by Faith Hunter
Energy emanated from the thing, blasting him with a wave of mental heat as he approached. The machine was powerful. Now that he was close, he could sense that not only had it been completed; it had also been activated.
This was the thing he’d felt before—the machine that would bring more Fractogasts to kill innocents. And it was revving up fast, getting ready to do its job.
A device this intricate and powerful had to be precious to the Fractogasts. He was counting on it.
Blood dripped along his temple. The steps leading up to the device seemed almost impossibly steep. He managed to climb them only by using the ax to steady himself.
He didn’t dare turn his back on the ’Gast. Inching backward took time, but as he got closer to the machine, the creature began to hesitate.
Rapid clicks poured from the thing’s mouth, so fast it almost sounded like the beating of insect wings. Marcus had no clue what it was saying, but the closer he got to the machine, the faster the clicks came. The steady stream of sound got louder, and the ’Gast came to a halt, holding up its elongated hands.
Marcus froze in place, trying to figure out his next move. Dizziness and pain made thinking almost impossible. As it was, they were at an awkward stalemate, and every second he held it was one more that Simone and the kid had a chance to get away. He didn’t want to do anything to mess that up. At least they could warn someone of what was about to happen.
Seconds ticked by. Two more Fractogasts entered the room. He couldn’t tell if they were the same two Simone had drawn away with her safety net or not. For all he knew, there were dozens of the things lurking in this building.
Between waves of dizziness, one thing became clear to Marcus: He wasn’t going to make it out of this alive. There were too many of them. He wasn’t fast enough to outrun those long legs. And even if he was, there were likely going to be a dozen zombie shells between here and his RV. Assuming Simone hadn’t already driven away in it.
The hammer was here. Once he died, they’d take it from his belt and use it to build another one of these machines. Unless he found a way to destroy the hammer.
There was no source of heat intense enough to melt the metal or even singe the handle. The most powerful thing in the room was the oddly shaped ring.
The area he guessed to be the control panel was completely alien. No buttons or levers. The only reason he suspected that the flat area activated the device was that he sensed a trickle of purpose coming from it that seemed to fit the bill.
Maybe if he slammed the hammer down on it hard enough, there’d be some kind of energy feedback that would shatter both objects. Or blow this place up, along with the Fractogasts who could use the hammer to build another portal.
It was a long shot, but it was the best option he could think of.
Marcus lifted the hammer to take out the panel when one of the ’Gasts screeched. He’d never heard the noise before, and it made him look up for a split second—just long enough to see two human shells dragging Simone’s unconscious body in by her boots.
Her dark hair fanned out behind her, sweeping through the muck on the tile. She was too pale, and a deep, bloody gash bisected her hairline.
The closest Fractogast picked her up as if she weighed no more than a doll. It held her limp body in one arm and wrapped its spindly fingers around her neck.
Its gaze swung back around, the message clear: If Marcus destroyed the device, the Fractogast would do the same to Simone.
5
Simone woke in the arms of the creature that had killed her husband. Maybe it wasn’t the specific one who’d drained Jeremy of his life, but a detail like that hardly mattered right now.
The Fractogast’s skin was rough, like heavy-duty sandpaper. There was no give, no cushion to its limbs, and they were cool to the touch. It gave off the faint smell of burning hair, and each small shift of its body made a low crunching sound that set her teeth on edge.
She’d never been this close to one before, and now that she was, she was reevaluating her initial opinion that they were beautiful creatures.
In a distant part of her brain that was just now waking up, she realized that she wasn’t afraid. Pissed off? Yes. Disgusted? Big yes. But there was no fear.
What could this creature do to her that was any worse than taking from her the man she loved, and killing their unborn child? Everything she loved had been stolen. All the thing could do now was kill her, and that was a pale comparison to the hell she’d already endured.
Her head throbbed. She felt the wet trickle of blood cooling along her hairline. A slow pitch and roll of nausea sloshed in her gut.
She tried to sit up to ease the queasiness, but the ’Gast’s grip on her throat kept her immobile.
“Simone?” came a voice she recognized.
Brighton. He was across the room on the platform, that hammer raised in threat.
“Hold on. I’ll get us out of here.” Confidence rang in his tone, making her laugh at the ridiculousness of his claim.
“Yeah, you get right on that. I’ll just be here, hanging out.”
The ’Gast holding her screeched, and gave her a hard shake. Her head nearly split apart with the sound.
“You leave her the fuck alone,” warned Brighton. “You hurt her and your precious machine will be in pieces before you can stop me.”
The machine—the one that was going to let more of these murderous Fractogasts crawl through. It was glowing and whirring like it had been fired up.
More people would die. More husbands. More children.
Like hell.
A fiery wave of anger burst in her chest, clearing away the fog that had left her passive and compliant. No way was she going to let these things win. Sure, maybe the idea of dying didn’t scare her that much, but what about that kid they’d saved? What about his mother? His father? They were afraid of death. They all had something to lose.
