The Dark Sky Collection: The Dark Sky Collection

by Amy Braun

  “Your belt and all the tools on it. Give them up.”

  He might as well have asked for my life. Being an engineer was the only reason I’d survived this long. My inventions gave me defense, and my tools allowed me to create more. I could build, destroy, remodel and create in exchange for food or shelter. My tools were part of me, and like my boots, they were irreplaceable.

  “No.”

  The rogue took a step closer to me. I balled my fists and narrowed my eyes, hoping he wouldn’t see my heart banging around my ribcage and the fear in my eyes.

  “I’m not asking. Give us your belt, and leave with your life. Besides, you have a bigger problem right now, don’t you? That sister of yours?”

  I fell into a trance of despair. My heart felt like it had been carved out, the emptiness pulsing with pain instead of blood. I dragged air into my lungs, only making my chest ache more. My head was spinning, but I held my ground and glared at him.

  “I have a better offer. Whatever you want fixed, I can repair.”

  The rogue’s eyes traced over my face, as if he could read every expression there. I don’t know if it was part of being thrown around and abused, but I felt a little lightheaded under his gaze.

  “You’re an engineer,” he stated.

  “Yes,” I answered. “I work for Garnet Dayton.”

  “Dayton?” exclaimed the stocky man. “Damn. You must be good at your job.” He glanced past me to the rogue. “What do you think, Sawyer?”

  I turned to look at the tawny-eyed rogue. Sawyer.

  “I think if Dayton really wants her back, he better be willing to pay.”

  “Wait, what?!” I shouted as Sawyer grabbed my arm and started dragging me out of the alley. “What are you doing?! Let go of me!”

  “Stop shouting,” Sawyer hissed. “The Hellions could still be out here.”

  “I don’t care!” I screamed back. “I need to find my sister! Let me go!”

  I whirled around and swung my fist at his face. Sawyer was quicker, letting go of my arm so he could grab my fist. Golden eyes blazed intensely at me, sending a nervous flutter through my heart.

  “You had your shot. You only get one.”

  Sawyer pulled my wrist and spun me around until my arm was trapped behind my back. I growled and dug my heels into the ground, too angry to feel the hurt I was putting on myself.

  “Please! I’ll do anything you want! Just let me go! My sister needs me!”

  “Nash, get something to gag her.”

  The stocky man, Nash, looked at me and hesitated. “I don’t know, Sawyer. She looks like a biter.”

  “Nash.”

  He sighed. “Fine, fine, fine.” He reached into the breast pocket of his work shirt and pulled out a dirty strip of cloth.

  “Gemma, you have anything to knock her out?”

  “Besides a punch in the head?”

  “Yes, besides that.”

  Gemma took a thin vial of clear liquid and popped off the stopper. “Last dose I have. No more drugging and stealing for a while.”

  She took the cloth from Nash and poured the vial over top of it. I screamed again, then rocked my head back. My skull collided with Sawyer’s nose, drawing a sharp grunt from him. And loosening his grip. I twisted until I was free and started running–

  I wasn’t fast enough. Arms looped around my waist and trapped my hands to my sides. I tried forcing my head back again, but whoever was holding me dodged and tightened their grip.

  “Wow,” Gemma said, coming around Sawyer’s right side. “She’s got nice boots and almost knocked Sawyer out twice. I like her already.”

  Sawyer turned his head and glared at her, but she was still smiling at me. Before I could scream at her, Gemma stalked forward and pressed the cloth over my mouth. The rag smelled sickly sweet, and while I tried to hold my breath to fight the smell, I wasn’t able to. I gasped, sucking in the smell that went straight to my head. My vision blurred and my head became foggy. I groaned and blinked, trying to stay awake, but every breath dragged me deeper into darkness. My head spun one more time before everything turned black again.

  Chapter 3

  I woke up on a soft pile of blankets with a pounding head and a dry throat. I groaned and felt a bandage on my shoulder, another at the base of my neck. I lifted my hand to touch them and found that my wrists were bound in front of me with thick, scratchy rope. I sat up and looked for something on my tool belt, only to find that it too was gone.

  “In case you decide to fight again,” an impatient voice said over me.

  I looked up from my spot on the floor to find myself staring at Sawyer. He’d removed his gloves and frock coat and folded his arms over his chest. His biceps were outlined under the white cotton shirt, and I realized I’d underestimated how strong he probably was. While Nash looked like the kind of man who’d been lifting concrete slabs for fun ever since childhood, Sawyer’s muscles were leaner, built over time and hard work. Built for speed and precision.

