The General's Daughter (Snow and Ash #1) (14 page)

“What you two talking about?” Randall slices off a piece of jerky with a long hunting knife.

“She’s tired,” Talon answers. He ambles over to the fire, and I try to get comfortable under the covers.

Talon crouches in front of the flames. “You guys got any news?”

Teeth Guy narrows his eyes. “What kinda news?”

“Anything, man. Is there any sign of government, have you seen any airplanes, is the sun shining somewhere and I just don’t know it?” Talon gives them a crooked smile.

“Ain’t no government,” Teeth spits.

“Ever heard of Tintangel? I keep hearing about it.” Talon is making a show of rolling a snowball back and forth between his hands, but by the set of his shoulders, I can tell he’s deeply interested in the answer.

Renegade Number Three scratches his beard and lumbers off into the dark. A moment later I hear peeing.

Randall snorts. “Same old, same old. People always talking about someplace better. Electricity, democracy, tons of food.”

He bites off a piece of that jerky, and I close my eyes. I really hope that’s an animal.

Talon nods. “So it’s just some bullshit town. I thought so.”

Teeth grunts his agreement, and Talon stands and tosses the snowball against a tree. “Bluefield’s definitely not America, but it’s got to be better than most places.”

“It’s not a town.” The pee-er is back. “Couple rumors have it that it’s some billionaire’s bio-dome. I’ve also heard it’s like Derinkuyu.”

Teeth Guy shakes his head and tosses the rest of his jerky into the fire.

“This guy here usta be a college professor.” The mocking note in Randall’s voice tells me he has no respect for the old-world profession.

“What’s a Derink—thing,” prompts Talon.

The pee-er professor rubs his head, his expression mild. “It was an underground city built by the ancients. Turkey, I think. They built it several stories into the ground, pure rock. Supposedly it was big enough to support thousands of people in comfort.”

An underground city. It sounds like an ant colony. I don’t mean to fall asleep, but I’ve been stressed out for hours, worrying about basically every aspect of my so-called life.

I’m dreaming about cannibals, and right as they’re getting ready to cut off my leg, I jerk awake. Talon is seated near my head, but he’s slumped over. I can’t blame him for falling asleep. What bothers me is the professor. He’s looking at Talon like he’s meat. His eyes flick to me, and the calculation in his expression is unmistakable. A second later he masks it with a smile.

Even though my breath stutters, I tip the corners of my mouth and close my eyes. Yeah, right, I’m going to sleep after that. I don’t know what that look meant, but it wasn’t anything good for Talon. Either they’re planning their next harvest, or they consider him unnecessary. Who knows? Maybe that includes me.

I have a hard time controlling my breath. I’m pretty sure my heart is beating so loud the professor can hear it all the way from across the fire. I take in a deep breath, ease out a sigh, and shift my position. Now I can reach Talon.

I wait, though. I figure the professor is watching everything. I count to three hundred and eighty-four before I hear the man get to his feet. My eyes fly open, and I see him retreat into the dark.

I smack Talon, and he jerks awake.

“Quiet,” I hiss.

He frowns, and his lips form words, but I interrupt him.

“I caught the professor eyeing you up. It’s like he was measuring how many steaks he’d get.” I shake my head. “The second you get a chance, you get the hell out of here.”

He squints. “Are you kidding? I’m not leaving you with these men.”

I open my mouth, but he doesn’t wait. “Your only chance is if I see you home.”

God help me. “My friend Vaughn, the one who made me go back to Dad’s in the first place?”

He gives a short nod. He frowns like
what does that have to do with anything?

“Dad shot him in the back of the head not five minutes after we got there.”

Talon recoils. “Didn’t he understand? You were friends. He helped you.”

“Oh, he understood. Vaughn knew the truth, where I’d been, what I’d been doing. It didn’t match Dad’s pretty story. Kill the witness; it didn’t happen.” I stare at him and wait for him to get it.

