Blood and Metal

by Nina Croft

  “So?” Fergal urged her again.

  “Um…er…” She couldn’t think of what to say. Poor Fergal. Growing up with that monster. How must he have felt, knowing his mother killed herself to set him free? At least Daisy could see now why he tried so hard to keep his distance.

  But Temperance Hatcher was his father.

  Ugh!

  In some ways, she could understand why he hadn’t told her. For Christ’s sake, who would want to admit to that? All the same, she wished he’d prepared her.

  Had he thought she’d look at him differently if she had known? Would she have? It wasn’t as though he got along with his dad. Or even had anything to do with him.

  But Temperance Hatcher.

  Probably the person she hated most in the world. The person her friends were on their way to kill. Right now.

  “Speechless?” he asked when she remained…speechless.

  She swallowed. Then again. Cleared her throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  He cast her a disbelieving glance. “Is that supposed to be a rhetorical question?” He shrugged. “Maybe because I didn’t want you to know. I’m not exactly proud of my old man.”

  “No. I can understand that. But you’re also not responsible for him.”

  “You wouldn’t have looked at me differently if you’d known?”

  “I don’t know. But I wouldn’t have blamed you. We can’t choose our families.”

  Well, in a way he had—by choosing to put Hatcher behind him. He’d left when he was twelve, and they’d obviously had no contact in the years since. And he’d only revealed his identity now to save her life. After all, they’d met Hatcher earlier, and Fergal had said nothing.

  There was something else.

  Fergal had mentioned his father had used him and his mother as hostages for the other’s good behavior. And hadn’t Fergal just handed his father someone else to use against him?

  Her.

  Damn.

  “Was that true about your mother?” she asked. “Being unfaithful?”

  He peered at the door where Hatcher had disappeared. “No, I made it up. She was never unfaithful—she loved the bastard too much. But I knew it would hurt him. Plus, he’s more likely to value me if he considers me ‘pure.’”

  “Good. Come here,” she said.

  He’d been keeping his distance as though he was scared to come close. Scared that maybe she would reject him. Now he stepped closer, but his expression remained wary.

  “Kiss me,” she murmured.

  “Why?”

  “Jesus, Fergal. Because I want you to. Because you just saved me from a very unpleasant end at great personal cost to yourself.”

  “I haven’t saved you yet,” he said. “There’s no guarantee that he’ll do anything for me. You might have noticed we’re not exactly close.”

  “No, and I’m glad. Did you ever plan to tell him? To see him again?”

  He moved closer, halted in front of her, so close his chest brushed against her breasts. “Yeah, I had a plan. Once I got my immortality, I would come back and tell him he could shove his religion up his ass and that I wouldn’t be meeting his devil anytime soon.”

  She smiled. “That would have been good. You can still tell him that.”

  “I don’t think I’ll antagonize him any more than I have to right now.” He nodded toward the cross-shaped scar beneath her collarbone. “Does this hurt?”

  She shook her head. The sting had faded to a dull ache. “You think he’ll do what you ask and not…?”

  He took a step back. “Kill the woman I love? Who knows? He’s done it before, if only indirectly. But I hope so, and at least it’s giving us some time.”

  “Yeah.” But was it enough? The Blood Hunter wouldn’t turn up for a few hours, and the place was crawling with soldiers. But still, with the element of surprise, they had a good chance of getting to Hatcher.

  Would Fergal stand by and let them kill his father? He claimed to hate him as much as they did. But it wasn’t so simple.

  Fergal winced. His hands were still cuffed behind him, but while she watched, his right hand turned silver, elongated until it slipped through the cuff before returning to normal. He rubbed at his head.

  “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure ‘okay’ covers it. It feels like a thousand people are trying to crawl into my head with me.” He gave a weak grin. “Hey, guess what, a thousand people are trying to crawl into my head. I wish I could talk to Stefan. Find out what’s happening.”

  “You think he’s on our side?”

