Condemned (Death Planet Book 1) (24 page)

“I'll do my best.”

“He'll bitch about you too, if it’s another fucking princess.”

Furball rubbed her own stomach. “I want to have a baby, but Dad won't let me marry anyone. He says I just have to wait until he finds the right man.”

Bianca laughed. “He told me he'd make you marry the Brain, if you don't shut up about it.”

“Oh, fuck. Anyone but that.”

Bianca grabbed another ball from the bowl. “It's alright. The Brain’s too smart to marry someone who looks like a dog.”

She nodded toward the crowd as she bit a chunk from the ball. “The cat down there might not mind. He's furry, too.”

Furball shoved Bianca. “I am not a dog.”

“Am too.”

“Am not.”

The scruffy-furred black panther hybrid down below stared at Princess with squinty eyes. She huffed and looked away. Then glanced back. He was still staring. She leaned forward slightly, so the front of her dress fell away from her chest, then to the left, so her breasts swung beneath it. She twisted further, until her nipple poked out between the two sides of the dress. It was fat and stiff in the cool morning air.

The hybrid grinned a twisted grin from one sharp, tearing tooth on the left of his mouth, to the gap where the other should be on the right. Imagine those big, black, muscular arms holding down your naked body, while those sharp teeth nipped at your nipples. Princess looked away, and smirked to herself as she swung her legs below the seat. A drone buzzed in to get a better look. Who knows why, because they'd seen absolutely everything she had to show when they were recording the King's bedroom last night.

Let the panther look. Let them all look. Let them see exactly what the King was getting in his bed. And dream that they were, too.

She leaned back. This was the life. Everything she'd ever wanted. Except for the mud, and the stench, and the hole for a toilet. The others might call it Hades, but it was heaven for her.

Particularly the way the panther stared at her.

K
eys rattled in the lock, then it clunked open. Daniel leaned up on his straw bed, holding his side when the rib stabbed him with pain. Or maybe it was more than one rib. He ached in so many places, he could hardly tell.

Liam's face leaned around the door, He smiled, exposing his yellow teeth. “Good news, boy.”

“What?” Had Guy started the Revolution? Perhaps taken over already? Was he being rescued?

Liam laughed. “You're about to die in the Brawl.”

“What's good about that?”

“It'll be quick.” Liam ran a finger across his neck. “One slash of the jugular, and you'll be dead before you know it. Better than being buggered to death by Hounds.”

Daniel’s stomach turned at the thought. Who could even think of doing something like that? “I demand trial by combat. Against the King.”

It worked in the VR games he’d played at home. Why not here? Of course, he’d probably still die, even if he won, but at least he’d have a chance to kill the King first. It had to be better than being killed like a wild animal. Or by animals.

“Boy, you are as guilty as a dog that just shat on my face.”

“I still demand trial by combat.”

“Besides, the King doesn't do that shit.”

“Is he scared of me?”

Liam laughed so loud that his cackles echoed back from the corridor outside, and were soon joined by laughter from the prisoners. He turned to the door. “Shut the fuck up!”

The prisoners’ noise died away, and Liam turned back. “He'd squish you like a bug. He just doesn't doesn't believe anyone who crosses him deserves a fair fight. Fucking right, if you ask me.”

He grabbed Daniel's arm and pulled him to his feet. Daniel tried to pull it away. Liam’s hip turned toward him, the sword only inches from his fingers. Maybe Daniel could stab him, then get to the King? He reached for the hilt.

Liam punched him in the stomach, and he doubled up, retching. His legs gave way, but Liam pulled his arm harder.

“Come on, kid. The King'll be pissed if I have to kill you before you get to the Brawl.”

Daniel stumbled behind him, out of the cell and along the dark corridors, twisting and turning around the junctions. Rats scuttled aside, from the dim pools of orange torchlight into the shadows between. Eyes stared from the windows in the cell doors, and cackling laughter came from others.

A thin, calloused hand reached through the bars and grabbed for Daniel's arm. “I'll have some of that.”

Liam smacked the hand aside, and pulled Daniel away. Then up the steps at the end of the corridor. Daniel's good eye burned as Liam opened the thick, metal-bound wooden door, and the early morning light shone in. He closed both eyes, and felt the sun on his skin for the first time in hours.

