Darr

by Theresa Beachman

  The young man lunged forward, his knuckles white, stabbing the Scutter with the cattle prod in a spitting explosion of sparks. The Scutter jackknifed under the electric charge before its whip-fast pincers snapped the prod clean in half. It spun and launched itself again, forcing the bars to submit under its raw strength.

  The gap widened.

  The Scutter shifted and pressed its spiky body against the gap. A murderous talon broke free and slammed against the young man’s temple. He stumbled, dropping the useless prod, and the Scutter let loose a harsh scream of triumph. Its lower limbs fired through the gap in a slashing blur and snagged the man’s shirt. He stumbled backward, and the fabric tore, but claws snagged his belt, dragging him close. He howled in terror as the Scutter’s tail arced, the poisonous tip vibrating in anticipation.

  Darr inched his way across the wall of his cell until he reached the open doorway. The tattooed man was now limp, sprawled on the floor in a widening pool of black blood. Darr took a hesitant step out the cage, his ears straining for the sound of reinforcements running down the corridor.

  “Help me, man. Don’t fucking leave me,” the young man blubbered from the Scutter’s grip. He was restrained against the cage bars, his hair finally disheveled. Snot ran down his face as he beat a futile protest against the smooth chitin of the Scutter’s thorax.

  Darr bent and looped his fingers into the SIG holstered on the dead man’s hip. He wiped the blood from the weapon against his thigh, then tucked it into the back of his waistband.

  He stepped into the doorway, checking left and right then, with a final guiding press deep into the Scutter’s instincts, he limped up the corridor, ignoring the wet, garbled screams behind him.

  Violet. He was going to find Violet.

  13

  Violet woke to an excruciating hammer of pain across her temples. Her cheek pressed against cold, bumpy rock as she blinked her way back into consciousness.

  A female voice spoke above her head. “You okay? Let me help you up.”

  A hand gripped her upper arm and lifted her away from the floor. Everything swam in a dizzying swirl as her heart did its best to escape her ribcage. Careful fingers smoothed the hair from her forehead.

  Violet squinted against the bright artificial light. Squatting beside her was the woman she’d seen being grabbed earlier. The woman’s hazel eyes were concerned, her hair a dark mess. “You okay?”

  Violet nodded and sat up straighter. “I think so.” She glanced around, trying to make sense of where she was. A large bed filled one corner of the room, while in another was a desk with several old-fashioned chairs and a sitting area with a small kitchenette.

  “What happened?”

  “You put up a bit of a fight when they brought you here, and they knocked you out.”

  Violet raised tentative fingers and touched a tender lump on the right of her forehead. “Ow.”

  The other woman grimaced. “Be grateful we don’t have a mirror.”

  Violet dropped her arm as she tried to stand and promptly fell over. She rolled onto her side, confused.

  Her feet were shackled. Thick leather cuffs protected her ankles from the metal bands. The other woman was shackled too, and she knelt beside Violet in an awkward position. Violet’s mind whirled.

  “What’s with the shackles?” Violet pulled at the leather.

  The woman shrugged. “His rules.”

  Darr. “And where’s Darr?” Violet scanned the room. “He’s not here.”

  “They only brought you. No one else.”

  Violet rounded on the woman. “I was with a man. I need to find him. And a radio.” She patted her pockets. Empty as expected. She thrust her hand into her woolen sock. Damn. Her knife was gone too. They’d found everything. “They took all my weapons.”

  “They have everything. You may as well give up now. No man is going to come looking for you.” The dark-haired woman slumped next to Violet, her eyes glassy. “Those days are long past.” She smoothed the hem of her scarlet evening dress across her thighs and then folded her arms across her body. “He makes us dress like this.” She lifted her chin and straightened her spine. “I was a barrister before.”

  Violet stood up, carefully this time. “I need to find my friend. I’m not planning on staying.” She hobbled over to one of the two doors and rattled the handle. Locked. She ran her fingers around the frame, searching for some kind of weakness. Anything. But there was nothing.