  “Hell, no. Stefan is on Stefan’s side, but right now, he’s leaning more to us than the Church. Hatcher is unstable. So far, he’s let Beauchamp run with this, but that could change at any time. To him, we’re just as much monsters as all his other abominations. Well, all we can do for now is wait.” He gave her another grin. “And maybe pray.”

  “Yeah. Or maybe you could kiss me like I asked.”

  He looped her hair behind her ears, caressed the skin of her cheek, sending tingles running through her. Then he lowered his head and kissed her. Her arms moved instinctively, trying to come around him, and were brought up short by the chain shackling her to the wall. Instead, she pushed her body against him while her lips parted beneath his. His hands rested on the wall on either side of her shoulders, and he leaned in even closer, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, the kiss taking on the hard, bitter edge of desperation. She kept her eyes open and stared into his eyes, so close. Her nostrils filled with the metallic scent now so familiar, her mouth with the taste of him. She could hear the harsh rasp of his breath.

  Finally, he drew back, resting his forehead against hers as both their breathing returned to normal. Lowering his head, he pressed his lips to the mark of the cross. As he straightened and stepped back, she held his gaze. “Whatever happens,” she said, “whoever your father is—it doesn’t matter. I love you.”

  “Well, hold on to that thought, because it might be tested.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that, and she shifted as unease rippled through her. “Why? What are you planning?”

  “Nothing. I hope we won’t need to do anything. I’m hoping Hatcher stays away for the next two hours and your friends pop up and save the day.”

  “But you don’t think that’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know. Let’s just say that I usually don’t expect the best. Now, let’s see if we can’t make you a little more comfortable while we wait.” He raised his right arm, and one finger extended into a long, thin blade. Crouching down beside her, he fiddled with the cuffs at her wrists. One snapped open, and she pulled free of the loop on the wall.

  “Thank you.”

  He sank down to sit on the floor beside her, his back against the wall. Daisy followed him down, and he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. She rested her head against his shoulder and let out a long sigh. “Tell me how you managed when you were twelve. How did you survive, stay hidden?”

  “It’s not so hard when you’re on your own and don’t have anyone else to look out for.”

  “Ouch,” she said.

  “I didn’t mean…”

  “Yes, you did. If I hadn’t come after you, maybe you would have found Stefan and gotten away and none of this would have happened.”

  “Maybe.” He was silent for a minute, and she didn’t push him. “I don’t want to be on my own anymore,” he said eventually. “I survived—existed. Nothing more. You’ve shown me how much more there can be, and I don’t want to go back.”

  Her chest ached, and despair flooded her mind. It wasn’t goddamn fair. Rico would have laughed at that—life wasn’t fair, he would have said. Don’t plan on it being fair. “Damn. I wish…”

  “Don’t.” Fergal squeezed her shoulder. “Wishes don’t change anything.” He took a deep breath. “Tell me one of your long stories. You must have loads of them. Tell me about finding the Trakis One.”

  Was he crazy? How
could she concentrate at a time like this?

  “Come on, Daisy. Take my mind off the fact that my father is a crazy madman priest and my girlfriend is a bloodsucking monster.”

  She almost smiled but shook her head instead. “Okay.” She gathered her thoughts. “It was over twenty years ago for you, only six months for us. We had to break into the old Church headquarters to rescue Alex and Rico, and they were after us. So were the Collective, and the captain was dying of the Meridian poison—”

  “She’d been to Trakis Seven?”

  “Yes. Callum was giving her the treatment in exchange for helping him, but then he had to blow up the planet before she got it and…” She shook her head. Those had been dark times. “Anyway, Callum claimed Meridian actually came from the other side of the black hole that guards the system, and so we thought—why not?”

  He chuckled. “Why not indeed. Not many people would consider diving into a black hole. Go on.”

  “Well, Rico got us through, and there on the other side was the Trakis One, pretty much lifeless, but orbiting the hole and in one piece.”

