Hotbloods 5: Traitors

“Is that why you didn’t tell her?” I’d thought it a little weird that he hadn’t used Jareth’s arrest against his mother, who’d been out cold after her near-smothering and was still oblivious to the fact.

“I didn’t want her wailing about how much of a victim she is.” He sighed. “My parents are selfish creatures. They’ll never change.”

“I guess visiting the prison is out of the question, then?” I joked.

Navan snorted. “I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. He’s made his own deceitful bed. Now he can lie in it.”

A siren blared, startling us both. I peered out of the doorframe to see a cluster of medical personnel, dressed in the same black uniform, burst through the double doors nearby. They stampeded through the hallway toward a room at the end, where a single red light was flashing above the door. They’d just hurtled past us when Mort stumbled out of the room in question, in the guise of Doctor Ulani, his hands covered in Vysanthean blood.

“Oh, God!” I gasped, clutching Navan’s arm.

“What happened, Doctor?” I heard one of the medical staff ask.

“Well, you’ll never believe it, but the poor bastard had a seizure. It forced him up out of his bed, and he fell, chest first, onto the vascular needle I’d been preparing to relieve the pressure in his valves,” Mort said. “I tried to stop him, but there was nothing I could do—he was too strong for me!”

He caught sight of us and grimaced, waiting until the staff had sprinted into the room before sneaking up the hallway toward us.

“People might actually die because of you, Mort!” I whispered. “You’re in way over your head here.”

“Eh, get down off your rainbow griffon, Miss Perfect. I’ll have you know I’ve delegated the truly sick to my assistants and the other doctors, while I get the easy cases,” he explained proudly. “I just didn’t expect sticking a needle the size of a chopstick into someone’s heart to be hard. There really is blood everywhere. I’ve never seen anything spray so far or so fast in my entire life!” He grinned, waggling his dripping hands, as if to prove a point.

“Why didn’t you get someone to help?” I hissed, incredulous.

He shrugged. “Like I said, I didn’t think it would be hard. Ah, well, you live and you learn.”

“That poor guy might not!”

Mort laughed, his cheery demeanor fading as he set eyes on Navan. “Well, if it isn’t Captain Abandonment! How are you, bloodsucker? Finally decided to make an appearance, did we?” he mused. “I see the landmine didn’t get you—more’s the pity.”

“You must be the oh-so-unhelpful voice on the comm device,” Navan retorted. “Not once did this guy tell me how you were, though I must have asked about a million times.”

“You didn’t care! You left her all alone. But I didn’t abandon her, did I, sweet cheeks?” Mort wiggled his eyebrows.

“Sweet cheeks?” Navan scowled. “I’ll sweet cheeks you in a second, skinbag!”

“Hey, I’m not the one in the wrong here, grayskin. I didn’t leave your precious lover to a bunch of pumped-up, fang-mouthed enslavers!”

Navan rolled his eyes. “Enslavers? One time, skinbag! We forced you to take us to the rebel base one time!”

“And have I heard a sorry? I don’t think I have.”

“That’s because you deserved what you got. Your people are a bunch of untrustworthy leeches, always clinging to a superior species to get yourselves noticed,” Navan shot back. “Why don’t you go back to Mallarot, and Mallarot in hell!”

“Oh, very clever, Mister Wordplay,” Mort taunted. “And who’re you calling a superior species? Coldbloods? Don’t make me laugh. You all would have died out centuries ago if you hadn’t gone around stealing everyone else’s things. Vysantheans are just space pirates in nicer clothes!”

“Says the one who steals other people’s identities!” Navan hissed.

Mort snorted. “Pipe down, Captain High And Mighty!”

I was almost too amused to stop them, but I had to step in if we were ever going to get anything done.

“If you two don’t stop, you’re going to start drawing unwanted attention,” I snapped. “So I suggest you both shake hands and get over it. We’re in this together now, whether you like it or not.”

Mort wiped his palms quickly on the clothes he was wearing, removing most of the blood. They looked at each other sourly, before shooting out their hands as if they were in a Wild West standoff, both desperate to be the first one to make the move. I stifled an exasperated sigh as they gripped one another’s hands and shook firmly, neither of them wanting to be the one to break.

“Enough!” I barked, forcing them to let go. “Mort, we’ve got a task for you, if you’re up for a challenge.”

He eyed me curiously. “Is this part of our deal?”

“It is. It might just be our way out.” It wasn’t entirely the truth, but he didn’t need to know that.

“In that case, what’s the order of the day, princess?” he asked, grinning.

I smiled back, feeling a bristle of excitement. “Do you have access to the palace mailroom?”

“You know me. I can wriggle my way into just about anywhere… if you catch my meaning.” He wiggled his eyebrows at me, only stopping when Navan shoved him in the ribs.

“I think that means yes, he can get into the palace mailroom,” Navan said coldly, flashing Mort a warning look.

“Would you be able to send a large package from the mailroom without it being processed through the machines?” I continued. “And, for the love of God, please don’t make any large package jokes—it’s too obvious, and, frankly, it’s beneath you, Mort.”

“I know what I’d like beneath me.” He chuckled, getting another shove in the ribs. “But yes, I think I can make that work. I know my way around a mailroom. I bet you do too, Riley, am I right? See, bloodsucker, I can do wordplay too.” He grinned triumphantly.

Even I had to smirk at that one. “Focus, Mort.”

“I can do it, but who’s the package for?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Let me guess… The Fed? Your human buddies? The Darians? The Sonorans? Orion—is it Pandora’s head in a box?”

I pulled a face. “That’s disgusting, Mort.”

“What? It’s a valid guess!”

“I’m not telling you where the package is going. It’s no slight on you, but you don’t need to know,” I insisted.

He gave an accepting shrug. “Hey, what can I say? You’re smart not to fully trust me. I know me, and I wouldn’t fully trust myself.”

“We also need some help finding a contact in the darkstar market,” Navan added.

I glanced at him in surprise. I’d never heard him mention the darkstar market before. In fact, the only time I’d ever heard about the darkstar market was when that three-eyed guy mentioned it to his crew of scavengers, back at Tristitia Lake. Judging by the sound of it, and what those scavengers had been loading onto their ship, I guessed it was some sort of black market. Maybe Navan had an idea for what we could send the Titans. After all, although I’d been planning the route to get the package out of Vysanthe, I’d had no clue what we were going to put in it.

“Ah, my second home,” Mort said with a smirk. “I’ll let you borrow my code, since I’m such a nice guy. And please, if you happen upon the right part of the market, give my warmest regards to Rosita at The Legless Merman.”

With the code safely in our grasp, and the security of having an inside man in the palace mailroom, we made our way back to Sarrask’s cottage, leaving Mort to his medical misconduct.





Chapter Twenty-Nine