Blood and Metal

by Nina Croft

  “Maybe she, maybe it.”

  She rolled off him. For a second, he held on to her hand and then let her go. After straightening his own clothes, he watched as she pulled on hers, ran her fingers through her hair, plaiting it loosely so it was out of the way. Sitting on the floor, she pulled on her boots.

  Time to get back to the real world.

  She got to her feet, strolled to the cot, and sat cross-legged beside Fergal. “So what do we do if your friend’s idea fails?”

  “It won’t fail.”

  She rested a hand on his knee. “Come on, Fergal, we need to discuss this.”

  “I won’t let you burn.”

  She shuddered. No, she didn’t want to burn. But if there was a way to save Fergal, they should take it. She should have died all those months ago. Everything else had been extra. At least now she could never be sorry that Rico had changed her.

  She wouldn’t have missed meeting Fergal again, not for anything.

  Even living forever.

  She opened her mouth to tell him that, but he hushed her with a finger to his lips.

  “Stefan’s coming back.”

  Fergal watched the fear blossom on her face. No doubt, like him, for a little while she’d managed to forget their dire circumstances. His body felt sated from making love, and he wanted nothing more than to drag her into his arms, close his eyes, lie with her, and pretend the world didn’t exist. But Stefan’s footsteps were getting closer—he was almost running, and that wasn’t a good sign.

  But though his body was satisfied, his mind was jumping. Maybe it was another side effect from Stefan’s non-poison wearing off completely, but he didn’t think so. It was nothing like the headaches he’d gotten when he’d put off taking the antidote—the headaches that had persuaded him he really was poisoned. This was like a computer screen that refused to be switched off. A humming… He shook his head, trying to clear it, but it remained a constant drone in the background.

  He pushed himself to his feet and went to stand beside Daisy. He hadn’t meant to touch her again, but at the last second, he pulled her into his arms and held her hard against him. Was still holding her when Stefan banged on the cell door and pushed it open without waiting for a response.

  Fergal raised his head, looked into his friend’s face, and knew the answer.

  “Shit,” he said.

  Daisy pulled free and turned to Stefan but didn’t speak.

  “What happened?” Fergal asked.

  Stefan shook his head. “No go. While Beauchamp would have gone for it—the whole deal is his baby—Hatcher wouldn’t even consider the idea.”

  “There must have been something you could say to persuade him.”

  “I tried. He was totally closed to even waiting, something about her friend getting away from him and it wasn’t going to happen again. He hates her and this ship she belongs to, blames them for everything that’s gone wrong. Callum Meridian going missing, his priestess making a dash for it…that hit him hard.”

  “It did?” Daisy asked her brows drawing together.

  “Hatcher isn’t popular. He’s not exactly a people person.”

  “No.” Fergal certainly couldn’t argue with that.

  “But the priestess was always a favorite, and everyone loved her. Otherwise, he would have gotten rid of her long ago. Don’t know why, but the way he talked about her, they didn’t get on.” Stefan had never kept up with current affairs, too wrapped up in his own world. “Anyway, he blames her lot”—he waved a hand toward Daisy—“for the high priestess doing her vanishing act. He wants her dead and soon.”

  “When?”

  “They’re coming for her now. He gave the order as I was leaving.”

  Fergal glanced at the unit on his wrist—still thirty minutes until dawn. But time was running out. The first flickers of real panic licked through his body.

  “And they’ve tripled security,” Stefan continued. “He’s not taking any chances.”

  “There must be a way for you to get us out.”

  “There isn’t. I’ve tried. There’s no way out of this area except by the front door, and no one’s getting through that who shouldn’t. We’re underground, the walls are solid—no breaking through them. You have to accept it, Fergal, she’s not getting out.”

  “No. I won’t fucking accept it.”

  “Just leave her. I can get you back to your cell. When the fuss has all died down, I’ll get you out of here.”

