Proxy: An Avalon Novella Page 6

  Jeth took the turn easy, not yet adjusted to the truck’s controls. But the moment he was straight again, he pushed it hard, ignoring the posted speed limits. Lizzie sent him down several other streets, a winding path that didn’t make any sense to Jeth. He figured Danforth and his crew would be heading out of the city as soon as possible. But then again, they probably didn’t have a spaceship with a functioning stealth drive waiting. They would have to charter a flight off planet through one of only a handful of ports, hoping they could smuggle the ruby out successfully.

  “Oh my,” Lizzie said.

  Jeth glanced at her. “What?”

  “The signal separated.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “That someone using that comm split off from the main group. Looks like the person is heading down an alley.”

  “An alley?” Jeth frowned, trying to make sense of it.

  “The first signal stopped just around the corner,” said Lizzie.

  Jeth pulled back on the controls, slowing the truck. Fortunately, the street they were on was empty of other vehicles. “Let me see it.”

  Lizzie held up the screen, and Jeth examined the map that showed the two red dots of the comm system they were tracking as well as the outline of the buildings and streets around them. Sure enough, one of the dots was moving down an alley, the progress too slow to be a vehicle, Jeth guessed. The other dot had come to a stop completely a short distance beyond the alley.

  A hunch came to Jeth as he remembered Danforth’s silence after his taunt about Soleil handing him over to Hammer. It hadn’t been an unfounded taunt at all, and Danforth might have realized it. Or maybe Aileen and her giant of a partner had decided to eliminate him now that they had what they wanted. That was the trouble with criminals—one could always trust them to be untrustworthy.

  Returning his focus to the front, Jeth piloted the truck forward, accelerating hard.

  “What are you doing?” Lizzie said as they passed the street where their quarry had turned. “They’re back there.”

  “I have an idea.” He made a left on the next street. “Let me know when we’ve reached the alley the second signal is heading down.” He leaned forward and switched off the truck’s autopilot override, a feature designed to take over control of the truck if it ventured too near any objects.

  “Oh!” Lizzie said, catching on. A few seconds later she pointed to the left. “It’s there.”

  Jeth steered the truck up onto the sidewalk. The anticollision alarms began to sound, filling the truck with a piercing wail. “Celeste, grab me a stunner,” Jeth called over his shoulder.

  By the time he brought the truck to a stop, blocking the alley as well as he could, Celeste was handing one to him. “Take over,” he said, standing up.

  Celeste stepped into the cab, assuming his place in the pilot’s seat as he exited the truck. Jeth primed the stunner and headed into the alley.

  Within seconds he saw Danforth running his way. He looked crazed, his eyes wide and his mouth open in a silent scream.

  “Stop, Danforth,” someone shouted from down the alley. “It was an accident. We aren’t going to hurt you, I swear!”

  So they did try to kill him, Jeth thought. And the slimy bastard had gotten away.

  Danforth slowed when he saw Jeth, stumbling over the litter-strewn alley floor. Behind Danforth, Aileen was closing in with the Luke 357 in her hand. So much for not hurting him.

  “Duck,” Jeth said, raising the stunner. As Danforth did so, Jeth took aim. The stunner was small, meant for short range, but Jeth was a good shot. He exhaled, a calm spreading over him. Time seemed to stretch as he watched Aileen’s eyes register his presence and her hands raise the gun in response. It didn’t matter. Jeth was in his element. He pulled the trigger, and the stunner bolt burst out from the end of the gun in a flash of brilliant blue light.

  Aileen tried to dodge it, but it struck her in the chest, and she crumpled to the ground. A thrill of triumph rose up in Jeth but died at once as Danforth barreled past him, heading toward the end of the alley. Jeth turned and followed after him, aiming the stunner at his back.

  Shady stepped around the corner just as Danforth reached it and, with one vicious swipe of his arm, caught Danforth across the neck and sent him flying backward. Danforth’s head cracked against the pavement as he landed.

  Jeth reached them, and together he and Shady hauled Danforth up and shoved him into the truck.

  “Let’s go,” Jeth said when they were all inside.

