by Nina Croft
They had left her wrists cuffed behind her back, but she hadn’t been restrained in any other way. Why would they, when there was a whole squad of armed guards outside, ready to zap her if she so much as looked at them funny?
Maybe Skylar and Callum would rescue her, and she’d have to tell them why their loved ones had died, and they would kill her anyway. They would certainly kill Fergal for his part in this.
And weirdly, she found she didn’t want Fergal to die.
At the thought, her anger rose. She should want him to fucking die. She should want to kill him herself. But she didn’t.
He’d done this for her. But he shouldn’t have. He had no fucking right.
At the thought, her anger flared hotter.
She fed that anger, because it was much better than the pity and despair she’d been feeling up until that point. Peering inside herself, she poked a stick at the place where the darkness slumbered. She needed it right now, needed its coldness wrapped around her, isolating her from her feelings, which were so painful and raw. It flexed and uncoiled inside her. But it felt different; always before it was as though the darkness controlled her, but now she could sense it waiting for her bidding. Except she had nothing to bid it. She was powerless.
And it was all Fergal’s fault.
That was better than it being all her fault.
She rolled onto her side so she could look through the bars and into the cell next door.
Fergal had told his father he wanted to talk to her, but so far, he hadn’t said a word. Which was good. Because she would have ignored him.
He was sitting on the floor, his back against the wall, his side against the bars between their cells. They’d uncuffed him, and his hands rested on his bent knees. She left his face until last and went still as she examined him.
Sweat beaded his forehead, lines of pain etched around his mouth, though when he saw her looking at him, they smoothed away, leaving his face clean of expression.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he said.
“Good.”
“I couldn’t watch you burn.” He turned to face her, and his hands rested on the bars.
“You should have killed me earlier. You promised.”
“I don’t want you dead.”
She glared at him. “I’d rather be dead than have my life at this price.”
“Maybe. Maybe the price won’t be too high.”
She caught her breath as hope fluttered to life inside her, batting feeble wings against her stomach. Did he have a plan? Had he found a way to warn Tannis? “Why? What do you mean?”
He cast a meaningful glance at the guards outside, who could hear every word they said. “Nothing. I meant nothing. Just that you’ll get over it.”
She wriggled into a sitting position so she could study him better. He really didn’t look well. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“You look—”
She broke off as there was a commotion among the guards. Peering through the bars, she saw Fergal’s friend Stefan arguing with them. Fergal pulled himself to his feet and strode across the small cell to stand at the front on the side farthest from her.
Finally, the guards let Stefan through, but they watched him closely as he approached where Fergal stood, his big hands wrapped around the bars. Stefan stepped up close, and the two men talked quietly. Daisy strained to hear, but Fergal had his back to her and their voices were too low. She didn’t know whether it was the guards or her they didn’t want to overhear them. She suspected both.
Stefan appeared to get heated about something, his voice rising.
“You can’t, Fergal, it will destroy you.”
Fergal obviously persuaded him, because the other man gave a curt nod, whirled around and stalked back through the guards.
He did not look happy.
But neither did Fergal.
Something extremely unpleasant was going on in his head. That much she was certain of. She’d wanted him to feel bad, to feel guilt. Now the grim expression on his face caused her a stab of pain.
When he went back to his corner and slid down to sit on the floor, she only hesitated a second. She struggled to her feet, crossed her cell, and sank to the floor next to him. Now only the bars separated them. And when Fergal’s hand slid through to rest on her knee, she didn’t move away.
The sun must be fully up by now. She didn’t need to sleep during the day, but she could feel it tugging at her mind. Leaning her back against the wall, she closed her eyes and waited for what would come next. The destruction of everyone she held dear.
The guards came for them an hour later. Daisy blinked open her eyes as they unlocked the cell door. Her arms ached from being held behind her, and she scrambled to her feet and rolled her shoulders to ease the tension. Fergal was already up and heading toward where the guards waited. She glanced to her own guards, and they returned her look warily. Obviously, news had spread of what she was, and they were taking no chances.
One gestured for her to turn around. When she did, they tied some sort of gag over her mouth. No doubt so she couldn’t call out to warn her friends.
They didn’t bother to gag Fergal, but why would they? He’d given them this information, and he was hardly likely to warn the crew of The Blood Hunter now. No doubt if he did, his dear dad would toss her out into the sunlight without a moment’s thought.
A ring of guards surrounded them as they made their way to the main audience room on the first floor. She remembered the route from the information Alex had given her. And this was where they’d planned to attack Hatcher.
He obviously knew the details.
The room was huge. And windowless. A raised dais stood at one end, and a screen had been set up behind it. Chairs lined the side walls. There was a lot of activity, mostly soldiers milling about. She spotted Hatcher on the dais in his long black robes. His gaze flickered to her, then away as though he found even looking at her distasteful. He was talking to a soldier, an officer by the looks of the man, but he waved their guards to a halt as they came up level with him, then took a step toward Fergal.
“I’m told the scientist came to see you. Why?”