There were a lot of happy families out there, and Simone wasn’t going to let even one more of them get ripped apart by these creatures the way hers had.
She shifted in the Fractogast’s grip, moving just enough to reach the knife in her purse. She didn’t know if these things had a soft spot, but she was going to find out.
The ’Gast’s beady eyes were fixed on Brighton, like he was the only threat in the room. From somewhere across the space, she heard another of those grating screams, but the warning came too late.
She plunged her knife up, aiming for the ’Gast’s throat, right under its chin. The blade barely penetrated the skin, but it was enough of a shock to make the thing drop her like a hot rock.
Simone hit the ground hard. She tried to roll away, but the blow to the head had left her dizzy and clumsy. Instead of getting out of the range of those giant feet, she managed to make it only about two yards before she rolled right into the body of the old woman.
The shadow of the Fractogast’s foot passed over her. Brighton shouted her name in frantic warning.
Simone slipped another knife from her boot and leveled it just as the platter-sized foot came crashing down.
The blade skewered its foot, shoving the butt of the knife into her chest.
One of her ribs cracked. The ’Gast reeled back and toppled over. It landed in a pile of discarded metal. Something snapped as loud as a tree branch breaking.
When she looked, she saw that the ’Gast was still. Dead or disabled. She really didn’t care so long as it wasn’t coming after her anymore.
Two more of the things surged forward.
Brighton yelled, “Stop!” at them, raising his hammer a few more inches in warning.
They stopped.
“You’re going to run, Simone. The boots will make you fast. Hide you. I’ll be right behind you.”
“I’m not leaving you behind again.”
“Just go. Now.”
She’d already left him once to get the kid out. She could have kept running then, but something in her—something she had thought long dead—forced her to turn around. There was still some life left in her. Some goodness. Some fight.
A whole lot of fight.
She pushed herself to her feet, swaying. Bloody hair fell into her eyes. She didn’t bother to wipe it away. Every bit of strength she had left she needed to kill these fuckers.
Safety net number two was still in the purse. “Boom incoming.”
“What are you doing?” asked Brighton. “Get out of here.”
“I’m improvising. Be ready to run.”
“I’m not leaving until this machine is disabled.”
“We’ll disable it after we leave.”
“Explosives?” he asked. “It might not work.”
“Explosives always work.” If she used enough of them.
“It took a magic hammer to build this thing. It may also take magic to destroy it.”
“I’m all out of magical C-4. Sorry. We’ll have to take our chances.”
“Not this time, Simone. I’m sorry.” With that apology hanging in the air, he slammed the hammer down onto the machine.
Both Fractogasts screeched in fury and lunged forward.
Simone ran toward Brighton as she flung one of her throwing knives at the ’Gast in front. The blade bounced off its skin, but its attention shifted to her.
Brighton swung the hammer again, only this time, the machine’s pitch rose as if it were speeding up. Flickering lights inside the oddly shaped ring began to glow brighter, turning the charging ’Gasts’ skin to rainbows.
The effect sent a wave of dizziness spinning in her skull. She grabbed the edge of the raised platform where Brighton stood to steady herself. He was nearly within her reach now, but he was also in reach of the ’Gasts.
“Behind you!” she yelled.
Brighton ducked just as a massive backswing came whooshing in. The blow knocked the hammer from his hand and sent it flying her way.
Simone jumped, going higher than she ever could have without the magical aid of the boots. The hammer hit her in the chest, causing a flicker of pain to light up her brain.
Something in there was definitely broken.
When she landed, the pain made her stumble, but she held on to the hot hammer.
The machine’s whir became a scream. The spinning lights spun faster.
Brighton rolled off the platform and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to her feet and out of the way of the next swinging blow.
One ’Gast was at the machine, its big hands moving in a desperate attempt to fix the damage Brighton had done. The other was coming for them, too fast for them to get away.
They backed up to where the dead Fractogast was sprawled.
Brighton ripped the knives from its skin and handed them to her as they kept backing away. “Give me the hammer.”
“You’re not going back up there.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
They squeezed between the wall and a metal shipping container. The ’Gast tried to reach them, but even its long arms weren’t long enough.
Simone stepped forward and stabbed at its fingers, just to give it pause.
“I won’t let you kill yourself,” she told him.
“Better me than someone else.”
“I’ve got a brick of C-4 in my pouch, all rigged and ready to blow. Let that do the work while we run like hell.”
“If I was sure it would work, I’d be all for it.”
The ’Gast tried again to reach them, this time from the opposite side. Brighton pulled her out of the way just in time to stop it from grabbing her by the hair.
He pulled the C-4 from her purse. She was too busy fending off the ’Gast to stop him, and hadn’t bothered to use the purse’s magic to hide it from him.
