by Amy Braun
“I need to find my tool belt, and their power source,” I half mumbled, after checking to make sure the guards couldn’t hear me. “If I can get to that, I might be able to leech some from them.”
“I get how the tools help, but what are you going to use the power for?”
I hesitated. “Remember the Volt?”
“Yes–Oh.”
She became incredibly nervous, and I didn’t blame her.
“I made another small one just in case we needed it, but it has to be charged to take out the power or stun the Dogs.”
“Is that a good idea?” she cautioned. “Didn’t go so well last time.”
No, it hadn’t. Last time, I used the Volt to short-circuit the lock on the helm of the Behemoth, which we had been crashing in. The jolt of raw, electric power nearly cost me my life. If I had pushed the Volt to its maximum power, the electromagnetic charge would likely have vaporized me and everyone else on that hideous ship.
Since then, I’d been experimenting with the Volt and its capabilities, albeit with excessive care and under Sawyer and Riley’s obsessive scrutiny. Aside from theories and the nearly disastrous trial run, I didn’t know how strong my newest Volt was. I’d tinkered with it to change the length of the charge, but I hadn’t tested it yet. It could still disrupt any mechanism it was magnetized to within a hundred feet, but attached to a person in a crowd, and opened to its full strength?
Well, I suspected that even the most heartless marauders would listen to me.
“It’s the only advantage we might have,” I reasoned. “Especially if they have wild Hellions…” I trailed off, forcing myself not to think about pale faces with shark teeth smeared with blood, or crimson eyes that seemed to smile as onyx claws sank into flesh and started to rip it open–
I shook my head, drawing back to the moment. Thinking about what might happen didn’t matter half as much as what I did now.
“We don’t have a choice, Gemma,” I told her sternly. “Not if we want them to live.”
She looked at me with uncertainty. Despite our rough beginnings–her knocking me out and wanting to steal my boots–I trusted her now. If she didn’t agree to this, I had no other plan.
Relief flooded over me when she nodded and whispered, “Fine, but I should take the lead. You’re terrible at combat.”
I snickered. As much as I loved Gemma, her bluntness still caught me off guard sometimes.
Gemma glanced at the front of the cave to check on the guards, then sat down in the cage and unzipped the side of her right boot. After rummaging around her ankle, she withdrew a lock-picking kit and a foldout knife so small it looked like a nail file. Glancing one more time at the mouth of the cavern, she slowly reached through the bars and began picking the lock of the cage. Rather than watching her work, I watched the guards at the front of our cave. They were speaking in low voices, talking about something I couldn’t hear quite yet. But my suspicions were raised. Just because Ryland told them not to go near us, didn’t mean they would listen. They were pirates, after all.
One of them, Benson, I think, jerked his head in our direction. My pulse began to race.
“Gem,” I whispered.
When she didn’t answer, I stole a glimpse in her direction. She was yanking her hand back into the cage, zipping up her boot. I couldn’t see the knife or the lock picks. The two men entered the cave with sneers on their grimy faces. Benson targeted me, while the other man–who actually looked more like a gorilla–licked his lips at Gemma and fondled her with his eyes.
“Which one do you want first?” Benson asked.
“Nash’s whore,” the gorilla-man answered, already stalking for her cage. She turned onto her hands and knees, like a cat shifting to pounce. That should have been Gorilla’s first warning, but he thought his size would make a difference.
In contrast, Benson wasn’t much bigger than me, but there was a wiry strength to him, something that could prove deadly if I wasn’t careful. Gemma might have the advantage of fighting skill, but she would have her hands full with Gorilla. I was going to have to fight Benson myself.
“Keys,” Benson said, his dark eyes turning hungry and wild as he stared at me.
“Wait your damn turn,” growled the larger man.
Benson shot him an icy look. “You think I’m gonna wait for you to finish with Nash’s bitch? Gimme the fucking keys!”
Gorilla’s lip peeled up into a nasty snarl, but he started fishing around his pant pockets for the cage keys. Gemma’s eyes met mine, and she nodded, a gesture that told me to be ready.
I didn’t like what that implied, but I nodded anyway.
Benson caught the keys thrown at him and crouched in front of my cage. Gorilla was watching his partner impatiently, forgetting all about Gemma. Benson grinned happily while he unlocked my cell door. I shuffled into the corner as the door was wrenched open. Benson wasted no time. His hand shot for my ankle, but I moved quicker. My foot slammed into his face. Something crunched under my boot and made Benson scream. When I pulled back, his nose was twisted at a horrific angle.
