Hell to Pay: Book Two of the Harvesters Series

by Luke R. Mitchell

  He looked down, his eyes far away. “I only spoke with her one more time after that, when she called from a public console to tell me to find you and make sure you were safe. No cops. No questions. She was gone before I could ask them anyway.”

  Rachel felt like someone had wrapped her in a heavy wet blanket. She stared dumbly at John, mouth agape and heart thudding in some distant corner of her awareness as she tried to process anything through the dull buzz that dominated her mind.

  “Why?” she finally whispered.

  Why what? Why everything. With each passing second, another thousand of the infernal questions crawled into her mind. She grabbed one by the scruff and threw it out.

  “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Before …”

  Before what? Before she’d come to accept her family was gone and found some modicum of peace in protecting the people of Unity? Before Michael had run off to join the Resistance? Had she known what John had just told her, she probably would have gone with him.

  Christ, had that been the reason Michael had gone in the first place? Had he known about all of this?

  “It was a hard decision,” John said. “One of the hardest I’ve ever had to make. But I didn’t have any real answers. Just more questions. I couldn’t see what good it would do you, especially when you were already fighting so hard to move past what had happened. It wasn’t until the raknoth came walking out of the ashes of the Catastrophe that I even started to piece together what she might have been trying to tell me. And even then, it was only conjecture. I was only trying to do what I thought was best for you.” He reached for her hand across the table. “I’m sorry, Goldfish.”

  The entire time he’d been speaking, what little space in her mind hadn’t been rendered utterly numb with shock had been waiting for the inevitable explosion of indignant outrage. It didn’t come. Not until John’s hand settled over hers.

  She yanked her hands back. They curled into fists of their own accord and slammed to the table, and with the impact came the flood of anger she’d been waiting for.

  “You should have told me.” She growled the words like a curse.

  John pulled his hands back and held them up in surrender. “I’m sorry. I made a decision, and—”

  She smacked the table again and was on her feet before she’d even thought about it. “And you were just trying to protect me? Bullshit! That wasn’t your decision to make. I could have …”

  She flexed her fists, uncertain as to exactly what she could have done and suddenly acutely aware of the way the others in the room were watching her, like she was a bomb ready to explode. All of them except Jarek, whose uncommonly stern gaze remained on John.

  She’d nearly forgotten they were all there, absorbed as she’d been in her own thoughts. Now, though, she needed to get out of here. She needed a quiet place to think.

  She turned for the door and went to find one, not bothering to stop when Lea called her name, or when John did the same.

  She stomped up the stairs and through the halls toward her bedroom, lamenting the fact that she didn’t have a raknoth to blow through the walls right now.

  She’d nearly blown a gasket a few days ago when she’d realized Michael had lied to her about something that was only tangentially her business. John was pretty much the only other person in the world she’d thought she could trust. For him to drop this bomb on her …

  It was too much, and she either needed to hit something or curl up in a ball and not come out for a few days.

  When was the last time she’d even properly slept? Too long ago. That was for sure. But peaceful sleep seemed like the last thing she was about to find right now.

  John’s words played through her head on repeat, adding a new layer of hurt with each pass.

  Maybe he had been wise—merciful, even—to keep these cryptic details to himself all these years …

  No. Shit on that. He should have told her. Her mom, her burden to bear. And she needed to know—now more than ever.

  She needed to find Haldin and Alton. They seemed to have far more answers than what John could give her anyway. Answers she couldn’t turn away from now that old wounds had been reopened. Answers she’d probably always needed deep down. And maybe she could help Michael too while she was at it.

  It was raknoth tech that had caused Michael’s condition, and those two seemed to know more about the raknoth than anyone else she’d met. If anyone could explain what had happened to Michael, it might be them. The Red King sure as hell wasn’t about to give them anything. Anything more than ominous scraps, at least. Haldin and Alton might even be able to tell them something about the nest and this business with the rakul.

  The familiar comfort of her room turned out to be not so comforting. Certainly not like home should feel.

  Had it really only been a week ago that she’d set out to find her missing brother? It felt like years. Too much had happened in that short time, and now … She wasn’t quite sure what now.

  But that could probably wait until she’d had a desperately needed shower and some decent sleep.

  After that, she’d find out what happened to her mom all those years ago. She’d find out how to help Michael. She’d fix it all, and then she’d tell them and the rest of the world to shove it and go stick her head back in the sand where it was quiet and boring and the people she loved didn’t keep things from her.

  She just needed to talk to Haldin and Alton first.

  And lucky for her, she knew exactly where to find them.

  Eleven

  Jarek raised a hand to knock on the door he was reasonably sure was Rachel’s. The hand froze, suspended a few inches from the door by some insidious working of his own subconscious.

  Why had he come here, again? It had sounded like a good enough idea in the comfort of his own guest room just a few minutes ago, but now that he was here …

  “Oh, do go on, sir,” Al said in his earpiece.

  He shot a glare at Fela’s empty form, which was parading obediently along behind him to the tune of Al’s command, and bit back a retort for fear of announcing his presence.

