Blood Will Tell (43 page)

Creel glanced over at Mia Felaris, at the boy she held so close. The kid was swarthy and dark, and didn’t look much like her. He did seem oddly familiar, though, as if Creel had seen his face somewhere before.

Even though he had had his suspicions, this sudden confirmation of his theory hit him with as much force as a blow to the gut. He glanced back at Eryk Thorn, who reached up to remove his helmet. Creel supposed the mercenary had nothing to hide at this point—after all, both he and Jessa had seen Thorn’s face back at the docking bay, when the man had been dressed in simple civilian clothing. But it was still a little shocking to watch him lift off the helmet and then tuck it under his left arm.

Looking from the mercenary to the boy who stood next to Mia Felaris was like watching one of those time-lapse vids where you see a flower sprout from a bud to full bloom in the space of a second. So it was true. Eryk Thorn really was Jerem Felaris’ father.

“You see, then,” Thorn said, and Creel nodded.

“They took him,” Mia Felaris put in. For the first time Creel noticed she held a battered-looking synth-hide satchel in her free hand. “We had to get him back.”

And her simple words allowed the last of the puzzle pieces to fall into place. The criminals who had taken over the Stony Point amusement park had kidnapped Jerem, hoping to hold him for a fat ransom. Creel wondered briefly how much cash Mia Felaris and Thorn had taken away from Iradia all those years ago and then decided it didn’t really matter at this point. Obviously the kidnappers had thought it was a great deal.

But now they must all be dead. Creel knew too much about Thorn’s reputation to think that he would have allowed any of them to live. Either they hadn’t known of Mia Felaris’ connection to the mercenary, or they’d thought they could match him.

Well, there’s your first mistake, kids
, he thought, and couldn’t help smiling a little.

“So what now?” Jessa asked. She had abandoned her work on the locking mechanism’s faceplate and had come to stand next to Creel.

“You let us go,” Thorn said simply.

That would be a violation of about fifty line items in Nova Angeles’ penal code, but Creel knew protests were useless. “And then what?” he asked.

Thorn and Mia Felaris exchanged a glance, and then the mercenary’s gaze moved to the boy who stood at his mother’s side. Something about the hard lines of Thorn’s mouth softened almost imperceptibly. “We leave,” he said. “You won’t need to worry about us mucking up your nice, tidy little world anymore. And you get to take all the credit for eliminating a band of dangerous criminals.”

He couldn’t ask for much more than that, Creel knew. Any attempt to stop Thorn from simply walking out of here would at best end up with him and Jessa locked back in the supply room.

“All right,” Creel said. Beside him Jessa shifted, as if she wanted to make some further protest but realized that wouldn’t be very smart.

Thorn’s dark eyes looked almost amused. Then he turned to Mia Felaris and his son. “Let’s get out of here.”

And, simple as that, it was over. Creel stood in the entrance to the supply shed and watched the three of them walk away, off toward a sort of courtyard area where he could see the arrowhead-shaped outline of Thorn’s ship waiting. The hatch opened at an unseen signal, and then the mercenary’s unexpected family disappeared from view. A moment later, Creel heard the engines warming up, and finally the ship lifted into the air and sped away to the east until it at last disappeared in the sun.

For a few seconds he could only remain where he was, gazing off into the hazy morning sky. Then he became aware of Jessa staring up at him, a half-amused expression on her face.

“You look like a kid who just found out his birthday present was a new school uniform,” she remarked.

Creel shook his head and forced himself to smile. “That bad, huh?”

“Only to someone who knows you.” Then she laughed. “Cheer up, Rafe. It’s not that bad.”

“It isn’t?” he asked. God only knew what sort of mess the mercenary had left behind, and what kind of lies Creel and Jessa would be forced to invent to cover it up.

“No,” she said, and again he saw that trace of a dimple in her cheek. “Remember, you owe me a dinner date.” And she actually reached out and gave his hand a quick squeeze before she stepped away, striding purposefully toward the open area Thorn’s ship had just vacated.

