I scrambled to my feet, scooping up the Kheerzu sniper rifle in my left hand and the Colt revolver in my right, and sprinted for the exit.
Behind me, her laspistols went pheew, pheew, covering my retreat. The barking orders of the camo-clad hunters and the ponderous whir of the Threezens’ miniguns echoed over the din. Lasfire exploded against the walls as I dashed forward, the metallic doors ahead hissing and beginning to slide apart as their proximity sensors picked up my approach.
Suddenly, the doors stopped, leaving only a few feet of space between them.
“I’m sorry, old friend.”
Chester’s voice came from the speakers mounted above the exit, his synthetic tone apologetic.
“There is no escape for you here.”
And the doors began to close.
“Damn it!” I swore, springing forward. A glance over my shoulder confirmed the woman couldn’t make it in time. My throat burned as I called back to her.
“The doors!”
She spun, braid whipping around her head, and swore.
“Get through!” she yelled, twisting back to fire a few more shots.
I dashed for the narrowing gap, but they were too far.
Three feet… Two feet… One foot…
With a desperate surge, I hurled the sniper rifle between the closing doors. The carbon-based handguard clattered along the floor, wedging itself between the steel plates.
Crunch.
The doors ground to a halt, caught on the rifle. Just a few inches of space remained, but it was enough.
Skidding to a stop before them, I reached for my hip and ripped Lilith from her sheath.
Nice of you to invite m—
“I need you. I need your strength. Now!”
Lilith took in everything in a split second. Maybe she’d been watching the entire time—honestly, I still didn’t know how much she actually saw. She gave a silent nod of agreement, and as the stock of the rifle buckled under the strain, I gripped her hilt in a white-knuckled fist. Power surged through me.
I wrapped my off-hand around the edge of the door and wedged the heel of my right boot against the opposite side. My breath caught in my chest, and I shoved.
“Aaaaaaaargh!”
The strain ripped the air from my lungs, muscles screaming in protest. The hydraulics driving the blast doors were powerful, but I couldn’t let agony paralyze me.
It was me against the pistons.
And I was winning.
The doors groaned under the colossal strength coursing through me. For that moment, I was nothing but a vessel for Lilith’s power.
Her inky presence seeped through the soulbinding, coiling around the edges of my mind. The sensation made my stomach churn—like black, oily tar rising up my throat.
But there was no time to dwell on it. Gritting my teeth, I shoved harder, the gap widening.
Lilith poured everything into me, expending energy leeched from the god we’d killed.
I glanced back to see the red-haired woman sprinting toward me, vaulting over the fallen Kheerzu. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of something over her shoulder.
Watcher stepped out from behind Chester’s kiosk, pistol leveled at her back. His round mouth opened and closed, sending out a sonic pulse to pinpoint her position.
Oh, crap.
He fired.
“Dive!” I yelled.
She ducked her head and leapt forward, tackling me through the doorway just as the searing bolt flashed past inches above my head.
We crashed to the ground. The doors slammed shut behind us with a thunderous clang.
The woman landed on my back, the butt of one of her pistols stabbing into the burn on my shoulder. Pain shot through me, my vision flashing white.
I groaned, spitting out a shaky breath. Lilith had clattered to the floor, just inches from my hand. Yet, for the first time I could remember, I still felt her presence in my mind.
Not good, I thought.
Au contraire… Lilith murmured, a faint smirk in her tone.
No time to process that. The woman was already on her feet, scanning the corridor for threats.
For the moment, we were alone. The lasfire on the other side of the door had gone quiet.
“Well, well, Lucian… Très bien,” Chester’s voice came through speakers mounted above the entrance, his synthetic tone tinged with surprise. “Still, you can’t get far.”
Crack. Crack.
I twisted onto my back, revolver snapping up. Two chambers emptied into the speakers, sending sparks flying.
“Damn you, Chester,” I growled.
The crimson-haired woman turned to me, sliding one of her Tributes into a thigh holster. She offered her hand, her voice crisp and businesslike. “Up you get.”
I grabbed Lilith, thrust her into her sheath, and let the woman haul me to my feet. My muscles burned, my shoulder screamed, and the laser wound pulsed with every breath.
“Who are you?” I grunted, my gaze darting over her. Red leather body armor, twin holsters, emerald eyes in a pale, striking face. If she was a bounty hunter, she wasn’t one I recognized.
She shook her head. “No time. As far as you’re concerned, angel, I’m the only person in this station who doesn’t want you dead.”
Angel. The word wasn’t affectionate. She knew what I was.
