A shudder ran through her. “You tortured them?”
He watched her a moment before replying. “We’re in agreement that these are our enemies?”
“Yes. But torture…” Loyalty was one thing; inhumanity was another. Especially when it came to an enemy who was no longer faceless. “Neither of these two is old enough to have had anything to do with the Bio Holocaust,” she reminded him.
Beck leaned closer, and she saw a glint of something she hadn’t seen before—something that reminded her of Paxton’s warning.
“If you’d watched those bug ships burn your parents alive,” he said, “you might feel differently.”
She swallowed. “I might.”
Releasing her from his gaze, he sank against the back of the pew with a sigh. “Let’s hope we’ll find them more cooperative than the others.”
She sat processing what he’d said—and contrasting his surface charm with the dark current she’d just felt. She’d just begun to examine her own complicated feelings about the Manti prince and his sister when Beck spoke again.
“There’s something else I want to say to you.” He angled toward her, and she held her breath. “I think there’s a chance you’ll see your home again, especially now you’ve fallen in with us. Until that happens, I want you to know you’re welcome here.”
She thought about her father back at the Archive. Imagined him shuffling from his terminal to hers. Scrolling distractedly through files. Her hands began to shake.
Beck reached for the hand with the uninjured wrist, holding it between his. His palms felt dry and hot. “I know it’s not what you’re used to, but you’ll be safe here.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “And you can trust me to watch out for you.”
Her fingers tensed. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve a hard life here, and not all of the men have a mate. If you’re with me, they’ll leave you alone.”
She pulled her hand free, eying him with alarm. “What do you want from me?”
Beck crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a wan smile. “Not a thing.” He shook his head, chuckling. “Well, that’s not the honest truth. But I wouldn’t touch you unless you wanted it. I can’t make any promises about the others.”
Ice water trickled down Asha’s spine. Yet her heart beat so fast she felt hot. “What kind of place is this?”
“A place where men are surviving, love, and just barely that. It’s no Sanctuary. We’ve no archive beyond what you see here,” he waved at the boxes of books, “nor time to spend on such things. Surviving means toiling to feed hungry bellies. Staying one step ahead of our enemy. And it means making babies, so they don’t wipe us off the face of the Earth.”
She stared at him, her mind running through a comparison of the two men who had been steering her fate for the last twenty-four hours. One had fought to protect her from an instinct he found abhorrent. This one was telling her the same instinct was a fact of life.
But it occurred to her there might be more behind this than a desire to protect her. An excuse, perhaps, to keep her close. He doesn’t trust me either. And why should he? She’d already lied to him.
Someone rapped on the chapel door, and Beck rose from the pew. “Come,” he called.
Asha stood as the priest stepped into the chapel. She gasped to see Paxton move into the doorway behind him.
“What’s going on?” demanded Beck, hand reaching to his waist for a weapon that wasn’t there.
“The wasp got free,” replied the priest. “The Manti captain says the whole hive could be on top of us soon.”
“Wasp?” asked Asha.
“This is a trick, Carrick!” barked Beck, his face red with anger. “To get you to release them.”
“I didn’t release them,” the man replied darkly.
“No trick,” Paxton asserted, gaze flickering at Asha. “You’ve got trouble coming. Probably soon. No way of knowing how many.”
Beck’s gaze moved between the two men, his taut form still on high alert. He clearly didn’t know what to believe.
“You should start moving your people out of here,” said Paxton. “We’re going.”
“You’re not going anywhere, and neither are we,” replied Beck, stepping toward him. “Why should we believe you?”
“I don’t care what you believe. But don’t make the mistake of thinking you can stop us.” Paxton held out a hand to Asha. “Let’s go.”
Beck moved between Asha and Paxton, and fury burned in his reply. “Go on then, bugman. But she stays with us.”
Suddenly Iris burst into the chapel. “We have to go, Pax.”
Asha moved without planning it, motivated by an aversion to the idea of being forced back into Manti custody. She darted onto the dais, scooping up a gun and leveling it at Paxton.
“No, love!” shouted Beck. The command terminated in an exasperated grumble.
Paxton was already in motion—she had to make a split-second decision. She dropped the barrel slightly, aiming for his lower body without pausing to think about why she didn’t want to kill him.
His hand closed over the barrel and she squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Paxton yanked the weapon free and spun around in time to jam it against Beck’s chest.
“Step back,” ordered Paxton, and the leader moved off the dais. “Asha,” Paxton continued, “if you don’t want me to shoot him, hand me the other gun.”
Asha hesitated, confused.
“Those guns don’t work for us,” explained Carrick. “Better do as he says.”
Damn. Now what?
“Asha.” Paxton thrust out his hand. She snatched the other weapon off the bed and handed it to him. He tossed it to Iris.
“Now come on.” He reached for her, but she dodged again.
“Wait!” she cried. “What’s going to happen to these people once we’re gone?”
“They’ll move on if they want to live.”
He lunged for her and caught her by the wrist. As he dragged her off the dais she shot a panicked glance at Carrick. “How many of you are there?”
“About eighty.”
