Retaliation (The Praegressus Project Book 3)

by Aaron Hodges

  Liz blinked. “You what?”

  Ashley’s face turned beet red. “I never mentioned that? I graduated high school six months early…”

  Beside Liz, Chris laughed. “Well, maybe you can show us around when we visit this professor–”

  “No,” Mike and Maria cut in together.

  Chris fell silent, his mouth still open as he turned to stare at the two adults.

  Mike shook his head. “No,” he repeated, “It’s too much of a risk. Between the wings and the photos in all the papers, you’re too recognisable.”

  “So what, you expect us to just sit here?” Jasmine growled.

  “For now,” Mike answered steadily. Liz opened her mouth to protest, but he spoke over her. “But that doesn’t mean we’ll be doing nothing. I’ll go instead.”

  “You?” Chris asked, frowning.

  “Yes,” Mike’s smile had returned now, “I guess it’s time I told you why I’m here.”

  Liz glanced at the others, and then nodded hesitantly.

  “I was sent by the Lone Star State to assess the situation here on the ground. We’ve been watching the WAS for years – ever since they started accusing us of espionage. I’ve been here for over a year now, collecting information and sending updates back to my government. It won’t be the first risk I’ve taken here.”

  “So you’re a spy?” Jasmine asked bluntly.

  Mike shrugged. “I’m whatever I need to be,” he laughed, “And right now, I’m the best chance you have of clearing your names, and freeing your country from that tyrant you call a President.”

  16

  Sam groaned as he opened his eyes and found himself lying alone on a single bed. Shaking his head, he started to sit up, and then gasped as pain shot through his leg. His memory came rushing back, and he looked down and saw the bandages wrapped around his calf.

  Swearing under his breath, he carefully pulled himself into a sitting position and looked around the infirmary. There were several other beds crammed into the little room, but only one other was occupied. Mira lay in the bed beside his, her face pale, her hair slick with sweat. A sheet had been tucked up to her neck, concealing any sign of her injuries.

  Slowly, Sam lifted himself up and hobbled across to Mira’s bed. His wings hung heavy behind him and his leg refused to take his weight, but he made it without falling. Cursing Chris and the soldiers under his breath, he sat on the edge of Mira’s bed, and reached out to pull back the covers. Mira shifted slightly with the movement, and sighed with relief to see she was alive.

  Under the covers, Mira still wore a plain blue shirt, but beneath he could see her right shoulder had been wrapped in bandages. Her chest rose and fell in a gentle rhythm, and even with his inexperienced eyes, he could see Mira was in far better condition than Ashley had been when she’d been shot.

  “The doctor says she’ll be okay,” Sam turned as Chris’s voice came from the doorway.

  “Doctor?” he raised an eyebrow.

  Nodding, Chris stepped into the room and moved across to the bed. “Luxury service here. One of the Mad Women was a medic during the war. Retired a long time ago, but seems like she still knows her stuff. Apparently, the bullet passed right through her shoulder.”

  “That’s good, I guess. How about my leg?” Sam asked sourly.

  Chris flinched and looked away. “I told you I was no leader, Sam,” he whispered.

  “You’re right about that,” Sam groaned as he stood and stumbled back to his bed. Lying down, he tried to find a position where his calf didn’t ache. “So, who is she?”

  “What?” Chris blinked back.

  Sam laughed. “The woman who stood up to the Director. You know her – I saw it in your eyes.”

  A smile tugged at Chris’s lips. “She’s my nana.”

  Despite himself, Sam found himself grinning back. “I’m happy for you,” he shook his head, “It’s about time one of us had some good news.”

  “You aren’t angry?” Chris asked.

  “Furious,” Sam winked, “But I’m sure the girls have already put you through the ringer. How is Jasmine, by the way?”

  “Awake, and human,” Chris replied, “The change didn’t do anything for her temper though.”

  Sam laughed and shook his head. “Between you and her, I’ll never understand how the lot of you survived long enough to rescue us.”

  “Believe me, it was a close thing,” Liz said, appearing in the doorway, “Did you get the feather, Chris?”

