Hotbloods 6: Allies

What would Jean and Roger think, if they could see you now? I wondered. In all honesty, it wasn’t a question I could answer. I didn’t know what to make of me, so how could they?

All of this is to save Lauren and the rest of the universe. You have to do what you have to do, to stop the coldbloods from creating that immortality elixir, I reassured myself, trying to convince myself that it was the truth. Angie might think the compass was useless, but I hadn’t given up yet.

The blue light flickered off as a beep sounded, and the air was released back into the shower cap device. I removed it with shaking hands, nervous to see what it looked like underneath. Glossy, copper locks cascaded past my shoulders, each strand a burnished bronze shade. I’d expected it to be wet, but my hair was completely dry, with no hint of my old color. Or my old self, for that matter.

I stared at myself in the mirror, unable to believe the transformation. I still looked like me, but, with a hint of amusement, I realized this color suited the girl I’d become, far more than the previous shade of ordinary brown. Still, it was going to take some getting used to.

Knowing I needed to keep my hair out of the way, for practicality’s sake, I braided the shiny, bronzed tendrils until they rested over my shoulder in a long rope. My hair really had grown a lot since Texas, but there was a time and a place for having it loose and flowing, and now wasn’t it.

I threw the shower cap in the trash, along with the box, and stepped out into the afternoon sunlight, where Navan was waiting patiently. His jaw dropped when he saw me, and a wide grin spread across my face. There was something about being a redhead that made me feel mischievous. I liked it.

“So, what do you think?” I asked, slipping my hands around his waist.

“I like it a lot,” he murmured. “But you’d look good no matter what, so it’s cheating.”

“You don’t feel like going ginger yourself?”

He grinned. “I’ve never thought about it. What do you think?”

“Nah, you’re good as you are.” I leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him passionately on the lips, catching his mouth with mine as I ran my hands through his hair. His fingertips traced a pattern up the length of my spine. “Come on, we should be getting back to the others. Food comes before kisses, I’m afraid.”

“If all I had were your kisses, I’d be a satisfied man,” he retorted.

“No, you’d be a hungry man.” I laughed, grabbing his hand and pulling him along as we headed back through the compound toward the gates. On the way out, I noticed the woman with the spines staggering down the path, clutching something under her arm. I tried to get a closer look, but she was holding it too tightly to her body. All I could do was hope it was the piece she needed to get off this port-planet.

Ten minutes later, we reached the edge of the shallow slope that led down to the shipyard. Standing at the lip, I could see the shadows of our group stretching out from under the shelter of a wrecked vessel’s turbine. They were sitting on the ground, and Mort seemed to be sleeping, but there was no sign of Bashrik yet.

“We come bearing gifts!” I shouted, as we approached where they were lounging.

Angie looked up, her face morphing into a mask of shock at the sight of me. “Whoa!” I wished she’d say more, but I knew not to expect much after the argument we’d had earlier.

“You look like some Celtic warrior goddess! Very cool!” Ronad enthused.

“Goddess of the eternally freckled and sunburnt, maybe,” Mort added wryly, flashing a cheeky grin. I knew not to be offended by anything he said anymore.

“I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, turkey-neck,” I fired back playfully. “How are your pools of sweat, anyway? Actually, don’t answer that, or I might not be able to get my food down.”

Mort’s red-veined eyes brightened. “Food?”

“Oh, yes, we have quite the smorgasbord.”

With the mood instantly elevated at the prospect of a good meal, Navan and I distributed the food and water. Everyone eagerly took theirs. It felt wrong to eat without Bashrik, but he’d soon be back, hopefully bearing some good news.

I opened my packet of dried food and poured some water on it, marveling as it bloomed to five times its size. I had no idea what it was supposed to be, but it was sandwich-like, with some sort of mystery paste in the middle. And, frankly, it was delicious. I wolfed it down as slowly as I could, knowing I’d end up with a stomachache if I ate it too fast. The others were doing the same. Mort had settled on a packet like mine, while Angie was chowing down on what looked like a block of ramen. Meanwhile, Ronad and Navan were rehydrating a sachet of blood in one of the water bottles, sharing it between them.

Satisfied and refreshed, we all sat back in the balmy heat of Wander’s afternoon sun and waited for Bashrik to return.

An hour later, the beat of approaching wings stirred us from our lazy rest. Bashrik swooped down, landing softly on the ground. He flashed a shy look in Angie’s direction, evidently wondering whether to greet her properly or not, but she was still coming around from her afternoon nap, yawning loudly.

“What’d you find?” Navan asked, offering him the bottle of rehydrated blood. Bashrik took it gratefully, taking big gulps. A trickle of crimson ran down the side of his chin. Only when he’d drunk his fill did he reply.

“There’s another shipyard on the other side of Wander, just as we thought,” he said, wiping his mouth. “It’s a real docking yard, way swankier than this scrapheap. I scouted out a few potential options, but I wanted your opinions first.”

“What’s the security like?” Mort chimed in.

“Fairly lax, from what I could see,” Bashrik replied. “There were a few cameras dotted around, but only a couple of patrolling guards. Nothing we can’t handle.”

My heart started beating faster. “How do we get there from here, without you having to make a million round trips and exhausting yourself?”

Bashrik smiled excitedly. “There’s a maintenance transport that leaves here every hour, ferrying mechanics and ship owners from one side to the other. Sometimes, owners come here for the cheaper parts, but they don’t stick around. We just need to hitch a ride with them.”

“Will they let us on?” I pressed.

“I don’t see why not. We’ve at least got to try it,” he urged, his eyes widening as he noticed my hair for the first time. “Nice hair! Suits you.”

I smiled. “Thanks. It was Navan’s idea.”

Navan looked like he was about to protest, but I flashed him a cheeky look, letting him know I was only teasing. I half expected Angie to make a comment about Bashrik not getting any bright ideas, or something like that, but she remained weirdly silent, seeming deep in thought.

I focused on the task ahead. Bashrik was right. If it was the only way to the other side, then we had to get on that transport ship. New, redheaded Riley wouldn’t take no for an answer—I refused to let her.

I exhaled sharply, looking around the group, my stomach clenching with nerves. “So, we ready to steal a ship?”





Chapter Six





Wanting to reach the rendezvous before the maintenance transport arrived, we headed along the perimeter of the shipyard, until Bashrik told us to stop. He’d seen it set down beside a battered signpost, which stood a good distance away from the waystation compound, the actual sign long since rusted away into a gnarled stub. I presumed it was all the way out here to avoid any riffraff getting on board, though the thought irked me a little bit. What right did anyone have to decide who could travel to the other side of the planet and who couldn’t?