Deception (Dark Desires Origins)

by Nina Croft

  Useful, but not the comm unit.

  She turned to the second console, held her breath as she placed her palm on the panel. At first it seemed like nothing had happened. Then lines formed on the console. Two button shapes and some sort of dial. She ran her fingers over it. Nothing. She tapped one of the buttons and heard a faint continuous crackle.

  Next, she pressed the dial. No change. She sat back and studied the shape, then moved her fingers in a circular motion. The crackling got louder, and her heart rate sped up. She turned some more, and it got fainter. She frowned. Then experimented with different movements. Swirling, stabbing, zigzagging. At one point she lost the static completely. After a few minutes of experimenting, she surmised that tapping the button moved between big areas of frequencies. The dial then narrowed it down. She tapped until she got a crackle, then rotated her finger slowly around the dial.

  Finally, at last the crackle morphed into words.

  “Yes, sir. We’re leaving now. We’ll maintain a perimeter but let them through if they approach. The shuttle is set to blow.”

  “Good. Report in if there’s any change.”

  She sat, staring at the console. The shuttle was set to blow? Could it be a different shuttle? Maybe. But she couldn’t take that chance.

  How long had they been gone? Over an hour.

  She needed to warn them.

  Her gaze settled on the pile of grenades Milo had pinched from the weapons room. She shoved a couple into her pockets and then she was off and running.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “That is a dream also; only he has remained asleep, while you have awakened; and who knows which of you is the most fortunate?”

  —Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

  “I think they’ve gone,” Dylan said.

  They were standing in the cover of a small cluster of trees about half a mile from the shuttle. They’d been watching for an hour now, and as far as he could see, whoever had been guarding it was gone. In fact, he hadn’t seen anyone move the whole time. No work crews. No one coming or going from the Trakis Four, which loomed close to the shuttle. The lack of movement was unnatural. Milo didn’t like it. “But why?”

  Dylan shrugged. “Maybe they got bored. Or changed their minds or… Who the hell knows? Let’s just get what we need and get out of here before they decide to come back.”

  Milo thought for a moment, but the truth was, there was no more risk than if there had been a guard set. Less. There had always been the chance that Dylan’s diversion wouldn’t have worked. Or not totally. And he’d been prepared to take out any guards who were left. This was better. Though there could be someone left inside, but he’d deal with them if he had to. “We probably don’t need the diversion. Better not to risk it. You stay here.”

  Dylan nodded, his gaze still on the shuttle.

  Milo pulled his wand from his belt and cast the cloaking spell.

  “Impressive,” Dylan said.

  He didn’t answer, just headed across the open space to the shuttle. He saw no one and nothing moved. If he listened carefully, he could hear some sort of banging in the distance from the direction of the new Church building, but nothing else.

  He hesitated outside the shuttle, listened, but could hear nothing from the inside. The door was shut, but when he pressed his palm to the panel, it slid open. He frowned. He’d been expecting this to be harder and the ease was niggling at him. He glanced around before he entered but could see nothing suspicious, and he stepped inside.

  …

  How was she supposed to find them? Destiny ran through the forest. At one point, the bracelet on her arm beeped and she dived for the cover of a fallen log, holding her breath until the drone disappeared.

  Then up and running again.

  Her heart was racing and her mouth dry.

  What if she couldn’t find them? What if she was too late? She couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to Milo. If she couldn’t find them, she’d stand in front of the shuttle and jump up and down. To hell with being caught. She had to save him.

  She was sobbing for breath by the time she came to the edge of the forest. She stopped for a moment.

  A stone landed beside her and she let out a squeak. Then searched the tree line, spotted Dylan peering out from behind the trunk of a tree, and sped over.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “Where is he?” she gasped. “Where’s Milo?”

  “In the shuttle—”

  “You need to get him out of there. Now.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “There’s no one there. He’s safe.”

  “He’s not safe. The shuttle is going to explode. He’s going to die. Get him out of there.”

  Shock flashed across his face, but he didn’t argue anymore, just raised his wrist to his face and spoke into the comm unit. “Milo, get the hell out of there now. The shuttle is set to blow.”

  She stared at the shuttle willing him to appear. The door was open, but nothing happened, and every muscle clenched up tight.

  “Where is he?”

  “Don’t worry, he’s—”

  Dylan’s words were cut off as the shuttle exploded into a ball of fire.

  “No!” The word was ripped from her throat and she ran forward.

  Dylan grabbed her by the arm, and she fought him, trying to break away, but he was amazingly strong.

  “Wait,” he said. “Look. He’s out.”

  The words didn’t make sense. He wasn’t out. She would have seen him. He was dead and a wail rose up inside her.

  “There,” Dylan said.

  She followed the direction of his pointed finger. About twenty feet from where the shuttle burned, a figure lay on the ground. She recognized Milo and her brain scrambled for an explanation.

  “Lazy bastard,” Dylan muttered. “Now is not the time to sleep. Come on. Get up.”

  Milo still didn’t move. Was he even alive? Had the force of the blast killed him? She wouldn’t believe it.

  Dylan sighed. “Let’s go get him and get the hell out of here.”

