Wordlessly, the thugs flank us and gesture in the direction of a narrow hallway, the peeling floral paper ghoulishly lit by flickering gas lamps.
“Enjoy your stay!” Scarface says, with an exaggerated hearty wave as he disappears out the front door.
Our accommodations on the second floor are every bit as bleak as the inn’s exterior, and the vague promise of a jug of water is the only thing the thugs leave us with when they lock the door behind them. The draughty room we are confined to consists of two narrow cots jammed up against crumbling walls, a lean-to dresser with a missing drawer, a hard uneven bench, and a filthy barred window with a broken pane of glass. The stench of mold in the tiny adjoining bathroom is enough to curdle my stomach, and the thicket of cobwebs dangling over the cast-iron tub sends Ayma into a panicked retreat with renewed fears of the monstrous insects lurking within.
“At least it’s only for one night,” Velkan says, forcing a cheerful tone. “We’ll be back on board the stealth fighter tomorrow.”
“We’re not taking Furax and a ship full of body poachers to Cwelt,” I say firmly. “I can’t risk the lives of my people. Somehow or other we’ll find a way out of here tonight.” I smooth a hand over my hair, frowning. I have to get the tanner out too, but first I need to figure out how to convince the others that we can’t leave her behind.
Velkan gestures at the window. “We can break off some pieces of glass to use as weapons.”
Ayma arches a brow. “Against two armed guards built like ships?”
I walk over to the window and peer through the grime at the bars outside. “Those bars look rusted through. We may be able to break them off and use them as weapons too.”
“I’m on it,” Phin says, grabbing a threadbare, gray blanket off one of the cots. He wraps it around his meaty fist and punches out the remaining glass with a swift snap. Ayma picks through the shards that land on the sill and the floor inside and selects a couple of jagged pieces for each of us. For several minutes, Phin wrestles with one of the rusted bars, but despite his best efforts, it remains fixed in place. “It’s not rusted through,” he grunts.
“Anything else we can use as a weapon?” I ask, looking around at the meager furnishings.
Velkan reaches for one of the cots and flips it over. “We can sharpen these slats into spears.” He grins at me. “That’s your weapon of choice on Cwelt, isn’t it?”
A pang of pain hits as Cwelt and Buir, and my parents come rushing back to mind. I hope they’re safe and not worrying incessantly about me. No doubt my father’s chief advisor, Parthelon, will make the most of my absence to highlight how reckless I am for not fleeing to the caves along with the rest of them. I’m sure he’s hoping I never return so he can rule in my place after my father.
“I bet you can do some damage with this,” Velkan says, handing me a slat. I sit down on the other cot and begin sharpening the end with a piece of glass. A familiar motion. I sharpened many a wooden spear before my father entrusted me with an iron tip. I try to block the images of my mother and father and our people languishing in the caves on Cwelt, and focus instead on the thrill of the hunt and the thought of freedom. If ever I missed the serenity and innocence of the sacred triangle, it’s now when I’m face-to-face with the unimaginable evil of the body poachers.
Velkan’s right that this is my weapon of choice. I can kill quickly and efficiently with a spear in my hand. But I’ve only ever killed a living being for food. I’m not sure I can aim this makeshift weapon at the throat of another person and end a life to save one. I glance around at my friends who have become like family to me. Could I kill to save them?
5
Ayma watches me intently as I scrape away curled wooden splinters from a second slat. “I feel so useless,” she says. “I’ve never had to fend for myself before, let alone try to make a weapon.”
Phin folds his burly arms across his chest. “You piloted the stealth fighter, the most advanced ship ever built by the Syndicate. I wouldn’t call that useless.”
“And once we reach Mhakerta’s air space, we’ll be relying on your knowledge to get us inside,” I add. “We all have our role to play. We’re a good team.”
Ayma arches a brow at me. “You sound confident we’re going to be able to make it out of here and escape back to our ship undetected.”