  “So you boarded her and found Beauchamp and…”

  “Not quite—there was a whole lot that happened before that. First, we had to go find some Meridian for Tannis. We landed on the planet and—”

  “Shh,” Fergal interrupted her. “They’re coming.”

  When she concentrated, she could hear the footsteps. Hatcher wasn’t alone.

  Fergal got to his feet. He held out a hand to her, and she slid her palm in his. He pulled her up and refastened her cuffs behind her to the loop on the wall. Then he did the clever thing with his hand and recuffed himself. He winced again, and something flickered behind his eyes—a flash of metal—but he blinked and it was gone.

  Sitting on the chair opposite her, he cast her a last glance and focused on the door.

  It opened a minute later, and Hatcher came back in, followed by three guards. Without acknowledging Fergal, he came to stand in front of her. Now she knew to look, she could see the similarities. His eyes were so like Fergal’s, pale gray, but cold. His gaze ran over her, and his lips turned down. Obviously, he didn’t like what he saw.

  “Take her into the sunlight,” he said to the guards.

  Daisy’s mind went blank at the words. Some part of her noticed that Fergal had jumped to his feet. One of the guards turned and aimed his pistol at him, and he stopped abruptly.

  “Don’t do this.” Fergal’s voice was hoarse. “If you ever cared anything for me, or my mother, then don’t do this.”

  Hatcher nodded at the guards, and they stepped toward her. One of them produced a key and unlocked the cuffs, refastening them behind her back.

  Would it hurt? She’d never asked Rico that one. Would it be quick? Would she be able to stop herself from screaming? She didn’t want to give them the satisfaction, but she really wasn’t sure she’d be able to hold back. She had a flashback to the woman they’d burned back on Earth. She had screamed, even before the flames touched her flesh.

  “Father!”

  Hatcher turned to Fergal. “Don’t you understand? I’m doing this for you. I was nearly destroyed by loving a woman I thought was an abomination. I’m saving you from the same fate, saving you before this goes too far.” He nodded to the guards. “Take her. And my son. He must watch, see her for the creature she really is.”

  “It’s already gone too far. I love her. And if you murder her as you did my mother—”

  “Your mother chose to take her own life.”

  “You drove her to it.”

  “I was helping her. As I am helping you now. To find God.” He smiled, and it was far scarier than any expression she had seen on his face so far. “You are pure, my son. There is no reason why you can’t seek the Lord’s forgiveness and come back to the fold.”

  “You’re fucking crazy. That’s what you are.” Fergal swallowed, brought himself under control. “Look, if you keep her alive, you’ll have leverage over me. I’ll do anything you want to keep her safe.”

  “I have faith you will come back to me of your own free will. God has brought you to me for a reason.”

  They were dragging her across the room now. She didn’t fight—they still held a pistol aimed at Fergal—but she didn’t help them, either. She kept her gaze locked on him. He cast her a despairing look, and a new, unrecognized fear unfurled inside her.

  “Wait,” he said. “Just give us some more time. Just a couple of hours. Just…”

  “Take her,” Hatcher said.

  “No! Wait.” He licked his lips, swallowed. This time when he looked at her, his eyes held an apology and maybe a good-bye. “I have information. Important information.”

  “Tell me.”

  Daisy suddenly had an idea where he was going with this. She shook her head, frantically. “No, Fergal, don’t. Please don’t.” She couldn’t bear that he would buy her life with the lives of her friends. She’d rather burn now than live for an eternity with that knowledge.

  “I have to,” Fergal said.

  Hatcher’s gaze flicked between the two of them. “What is this information?”

  “I want her life in exchange for what I tell you.”

  The priest pursed his lips. “Perhaps. If the information is important enough.”

  “Believe me, it’s important enough.”

  “No, Fergal. Please don’t do this.” She fought them now, twisting in their arms. One of the guards drew back his fist and clipped her on the side of the cheek. She sagged between them, and the room went black.

