Darr

by Theresa Beachman

  “Fucking trouble, you are.” Judge banged the barrel of his gun against Fiona’s head, and she hollered, her small hands rising reflexively to protect herself.

  Violet flinched, but Darr kept a tight grip on her, worried she was going to do something rash.

  Nearby, the attention of the still-restrained Scutter was drawn to Fiona’s screams. Darr reached out to it and tasted the digestive juices flooding its mouth, sluicing between its honed teeth. It fought the chain, stretching the links to their full extent, the metal collar crushing the scales on the underside of its throat.

  Judge nodded at Violet. “She’s mine. I’ll trade.”

  Darr side-stepped in front of Violet, blocking Judge’s view of her. “No.”

  Fiona squawked as Judge hitched his forearm tighter around her throat. Her hands scrabbled uselessly at his meaty fingers.

  “Put the girl down,” Darr commanded, his voice almost lost in the howling echoes of death bouncing from the rock walls. Men were being slaughtered while they stood here and debated who was leaving with who.

  “Don’t tell me what to do, you fucking freak.” Judge gesticulated at the pandemonium. “I know this is you—somehow.” He stabbed the air with his gun. “It’s like they can’t see you.” He gestured at the onslaught of dark Chittrix bodies covering the walls in an ever-thickening blanket of jagged alien silhouettes. The circle of protection Darr was maintaining was becoming increasingly obvious.

  Judge slammed his gun against his own forehead. He peered at Darr, his eyes dark and predatory. “Fuck you,” he snarled and clicked off the safety.

  Fiona screamed, bucking in his grip, her arms and legs flailing.

  Darr seized the pulse rifle from Violet and fired, obliterating a section of chain, freeing the Scutter. It powered forward and up, jagged jaws wide and raw.

  Judge staggered, his face stretched in horror.

  Darr dove forward and wrenched Fiona free as he seared Judge’s image into the Scutter’s consciousness.

  Judge jerked backward, but he was clumsy and sluggish. The Scutter hit him full in the chest, pinning him to the rock floor and contracting its tail around the vulnerable flesh of his neck.

  Darr hit the ground with Fiona locked in his arms, the air exploding from him in a grunt. His teeth snapped, and sharp rock ripped his back as he rolled protectively around her. Winded, he released her and she ran, plunging her tear streaked face into Cassy’s arms.

  Still lying flat on his back, he amplified the Scutter’s attack, constricting its muscular tail around Judge’s neck, compressing bones and cartilage until they flattened and crunched.

  Then his control faltered, and he released the Scutter.

  “Darr?”

  Violet stroked his cheek, grounding him. She ran her thumb across the beard of his jaw. Her body pressed up against him, fragile yet strong, a woman and a soldier.

  He pressed his hand over hers. “I’m okay.”

  She nodded, her eyes bright. She glanced at Judge, his now-limp body. “He’s gone.”

  Darr sagged, his mind clouding. The Chittrix on the walls blended into a seething mass as his vision failed. Sound faded to a din at the end of a tortuous tunnel. The only thing that felt real was Violet’s hand in his. He laced his fingers between hers, knotting them together.

  He grimaced. “We need to hurry. I can’t keep us safe much longer.”

  41

  Violet led.

  The Box was in meltdown, the tenuous society of fear and control disintegrating in the wake of Chittrix obliteration.

  She hooked her arm under Darr’s shoulder, holding him close, and lurched from the arena, Cassy and Fiona close on her heels. Bodies jostled and knocked her as men fled, their faces shiny with sweat and speckled with blood and brains. No one gave them a second glance—everyone was running for their lives.

  Darr was confused and distant, his head bumping against her shoulder, his legs barely working. Violet stopped and readjusted his weight. “Help me, goddamn you,” she yelled.

  “Violet?” Cassy had drawn level.

  “I’m good. Go!”

  Cassy nodded, hoisting Fiona higher in her arms. Fiona peeped out from her position of safety, tracking Violet, her eyes dark with knowledge a child her age should never have. Her plastic doll’s head with the knotted hair bumped against Cassy’s back, spurring Violet on.