  As they ran forward, Destiny could feel the heat from the burning shuttle. Milo lay flat-out, face down, and she crouched down beside him. Reaching out with a trembling hand, she touched her finger to the warm skin of his throat, felt the slow steady throb of his pulse and almost collapsed with relief. “He’s alive.”

  “Of course he’s alive. It would take more than that to kill a…” He trailed off and gave a shrug, then hunkered down beside her and prodded Milo in the ribs.

  “Wake up,” he said, adding another prod but with zero response.

  Destiny stroked her hand over his cheek and through his hair. It was sticky with blood at the side. “He must have hit it when he…” When he what? Materialized out of nothing. He must have been blown out here by the force of the explosion. But why hadn’t she seen it? His mysterious cloaking device?

  They needed to carry him back. She looked around for something to help and caught movement at the edge of her vision. Men in dark green jumpsuits heading their way.

  “Dylan, we have a problem.”

  He glanced up and followed her gaze. “Bloody hell. Milo, wake the fuck up.” He shook Milo’s arm, but nothing happened. “Crap.”

  He got to his feet. Was he going to leave them? She wouldn’t be able to move Milo on her own. But Dylan reached down, clasped Milo by the upper arms and tossed him over his shoulder. “Grab the bag,” Dylan said.

  She snatched up the black duffel bag, which had been hidden under Milo’s body, and then they were running.

  Dylan moved incredibly fast, hardly slowed by the big man slung over his shoulder, but all the same, a quick glance over her shoulder and she could tell they weren’t losing their pursuers.

  Something whizzed past her ear and she flinche
d. They were shooting at them. Luckily, the shot went wide. Then at last they were in the forest, the going slower as they weaved between the tree trunks. They just had to make it to the tunnels, and they’d be hidden. Unless their pursuers were close enough to see them when they entered. They needed to get some distance.

  More bullets whizzed past and, up ahead, Dylan stumbled and almost crashed to the ground. He swore and righted himself and was running again, but she could see that he was in trouble. He must have taken a bullet in the leg. Could he make it? He’d have to. But she had to think of a way to give him more time.

  Suddenly she remembered the grenades. Skidding to a halt, she pressed her back against a tree trunk. Up ahead, Dylan glanced back over his shoulder, he slowed, and she waved a hand urging him to go on. Then raised the other so he could see the grenade she held. For a moment, he held her gaze, then he nodded and stumbled on.

  Destiny stood, back against the tree trunk, slowing her breathing. She peered around; she could see the flash of green through the vegetation; they weren’t far behind now.

  I can do this.

  She didn’t want to kill anyone, but they’d been shooting. What choice did she have? Taking a deep breath, she pulled the pin from the grenade and counted to three, then she turned, stepped out from behind the tree and hurled it into the group of men. Ducking back behind the tree, she put her hands over her ears.

  She heard the muted roar of the explosion, and the men crash and blunder. She took a second grenade from her pocket and pulled the pin, counted to three and then tossed it after the first.

  Then she was running again, pelting headlong toward the tunnel. Dylan and Milo must have reached safety by now. She just had to get there as well. She was going to make it. She couldn’t hear anything behind her. Yet.

  She stopped abruptly. The two men were sprawled on the ground feet from the entrance. She moved closer. Milo was still unconscious, his eyes closed, his face pale. Dylan looked no better, though when she touched him, he groaned. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his leg collapsed beneath him. He stared up at her with golden eyes that gleamed feral in a face that was blurring.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, this is going to come as something of a shock.”

  The air around her rippled with something strange, and then Dylan was gone, and a huge shaggy dog lay in front of her. Her mouth dropped open as it pushed itself to its feet, staggered, then straightened and gave a growl and a shake. He looked at her and then at Milo, took his shirt in his teeth and pulled. Then let go and growled.

  She shook her head, trying to get her mind to work. The bracelet on her arm was beeping and flashing. Drones were coming.

  She hooked her hands beneath Milo’s arms and dragged him, inch by inch to the tunnel entrance.

  She could hear the whir of the drone now. Heading in their direction and she sobbed with the effort. He was so big and heavy, but she was nearly there.

  The dog disappeared inside the tunnel and at last she was there. One last heave and they were both inside. She collapsed to the floor and then crawled closer to the entrance so she could peer outside.

  A drone was weaving between the trees, low down, zigzagging the area. Could it find them?

  Dylan, the dog lay just behind her, licking at the wound on his leg. He raised his head and stared at her, then gave a nod and continued his licking. She’d think about that later.

  As the last of her strength seeped away, she sighed and dragged herself backward to sit, leaning against the rock wall, her legs stretched out. She closed her eyes. She’d never felt so terrified in her life.

  Milo’s bag was still slung over her shoulder, and she pulled it around and peered inside. No comm unit. There were a couple of bottles of whiskey, though—nice to see he’d gotten his priorities sorted.

  She pulled a bottle from the bag, unscrewed the top, and took a deep swallow. Behind her, the dog growled. She glanced across; he was staring at the bottle, tongue hanging out.

  “Not for dogs,” she muttered, hugging the bottle to her chest.