“Apparently, you’d told him he could have me for his experiments. He was a little pissed off that I’d been moved without his knowing.”
“That was before I knew who you were. He won’t touch you. And he won’t be around much longer. Once he’s done his purpose, he and his work will be destroyed.”
“His purpose?”
“God’s work,” Hatcher replied.
“Yeah, right.”
So Hatcher meant to destroy the rest of Cybercom. How would Beauchamp feel at being deprived of his army? Did he even know what Hatcher planned? Somehow, she doubted it. Possibly, Max Beauchamp was no longer in the high priest’s confidence.
“Place them out of sight,” Hatcher ordered the guards.
Someone took her by the shoulder, hustled her behind the screen, and shoved her into a chair, adjusting her cuffs so she couldn’t stand. Fergal was pushed into the chair next to her but left free. He stared straight ahead.
She wanted to ask what Stefan had really wanted, but there were still guards too close.
Lots of guards.
Looking around, she realized the screen had actually cut off half the room. And sharing the space behind it with them was a whole load of heavily armed men. Certainly more than enough to take three attackers, even if they were the fiercest fighters ever.
She swallowed.
The truth was, however fierce, they wouldn’t stand a chance.
In that moment, she almost hated Fergal.
Fergal caught her expression, a combination of despair and hatred. He looked away—this had gone too far to change now even if he wanted to.
The screen was slatted, and through the gaps he could see the audience chamber. The room was clearing of soldiers. They disappeared out of the side doors or behind the screen, leaving only Hatcher and two
nuns who stood on either side of the priest, their heads bowed, plus a minimal number of guards, no doubt normal for these occasions.
The big double doors opened, and the room began to fill up. This was the weekly open audience where people could come and petition the high priest. It was supposed to make him look like some sort of man of the people, make him accessible to his congregation, but in fact he looked like a superior bastard standing on his dais looking down at the peasants.
A woman came forward first and spoke; Fergal didn’t take in the words. He was searching the room for any sign of The Blood Hunter’s crew. They were hardly inconspicuous. But so far nothing.
Maybe they wouldn’t come.
They hadn’t heard from Daisy, so they must know something was wrong.
Hatcher replied to the woman, and she stepped back and merged with the crowd.
Two men came forward next. Fergal let the words wash over him.
Wiping the sweat from his forehead, he checked the biofeedback loop. It was holding—just. He eased back a little, and a thousand minds clamored to get in. He shut them down. A bead of sweat trickled down inside his shirt. Stefan had said he would heat up. It felt like his blood was about to boil in his veins.
And he was ravenous. Strange at a time like this, but hunger was gnawing at his insides.
He spotted Rico the moment he entered the room. The vampire was hard to miss, though at first glance he appeared human. He also appeared to be alone and unarmed. Fergal doubted that was the case—he’d never seen Rico without a weapon. But maybe everyone was searched before they were allowed into the audience chamber. Rico paused just inside the room and then wove through the crowd to stand to the side of the dais.
Tannis entered next. She looked exactly the same as usual; her only concession to a disguise was contact lenses that turned her inhuman violet eyes to a soft brown. The violet would have labeled her as Collective, perhaps not something you wanted to advertise in the present company. She stayed at the back of the room and took up position close to one of the guards.
Devlin arrived last. Like Tannis, he’d changed his eyes and also toned down his dress. Usually he looked like a soldier, in khaki combats and boots. Today he was wearing black pants and a shirt, his black-and-gold hair pulled into a ponytail.
A sound from behind him made Fergal glance back. Daisy was sitting upright in the chair. Still gagged, she managed to speak quite eloquently with her eyes.
As he gave a small nod, she blinked and swallowed.
Fergal turned his attention back to the room. It didn’t look like the guards had noticed the newcomers. Was it an act?
Hatcher continued to call petitioners up. He must know they were there. Had he ordered the guards to let them in so they could be contained? It had to be dangerous with so many civilians about, but maybe Hatcher thought the sacrifice worth the risk.
Devlin had taken up position on the opposite side of the door from Tannis, close to a second guard.
Of course, they would need weapons.
He kept his eyes on Devlin, saw the infinitesimally small nod he gave Tannis, and a second later, they both exploded into action. Devlin leaped for his guard, snapped the man’s neck, and drew the weapon from the holster in one smooth move. Tannis killed her man, swung her stolen laser around onto the next guard, and blasted him through the head.
They were good.
Devlin snatched up another gun, and together they moved through the room.
“On the floor,” Tannis shouted.
Most of the congregation had already hit the floor anyway. She swung around and shot another guard while Devlin got the last.
Rico stood alone in the center of the room. He still appeared weaponless, but Devlin called to him and tossed the second laser pistol. Rico caught the weapon smoothly and raised it to the man on the dais.
But there were soldiers racing out from behind the screen now, filling the space between Rico and the high priest, who stood unmoving through the whole thing.
“Mierda,” the vampire swore. Tannis was beside him now, and they took up positions back to back, as though they’d done it a thousand times. The soldiers were returning fire, but they deflected the blasts with ease and countered with their own shots. The line of soldiers thinned, but more swarmed in from the side doors to take their place.