  Doggedly, Violet followed, ignoring the bruised muscles of her ribcage and the pain searing her shoulders. “Come on, Darr. Come on.”

  They rounded a corner. An electric buggy was parked against the wall. Cassy tripped up against it, throwing Fiona into the seat.

  Violet’s lips moved silently. Please let it start. Please. Please.

  Cassy turned the ignition knob, and the battery powered up, illuminating the blue dash. Cassy beamed, and she shoved Fiona further over on the seat. She held her arms out for Darr, helping Violet maneuver his lax torso into a sitting position. Violet clipped the seatbelt around his waist and yanked it tight.

  “Darr?” She shook him gently. Was he still protecting them? “Darr, are we still safe?”

  Darr mumbled. “I can’t. Nothing left…”

  Fuck.

  An elongated shadow flitted past the T-junction ahead of them. Chittrix. Violet swung her pulse rifle, aiming the weapon. “Drive,” she said to Cassy, “I’ll cover.” She swiped her forehead with her forearm, blinking moisture from her eyes. “We’re on our own.”

  Cassy nodded, her cheeks pinched and taut. She floored the small vehicle straight down the corridor. “It’s not far,” she hollered.

  Thank fuck.

  Violet sprinted, her legs carrying her forward in a bone-pounding run. One side of her dress was soaked with blood, and loose bandage slapped wetly against her skin. Ignore it.

  The corridor suddenly brightened as the electricity surged then failed, plunging them into darkness.

  Violet stumbled. For a second, she was back in a wardrobe her face pressed into the scratchy carpet to muffle her cries, as her parents were torn apart only inches from her. She tasted the dust in her mouth and felt the wool tufts between her fingers as she wept hot tears of terror.

  She’d been alone. Unarmed. Unprepared. But she’d still expected herself to defend her mother and father against two adult Chittrix—eight-foot-tall perfectly evolved killing machines.

  Her parents wouldn’t have wanted this; they wouldn’t have wanted her to live a life isolated and alone, bound by grief and self-hatred. They would have wanted her to find happiness, to allow someone into her heart. Her jaw clenched. How had it taken so long for her to realize this?

  The buzz of the electric buggy hummed nearby.

  “Cassy?”

  “Here.” Cassy’s voice wavered, thready and unsure. There was a click, and the buggy headlights lit up, carving two thin beams of light into the corridor. Darr was still in the buggy, slouched between Cassy and Fiona. Violet pressed her fingers into the crook of his neck. His pulse was strong, thudding under her fingertips. She stroked her hand through his hair.

  It would never fade. The fighter in her still struggled to accept she’d been unable to protect two of the most important people in her life, but there was room for this man in her heart.

  And right now, Darr needed her protection.

  Violet shouldered her weapon, the soldier in her locking down. She jogged past the buggy, stepping into the glow of the headlights. Her shadow elongated ahead of her, outlining her bare legs.

  She was a soldier. A warrior against the Chittrix, wearing a gray mini-dress. Hell, yeah. Her finger grazed the trigger. She was fucking ready.

  Violet moved off. “Let’s go, Cass,” she shouted, her voice strong. “Don’t run me over.”

  Cassy knew their route, and she guided Violet with no wrong turns to the main entrance. The heavy double doors were ajar, freezing night air scented with sap drifted through the gap welcoming them back.

  Violet scanned the graffitied ramp leading to the surface
. She jogged a few feet, her ears straining, but the only sounds greeting her were the rustle of the trees and the sigh of the wind.

  She returned to the buggy, where Cassy was unbuckling Darr.

  “Let’s do this. Cass.” Violet shouldered Darr once more, stumbling up the broken concrete of the ramp one slow step at a time. Sweat beaded on her brow despite the cold, and her thighs burned.

  At the top, Cassy hollered from the far side of the clearing, shaking a set of keys above her head before ushering Fiona into a jeep.

  Violet lurched in Cassy’s direction. “About time we had a break.”

  Dirt exploded at her feet, the bullet retort thunderous in the night air. Cassy screamed. Violet froze. She unhooked Darr from her body, dropping him to the ground as she took one knee, searching for the source.

  A male voice spoke. “Fucking drop it.”

