by Kyla Stone
“You have a death wish?” she asked, irritated. “You don’t interest me. Get out of the way.”
“She’s the future. She’s the only chance at hope that we have.”
Her lip curled in a sly smile. “Is that the only reason you’d give your life for hers?”
He raised his chin, his jaw clenched. “She’s a good person. I’m not.”
Cleo’s gaze flickered around the room again, her dark eyes taking in everything in the span of a few heartbeats. “And you…have feelings for her.”
He hesitated for only a fraction of a second. He didn’t look at Amelia or his brother, but he felt their eyes on him, boring into him. “That’s not a secret.”
“We’re wasting time,” Li Jun said behind her.
With Cleo’s gun pointed at his face, he’d forgotten the guard was even there.
Cleo sighed. “And I was so enjoying myself.” Her eyes narrowed. “I am going to open this door, and if any of you try anything stupid, so help me, I will shoot you in the face.”
“Also,” Li Jun added, “Apollo is with me. Unless you fancy having your head ripped off by a lion, I’d listen to her.”
Gabriel and Micah exchanged shocked glances. Why would she open the door? Was it some kind of trick? An easier way to kill them?
This girl enjoyed the pain of others. Maybe she just wanted a front row seat to watch them die, either through a rain of bullets or the savage jaws of an attacking lion.
Indecision gripped him. Should he jump at her as soon as the door swung open? Risk it all to take her down and hope a few of his people could make it out, even if some of them died?
“Gabriel,” Micah said, warning him. Stay calm. Keep your wits. Don’t be reckless.
Gabriel used to be reckless. Was he any more? Reckless could get you killed. It could also save your ass.
The entire door retracted into the right side of the wall. Li Jun and the lion stood on his left, a hover cart loaded with a large canvas bag next to them. Cleo stood directly in front of him in the brightly lit corridor. She was dressed in the same dark, tight-fitting clothing, Jericho’s pulse rod clipped to her belt next to a large hunting knife.
He ignored the pang at the thought of Jericho. There was no time for that now.
He sprang at Cleo. With his left arm, he seized the gun, thrusting it to the side and up, so if she pulled the trigger the bullets would fly harmlessly over everyone’s heads. With his right hand, he jerked the hunting knife from the sheath at her waist and thrust it against her throat.
“Got you,” he said, inches from her face.
She flashed that enigmatic smile, the right side of her face crinkling, her teeth bared like fangs. “You’re good. But not good enough.”
He felt the press of cold steel against his upper thigh, the razor-sharp blade of the knife strapped to her outer leg a moment ago now jammed against his femoral artery. “You cut me; I cut you. Who dies first?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said, “as long as they escape.”
“How very noble. Unlike your partner in crime, who squealed on you the second we captured him. I didn’t even get to torture him, which was a real shame. Now, put your big knife down like a good boy and we can talk.”
“What makes you think we have anything to talk about?” He jerked the blade harder against her neck, forcing her chin up.
She swallowed, but her dark eyes revealed no fear. “If you refuse, my guard releases that king of beasts over there.”
Gabriel spared a quick glance at the cat. The thing was massive. Its collar shimmered like blue lightning through its tawny mane. It shook its great head and growled, a loud rumble that trembled the floor beneath his feet.
The lion strained against its thin silver chain, hungering to get inside the white room, hungering to devour Amelia and Micah and Benjie and the others.
Li Jun tugged on the chain. “Sit.”
Unbelievably, the lion sat. It stared into the room with ravenous golden eyes, ready and waiting.
“He’s well trained, but starving,” Li Jun said almost apologetically. “Moruga hasn’t fed him since Hector died.”
“So you see,” Cleo continued calmly, “mine is bigger. Let’s all put our dicks back inside our pants and try this again.”
“Go to hell,” Silas spat, scrambling to his feet beside Amelia.
Cleo sighed. “This is why I hate men. If you would shut your pieholes and listen for a damn second, you might learn something.”
“Put the knife down, Gabriel,” Micah said. There was no question in his voice, no quavering hesitation. He spoke with quiet authority, and Gabriel obeyed. He had no choice, really. She had him.