There were too many.
The room filled with smoke and the sickly scent of scorched flesh, moans from the injured and the occasional panicked squeal from one of the congregation. Devlin stood at right angles to the other two, shooting continuously. He took a hit to the arm but kept on firing. Then Rico took a blast right in the chest and was hurled to the floor. Without him at her back, Tannis was shot in the shoulder, and the gun went spinning from her hand.
Only Devlin was shooting back now.
“Stop,” Hatcher roared.
Nobody stopped.
Rico was back on his feet. He leaped for the nearest guard, ripping his throat out. No one was going to mistake him for human now. His fangs were elongated, dripping with crimson, his eyes glowing. He pulled the gun from the man’s limp fingers and tossed the body back to the ground.
But Hatcher was surrounded. No way were they getting to him, and it would only be a matter of time. The soldiers were closing in on them.
While the fight had been going on, the civilians had crawled away until only the three in the center of the room were left, surrounded by a shrinking circle of guards. The laser blasts were coming continuously. Rico and Tannis were hit at the same time, and Devlin spun as a shot took him in the back, but they all kept blasting.
Fergal was focused on the fight and hardly noticed as two guards came around the screen. He only took notice when they reached Daisy and pulled her to her feet. Her gaze flashed to Fergal, panic in her eyes.
He shook his head. “Don’t fight,” he mouthed the words, knowing they wouldn’t be heard above the chaos.
She was shaking visibly, probably fighting to keep control. Beneath the singed flesh, the smell of blood lay heavy on the air. Her nostrils flared, but she held herself together as they half led, half dragged her out from behind the screen. At least she was protected from the shooting by the thick line of soldiers guarding the high priest. Fergal followed close behind, and no one tried to stop him.
As they reached the dais, Hatcher grabbed her arm and pulled her up. Holding her close, he took a laser pistol from one of the guards and pressed it under her chin.
Fergal stepped forward, but this time a guard stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. He held her gaze, saw her swallow but hold herself together as she took in the fight still going on.
“Stop or I kill the girl.” Hatcher’s voice carried above the noise of the fight. For a moment, nothing happened. The lasers continued to flare. Rico glanced up and his eyes fixed on Daisy. He stopped shooting, and a blast hit him in the leg, sending him to the floor.
Tannis whirled around, and she too caught sight of Daisy. Fury flashed across her face, but she lowered her arm and stopped.
Devlin must have realized something was up. He glanced quickly behind him and went still.
The shooting ceased. Silence fell.
“Drop your weapons.”
“Great, fucking great,” Tannis muttered, but she hurled the laser pistol to the floor. Rico had lost his when he fell; now he struggled to his feet and rubbed at his thigh. Devlin swore and dropped his own pistol.
“Search them, remove their communication units, and cuff them,” Hatcher said.
They didn’t fight as they were patted down, a scanner run over their bodies, and their wrists pulled behind their backs and cuffed.
Hatcher loosened his hold on Daisy, and she almost fell. Fergal caught her as she stumbled back, but she pulled free of him and stood on her own.
“Put her with the others.” Hatcher nodded to one of the guards.
“You swore she wouldn’t be harmed.”
“She won’t. I thought she’d like to say good-bye
to her friends. Perhaps explain to them what went wrong with their plan.”
Bastard.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Well, you made a right fucking mess of this one, didn’t you,” Rico muttered as the guard gave Daisy a shove that put her in the middle of the small group.
She would have answered, but she was still gagged. Anyway, what could she say other than agreeing with him?
“Freaking hell,” Tannis snarled at her. “What happened to keeping a low profile if you were caught?”
“Did you tell them?” Devlin asked. “Did you give us up?”
Daisy glared at him.
“Well, someone had to ask,” Devlin said.
“Of course she didn’t give us up,” Tannis snapped. “But I’m going to make a guess at who did. Bastard.”
Daisy followed her gaze to where Fergal stood on the dais beside Hatcher. Side by side, the similarities were even more evident. He was talking heatedly with his father, but they both turned to look at her.
Hatcher nodded once and stalked away to talk to the head guard, leaving Fergal standing alone.
If anything, he looked worse than the rest of them put together. A fine sheen of sweat covered his face, and when he ran a hand through his hair, his fingers trembled.
“He doesn’t look too good,” Rico said. “Did they torture him? Not that I’ll fucking forgive him for this even if they did.”
She shook her head.
“So he just gave us up?” Tannis said. “Great, fucking great. I knew we couldn’t trust the bastard. Fucking reporters. Is that why he did it—to get a story?”
Daisy glared at her. It wasn’t as though she could answer.
“Well, I’ll torture him myself if I ever get out of this.”
Hatcher glided toward them, his eyes gleaming. “Well, we meet again. I think we’ll make your executions sooner rather than later. Just a little time to set things up and make sure the world will be watching. This time you all die.” He gave Daisy a dismissive glance. “Except that one. But first, call your ship. Make sure they know if they enter our airspace, you will all die immediately. Including the girl.”