by Nina Croft
“We’re going to get that shuttle ready,” Devlin said. “And after that, we’re out of here. We’ll lead them away and then ride a wormhole to get some distance.”
“Is that safe?” Rico asked.
Saffira was still learning how to control the holes, and she didn’t always get to where, or when, she wanted to be. Now, poor Saffira appeared broken. Was she blaming herself for all of this? The dragons had followed Saffira back into this universe. If she had stayed in the other one, or been killed, presumably none of this would have happened.
“She’s getting better,” Devlin said. “And we’ll stick to little ones. Space, not time.”
They stepped into the transporter bubble and disappeared. Her mother and father left soon after with Angel. As Candy got up to go follow them, Rico spoke. “Stick around for a minute, would you?”
She glanced at him warily but sank back into a chair.
Rico took the seat beside her, reached under the table for another flask, and poured them both a drink. She sipped the warming liquid while casting him sideways glances.
“Your boyfriend is being an asshole.”
“I know.” She frowned. “But he’s not my boyfriend.”
“We need Thorne the pompous git back. Mr. Everyone-and-everything-is-my-responsibility.”
Candy almost smiled at the description. “I’ve tried, and I can’t get through to him. Maybe he’s gone forever.” Burned away in the flames that had consumed his people.
“Maybe you need to try harder.” He turned in his seat to study her. “He wants you. Even now. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.”
She’d been thinking the same thing. But she doubted it would make any difference. In this mood, he would take whatever she offered and then he’d leave anyway. “Maybe, but I don’t think I can change his mind. I thought Saffira might, but…”
“No, Saffira is part of everything he’s denying right now. She’s part of his old self—the self that he’s trying to leave behind. You have to be part of the new.”
She didn’t know how, and her confusion must have shown.
“Just show him what he’ll be missing if he goes.” Rico frowned. “You’ve done this before.” His eyes widened in alarm. “Haven’t you?”
“Of course I have. Lots of times.” Well, once. With Drago. It hadn’t been something she’d felt like repeating. But she wasn’t ready to share that much with the vampire. “But he’s leaving.”
“You could always tie him up,” Daisy said coming to sit on her other side. “That’s what Fergal used to do—to stop me ripping out his throat,” she added.
“Thanks for sharing,” Candy muttered. Too much information. She glanced at Fergal, who gave her a sympathetic smile. It was hard to believe that Daisy wasn’t much older than her. She had a world more of experience. “But somehow, I don’t think Thorne would let me tie him up, and he’s a little stronger than me.”
“Okay, maybe not that, then.”
“Just be yourself,” Rico said. “Stand up to him. Piss him off. Whatever it is you’ve done in the past. He obviously likes it.”
She could do that, except right now she didn’t feel like herself. She felt all wishy-washy and pathetic. “I’ll try.”
“Hey, you’re one of the most determined people I’ve ever come across. You want him—you go and get him. Find a way to clip his wings. Because I suspect he might be our only hope.”
Rico actually sounded rattled, and she’d never encountered that before. “You really think they might destroy everything?”
“They’re doing a good job so far, between the poison and the fire. We need to know how much is on purpose, and whether there’s a way to negotiate with them. And Thorne’s our only hope of that.”
She nodded slowly. It had never really occurred to her that they could be in danger. But anyone could burn. Even the Collective could be destroyed by dragon fire.
“Okay. I’ll do my best. But first I’m going for a run.” She needed to clear her head and hopefully come up with a plan.
“Well, don’t leave it too long. I don’t trust him not to slip away.”
“I won’t.”
…
Thorne took himself off to his old cabin—he’d spent enough time on the Blood Hunter to be given a place of his own. Did that make him crew?
He’d never felt like crew. Never felt like he belonged here. He knew there was a lot of resentment still festering from when he’d taken over their minds. It didn’t help that they knew he could do it again.
But he didn’t think he was in any danger. Rico wouldn’t try to destroy him. That’s why he’d sent Skylar and the others away. No, Rico wanted his help. That must have rankled. He wanted to talk to the dragons. Was he crazy?
He stretched out on the bed and cast his mind back ten thousand years to when they had crash landed on the planet. He’d been Captain William Thornton, of the colony ship Espera, taking a group of colonists, including his bride, to a new world. He’d wanted a place where they could be free, make their own laws, follow their own religion. And he’d gained the blessing of Callum Meridian, who’d been in charge of the universe back then. Hard to believe that had been only a short time ago for Callum, while over ten thousand years had passed for him. Callum had actually been a reasonable man and said he had no problem with self-government as long as Thorne took his little group beyond the defined edges of the Trakis system. There was a sister system close enough to reach without cryosleep.
They’d been on the outer reaches of the Trakis system, passing close to Trakis Seven, when a huge explosion had knocked out their systems and sent them out of control. He knew now that the explosion had been Callum destroying Trakis Seven. Back then, all he’d known was they were fucked. The ship had been dragged into some sort of vortex, a whirling tunnel of white light punctuated by flashes of violet. It had seemed to go on forever, leaving half his people dead or unconscious. He’d fully expected to die.