“Stop.” She yanked her arm, wincing at the pull in her shoulder. “You have two ships now,” she pleaded with Paxton. “You could move them somewhere safe. You could take them back to Sanctuary.”
“We’ll not go anywhere with them,” growled Beck.
“Don’t be a fool,” snapped Asha. She looked at Paxton. “I’ll do whatever you want. Don’t leave them here to die.”
There was something wild in Paxton’s look. Her heart thumped in warning. He is half wild. He told you himself. Don’t trust him.
“This is madness, Pax,” Iris hissed at her brother. “Let’s go!”
“Please,” urged Asha.
He towed her toward the door.
“No!” she cried, prying at his fingers.
“When we have our ships we’ll come back,” Paxton told the priest. “Anyone who wants to leave needs to be ready. You can come with us, but we won’t take you to Sanctuary.”
Outside the chapel the cloud cover had lowered, hanging heavy over the dark surface of the lake. But the rain continued no heavier than an intermittent sprinkle.
“It’s too late,” muttered Iris.
Asha followed her gaze to a smoke-like smudge low in the sky above the trees on the opposite side of the lake.
“What’s coming?” she asked.
The door to the chapel swung open, and Beck and Carrick came out. Beck directed his glower toward the horizon.
“Some kind of transgenic wasp,” said Paxton. “Aggressive.”
“So we fight?” asked the priest.
“We fight,” agreed Iris.
“We need to seal off the entrances to the abbey,” said Paxton, glancing at Beck. “Do you have the other crew’s weapons?”
“In the chapel,” replied the leader. He glanced at Carrick. “Get back to the abbey and warn the others. Keep them all inside.”
>
Beck ran back into the building, and Iris said, “I’ll go with the priest.”
Paxton shot her a questioning look, but he handed her his gun. “Go up to the roof. Pick as many of them off as you can. We’ll be there soon.”
Iris nodded, and she followed Carrick down the path toward the abbey.
Paxton’s gaze locked on Asha. “Stay close to me. If we get separated, I want you to run. Hide in the woods until it’s over. Understand?”
She stared at him, surprised by his concern for her safety—especially considering their last interaction had included her trying to shoot him.
“Okay,” she agreed.
Beck burst out of the chapel with the other guns. He tossed one to Pax, and they started down the path after the others. Beck took the lead and Asha followed, Paxton bringing up the rear.
“Do you have other weapons in the abbey?” Paxton called to Beck.
“Knives and spears. Axes. We have a crate of rifles, but no ammo. Not for years.”
Pax made no answer, which was answer enough. They were in trouble.
The enemy was close now. The air vibrated with angry humming. Asha picked up her pace to keep close to Beck, and she could hear Paxton’s boots scraping the broken pavement behind her.
She fought to steady her mind against terror, knowing this new threat could open an opportunity at any moment. Paxton himself had pointed out that it might be possible to slip away in the confusion of the attack.
But as she ran, panting hard as sweat trickled down her neck, she knew it was time to reassess. Threats surrounded her. She’d woken up to a world that required alliances for survival. Paxton, enemy or no, seemed determined to keep her whole and alive. And he was the only one who could take her home.
A buzzing cry ripped through the air just above her, and something grazed the top of her head. She yelped and Pax fired a shot. Glancing up, she saw a dark insect the size of a man dropping toward her—gleaming black torso like armor and eyes like gold pearls, oblong and soulless. Huge mandibles clicked with menace as a pair of too-human arms extended from the wasp’s midsection, grasping her shoulders and dragging her off her feet.
She smacked against the pavement but managed to get her hands and knees under her and roll away from her attacker.
Two more shots rang out, and she scooted away as the wasp slammed onto the path beside her. The buzzing pitched higher and louder as the creature struggled to right itself.
“Go!” Paxton shouted, firing once more.
She ran for the abbey without looking back, but she could hear Paxton’s footfalls—and the shots he fired at regular intervals.
Dozens of wasps descended on the abbey, alighting on the crenellated towers and flying at windows. Iris and Carrick perched atop a front tower, both weapons sounding as they defended the rooftop and arched entryway. Asha joined Beck and Paxton in scrambling up the hillside toward the abbey, and saved the question for later.
At one end of the stone wall between the abbey and the lake, they crouched together in a stand of low trees. Peering around the wall they could see wasp carcasses scattered around the building’s entrance—Iris picked them off from the tower as they rushed the arched wooden doors, while Carrick protected her from attack from above.
Asha could see this plan wouldn’t hold for long. One of the wasps made it past Carrick’s bullets, landing on the tower next to Iris. Paxton aimed and fired, knocking it from the wall, and the priest shot another that landed behind it.
“How’s he firing that gun?” demanded Beck.
Paxton took the other gun from Beck, holding it still until Asha saw a green light pulse against his wrist. There was a dark mark there she hadn’t noticed before—a spiral pattern made up of lines and dots. Paxton flicked his thumb against the underside of the grip and handed the weapon to Beck.
“Safety’s off. Don’t put it down—I’ll have to override it again.”
“Don’t intend to,” grunted Beck, turning to fire into the swarm above the abbey.
An uneasy alliance, but for the moment a necessary one.