  Celeste punched the controls, and the truck launched forward. Jeth turned away from the front window and headed into the cargo hold, where they’d dumped Danforth in the aisle between the barrels. Jeth set the stunner on one of the barrels, and then he stooped over Danforth and began to search his pockets. The ruby had to be on him. Why else would Aileen have pursued him down the alley? Danforth had traded his Wellforth uniform for a footman’s long black jacket. A hard bulge in the right front pocket drew Jeth’s focus.

  As Jeth pulled the ruby out, Danforth’s eyes flashed open. He reached for the ruby, trying to snatch it from Jeth’s hand. Jeth pulled back and then struck Danforth in the temple with the back of his fist. Danforth cried out and tried to roll away, but there was nowhere to go in the cramped space.

  Jeth raised his hand, ready to hit him again, ready to leave him bloody and unconscious. But he held back as an inhuman howl issued from Danforth’s throat.

  “Please,” he said, pushing himself into a sitting position. “Please, Jeth. Please don’t tell Hammer.” Danforth reached toward him, the gesture one of supplication instead of threat. “Please don’t tell him.”

  Jeth took a step back, his stomach churning as he watched a tendril of black liquid slip from Danforth’s nose and into his mouth.

  “Please, Jeth, please.” Danforth slowly got to his feet, his whole body trembling from something more than fear.

  “It’s too late.” Pity and revulsion twisted inside Jeth’s chest like snakes. “He already knows.”

  Danforth shrieked, the sound a piercing strike against Jeth’s eardrums. Then, with surprising speed, Danforth leaped forward, crashing into him. Jeth stumbled and went down, Danforth on top of him, his stinking, rotted breath hot on his face, choking him.

  Danforth was a thing possessed, not man but force—desperation and madness made flesh. He clawed at Jeth’s face, trying to gouge out his eyes. Jeth fought back, dropping the ruby as he moved to protect his face. Danforth reared up, his mouth open and teeth bared.

  He’s going to bite me, Jeth thought, horrified.

  “Get him off!”

  But Shady was already there, trying to grab hold of Danforth’s thrashing limbs. Danforth struck Shady in the nose with one wild punch, and Jeth heard the crack as it broke. Shady bellowed in pain and stumbled backward.

  Flynn came at him next, but he stood little chance, still weakened from the stunner blow. Danforth struck him in the temple and he went down.

  Jeth managed to get his hands on Danforth’s shoulder, holding him off but just barely. He was bigger than Danforth, but the fervor of Danforth’s addiction-fueled madness lent him unnatural strength. A wet heat slid down Jeth’s face, blood from where Danforth’s nails had cut him.

  Danforth continued to thrash, his strength unrelenting. Jeth tilted his head back as far as he could, trying to keep it out of danger. Above and behind him, he saw Lizzie standing with the stunner gripped in her shaking hands, fear etched across her face.

  “Shoot him!” Jeth screamed.

  Lizzie hesitated a moment longer. Danforth’s mouth brushed Jeth’s arm as the man changed the focus of his attack.

  “Shoot him!” Jeth felt teeth clench down on his forearm, and the skin, so soft and vulnerable, tore in a blaze of white heat.

  “Shoot him, Liz! Shoot him!”

  Jeth saw her expression harden. A second later a loud crack and a burst of blue light filled the cargo hold. Jeth felt the heat of the stunner shot warm his f
ace, and then he slipped into darkness.

  CHAPTER 08

  JETH DIDN’T REGAIN CONSCIOUSNESS UNTIL THEY WERE almost back to the Debonair. He sat up and looked around, spying Lizzie sitting on top of a barrel across from him. She looked guilt-stricken.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice far too quiet for his normally boisterous sister.

  Jeth rubbed his aching head. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it would have if the stunner had hit him directly instead of just grazing him. There was that to be grateful for, at least. He slid his hand over his face, inspecting the damage with his fingers. Blood crusted the cuts on his cheeks where Danforth had clawed him. He needed to disinfect them soon. The bite on his arm was worse. He hoped one of the barrels was still full so he could douse it in alcohol.

  “I’m fine,” Jeth said at last, looking up. He smiled, hiding the wince as the gesture pulled at his cuts. “You did good.”

  She nodded, her expression unchanged.

