The General's Daughter (Snow and Ash #1)

by Heather Knight

  He’s all I have.

  “I don’t like it,” he says. “We’re too close to Bluefield Mountain.”

  “Why are we going this way?” Shouldn’t we keep, like, at least a hundred miles away?

  He flicks his gaze to the east. “That way is renegade country.”

  “Oh.” I shiver and peek around, halfway expecting to find sharp teeth and hatchets behind the next bush.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll build another snow shelter tonight. I’ll keep the fire small, and no one will see us.”

  Immediately I picture the other time he built a shelter. The night he used me until I thought I’d cry, and I blush.

  The wind picks up, and I’m glad for the hat he found me. It fits snugly over my ears, so unlike before, they don’t feel like they’re going to freeze off. Hats are good. Keeping your flesh is good.

  Being pregnant is not. Damn. I can’t stop worrying about it. Women died all the time having babies in the old days. Dad has a couple of doctors and a couple more in training. Out here, I’m on my own. I cannot, cannot, have a baby like this. And what about Talon? What if I’m knocked up and he feels like he’s stuck with me? The thought thrills me, but only for a second. I’ve seen that trapped, dead look in my own mirror. I don’t want to see it on him.

  I study him, but he seems completely unconcerned. Other than that one time, I never again caught him worshipping my belly. Still…

  The wind picks up even more, sending my hair flying about. Talon pulls me closer. Since my fall, he hardly ever lets go of me. He’s so careful. I’m being ridiculous about the whole pregnancy thing, really. I’ll bet if I bring it up, he’ll laugh and tell me he’s had the vasectomy.

  Or maybe he’ll pale and say he never thought about that.

  Idiot. Of course he’s thought of it. Condoms don’t exist anymore. He has to have. And then another thought hits me, and I feel the blood drain from my limbs.

  Did he plan this? When he said I owed him two lives, is this what he meant?

  “Oh no,” he mutters, stopping suddenly. Did he read my mind?

  But he’s not looking at me; he’s staring over his shoulder. A moment later I hear what he hears: an engine. My heart chugs to a stop.

  Talon twists around, hastily scanning the area. “Over there, quick!”

  He half drags me toward a low boulder that rests at the edge of a short drop-off. We crouch behind it, but I don’t feel safe. Not at all. I can see our footprints, deep and fresh, and they lead straight to us.

  “Talon,” I choke.

  He pulls my head to his chest and smooths my hair.

  “Listen to me,” he says as the engines, plural, get closer. “They’re probably going to find us. Let me do the talking.”

  Speechless, I nod. It could be my dad’s men, coming to finish us off. General Barry, too.

  Or renegades.

  I’ve never met a cannibal. The thought puts a beehive in my chest.

  Three snowmobiles appear as small black dots, but grow steadily louder and more terrifying. They are following our footsteps.

  “Are they—” My voice hitches. “Are they from Bluefield?”

  “No.”

  I clasp a hand to my mouth. I will him to tell me something good.

  “Renegades,” he says finally, and the hopelessness in his voice sucks the wind out of me. I don’t think I could be any more frightened.

  “Get down,” he urges. “Don’t move. Maybe I can convince them you kept running.”

  Is he nuts? “No!”

  He takes me by the shoulders and gives me a shake. “Shut up and listen to me. Stay down. Stay quiet.”

  He’s using his mean voice on me, but nothing scares me more than the thought of what’s coming. Talon is a kitten compared to the threat of cannibals.

  The snowmobiles pull up twenty feet from us, and three armed men dismount. One of them wears a necklace of teeth. Human teeth.

  “Now, I know you’re out there,” one of them drawls. “No point in hiding.” He’s holding his gun ready as he pans the area. I know the exact moment he pinpoints our position.

  Talon squeezes my hand and takes a breath.

  “Thank God!” I call out. Adrenaline surges through me and sends me to my feet. Did I really just do that? I don my most grateful, charming smile, and I hold up my hand in greeting. “You have no idea how glad I am to see you. We thought you were General Barry’s men.”

  The speaker narrows his eyes. “You did, huh?”

