Kyle shakes it, wincing only slightly before touching the wound on his arm again. “You guys have a lot of explaining to do.”
I start to give out names when I notice a strange hum. “What’s that?”
The other four exchange unhappy expressions. “Sounds like an AAD,” says Jordan. “Security must be coming back online.”
With much cursing, we all turn our weapons outward. Kyle bites his lip. I can tell he wants to ask what an AAD is but is trying to keep quiet.
“Aerial assault drone,” I whisper. “It has facial-recognition software in it and can be programmed to kill any matches. Aim for the camera eye if you can. It’s the weakest part of the body.”
And there it is, flying around the corner of the supply shed. It hovers six feet off the ground, perfectly spherical except for the gun on top. Its heat sensors detect us instantly. We raise our weapons in unison when a new noise overpowers its hum.
A white van screeches around the opposite corner of the guardhouse. The driver, instead of hitting the brake, accelerates and whips the van around so that the side hits the drone head-on. It goes flying and crashes into the post window. The glass shatters.
“Summer!”
We make a mad dash for the doors before the drone can recover. Octavia gets the side door, and Gabe throws open the front passenger one. He stops, and I bang into him.
It’s not Summer in the driver’s seat. It’s Cole.
“Hurry up and get in,” he says. “Summer was shot, but I think she’ll be okay.”
Numbly, I push Kyle into the van and slam the door behind me. I don’t know what to take in first. Summer lying on one of the back seats, bleeding from her left shoulder? Or Cole somehow ending up driving our getaway car?
How did he know? Why is he doing this?
“There are first-aid supplies in the back.” Cole turns the van around and floors it for the gate.
I gape at him, clutching the seat so I don’t bang into Kyle.
In the mirror, Cole catches my expression. “I told you I’d always have your back, didn’t I?”
“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” I want to reach around the seat and hug him, but I can’t because he’s driving. Because he’s driving, and I’m in shock and exhausted, and Kyle’s glowering as he looks between us.
I’d rather blame my confusion on exhaustion. The adrenaline levels that kept me moving are now crashing. So I stare out the van windows and wait while Kyle says nothing, and Gabe examines the GPS, and Jordan and Lev put our field medicine training to use on Summer.
It’s only a matter of time until Malone’s men catch up to us.
Chapter Thirty
Monday Late Morning: Present
They do catch up, although not with helicopters, but with wheels. Cole says helicopters would draw too much attention, and they’re going to want to cover up our flight for as long as possible. We’re a black-ops research investment over twenty years in the making. RedZone will be in deep shit with the feds.
Octavia suspects the snowstorm is the real reason they don’t use helicopters.
I suspect Cole is closer to the truth. RedZone—Malone, The Four—don’t want to draw that much attention to their base. The feds don’t know about us and have nothing to do with it.
Whichever, it’s better for us. We shoot out the wheels of the first team they send, and after that, it’s easy to set up an ambush for the next. We leave the men alive but take their weapons and supplies. Then we destroy as much as we can under the hoods so their vehicles can’t be easily fixed.
With only three miles back to the camp, they’ll either have a crappy hike in the snowstorm, or Malone will send people after them. Since their broken vehicles block the narrow mountain road, no one can come after us on the ground for a while. We have a small head start. But The Four have operatives everywhere and other bases. Our plan was only how to get away. How to hide will be another matter.
Kyle doesn’t say much during either the ambush or the cleanup that follows, but he helps out when he can. Already, he’s using his right arm again like nothing happened to it. When we pile back into the van, I make sure Cole cranks up the heat for him. By the time we pass the exit for Devor, it’s toasty and the snow begins covering the road like a blanket.
I’ve never been a fan of snow, but today it’s like magic. Only magic could cover up the ugliness and evil contained in these mountains and make them sparkle with beauty. I just hope it’s powerful enough. It’ll take magic to help us disappear.
Around the next bend, the van hits a pothole, jostling us in our seats. Summer hisses, pressing a hand to her wound. I think about what Malone said, about using the secrets in Kyle’s DNA to make us unstoppable. Summer could use some of that power now. Soon enough, I suspect, we’ll all be in need of it. But not at the price of my newly developing conscience.
Easing my grip on the gun, I brush Kyle’s hand with a finger. His face is grim, but he takes my hand and envelopes it in his own. That’s enough. It’s more than I dared hope for and more than I deserve. The warmth that shoots through me seems to go straight to my heart, and it skips a beat. I curl my fingers around his, wishing I could transfer everything I was feeling through my skin. Wishing emotions made for better data.
Kyle’s beautiful eyes are sad when they meet mine, but not without hope. Maybe he can read my touch after all. Maybe he realizes how much falling for him changed my life.