  “He probably traded you for his freedom.”

  “What?” Violet blinked, remembering Darr ignoring her as she was dragged from the room, immune to her pleas. A worm of doubt turned in her belly. Darr owed her nothing. Quite the opposite—she’d gotten him into this mess. Would he walk away from her?

  “Your friend is a man,” the other woman answered. “It’s a different law for men.”

  Violet swept her hair off her face and secured it at her nape. “I can look after myself. I don’t need the help of any man.” She hesitated. “We saw what happened. With your daughter and husband.”

  The woman narrowed her eyes, her body rigid. “You saw?”

  “Yes. Was he your husband?” Violet gestured at the empty room. “And your daughter? Where is she?”

  The woman squeezed her eyes shut, tears welling in the corners as she shook her head. “You should have stayed where you were. That’s what got Marks killed. He tried to help us escape Judge, and they tracked us down like animals and executed him. Then they brought me back here. For him.”

  Violet frowned. “For him?”

  “Women are nothing but commodities here.” The woman’s chin trembled. “I should’ve stayed put. Now Marks is dead, and I’m back at square one. Except it’s worse than square one. Now Judge is angry.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “He hurts people when he’s angry.”

  “And the girl?”

  The woman turned her head in the direction of a second door. “Fiona’s asleep in the next room. I take care of her, but she's not my actual daughter. She’s just a kid, only six.” The woman shivered. “This isn’t a good place.”

  Violet blinked hard, trying to clear her head. She shuffled back to the woman. The windowless room was a prison. Prettier, but still a prison. “If he hurts people, why do the men stay?”

  “What choice do they have? He’s violent and sadistic, but he’s efficient and gets results. He created a world that runs on fear, but it works.” The woman shrugged. “Who’s to say this isn’t the best way to live now? At least it promises a better chance at survival. There’s safety in numbers. Maybe I should have realized that sooner.”

  Violet frowned, weighing up her options. “What’s your name?”

  “Cassy.”

  Violet tapped her chest. “Violet. I can help you escape. With Fiona.”

  Cassy shook her head, her eyes shimmering. “There’s nowhere to go.”

  Violet took her hand and squeezed. “There is. Somewhere safe where no one will hurt you. Seriously.”

  “No. You can say what you like, but those places don’t exist anymore. We’re lucky to survive on the edges. Equality is a luxury of the past.” Her attention skittered sideways. “This is his world. His rules. No one lives here for free. It’s the price of staying alive.”

  What price? Sex?

  Cassy’s gaze was flint-hard as she read the unspoken words in Violet’s expression. “You got anything else to offer? At least here there’s relative protection and food where Chittrix aren’t going to tear your throat out while you sleep.” Her shoulders slumped. “I was foolish to want something different.” She gave a resigned laugh. “You can believe what you want, but this is it.”

  “It’s not.”

  Skepticism distorted Cassy’s face.

  “It’s not,” Violet repeated. “There is something better. In the community where I live, it’s not like this. There’s respect, and we work together. Just like before the Chittrix—”

  A key scraped against metal, and a door swung open. Two
men entered, securing the door behind them. Violet recognized one as Mathew, the blond, bearded man from earlier. His companion was swarthy, and Violet estimated, barely five-foot-six, but he was solid and wide, a battering ram of a man on legs as thick as tree trunks. His eyes glinted in appreciation of Cassy’s evening dress.

  Mathew gestured with his gun. “Judge wants to see you ladies.”

  The stocky man holstered his handgun and strode toward them. He reached down and pulled Violet to her feet, his chewed fingernails pinching the soft flesh of her underarm. He flashed her a broad grin then shoved her toward Mathew with a quick shove to the hips, sending her sprawling onto the floor. Her wrists juddered painfully against the rock, and her teeth snapped loudly in her head.

  “Get your hands off her!” Cassy screamed.

  Mathew jabbed a finger at the stocky man. “Daniel! Easy on the merchandise. Judge won’t be pleased if we damage the goods.” Then he bent and threaded his hand into Violet’s hair, his fingers tightening as he hauled upward. “Fucking trouble, come here will you?”