“Bitch!” he screamed, spitting the blood that dribbled onto his upper lip. He forced himself into the cage, using both hands to grab my ankles. I kicked and thrashed, but his grip was iron. He pulled hard, forcing me onto my back and dragging me out of the cage.
He pounced on me, raising his fist to hit my face. I turned my head as the punch descended, feeling his knuckles graze my ear as they hit the ground. Benson yelped as his fist crunched into the dirt, and I made my attack. My fist swung into his jaw, wrenching his head to the side but not getting him off me. I punched his gut and heard the air leave his stomach. He still didn’t move.
I expected Gorilla to march over and get me under control, but the sudden screech of a cage door and a startled shout told me that Gemma had made her move. She could handle herself. I had the upper hand in the struggle right now, still punching at Benson to keep him from hitting me back, but she was right. I wasn’t much of a fighter, and Benson had me pinned. The moment he got a firm hold on me, I was done for.
Lifting and twisting my hips, I pivoted to throw Benson off me. Relieved from the pressure, I rolled and put my knee on his chest. I trapped one wrist, making him growl and swing his other hand into my ribs. I winced at the pain, but caught his other wrist so he couldn’t hit me twice. He roared with fury, jerking and pulling his wrists to get free.
I thought fast. My knee lunged into his chin. The impact sent a shock through my leg, but his head struck the ground and jarred him. Now that he was dazed, I was able to trap his hands by his side, holding them down with my own hands and pushing my legs against his ribs. It was a steady hold, though I didn’t know how long I could keep it up.
Sounds of a struggle came from my right. I looked over and watched Gemma dart away from Gorilla. His arms, chest and stomach, had small slices on them, and there were light bruises on his face. He was furious at the small woman who was literally running circles around him.
His hand lashed out and tried to grab her hair, and she barely dodged away in time. She finally decided to finish the fight. Avoiding another swing, she leaped onto the top of her empty cage. Gorilla stepped back, cursing in surprise. Gemma pivoted a powerful kick, her heel colliding with the larger man’s head. He stumbled, tripping over his massive feet and landing on one knee. She jumped down from the cage, her knee slamming into his face again on the way down. He toppled again. One more solid kick to his face knocked him out cold.
Letting myself get distracted by Gemma’s impressive display cost me.
A solid fist smashed into my cheek, catching me completely off guard and throwing me from Benson. I landed on my side, blinking stars from my eyes. Hands wrapped around my throat and squeezed, crushing my windpipe. Pain scorched through the side of my neck, where Davin had bitten me. I clawed at Benson’s arms, kicked my feet, slapped at his face. None of it moved him.
He curved one hand around my neck and drew his other fist back. I f
lailed, hoping to stop the punch. I couldn’t.
But he didn’t hit me, either.
Gemma grabbed his hand and shoved her knife into his wrist. Benson screamed, the sound cut short when she drove her knee into his temple. He dropped away from her, and off me. With one more boot to the face, he was out cold.
Gemma turned to me and quirked an eyebrow.
“Better, but you’re still terrible.”
I scowled, but took her extended hand. Gemma pulled me to my feet and let go almost immediately. She walked to the two fallen marauders and patted them down. I touched my bandages, wincing when I felt fresh blood seeping through the outside of them. It hurt, but I had no choice except to endure the throbbing pain. I walked to the entrance to watch out for other guards. There weren’t any, though I did hear a commotion coming from the tunnel on the right. I could have sworn I heard Ryland shouting, and a crowd responding with cheers.
There was a small jingle behind me. Gemma sauntered toward me, carrying three extra knives, two flintlocks, and two heavy leather pouches.
“Really?” I huffed.
She merely blinked and pocketed the coins in the pockets on the side of her pants. “They kidnapped us. I consider this reversed ransoming.”
Shaking my head, I glanced down the hall again to make sure it was clear.
“We need to find my tools and coat. Then I can power the Volt.”
Gemma’s shoulders tensed. She must have heard the crowd. Her calm coolness began to turn into angry heat. She tucked the weapons through her belt loops. “What about the guys?”
Fear trickled back into my mind, but I forced it down. “If we don’t force their hand, we’ll never get to them. We need to play this a different way.”
And trust that Sawyer, Riley and Nash would survive long enough for us to save them.
Chapter 11
Finding the circuit breaker wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, but as we trotted through the narrow corridor, the shouts and cheers echoed toward us, and it became difficult to turn away. There were no closed doors in this earthy network of tunnels, so following the wires snaking along the roof to the central electrical room was easy.
Then we heard the high pitched shriek, and the crowd’s raucous cheers halted. Even if Ryland were foolish enough to think he could control a Hellion, that sound would still make a grown man shiver. Steadily, the hoots and hollers of the crowd returned, if more subdued. The Hellion’s screams didn’t have the same restraint.
