator.
He would find her. He'd make damn sure her memory got erased this time. But first he'd force her to reveal the rendezvous point for the iridon delivery. If she refused to tell him, he'd loosen her tongue with a truth serum. He could run with the best of them, if he had to.
He would be the victor in their next encounter.
* * * *
Sabin landed on Risa, well away from the settlement his sensors indicated. He wasn't worried about a tracking/alert system, because his ship had stealth capability. But he chose to come in after dark in case Moriah kept a lookout posted, and because his long-range scanners hadn't noted much on this part of the planet that would provide cover. There were no hills or mountains, very few trees, and those were scraggly desert trees at that. The area appeared as barren as Calt, only without many buildings or people.
With the element of surprise, he could choose his approach to the settlement. Ideally, he'd be able to keep the confrontation to a minimum, abduct Moriah under the cover of darkness, and hightail it out of there.
If it came to an encounter, he wasn't too concerned about being outnumbered. While in prison, Celie had told him only eight women inhabited the colony, and one of those was elderly. Celie didn't pose a threat, and he already knew Moriah's capabilities. She was a good fighter, but he was better. The Zarian might be a problem, and he'd have to watch out for her. The other women were unknown factors, but he was confident he could handle the situation.
He had no intention of harming the women, but he would use the stun guns strapped to his belt if he had to. Even then, he had them on a setting that would only incapacitate a person temporarily, with no serious side effects.
Lowering the special loading ramp at the rear of his ship, Sabin brought out a land skimmer. Virtually silent, the vehicle would allow him to approach the settlement without risk of detection, as well as enable a fast retreat once he had Moriah. It was fully equipped with a restraining body harness and sedatives. Standard equipment for tracking felons, and a definite necessity with her.
He jumped into the skimmer and headed across the hard, bare surface of the planet, using the navigator to guide him to the settlement. The night was warm, and sweat pooled inside his flightsuit, but he ignored it. He had traveled about thirty kilometers before he saw the faint glow of torches ahead.
Bringing the skimmer to rest on the ground, he strapped the portable body harness onto his back, slid two sedative-filled hypochambers into a special sheath on his belt, and trekked toward the colony. He wasn't sure how he could approach undetected with no ground cover, but much to his surprise, he saw some trees and underbrush ahead.
He dropped to the ground and crawled silently to the outcropping, again surprised when he felt a blanket of grass beneath him, beginning at the line of bushes, which sported large, fragrant blossoms. This was obviously an artificial oasis in the midst of natural desolation.
Crawling forward, he halted just before he reached the edge of a clearing. The tree line ended, but the lush grass extended onward and beyond a semicircle of crude huts approximately twenty meters ahead. Two solar lanterns positioned on poles in the center of the grass illuminated the area. He looked around, seeing no one. Wondering where the inhabitants might be, he lay still and listened. There. Voices, on the other side of the huts.
He worked his way around the clearing, snaking through the encircling undergrowth, following the voices, until he came to the other side. More solar lanterns provided light for a large dirt landing pad. A midsized space cruiser sat on the pad, with a group of people clustered near its hatch.
Sabin edged forward. He saw Celie, two females he didn't recognize, and a very tall woman he assumed was the Zarian. She looked different without her prison uniform and with her blond hair down. Moriah was nowhere in sight.
Celie tried to heft one of the crates stacked by the hatch. "I can't even lift this," she complained. "Tyna, you packed too much in here."
"Be gone with you, imp," a stout woman fussed. But she affectionately mussed Celie's hair as she spoke.
"Here," the Zarian said imperiously, stepping forward and lifting the crate. "I will load these. Celie, go pack a change of clothing for your sister." She leveled a steely look at the two older women. "Tyna, Marna, you check the supplies in the galley."
Celie headed for the huts, and the other two women went up the ramp to the hatch. The Zarian followed behind with the crate. Excitement thrummed through Sabin. He'd be willing to bet this ship was being stocked for departure, most likely to pick up the iridon shipment. His timing was perfect. Just then, Moriah strode down the ramp. Blood surged through his veins, and his pulse raced. It was only the thrill of the hunt, he told himself, fixing her in his sights.
She'd rolled up her sleeves, and opened her flightsuit partway down, exposing a generous swell of smooth skin. Her hair was piled in a brilliant jumble on her head. Heat pooled in Sabin's body, particularly the lower half. Damning his body's traitorous reaction, he forced his attention to the immediate goal of abducting her.
He scanned the area to see if anyone else was around. There were other ships beyond the dirt pad. The lighting wasn't as good there, so he couldn't determine the exact number. He saw two smaller ships, built more for speed than capacity. Then another midsized cruiser, then his ship. Right there it sat—his ship. Old, cantankerous, undependable, but his.