It doesn’t take long. He inhales and shakes his head. Worry lines crease his brow. “I’m not leaving without you.”

I peek into the darkness, but there’s no sign of the professor. “You let me worry about that. I’m valuable. They know that. Dad’ll take care of them when we get there.”

Still he shakes his head, his jaw set like it’s been sealed with Gorilla Glue.

“Get out of here by sunrise. It’s your only chance,” I hiss. I can’t go with him. I’ll just slow him down. If these guys don’t kill him, Dad definitely will.

Talon has to live. No other outcome is acceptable.

The creek of shoes against snow tells me the professor is near. I feign sleep, but I keep my eyes cracked.

The professor eases himself down and studies first Talon, then me, then back again. He pulls out his hunting knife and begins to sharpen it against a stone.

It’s just light enough to make out dim colors when a hand clamps over my mouth.

My muffled squeal sends Talon to his feet just in time for the professor and Teeth Guy to attack. In seconds, Talon deflects Teeth Guy, scores his knife, and plunges it straight down into the guy’s shoulder, right next to his neck. Instantly blood starts shooting and dripping, and Teeth Guy goes down.

Randall releases my mouth and yanks my hands around my back.

“Why?” Right, like I don’t know.

“We don’t need him.”

“He’s the heir!”

“My ass he’s the heir. Even if he is, only person that matters is you. Daddy’s little girl.”

I manage to wiggle one hand free, and I jam my fingers into his eyes.

Howling, he grabs his face, and I use the chance to scramble to my feet. I’m off.

Randall swears. I only get a couple yards before he catches me. He wraps an arm around my waist and presses his hunting knife to my throat.

Talon and the professor are really going at it. Swinging fists, hits below the belt, tear-your-limbs-off style fighting. Who would have thought some weenie teacher could put up a fight like this?

Then again, we’re three years past civilization. We’ve all learned a skill or two.

“Hey, asshole!” Randall calls.

But Talon and the professor are beyond hearing. Talon’s now up on the professor’s back, and I will him not to look my way. My only hope is if he kills the professor. Then he’ll at least have a chance against Randall. Talon has his arms tight around the professor’s neck like he’s trying to choke him. But the professor slams him back against a tree.

I feel the knife penetrate my skin, ever so slightly, and my heart beats as fast as a hummingbird’s wings. My breaths come in shallow gasps.

“Do I have to kill her?” Randall’s voice comes out louder, stronger this time, and the professor is distracted just enough that Talon gets a good hold of the guy’s head. Baring his teeth, he grunts and gives a violent twist. The distinct
crack
of a neck breaking nearly makes me vomit.

The professor goes down, Talon with him. Talon grabs the guy’s knife and scrambles to his feet. The second his eyes latch on to me, all movement stops.

“That’s right, Talon,” says Randall.

“Let her go.” Talon’s voice is flat. Dead. His face has no expression. There is no evidence in him of the panic that’s stealing my air.

Randall gives an arrogant cock to his head. “You drop that knife, or I’ll cut her—”

I stomp down hard on his instep, and I ram my elbow into his solar plexus. Eighth-grade self-defense for girls. He swears, and his grip on the knife loosens. I wrench myself free, and with a sob, I take off for Talon.

Something sears me in the back. Hard. For a second I can’t move, and Talon’s eyes go wild.

His lips draw back like a feral dog’s. Talon lunges for Randall. He hits him so hard the other man flies a good five feet to my left and goes down with a grunt.

I think Randall’s knifed me in the back. I can’t move, can’t even suck the air necessary to scream. My whole existence is now defined by agony.

Talon’s busy pounding Randall’s head into the ground. Over and over he pounds him, and I hear the other guy whimper.

Or maybe that’s me.

I’m bleeding. I can feel it. My clothes are slick with it, and I’m starting to feel light-headed. Knife in my back equals scared beyond belief, and I can’t help it. I start a weird, keening sort of cry. Halfway between a sob and a wail.