Except he hadn’t. Instead, the ship had been tossed out of the end of the tunnel to crash on the surface of an unknown planet. Thorne had blacked out at that point. When he’d awoken, the ship was gone—he’d presumed dragged back into the vortex—and his people scattered around the crash site. They were in a valley formed by a ring of mountains. And as darkness fell and the stars came out, he’d known they’d somehow been transported to a strange land. Nothing was familiar.
Then he’d felt the pull. Something had drawn him away from the others. He’d followed the silent call, through a gap in the mountains, along a dark tunnel beneath a ton of rock, and eventually into a wide cavern that glowed with an eerie violet light. The cavern had been filled with tentacle-like growths that coiled out of the rock of the cavern floor, walls, and ceiling. As he’d stepped among them, one had stretched out toward him and wrapped itself around his lower leg. Then there was red-hot pain, blinding light, and finally darkness.
He’d woken a second time and recognized he was changed but with no real clue what that had entailed.
Then he’d heard something—though “heard” wasn’t right. The voice had been present in his head. Though, again, it wasn’t a voice, but rather a knowledge—information imparted to him. Whoever it was, they’d told him what he had to do if he wanted his people to survive, and given him a list of rules to live by.
The planet was no Promised Land, but rather a dry, barren, mountainous landscape on which they struggled to survive. The Espera had been packed with tools, livestock, and plants to help them in their new world. They had lost all of that. But somehow they had survived. They’d had children. Eventually his wife had died and he took no other. After a few hundred years, he grew wings and knew the change went deep.
From time to time he was contacted by the Old Ones, as they were known. He had no clue where they lived, what they looked like, but they were strict in their laws and any deviation was dealt with harshly. He followed the rules because he needed to survive and keep his people alive. He’d promised.
/> No women were ever changed—that was against the rules—but children were born, and through the next generations subtle changes were noticed. They lived longer—the average lifespan around a thousand years—their eyes developed a faint hint of violet, and occasionally a woman would be born with strange powers. Powers to see the future and the past. To see where the wormholes that occasionally twisted through space above their planet might lead.
And a prophecy was made that one day a woman would be born who would save the human race and finally help him lead his people to the Promised Land.
Saffira.
As though he’d conjured her up, the door chimed. He thought about ignoring her, but in the end decided what the hell—it would be easier and quicker to let her have her say.
He rolled to his feet and pressed his palm to the pad next to the door. It slid open. Saffira was alone; she appeared small and almost fragile. He’d avoided looking at her too closely on the bridge. Now he examined her, the red-rimmed eyes, her pale skin. As he watched, she pulled herself together, straightening her shoulders. “You’re being an ass,” she said.
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Please, Thorne, snap out of it. We need you. I need you.”
“There’s nothing I can do.”
“How do you know if you don’t try?”
“Hadn’t you better go? Won’t you lead them straight to your friends if you hang around?” He was being cruel but he needed her to leave.
“Devlin is still sorting out your shuttle. We’ll leave when he’s done.”
“You know you should take my advice and get away, open a wormhole and go to a different time, where they can’t find you.”
She studied him for a moment. “If you come with us, I’ll go. We’ll take the Blood Hunter, go pick up the others, and get out of here. I’ve saved mankind once. Perhaps this time they’ll have to take care of themselves. But only if you come with us.”
Shock rippled through him at her words, and then he shook his head. She was playing him. Thought he could be tricked. She’d never forsake her destiny. “I don’t want to come. I want to be alone.”
She glared at him. “Do you know how goddamned fucking melodramatic that sounds?” Now she sounded like the old Saffira, honed to hardness by five hundred years on Earth.
He shrugged but didn’t answer.
She licked her lips, trying a different approach. Taking a step closer, she rested her hand on his arm. “Everyone I grew up with, everyone I loved is—”
Anger flashed through him. “Loved? Had you given them any thought, been to visit, talked to them—anything—in the last year? Medina would have given anything to speak with you, yet…nothing.”
She shifted. “I would have done.”
“You were too busy having fun with your new friends. Now you’re really free.”
“I thought I’d put them in danger.”
“Too late.”
She bit her lip and turned away. Saffira was over five hundred years old—a thousand actually, though half her life had been spent asleep in cryo—but right now she reminded him of the little girl he’d brought up. The confidence leaked from her, and her shoulders sagged. And he felt like the biggest piece of shit ever. But it didn’t change things—maybe he felt like that because he was the biggest piece of shit ever.
Her hand tightened on his arm, her eyes closed, and then she stumbled and fell to her knees. Thorne scooped her up before she hit the floor. He held her close to his chest for a second, and then gently lowered her to the bed. Behind her closed lids he could make out the rapid flickering of her eyes. He touched her gently, but she was so deep inside some vision, she didn’t respond.
Then her back arched, and she threw back her head and screamed.
He didn’t touch her again, not wanting to jerk her out of the trance. He knew her too well, and it was better she came around on her own. He crossed the room and sank into the chair opposite, where he could watch her.