  “We’ve been running from him for days.”

  “What are you talking about?” the guy with the teeth demands.

  “My cousin and I. Get up, Talon.” Talon is pale, and his face is a mask of grief. Slowly, he rises to his feet.

  “He’s still not sure you’re not from Barry’s camp. But they wear uniforms. Gray and white.”

  “General Barry, you say,” the first one says. “He’s where?”

  I shake my head. “I’m not sure, now. They attacked us three days from here. Northwest, I’d say. Talon and I were the only ones who survived our entourage.”

  The original speaker—the leader?—looks at his men and grins. “Entourage. That’s different.”

  Oh my God. I’m so fucking this up. I look down at myself and grimace. “Please forgive my attire. I’m afraid we had to make due after the attack. I’m Ilsa Balenchuk. My father is General Balenchuk.”

  The guys immediately tense. I can see they know who General Balenchuk is, but it’s better if I play dumb.

  “You probably don’t know who he is, being this far east. He founded a colony across that ridge over there. Fifty miles maybe? I’m not sure; I’m kind of lost.” I smile widely. “He’s done a lot, though. Two years ago he built a fifteen-story building, and the whole thing is hydroponic gardens. Enough to feed the whole territory.”

  I can practically hear Talon’s heart sink.

  The one with the tooth necklace spits. “I hate vegetables.”

  His friends chuckle.

  I dimple. “You sound like Dad. He’s a meat-and-potatoes guy. Mostly beef, but he’ll eat chicken too, and even pork once in a while. I cannot get him to eat the fish. The turkey either.”

  A spark of calculation passes between the renegades. “Attacked, you say?”

  I groan. “General Barry thought if he could get me, he’d have my dad by the balls.”

  Talon closes his eyes.

  “No?” the leader asks, obviously humoring me.

  “Well, maybe. He puts Bluefield first, of course. But you know how it is with family. Especially these days.”

  They exchange glances, but I think they’re catching my drift.

  “Listen,” I give him that deep, beseeching him with my big eyes look. “I know you probably have your own plans, but do you think you’d have time to give us a ride? To Bluefield?”

  The guy chokes on his own laugh. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because I’m Daddy’s little girl. Whatever baby wants, baby gets.” I smile as though I think I’m cute, like a bunny. “Seriously though, he needs me. The trophy wife died a while back, and now I’m that tool he uses to make himself look good. I’m like an expensive necktie or a Rolex. Not quite as good as a stealth bomber, but it’s effective. Plus he likes to dangle me in front of potential rivals. Kind of like I’m the princess of France, and if the right guy impresses him, he’ll give me to him. Let him inherit the throne, so to speak.”

  Teeth Guy scratches his beard. “The fuck you say?”

  I grimace like I truly do feel bad. “It’s all bullshit, of course, but it works. Talon is the heir.” I nudge him with my arm and beam fondly. His face is gray.

  “I’ll make a deal with you guys. Dad’s always looking for good men. He can’t do what he does, control the amount of territory he has, without men who are prepared to do what needs to be done.”

  I nod knowingly, and thankfully they nod like yeah, they get that.

  “He’s got nothing we want,” the leader sa
ys.

  I lose my smile. “Really? How was your last meal?”

  He grits his teeth, and I jump in before he can.

  “Look,” I say, taking another step forward. “It’s a good place to be. There’s practically nothing like it left—anywhere. He’s got enough food to feed and sustain thirty thousand people. We’ve got six doctors,” I improvise. “One used to be an oncologist—a cancer doctor. We’ve got a lab, and they’re working on bringing back antibiotics.” I shrug. “If you like where you are now, fine, I’ll just see that he feeds you. But this deal is huge. Take me—take us—home.”

  I shake my head like he’d be an idiot to say no.

  It’s warmed some. If I had to guess, I’d say we’re around twenty-five degrees. That’s practically tropical. You do get used to the cold. I once saw this show about Alaskans, and there was this guy who didn’t put on a coat until it was minus twenty. That’s a little hard to believe. But right now, twenty-five feels toasty.