I started to speak, but she cut me off with a sharp gesture. “No questions. Action.”
Behind us, the doors began to squeal open, millimeter by millimeter. I must have damaged the mechanisms when I held them apart. By now, at least a dozen bounty hunters were probably piling in on the other side.
“Fine,” I said sharply, then promptly asked a question. “Where are we going?”
She was already running, braid bouncing against her back as she held her laspistol in both hands. “My ship!”
I stood there a moment, watching the way her leather pants fit, then shook myself. Not the time, I scolded. But damn…
Groaning, I bounded after her.
We raced down the long tunnel, the screeching of the slowly opening door echoing after us. I had no idea where we were heading—hadn’t even known there were docking bays on this level. Our feet pounded against the smooth white floor, each step lancing pain through my frame.
I could help with that, Lilith suggested mildly.
I snarled internally. Bad enough having a demon soulbound to my sword. Now I have to deal with her somehow stuck in my head?
You’re welcome, she huffed, retreating with an air of wounded pride.
We rounded a corner, and the woman stopped abruptly. One side of this secondary corridor was all windows, showing the endless expanse of space beyond Clarion’s branching arms. Stars twinkled in the void.
The other side was plain white paneling—except for a large rectangular section, melted and blasted through. The metal lay on its side, edges charred and jagged.
Footsteps pounded behind us, accompanied by the shouts of hunters coordinating their pursuit. They were minutes away at most.
The woman’s shoulders tensed, her laspistol held ready.
“What is it?” I demanded.
“Something’s not right,” she said quietly, her eyes scanning the hallway. She froze. “Where are my tools?”
A man-sized figure stepped out of the hole in the wall, clad in lacquered white armor with a close-faced helmet. In his gauntleted hand, he held a black cylinder, his thumb resting on the red button at one end.
My stomach dropped. Ghost Squadron.
The soldier flinched in surprise as his helmeted gaze landed on us. For a split second, time froze.
Then he dropped the cylinder, hand clawing for the pistol at his hip.
The woman moved faster, snapping off three shots with her Tribute laspistol.
I blinked. Damn, she’s fast.
But instead of cratering his torso, the crimson projectiles only scorched his pale chestplate, leaving blackened marks. The Ghost stumbled back and fell to the floor.
The black cylinder spun to a stop at his feet, and his pistol skittered out of reach behind him. His helmet turned, torn between the detonator and his gun.
He dove.
I recognized the cylinder immediately. Detonator. Somewhere behind that wall, there was a bomb waiting to go off.
I was already moving.
My revolver barked twice, its final rounds pounding into the soldier. The first hit his shoulder, spinning him away from the detonator. The second slammed into his chestplate, caving the metal inward with a crack that signaled broken ribs beneath.
He staggered but didn’t stop. One boot slammed down on the detonator as he lunged forward.
I reacted instinctively. My other foot swung up, catching him under the chin with inhuman force. His head snapped back, and he went limp, fingers twitching uselessly.
The woman bounded past him, disappearing through the hole in the wall. I followed, striding over the fallen soldier just in time to see her blanch.
“What is it?” I asked, stepping beside her.
My breath caught.
There were no docking bays this low. Instead, we were staring into an airlock. Her ship was clamped to the station’s side, and she’d carved her way in through the wall.
Tools were scattered along the floor—a heavy-duty blowtorch still glowing faintly, a hacksaw, and a discarded canister with an aerosol nozzle.
Blinking red on the airlock door was a small black antenna, sunk into a neat square of gummy white explosive putty.
My hands moved automatically, reaching into the inner pocket of my robe. I pulled out a box of cartridges and started thumbing shells into my Colt’s cylinder. The revolver had been modified for cartridges rather than black powder, allowing me to reload quickly.
Click. Click.
I finished loading just as the pounding footsteps drew closer. Hunters were seconds away.
The woman had already turned to the airlock, punching a code into its keypad. A heavy-duty lock disengaged with a clunk, and the door swung open.
She glanced back. “Come on! If we leave now, we’ll get out of range of the detonator.”
I turned to follow, but a sound stopped me.
A groan.
The Ghost soldier was moving, dragging himself across the floor on his stomach. My kick had only stunned him—his helmet had absorbed the worst of it.
Ghost Squadron didn’t recruit locally. They were a truly interstellar organization, blending the best soldiers from across species and planets. Worse, they had the funding to outfit their operatives with top-of-the-line armor and tech.
The soldier was scrabbling for the detonator.
I raised my revolver.