Anger reared and his fingers itched to wrap themselves around Moriah's deceitful neck. One more glance around to be sure the coast was clear and—Radd? It couldn't be. He stared at the young man working on the spacecraft to the far right. It couldn't be!
But…it sure looked like Radd. The whistling sure sounded like his. Sabin scrabbled around in the dirt, extracting a small teleglass and studying the man through it. What the blazing hells was Radd doing here?
Then pain exploded in Sabin’s head. The mechanic and the ships and the lights went into a whirling kaleidoscope, rapidly fading into darkness.
* * * *
Spirit, his head hurt. It
felt like it had been put in a rocket coil and hurled against a magnasteel wall. Sabin groaned, trying to bring his hand to his throbbing temple, but his arm wouldn't move.
"Open your eyes, shadower."
He knew that husky female voice. He knew where he was, too. Just needed to clear his mind and get rid of this damn headache, then he'd figure it out.
"I said open your eyes."
He forced his eyes open, blinking against the bright light. Another burst of pain shot through his skull. He tried to focus on the two forms before him. They blurred, merged, and blurred again. Ignoring the pain, he concentrated until the images sharpened, unifying into one person. Moriah. He shook his head, trying to clear it. Big mistake. Shards of agony bombarded him. He gasped, unable to catch his breath. His chest was constricted somehow.
"How does it feel, shadower?"
He stared at her, still confused. "My head feels like it had a bad day in the Abyss. Where are we?"
Her golden eyes narrowed, glimmered. Leaning closer, she flicked at his chest. "I don't care about your head, shadower. I want to know what you think of your body harness."
Body harness? He looked down, realizing he was in a full body restraint. That explained why he couldn't move his arms, could hardly breathe. Coherent thought began returning. He'd followed Moriah, had been watching her, planning on abducting her.
"I wanted you to see what the harness feels like," she continued. "Radd showed me how it works."
Radd? Right. He'd seen Radd. Slowly, painfully, Sabin moved his focus from Moriah, taking in his surroundings. A number of people were gathered around, and they appeared to be in some sort of hut.
Celie, her hands twisted together, her face pinched in distress, stood to his left. Next to her was a silver-haired woman brandishing a thick Yarton branch, watching him suspiciously. The Zarian hulked nearby, dagger clutched in her hand. Next to her, barely topping her shoulder, stood Radd, his arm casually draped around her waist.
Sabin looked at Radd. The mechanic shrugged. "She asked me how to work the harness, so I told her. Didn't figure she planned to use it on ya, especially after Janaye knocked ya out with her stick."
Janaye must be the old crone holding the tree branch. She sure packed a punch. If his current level of pain was any indication, Sabin figured he'd have a headache for a lunar cycle. Forgetting the harness, he tried to move, but again found himself restrained. "All right, you've had your fun. Let me out of this thing," he demanded.
"Oh, no, shadower," Moriah sneered. "I want you to experience the helplessness your victims feel when you've hunted them, trapped them, and put them in the harness."
He frowned, trying to make sense of everything. "What is going on here?"
The Zarian stepped closer, her dagger angled. "Let me have him. Kamta is a very effective method of demonstrating pain."
Radd moved to her side, slipping his arm around her. "Naw, don't do that, Lionia. Ya wanted to carve me up, too, and it was kinda good ya didn't."
She growled, her venomous gaze still fixed on Sabin. But she lowered the knife. Astonished, he realized she had not only listened to Radd, but allowed him to touch her. As a rule, Zarians didn't allow anyone that intimacy.
Sabin returned his attention to Moriah. "We need to talk. Release me."
"I can't believe Janaye caught you crawling around our camp like the viper you are," she countered. "How did you find me? Why did you follow me here?"
She apparently couldn't comprehend why he might be upset with her. Lying and stealing must mean nothing to her. They must be everyday occurrence as far as she was concerned.
"You lied to me, Moriah. You gave me your word of honor—swore on Celie's life—that you'd go to a healer and have your memory altered. You broke your word. Then you stole my ship—for the second time." You left me. Alone. Angrily brushing away that foolish thought, he snapped, "Why the hell do you think I followed you?"
Her lips curled contemptuously. "I don't keep deals with demons. Why would you care about that junk heap I borrowed? You have a fancy new ship, very efficient for hunting down victims, attacking them, then imprisoning them. It travels fast, too, so you can deliver your victims to your Controller buddies and collect your precious gold."
Demons? He stared at her, stunned by the unmistakable loathing in her expression. "Is that what this is about? Me delivering criminals to the Controllers? I told you I could explain."
"There's no explanation you could give. You're a shadower. That says it all. Now you're my prisoner."
Remembering Moriah's father and Pax, he groaned inwardly. When she had asked him if he was a shadower, it hadn't occurred to him that she might react this way. He should have told her the truth immediately. "Moriah, listen to me. It's not what you think. I tried to explain on Elysia and—"
"Spare me your lies. I don't want to hear any more." She turned away. "You'll stay here until I return. Then I'll decide what to do with you."