  The leader guy, Randall, has me ride behind him. Talon gets stuck with Teeth Guy. All three of them have extra fuel strapped to the backs of their machines. Where the heck did they get it? This is real gas. I can smell it.

  Turns out Bluefield Mountain is a lot farther away than we thought. By skirting around Dad’s territory, we ventured too deep into renegade land. Obviously.

  At dark-set we stop for the night. No one says sunset anymore; there is no sun. It’s “light-time,” and it’s “dark-set” or “dark-fall” now. The renegades quickly get a fire started and spread around a bunch of animal skins. All Talon and I have is the bedding he found at that house, and it’s not waterproof.

  “Get some sleep.” Talon folds his arms across his chest. “I’m going to keep watch.”

  “Are you sure?” Just because I talked them into not killing us right away doesn’t mean they can’t have a change of heart.

  “What you two talking about?” Randall slices off a piece of jerky with a long hunting knife.

  “She’s tired,” Talon answers. He ambles over to the fire, and I try to get comfortable under the covers.

  Talon crouches in front of the flames. “You guys got any news?”

  Teeth Guy narrows his eyes. “What kinda news?”

  “Anything, man. Is there any sign of government, have you seen any airplanes, is the sun shining somewhere and I just don’t know it?” Talon gives them a crooked smile.

  “Ain’t no government,” Teeth spits.

  “Ever heard of Tintangel? I keep hearing about it.” Talon is making a show of rolling a snowball back and forth between his hands, but by the set of his shoulders, I can tell he’s deeply interested in the answer.

  Renegade Number Three scratches his beard and lumbers off into the dark. A moment later I hear peeing.

  Randall snorts. “Same old, same old. People always talking about someplace better. Electricity, democracy, tons of food.”

  He bites off a piece of that jerky, and I close my eyes. I really hope that’s an animal.

  Talon nods. “So it’s just some bullshit town. I thought so.”

  Teeth grunts his agreement, and Talon stands and tosses the snowball against a tree. “Bluefield’s definitely not America, but it’s got to be better than most places.”

  “It’s not a town.” The pee-er is back. “Couple rumors have it that it’s some billionaire’s bio-dome. I’ve also heard it’s like Derinkuyu.”

  Teeth Guy shakes his head and tosses the rest of his jerky into the fire.

  “This guy here usta be a college professor.” The mocking note in Randall’s voice tells me he has no respect for the old-world profession.

  “What’s a Derink—thing,” prompts Talon.

  The pee-er professor rubs his head, his expression mild. “It was an underground city built by the ancients. Turkey, I think. They built it several stories into the ground, pure rock. Supposedly it was big enough to support thousands of people in comfort.”

  An underground city. It sounds like an ant colony. I don’t mean to fall asleep, but I’ve been stressed out for hours, worrying about basically every aspect of my so-called life.

  I’m dreaming about cannibals, and right as they’re getting ready to cut off my leg, I jerk awake. Talon is seated near my head, but he’s slumped over. I can’t blame him for falling asleep. What bothers me is the professor. He’s looking at Talon like he’s meat. His eyes flick to me, and the calculation in his expression is unmistakable. A second later he masks it with a smile.

  Even though my breath stutters, I tip the corners of my mouth and close my eyes. Yeah, right, I’m going to sleep after that. I don’t know what that look meant, but it wasn’t anything good for Talon. Either they’re planning their next harvest, or they consider him unnecessary. Who knows? Maybe that includes me.

  I have a hard time controlling my breath. I’m pretty sure my heart is beating so loud the professor can hear it all the way from across the fire. I take in a deep breath, ease out a sigh, and shift my position. Now I can reach Talon.

  I wait, though. I figure the professor is watching everything. I count to three hundred and eighty-four before I hear the man get to his feet. My eyes fly open, and I see him retreat into the dark.

  I smack Talon, and he jerks awake.

  “Quiet,” I hiss.

  He frowns, and his lips form words, but I interrupt him.

  “I caught the professor eyeing you up. It’s like he was measuring how many steaks he’d get.” I shake my head. “The second you get a chance, you get the hell out of here.”