  Mr. Robot could say what he would. He wasn’t the one who had to deal with all this … whatever it was. When the freaking blood-sucking aliens told you trouble was on the way, what were you supposed to do with that?

  Get out of the way, maybe.

  That was the easy answer. This was all getting too complicated too fast. It had only been a few days ago that the Resistance had been fully intending to take Fela from him, and now he was out here running errands for them?

  No. Not for them. He was here for himself. Looking out for numero uno. If the sky was about to fall, he needed to know about it. It was a matter of survival. And given the way Alton the raknoth had reacted to mention of the rakul, it looked like Jarek may have been wise to stick around.

  Of course, none of that really explained why he was standing outside Rachel’s door like a damned nervous teenager right now.

  A muffled creak from the other side of the door jolted him like an electric shock to the chest. Someone was coming. The doorknob turned with a rattle and a click, and the door swept inward before his startled brain could decide to bolt or put on his patented carefree grin.

  He settled for jamming his hands in his pockets.

  Rachel eyed him through the cracked door. “What do you want?”

  “I …”

  What did he want? World peace? Unlimited bacon?

  Her?

  Because that’s why he was standing here, wasn’t it?

  He swallowed. “… wanted to check on you.”

  Flames might as well have blazed to life in her eyes. “If you think I need someone to come and—”

  “Not because I think you need it,” he said, holding his hands up in peace. “I just … Shit, I don’t know. I was worried about you, I guess.” He shook his head and turned to go. “So sorry for the interruption, princess. Won’t happen agai—”

  “Jarek.”


  He paused at the tone of her voice and waited for the heat in his face to drop a few degrees before turning to face her. She dropped his gaze after only a second, and silence stretched between them.

  “You took the suit off,” she finally said.

  “Guy’s gotta shower sometime.”

  “I didn’t know Fela could follow you around,” she said, finally pulling the door fully open.

  She was wearing a comfy-looking pair of shorts and a Swarthmore College t-shirt. He’d never seen her like this. Barefoot. Dressed for comfort rather than kicking asses through walls. He’d been attracted to her since they’d met—doubly so after she’d laid the hurt on a couple rooms’ worth of armed guards and knocked him on his own ass.

  But the more he was around her—and now seeing her in all her irritated, pajamaed glory …

  She was beautiful.

  Jarek tore his gaze from Rachel to look at the exosuit, which his muddled brain pointed out had been standing out of Rachel’s line of sight when she’d made the comment.

  Stupid.

  His own mind was warded from Rachel’s senses, but he’d completely forgotten about Fela.

  “I knew I was being quiet,” he muttered.

  The first traces of a smile tugged at Rachel’s mouth. “I’m a hard girl to sneak up on sometimes. How’d you even lose her in the first place if she can move on her own?”

  “Not on her own, ma’am,” Al said from Fela’s speakers. “And as for the how, I believe it boils down to bad decisions.”

  Jarek grimaced. “A lot of bad decisions.”

  “And copious amounts of alcohol,” Al added.

  “Yeah thanks, Mr. Robot.”

  “And that’s not even to mention the particularly devious redhea—”

  “I think she gets the picture, buddy.”

  Rachel shifted her moody stare back and forth between them. “Yeah, I think I get it all right.”

  Jarek clasped his hands together. “Fantastic. Let’s skip the boring details, then.”

  She arched an eyebrow. “Boring, were they?”

  He lingered with his mouth half open. “Is there a right answer to this question?”

  “Only if you think I care.”

  “Ah. Then yes. Super boring.”

  She rolled her eyes and backed away from the door and into her room.

  Jarek started to follow but lingered at the doorway. “I’m lost. Was that princess-speak for ‘come hither’?”

  She sank to the edge of her bed. “More like stay or leave, but just get out of the damn hallway whatever you do.”

  “Ah.” Jarek glanced back and forth down the empty hallway and gestured to Fela. “After you, buddy.”

  Al dutifully marched Fela into the room and sank the suit quietly into the corner. Jarek followed and shut the door behind them.

  “Well lucky me,” Rachel said.

  She was leaning back, propped up by her arms, with her legs crossed and—

  Jesus, had her legs always looked that good underneath those jeans?

  He forcefully raised his gaze and fixed her with what he hoped passed for a level look. “Do you wanna talk?”

  She plopped back on the bed with a loud huff and waved a helpless hand. “What, because this is our thing now? We fight off the bad guys and then talk about our feelings to cope with the stress?”

  “Hey, I’m perfectly amenable to destressing by more enjoyable means if the lady doth desire.”

  It was out of his mouth before he’d thought twice. Smooth as a fresh ream of goddamn sandpaper.

  She raised her head from the bed just enough to show him an arched brow. “I thought you were into redheads.”

  He turned to look out the window at the fading hint of sunlight in the distance. “That was just a distraction.”

  Her voice was soft behind him. “And this wouldn’t be?”