I don’t know if he’ll ever be able to forgive me, or if I can forgive myself for what I did to him and so many others. And I don’t know where we’re going, or what we’ll do when we get there. But for the moment, that’s okay. No one’s on our tail anymore. We’re wild and free, and I know a few things more now than I did two days ago.
I know I’m Sophia. I know bad people are coming. And I know I’m no longer one of them. Life is looking up.
I always look up.
About the Author
Tracey Martin grew up outside of Philadelphia, the lucky recipient of a drama-free childhood, which is why she spent so much time reading about other people’s lives. It was while she was working on her doctorate in psychology that she had an epiphany—imaginary people are way more fun than real ones. And so she began writing. Never able to choose just one of anything, she currently writes both urban fantasy and sci-fi for adults and contemporary stories for teens.
She likes her coffee simple, her music epic and her movies to contain explosions. A city girl at heart, she doesn’t understand how she and her husband ended up living in New Hampshire, but writing keeps her off the mean, small-town streets. To learn more, you can visit her website at www.tracey-martin.com, or say hi on twitter to @TA_Martin.
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It’s all quasi-legal fun until somebody gets framed for murder.
Miss Misery, Book 1
Jessica Moore thrives on misery. Literally. Thanks to a goblin’s curse, she gets a magical high from humanity’s suffering. A shameful talent like that could bury a girl in guilt, so to atone, she uses her dark power to hunt murderers, rapists and other scumbags—until one of them frames her for his crimes.
In desperation, Jessica seeks refuge with the one person she trusts to not turn her in—a satyr named Lucen. Like every member of his race, Lucen uses his lusty magic to control Boston’s human population, and Jessica isn’t immune to his power. But the murder victims belonged to a rival race, and when they discover Lucen is harboring Jessica, dodging the cops becomes the least of her problems.
With only five days to find the real kille
r, Jessica faces a danger far more serious than the brewing magical war. The danger of succumbing to Lucen’s molten seduction.
Warning: Contains a heroine with a lust for misery, creepy murders, and creepier goblins, satyrs so hot you’d sell your soul for one, and scaly sewer rats masquerading as dragons. Who said magic was all sparkles and tiaras?
Lust can be downright lethal.
Miss Misery, Book 2
Thanks to her freakish, satyr-like power, Jessica Moore was denied her dream to join the Gryphons, the magical law-enforcement officers protecting humanity from the pred races. But after the Gryphons tried to arrest her for murders she didn’t commit, Jess is no longer interested. Too bad—they are.
Now that they know what she can do, they want Jess on their side. If she doesn’t agree to help them solve a new case, they’ll charge her with every magical crime she’s ever committed.
Nine people are dead. The cause? Exhaustion. The activity? Never-ending sex. Someone sold them tainted F, an illegal aphrodisiac made by satyrs. No surprise, Jess’s satyr allies aren’t pleased with her investigation. Worse, it strains her tenuous relationship with Lucen, the one satyr she counts as a friend.
As Jess delves into the shady satyr business world, she unravels a scheme more sinister than dirty drugs—and her relationship with Lucen unravels right along with it. Only the truth will save their friendship. But not before it turns Jess into an ambitious killer’s next target.
Warning: Contains blackmail, betrayal, and sex that’s literally to die for. Plus plenty of bad stiff jokes to go with it. Remember, just say no to magical drugs.
When it comes to magic, more isn’t always merrier.
Miss Misery, Book 3
Keep letting the Gryphons blackmail her? Or join a goblin for tea? Choices, choices.
Furious at the Gryphons’ betrayal, former vigilante Jessica Moore is determined to cut the law enforcement agency from her life—and hopes doing so will solidify her rocky relationship with Lucen.
When a friend’s soul is sucked dry by a goblin, Jess finds it’s not so easy to let go of her past. Unwilling to let down someone who needs help, she puts aside her anger to work with the Gryphons and solve the case.
A stolen soul isn’t her only problem. Boston’s goblin leader is calling in the debt Jess owes. To plug the holes in both her personal and professional dam, Jess must unearth information about a magic she never knew existed, all the while testing Lucen’s patience and stirring the wrath of old enemies.
What she discovers will reveal the terrifying truth behind the Gryphons’ treachery, and force her to choose where her loyalty—and her heart—truly lie.
Warning: Secrets will be revealed, friendships will be tested, and old enemies will pick fights. On the bright side, there are still naked satyrs for a distraction between battles.
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
11821 Mason Montgomery Road Suite 4B
Cincinnati OH 45249
Revive
Copyright © 2015 by Tracey Martin
ISBN: 978-1-61922-717-0
Edited by Sasha Knight
Cover by Kanaxa
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: May 2015
www.samhainpublishing.com
Revive Page 28