The muzzle centered on the Ghost’s head as he suddenly flipped onto his back, and my silver eyes widened. In both gauntleted hands, he clutched the black cylinder.
Shit.
I snapped the Colt’s barrel downward, my finger squeezing the trigger. The shot tore through his flexible throat guard, but his thumb still depressed the red button.
“Damn you, angel…” he gurgled, blood pooling in his mouth. His hand relaxed, releasing the switch.
Beep. Beep. Beepbeepbeepbeepbeep.
“Shit,” I hissed through gritted teeth.
Behind me, I heard the woman’s soft, sighing curse and the sound of the airlock door slamming shut.
I barely managed to whip around and press myself against the wall before a massive tongue of fire erupted from the breach.
I wasn’t ready.
The explosion hurled me a dozen feet down the corridor, flames licking hungrily at the glass wall opposite. I skidded across the floor, ears ringing and back screaming in fresh agony.
I staggered to my feet, slumping against the wall as I stumbled toward the smoking hole where my only ally had just been blasted to pieces.
Then came the pounding of boots behind me.
Spinning, I saw one of the camo-clad mercenaries appear around the bend, rifle already raised. A spray of lasfire hissed across the corridor, forcing me to dive backward. I rolled into the blasted opening just as white-hot bolts raked the floor and walls.
The floor beneath my robes was still hot, and the air thinned by the second. I crouched, stock-still, stunned by the sight before me.
The outer hull of the Clarion had been blasted open, leaving a jagged hole gaping into the vacuum of space. The explosion’s force had already snuffed the flames, and the station’s temperature was plummeting.
Elsewhere, a loud siren wailed, accompanied by flashing red lights that painted the corridor in chaos.
Hovering twenty yards beyond the breach was a bloodred ship, sharp and aggressive, like a bird of prey. In the ruined airlock stood the crimson-haired woman, respirator pressed to her face as she beckoned wildly with her free hand.
Her meaning was clear. She wanted me to jump.
Time slowed.
An ordinary human could survive maybe fifteen seconds in space—if they were lucky. Even then, they’d lose consciousness, asphyxiate, or worse. The vacuum of space could rupture their lungs, boil their blood, and render them dead within moments.
But I wasn’t ordinary. My body could endure temperature and pressure extremes, and I could survive without oxygen for long spans.
Yet my legs wobbled. My vision blurred.
It wasn’t the vacuum that terrified me. It was the drop.
Back when I’d had my wings, I’d been fearless. Heights had held no sway over me. I could stand on the highest towers of Aeos without a second thought.
But now?
I hesitated.
The temperature continued to fall, and the shouting of bounty hunters grew louder in the corridor.
Then Lilith’s voice slipped into my mind.
I can do it.
What? I demanded, fingers clutching a jagged pipe jutting from the soot-blackened wall.
I can make the jump, she said, her tone unusually gentle. Let me take control.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn’t trust her. She was a demon—deception was her nature. I didn’t even fully understand her offer.
I didn’t care.
With a slow sigh, I closed my eyes.
Do it.
Through my boots, I felt the vibrations of heavy footfalls, the electric tang of blaster fire biting into the walls. The pain in my back screamed at me to stop.
Then, everything went black.
It wasn’t the tarry, invasive blackness of Lilith’s power. It was calm. Quiet.
Somewhere, far away, my body moved outside my control. I ignored it, trusting Lilith—hoping she’d take care of everything.
Light returned, and I blinked.
I was standing at the edge of the bloodred spacecraft, inside the half-destroyed airlock. Beyond the jagged opening, debris from the explosion floated in a halo, and below, the green planet stretched into the black void of space.
The crimson-haired woman stood inside the inner airlock, green eyes wide with urgency.
See? Lilith murmured, calm and smug.
I shook my head, shoving the thought aside. We’ll talk later.
The outer airlock door hung below us, torn free by the explosion. Somehow, the blast had been directed with precision, ripping the door from its hinges without damaging the rest of the ship.
I strode forward, meeting the woman’s gaze through the thick porthole.
“Get in!” she ordered, slamming the Open button and stopping it just wide enough for me to squeeze through.
I slid inside, and the door clunked shut behind me. Armor plating began to slide across the gaping hole, sealing the broken airlock.
“Gods,” she muttered, running a hand through her hair, fingers tangling in her braid. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
I slumped against the wall, sliding down until my knees curled to my chest. My robes tangled around me, and my Colt hung heavy in my hand, still reassuringly solid.
I gripped it tighter, staring into nothing as the cold truth settled over me.
Someone is trying to kill me.
And they’d just placed the biggest bounty in the universe on my head.