“Getting out of here will be a challenge,” I acknowledge. “Getting back to the ship is entirely possible, as most everyone will be drunk and passed out by the looks of things around here.” I hesitate and look down at the slat I’m whittling on. “The hardest part will be rescuing the tanner woman.”
I tense at the sharp intake of breath that follows.
“You can’t be serious.” Ayma’s tone drips disapproval. “If we do manage to get out of here—and the odds are heavily stacked against us—our only hope of staying alive is to make an immediate beeline back to the ship.”
“She’s right, Trattora,” Velkan says gently. “I understand why you want to help the tanner—I wish we could too—but you’ll only end up getting us all killed.”
“I’m not asking you to help.” I fight to hold my voice steady. “I can move through this town like a shadow. I’ll figure out a way to rescue her myself. The rest of you can wait for me at the ship. If I don’t show up before the body poachers descend on the landing pad, leave without me.”
Velkan rests a heavy hand on my wrist to stop me whittling. I look up into his soft, brown eyes questioningly.
“Remember what you told us?” he says, in a chiding tone. “From now on, we live and die as a team. We’re not leaving here without you. If you’re determined to do this, we’ll help you.”
Phin and Ayma exchange a quick glance and then Ayma shrugs. “I agreed we were a team. I’m not going back on my word.”
I tweak a grateful smile around at my friends. “Then we’d better finish getting our weapons ready for whatever opportunity comes our way.”
We spend the next half hour sharpening several slats and divvying up the resulting spears and jagged glass shards, while discussing our plan of attack.
“I say we strike when they bring us that jug of water they promised us,” Phin says.
“I’m not holding out much hope of getting any water after all this time,” I say. “We can’t sit around waiting on those thugs to show back up. What if they don’t come back for us until morning? We need to create a diversion to draw them in. And then we can make our move. They won’t expect us to be armed.”
Velkan rubs his chin thoughtfully. “We could pretend one of us is badly dehydrated. If we pound on the door long enough they’re bound to come and check on us.”
We all look pointedly at Ayma.
“What?” she says, nonplussed.
“Do you want to slit some throats or play the patient?” I say, a grin playing on my lips.
Ayma rolls her eyes. “I don’t know one end of a spear from another, but I can look convincingly dehydrated.”
“I’ll take you up on that generous offer,” I say getting to my feet. “Now let’s see how big of a racket we can make.”
For the next few minutes, Velkan, Phin and I take turns yelling and hammering on the door until we finally make out angry shouts drifting up the stairwell.
“We probably woke them out of a drunken stupor,” I say. “Keep banging on the door until they come up here.”
Phin obliges with an incessant pounding, his powerful fists shaking the door with such force it looks like it might break free from its hinges.
“Knock it off!” a thick voice bellows from the other side of the door.
We quieten down and signal to each other to get ready.
“What’s going on in there?”
“We need water,” I shout through the door in a plaintive tone. “Furax said to make sure we were well looked after. Our friend is badly dehydrated. Please, hurry!”
There’s a note of silence as if whoever is outside is weighing up the situation. I listen for the sound o
f muffled voices conferring, but I hear nothing making me think that one of the thugs has come alone, which is exactly what we were hoping for.
“Back up against the far wall and kneel down on the floor,” the voice says. “I’m coming in loaded and I’ll shoot anything that moves.”
I give a curt nod to the others. Ayma curls up next to the door on the floor. The rest of us back up to the wall and kneel down.
“You can open the door now,” Phin yells.
There’s a heavy click as the door is unlocked, then one of the thugs peers tentatively around it, aiming his gun into the room. He casts a quick glance at us lined up against the back wall and then frowns down at Ayma lying at his feet. Her cheeks are flushed from being pinched to bring the blood to them and her ordinarily sleek hair is tousled about her face. The thug pokes her in the ribs with the toe of his boot. Ayma lets out a pitiful bleat in response.
“Furax is not going to like it if you let her die,” I yell across at the thug.
“All right, you lot stay right where you are,” he says, apparently satisfied Ayma’s ailing condition is legitimate. “I’ll take her with me.” He slings his rifle over one shoulder and bends down to pick her up.