  Jeth frowned. “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”

  “She thinks she killed him,” Shady said from where he stood in the opposite corner from Lizzie. He was casually tossing the Heart of the Universe from hand to hand like a baseball. Celeste and Flynn were in the cab of the truck. Shady pointed toward the back. Jeth turned and saw Danforth in a heap of tangled limbs.

  “That’s nonsense,” Jeth said, getting to his feet. “He’ll be fine. It was just a stunner.” He walked over to Danforth and examined his face. Burner blood flowed freely from his nostrils, as well as his eyes and ears. Jeth swallowed. Maybe he wasn’t going to be all right. He bent over and felt for a pulse in Danforth’s neck. He found it after a few seconds. It was weak, but his Odyssey-ravaged heart was still beating.

  Jeth turned back to Lizzie. “He’ll survive. The worst of it he did to himself.”

  Lizzie didn’t say anything, and Jeth recoiled from the onslaught of guilt. Please don’t die. He didn’t want Lizzie shouldering that kind of burden.

  He walked back to his sister and put an arm around her, squeezing. “I mean it, Liz. The blood is from the Odyssey, not your stunner shot.”

  She swallowed. “I know that.”

  Jeth sighed, knowing that she would need time to get over it. He shouldn’t expect her to bounce back right away. Hell, he would need time to get over it—the memory of Danforth’s face with his teeth bared and so close to his was enough fodder for a dozen nightmares.

  Jeth hugged her once more, then stepped through the doorway to the cab. Ahead, the trees on the path they were following gave way to the clearing where they’d parked the Debonair hours before. Celeste pulled the truck to a stop and powered down the engines.

  Mark Hilty greeted them with palpable relief as they climbed out.

  “Thanks for alerting Hammer for us,” Jeth said as they began to clean out the truck of all evidence of their presence.

  “Sure. If you’d gotten caught, it would’ve been my ass as much as yours.”

  Jeth snorted. Not hardly. But he was too tired for a needless argument.

  “What are you going to do about him?” Hilty asked, pointing at Danforth, still lying in the cargo hold. They’d been working around him, a problem no one wanted to face.

  Jeth stared at Danforth, dread pulsing in his temples. It was up to him. He was the leader, and that meant making the hard decisions.

  The rest of the Shades gathered around him.

  “We could just leave him here,” Celeste said when Jeth hesitated.

  Yes, they could.

  “Or we could kill him,” Shady said, sounding only half-serious.

  Jeth considered it. Killing him might be humane, merciful. But who was Jeth to make that choice? In that moment he’d never felt more like his age. Gone was the swagger of his position as leader of the Malleus Shades. In that moment he wanted to be someone else, somewhere else, more desperately than ever before. He wished he were on Avalon, traveling carefree through space, the tether of such responsibilities broken.

  But that was just a fantasy. And it would remain one forever unless he continued to play this role and earn the money he needed.

  Kill him.

  Jeth tried to imagine if he even could. He was relieved to discover that he couldn’t. Not in cold blood. For once that dark, calculating part of him was silent.

  Please don’t tell him, Danforth had said. Even in his crazed, drug-ravaged state he’d understood what was in store for him.

  Jeth had known it, too. But he’d already given Danforth a chance to do the right thing. He couldn’t do it again. Hardening himself against the doubt already creeping into his mind and heart, Jeth made his decision. “We turn him over to Hammer.”

  Nobody spoke, not to agree or argue. Jeth turned and headed for the Debonair, relieved to have the decision made. He pushed the doubt away, thinking about how Danforth had nearly gotten them captured. And he’d hurt Lizzie, both physically and emotionally. That alone was enough for Jeth to make his peace with it.

  And he would. Sooner or later.

  CHAPTER 09

  WHEN JETH AND HIS CREW ARRIVED BACK AT THE SPACEPORT they called home, Hammer’s soldiers were waiting for them. There were two orders of soldiers, higher and lower—the Malleus Brethren and the Malleus Guards. The Brethren wore black brain implants fixed to the backs of their skulls, a technology that gave them extraordinary strength, intelligence, and—according to rumor—the ability to communicate mind to mind.