  “Not yet,” Chris walked across to Mira’s bed and then hesitated, glancing back at them. “Ah, anyone else want to do it?”

  Liz crossed her arms. “Oh no, she’s all yours.”

  Chris rolled his eyes and turned back to Mira. His shoulders rose as he took a breath, and then he reached down and plucked a feather from her half-exposed wing. A dull growl rumbled up from Mira’s throat and she shifted beneath the covers. Her eyes remained closed, but Chris still made a hasty retreat.

  “What’s that for?” Sam asked.

  “Plan B,” Liz answered with a smile, “Now, do you mind if I borrow Chris? I’m not quite finished telling him off.”

  Chris’s cheeks turned red as Sam waved his permission. He lay back in his bed as the two of them disappeared into the hallway, and then smiled as Ashley took their place. The smile fell from his lips though as he saw her face. There were tears in her amber eyes, and she stepped hesitantly into the room, as though afraid of what he might do.

  “Sam…” she whispered.

  “Looks like we’ve traded places, Ash,” he joked with a smile. He patted the bed beside him.

  Ashley gave a half-choked laugh. Tears spilt from her eyes, but her head bounced in what could have been a nod, and she moved across the room to join him. As she lowered herself down and sat where Chris had been, he reached up and brushed the hair from her face.

  “What’s wrong, Ash?” he asked.

  A tremor went through Ashley and he felt her grow tense. For a second he thought she would flee, before the tension went from her in a rush and she slumped against the wall beside him.

  “I sorry, Sam,” Ashley whispered, her face stretched with sorrow, “I don’t know what happened, I just froze.”

  “What are you talking about, Ash?” leaning forward, Sam pulled her into his arms, “There’s nothing for you to be sorry for.”

  But she shook her head and pulled away from him. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there,” tears spilt down her cheeks, “I just stood there with Jonathan and watched while the soldiers surrounded you.”

  Looking into her eyes, Sam could see her terror, hiding just below the surface. He held her by the wrists as she tried to rise, and shook his head.

  “Ash, we all reacted differently. Heck, I wish Jasmine had held back, after what happened,” Sam sighed, “Besides, you were there when we needed you the most.”

  “When you needed me,” a faint smile crossed Ashley’s face, but it did not touch her eyes. Reaching down, she brushed her hand across his cheek. “I was so afraid, Sam,” her voice wavered.

  “It was your first fight, Ash,” Sam took her hand and pressed it to his lips, “Next time it will be easier.”

  Ashley closed her eyes. “I was terrified,” she stood suddenly, pulling herself free of Sam’s arms. He tried to stop her, but she stepped back and his hands found only empty air. She shook her head, her eyes wide. “When the soldiers came, all I could see was Halt, standing over me again, using me...” she broke off, choking on her grief. “I’m as helpless now as I was chained to that hospital bed.”

  “No,” Sam pushed himself up, though with his injured leg he couldn’t move after her. “You came back, you helped us. Mira and I would never have escaped the square without you.”

  Ashley’s shoulders sagged and she shook her head. “I don’t want to go back, Sam,” her voice shook and his heart went out to her, “I can’t… I won’t be used like that again.”

  “You won’t,” Sam insisted, “I won�
��t let them. I’ll keep you safe.”

  He watched as Ashley looked up. Her amber eyes met his, and a shadow passed across her face. “My parents told us that, once,” she whispered, “My sister and I, they said they’d protect us… said they’d keep the dark things away.”

  “Ash…” he tried to stand, to reach her.

  “Now they’re all dead: my mum, my dad, my sister. I’m all there is left. Sometimes I wish I could join them. When I think of all those kids… the ones they’re going to take because of us,” her voice broke then and she turned away, “I’m a coward. I should have made him kill me, before I let you help him.”

  “No, Ash,” he stumbled after her, but she was already halfway across the room, “That was my decision, it’s not your fault.”

  “Their blood is on our hands, Sam,” Ashley whispered, her eyes brimming with tears.

  Then she was gone, leaving Sam to stare at the empty doorway where she had stood.