Gemma was tense at the entrance to the electrical room. She looked like she would throw her common sense away at any second. The man she loved was in the Crater, fighting for his life against a creature that literally wanted to devour it.
I understood that pain all too well. Sawyer and Riley could be trapped with Nash, all of them fighting together, but what if it was one on one, man against monster? What if Riley was about to die under the Hellion’s claws? What if Sawyer had been chosen to go first, the main attraction in a sadistic, bloody horror show?
Don’t think about it, Claire, I scolded myself. Not now.
I tugged Gemma’s elbow so she would look at me. Her face appeared stony, but her eyes were frenzied. Fear of what could be happening to Nash was breaking her strong, confident demeanor, and she was seconds away from abandoning our plan and running to find him.
“It’s right here,” I whispered, dragging her into the small room with me. “I need you to watch the door.”
Gemma pulled her arm from my grip and stood inside the door, out of sight for anyone who might come around the corner. I left her and scanned the electrical room, which was an absolute mess.
Dozens of wires crisscrossed along the ceiling drooped like vines in a jungle. Work tables seemed to have been dropped in the room without any aesthetic thought. Scrap metal and rusted tools cluttered their tops. If there was a method to this madness, I certainly didn’t see it.
But under the dim light bulbs tacked into the wooden support beams surrounding me, I saw my belt. I ran for it, pulling it off the floor and rifling through every pocket to see what was damaged or missing.
All of my tools were gone. A pang of loss hit me. They were simple tools that could be replaced, but they had been with me for years. Finding anything close to their quality would be difficult, if it were even possible.
The torches and flashbangs were gone as well, probably for the value of their parts. I hated that they were gone, but at least Gemma had taken extra weapons.
But there was one thing they didn’t take from me. The Volt was still in its secret pouch on my belt. A new sense of hope started to grow. Everything else could be replaced with time, but this... This I needed now.
Strapping my belt around my waist, I looked at the tools on the table. They were so crude they could have been made of stone, but I had no time to be picky.
I grabbed rubber electrical gloves, small extension cables, wire strippers, and a rusty screwdriver, then hurried over to the main circuit breaker. It was easy to find, though the metal box itself was barely visible. Muddled wires and cords were lumped over top of it, plugged into various outlets around the edges. I pushed the wires aside, dumping them off the breaker. The locks were flipped open, so it was easy to pull the panel free.
The inside looked worse than the outside. Cables were wrapped around oxidized connectors, switches were flipped in random directions, and tiny lights rapidly flickered red and green. Electricity meters waved their arrows back and forth. Labels were faded, peeled off, or illegible.
I had to do this blind.
The one positive I had going for me was the general setup. I had worked with enough circuit breaker designs to know which wires to manipulate for the Volt. It wouldn’t hurt to get creative, either.
Still examining the mechanics, I slid the gloves on. Then I started pushing aside wires and looking at how they were connected to the base panel. The thicker wires would likely power larger devices–heating systems, air filters, and generators–while the thinner wires probably for the lights strung through the tunnels.
Juggling the tools in one hand, I fished out the Volt from my belt and pushed the button on the top. Though I knew the device would be useless until it was charged, it didn’t calm my nerves when I touched it. I remembered the white-hot, blistering agony that tore through me when I used it to override the helm-lock on the Behemoth. If I’d known what I was making and how powerful it could be…
I shoved the thought away and concentrated, looking at the tiny, pronged connectors on the top and bottom halves of the Volt. They drew in an electrical charge and stored it in the two silver disks holding the device together. The Volt was made of graphtium, the strongest metal created in Aon, forged specifically to absorb and withstand heavy amounts of electricity. There was a limit in the amount of graphtium I had been able to find, but it worked perfectly for the Volt’s purpose, causing the electricity to supercharge when I applied pressure to the button on the top. As the disks separated, the charge built like a kinetic bomb, finally exploding into a massive electro-charged pulse capable of knocking out any electric devices within a hundred feet.
Attached to a person, it was capable of disintegrating them. I’d never tried it for that purpose, but after nearly being killed by my own creation, I had a pretty safe assumption that it could be used for murder.
I placed the Volt on the top of the circuit breaker, then grabbed some connector cables from my belt, stripped the edges, connected them to the plug bases, then wrapped the open ends around the prongs of the Volt. The feed began rerouting itself, a steady whirr coming from the Volt as it was charged.
I continued stealing electricity to power the Volt, wrapping wire after wire around the prongs, the graphtium holding the electricity in place. Little snaps of lightning crackled under the disks, making me wince and step back.
