Ann Aguirre - Havoc

Ahead of her, she saw ichor trickling down Brahm’s back. Does cracked chitin heal? She figured it might seal over time because it probably renewed itself somehow, but she had no scientific information to back up the theory. No medicine to help him, either. If the wound got infected, she might have to put him down. Triage was her least favorite part of leading Queensland, worse even than living up to the impossible standards Tam had set for the Dread Queen. It was hard as hell to look into a man’s eyes, then end his life and call it kindness.

They didn’t stop running until they hit the barricades. A few times, she felt like she was being watched, but nobody attacked. That made Dred think it was Silence’s people like rats in the walls, spying and spinning schemes. But she didn’t have time to worry about that when the mercs would be out for blood, and Mungo’s men were still trying to breach the perimeter in the hope of winning the promised pardons.

They’re so stupid it hurts.

Dred blew toward the turrets at a run, and her mag bracelet kept her safe. She turned off the defenses long enough for everyone to pass, then she powered them back up. It was sobering—and awful—that they didn’t have to deconstruct the junk pile for Ali. That would never happen again. This is what it’s like to be hunted. Back on Tehrann, she’d known men who liked to go out and shoot things for sport. While she’d disapproved in principle, she’d never considered how the animals must feel—one minute living their lives and the next interrupted by a danger they had no hope of surviving.

But I can’t give up.

To make matters worse, Keelah and Katur were waiting when they came out in the common room. Queenslanders roared in approval of the new gear, but the alien leaders searched the group, then Katur stepped forward. “What went wrong?”

“She saved me,” Brahm said, lowering his head.

“Ah.” Keelah raised him with a hand on his mandible. “Then she died as well as anyone can in this place. I’ll inform the others and arrange for her service.”

When Jael awoke, he was strapped to a chair.

The last thing he remembered was drinking with the aliens in their private dorm, a quiet farewell to Ali, whose body had been gone when they backtracked to retrieve it. He didn’t want to say so, but the chances were good that she had been taken—as food. The mercs would have no use for a Rodeisian corpse, and Silence’s killers only revered the death they caused personally. Which left Mungo’s roving monstrosities.

He couldn’t see anything because there was a cloth wrapped around his eyes, thick enough that he glimpsed nothing but darkness. Listening provided slightly more information; the noises were familiar enough that he must still be somewhere in Queensland. The pain at the back of his head told him he must’ve been jumped; they must’ve cracked his skull to knock him out. He’d been taken prisoner before, tortured extensively. On a few occasions, he’d been so close to death that it probably counted.

It just never sticks.

His heart raced as he tried to figure out who would’ve done this. And why. It could be someone with a grudge against Dred or some asshole who didn’t like Jael. Mary knew, he didn’t have the knack of winning people over with his endearing personality, and he’d played enforcer in the common room more than once. Soft footsteps approached, too light for it to be a big person. Inhaling, Jael drew in a familiar smell; he just had to place it.

Then he knew. And he wasn’t reassured at all.

“He’s waking up. I think he recognizes your scent.” That came from Zediah.

“I thought you were wrong,” she said softly. “I thought he just liked the garden.”

“I know when a man wants you.”

No, you really don’t. Psycho. Jael reckoned Zed had killed a lot of fellows who were completely indifferent to Vix, but Zediah’s reality didn’t allow for that being possible. In his eyes, somehow, she was an irresistible temptress. At that point, he would’ve spoken up in his own defense, except for the strips of leather wound around his head. Jael bit down, working on chewing through them. In time he’d manage it, but there was no telling what they’d do in the meantime. Trying to be surreptitious, he struggled against his bonds, but they were good and tight, more leather reinforced with durasteel.

“I don’t want you to hurt him.” Vix sounded unsure, however.

“Why not?” Jael heard a world of warning in that tone.

Don’t say you like me again. Don’t.

But since Tam had given him an inkling of how this game played out, Jael had a feeling about what came next.

“He’s always been so kind to me. I’m fond of him.”

We’ve hardly spoken.

“How fond?” Zed’s voice grew husky. “I could let you have him. Once. Then—”

“I know. He has to die, or he might come between us.”

Yeah. This is why people give them such a wide berth. How long have they been quietly continuing their murder spree inside? Vix had said that Zed used to kill the men who paid her too much attention openly; did this mean they’d simply continued in secret? He was surprised at the cunning and intricacy of this game. It was also galling to be captured by this pair. Since they didn’t seem as dangerous as the others, he’d judged them superficially.

A costly mistake.

“Let’s ask him what he prefers,” Zed murmured. “A quick death after one night with you, or a slow one as punishment for refusing you.”

Shit choice. I’ll take option C.

The blindfold came off, then the gag. Jael spat to clear the sticky, dry feel of leather cleaving to his tongue. Vix regarded him with what looked like genuine concern, and he wondered why he hadn’t noticed how absolutely mad she was before. He had picked up the complete lack of . . . anything in Zediah, but Jael wasn’t used to considering himself vulnerable since he could shake off injuries, plus he was strong and fast. Since halving his abilities with Dred, he was constantly overestimating his own strength.

That has to stop.

“You may have played this game before,” he said, “but Dred will ask questions.”

Zed seemed unmoved by the potential risks. “She’ll receive no answers. This is a dark hole, and people disappear all the time.”

“Don’t you think I’m pretty?” Vix asked.

“Zed will pull my tongue out, no matter what I say.”

The younger man smiled. “You’re smarter than the ones we usually play with. So which is it to be?”

“Neither. You unfasten me, and I’ll let this go as a misunderstanding.”

“But it isn’t one. You came to us in the garden. There’s no other reason you’d have done that if you didn’t want to play. Everyone else steers clear . . . and I saw the way your eyes followed her.”

Jael was fragging hamstrung because any repudiation of Vix controverted Zed’s reality, where she was the sun, the center of everything, and the most desirable woman in the world. But he had to try since straining against the bonds wasn’t working. It’d be nice if Dred was looking for me about now. He had no idea where they were in the cycle, if this was during downtime, or how long he’d been missing.

“You know how you feel about Vix?” he said, instead of a straight answer.

Zed nodded.

“That’s how I feel about the Dread Queen. I realize you think I was panting after Vix. And I would be, if I wasn’t already on someone else’s hook.”

Let that be just crazy enough to make sense.

The two exchanged a look, but Jael couldn’t interpret it. Then Vix said, “There’s only one way to test it.”