Asha heard a crash and a shrill scream, and she scanned the front of the building. At the far end a wasp forced its way through the frame of a broken ground-floor window. In seconds the wasps on the ground had regrouped around the alternate entrance, where Iris’s and Carrick’s fire couldn’t reach.
“They’re getting in!” she cried.
“Come on,” said Beck, jumping up.
Keeping close to the wall, they ran to the opposite end. Beck and Paxton pushed their way through a clump of shrubs and began firing into the swarm.
“How long will these work?” asked Beck, continuing to aim and fire.
“They’re micro-projectile,” said Paxton. “About fifty shots each.” He paused, surveying the building and grounds. “We’ll kill half of them if we’re lucky.”
“What then?” asked Asha.
“Hand-to-hand,” muttered Beck. The barrel of the pistol kicked up as he fired again.
Asha swallowed, and her gut knotted at the thought of fighting their way through the seething mass. She’d gotten as close to one of those things as she ever wanted to get.
We need a better plan. She thought about the ambush on the bog.
“What about Banshee?” she asked, remembering the warning shot the ship had fired.
Another scream erupted from the abbey, and Iris shouted her brother’s name.
“We have to help them,” said Beck, backing out of the bushes.
“No time to go for the ship,” said Paxton.
He reached out and snatched a knife from Beck’s side before the other man could even flinch. He fixed his eyes on Asha, placing the knife hilt in her hand and closing her fingers over it. “Remember what I said. Stay hidden.”
For a moment it paralyzed her—this second, disconcerting piece of evidence that he wanted to save her. But she shook her head. “I’m not going to hide in the woods and watch them kill everyone. I’ll go for Banshee.”
Paxton glanced at the abbey, impatient to be gone. “She won’t wake for you.”
“What if I tell her you gave the order?”
“She’s powered down. She needs my biosignature to wake.”
She grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at her. “Is it possible she didn’t power down?”
She watched his face change as what she’d said sank in. They’d both witnessed Banshee acting on her own interpretation of Paxton’s orders. “Yes,” he agreed, his expression grim.
“Tell me what to do,” she said.
Stepping closer, he gave her a hard look. “Put your hands on the hull so she can read you. Make a lot of noise.”
“Okay.”
She started to go, but he caught her elbow. “Stay in the trees as long as you can. If you’re attacked … aim for the legs.”
She squeezed the hilt of the knife, shivering.
“Run all the way,” he said. “Don’t look back.”
She nodded, and she took off along the wall, back the way they’d come.
* * *
Asha jogged along the path toward the car park, and the road beyond. Every pebble she ground beneath the sole of a thin slipper sent a jolt of pain up her leg. Her lungs burned, raw from the cold, damp air pumping in and out of her.
She was frightened for the people back in the abbey, but she was also relieved to be putting distance between herself and those creatures. She knew some of the DNA experiments before the war had led to advanced mutations—there were videos in the Archive. But she’d seen nothing like this. Alive and fully functioning. And this was no ordinary wasp. Much of the recombinant DNA work had been done for the military, and species were often selected based on traits like size, strength, and aggressiveness.
The fact these creatures existed did not surprise her, but the fact Paxton considered them enemies did. Every moment she spent outside her sheltered world pointed to some new error or deficit in her education. Paxton—and even Iris, with her mo
re obvious genetic differences—was essentially human. More human than not human. How was it possible to draw a hard line between friend and foe?
The Manti had practically wiped out humanity. Yet the Manti themselves were a result of humanity’s quest for more effective methods of wiping out each other. As was the type of highly targeted plague that had delivered the Manti victory.
Asha stopped at the car park to catch her breath. She was about to leave the cover of trees for asphalt and open ground.
Paxton was right; she’d lose her nerve if she hesitated. She sucked in a lungful of air and set off again, trying not to hear the shouts of the people trapped in the abbey. By now Paxton was probably among them. She might very well return only to find them all dead.
* * *
“Not likely to see her again, are we?” Beck muttered as they circled around to the back windows of the abbey.
Pax wasn’t sure whether the leader referred to the likelihood of Asha being killed by the wasps, or the possibility that she’d run and not look back. It had entered Pax’s mind that if she managed to wake Banshee she might try to persuade the ship to return her to Sanctuary. It shouldn’t be possible. It also shouldn’t be possible that he and his sister were fighting other transgenics, with humans for their allies. Or that his strange fixation on one of those humans was interfering with his ability to think.
Forget her. It was the one thing he was sure of: he had to get her out of his head. Even hoping she really would make it back with the ship was more of a distraction than he could afford right now.
The back rooms of the abbey pressed right up against the steep hillside. Beck kicked in a window and climbed through, and Pax followed.
Inside he smelled apples and smoke. Barrels of fruit and potatoes lined the walls. Half a dozen small children stood near the door, clutching each other in terror. The smoke was coming through the crack under the storeroom door.
“Outside!” Beck ordered the children, pointing at the window. “Hide in the trees on the hillside.”
They stared at him, wide-eyed and unresponsive.
“Go on!” he barked, and they untangled themselves like spiders and scrambled toward the window.
The Ophelia Prophecy Page 7