  He glanced back to find her watching him with an indiscernible expression. The gaze deepened until Jarek broke eye contact and sank into a nearby desk chair to keep his heart from escaping through his throat.

  Rachel sat up to face him. “You’re kind of a walking contradiction, you know that?”

  “Always keep ’em guessing. Tactics 101.”

  “You have me right where you want me, huh?”

  He grinned. “I don’t know if I’d put it that way.”

  “And on and on we go.” She scooted back on the bed to sit cross-legged and lean against the wall. “So what did you wanna talk about?”

  He shrugged. “You know. The Overlord attacking your childhood home. The coming doom. Michael.” He hooked a thumb toward the door. “That itty bitty chestnut of life-altering news that spilled out earlier. We’ve got a few options, I guess.”

  She looked away, a shadow settling over her expression. “And what if I don’t like those options?”

  “Al tells a mean riddle when the mood’s right.”

  A faint smile broke through as she glanced at Fela’s collapsed form. “I bet he does.”

  “Come on, Rache,” he said softly. “It’s been a hell of a week. You don’t have to hold it all in.”

  She considered him. “You don’t really strike me as the listener type.”

  He smiled. “Can’t say I’d know. But given the locale, I suppose I could give it the ol’ college try.”

  She pursed her lips then shrugged. “Fine. I’m pissed.”

  “Ahh, yes. And how does that make you feel? Wait—wrong line.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “Ha ha.”

  “Seriously, though”—he crossed a leg and leaned back—“why are you pissed at John?”

  She tensed. “What, you agree with him lying to ‘protect’ me?”

  “Nope. Just asking to get you to talk. Read it in a book once.”

  She eyed him speculatively. “No you didn’t.”

  He grinned. “I totally didn’t. Let’s try it anyway.”

  “Fine. I’m pissed because he lied to me. And because Michael did too, and now I feel like, I don’t know. Like I’m not sure what the hell to do about any of it.”

  “I think I get what you mean,” he said. He meant it too, as off-centered as he’d been by the events of the past week. “And I know how shitty it can feel to have your faith in someone let down like that, but … Okay, so you’re not sure what to do. What do you want to do?”

  “Find out what happened to my mom,” she said without a second’s hesitation. “And how I can help Michael.” She cocked her head. “And maybe, if there’s still time, we can try to figure out whether the shit’s actually about to hit.”

  “See, I’d say that all sounds pretty reasonable. Responsible, even. That last part especially.”

  He couldn’t blame her for wanting to learn more about her mom. And besides, getting that particular scoop meant talking to Haldin and Alton, which also happened to be their best shot at learning about this rakul retribution, and he was all for that.

  And if it all just so happened to be accomplished as a “we” instead of a “he,” that wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world either, right?

  “Truly, sir?” Al asked quietly in his earpiece. “That’s all you have? Reasonable?”

  Jarek suppressed the urge to tell him to shove a bolt in it and kept his focus on Rachel.

  “I know that,” she said. “I just … I don’t know—feel lost I guess, like at some point I had a side, or some kind of equilibrium at least, and now it’s just gone.”

  “Now you’re really preaching to the choir, lady.”

  She shook her head as if she hadn’t heard him. “When did any of this shit become our responsibility? I just wanted to make sure Michael was okay and now what? He’s in a goddamn coma, Jarek. And now I’m out here chasing alien ships for fucking clues, and there’s the rakul, and now my mom, and I—”

  Her voice caught, and she visibly swallowed and reset herself with a deep breath.

  “I just didn’t expect this. Any of it.” Her gaze snapped back f
rom far away, and she focused on him with a wan smile. “Least of all to be talking it all over with the goddamn Soldier of Charity himself.”

  She could say that again, a thousand times over. The first part, at least. If he’d had his way from the start, the Resistance would have returned Fela to him as gracious payment for his rescuing Michael from the Red Fortress and he would’ve flown off into the sunset, fully armored and worry free.

  But they hadn’t, and he hadn’t. The nest had activated, or exploded, or ejaculated, or whatever the hell it had done, and now they had at least two raknoth forecasting big bad clouds of doom with just enough conviction that he couldn’t quite bring himself to walk away and risk “retribution” falling down on his oblivious head.

  “Goldilocks, if I’ve learned anything in the past fifteen years—and spoiler alert, I totally have—it’s that shit doesn’t go to plan out there. Pretty much ever. And granted, I might bring it on myself at times, but I really feel like the bigger the stick you walk around with, the bigger the problems life will whip out and slap you right in the face with.”

  “Does everything have to be phallic with you?”

  “Everything.”

  She snorted. “So, what, you’re saying I have a big stick?”

  He glanced pointedly at the staff resting against the wall at the foot of her bed. “I mean, it’s no Whacker, but yeah. You might just have the biggest stick I’ve ever seen. And, all things considered, I think you’re handling it pretty damn well.”

  “You sure know how to flatter a girl.”

  A small silence stretched between them.

  “What are you hoping you’ll learn?” he finally asked. “About your mom, I mean.”