Within seconds, he had the hammer attached to the brick of explosives with a discarded length of wire. “I wish I had some duct tape, but this will have to do.”
He tucked the slim detonator in her pocket. “When I yell, blow it up.”
“Oh, no. I’m not blowing you up. You want to do this? We go together.”
She grabbed his hand and willed the boots to cloak them from sight. Then she pushed him out from behind the shipping container.
The ’Gast trying to cop a feel had its head turned away to extend its reach. It didn’t see that they were gone until they were halfway across the room.
Neither of them said anything as they hurried toward the screaming machine. Not that their voices would have been heard over that horrible sound.
The ’Gast by the control panel was still working as fast as its lumbering arms could go, but there was a change in its demeanor. There was no longer the quivering haste of fear. Instead, the thing was moving with excitement.
Brighton hadn’t destroyed the machine after all.
Through the oddly shaped ring and flickering lights, she could see movement. The space in the middle of the ring was darker than the rest of the room. The bloody glow of red lights didn’t touch it. Even so, she could see a mass of elongated arms and legs, sparkling with tiny crystals.
There were Fractogasts waiting on the other side of wherever that machine led. Lots of them.
As they approached, one spindly arm reached through the center of the ring.
A clicking cheer rose up, louder than the machine’s screeching parts.
The doorway was open.
Brighton ducked under that hand and jammed the brick of C-4 beneath the bottom edge of the ring. The hammer was wedged against the flickering metal, ready to become magical shrapnel.
A long leg appeared from the ring, and then a foot landed only inches from Brighton.
Simone tugged on his hand. If they didn’t go now, one of those things was going to step on them.
They jumped off the platform, coming face-to-gut with the ’Gast that had been trying to reach them.
She wasn’t going to be able to avoid a collision. There wasn’t time.
Brighton grabbed her around the middle and spun her away from the thing’s path. She had no idea how he’d managed the feat, but his grip shifted her broken rib and set her chest on fire.
A startled gasp escaped her chest.
The ’Gast halted in midstride and turned around. The few shells that had finally shambled back after being distracted by the blast headed their way.
“Run,” whispered Brighton.
She was still wheezing, unsure if she could make her body obey her commands. Not that it mattered much. Brighton was hauling her out with one arm, practically lifting her off the ground.
Her chest burned. Each labored breath was like a knife stabbing her side.
He looked over his shoulder, and she could feel the change in his stride. He went faster, forcing her to come along.
“Trigger the bomb,” he ordered. “Now.”
She looked back and saw spewing from the ring a steady stream of Fractogasts. More than she could count. Their limbs melded together like a pile of rainbow-colored pickup sticks.
They were clumped up, nice and close. But they wouldn’t be for long.
She fumbled with one hand to find the trigger in her pocket. With a flip of the safety cap and a single press of the button, the room behind them exploded.
Simone flew forward, going airborne. Brighton’s weight was at her back, and a second later it was on her back.
Her head bounced once on the concrete floor, and all the lights went out.
6
Two weeks later
Marcus winced in pain as he shifted his bag of groceries to unlock the back door to his RV. He still wasn’t fully recovered, but each day was a little better. He kept wondering if Simone was healing, too. Every attempt he’d made to contact her
had failed.
A warm breeze grazed his skin, bringing with it the scent of spring. The isolated piece of land he owned wasn’t much, but it gave him a place to park, a faint sense of home, and room to work in peace. No one knew where he lived, which was exactly the way he liked it.
He pushed through the door and set his groceries down near the fridge.
“Hey,” came a sexy, feminine voice with just a hint of a rasp to it.
There, lying on his narrow bed, with her back against his headboard and her stolen boots crossed at the ankle, was Simone.
Marcus paused in the act of reaching for the refrigerator’s handle, letting his shock settle.
She looked good. Safe. And sexy as hell garbed in a clinging leather bodice and complete confidence.
He hadn’t been allowed to see her after dropping her off at the hospital. He could tell by the way the staff was looking at him that they thought he’d been the one to beat her up. In a way they were right, which only added to how guilty he looked.
By the time they’d finished patching him up and he’d evaded all the questions he could about what had happened to them, she was gone. Against medical advice.
He was still angry over her leaving him to worry, and it came out in his voice. “What are you doing here?”
“Unfinished business.”
Anger evaporated as a string of interesting thoughts slipped through his mind, each one more inappropriate than the last. He didn’t normally let himself veer off into the gutter like that, but then again, most women weren’t built like Simone Solange—for both speed and comfort.
She slid from his bed, the move far too slow and sinuous for his peace of mind. Even with the faint bruises marring her cheek, and the pinkish scar along her hairline, she was still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
And probably the most dangerous.
“How did you find me?” he asked.
She smiled, and her appeal went to eleven. “Not important.” She grabbed a box sitting on his bedside table and sauntered into the main cabin. “Here. This is yours.”