by Aguirre, Ann
It went without saying that everything hinged on Tam’s finding the right words. He revealed none of that pressure in his calm mien. “Thank you,” he said. “This enterprise could be of great mutual benefit.”
* * *
DRED awoke to incredible agony, unsure how long she’d been out. Her shoulder burned; her side throbbed; and the pain in her gut defied description. Worsening the situation, someone had stripped her naked and was kneeling over her on the bunk. She couldn’t imagine Tam or Einar permitting one of Lecass’s cronies to rape her corpse—plus she wasn’t quite dead yet—so something terrible must’ve gone down after the challenge.
A riot, maybe?
She forced open her eyes and was astonished to see Jael crouched over her, a knife in hand. I didn’t see that coming. Since he hadn’t been around during Artan’s regime, she hadn’t expected him to side with Lecass. But the bastard paid him to see it done, even if he lost.
“I can’t fight you,” she croaked. “So I hope you’ll be quick.”
Instead of answering, he slashed his arm open; his blood trickled into the wound on her stomach. She couldn’t see when he moved to the side, but she felt the hot liquid dripping onto her shoulder as well, then he repeated the process on her ribs. By the time he finished, he had slashes all over his arms.
The room was haloed in a corona of light. Everything seemed really far away, too. “I’m not sure where you went to medical school, but transfusions don’t work like that.”
He sat down on the bed beside her, studying her face. “That’s not what I was doing.”
“Enlighten me.”
“You’ve seen me heal, right?” It was clearly a rhetorical question, but Dred nodded because he seemed to be measuring her ability to focus. “Well, the ability’s conveyed in my blood, at least in a limited sense.”
“So you’re jump-starting my system. How long does it work?” It was a wonder somebody hadn’t locked him up to use as a medical miracle.
“Once it’s outside my system, I have no idea how long it retains its properties. But look, the shallow slice on your ribs is already starting to heal.”
With trembling fingertips, she explored the bloody patch of skin and realized he was right. “You’ll be in trouble in here if anyone else finds out.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “I would’ve been out there, too.”
“You said they ran experiments on you. They didn’t discover this?” If they had, there was no way they’d have stashed him here. Dred suspected he’d have been dissected and used to manufacture salves and ointments for fast healing.
“No. They were more interested in learning how much I could heal and trying to figure out how to reproduce me. I don’t think it ever occurred to anyone to see if my abilities were transferable. And they’re not,” he added, as if worried she would consider eating him to absorb his talents. “At least not permanently. After a few minutes outside my system, the blood goes inert. I know it’s foul, but I’ll have to do this repeatedly through the night to keep you alive.”
“Can you survive that much cutting?” she asked.
He laughed. “I’ve nearly been exsanguinated, love. If I lose too much, I slip into a coma until my cell counts get back to normal.”
“Good to know. Then if you can live with the loss, I can deal with the blood.”
“I can’t have anyone else in here. As you pointed out, if anyone else knew—”
“Tam and Einar won’t intrude if I ask them not to. You might wish to call them in to deliver water and paste, then post them outside to guard the door.” Her head was getting foggy again, the moments of clarity hard-won.
The red haze of pain swallowed her up again.
Next time she roused, Jael looked considerably more haggard. His clothing was stained permanently red, and his skin had a deathly pallor. He sat on the floor beside the bed, his breath coming in shallow rasps. Alarm boiled through her.
“How much blood have you given me?” she demanded.
He couldn’t even summon his usual charming smile. “Damn near all of it, I think.”
Nobody had ever fought so hard for her life. “Why are you doing this?”
“I owe you,” he said, his voice slurred. “Remember, I was poisoned. Dying, I think, and you didn’t give up on me. If I can square things between us, I’ll feel better about it.”
Ah. So it wasn’t personal. That made it better and worse, simultaneously.
“How am I doing?”