  My pulse began to quicken as I realized I couldn’t escape. I was still groggy from whatever Gemma had drugged me with. My body felt heavy and sluggish. Sawyer didn’t look the least bit tired– or reasonable– at the moment.

  He unfolded his arms and revealed a silver flask that had been hidden behind his crossed arms. “Drink this.”

  Sawyer held the flask out to me. I didn’t touch it. Just because Gemma claimed to use the last of her sleeping drug, didn’t mean she didn’t have more here… wherever here was.

  When it became clear I would refuse to drink anything he offered me, Sawyer sighed and unscrewed the cap. He took a long swig of whatever was inside, swallowed, then lowered the flask. I watched for the slightest twitch, though I couldn’t imagine him poisoning himself. Marauders were reckless, but they weren’t reckless and stupid.

  Usually.

  “See? Perfectly fine. Now drink.”

  I licked my lips, impossibly tempted. But who knew what he would do to me if I agreed? All these kind gestures– the bandaged wounds, the blankets, the flask– they all had to come with a price. No marauder acted with courtesy. Not unless they were trying to persuade their victim into doing something, and were too lazy to beat submission into them.

  I closed my eyes and waited for my head to stop churning.

  I opened my eyes again when I sensed Sawyer kneel down in front of me. He cautiously put his hand on my shoulder to steady me. His hand was carefully distanced from the wound where the Hellion’s needle had sliced me. I stared at the bandage and his hand, still trying to comprehend everything around me. I could see it all, but the information seemed to be registering a few seconds too late.

  Sawyer waved the flask in my face. “The water comes for free. No strings attached.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “And everything else?” Speaking with such a hoarse voice hurt my throat.

  He grinned. “One thing at a time.” He nudged the flask closer. “Come on. It’ll dilute the rest of the drug. You’ll feel better.”

  I hesitated, hating that I was forced to bend to his offer, but not having any choice. My body demanded water. It had been hours since I’d had any kind of liquid. My throat was parched.

  I twisted to take the flask, wincing at the angry bruises throbbing in my side. I took a slow drink from the flask. The moment the cool water touched my tongue, I became ravenous. Nothing had ever tasted so good. I tilted my head back and guzzled the rest. I didn’t stop to breathe until I finished every last drop. I dropped the flask and let the water work its way through my body. The fog in my head began to drift away. When I blinked, everything was clearer. I was still sore from the pounding I’d taken earlier, but other than being hungry, I felt fine. I looked ahead, starting to take in my surroundings.

  This new area was cavernous and nearly pitch black, lit by dozens of kerosene lanterns. A generator hummed steadily on the left wall, filling the hangar with meager warmth. Supplies were dumped around the walls. I could see small boxes of clothes, smaller boxes of fo
od, metal basins possibly filled with water, and a long worktable covered with weapons.

  Instinct told me I wasn’t underground. The air was musty, but smelled clean. I looked at Sawyer, whose hand hadn’t left my shoulder. I glared at it until he pulled it back.

  “Where am I?”

  “Hidden. Safe.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I think that’s a relative term, coming from a pirate.”

  Sawyer frowned, but there was a strange sparkle in his tawny eyes. “We took you off the street. Healed your wounds. Gave you water. Will give you food. That doesn’t earn a little bit of gratefulness?”

  “Fine. I’m grateful.” I winced at how rude that sounded, and toned down my attitude. “Really. But why don’t you tell me what you want? Garnet won’t trade anything for me. If you know anything about him, you have to know that.” And I’m not going back. He’ll kill me, and I need to save Abby.

  The hot knife of failure slid into my heart again, and I had to look away from Sawyer so he wouldn’t see my tears. He watched me silently, then said, “Fair enough.”

  Sawyer got to his feet and held out his hand. I stared at it, then got to my feet on my own. Even though he’d just shown me kindness, I didn’t trust him. He kidnapped me and wanted to use me for something. Sawyer frowned, then shook his head and started walking. He didn’t slow down or wait for me to catch up.

  As we walked, I kept looking for ways to escape. This space was huge, but Westraven was a city of foundries and manufacturing plants. I could have been anywhere. When I didn’t see an exit, I turned around and finally saw what he was bringing me toward.

  Gemma and Nash were standing together in a far corner of the expansive room, looking up at a structure I hadn’t seen in my drug-induced haze. A shape I shouldn’t have been able to miss.

  An airship.

  Compared to the Behemoth, this ship wasn’t very big, but the three-masted barque still took up the entire back half of the corner. Constructed of taupe colored iron with bolts holding the siding together and with three thick masts stripped of sails, the ship was easily two hundred feet wide and nearly as tall. The paint was beginning to chip, showing the rusting metal beneath. Pieces of newer scrap metal were bolted to the side, patching up old holes and covering damage. Two rows of cannons were spread along the hull, their barrels likely as dusted as the cabin windows near the stern. Below the cabins was a faded gold script that read Dauntless Wanderer.