He dropped the knife.
He realized suddenly that he didn’t want to die. Not anymore. He was willing, but he wanted to live, if given the choice. Nadira had died for that choice. He didn’t have much faith in the God his mother had believed in, but he sent up a desperate prayer anyway. He had so much left to do.
Cleo shifted, her blade sliding from his femoral artery to his crotch.
He stiffened, his mouth going dry. Was this all just a game? Was she simply torturing them? Would she gut him like a pig now? Or worse?
She cocked her eyebrows, daring him to move. He didn’t move.
She took a step back and laughed. She slid her blade into her thigh sheath and rubbed her throat. “Just yanking your chain, asshole.”
Gabriel let out a long breath, refusing to let her see how she’d shaken him.
“What the hell do you want?” Willow scowled, her hands fisted on her hips. Finn was beside her, a towering hulk even with one hand gripping his wounded shoulder, his expression contorted with pain. Benjie hid behind them both.
“What I want—” Cleo picked up her rifle and slung it over her shoulder, “—is a mansion with a floating Jacuzzi and five man-slaves to rub my feet with oil every hour of every day. Not because I like men, but because they would hate it, and that would make it awesome.”
They all just stared at her.
She rubbed a smudge of dirt from her damaged cheek with the back of her hand. “I want to save your undeserving asses. But if you don’t stop standing there gawping like idiots, I guarantee I’ll change my mind.”
26
Willow
Willow stared at Cleo, stunned. She was sure she hadn’t heard correctly. Her neck still burned; her stomach felt like it had been turned inside out, her ribs aching. She must be hallucinating.
“Why should we trust you, scar-face?” Silas said, sneering. “You’re just screwing with us.”
Cleo grinned savagely. “If I was screwing with you, silver-dicked rich boy, you’d know it.”
Silas let out a bitter laugh.
Cleo’s grin widened. “Unfortunately, I am not screwing with you today. Maybe tomorrow.”
“We’re here to rescue you,” Li Jun said.
Willow touched the scalded skin on her neck gingerly, wincing. This girl was a sociopath. The Pyros were depraved killers. This had to be some kind of vicious trick. “Why? Why in the world would you help us, when a few hours ago you were delighted to maim and torture?”
Cleo whirled on Willow. “You really are as dense as you look, aren’t you? You should be thanking me.”
Willow sputtered, momentarily unable to form a coherent thought.
“What are you talking about?” Micah asked her.
“Sykes wanted to put a bullet in your head then and there.” Cleo cocked her head, her long purple braids tumbling over her right shoulder. “Or were you not paying attention to that part? I’m the only reason you’re all alive.”
Li Jun glanced at his SmartFlex. “We need to go.”
“We’re not going anywhere until you give us some answers,” Willow snapped, finally finding her voice. “None of this makes sense.”
Cleo sighed impatiently. She drew out her words like she was speaking to small children, or idiots. “I’m not actually a Pyro. I’m a New Patriot. I’m wo
rking for General Reaver, the leader of the surviving remnant of the Atlanta chapter, now Georgia and the whole southeast.”
“A New Patriot,” Gabriel repeated, startled, his eyes widening.
Cleo’s gaze snapped to him. “Is there an echo in here? That’s what I said.”
“Wait a minute, a New Patriot?” Rage ignited inside her chest. This was some horrible, twisted nightmare mingling the past with the present. Just when she thought things couldn’t get worse. “You’re a terrorist! You people attacked the Grand Voyager. You killed my family! You created the Hydra virus—”
“I’m going to stop your little rant right there,” Cleo interrupted in an infuriatingly calm voice. “One. What happened on the Grand Voyager did not go according to plan. Two. Our chapter was not involved in that particular mission. Three. The New Patriots had nothing to do with the Hydra virus. I would think your resident New Patriot would’ve cleared that up by now.”
“Well, of course he said that, but—”
“It’s true,” Amelia said quietly.
Everyone stared at her, gaping.
“How could you possibly know that?” Willow asked incredulously.
