Army of the Goddess: A Bona Dea Novel (Stormflies Book 2) by Elizabeth N. Love Read Free Book Online

and head to the shed. Hopefully there will be another on hand.”
    Replacing the cover, Kyle unlocked the wheels while Jon pulled down the bed ramp. Together, they shoved the machine up onto the truck bed. The suns were hitting the horizon by now, with the smaller ball of gas disappearing first, dimming the lavender magnitude of the sky to a tender violet.
    The colors of evening had always felt soothing to Jon, especially after a long day of laboring. He paused a moment to look west to the forest that gobbled up the suns. Two bright points of light emerged from the deepening darkness. Planets, but Jon didn't know which ones. It would be another forty-five minutes before complete darkness fell.
    With the machine secured in place, they climbed into the cab and started the engine with Kyle behind the wheel. He was more familiar with the layout of Bexan and would make a quick crossing to the storage barn on the northern boundary. The fenced-in area contained a wide array of equipment and vehicles for various projects, each maintained by the Equipment Coordinator staff.
    Despite the hour, three persons were on duty at the depot, accepting returns and repair work orders. They were winding down through, finishing off their ledgers.
    “What can we do for you, gentlemen?” asked the front clerk. “We're just about to close up.”
    “Sorry to keep you, Mr.…,” Kyle apologized courteously, prompting for a name.
    “I'm Colin,” the clerk responded.
    “Colin, our cement mixer has gone on the fritz. We'd like to make an exchange so we have it first thing tomorrow. We've already lost momentum.”
    “On the comm manufacturing site? That's quite the project. Let's take a look.” He followed them out to the dray.
    “We took a peek inside. The coil is frayed, so there must be a short.”
    “I see it. Let's get this one down. There we go. Come on back. We'll find another.” Colin led them back into the metal shed. “We should have at least two more in working order.”
    Rolling the contraption along the ground, Kyle and Jon followed the unnamed clerk into the bowels of the large warehouse. Tall metal units of grated shelves held a variety of smaller machines and appliances, from kitchen mixers to cement mixers, anything and everything that might be needed for a job around the large town.
    Jon felt uneasy and remained quiet while Kyle made the transaction. He didn't often get a clench his gut that made him feel like he needed to leave a place. Danger existed here—something hidden and barely registering as an interruption in his emanations. He found himself easing several steps back once they stopped pushed the mixer. His eyes darted about the claustrophobic passages. Logic attempted to override the primal sensation by convincing him that there was absolutely no reason to be afraid of these people or this place. But he couldn't shake it.
    “You okay, Jon?” Kyle paused to question. “You look anemic all of a sudden.”
    “Um… must have been the…heat today. Dehydration,” he offered, searching for a plausible explanation, something better than “something isn't right here,” an answer that would assuredly be shrugged off by these men.
    “Oh, let's get you some water then,” offered someone from the shadow of a rack loaded with hand tools. “Come with me. We'll take care of you.”
    Jon's feet wouldn't move. His mind screamed at him to flee.
    “Well, come along now. Don't just stand there.”
    “I'll wait until we get back to the hostel,” he refused. “I'll be fine.”
    “No need to torture yourself, Jon Irons. You're in good hands.”
    He should have run sooner.
    The figure in the shadows made an aggressive step toward him, hand outstretched like a claw.
    Falling back, Jon tripped over an unseen seam in the floor.
    The Colin and Kyle bore down on him, pinning one of his arms. Was Kyle infected? How long? What about his boys, if they were his at all?
    Jon swung his free arm in a half-strength punch, striking