  The name struck a chord in my memory. As a child, I remembered that the infamous Robertson Kendric had led the Clan of marauders known as the Wanderers. My heartbeat sped up, and I wondered if Sawyer and his crewmates were connected to the Wanderers.

  But I knew that was impossible. The Wanderers had all died when Kendric did, and there was no way Kendric would have let Sawyer, Nash, and Gemma on his ship as children.

  Pushing the thoughts from my mind, I looked at the damage on the hull.

  Right along the row of starboard guns was a massive puncture, so wide I could see the interior of the ship from where I stood on the ground. A series of cannon shots had likely been what tore through fifteen feet of the ship’s metal side. It wouldn’t have been such a devastating shot, if it hadn’t struck the central power core of the Dauntless. All airships were powered by electricity and generators, very few relied on both electricity and fuel like the Behemoth did. One shot at the right place would take the entire airship out of commission, and cause a devastating crash if the engineer couldn’t fix it in time.

  The Dauntless hadn’t been very lucky.

  Pulling my eyes away from the damage, I looked at the ship again. Even without the gaping hole in the hull, the Dauntless Wanderer was disappointing.

  And yet... There was something about it. A potential. I could look past the grime and dents and tattered sails and see the sleek beauty of the ship. It could be strong and fast again, if the time and effort was put in. If the scrap metal was any indication, there already had been.

  I looked at Sawyer, who was completely fixated on the ship. I was only seeing his profile, but there was no mistaking the love and longing on his face. He must have spent a good portion of his childhood on an airship. Maybe he was the son of a trader or merchant. Was he remembering the wind on his face as he sailed through the clouds? Or the excitement of pursuing or escaping another vessel?

  Whatever Sawyer was thinking, he forgot it when he looked at me again.

  “Suppose you can see the problem.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Let me guess. You’re talking about the clearly visible gash in the middle of your ship? Don’t know how I can miss it.”

  Sawyer glared. “I want you to fix it.”

  If the damage were on the power core, as I suspected it was, making another one wouldn’t be hard. I’d created and repaired hundreds of them, coming up with ways to make them even more efficient. No matter what the damage was, I could create another one in a single day.

  I still said, “No.”

  Sawyer’s expression pinched. I didn’t back down.

  “I’m not doing anything for you unless you help me save my sister.”

  The marauder turned to face me directly, moving closer until he was just inches away from me. I could have backed away, but I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid of him. Not after everything that had happened.

  “It’s impossible,” he stressed. “No one has ever gotten close to the Behemoth since it took over Westraven. No one has tried. They’re always watching. Waiting. You can’t even get past the barricades.”

  Hearing him say that brought another memory to my head.

  “What about the Forest Brigade?”

  Sawyer groaned and closed his eyes. I took a step closer.

  “They’re Sky Guards who made it past the barricades. They’re living in Sage Grove, probably surviving in the forest–”

  “And you know that how? Did you see them fly over the twenty foot walls? Do you think they managed to survive the raids that were probably sent after them?”

  “Probably,” I pointed out. “We don’t know what happened to the Brigade.”

  “Because nothing happened. They died, and that’s that.”

  “Oh, so you saw it?” I shot.

  A twitch in Sawyer’s jaw. “Doesn’t matter what I saw or didn’t see. This Forest Brigade doesn’t exist, because nothing gets past the Behemoth’s eye. And besides, you’re not talking about getting over the barricades. You’re talking about getting through the Behemoth’s defenses. It’s not the same thing. The hull can’t be breached.”

  “I beg to differ. Every ship has a weakness. The Behemoth got the jump on us when they attacked in The Storm, yes, but it still took a bit of a beating when the Sky Guards fought them. I refuse to believe their exterior is impenetrable. The only reason we believe it now is because there are no ships willing to test its mettle again.”

  Sawyer’s eyes flared with sharp light. He was done with my reasoning. “I’ve been kind to you,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “Patient. I haven’t hurt you. I’m making you a simple offer. Fix my ship.”

  “And what are you going to do if I don’t? Kill me? Go ahead. Your ship will still be broken.”

  A muscle twitched in his jaw again and he clenched his fists, but he didn’t hit me. Sawyer had one up on Garnet already.

  “I’m not someone you want to push, girl,” he warned.

  “So you’re suggesting you’d torture me into fixing your ship? Let me tell you something, pirate. There is nothing you can threaten me with. Nothing you can do to me that Garnet hasn’t already done.”