  Violet staggered up, searing pain stinging her scalp, and stared Mathew straight in the eye. Although he was physically bigger, she wasn’t intimidated. He met her defiant glare with a wink, his blue eyes intense above his disheveled beard.

  Before she could respond to his expression, Cassy was manhandled up and thrown toward Violet. Cassy tripped and hit the floor, then spat blood from a split lip.

  “Get a move on, ladies,” chuckled Daniel. “You got a man to see.”

  14

  Violet waited while Mathew unlocked her shackles, before he moved on to unlock Cassy’s. She bent and massaged her ankles. Even with the protection of her boots and thick socks, they were pink and smarting.

  A thud against the entrance door caused the men to turn, raising their weapons in unison.

  The door shuddered, dust puffing from its hinges before it exploded inwards. In a dark blur, Darr hurtled into Mathew, the two of them crashing to the floor. Mathew’s handgun flew from his grip, cracking against the floor noisily and sliding out of reach.

  Violet dove, missing the weapon but colliding with Daniel. She forced her body to relax, taking him down as she fell heavily. Darr cracked Mathew’s head on the concrete floor until his hands dropped limp to his side.

  Violet rolled off Daniel, scooped her heels over her tied wrists, then brought her hands in front of her body and snatched up the SIG. She raised the gun, aiming for Daniel but he was a step ahead, his weapon already trained on Darr.

  Darr froze, panting.

  Daniel grinned an ugly smile. “Stop right there, lady.” His finger flexed on the trigger unaware of Cassy behind him. She swung a large vase against the side of his head, whooping as it connected with his temple with a satisfying clunk and knocked him unconscious. She staggered backward, before wiping her hands on the legs of her dress as if her skin was contaminated. “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” she huffed.

  Violet lowered her gun, her knees threatening to buckle. “Darr,” she gasped staggering forward. She turned and presented her hands to Darr to cut the ties. “He looks a mess, Cassy, but he’s with me.”

  Darr bent and extracted a blade from his boot like some apocalyptic boy scout.

  “You came for me,” said Violet, smiling despite herself. But it was more than that. Deep down, her joy was that it was him who had come, and only him. Maybe she’d been too fast to judge him. He could easily have left without her, especially since she’d dragged him into this mess in the first place. But here he was, revealing his protective side. For her. Someone he barely knew.

  He flashed her a wry grin and wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I know you can look after yourself.” He gestured at Cassy. “I was worried about her.”

  Violet bit her lip. If they started to fight, the happy warmth in her belly would dissipate. He had put himself at risk to help her out, after all.

  Darr’s knife slipped between Violet's wrists, his breath tickling the sweep of her neck. The scent of masculine sweat filled her nostrils, making her pulse inexplicably race a little harder. He tugged the blade against the plastic more forcefully than necessary, pulling Violet onto her tiptoes for an instant before the blade sliced through plastic.

  Her body tipped against his. “Thank you,” she said, her nose only inches from him.

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  She rubbed her released wrists and spun on her heel, needing to look anywhere but at him. Up close, he muddled her thinking.

  Darr cut Cassy’s restraints. As soon as she was free, she darted to the next room. Violet heard the soft murmur of voices then Cassy appeared again, her arm around the shoulder of a shocked-looking girl. Fiona looked even younger than six under the layer of fear that cloaked her face.

  “We need to—” A high-pitched alarm invaded room, drowning Darr’s voice.

  Violet flinched at the sudden electric wail, but Darr bent and relieved the two guards of their remaining weapons. With a few violent yanks, he then removed their jackets and tossed them at Violet. Violet dropped one on Fiona’s shoulders and offered the other to Cassy. “You need to cover up that dress.”

  Darr pressed a handgun into Cassy’s clenched fingers after she’d rolled up the thick jacket sleeves. “Can you handle a gun?”

  “Yes.” Cassy hugged the weapon close to her chest, her free arm pulling the child tight to her. “We won’t make it.”