  17

  Liz sighed as she lowered herself down into the armchair and looked up at Chris. They had just given Mira’s feather to the Texan, who had promptly left on his mission. Chris’s grandmother had retired to her room to rest. Liz could hardly blame her. After the morning’s events, even Liz was exhausted, and Maria Sanders did not have the advantage of youth or genetically enhanced stamina.

  Chris still stood in the middle of the lounge, looking around at the plain walls with nervous eyes. The room was empty except for another couch opposite her own, and a single painting of the Golden Gate Bridge on the far wall. Thread bare carpet covered the floor, and the couch sagged beneath her. Feeling the tip of a spring prodding her backside, she shifted into a more comfortable position.

  “You didn’t argue with them,” she said softly when Chris finally looked at her.

  Shrugging, Chris sat down on the opposite couch. “After what happened…I just thought…” he shook his head, “I’ve screwed up so many times… maybe it’s time we let the adults handle things.”

  Liz snorted. “As angry as Jasmine is, she has a point. Letting the adults handle things is what got us into this mess in the first place.”

  Chris sighed, and she could see the doubt in his eyes. The rush of his reunion with his grandmother was finally fading, and with it, there was no hiding from the consequences of his actions. They had almost lost everything.

  “What Mike said makes sense,” Chris said finally, “We’re too well known to go to the university.”

  “So what do we do in the meantime?” Liz pressed.

  “We wait,” Chris pursed his lips and stared at the worn carpet, “What do you think happened to Jonathan?”

  Liz blinked. In the rush of the fight, she had all but forgotten the translator. After a moment’s hesitation, she shook her head. “I don’t know. We left him on the edge of the square, he shouldn’t have been caught up with the soldiers.”

  “Unless he tried to help as well,” Chris commented.

  “I’m sure he’s okay, Chris,” Liz offered, “He wanted justice, but he wasn’t an idiot. He wouldn’t have gone charging into a squad of soldiers like a madman.”

  Chris winced, but Liz laughed, taking the sting from her words. When Chris looked back at her, their eyes met. Liz fell silent as she stared into his hazel eyes, searching for the boy she knew, but Chris blinked and looked away. Smirking, she stood and moved across to the other couch and sat down beside him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, lowering his eyes, “You were right, I should have waited...”

  Liz laughed quietly. “Yes, well, as I said earlier, I’m not quite finished with your punishment.”

  “Oh?” Chris raised an eyebrow.

  Heart hammering in her chest, Liz crawled across the sofa, until she crouched over Chris. He lay still beneath her, his eyes wide as they looked up at her. A tremor went through Liz, and desire swept through her. She desperately wanted to relax, to lay on Chris’s chest and feel him beneath her, to run her hands through his hair and feel his mouth on her neck.

  But she resisted. Instead, she slowly leaned down and touched her lips to his.

  She sensed Chris’s fear as he stilled, and almost changed her mind. But then Chris’s lips were pressing back against hers, and Chris’s hands were in her hair, pulling her deeper into the kiss. Her lips parted as his tongue darted out to meet hers, and a moan rumbled up from her throat. Heat spread through her chest, warming her heart. Her arms trembled, though from desire or the effort of holding herself up, she couldn’t tell.

  Carefully, Liz lowered herself down, until her breasts were resting against Chris’s chest. Even through the fabric of her t-shirt, she could feel the heat of his desire. She dug her fingers into the cloth of his shirt, feeling his hips move beneath her.

  A moan tore from Chris’s lips as they broke apart for a second. Her heart pounded as she leaned down and kissed him harder. His moan deepened, but his hands stilled, and now he was no longer kissing her back.

  Then Chris began to scream.

  Liz scrambled back as Chris thrashed on the couch. The desire died in her throat as a knife twisted in her stomach. Red lines radiated out from Chris’s mouth and his eyes were closed tight. He cried out again, though this time he managed to clamp his mouth shut mid-scream. He clenched his teeth, his breathing strained.

  Kneeling beside the sofa, all Liz could do was stare as the seizures racked Chris’s body. His back arched, his fingers clawing at the foam cushions, and his mouth opened again, though this time no sound came out. Tears poured from Liz’s eyes as the frail hope she’d held for their relationship died in her chest.