  He squints. “Are you kidding? I’m not leaving you with these men.”

  I open my mouth, but he doesn’t wait. “Your only chance is if I see you home.”

  God help me. “My friend Vaughn, the one who made me go back to Dad’s in the first place?”

  He gives a short nod. He frowns like what does that have to do with anything?

  “Dad shot him in the back of the head not five minutes after we got there.”

  Talon recoils. “Didn’t he understand? You were friends. He helped you.”

  “Oh, he understood. Vaughn knew the truth, where I’d been, what I’d been doing. It didn’t match Dad’s pretty story. Kill the witness; it didn’t happen.” I stare at him and wait for him to get it.

  It doesn’t take long. He inhales and shakes his head. Worry lines crease his brow. “I’m not leaving without you.”

  I peek into the darkness, but there’s no sign of the professor. “You let me worry about that. I’m valuable. They know that. Dad’ll take care of them when we get there.”

  Still he shakes his head, his jaw set like it’s been sealed with Gorilla Glue.

  “Get out of here by sunrise. It’s your only chance,” I hiss. I can’t go with him. I’ll just slow him down. If these guys don’t kill him, Dad definitely will.

  Talon has to live. No other outcome is acceptable.

  The creek of shoes against snow tells me the professor is near. I feign sleep, but I keep my eyes cracked.

  The professor eases himself down and studies first Talon, then me, then back again. He pulls out his hunting knife and begins to sharpen it against a stone.

  It’s just light enough to make out dim colors when a hand clamps over my mouth.

  My muffled squeal sends Talon to his feet just in time for the professor and Teeth Guy to attack. In seconds, Talon deflects Teeth Guy, scores his knife, and plunges it straight down into the guy’s shoulder, right next to his neck. Instantly blood starts shooting and dripping, and Teeth Guy goes down.

  Randall releases my mouth and yanks my hands around my back.

  “Why?” Right, like I don’t know.

  “We don’t need him.”

  “He’s the heir!”

  “My ass he’s the heir. Even if he is, only person that matters is you. Daddy’s little girl.”

  I manage to wiggle one hand free, and I jam my fingers into his eyes.

  Howling, he grabs his face, and I use the chanc
e to scramble to my feet. I’m off.

  Randall swears. I only get a couple yards before he catches me. He wraps an arm around my waist and presses his hunting knife to my throat.

  Talon and the professor are really going at it. Swinging fists, hits below the belt, tear-your-limbs-off style fighting. Who would have thought some weenie teacher could put up a fight like this?

  Then again, we’re three years past civilization. We’ve all learned a skill or two.

  “Hey, asshole!” Randall calls.

  But Talon and the professor are beyond hearing. Talon’s now up on the professor’s back, and I will him not to look my way. My only hope is if he kills the professor. Then he’ll at least have a chance against Randall. Talon has his arms tight around the professor’s neck like he’s trying to choke him. But the professor slams him back against a tree.

  I feel the knife penetrate my skin, ever so slightly, and my heart beats as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. My breaths come in shallow gasps.

  “Do I have to kill her?” Randall’s voice comes out louder, stronger this time, and the professor is distracted just enough that Talon gets a good hold of the guy’s head. Baring his teeth, he grunts and gives a violent twist. The distinct crack of a neck breaking nearly makes me vomit.

  The professor goes down, Talon with him. Talon grabs the guy’s knife and scrambles to his feet. The second his eyes latch on to me, all movement stops.

  “That’s right, Talon,” says Randall.

  “Let her go.” Talon’s voice is flat. Dead. His face has no expression. There is no evidence in him of the panic that’s stealing my air.

  Randall gives an arrogant cock to his head. “You drop that knife, or I’ll cut her—”

  I stomp down hard on his instep, and I ram my elbow into his solar plexus. Eighth-grade self-defense for girls. He swears, and his grip on the knife loosens. I wrench myself free, and with a sob, I take off for Talon.

  Something sears me in the back. Hard. For a second I can’t move, and Talon’s eyes go wild.