Voices yattered around him. People brushed against him as Liam dragged him onward. The smell of sweaty bodies filled his nostrils. Daniel opened his eyes, blinking until he adjusted to the light. He was back in the courtyard, outside the gate to the tower, but now it was full of people. Dozens lounged on benches that rose in rows in the grandstand near the wall, and dozens more, maybe hundreds, milled around the dirt, or leaned over the walls of the arena, looking in. Some stared at his naked body, as Liam dragged him past the grandstand.

The King sat in a cloud of smoke, in a box at the centre of the benches. Guards surrounded him, and two girls sat in front, pointing at Daniel, and laughing. The blue-haired girl from the pod sat beside the King, wearing a dress that would barely have covered anything, even if she wasn't leaning forward as though she didn't realize that her breasts were hanging out of it. They wobbled with every move she made, while she swung her legs so the skirt slid up and down her thighs. Whoever she was back home, she seemed to have found a place for herself on Hades.

The smell of burning meat reached Daniel as Liam dragged him toward the wooden wall of the arena. Food stalls stretched along the outside wall of the courtyard. At the largest stall, meat sizzled on a grill over an open fire. Two Guards grabbed a man's body by the ankles at the arena entrance, and dragged it across the dirt to the stall. The head was smashed, and the arms trailed behind it, red at the ends where the hands had once been. The severed wrists left trails of blood in the dirt.

As they reached the stall, a wide, muscular man took the body from them, wrapped a rope around its ankles, and tossed the other end over a metal rod above the stall. He hauled on the rope until the body swung free below the rod. Then he cut the cords holding the man’s leather armour, and pulled it away. The body dangled, naked, alongside another, whose belly hung open. A man wearing a blood-stained apron pulled out the guts, and tossed them to a pair of hounds chained by the stall.

Men sparred in front of Daniel, with swords, knives, and their bare hands. Most laughed, as though it was just a friendly match, others glared at each other with hate-filled eyes. A tall blond man lunged with his sword outstretched toward a dark-skinned man half his size. The other man dodged, and the blond grunted with wide eyes as a sword burst from his back, splattering blood across the cheering crowd.

The dark-skinned man laughed, pulled his sword from the dying man's stomach, then grabbed the chain attached to the neck of a brown-haired, naked girl and pulled her toward him. The crowd cheered louder as he pulled her head down, planted a sloppy kiss on her lips, and squeezed her bare ass.

Why couldn’t Guy have sent Daniel in now? He could have sneaked through the crowd, rather than having to get through the gates into the tower. But he’d still be no closer to the King, with all the Guards around the grandstand. It had been a crazy idea, all along. He was lucky to have got as close as he did.

A drone buzzed down and stared into Daniel's face. Was that Guy's? No, it had six fans, not four, and more cameras. He looked around. Was that Guy's face in the crowd, watching him? Duh, two eyes, not one. Guy would have run for the hills when the plan went wrong.

No, he'd come back. He would. He'd at least try to rescue Daniel. He'd already rescued him once, after all.

He'd come. He had to.

Just hold on long enough for him to get there.

G
uy draped his left arm over the side of Moses' boat, and let his fingers dangle in the cool water that sparkled in the morning sun. With the weight of the cargo, the sides were only a few inches above the surface. The wood of the boat creaked beneath him, and the slaves grunted as they worked the oars. Kingston was now miles behind them, as they floated downstream. By tomorrow, he’d be heading along the coast, well ahead of the King and his men. Even if they’d discovered the theft, and had any idea of who did it, and where he went... he’d be gone.

And, fuck, maybe the dumb kid actually did manage to kill that bastard. Didn't seem likely, but he couldn't put it past the little shit. Who'd suspect the boy? He might have got lucky.

Guy's drone hovered high above the river behind them. No-one was following, as far as it could see, except for a hauler pulling a cart on the riverbank. And the boat was pulling away as the slaves rowed with the current, not against it this time.

Moses settled beside him, with a mug of wine. “So, where’s your little boyfriend?”

“Didn’t work out. You know how it is with boys.”

“Shame. I was really looking forward to seeing him again.”