Every hunting instinct in me comes to life. I can almost sense the beat of the thug’s heart as I reach for a sharpened slat behind my back and take aim. It whistles through the air and strikes him directly in the throat. He keels forward with a muffled gurgle, blood spurting from the wound. Ayma rolls out from beneath him before he hits the floor. Like lightning, we descend on him, drag him all the way inside the room, and fish around for his weapons. I don’t let myself dwell on what I’ve done, only on the lives I’m saving.
Besides the rifle, the thug’s packing a pistol and a hunting knife. I snatch up the knife before anyone can object. Ghil taught me the value of carrying a well-concealed blade at all times. Phin pockets the pistol and I stash the remaining sharpened slats in my BodPak. I glance back down at the thug’s inert body. He has already lost consciousness and will bleed out in minutes thanks to my accurate aim. I take no pride in what I have done, but I grasp onto the hope of escape that this turn of events has given us.
“We don’t have long before his partner or Bones will wonder where he’s at,” Phin says. “We need to disappear out of here.” He inches toward the open door and peers cautiously around it before waving us forward. We slip out into the dimly-lit hallway and begin creeping along it, wincing at every creak in the worn floorboards. I grip the carved balustrade of the staircase and tiptoe my way downstairs, one step at a time. From my vantage point, I can’t see anyone behind the counter in the foyer. I dart a quick glance around the space and spot Bones over by the front door sweeping the floor with a broom.
“Bones is in the foyer,” I whisper back to the others. “No sign of the other thug.”
I wait for several minutes, but the second thug doesn’t surface. The insistent tap of the pendulum on the antique clock grows louder in my ears, reminding me that time is slipping away; for us, for the tanner woman, for my people on Cwelt, for my birth parents.
I turn to the others. “We need to make a move. Velkan and I will take Bones down when his back is turned. Phin, you and Ayma keep an eye out for the other thug or anyone else who tries to come in.”
Phin pulls out the thug’s pistol and hands it to Velkan. “You’re more likely to need this than me in the next few minutes.”
Silently, Velkan and I descend the stairs and pad across the foyer. I grip my knife in one hand and a sharpened slat in the other. At the last second, Bones senses our approach, but I’ve already read his body language, the subtle tensing of muscles when the prey becomes aware of impending doom. I leap toward him and pin his head back, holding the hunting knife to his pulsing fishbelly-white throat.
“Where’s the other thug?” I whisper in his ear.
A strangled gurgle comes from his throat. I ease the knife back a fraction and repeat my question as Velkan comes alongside me.
Bones’ eyelids flutter with fear. He fixes a frozen gaze on me. “Gaw, gink.”
I jab the blade tighter to his throat. “Don’t play games with me. I know you can understand me. Where is he?”
Velkan lays a restraining hand on my arm. “Let him go, Trattora.”
“Are you out of your mind?” I glare at Velkan indignantly. “Not unless he cooperates.”
Velkan leans across me and forces Bones’ jaws apart. The knife falls from my hand and clatters across the floor. A twitching stump of purplish muscle is all that remains of Bones’ tongue.
6
A rattling sound at the front door startles me out of my shocked state. Someone is trying to force the front door open. I snatch my knife up from the floor and rapidly scan the foyer for somewhere to hide. Bones flicks with his wrist to the flagstone opening behind the counter, and gives an urgent nod.
The gesture catches me off guard. I throw him a baffled look. Is he trying to help us? My heart pounds with the terrifying knowledge that I have to make a spur-of-the-moment decision to trust a stranger who could potentially save or doom us.
I grit my teeth, turn tail and run toward the flagstone opening. Without hesitation, Velkan follows me inside. We throw ourselves down in the gloomy space just as the front door bursts open. I squeeze between a pile of stacked chairs and a couple of folding tables leaning up against the wall. Velkan tucks himself beneath another stack of chairs a few feet away. My chest heaves up and down as I survey my surroundings. A small table and a couple of chairs at the far end of the space sport the remnants of a meal and a deck of cards. My nose itches from the dust and I concentrate all my efforts on trying not to sneeze. I hope Ayma and Phin took cover upstairs.