I never knew anything could hurt this badly. Until this moment I didn’t know pain could exist on this level. I wilt down as far as my knees, then onto all fours. Every movement is agony. He’s hit more than muscle. He’s hit
something
. I never did take anatomy, but there’s a ton of junk in there, and he’s found at least one of the important parts.

My breaths come shallow and fast, and my head feels lighter, lighter. I’m either panicking or I’m bleeding to death, and
no!
I don’t want to die.

I bring Talon back into focus.
 
It takes only a slight turn of my head. I’m just in time to see him swing a branch thick as an arm at Randall’s head.

Randall goes down, and Talon brings the branch down for a final crushing blow. The guy doesn’t even twitch.

“Ilsa!” Talon drops the branch and dashes to my side.

“Am I going to die?” I ask.
Please say no. Please hold me.

“No,” he says, but his voice is shaking. “No, you’re not.”

He fiddles with the knife, and I cry out.

“Sorry, sorry. I’m just looking. That’s all.”

There’s nothing he can do for me.

“Get out of here, Talon. Take one of those things and go.” I squeeze back sobs, and it’s getting harder to form distinct words.

Without warning, he gives the knife a yank. It’s like I’ve been bitten by a Tyrannosaurus rex, and I scream.

“Don’t you dare take me to Dad’s. Leave me,” I say once I can breathe again.

He kisses me. “I will never leave you. You’re mine now, remember?”

He’s going to die. So am I. I squeeze my eyes shut against the pain, both inside and out.

“Fuck!” He lets go of me and kicks a clump of snow. He runs his hands through his hair and kicks more snow. “Fuck!”

I feel like a demon’s chewing its way out of my torso. If I could unclench my jaw, I’d be screaming right now. I pray to God, please, that he’ll let me pass out.

Talon works swiftly, combining gas and gathering up supplies. Then he reaches for me, and the second he picks me up, my jaws unlock and I sear my vocal cords.
Oh God, oh God, oh God!

He sets me down straddling the front section of the snowmobile, and mounts up behind me. He fixes it so he’s secured me in place with his legs, his arms, his all-of-him. I lean back against him even though it hurts. I need him.

“Promise me,” I mutter. My head lolls back. I’m losing it again, but I have to tell him. “You’re all I have left.”

He smooths the hair back from my face, puts the hat over my head, and starts the engine.

We’re off, full throttle. If Talon wasn’t hanging on to me, I’d fly off into some crevasse and never be seen again. I feel weak and sick to my stomach, and every bump sends a fresh claw of pain through me.

“You hanging in there?” Talon shouts over the noise of the engine.

I try to nod, but we’ve just tossed over another bump so I doubt it looks any different from the jerking head bobs of the last hour.

The motor stutters. Cursing, Talon pulls to a stop and cuts the engine. He wastes no time refueling the tank before remounting behind me.

I can hardly pry my jaws apart to speak. “Leave me at the intersection of Clearfork Road and Route 662. Four quick shots, wait, then two slow. It’s a signal. Then get out of there.”

“Sure.” He secures me in place and restarts the engine.

I feel like I’m going to throw up. Either that or faint. Convincing Talon to give up his plans for me and get the hell out has drained every wave of energy I have left.

Fainting wins out over puking.

The next time Talon stops the engine, I hardly care. I’m so, so sick. I can hardly take in air, it hurts so much. But I hear engines, and I smell French fries.

Corn fuel.

With difficulty, I raise my head, and I’m greeted by six rifle barrels. I see a familiar pair of green eyes.

“Not…dead,” I wheeze.

Garrett lifts a shoulder. “Demoted.”

I try to smile, but I fail. I open my mouth, but all that comes out is something between a squeak and a moan.

“She’s hurt, bad.” Talon’s voice has gone dead again. He must really be worried. “Knife to the back. Kidney maybe. You don’t get her to a hospital, she’s dead.”

“Who are you?” Garrett asks.