Hotbloods 5: Traitors

I frowned at the thought, though I imagined it was a pretty quick way to go. Even so, it made me look over my shoulder a couple of times, just to be sure there wasn’t one lurking in the trees behind me. I was about to ask what the humanoid was when the Darian shouted out.

“Stone, where do you want this?” it asked, carrying an armful of expensive-looking tech. The creature’s voice was high and shrill, cutting right through me.

“Drop it in Red Bay,” the casual leader replied, scuffing his boot against the grass. All he needed was a motorcycle and a cigarette in his mouth, and he’d be every parent’s nightmare.

“Are we really taking all of that rock with us?” the Rexombra asked, glancing over at the concert hall. “There won’t be room for anything else.”

“Relax, Alfa, we’ll take a couple blocks,” the man named Stone said. “We’ll still ‘ave plenty of room for all that artsy crap you insist we nick.”

The Rexombra, apparently named Alfa, grinned, flashing a pair of fangs. “But does my artsy crap always sell?”

Stone rolled his eyes.

“Stone, yes or no? Does my artsy crap always make us a ridiculous amount of credits?”

Stone chuckled. “Point taken.”

“So, which planet are we hitting next?” the Darian asked as it emerged from the belly of the ship. “Since I picked this one, I think it’s someone else’s turn.”

The Carokian flapped its gaping mouth at the Darian. “You didn’t pick this one, Niniver,” it slurped.

“I did!”

“Tarin has that civil war brewing, and they’ve got loads of those special mushrooms you like, Stone—if you know what I mean?” Alfa suggested, but Stone shook his head, evidently bored.

The lycan wandered up with two jewelry boxes under its arms. “How about we visit the North, see what the war has to offer up there?”

“Not a bad idea, Dio. Saves us a bit o’ space lag,” Stone remarked, grinning.

Alfa, the panther-like one, darted on ahead, retrieving a few blocks of the concert hall opaleine, which he brought back single-handedly. Soon enough, to my relief, they were preparing to depart. We’d wasted a good twenty minutes watching them, and I was worried it might cost us dearly.

“Is that the last o’ it?” Stone asked, and his crew nodded. “Speak now or forever hold yer peace!”

The lycan made a crude gesture, which made the others laugh. Ronad snorted beside me.

As they headed for the ship’s entrance, a deafening crack shot through the air like a gunshot. Above my head, a tree had splintered, the weight snapping the trunk in two, the falling timber narrowly missing the spot where Ronad and I stood. Stone whirled around, whipping the bandana off his head. In the center of his brow, a third eye opened, blinking slowly, looking directly at us.

I tried to duck down into the undergrowth, but my body refused to cooperate. I was frozen solid, unable to move a muscle. I couldn’t even open my mouth to speak. Using my peripheral vision, I could tell that Ronad was struggling too, a vein throbbing at his temple.

“What you looking at, Stone?” Alfa asked, peering toward the forest.

“That tree fell, and I wanna know why,” he replied, his tone menacing. “I think there’s someone out there, dropping eaves on us.”

Alfa rested a paw-like hand on his leader’s shoulder. “We need to get going before that queen’s party is over. They’ll send the authorities, and we want to be long gone by then,” he warned. “No point worrying about a few injured soldiers. That’s all it’ll be in a warzone like this.”

Stone’s three eyes narrowed. “I can sense ‘em.”

“And the authorities will sense us in a sec, if we don’t get a move on!” Alfa insisted, more urgently this time. “Besides, we’re running on a schedule, remember? We’ve got goods to deliver! Don’t want Ezra to start nagging us again.”

Had I heard that right? Ezra—Orion’s right-hand man. Even if I had, though, that didn’t mean it was the same Ezra I knew.

Turning around, Stone tied his bandana back around his head, covering his third eye. Immediately, my muscles relaxed, everything returning to normal.

The scavengers scurried inside the belly of their rusty vessel. A minute later, the engines fired to life, sending debris flying everywhere as they clattered and rasped, spewing out hot air and bright white light. The things that looked like turbines turned upside down, creating the propulsion to lift them into the air, which they did with another rattle and a couple of bangs for good measure. It definitely wasn’t a smooth take-off, but I was glad to see the back of them as they flew off.

“What the hell was that?” I gasped, unclenching.

“Who, the dude who looks like he’s going to an Earthen funeral?”

“Yeah, how did he do that? I couldn’t move!”

“He’s a triclops—more specifically, an ambaka,” Ronad explained, cracking his neck. “They can stun any creature that crosses the path of their third eye. That is what happened to us. Although, I’m pretty sure they’re supposed to be extinct. Their entire planet was destroyed in a war with Vysanthe, over fifty years ago. We were always told there were no survivors.”

“Let me guess, the coldbloods wrote those history books?”

Ronad grinned wryly. “Touché.”

“Come on, we need to get to Ianthan’s cabin before the executions finish,” I urged, taking off across the shoreline, with Ronad in hot pursuit.

Upon reaching the ruins of the concert hall, I let Ronad take over as navigator. Keeping up a quick pace, we raced through the trees, getting deeper and deeper into the forest. Everything looked the same to me, with no set path to follow, but I trusted Ronad to keep us right.

Sure enough, five minutes later, we reached a small clearing in the woodland. Nestled in the center of it was a cabin, almost identical to the one that Navan had taken me to, although it seemed like a lifetime ago. To my relief, it looked like it had avoided the bombardment completely, with only a thin blanket of ash to show it was anywhere near a warzone.

I wondered if the place had alarms. Ianthan might not be alive anymore to protect his property, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t rigged his cabin to alert someone of invaders. My concerns were short-lived, as Ronad brandished a key he’d found under a fake rock.

“I am so glad he decided not to move this!” He laughed, slipping it into the lock and opening the door.

I followed him inside the musty interior. I guessed it hadn’t been used since Ianthan traveled to Earth, never to return. The thought made me sad. No matter what Jethro had done to coerce his son into treason, Ianthan had been Navan’s friend, and the loss of him still weighed heavy on Navan’s mind. For that reason, I was almost glad that Navan wasn’t here with me. The cabin was like a time capsule, frozen in the last moment that Ianthan had spent here. There were even a couple of empty blood vials scattered about, gathering dust.

“You take the bedroom; I’ll take this room,” I suggested, not wanting to go rummaging around in Ianthan’s private things.

Ronad nodded. “Sounds fair.”

He returned a couple of minutes later, while I was halfway inside a cabinet. Poking my head out, I saw the black box in Ronad’s hand and felt a wave of relief. My throat was already tickly with dust, my eyes watering. This part, at least, had been easy.

Extricating myself from the cabinet, I wandered over to the sofa, where Ronad had sat down. A nervous energy bristled between us as we looked down at the black box.

“Do you know what to do?” I asked.

“I think so.” Ronad tapped several buttons. “I just need to filter out all the generic signals and find a unique transmission wave in Northern Vysanthe. That’ll hopefully take us through to Brisha’s control room.”

“Shouldn’t we take this back to the house, save some time?”

Ronad shook his head. “Out here, there’s less risk of interference. It’s why we used to use these cabins. Plus, we’ve got no idea who might be listening in for any transmissions made from the Idrax house.”

His hands moved deftly across the tiny control panel, his brow furrowed with concentration. I watched as a small keyboard appeared, though the symbols weren’t familiar to my eyes. Ronad quickly typed a couple of sentences.