After a few minutes the tension left her, and her lashes fluttered open. Horror filled her eyes. Whatever she had seen in her vision had not been pleasant. And he didn’t want to know.
“The whole world was ablaze,” she murmured. “And you were on fire and it was my fault and…” She hesitated and but finally continued. “I watched you burn.”
Heat flashed through him as though he were already on fire. Would it come to that? One could never tell with Saffira’s visions. Even she didn’t know whether they would come to pass, or whether she was seeing some parallel timeline of what could be.
“Then don’t let it happen,” he said, his tone purposefully harsh. “You know what you have to do. Just go. If you don’t, then it will be on your head.”
She pushed herself to her feet, swayed, and steadied herself with a hand on the wall. Then she gazed at him for long moments, searching his face, and he kept his expression blank. Finally, she nodded and headed out the room. At the door she glanced back. “You’re right. I’ll endanger everyone. I’ll go.”
Something occurred to him. “Saffira, make sure Candy goes with you. Make sure they all go with you.”
“You care for her, don’t you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just make sure she’s safe.”
She came back to him, wrapped her arms around him as she had when she was a little girl. “Good-bye, Thorne.”
Then she vanished from his sight. Thorne gazed at the space where she had stood and pushed down the niggle of unease, the urge to go after her and…do what? Her leaving was for the best.
Chapter Twelve
Candy’s mind felt clearer after the run. She’d somehow convinced herself she could do this; she was going to confront him, but first she wanted to check up on Fergal and the dragon situation.
Hurrying along the corridor, head down, she almost passed Saffira before she noticed her. She stopped in her tracks.
Saffira was leaning against the curved wall. Her breathing rapid, sweat gleaming on her forehead.
“Are you okay?” Candy asked. She looked like she’d just seen a ghost or, more likely in Saffira’s case, a vision, and not a nice one. “You look like crap.”
Saffira smiled, though it was definitely forced, and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “I’ve just been to see Thorne.”
“Oh.” Yeah, that could definitely account for the looking like crap.
“I’ve lost him,” she said. “He’s closed himself off.”
“Don’t give up hope yet.”
Saffira shrugged, and sadness lurked in her violet eyes. “He gave ten thousand years to his people. Now they’re all dead except the two of us. Perhaps he’s right, and now we’re free.” She pushed herself up, then stumbled and put her hand against the wall. “Sorry.”
“What did you see?” Candy asked. Saffira was making her nervous. The visions usually drained her of strength but not this badly.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Now she was really worried. Clearly something mattered very much. “Please tell me. You seem so…”
“Ashamed?” She shrugged. “Thorne just hit me with a few home truths. It hurt, but he was right. I’ve been so selfish. I haven’t thought of anyone but myself and Devlin in the past year. I thought I deserved it.”
“You did save the human race.”
“Maybe. All the same, I could have visited, done more, but I didn’t think there was any need to hurry. I was supposed to have eternity.”
“You still do have. So does Thorne. We’ll beat them.”
“So optimistic.”
Well, what the hell else was she supposed to be? Why were they all so defeatist all of a sudden? The people she had believed to be so strong were all falling apart.
Saffira gave herself a little shake and straightened. She appeared stronger, or at least not like she was about to fall down. “Where are you off to?” she asked.
“The bridge,” Candy replied. “To check up on what’s happening. Then I’ll go see Thorne. See if I can knock
some sense into him.”
“I’ll come with you.”
They were silent as they walked together to the transporter bubble.
“Bridge,” she murmured. The ship’s thought-control systems were still offline and wouldn’t be brought back up until Thorne was away.
The transporter bubble opened onto the bridge. It was empty but for Fergal sitting at the console. He glanced around as they stepped out.
“Hi,” Candy said.
“Hey, there. I’m just tweaking the program and keeping an eye on our incoming.”
“Are they still heading this way?” Saffira asked.
“Yeah. On a direct course. There’s also a third, which seems to be following but farther behind. It’s these two you’re going to have to avoid.”
Candy leaned closer. “Can I see?”
“Sure.” Fergal flicked on the monitor and the screen filled up with an image of the two dragons flying through space. In a way, they were beautiful, fierce and powerful, but whatever Rico thought about talking to them, they needed to die.
“Thanks,” Saffira said. “I’ll go check if Devlin has Thorne’s shuttle ready.”
“Do you want me to come?” Candy asked, following her to the bubble. For some reason, she didn’t want Saffira to go. She had a bad feeling she couldn’t quite pin down.
“No. I’ll be fine.” She turned to go, then came back, hugged her hard. “Look after Thorne, if he’ll let you. Maybe you can get through to him.”
“Or maybe not.” But she was going to have one hell of a try.
Then, Saffira was gone.
…
Thorne was still staring at the open doorway where Saffira had vanished when Candy appeared fifteen minutes later.
She hesitated a second when she saw the open doorway, then peered through and caught sight of him. Her eyes narrowed, her shoulders stiffened, and then she strode toward him. Once through the door, she paused, slamming her palm on the control panel, and the door slid shut behind her.