  Violet flinched. Mathew. She’d know that voice anywhere. Where was he? Her eyes strained to penetrate the darkness. The trees whispered and bent all around her, camouflaging any movement, while she and Darr were sitting ducks in the clearing.

  Mathew shouted again. “I said drop it.”

  To her left? She wasn’t sure. She placed the pulse rifle on the ground and raised her hands. Her nostrils flared, and her muscles creaked.

  “Did you really think you were going to make it?”

  Violet rolled her shoulders back. She swallowed.

  An engine roared, and the jeep accelerated toward her at breakneck speed. It turned on a pinpoint in front of Violet, scouring her bare legs with grit and gravel. The side door flew open.

  “Fucking get in!” Cassy screamed, her hair wild around her head, her eyes huge.

  Bullets punctured the ground as Violet heaved Darr into the seat. She swung up to join him, one hand gripping the door, one foot on the jamb.

  Cassy gunned the engine, and the jeep roared, back wheels spitting stones as it spun crazily nearly flinging Violet into the bushes. She clung on, the metal door edge slicing into her fingers. Then she grabbed the seatbelt, and she was inside, falling onto Darr.

  Cassy floored the jeep, whooping as she accelerated to freedom. She punched the air with a dirty fist. “We showed him!”

  Violet collapsed into the seat, allowing herself the luxury of a return smile. She tugged at her goddamn dress. “Hell. Yes.”

  42

  Darr woke with a start. He bolted upright, wheezing, his hand reaching for his throat as he sucked in air. His pulse thundered in his ears.

  Judge. Scutters. Chittrix. Blood. Violet.

  Everything kaleidoscoped in splintered shards through his mind.

  “You’re safe.” A warm hand enveloped his.

  Violet knelt beside him. She swept the hair from his brow, bending to kiss the scar on his forehead. He gripped her hand, raising it to his thudding chest. His skin was still bare, but a hairy rug warmed and itched his shoulders at the same time.

  His gaze jittered in an erratic arc as he consciously slowed his breathing. Moonlight suffused the sky through a tangle of winter branches. A jeep was parked thirty feet away under the protection of the trees. Near his feet, embers of a fire smoldered, scenting the air with wood smoke.

  Cassy and Fiona huddled around the fire’s glow under a shared coat, their faces pink from the flames. Fiona’s thumb was stuffed in her mouth, her eyes shut tight, her doll’s head pressed to her cheek with grubby fingers. Cassy gave Darr a brisk nod and hugged the sleeping child closer, kissing the top of her head.

  Violet interrupted his thoughts. “Thirsty?”

  Darr nodded and took the canteen from Violet. His mouth was parched, and he drank too quickly, gulping it down, the water splashing from the corners of his mouth and soaking his chest.

  Violet stroked his arm. “Take your time.”

  He coughed. Took a breath. “We made it out.” He dried his mouth with the back of his arm.

  Violet squeezed his hand. “Thanks to you.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t even remember leaving.”

  “Well, it was a joint effort.” Her cheeks rounded in a smile.

  His throat was raw, painful as he swallowed. “Where are we?”

  “About fifty miles from the Command Base. We’re low on fuel. We’ll finish the journey tomorrow after we’ve rebooted in daylight.”

  “You’re certainly dressed for it.”

  She cuffed him gently on the ear. “Cheeky.”

  “I remember the Scutter… and Judge?”

  “Dead.”

  “Mathew?”

  Her brow furrowed. “Don’t know. We last saw him at the entrance of the Box. We only made it out by the skin of our teeth.”

  Darr nodded. Flashes of the night spun through him, slivers he could only glimpse, not process. Connecting with the Chittrix. Calling them to the Box. Making sense of the fragments was perhaps something still to come.

  Her hand traced his cheekbone. “How do you feel?”

  “Like crap. My head hurts, but that’s nothing new.” He touched his temple. “It aches.”

  Violet arched an eyebrow. “Like an under-used muscle?”

  He paused, grasping the possibility that everything was going to be all right. That he could develop and strengthen these new skills. “Perhaps.”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it. You were…amazing.” Her eyes were bright as she cupped his jaw. “You protected us. It was like they couldn’t see us.”