  Violet acknowledged the doubt that hung in the air with a curt nod. “You want to stay here?”

  Cassy shook her head, but her face was bloodless, the skin too tight.

  Darr squeezed Violet’s elbow, firing hot tingles up to the base of her neck. Did he feel it too?

  He cleared his throat, glancing away. “The alarm will provide cover. Let’s go.”

  They headed out of the room, Darr taking the lead. Violet followed closely, Cassy and Fiona tight on her heels, their panicked breathing loud in her ears. As they inched down the corridor, a sign caught Violet’s eye. “Darr. They have a radio.” She jerked her head at the sign. Communications Suite.

  Darr shot her a questioning look. “And?”

  Damn, he was being awkward again. “We need a radio,” she retorted in a loud whisper.

  “You need a radio.”

  Cassy indicated with the nose of her gun. “It’s down there, about fifty feet.”

  A muscle flickered in Darr’s jaw. “Violet, we don’t have time for this.”

  She held her hands up in appeasement. “Two minutes.”

  His neck twisted in disapproval, his jaw set. “No. Taking time to try and radio for help is going to get us killed. It’s time to go, Violet. Move. Now.” He grabbed her arm. “Now. I’m done arguing.”

  She shook herself free from his grip. “I don’t need manhandling.” Her tone was sharper than she intended, and his lips parted as if he was about to reply, but instead, he turned away from her, gesturing for Cassy and Fiona to follow.

  Violet stared down the corridor. Part of her bristled at being ordered around, but part of her also recognized he was right. Again. Fuck. She gave the sign one last, wistful glance then followed the others.

  They ran as a small group, arriving breathless at a T-junction where Darr held the women back with a broad palm. Violet ducked as a small team of men belted past in the bisecting corridor, their weapons raised and ready. “Holding cells. Now!” barked the front runner as they passed.

  “Chittrix attack?” Violet asked when the men were gone.

  “Something like that,” Darr muttered. “Pull up your hoods and cover your faces.”

  Darr still leading, they stepped out into the main hall, hurrying in the opposite direction to the running men. Violet kept her head down low. Fiona hunched against Cassy, her thin legs sticking out under the heavy coat. As disguises went, it had limitations.

  “Hey!”

  Violet ignored the sharp, assertive male t
one behind them, but suddenly Cassy was no longer beside her. Violet pivoted. A man with dirty blond hair had hold of Cassy and Fiona in a strong-armed grip. Fiona squealed, her hands flailing uselessly. The man hugged Cassy against his chest, and she dropped her gun in clumsy fear.

  Darr gripped Violet’s arm and yanked her away as the man began to shout for help.

  Violet struggled to extricate herself from Darr’s restraint. “What are you doing? We need to help them.”

  Darr grunted and only pulled harder, wrenching Violet’s shoulder in its socket.

  “Escaped prisoners!” bellowed the man, still grasping Cassy and Fiona in a stranglehold. Cassy struggled, her eyes wide and wild while Fiona merely stood, her mouth lax and open with shock.

  Violet’s boots skidded, finding no purchase on the stone floor. Darr was unstoppable, his grasp on her arms uncompromising. He was taking her with him whether she wanted it or not.

  She screamed as Cassy’s frightened face disappeared from her view. “We’ll be back for you. I promise!”

  15

  Darr dragged Violet in a hold that made his hands ache, but he wasn’t letting go. After his encounter with the Scutter, there was no way in hell he was leaving her here with these animals. But bloody hell, she wasn’t making it easy on him. He was fast concluding that was the norm with Violet. She was courageous and fought her own corner. But right now, he needed to get her out of here.

  They rounded a bend, and he halted as the tunnel split in a triad of directions. Darr hesitated, his ears straining for the sound of pursuers, but for now, there was no one, only the hum of the ancient strip lighting above their heads.

  A laminated map was pinned to the wall in the center. He lugged Violet forward with him and stabbed at the map with one finger, attempting to make sense of the gray web of lines to work out where they were. His vision blurred in time to the thump of his pulse.