  “You really expect me to go and leave her? Let them take her out there and—” He broke off and gave a sideways glance at Daisy. She was pale, but composed. He could see no fear in her eyes, just acceptance. Well, he wasn’t going to accept it. No fucking way.

  He smashed his fist into the wall but felt nothing. There had to be a way.

  “Maybe you should do as he says, Fergal.”

  Her voice was soft, and he turned to face her full on and snarled, “Shut the fuck up. I won’t let them—”

  “Then kill me now. You know how to do it. You said you’d researched vampires.”

  “You’ve got to be fucking joking.” Yeah, he knew how to do it—stake through the heart, fire, sunlight, or decapitation. He could slice her head off, and it would be all over. No way.

  Shit, there had to be a way out. But he couldn’t concentrate. The humming in his brain was growing, rising to a crescendo, clamoring at his skull until it finally broke through and a red-hot shaft of pain sliced into his brain.

  He crashed down to his knees. Was vaguely aware of Daisy dropping beside him, reaching for him. His mind filled with words, screaming at him, senseless noise, rising and filling his head. His fingers dug into his skull as the pain swelled, until finally something snapped, and everything went black.

  When he came to, his mind was blank. He lay on the floor, his head on Daisy’s lap as she stroked his hair. Stefan was pacing the room; he could see his boots, backward and forward in the small space.

  “He’s awake,” Daisy murmured.

  The boots came to a halt beside his head. Fergal pushed himself up so he was sitting and then to his feet. He swayed but found he was stable enough. “What the hell just happened?”

  “The others are regaining consciousness.”

  “The others? You mean the drones?” He shook his head. Found it didn’t hurt. “What the fuck are they doing in my head?”

  “Look, before you start ripping into something, let me tell you one thing.”

  Fergal’s eyes narrowed, but he nodded.

  “You remember the biofeedback loop I taught you before we started on the final phase?”

  “Yeah.”

  “If you feel anything coming on again, start that. It should keep you in control.”

  “Well, that’s a fucking relief. Now, what’s happening to me?”

  Stefan took a deep breath—what he was about to say obviously wasn’t good—and Fergal only narrowly resisted the urge to snap, hurry up.

  “The drug I gave you should really be given to everyone in the same way, so each individual develops the suppressant over a period of time, as you did.”

  “Instead, you gave them it from me—that’s what’s happening now?”

  “Yes.”

  “And that’s what’s causing this?” He waved his hand at his head.

  “There’s a connection. Given time and training, you can feed information to them all. Like the computer inputs we use now.”

  “And they’d have to follow my instructions.”

  “That’s the theory, but right now your only chance is to use the loop and keep them out.”

  “Otherwise?”

  “They’ll explode your brain.”

  “You knew this would happen.”

  “Not knew, but I suspected.”

  “And you still went ahead?” Some fucking friend.

  “Hey, it’s not an ideal world, and I worked with what I had.”

  “Me.” Shit, what was the point in getting angry now? Besides, he woul
d have agreed anyway, he was just pissed off that Stefan hadn’t thought to mention the side effects before he’d started the transfer.

  It was a pity it wasn’t complete, and that it would explode his brain if he tried to use it, because right now, an army of cyborgs on his side would be very useful. “That last one wasn’t too bad. I feel okay now.”

  “They’re only just awakening. You got a flicker from maybe one or two individuals. Once they are all online, imagine what you felt magnified a thousand times.”

  That didn’t sound good. No point in having an army to command if he didn’t have a brain. “Okay. The loop it is.” His brain was back to the low hum, and he started the feedback loop—the last thing he needed right now was his brain exploding. Or him blacking out. After a minute’s concentration, the loop was operating in the background. “Done. Do you know how long until they’re all aware and able to function again?”

  “At the current rate, four hours and twenty minutes.”

  After The Blood Hunter was scheduled to arrive. “And after that—what? You release them and they get out of here and live happily ever after? You think they’ll let you?”

  “They won’t have a choice. Their ordinary army won’t stand a chance.”