“I’ll explain later, I promise. The New Patriots are what they are. But they did not create the Hydra virus. They were trying to stop it.”
“But—” Willow sputtered.
Micah touched her shoulder. He leaned in close. “We’ll tell you everything, but right now we have to get out of here. I don’t like this either, but we don’t have a lot of options.”
Willow gritted her teeth and nodded. Micah was right. If it took betting on a demon to get them out of hell, then she’d bet on the demon.
“If you’re a New Patriot, what are you doing with the Pyros?” Amelia asked.
“They were easy to infiltrate. Moruga has a thing for fire. My face was made for him.” Cleo gestured airily at her scars. “Yuan, our science geek who also knows his way around a gun, came with me. The Pyros do contract work for the government inside the Sanctuary. We’ve been undercover for three months now. Feels like a year, honestly. But what better way for us to get intel than to hide in plain sight?”
“We won’t be hiding anymore,” Li Jun said.
“We’re breaking cover for you people,” Cleo said. Her gaze narrowed at Amelia. “For the cure.”
Willow looked at Benjie. She was Ate. It was her job to keep him alive, no matter the cost, no matter the risk. It was like jumping from the frying pan into the fire. But there was no choice. They either took a chance and put their lives in the hands of the enemy, or they stayed here and died.
Cleo circled them, prowling like the predator she was, taking everything in. Her eyes narrowed as she assessed them. “A motley bunch. Rather pathetic.”
Silas bared his teeth. “Not so pathetic I can’t break your neck with one arm tied behind my back.”
Willow felt a sort of perverse pride. Silas was an ass, but he was their ass. She’d take Silas over this chick any day.
“There’s no going back after this,” Cleo said. “You’d better be worth it.”
Willow grimaced. “We are.”
She grabbed Benjie’s hand, helped him to his feet, and strode out of their prison. They were in a long, wide corridor bracketed with dozens of doors. The walls were not as blinding but still white, the floors muted gray tiles.
She blinked against the fluorescent lights, still not used to electricity after all this time. Everything looked very sterile, like a hospital or lab.
“What is this place?” she asked.
“Rodell Industries’ research and development lab,” Cleo said briskly. “It shares a skybridge with the Hyatt Renaissance, aka Pyro headquarters, and is kitty-corner to the Fox Theater, which Moruga loves for some reason. That room he kept you in was used for some kind of selected sensory deprivation experiment. It’s Moruga’s favorite jail cell.”
Willow stopped dead in her tracks. Cleo wasn’t the only predator in the room. One of the enormous lions sat only a few feet away, its tail twitching. It was as tall as Benjie and looked so bizarrely out of place that it was surreal, almost comical. Until it yawned, showing off every single one of its long, pointed teeth.
Benjie’s fingers tightened on hers. “Can I pet him, Lo Lo?”
“No way. That thing will swallow you in one gulp.”
“Actually, lions tear and chew their food into smaller chunks before swallowing,” Li Jun said as he bent over a large, lumpy canvas bag on the hover cart beside him. ‘Though they usually kill their prey quickly by crushing the windpipe with their powerful jaws—”
Willow blanched. “We’ve got the picture, thanks.”
Finn and Micah inched past Apollo, both their faces ashen. Silas looked like he was about to vomit. Amelia’s face was as white as the walls around them. Only Celeste seemed more curious than scared, probably due to blood loss.
Yuan winked at Benjie. “Actually, Apollo’s harmless.”
Cleo scowled. “Are we giving away all our secrets now?”
Willow stared at them warily. “What do you mean?”
Yuan pointed at Apollo’s shock collar, which had faded to a dull blue. “The lions are mods, but Moruga fitted them with electrified collars. The shock makes them angry. They’ll bellow and growl and roar and look fierce, but they won’t attack. Moruga uses them to frighten and intimidate.”
“It works,” Micah said.
Celeste hobbled past Willow and went right up to the lion.
“What are you doing?” Willow asked, alarmed.
Celeste reached out her hand, palm flat, toward Apollo. “I always loved cats.”
“That’s no cat,” Willow said.