It’s a mess, all right
, Creel thought, as he followed along after her and then paused to catch his first glimpse of the carnage the mercenary had left behind. Then he saw Jessa turn and shoot a wicked smile in his direction, a smile that brought a sudden flush of heat to his face.

Suddenly, the aftermath didn’t seem all that important. They’d get it ironed out eventually. In fact, he welcomed this particular mess, if it had somehow brought him and Jessa closer together.

Besides
, he thought cheerfully,
I could probably make a pretty good case for all this being self-defense, considering the kidnappers instigated the whole thing by taking the boy.

“So,” he said to Jessa, who stood a few paces away and surveyed the bloody aftermath of Thorn’s own particular form of justice with a look of bemused respect on her face, “you ready to test the outer limits of plausible deniability?”

They didn’t bother to stop for anything, because there was nothing left to take. All of Miala’s and Jerem’s belongings had burned with the house, and of course Thorn had everything he needed right here in the
Fury
. The ship’s cockpit would only accommodate two; Miala had given up the copilot’s seat so her son could take his place there next to his father. She found she didn’t mind too much—after all, the two of them had eight years of catching up to do. However, the only other chamber in the ship that could house a living being during the acceleration of takeoff was Thorn’s holding cell. Miala had lain down on the cot there, trying not to think of all the hapless souls who might once have been kept in the cramped compartment, and attempting to ignore the restraints that had probably been used on its previous residents—save for the one chest strap that would hold her in place while the ship was breaking free of Nova Angeles’ gravity well. Of course, Thorn hadn’t locked the cell, and once they were in space she could get up and move about the ship, but it still was unsettling to lie there and wonder if anyone had died on that cot, and if so, whether their uneasy spirit hovered about the place.

The second the ship leveled off, she undid the strap and pushed herself off the cot, then headed forward to the cockpit. She could hear Jerem inquiring in enthusiastic tones as to which button did what and how many guns the ship had, but he subsided once he heard his mother approach.

“Do you think they’ll come after us?” Miala asked.

Jerem shot her a scornful look, but Thorn appeared to carefully consider her question. “No,” he said. “After all, we did them a favor, getting rid of that scum.”

Well, that was true, but she had lived on Nova Angeles long enough to know how much its inhabitants loved order and the rule of an intricate legal system. It had taken some getting used to, accustomed as she was to Iradia’s rough frontier justice. She found it difficult to believe that RilSec wouldn’t mount some sort of pursuit.

Then again, that one officer had agreed to let them go. For some reason she found she trusted him—he had a pleasant face, if not exactly handsome, but there was something steady and level in his eyes that seemed to inspire trust. He’d given his word. She had to take his promise at face value and hope he had meant it.

“How far?” she asked, changing the subject. Maybe later she could discuss her doubts and worries with Thorn, but she didn’t want to do it now in front of Jerem, who was clearly still riding the euphoria of his rescue and who perhaps didn’t realize how close a call the whole thing had been.

“Approximately nineteen standard hours,” Thorn replied. His hands moved easily across the console. “We’re just about to drop into subspace.” He reached for the handle that activated the subspace drive and pulled it down.

Miala gripped the back of Thorn’s seat as the
Fury
jumped forward. She probably should have just stayed strapped down in the holding cell until they had dropped out of normal space, but she couldn’t have stood another minute in the confined space of the dim little chamber. Besides, this wasn’t really so bad. It wasn’t much worse than standing up in one of Rilsport’s public transports while the driver accelerated to merge with traffic.

“Cool,” Jerem breathed, watching the chaotic play of light and dark outside the ship’s forward viewports. Miala had taken him into space before, but only to New Chicago and back, and therefore he had never seen subspace in all its unsettling glory. He looked over at his father. “So how does it work?”

Thorn gave his son an amused glance. “How does what work?”

“The subspace drive.”

At that question the mercenary actually chuckled. “Can’t tell you for sure, Jerem. All that concerns me is that it does work, not how. I can perform some repairs if I have to, but if you’re looking for the theory...” He shrugged. “I can’t help you there.”

Jerem appeared to consider Thorn’s reply for a moment. “Well, I guess that makes sense.” Then he turned back to look outside, chin on his hands as he continued to study the churning heavens. Suddenly his eyelids drooped a little, and he gave what sounded like a jaw-cracking yawn.