  That he did remember—shielding the women from the Chittrix as he’d done with the Range Rover. “When Judge took you in the Range Rover, I screened you then. And I did it again at the Box.”

  She fingered the worn leather of his watch. The face was smashed and broken.

  He grabbed her hand. “My biggest fear was always that the connection drew the Chittrix to me. Concealing you from the Chittrix…I thought the first time might have been a fluke. But at the Box, I did it again. Kept you safe.” His fingers grazed her palm as he let the words settle between them.

  “That means—”

  “It means I can protect the people close to me instead of putting them at risk.” He cradled the back of her head, luxuriating in the silk of her hair through his fingers. For the first time since the invasion, the possibility of a future glimmered within his reach. A future with Violet.

  “I thought you’d abandoned me, but then you were there. At the Box. Willing to fight—” Her voice wavered, and he squeezed her hand. She continued in a whisper. “You nearly died controlling the Chittrix.”

  “Yeah…well, I knew Garrick would kick my ass if I was responsible for his sister getting hurt.”

  Violet scooted closer and burrowed against him. She felt so right in his arms, fitted perfectly in the crook of his body. He lowered his head, his nose bumping against the top of her head. Tea roses and summer gardens spiraled through his brain once more. He could never have enough of her.

  His lips brushed her curls. “I thought I wanted you to go. I made you leave because of what I’ve become, what I am. I’ve hated myself for such a long time. I felt trapped with no way out.” He tightened his arms around her. “You crashed back into my life and tore down all the walls I built. The meds. The isolation. You saw it all, and you still wanted me.”

  Her voice was hushed. “What’s not to like?”

  A long second ticked between them.

  Violet cleared her throat and pulled in a long breath. “I’m no poster girl for getting on with people. I’ve been alone a long time. It suits me—it’s what I’m good at. I’m crap with relationships…and people in general.”

  “That makes two of us.”

  “I’m scared, Darr.”

  “We can be shit-scared together.” He dipped his head and kissed her, her lips soft and yielding opened to him, intoxicating him. Fire invaded his chest, flooding his body with heat. Her breasts pressed against him as he crushed her in his arms.

  Violet broke the kiss, gasping. She licked her lips, tasting him, then splayed her pa
lm wide across his chest. “Can I touch?”

  “You’re asking for once?”

  She tilted her head and grinned.

  He folded his hand over hers. “You can touch all you want, V.”

  43

  Violet dipped one toe in the River Avon. It was bone-numbingly cold and swirled clean over the freckles marking the top of her foot, but she’d already made her mind up. Her clothes chafed, her scalp itched, and she could still smell Judge on her skin. The thought of spending another minute without getting even a little cleaner made her skin crawl.

  She’d chosen a bend in the river where the current had gouged a deep curve into the bank—deep enough to dive into, but still swathed in dawn shadows. Before she could change her mind, she shucked off her dress, boots and underwear. Goosebumps pebbled her body in an instant. She took one, two, three deep breaths then jumped, leaping as far into the river as she could. For a split second she was free—naked and unshackled. A bubble of joy expanded within her.

  She plummeted feet first into the icy coldness with a splash. The water closed over her head, sealing off the mess of the world above her. Silver air bubbles escaped her mouth as the shock of the freezing water blasted through her body.

  Her feet hit the bottom, sliding against rounded, river-silted pebbles. They separated under the pressure of her weight, allowing her toes to squidge into the soft mud beneath. As she crouched, suspended in the water, her hair fanned out, catching the weak light filtering from dry land where the Chittrix ruled. For a few moments, she was cocooned and safe.

  But bloody freezing. Sod this. What the hell had she been thinking?

  She kicked hard, flexing into the river bed, as she drove herself back to the air and the light.

  She exploded free of the water, gasping, her arms and legs strangely anesthetized from the frigid water. An overhanging branch supported her as she climbed out, water sluicing off her thighs and calves.

  She wiped water from her eyes, then looked around, searching for her less than extensive wardrobe. Stones dug into her soles as she hopped from one foot to another. Where was the damn dress? Her boots?