  “What if they want to stay?” Fergal asked.

  “We’ll worry about that later.”

  If there was a later. He turned to Daisy.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  “Yeah, fucking brilliant.” He shook his head. “Sorry.”

  “For what?”

  “Getting you into this.”

  “I think I managed that all on my own.” She bit her lower lip, and a bead of blood formed. She licked it clean. “I think you should go with him.”

  “Yeah, I thought you might. Not going to happen, babe.”

  “Babe? I like that.” She swallowed. “I’m going to die. They won’t let me go, and I don’t want to burn.”

  “I won’t let you.”

  “The only way we can be sure is if you kill me now. That way you might have a chance to get away.”

  He’d known what she was going to say, but still the words sent a shaft of pain through him. This was like his mother all over again. Dying to save him. Well, it wasn’t fucking happening. He’d brought her to this. But what could he have done differently? He’d had no choice but to come here, or at least he’d thought he had no choice. What he should have done was made sure that Daisy hated him. He’d always been good at making people dislike him—why hadn’t he managed with her?

  His gaze lingered on the purity of her features, the line of her cheek, the curve of her lips. Maybe because he didn’t want her to hate him. He wanted someone in the world who thought well of him. He wanted Daisy to think well of him.

  “I’m not ready to kill you yet,” he said.

  “There’s no other way.”

  “We fight,” he said.

  Stefan took a step forward. “You can’t, there are too many.”

  “No such thing,” Fergal said. The truth was he’d rather die than kill Daisy just to save his own pathetic life. As he accepted that, a weight dropped from him. For the first time, he’d found something more important than proving his father wrong. Than saying up yours to the old bastard.

  He held out a hand to Daisy, and she slid her palm against his. “You ready for a good fight, sweetheart?”

  “I’m ready.” She leaned forward and placed a kiss on his lips. “Just promise me, if it looks like we’re beaten, kill me.”

  He reached out his free hand and stroked a finger across the smooth white skin of her throat. “One cut right here and you’re gone.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.”

  “I’ll fight with you,” Stefan said.

  Fergal grinned. “And share the fun? I don’t think so. Besides you can’t fight—you can’t even aim a laser pistol straight, and you have responsibilities. In fact, get out of here now and go see what’s happening to my army.”

  “They can’t save you, Fergal.”

  “I know. But Daisy can. Give her your pistol and get the hell out of here.”

  Stefan nodded, unbuckled the weapons belt at his waist and handed it to Daisy. She strapped it on, checked the pistol, and slipped it back in the holster.

  “Go,” he said to Stefan.

  He opened his mouth, snapped it closed, turned, and left the room.

  Fergal took a deep breath. “You ready?”

  “No. You know, I never wanted to be immortal. I had the chance at the Meridian treatment, but…I wasn’t ready. Now I’d give anything for more time.”

  “Don’t give up yet,” he said. “I never wanted to live forever, either. I just didn’t want to die. Now I want to stay with you.” He cupped her face in his palms and kissed her gently. “I love you,” he said. “And I never expected to say that to any woman—never wanted to.”

  “You know, before all this started, I was feeling pretty sorry for myself. It seemed like everyone else had found someone. They were all so goddamn smug and happy and I was alone and would always be alone. Who was ever going to care for me now? It was hard enough when I was green.”

  “I liked you green.”

  “Yeah, I know. But I was sure that I’d never have anyone, and deep down, I believed that I was a monster and I didn’t deserve anyone.” She stroked a finger down his cheek. “I’m just saying—it was worth it, whatever happens.”

  “And?”

  She grinned. “And I love you.”

  He kissed her again, held her close for a long minute, but if he concentrated, he could hear the sound of booted feet coming along the corridor. “We have to go,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I know.”

  She stepped back and drew her weapon. She was so small and looked so young and helpless even with the pistol in her hand. Then she raised her head and snarled, showing one sharp white fang, and he realized she wasn’t helpless at all.