“It’s been two days. The men think you’re in a healing trance though some say you’ve crawled off to die. Tam and Einar are keeping things calm while Ike and Wills continue with preparations for the raid on Abaddon.”
“That doesn’t answer the question.” She checked out her ribs. Healed. Her shoulder gave her a twinge, but it felt better, more like weeks of rest and recovery rather than days.
Her stomach? That still hurt with a raw, deep pulse that cradled fire in its depths. From her sweaty hair and hot skin, she guessed she was feverish. “An infection set in?”
“Your body’s not like mine. Without my blood, you’d already be dead.” From his flat tone, she guessed it had been a hard fight.
“Don’t die over me. You don’t owe me that much.” She took a breath and was surprised at how much it hurt. Her whole abdomen felt swollen. Likely, she needed surgery to repair some internal damage, but that wasn’t an option here. “Better you should work with Tam and Einar to run this place.”
To her annoyance, he ignored most of what she said. “They’ve been in to check on you . . . but not during the procedure. They were most impressed with the way I’ve healed your other wounds. I don’t see why I can’t finish the job.”
“Because you’ve practically bled yourself dry, and I’m still laid out?”
“You’re not dying. I forbid it.” Her own words came back at her.
“The universe orders itself to your liking, does it?” Dred raised a brow because that was all she could manage in the way of gentle scorn.
“Not often,” he muttered.
“Is there water?”
“I’ve been spooning it into you, so yes. Let me get the cup.” More tenderly than she would’ve guessed possible, he lifted her head and she managed three swallows.
That cool liquid felt good in her throat, but her stomach burned. She had no way to be sure whether her renal system was still functioning. The way she felt, probably not, which meant waste was backing up in her blood, and she didn’t have too much longer. As deaths went, it should be peaceful.
“I feel like I owe you something for this,” she said.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You put yourself out there, showing me you could do this. The easy course would’ve been to let me die. I don’t know what I can do for you, but—”
“You already did it,” Jael cut in.
“What?” she asked dizzily.
His reply was so soft, she might’ve imagined it. “You treat me like a person.”
Jael . . . Pain had lowered her defenses, so the words arrowed right to her core. Somehow, she resisted the urge to reach for him as the world lost focus.
“If I don’t wake again, thank you. And please don’t fetch Tam and Einar. I’d rather they don’t remember me like this.”
He roared something at her, but the sound went out. Thereafter, everything was black and red, a rolling storm of impressions. Jael’s face appeared again and again; and each time, he looked worse. She tried to tell him to stop—that it was pointless—but she couldn’t speak. Heat blazed through her body in a killing wave until everything was pain, endless spasms of it. She would’ve vomited if she could have, but there was nothing in her torn stomach.
Two armies warred within her body, and Dred fell into a nightmare pit populated by regrets and memories. She shouted at people long dead and threatened others. The pain didn’t diminish, and through it all, she heard him whispering to her. No making out the words but the intent was unmis
takable. She wasn’t allowed to die.
At last, she surfaced again. This time, her skin was cool and the bed was clean. I’m completely naked, weak as a kitten, but there’s no pain. That was . . . surprising. Jael was unconscious beside her; she had no way to tell if he’d passed out in exhaustion or if he’d given her so much blood that he was now comatose. It didn’t seem right to poke him awake to ask, if that was even possible.
Gently, she probed her stomach and found a fresh, ridged scar. “Dear Mary.”
At that, Jael raised his head groggily. “You’re awake.”
“So are you, I see. Somewhat.”
“How long’s it been?” At this point, Dred had no sense of time.
“Four days, total.”
“You look like hell.” It was true. His face was beyond pale and into gray, his mouth white and bloodless. Deep purple circles shadowed his blue eyes, and his blond hair was dull, heavy with grease. The lines that slashed his arms filled her with guilt, a feeling she’d have said she was immune to.