  The Guard, the lower order, wore clear-colored implants. These lent them strength too, but it also imprisoned their minds, erasing them forever. The Guard were little more than shells of human flesh, mindless slaves, alive but not alive. Living dead men.

  “Where is the traitor?” one of the Brethren asked Jeth as he descended the ramp onto the flight deck. Lizzie and the others followed after him.

  “In the brig. It’s unlocked.” There hadn’t been a reason to lock Danforth in. He hadn’t stirred once on the journey home. Jeth had a feeling the Odyssey might’ve permanently damaged his brain. Not that it mattered, given the fate that awaited him.

  The Brethren who had spoken motioned to the Guard, and they stepped forward in eerie unison and marched into the cargo bay, their faces expressionless and their eyes vacuous. Jeth shivered. They might as well be robots or reanimated corpses. They did not speak.

  They carried Danforth out a moment later, holding his body up over their heads like a sacrificial lamb on the way to the slaughter.

  “Where are you taking him?” Jeth asked the Brethren, even though he already knew. But he couldn’t ignore the tremor of hope that he might be wrong.

  “Surgery,” the Brethren answered.

  Jeth exhaled. He hated being right this time. He tried to picture what Danforth would look like afterward—his greasy hair shaved short and his face a mask of nothingness from the implant inserted into the back of his skull, a clear one, same as the rest of the Guard. He would be Danforth no more, and he would never betray Hammer again.

  “Hammer wants to see you right away,” the other Brethren said. “We’re to take you to him.”

  Jeth had guessed as much. He touched the pocket of his flight jacket, which he’d put on after he’d showered and changed back into his own clothes. The ruby, or whatever it was, lay inside it. He was anxious to turn it over.

  Some fifteen minutes later, they arrived at Hammer’s estate, located at the center of the spaceport. To Jeth’s surprise, the Brethren didn’t take him to one of Hammer’s offices or meeting rooms but rather into the private gardens. The heavy perfume from the flowers and the dark smell of earth and plants filled Jeth’s nose and made him momentarily dizzy.

  “He’s through there,” one of the Brethren said, pointing at a vine-covered trellis.

  Jeth walked through it alone and spotted Hammer sitting on a veranda. Once upon a time, it might’ve seemed odd to Jeth to find such a place on a spaceport—a real-life garden with simulated sunshine overhead, enough to warrant the cove
ring on the veranda—but he knew that the appearance of wealth and power mattered more to Hammer than anything else. And a garden like this in the middle of space was decadent in the extreme.

  “Hello, Jethro,” Hammer said from the lawn chair he was reclining in. He raised a glass, cloudy with condensation and full of some brown liquid over ice, and took a long drink. He was a big man, both in muscle and fat, his shoulders wide and arms thick, his belly prodigious. Like his soldiers, he wore a brain implant, a red one fixed to his skull like a parasitic spider. Hammer set the glass on the table next to him. “Do you have the ruby?”

  Jeth pulled the stone from his pocket and handed it to Hammer, who accepted it with one meaty hand. He examined the so-called ruby, a pleased expression rising to his face.

  “Excellent. Congratulations on another successful job.”

  Normally, Jeth didn’t engage Hammer in conversation unless he absolutely had to, but curiosity got the better of him. “What is it? I know it’s not ruby.”

  “No, it’s not.” Hammer examined Jeth, his eyes like small black stones on his broad face. “To be honest, I’m not exactly sure what it is. Nor do I care.”

  Of course not, Jeth thought. All Hammer cared about was the monetary value. “Who wanted it then?”

  An amused smile spread over Hammer’s lips. The question had been impertinent, but Hammer was in a good mood. Jeth wondered why, a sinking feeling in his gut that it might be satisfaction over Danforth’s punishment. For a second, Jeth pictured Danforth on an operating table, the long spike of the brain implant being pressed against the back of his skull.

  “The ITA,” Hammer said.

  Jeth blinked, trying to imagine what the Interstellar Transport Authority would want with a random piece of rock and failing to come up with a single explanation. The ITA manufactured and policed all the metatech in the universe—the technology that enabled light-speed space travel. “Did they say why they wanted it?”

  Hammer set the stone on the table and picked up his glass. “I believe they wish to study it for some project or other. But it’s all highly classified, naturally.”