  Fergal drew his own weapon, transferred it to his left hand, and shifted his right into a long sharp blade. His gaze strayed to the line of her throat—if the time came, could he do it?

  Chapter Nineteen

  Fergal opened the door and peered down the corridor.

  “It’s clear,” he murmured. “But they’re not far away. Come on, let’s go.”

  Daisy tightened her grip on the pistol and followed him out from the cell and into the white-walled corridor. The artificial light was bright after the dimness of the cell, and she blinked. The thump of booted feet was growing louder. It sounded like a whole lot of men to take one little vampire.

  As Stefan had said—Hatcher was taking no chances. He wanted her dead. Well, maybe she was going to die, but not at Hatcher’s bidding. Not if she could help it.

  There were only two directions to go: one led farther down underground and no way out, the other led directly into the path of the oncoming guards. There was really no choice.

  “Ready?” Fergal asked.

  “Yes.”

  She followed him along the corridor to a sharp bend, and he halted. “I’m guessing they’re about twenty feet away.”

  She nodded.

  “We go on three. One, two, three.”

  As one, they stepped around the corner. Fergal’s pistol was already blazing as they moved. Daisy held her finger down on the trigger as a group of about ten men came into view. They scattered to the walls as the lasers hit their midst, leaving two bodies on the floor. Daisy adjusted her aim and went for the group on the right, as Fergal shot to the left. Two more went down, but they were drawing their weapons now. A laser blast headed her way, and she dove to the side. It missed her by an inch, and the heat seared past her. More blasts were coming at her now, one scorching the skin of her shoulder. Fergal took a hit in the side, but it didn’t slow him down, and she realized he’d used his right arm as a shield.

  “Back,” Fergal yelled, and she leaped back behind the corner and stood pressed against the wall, her
breath coming short and sharp.

  “We have to go again. We have to finish them before they get reinforcements,” Fergal said. “You okay?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go then.”

  She ran, zigzagging to avoid the laser blasts. When she gave up trying and let her new increased senses take over, she evaded them with ease, keeping her finger clamped down tight on the trigger as she sprinted. Fergal was ahead of her, running straight, his flattened arm held in front of him to deflect the blasts.

  The guards were dropping; only three were left standing when they suddenly turned and ran. Fergal didn’t slow, and she raced after him. They were almost at the entrance now. Of course, even if they escaped the prison area, they still had to get through the headquarters. But one thing at a time.

  A sense of euphoria filled her, and she threw back her head and laughed. Fergal glanced quickly back, a frown on his face. Maybe he was worried she was losing it again. But she wasn’t, she just felt alive. Which was ironic.

  They were closing in on the three running guards. Her gums ached, and her fangs grew longer. She could almost hear the blood thundering in their veins. Their hearts pumping. Without slowing her pace, she stretched out her arm and pressed the trigger. The man at the rear fell to the floor. Fergal shot another, and she took the last. They leaped over the bodies and kept going.

  Ahead of her Fergal skidded to a halt. “Stay behind me.”

  She didn’t want to stay behind, but she did as she was told. Peering around Fergal, she spotted a group of guards up ahead. So far, they were just looking at them—maybe Fergal’s uniform was enough to slow them down, make them hesitate.

  Fergal shot into the group. As they spread apart, she realized they were guarding the main entrance—they’d almost made it. Staying behind Fergal, she shot around him, and one of the men crumpled to the floor.

  Fergal shot another. They were returning fire now, but Fergal deflected the blasts.

  They were going to make it.

  In front of her, Fergal went rigid. The gun dropped from his hand, and he crashed to the floor. The same as he had in the cell.

  She was exposed now, though most of the blasts were going wild. Her laser pistol was blown out of her hand, and she searched around frantically for another weapon. A downed guard sprawled about ten feet away, and she dived for him, wrenched the pistol from his hand, and shot from the floor. She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled back to Fergal, still firing.