Price of Ransom by Kate Elliott Read Free Book Online Page B

back. She began to twist away.
    “Kill the other four,” he ordered. Lily froze. The soldiers hesitated.
    “Wait—” began Comrade Trey.
    Vanov pressed the muzzle of his pistol against Lily’s ear. “Take this ship off nav.”
    In the instant of indecision before anyone could act, the air rank with the scent of confusion and fear, stained with the salt of Lia’s tears and the heavy aroma of Jenny’s blood and the unexpected pungency of Vanov’s rabid hatred, Hawk could not smell any emotion in Lily at all. It was as if she was already dead, her essence fled, gone, torn from him forever.
    The horror of losing her paralyzed him. He did not even act when two soldiers put their hands on him, when he felt the shift of their bodies as they slowly—or slowly it seemed to him, caught in this moment, strung out beyond ordinary time—raised their weapons. The ghosts of the Forlorn Hope ’s lost crew crowded the bridge, their fragrance overwhelming him, tenuous and yet stronger now than it had ever been before.
    Lily caught Hawk’s gaze with hers and blinked twice, deliberately. The pistol against her head smelled of cold, unfeeling steel. Her hair hid its muzzle where Vanov held it thrust against her ear.
    “Five seven two,” hissed the Mule. “ Break .”
    “You bitch!”
    They went through just as Vanov pulled the trigger.

4 Old Secrets
    B LOOD BLOOD BLOOD AGONY howl pain blackness blood blood
    And came out.
    “Perfect,” hissed the Mule.
    There was silence on the bridge. No answer at all.
    Pinto unclipped his chin harness and twisted to look at the same time as the Mule turned in its chair.
    It was hard to make sense of what was on the bridge. The first movement that had form was that of Lily slowly rising to her feet. Her face was pale with shock. Blood spattered her clothing. She saw first Pinto, then the Mule, and last Bach, and as if they gave her stability, she took one step forward and stared around the bridge.
    The step brought her foot into a heavy obstacle. As one, she and the Mule and Pinto looked down. Bach sang something muted.
    It was Comrade Vanov’s body. Scarlet stained his Jehanist whites. His throat had been ripped open. Blood still flowed, pooling in the crook of one bent arm.
    Behind, someone began to retch violently. Jenny moaned, and stirred. A tiny voice said, “Momma,” and began to cry.
    Lily eased her boot away from Vanov’s corpse and turned slowly to survey what lay about her: Lia standing in blank-faced shock, Gregori sobbing beside her; Yehoshua gripping his chair back so hard his knuckles were mottled white; Jenny crumpled under one console, trying to lift her head. Nguyen had fainted. Finch was throwing up.
    Bodies littered the floor like so much dross. The marbled deck was awash in blood. It was hard to imagine that fifteen bodies could produce so much of it.
    All the soldiers were dead. Their throats had been ripped out.
    Not all: by Finch, Hawk stood, holding the woman Trey by a portion of her tunic. Her face had the sheen of terror. She was too paralyzed by fright and shock to move. Her eyes were locked on Hawk’s face like any helpless being stares at the monster that has entrapped it.
    Hawk’s expression was too blank to be human. It had an alien cast, as if some other creature possessed him. He looked horrifying. His clothes bore huge spatters of blood. His hands were red. As she watched, a single drop coalesced off one palm and fell to shatter on the floor. More red spattered his blue hair, like some cosmetic pattern in a new fashion. But worst of all, his face was streaked with it, fresh blood, and most of it around his lips.
    “She smells of Robbie,” he said, as if explaining something, his voice both hoarsely his own, and yet entirely foreign. He opened his hand off her jacket and without a sound collapsed unconscious to the floor.
    Comrade Trey began to shake, and cough, and then to cry uncontrollably. But she remained standing, because to sink down would bring