At once Miala asked, “Jerem, did you get any sleep last night?”

He managed to look both guilty and proud at the same time. “Sure. I think I must have gotten at least two hours. I couldn’t tell for sure, since I was in the ventilation shafts after I escaped, and there wasn’t a chrono, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she repeated, trying to give him a stern glance and knowing she had failed miserably. How many eight-year-olds could have broken themselves out of whatever place the kidnappers had been keeping him and gotten away through the ventilation system?

Not many
, she thought.
Just Eryk Thorn’s son...and yours.

“Well,” she went on, “I think you should really get some sleep.”

“Mom!” Jerem groaned. “I don’t need to sleep. I’m fine—”

“Your mother’s right,” Thorn remarked. “It’s nineteen standard hours to Gaia. Plenty of time for you to sleep and still be awake when we make planetfall.”

Jerem still looked sulky, but after glancing from his father’s face to Miala’s, he appeared to realize he was outnumbered. He heaved an exaggerated sigh. “Fine. I’ll go lie down. But I won’t
sleep
.”

“Of course not,” Miala replied, trying not to smile. After everything he’d been through, Jerem would probably be asleep about five standard seconds after his head hit the lumpy pillow on Eryk Thorn’s cot. Then she asked, “Do you want me to come with you and tuck you in?”

“Mo-om!” Jerem protested, sounding more put out than ever. “I’m not a
baby
.”

After that Miala maintained a tactful silence, and waited behind Thorn’s seat while Jerem undid his restraints and then slid out of the copilot’s chair. Still with an aggrieved air that announced to everyone present he thought he was being woefully misused, Jerem stalked out of the cockpit and down the short corridor that led to the one passenger cabin on board.

After the door had shut behind him, Miala climbed into the seat he had just abandoned. For a few moments neither she nor Thorn said anything.

Then the mercenary commented, “He sounds fine.”

She turned and looked at him, this man who had taken her away from Iradia and who had helped her to conceive a son in a night of passion. He had rescued her once again on her home world and then come to her adoptive one, only to find a child whose existence he had never suspected—a son who could have been taken from him before they even came to know one another.
If Jerem’s father had been anyone but Eryk Thorn, he probably would be dead now
, she thought, and shivered a little.

“He is fine,” Miala replied. “He’s your son. To him this was probably all one big adventure.”

Thorn watched her for a moment, dark eyes opaque, unreadable. “And what was it for you?”

Good question, that. Moments of unspeakable terror, mixed with moments of impossible joy, the horror of Jerem’s kidnapping somehow made almost bearable by knowing that she didn’t have to face it alone, that Eryk Thorn was there to prop her up through all the doubt and worry and strain. She couldn’t even say she wished it had never happened, since it had brought Thorn back to her.

She said at last, “It was a chance for us to be a family.”

For a few seconds the mercenary said nothing. Then he reached out and laid his hand on top of hers, letting her feel the warmth and strength of his fingers. Somehow she still had difficulty believing he was really here, that he was taking her and Jerem to the homeland of his people. Such actions signaled a shift, she knew—Eryk Thorn had never allowed any associations, any connections other than the spurious ones that might come into being during his brief stints in the pay of one crime lord or another. He, the eternally rootless, appeared ready at last to reclaim his heritage.

Of this New Zealand she knew little, except that it had survived a good deal of Gaia’s ecological devastation because of its isolation. It sounded wild and desolate, although at least not as outwardly inhospitable as Iradia. Life there would not be one of comfort and luxury, unlike the one she had known on Nova Angeles.
But we can start fresh
, she thought, remembering the satchel she had brought on board and the riches it contained.
Fifteen million units is plenty to begin a new life.

She had hoped and dreamed through many long, lonely years that one day Thorn would return to her. It had never seemed possible that those dreams might actually come true. And now that they had, what else could she possibly want?

A sudden thought occurred to her, and her mouth curved in a smile.

“What are you plotting now?” Thorn inquired, eyebrow lifting.