Even if the kid hadn’t managed to blow himself up, the King would make short work of him. “I don’t think there’s much chance of that.”

Moses sipped the wine. “He’s found another love, already? That’s been the story of my life. They want me when I have shinies, and move on when I don’t.”

Guy leaned back, and closed his eyes as the sun warmed his face. He wriggled into the most comfortable spot on the padded seat. “It’s a hard life.”

“Odd, though.”

“That too.”

“No, this trip is odd. I never took you for a religious man.”

“Twenty years on Hades should be more than enough to drive any man to religion. I just want a break, somewhere quiet to relax for a while. Maybe I won’t want to leave.”

More importantly, the monks were the most likely to offer him a good deal for the Brain, or to put him in touch with someone who would. The King wasn’t the only one who wanted technology. If they couldn’t do it, well, he’d have to head to Over The Sea. Whatever happened, he wasn't going back to Kingston again. He'd spent a lot of time there, had some good fun, good times. He’d miss it, after all those years.

Just not very much.

Something scratched from inside the wooden crate. A drone buzzed over the boat, and circled around the crate, recording.

Moses glanced toward the crate. “Do you have some kind of animal in there?”

It scratched again. The Brain was smart enough not to want to give himself away, so it was probably that damn spider. Why couldn’t he have left it back in the castle? It would have been happy down in the cells, in the damp and dark, building webs, catching Guards, and eating them. Most of them deserved to have their insides dissolved in spider acid, then sucked out.

“Probably a rat.”

Moses grimaced. “Didn’t you even check before you sealed the crate?”

“Fucking things can get in anywhere. You must have had a few on here in your time.”

“The monks actually keep their place clean, not like the shit-heads in Kingston. I’ve never found a rat in my shipments.”

It scratched again. Come on, Brain, keep the damn thing under control. Moses leaned forward and tapped the side of the crate. The scratching returned, louder.

“Perhaps we should open it?”

Guy pulled his hand away. “Perhaps not.”

“But what if it’s eating your precious... whatever it is? Do you want to travel all this way, and find nothing left when you get there?”

If the spider had lived in the dark cell with the Brain for so many years, it wasn’t likely to start eating him now. Was it? Oh, now that would be one fucking big surprise for everyone. Get to the monastery, open the crate, and the Brain's just a mummified body with one fat-as s spider crouched on his chest.

You'd have to laugh.

Guy leaned back again. “I’ll take the risk.”

“Well, don’t blame me if I have to say I told you so.” Moses twisted around and peered downriver. He nudged Guy. “Isn’t that one of your friends?”

Someone tall, dark and ugly stood in the middle of the bridge. He stared at them with big, black eyes. Guy nodded, slowly. Red, that fucker. What was he doing out there?

Red untied his leather trousers, and let them drop to the deck of the bridge. Something long, black and cylindrical flopped down between his legs, like a limp sausage. Moses stared at it as Red moved his feet on the logs, and it swung from side to side, dangling between his knees.

Moses stared at it. “My. Perhaps I shouldn’t have escaped. I could suck on that chew toy all day.”

Then Red grabbed his dick with both hands, and held it up over the edge of the bridge. He aimed it at the boat, and a big smile spread across his face.

“Oh, crap,” Guy said.

T
he panther hybrid fought in the wooden-walled arena in the centre of the crowd. Princess leaned further forward as she watched. The way his muscles moved beneath the dark, furry skin... don’t even think of his naked body moving on hers, his fur rubbing against her soft, girlie skin. Then that big, wide tongue lapping at her body, and exploring her mouth.

Her cheeks grew hot. No, she shouldn't—couldn't—think like that any more. She was the King's girl now. She'd fill his bed, have his babies, and sit beside him, so men like the panther could only stare and wish they had her.

But, damn, he was hot. If only he was the king, instead.

A drone buzzed toward the King's face. He swatted it away with a metal-clad hand. “Which do you think will win, girl?”

The panther swung a short sword in one paw, and used his own sharp claws as a backup weapon. The man he fought had a shield and axe, but none of the grace the hybrid's cat genes gave him. There was power behind the axe, big muscles on the arms, but not so much skill. While the panther simply stepped aside and dodged the blow, the axeman swung wildly, and his face was covered with sweat below his helmet.