"Wait! You can't go to that iridon pickup alone."
She whirled, livid. "There's nothing you can do about it, shadower."
"Listen to me. I have to go with you. Not only is it dangerous, but Galen is headed that way."
"He's no worse than you are. It's too bad this interferes with your hunt and your gold—not that I give a damn."
Desperate, Sabin looked at Celie. "You have to stop her, Celie. It's too dangerous. Everyone knows about the shipment. Galen, a vicious murderer I was tracking, is headed there as we speak."
"Shut up!" Moriah ordered.
Shaking her head, Celie pressed her hand to her mouth and backed away. He turned toward Radd. "Radd, you know I'm right. You know Galen. You have to tell Moriah how dangerous he is. If she insists on going, then I need to go along."
"I'm going with her," Lionia growled. "As is Kiah. She'll be well protected. Silence your tongue before I cut it out."
Sabin kept looking at Radd, who offered another shrug. "I'm outnumbered, Sabin. But don't ya worry. Lionia and Moriah can take care of themselves."
Sabin closed his eyes. His head still pounded, and desperation flooded him. Galen was going to get away. After all the crimes the man had committed, the hijackings, the murders—Nissar, Aron—the bastard was going to get away. And, as much as he hated to admit it, real worry for Moriah gnawed at him. Not that she deserved his concern. It had to be the blow to his head making him soft.
"I'm leaving," she announced.
His eyes snapped open. "Wait!" He made one last attempt, making eye contact with the old woman. "Janaye, right? Won't you listen to reason? Won't anyone listen? This shipment is common knowledge. There are highly dangerous criminals planning to hijack it. I can help you. Let me bring my ship and offer my protection."
"That's it." Moriah strode back toward him. "He's a liar. He only wants the bounty." Her eyes locked with his, sparking fury. "I guess I'm going to have to force you to be quiet, before you put everyone in a panic."
She snatched up his sheath from a nearby table and pulled out the hypochambers. "I know what these are, Travers. My father used them. Pax used them. Am I going to have to sedate you?"
Would she really do that to him, after all that had passed between them? Actually, nothing had happened between them. Nothing except sex. Anything else was wishful thinking on his part. Besides, she'd already drugged him once. She was a con artist, and he was a fool. Sabin watched her, refusing to answer.
She whirled toward Radd. "How do these things work?"
"Ya just press this end to the jugular, then push this button here," Radd informed her cheerfully.
He was one dead mechanic, when Sabin got out of here—assuming he ever did. He glared at his former ship mechanic turned traitor, but Radd just smiled back guilelessly.
"It's your choice," Moriah told him. "I'm leaving these with Janaye. If you continue this ranting and raving, or cause any trouble, she'll knock you out. Is that clear enough?"
Where was the woman who had teased and tantalized him; the woman who h
ad made love to him with a stunning passion he would never forget? She wasn't the woman standing here, stiff and angry. This woman was filled with lies and hatred. The Moriah he thought he knew didn't exist.
"Yeah," he said, cursing himself for being every kind of fool. "You've made yourself perfectly clear."
Without another word, she turned and left. Celie shot an agonized glance his way, then ran after her. The others followed, Radd whistling jauntily. At the entry he turned and gave a farewell salute. "Night, Sabin. See ya." He took the solar lantern, shutting the door behind him and leaving the room pitch black.
That's one dead mechanic, Sabin thought again. He had the long hours of the night to think about a lot of things as he lay there, strapped in the harness.
In darkness. In pain. Alone.
* * * *
They released him from the harness the next morning, but chained one leg to a bolt in the wall and shackled his hands. Lionia and a Leor female named Kiah did the honors. Sabin was surprised to see a Leor in Moriah's camp, since they rarely strayed from their own kind. As tall as Lionia, but heftier, Kiah looked fierce and savage, with her bald head and obsidian eyes.
Knowing both women were ruthless warriors who wouldn't hesitate to kill him, he offered no resistance. Nor did he try to convince them to abandon their plans. He did ask to speak with Moriah, several times, but they ignored him.
While he was being chained and shackled, the two other women he'd seen last night—Marna and Tyna—stood guard with stunners. Janaye was also present, clutching her Yarton branch like a club. A sixth woman he didn't know, small and dark-haired, hovered nervously outside the doorway.
All the women looked at him as if he were kerani dung. He wasn't sure if it was because he was a shadower or a male, but he suspected his life expectancy in this settlement would be limited. Not that he'd be here long. He would find a way to escape, but he'd have to bide his time. He was chained and not at his physical best. His head still hurt, and he was nauseous and fatigued from a long night with little sleep.
Shadower Page 24