Before her incarceration, she’d stalked so many murderers, hunted them like animals, and she hadn’t cared if they had families who didn’t know about their hidden proclivities. All that mattered was stopping them, so they couldn’t hurt anyone else. That single-minded pursuit of prey had made her too much like her targets. So this resurgence of emotion surprised her.
It’s the injuries. I’ll be back to normal soon. I just have to ignore it and ride this out.
“I could use a bath,” he admitted. “Do you mind?”
“Go ahead. And then you can help me. I can’t stand myself another minute.”
While he showered, she pulled herself upright. The room spun for a few seconds, but the head rush didn’t end in another bout of unconsciousness. It was impossible that he’d healed her in four days. Doubtless the process had been torture for both of them—for different reasons—but she was grateful. It didn’t sit well because the Dread Queen needed to be in a position of power . . . but Dred, the woman, didn’t.
Maybe it’s time I had somebody around who sees me otherwise.
That could be a dangerous game, but after the past days, she trusted Jael completely. If he wanted her dead, she would be. He’d suffered untold anguish to preserve her life, and the weight bothered her. She didn’t like the sensation of being in his debt. Whatever he’d said about treating him like a person, that wasn’t enough to balance the scales.
He was quick and efficient, returning wrapped in a length of cloth cut from some old mining uniforms. It draped around his hips as he moved. She noticed how thin he’d become just in a few days, though his build had never been overly muscular, which made his strength surprising. Dred hoped to Mary he never issued a challenge.
“I don’t have any clean clothes in here,” he said with a shrug. “And I’m not putting those back on. I think I might have them burned.”
“My turn,” she said.
There was no point in pretending he hadn’t spent the last four days becoming intimately acquainted with her body. Modesty was for people who lived normal, quiet lives. She stumbled toward the lavatory with his hand at her back to help with her balance. By the time she’d made it to the doorway, she was exhausted, but she wouldn’t admit it.
The men need to see me, if only a glimpse, for my victory to be complete.
She stepped into the tiny cubicle and Jael reached around her to turn on the water. The tepid trickle didn’t feel as good as she wished, but it was better than nothing. With his help, she washed up quickly, conscious of the water she used. If the other territories were reckless with their use of it, the tanks might be dry for a while before it all passed through the recyclers and filters, then filled back up for use. The idea of a water shortage scared her as much as anything in this hellhole.
Dred rinsed quickly, then said, “You can step out. I’m pretty sure I can dress and dry off without hitting my head and dying.”
“Forget it. I didn’t spend all this time bringing you back from the dead for nothing.”
“Fine.” She accepted his help, bristling, but by the time he handed the shirt to her, she admitted she needed the aid. “Ask Tam for some pants, then let’s go make a victory lap.”
“You got it.”
Outside, Einar stirred from a chair he’d hauled to the door. The big man’s expression brightened, then he swept her into a bone-crushing hug. “I can’t believe it. The last time I saw you, I was sure—”
“Just call me a miracle worker,” Jael said dryly. “Put her down now, lug. She’s breakable.”
“I am not.” Dred glared at them both and stalked toward the hall. When she reached her destination, the men rose as one and cheered in thunderous tones. They shouted for her as she marched around the hall, arms raised to demonstrate her strength.
She prayed nobody ever guessed how much each step cost her.
26
Zero Hour
Three days later, Queensland was as ready as it would ever be to march on Abaddon.
Jael still wasn’t sure it was wise to put all their faith in Silence. Treachery from Death’s Handmaiden would cost the territory everything. But Dred’s crew had voted in favor of the strike, so they moved forward, laid in all possible preparations. Thanks to a couple of return trips down the lift and back again, they had a turret set up at two checkpoints and plenty of ammo. Wills had the maintenance bot running perimeter checks now, not looking for walls in need of repair but intruders. And Einar had crafted some really bad-ass armor out of the Peacemaker unit.
