Melissa la Cruz - Frozen

The bald slaver was known as the Ear, Wes remembered now. Called that because he was missing his right one. His ship was the Van Gogh. “This is all we got?” he asked, looking contemptuously at Wes’s scraggly crew.

“Looks like.” Avo nodded. “The boys checked it out. A lifeboat’s gone, but that’s all. They lost a couple along the way, Wesson said.”

The Ear spat on the deck. It was clear he didn’t think much of the ship. Wes noticed burn marks on his jacket and wondered whether the slaver had taken them from his earlier fight with Avo.

“Toss for it?” Avo asked, throwing a silver coin in the air.

“Heads,” the Ear called.

“Tails,” Avo showed him the back of the coin. He smiled and pointed right at Nat. “That one.”

“No! Don’t hurt her!” Wes yelled. “Avo, I swear to god if you—”

“Wait—wait—” Nat said, as Avo removed a blade from his back pocket and walked toward her. She cringed from his touch.

“Relax . . . ,” the slaver said, pulling up her sleeve. He marked the skin on her hand with a crooked S.

Wes struggled against the men holding him. “I need to warn you . . . she’s marked!”

The slaver grinned. “Exactly. Marked but still healthy. Which is why I want her—she’ll fetch a higher price at the markets. Vardick, take her to the Titan. ” He nodded to one of the mercenaries, who grabbed Nat by her cut hand.

“Wes—!” she cried.

“Nat! Don’t fight them—don’t—”

But Nat kicked at Vardick, and in turn he knocked her on the side of her head with the butt of his rifle, and she went down hard on the deck.

“Don’t mess up her face,” Avo said, annoyed. “They don’t like when they’re too beat-up looking.”

Wes broke away from the grip of the pirates holding him and spun around, burying his fist in the nearest slaver’s gut, breaking his ribs and sending him to the ground. The slavers had a lot of brute force, but none of them really knew how to fight. The man was twice Wes’s size, but he’d hardly had a chance to move before Wes struck him. His military training proved handy in moments like this, and right now, with slavers on all sides, he’d take on the whole crew if he had to.

“Enough of that,” Avo said, languidly raising his pistol. “Or I’ll make you watch what they do to her.”

Wes froze and surrendered. The pirate he’d defeated kicked him in the back and he fell to the deck.

“Next,” the Ear said, “I’ll take Vibrate over here.”

Liannan shot Shakes a worried glance as the Ear’s men took him to their side. Shakes didn’t make a sound as they nicked his ear with a cut. Blood dripped from the wound.

Avo studied the rest of the group. “I’ll take the sylph,” he said finally. “Maybe Jolly’ll want her for his collection.”

Liannan kept her hands behind her back. She didn’t want to carry their brand. But it was useless, as a pair of Avo’s men tag-teamed her, forced her hand open, and carved it.

“The smallkind.” The Ear pointed. “I’ll take them both, two for the price of one, eh?”

Like Shakes, Roark and Brendon did not cry or scream when their ears were cut. Wes was proud of his crew. He only hoped he had an idea to get them out of this. He hadn’t lied to Nat, but the situation looked more dire than he’d thought. He had counted on all of them being on the same ship. But now that they were being split between two . . . it would be harder to rescue them all.

“What are you doing with the little ones?” Avo asked, curious.

“Outlaw territories—circus will pay a lot for ’em.”

“I’ll take Wesson here,” Avo said languidly.

Wes kept a smile on his face as the pirate slashed his hand. “You’ll regret this, Slob. I promise you. Remember that. Warn Jolly, too. I’ll come for him when I come for you.”

They were brave, empty words, he knew, but he hoped it would give his people courage. And he was glad that at the very least Nat was with him.

“Vincent!” Liannan screamed, as the two groups were dragged to their respective ships.

But Shakes didn’t even look up. He had already given up, Wes thought, and maybe so should he.

THE BACK END OF THE TITAN served as a village for the captives, with cargo containers arranged in a horseshoe along the perimeter of the deck. The containers were mounted so that half of the box was sitting on the deck and other half was hanging over the water. The arrangement allowed for more space on the deck, but Wes guessed the scavengers weren’t after efficiency. Left to hang in the cold ocean air, the cages would be doubly cold and any attempt at escape would likely land you in the black waters.

The only way in or out was through a heavy iron door locked by a bolt as big around as Wes’s arm. There was a jagged hole in the middle of it, enough to let in some light. A gray-skinned scavenger pressed the point of his blade to Wes’s back as he pointed to a cage’s open door, and Wes walked in, Nat right behind. Through holes in the steel floor, they could see the dark ocean waters rushing below them. The loud rush of moving water echoed inside the box, making the two of them shiver. The cage felt ten degrees cooler than the ship’s deck.

Hanging above the water, there was nothing to insulate them from the freezing ocean.

Wes smelled ripe fruit and nuts, and for a moment he forgot the cold as he looked around for food. But the cargo box was empty. He wondered whether there was something outside their door, but he saw nothing. He thought for a second that the cold was starting to play tricks on his mind. He panicked, then realized what he was smelling. In faded orange letters he caught sight of the NU-Foods logo on one of the walls. The company specialized in “New Foods for You”—food that didn’t require refrigeration or cooking. You simply stored them in a cupboard and used them as needed. The foods were guaranteed fresh and bacteria-free for decades. Stock up for a century! —or something like that. He’d forgotten the tagline. Immortal food. The smell of NU-Foods remained strong. The smell would be here when the world ended. It was the cockroach of foods—indestructible even in its grossness.

Wes laughed and so did Nat. They were about to starve, smelling nothing but processed food products.

Her smile faded quickly. He could tell she had something on her mind. “Is it true? What the Slob said?” Nat asked. “About the job?”

Wes sighed. “Yeah. It’s true. I was offered the same job he’s doing.” He told Nat about the mission he’d turned down. This isn’t work, it’s murder, he’d told Bradley. “The RSA uses slavers to kill or torture its own citizens. They didn’t care what I did with the pilgrims—as long as I made them disappear. If the Blue is real, they don’t want anyone else finding it.”

“You must have quite a reputation,” Nat said thoughtfully.

“Yeah, well, I turned them down, didn’t I? This is all my fault; I shouldn’t have let you leave New Vegas.”

“It was my choice,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“It is exactly my fault, but I’m hoping Avo will listen to me. We have history together. He’ll hear me out, at least. He’s had his fun and his revenge; he’s won already. I’m in a cage.”

“You and Avo—you have the same scar on your right eyebrow. But you said Shakes hit you with a pickax. That it was an accident.”

Wes grimaced, looking uncomfortable. “I’ll tell you sometime.”

“He was in the service with you, wasn’t he? Avo Hubik. They said he’s from New Thrace, but he can’t be, he doesn’t have an accent. I wondered about that when I won Alby. By the way, I always thought ‘ Alby ’ was short for ALB-187, but Avo called it the Albatross. ”