  He growled again. She ignored him and took another swallow, closed her eyes, and felt the warmth spread through her.

  Opening her eyes, she peered out the entrance. Nothing moved. Had they lost them? Or had she actually killed them all with her grenades? She tried to feel guilty. But they’d shot first. Whatever. There was no movement in the forest and darkness was falling. Another swallow. Her head swam. It felt good.

  Beside her, Milo stirred at last. He blinked open his eyes; they glowed crimson.

  What?

  But she couldn’t get worked up. At least he was still human and not a dog.

  Then he blinked and his eyes were back to normal. “What the hell happened?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Great is the truth, fire cannot burn, nor water can drown it!”

  —Alexandre Dumas, The Count of Monte Cristo

  She didn’t answer, and Milo shifted a little, then groaned.

  He felt like he had been hit over the head with a big, solid object. He tried to sit up, but it hurt too much, and he collapsed back and just twisted his head to the side.

  They were back in the tunnels. How the hell had that happened? Destiny was beside him, slumped against the wall, cradling a bottle of whiskey. She appeared undamaged, if a little dazed. Beyond her, lay a big black wolf. It regarded him out of golden eyes. Dylan had shifted. That wasn’t good.

  Then again, Destiny wasn’t screaming.

  He tried to remember back. He’d grabbed some clothes and other personal stuff and a couple of bottles of whiskey, and he’d been about to start work dismantling the comm unit when Dylan had commed him. He’d made a dash for the door and had been halfway down the ramp when the shuttle exploded. It had hurled him out into the air and after that—nothing.

  “Destiny?”

  She jumped a little. “Sorry, I was just…” She drank some more whiskey. There was a slightly glazed look in her eyes, but then the bottle was half empty, so it was hardly surprising.

  “What happened?” he asked.

  “I got the comm unit working in the spaceship. I thought if I got it working, then you wouldn’t need to go to the shuttle and put yourself in danger. Then I picked up this comm and it said they had set the shuttle to explode. And so I had to go and warn you. Except I was too late.”

  “Not too late. I still seem to be here.”

  She sniffed. “I thought you were dead. You wouldn’t wake up. And then the guards came, and Dylan had to carry you and then they shot him. And he changed into a dog. Again. It was him the other night; I know that now.” She looked at him out of enormous blue eyes. “He’s a weredog, isn’t he?”

  On the other side of her the “weredog” snarled and Milo had to bite back a laugh. “Yeah, he’s a weredog.” The snarl turned to a full-on growl. Milo ignored it. “Go on.”

  “You were still unconscious, and they were still following us, and I had to stop them so I threw a grenade and I think I might have killed them all.”

  “Good job.”

  A shudder ran through her. “I’ve never killed anyone before.”

  He couldn’t even remember the first person he’d killed. Well, not on purpose anyway. The first person he had killed was the priest who’d been trying to burn him at the stake—burn the devil out of him. But that had been an accident. He hadn’t been in control of his powers at that point. In fact, he hadn’t even known they existed. The man had spontaneously combusted. Along with half his congregation, including the woman Milo had loved.

  “You did what you had to do,” he said. “They were bad men.”

  She cast him a look that said she wasn’t entirely sure of that argument, but then shrugged. “Then a drone came, and I had to drag you into the tunnels because Dylan had turned into a dog. And you’re heavy, and I thought I wasn’t going to make i
t and…” She sniffed, took a gulp of whiskey, and sniffed again.

  Milo tried to sit up again, and this time he managed to ignore the shooting pain in his head. He leaned back against the wall and sighed, then held out his hand. She placed the bottle in it and he took a long pull.

  Dylan growled again and Milo grinned, raised the bottle to the wolf, and drank.

  They’d tried to kill him. There had been no warning. A few seconds later and he would have been at the center of the blast. Of course it might not have actually killed him—he was pretty much impervious to fire as his friend the priest had discovered. But the explosion would likely have blown him into little pieces if he’d been in the enclosed space of the shuttle, and that would have been very messy. He took another drink and realized he was glad to be alive.

  He cast a sideways glace at Destiny. She looked drained and exhausted and probably half-drunk as well. It sounded like she had saved his life.

  “Thank you,” he murmured.

  “I didn’t want you to die.”

  He shifted closer and wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulled her close, and shut his eyes. “I didn’t want to die, either.” She rested her head on his shoulder and he felt the tension drain from her. Then she sat up straight and he opened his eyes reluctantly. “What?”

  “You can’t change into a dog as well, can you?”

  He snorted. “No. Only one dog here.”

  The weredog in question rose to his feet, shook his body, then cast them a dirty look. He peered around, then crossed to where Milo’s bag lay on the floor, grabbed it in his teeth, and stalked into the tunnels. Milo chuckled and pulled Destiny closer again. Soon he would have to get up and think about what to do next. They needed to contact Rico. Could Destiny really work the comm unit on the spaceship? And could it be made to reach out as far as the Trakis Two? It was worth a try. If not, they were going to have to steal something from one of the other ships. Or from Camelot. Kinross was clearly communicating with the other planets.