Celeste ignored her. “My Mom had a modded cheetah named Psyche.”
Willow rolled her eyes, but she watched, half-fascinated, half-horrified, as the lion allowed Celeste to rub the top of its head between its enormous ears. A rumbling sound erupted from deep in its throat. It chuffed softly.
Cleo arched her brows. “At least one of you isn’t a scaredy-assed baby.”
“I’m not a baby.” Before she could stop him, Benjie darted forward and buried his hands in Apollo’s mane.
Willow’s first instinct was to scream at him, to drag him back to safety, to throw herself at the mercy of the lion’s jaws—whatever she had to do to protect her brother.
Finn grabbed her arm, swaying unsteadily. “He’s okay. The kitty won’t hurt him.”
Willow hissed out a breath. “Kitty?”
But the lion only sat there, apparently harmless, placidly purring like a house cat. Although she’d read somewhere that lions couldn’t purr. Which just made the whole situation even more bizarre.
Her instincts remained on high alert. This might still be a trick. Cleo could not be trusted. But what choice did they have? The only alternative was burning at the stake like the Salem witches in the 1700s. Those people had been innocent, too.
“Two patrol drones headed our way,” Li Jun said tensely as he looked down at his SmartFlex, where a glowing 3D blueprint of the building projected over his arm, rotating slowly. It was some kind of biometric sensor map. Two blinking red dots moved toward them from the east.
Cleo swore and looked at her own sleek black cuff. “The drones aren’t supposed to reach this floor for another ten minutes.”
“The net is back online?” Willow asked, hope surging through her.
“No,” Li Jun said. “The Pyros hacked into a local, closed network.”
She was more disappointed than she wanted to admit.
Two more red dots appeared from the west, blinking rapidly. “What the hell?” Cleo hissed. “These aren’t on the schedule.”
“We’ve got four human guards at the south entrance, six at the west,” Li Jun said. “It’s time to go.”
Cleo pulled out two auto-injector syringes and handed them to Gabriel, who stood closest to her. He looked like he wanted to strangle her about as much as Willow did.
&
nbsp; “What are those?” Willow asked suspiciously.
“Adrenaline stims. We have a doctor at the compound, but these will keep your wounded on their feet for twenty-four hours.”
“And what if we don’t get to your little hideout by then?” Willow asked.
Cleo’s expression didn’t change. “Then it won’t matter because we’ll all be dead.”
Gabriel injected Celeste and Finn. Finn sighed in relief. “Much better.”
Li Jun pulled a handful of masks and gloves from the canvas bag and handed them out. Willow tugged hers on, put on Benjie’s, then stood on tiptoe to help Finn with his.
Dark purple circles rimmed his eyes. His skin was gray. He didn’t look good. The adrenaline needed to kick in soon, or he’d be in trouble. More trouble than they were already in.
Horne staggered to his feet, clutching his nose. His left eye was purple-black and swollen, his nose misshapen and an ugly yellowish-green. It was clearly broken. Gabriel had a powerful right hook. “What about me? I’m in extreme pain. I’ll pass out without something to alleviate my suffering.”
Willow hooked a thumb in Horne’s direction. “Please tell me we can leave him behind.”
Yuan frowned. “He’ll tell Moruga everything as soon as they find him.”
“True.” Cleo raised the gun. “So we kill him, then.”
“Please!” Horne cried, sniffling pathetically, raising both arms as he begged for his life. “I made a mistake! I was wrong. I was terrified and out of my right mind. Please—”
“No!” Micah said. “He’s unarmed. That would be—it’s wrong. Besides, we’ve got a kid with us.”
Cleo made an irritated noise. “If I knew I was gonna get stuck with the morality police, I wouldn’t have bothered.”
Willow would have agreed with Cleo if not for Benjie. She shoved her hair behind her ears. “Fine. Let’s go, numbnuts.”
“T-thank you,” Horne stammered. “You have no idea how appreciative—”
“Unless you want to be cold-cocked again,” Willow said, “I’d advise you to shut the hell up. Do not speak. Do not make a single sound suggestive of internal thought.”