  Slowly the convulsions faded away, and Chris grew still. His eyes flickered open, but his breath still came in ragged gasps. Their eyes met, and she could see the pain he was struggling to conceal. A smile tugged at his lips as he tried to sit up.

  “Don’t,” she whispered, holding out her hand, “You’ll hurt yourself.”

  But Chris only gritted his teeth and pulled himself up. “I’m okay, Liz–” he broke off as a coughing fit shook him.

  Liz stood, but he waved a hand and sucked in another breath. “That was some kiss,” he licked his lips and forced another grin, “You took my breath away.”

  A shudder ran through Liz. She tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Swallowing, she tried again, but it was no use. Her hands shook, and she wrapped her arms around her chest before the trembling gave her away.

  Chris’s brow creased. “Sorry, bad joke.”

  “No, Chris,” she managed finally. Her eyes stung but now she did not cry. “We can’t… I can’t keep doing this. I thought… but I was wrong, it’s not going to work. I can’t…”

  Grief swelled in her chest as she started to back away. Chris struggled to rise and come after her, but the venom had robbed him of his strength, and he failed to escape the sofa.

  “Liz!” he called after her.

  But she was already gone. Spinning, Liz sprinted through the doorway and out into the hall. She longed to turn back, to sit beside Chris and let him hold her, but that was impossible. A lonely grief filled her, but she knew it was for the best. Her love could only bring pain and suffering now.

  Only when she finally found an empty room, did Liz let her tears fall.

  18

  The Chead woke to the whisper of voices, to the scent of fear and a red haze that wrapped around her mind. Opening her eyes, the Chead screamed as the harsh white light flooded her vision. Pain split her head, and the red swirled. The Chead growled, rage curling through her veins and feeding her strength. A pang of hunger came from her stomach as she staggered to her feet.

  Looking around the room, she found the grey eyes of another Chead watching her. He made no effort to move as she stumbled, her feet unwieldy beneath her. Her hand caught a bench and the Chead steadied herself. Red swirled across her vision, and she gritted her teeth. Clenching her fingers, she felt the steel bench crumple beneath her strength.

  Laughter whispered up
from her chest as she straightened. Joy swept through her as she balled her hands into fists, feeling their power.

  Then her ears twitched, as somewhere in the room, something whimpered. The Chead stilled, and she felt again the ache in her stomach, the rage in her chest. Slowly she looked around, taking in the plain steel benches and strange contraptions that filled the room she had woken in. From somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice whispered to her.

  Laboratory.

  Then her eyes found the pitiful creatures huddling in the corner. They watched her with wide eyes, scrambling over one another to escape her gaze. Their fear was heavy in the air, a rich, savoury scent that made her stomach rumble. Opening her mouth, the Chead tasted it on her tongue, and felt her anger respond.

  Grinning, the Chead stepped towards them, and watched as they flinched. She laughed then, ecstasy filling her as she feasted on their terror. But it was not enough – not nearly enough. In two steps, she closed the distance between them.

  The one unlucky enough to be standing at the front tried to dash past her. But the creature moved with slow, ungainly steps, and she reached out and caught it easily. Her fist closed on its wrist, and with a wrench of her arm she hauled it back. The creature’s feet gave way and it fell to its knees.

  “Susan, please no!” its voice grated on her ears, and reaching out she grabbed it by the throat.

  The creature gave a strangled cry as she lifted it into the air and hurled it at the wall. A sharp crack echoed through the room as it struck, and she grinned as the creature slumped against the floor unmoving. Laughter whispered from the Chead’s lips as she turned to face the remaining creatures.

  The laughter went on and on as she stepped into their ranks. Some tried to flee, racing across the room in a desperate attempt to escape. But her brother barred their path, flinging them back into the room with laughter of his own. He did nothing else to interfere, only stood and watched as she had her fun.

  Others begged like the first, but their cries died in their throat as she tore them apart. Some called her Susan, others doctor, but the words were unfamiliar, and their pitiful screams only fuelled her rage. She drank in the sound of their terror, feasting on the tang of blood, and roared, drunk with her newfound power.