  Fergal stared at the limp body hanging between the two guards. Her pulse fluttered at her throat, but she was out cold. It was better that way. He wouldn’t have to look at the hatred in her eyes as he betrayed her friends.

  But he could see no other way.

  He needed more time. How could he go from having eternity to having less than a few hours? That was all he needed.

  “Okay,” Hatcher said. “You have her life. Though she will be imprisoned. Now tell me.”

  “Goddamn it, swear it on your God. On your cross. I want to hear the words.”

  Hatcher raised the cross to his lips, kissed it. “I swear on my God and my cross that the girl will not be harmed.”

  Fergal nodded. He took a deep breath. “Her people, the crew of The Blood Hunter, are on their way here now to assassinate you.”

  Hatcher’s eyes widened. “They mean to break into the building and take me here. Are they crazy?”

  “They hate you.”

  “When?”

  “In less than two hours.” Maybe he should mention the attack to take place afterward. And maybe he shouldn’t.

  “Give me the details.”

  Fergal glanced sideways at Daisy. But he’d done this now—he was too far in to back out. His head was killing him. Waves of pain washing over him, sucking him under. He reinforced the feedback loop, but it was hardly keeping the others at bay.

  If he let go, how long would he have?

  He pushed the thought aside and tried to concentrate on the now. Hatcher—he still couldn’t think of him as Father—was still unaware of Fergal’s involvement with Cybercom, and he wanted to keep it that way. He didn’t think Hatcher would be able to stop what was happening to his brain, but maybe he would kill him rather than have an abomination for a son. And he needed to stay alive, needed to keep Daisy alive. It was all that mattered now.

  “Three of them.”

  “Who?”

  He’d forgotten that Hatcher knew the crew. “The captain, the pilot, and Devlin Starke.”

  “Starke is still with them?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good, the last of the rebels. We’ll make a spectacle of their execution—let the people see the rebellion is dead.”

  Not quite. Fergal had seen an army readying itself on Trakis Two. But again, Hatcher didn’t need to know that. At least it sounded like they would try to take them alive. While there was life, there was still hope
.

  Except for him.

  He’d accepted that when he’d made this decision.

  “Where and when.”

  “I told you, less than two hours.” He glanced at the unit on Hatcher’s wrist. “One hour, forty-five minutes, to be exact. And they have access to your schedule. So it will take place wherever you’re supposed to be at that time.”

  “Good. Thank you, my son. You won’t regret this.”

  He already did. But how could he have acted differently? He couldn’t stand by and see her burn.

  Hatcher turned to the guard. “Take them to the holding cells.”

  “I want to talk to her.”

  He pursed his lips. Then nodded. “Why not. You can persuade her to recant her sins. Maybe there is forgiveness even for such as she. But it will be the last time you’ll see her. I won’t have my son consorting with evil.”

  Fergal glanced toward Daisy and found her awake. He willed her to look at him, but she kept her gaze firmly on the floor.

  He truly hated his father at that moment.

  But not as much as he hated himself.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Daisy lay on the cot in the small cell, staring up at the white ceiling.

  She was totally aware of Fergal in the cell next to her, only separated by a set of bars, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at him, talk to him.

  They hadn’t been taken back to the prison, but to the holding cells on the first floor. There were bars on three sides. And guards all around.

  She wasn’t getting out of here, and her mind searched for a way to warn her friends.

  Hatcher was going to kill them. And it was all her fault. She’d rather be dead than live with that. But she hadn’t been given the choice.

  What right did Fergal have to make that sort of decision on her behalf? He should have understood her well enough to know she would never have asked for her life at that price.

  She wished she hadn’t passed out. She wanted to know what else Fergal had told his father. Had he revealed anything about the attack? Would it even go ahead if Tannis and the others failed in their mission and were taken? Skylar and Callum would get their revenge, but it would be too late for the others. Hatcher would have killed them, and it was all her fault.