Mindee Arnett - Avalon

But in the end, choice didn’t matter.

When a ship finally arrived a half hour later, it wasn’t an ITA ship at all.

It was one of Hammer’s.

THE FIRST PUNCH STRUCK HIM IN THE GUT, JUST BELOW the rib cage. The second landed higher. Jeth felt the rib snap in a bright burst of pain that radiated outward like a bomb. He tried to hunch over to lessen the agony, but firm hands on his arms held him upright and in place.

Sergei Castile grinned at Jeth, pleasure making his broad face glow.

“Isn’t this a little beneath you?” Jeth said between shallows pants. “I didn’t think Hammer would use his general for something as mundane as a beating.”

The two Malleus Guards holding Jeth in place tightened their grip on his arms, fingers biting into his naked flesh. They’d stripped him down to just his pants the moment they’d forced him into this cell, just minutes after their arrival at Peltraz. To Jeth’s shock, he recognized one of the Guards as Trent Danforth, the smelly, oily man who had once run tech ops for the Shades. Jeth hadn’t seen him in a long time, not since he’d been caught betraying Hammer. Danforth was horribly changed—twice as big as he used to be and with all traces of his former personality gone. He was nothing but a shell wearing Danforth’s face.

Sergei’s fist collided with Jeth’s jaw. Starbursts shot across his vision.

“I volunteered especially for you,” Sergei said.

Jeth spat blood. “Glad to know I rank so high.”

Sergei adjusted the glove on his right hand, pulling the protective inner layer snug over his knuckles. The outer layer consisted of a material as hard and dense as metal.

Jeth eyed the glove, trying not to flinch. “Does it make you feel like a big man, beating up on someone who can’t fight back? Or maybe you just get off on it.”

Sergei’s answer landed against Jeth’s cheek and nose. Blood spurted from both nostrils and tears stung his eyes. A kick to the stomach followed next, obliterating any desire Jeth had to continue taunting.

Sergei rained down blow after blow, his fists as merciless as mallets and the Guards’ grip on his arms as unyielding as steel. Jeth tried to turn his thoughts inward to block out the pain. He refused to cry or beg or ask the questions burning in his mind. Where is my sister? What are you doing to my friends? More than once he lost consciousness, only to be revived again when the Guards dumped ice water over his head.

Delirious, Jeth wasn’t aware of when it finally ended.

He awoke sometime later, lying on the hard floor of the cell, his body damp from the puddle of bloodstained water beneath him. He forced his swollen eyes open and saw a pair of black boots so polished they glistened even in the dim overhead light of the cell. Only one man Jeth knew wore boots so clean and expensive. He craned his neck and saw Hammer Dafoe standing over him, hands on hips, his expression made of stone.

Jeth lowered his head, content to lie there as waves of agony rolled through him. He’d known trouble was coming when Hammer’s ship arrived for them instead of Renford’s, but he’d never imagined pain like this. The mind was incapable. It’ll pass soon, Jeth told himself. It had to. Either that or he would die, and even then it would still be over.

“Get him up,” Hammer said.

Jeth squeezed his eyes closed as rough hands grabbed his arms and hauled him up. Bare feet slipping in the muck, Jeth groaned from the effort of trying to gain his footing and support his own body weight.

Hammer grunted disdainfully. Jeth wanted to scream at him, but that would require expanding his lungs, and there was nothing he wanted to do less at the moment.

“Set him down over there,” Hammer said. “Doesn’t look like he’s man enough to stand on his own.”

The Guard dropped him onto a concrete bench in the back of the cell hard enough that his teeth clanked together. With a massive effort, Jeth managed to stay in an upright position, his back propped against the wall.

“Leave us alone,” Hammer said, and the Guards left without a word.

Jeth leaned his head back and gave Hammer the fiercest glare he could muster, a difficult feat with the swelling around both his eyes. “Where’s my crew?”

“Not far from here.”

Jeth swallowed. “If you hurt—” He broke off, unable even to voice the possibility of such a thing and wary of more pain. “Where’s Lizzie?” He knew the question was pointless, but his worry for her consumed rational thought. He’d already lost Avalon and Milton. He couldn’t lose her, too.

“Your sister is fine. For the moment. And I must say, I was surprised to see how attractive a young woman she’s become. It’s been a while since I’ve really looked at her.”

Hot anger surged through Jeth at Hammer’s insinuation. It burned the hurt right out of him, and Jeth leaped up, prepared to rip the man’s throat out with his bare hands. It was foolish, stupid, but desperation spurred him on. Hammer’s punch landed first, and in Jeth’s weakened state, he crumpled beneath it. He hit the ground hard enough that all the air whooshed out of his lungs. He gasped, each breath a knife in his side.

Hammer yanked Jeth up and dropped him on the bench. “Try that again and I will have my men break your kneecaps. Understand?”

Jeth nodded, trying to think clearly through the haze of pain.

“Now, why don’t you tell me the truth about what happened in the Belgrave?”

Jeth struggled to remember the story that he and the others had agreed on in those few short minutes they’d had before Hammer’s men had brought them on board the starship. It seemed forever ago. No one had asked them a single thing during the entire trip back to Peltraz.

“And don’t bother repeating that cock and bull about being innocent victims just trying to help the survivors,” said Hammer. “I know it’s not true. Too many things don’t add up. My men tell me that not long before we picked you up you made a call to an unidentified contact using an encrypted calling card.” Hammer reached into his front pocket and withdrew Renford’s calling card. “This one. Now who could you have called? And why? Even more peculiar, why would the thieves who stole your ship bother sending a message saying where I could find you?”

Jeth blinked. “A message?”

“Oh, yes,” Hammer said. “It came from Avalon . Why would they go to such trouble?”

No idea . Jeth ran his tongue over his teeth, testing them for looseness. “Maybe it was Milton. He was still on the ship when they took it.”

“Perhaps,” Hammer said, returning the card to his pocket. “But I think it’s time to tell me the real story. Unless you want me to have Sergei extract it from your crew instead.”

Jeth closed his eyes as an image of Lizzie receiving the same kind of beating at Sergei’s hands made him shudder. He didn’t have any fight left in him, nor any strength left to spin a new story. “All right,” he said.

Then he told Hammer the truth about what happened, about finding the survivors, the metadrive failing, and Sierra’s offer of a solution. He even told him about Renford approaching them during the Montrose job.

Outrage seemed to sparkle in Hammer’s tiny black eyes as he listened. “Agent Renford of the ITA? Marcus Renford?”

Jeth nodded, wondering vaguely at Hammer’s recognition. “That’s who the calling card belongs to.”

“Ah,” said Hammer. “Well, go on.”

“That’s it,” Jeth said. “I told you everything.”

Hammer inclined his head. “What about the Aether Project? Did you ever actually see it?”

“No.”