Sarah Gilman: Deep in Crimson

“Son of Satan,” the priest cried, and the mob behind him roared.

Rico rolled his eyes. “We’re not actually related.”

A second man stepped forward, dragging a girl with him, and the priest grabbed her hair, tugged back her head. In the flickering light, Rico saw the puncture wounds in her ivory neck and had a flashback to the sweet taste of her blood.

“I have been ordained by God,” the priest said, “for the punishment of the wicked and the eradication of evil.”

“Get a life,” Rico muttered. “Look, it’s honestly no big deal—the marks will heal in a couple of days. You won’t even know I was here.”

His words didn’t seem to impress them. Of course, the Church was rarely impressed unless they were slaughtering innocents, and Rico was the first to admit he hadn’t qualified as an innocent in numerous lifetimes. If ever.

Five men stepped forward, and Rico watched them warily. They raised their bows, cocked their wooden arrows. Drew them taut and aimed them straight at his heart.

Rico glanced over his shoulder at the icy water below. He was going to have to jump. “Shit.”

He tensed himself, ready to dive over the edge, just as the sky filled with noise and light. His gaze shot upward. He released his breath. The shuttle hovered above them, and a laser beam shot out, cutting the ground between him and the archers. A voice boomed from the open hatch.

“Lower your weapons.”

But they were already edging backward. The shuttle flew lower, almost touching the ground, and Rico lunged for the open hatchway. “About bloody time.”

The mob was almost back in the trees now, but at the last moment, the girl pulled free and raced toward the shuttle. She stared up at them, imploring. “Take me with you, Rico.”

He looked at Tannis, raised an eyebrow.

“No freaking way.” She reached across and slammed her palm to the door panel.

Rico had a last brief glimpse of the girl. He hoped she’d be okay, that her people would treat her as a victim, though she’d hardly been reluctant.

“What took you so long?” he growled as the hatch slid shut behind him and the shuttle sped away from the planet.

Tannis swiveled her chair to face him. She ran a hand through her short, dark hair and raised one brow in accusation. “Been eating the natives, Rico?”

“ Dios , I go out for a snack and all I get is hassle. I’ve got to eat.”

He hobbled across and sank into the seat next to her, rubbing his leg and tossing Tannis a wounded look. His ship’s captain was no Florence Nightingale, but dammit, his leg hurt. “They shot me.”

“Aw, poor baby.” She uncoiled her lean body from the chair and came to stand over him, her cold, yellow eyes looking him over. Reaching down, she tore open his pants leg. The bleeding had already stopped, the wound healing over. “You’ll live.”

He frowned. “So what kept you?”

“While you were down there playing, I got us a job.”

“Legit?”

“Shit, no.”

His mood lightened. “Dangerous?”

“For this sort of money, it’s probably going to kill us.”

He grinned. “Sounds like my sort of job.”