Jael had fifty men under his command. He had been concerned about the bottleneck leading into Abaddon, which was why they’d agreed to split their forces. He was leading one group, Einar another, Martine the third, and Dred the last. Wills and Ike remained behind to look after Queensland while Tam would be gathering intel quietly on his own, which was what he did best. It had been so many turns since Jael had fought in an actual battle—and he’d never led troops before. He was astonished she’d trusted him with the responsibility, yet life as a merc had prepared him for combat more than armed robbery, rape, or mass murder, the credentials other fish had to offer.
So maybe it’s not that they trust you—only that they don’t have anyone better.
That probability made him laugh softly as Dred strode into the hall. All eyes turned to her, and the men parted and fell quiet. She vaulted on top of one of the tables so they could see her from all corners of the room. That movement said she was strong and fit to lead, but only he knew how much it cost her. He read fierce pride and admiration in their collective faces; this woman could command armies in the real world. They would follow her, not for any cause, but through the sheer force of her will.
“This is phase one in the eradication of our enemies,” she called in ringing tones. That received a howl of response, and she let them get it out of their systems before continuing. “By this time tomorrow, the hell Priest calls Abaddon will be a wasteland. If you’re angry, show them your rage. Teach them what it means to be a Queenslander!”
Deafening cheers rang out. Jael couldn’t believe it, but in half a turn, she had managed to unite these men into a nation. These criminals took pride in their homeland, such as it was, and he had no doubt it was because of her. The man she’d killed must have lacked similar magnetism, or there was no way she could’ve supplanted him so impressively. He’d worked for petty dictators who would’ve killed for her charisma.
Of course, they killed all the time, so that’s not saying much.
“When you report to your commanders, remember that when you fight for them, you’re fighting for me.” Her gaze went somber, and she spun in a full circle as if making eye contact with everyone in the room. Jael noticed Martine propped against the far wall. Her men stood ready nearby, listening to the Dread Queen.
“Some of you won’t return,” Dred said then.
Damn. And she was doing so well, too.
But he had underestimated her. The room quieted aga
in, and he glimpsed Tam pushing forward as if to rein Dred in. She ignored him and went on. “Once this is over, I’ll have Wills carve your names on the wall. Your sacrifice will not be forgotten, nor will your bravery be in vain. The Conglomerate locked you away. They said you were too wicked to walk free. I say you’re warriors, and I believe all of you possess the potential to be heroes.”
“Damn right,” Einar roared, and the crowd echoed it back.
She’s got them back, right in the palms of her pretty hands. They’d die for her.
So would I, he realized a few seconds later, as she unwrapped her chains from her in an unmistakable sign she was ready to go to war. Dred swooped them over her head in a deadly arc, then slammed them down on the table. The echo reverberated around the room before she lifted her chains and twirled them; it seemed she would strangle herself or get tangled up in them, but her arms never slowed their graceful motion.
“What’re you gonna do?” she called.
“Kill!”
“I can’t hear you.” She lashed again.
“Kill!” With his amplified hearing, the roar nearly blew out Jael’s eardrums.
Fortunately, she took that as a sign that the men were sufficiently jacked up, and shouted, “Report to your commanders and don’t let me see your faces until the enemy is dead.”
Come home with your shield or on it. He couldn’t recall where he’d heard that, but it echoed in his head as his men formed up around him. Though that wasn’t strictly accurate, as several women were assigned to his company, including Calypso. He knew firsthand, however, how ferocious women could be—and if she’d been shipped to Perdition, then she could fight.
“We have the east corridor. Move out.” He didn’t wait to see if they followed him.
A few seconds later, footsteps assured him they had.
Dred would be approaching from the west and Einar from the south. Martine would be mopping up stragglers. He had no idea what back approach Silence intended to employ, but maybe her people knew hidden ways in the ducts, like Tam, or she could be coming up from underneath, through the Warren. Though Katur and his aliens wouldn’t like it if they knew, Jael suspected that the silent killers could pass undetected.