Heavy footsteps thump across the foyer, and out of the corner of my eye the second thug comes into view. “Where’s Marco?” he demands, slurring his words. Bones grabs a beer bottle from the coffee table and holds it upside down, then gestures with his thumb to the door.
He’s covering for us.
The thug snorts and throws himself down in the armchair, which tilts to one side under his weight. “Good for nothing layabout. Drunk his way through the entire stash.”
Bones walks behind the counter and pulls out a clouded bottle of some vile-looking liquid that he offers to the thug. Instantly, the thug’s mood improves. He wiggles forward on the armchair a few inches and reaches for the bottle. “Bones, my man. How’d you hide this from him?”
Bones gives a modest shrug.
The thug takes a long draft from the bottle before sinking back in his chair with a satisfied sigh and stretching out his legs. “Did Marco bring those prisoners some water? Can’t have them complaining to Furax in the morning.”
Bones nods and busies himself wiping down the wooden counter.
The thug lets out a long burp. The pendulum on the hideous dragon-bird clock taps back and forth for the longest time. I close my eyes in relief when gentle snores drift through the archway. A moment later, Bones peeks his head inside and does another lightning flick of his wrist indicating that it’s time for us to move. I pick myself up gingerly from the floor and tiptoe toward the arched opening. Just as I’m about to slip through, a horrendous crash behind me brings me to a screeching halt. I spin around in dismay. Velkan has knocked over the pile of chairs he was hiding beneath. He scrambles for cover, fumbling in vain for his pistol, which has skidded beneath the stacked tables.
I dive behind another stack of chairs just as the thug comes barreling through the opening, gun aimed directly at where Velkan is crouching. “On your feet,” the thug snarls. “Where are your friends?”
His eyes dart sideways to where I’m tucked in as far as I can behind the dusty furniture.
“I can see your hair through those chairs,” he says calmly, his gun still pointed at Velkan. “Hands in the air and walk out slowly.”
I grip the hilt of my knife tightly, weighing my options. I could throw the knife and slice the bulging vein in the t
hug’s neck with deadly accuracy, but there’s a chance he’d get off a round and kill Velkan too. Reluctantly, I slip the knife into the back of my waistband and stand. I walk out from behind the chairs, hands raised.
The thug’s eyes are bloodshot, but alert. “Where are the other two?”
I raise a cocky brow at him. “They got away.”
His glassy eyes probe me skeptically. “Let’s hope for their sake they did, because if I find them hiding in here, I’ll know you lied to me and I’ll have to kill someone.” He emphasizes the word someone like it’s a delicacy he’s looking forward to sampling.
I fight to keep my expression neutral even as a spasm of fear ricochets down my spine. I hope Phin and Ayma have the sense to stay hidden. They could still escape. But then I remember our pledge; they won’t leave without us. The thug gestures with his gun for Velkan and me to move out into the foyer. “Slowly, no sudden moves,” he growls as I edge through the archway.
Bones stands still as a statue, as if trying to meld himself to the counter, a dispassionate look on his face.
The thug gives him the once over and makes a disapproving clicking sound at the back of his throat. “I’m disappointed in you, Bones. Guess I was wrong about you and your loyalty, even though I was the one got you off Diretus and gave you this cushy position.” He pauses and sighs dramatically. “You knew they were hiding in here, didn’t you?”
Bones’ thin lips dissolve into a white streak of fear. An agonizing silence follows, broken only by the wretched clock behind the counter sounding out its insistent rhythm. And then there’s a loud pop and a crimson sinkhole forms in the center of Bones’ forehead. He tumbles forward without making a sound.
“No!” I scream. I lunge toward Bones and fall at his side.
The thug shakes his head, his mashed-in face a picture of mock sadness atop his bulging neck. “Bones knew better. I hate it when people lie to me.”
Girl of Stone (The Expulsion Project Book 2) Page 5
