Shattered Soul Page 2

  They were greeted with a blast of warmth, heavy music, the smell of cooking food, and the rise and fall of voices laughing and talking. Many of the hard-eyed hunters looked up and greeted Abra’s pack.

  The clothes of the bounty hunters in the Hole were as varied as the hunters h="the hunthemselves but all carried the same kind of weapons—daggers, swords and lasers, and more than a few bullwhips were coiled at waists.

  Vane, Menac, Jarvis and Nat peeled away from Abra and Ricna and headed for the bar to greet some of their friends.

  “Abra!” A rough, hard-eyed bounty hunter with a flashing gold tooth gestured to him.

  “Creed.” Abra raised his hand in greeting.

  Ricna’s tanned features lost the tightness as he and Abra approached the table. “How’s life…Dad?”

  Creed’s brow darkened. “Listen, it’s bad enough that Des’s damned Daamen trader calls me that - ”

  “I think it’s sweet.” He batted his eyelashes.

  “That bastard just looks at me with that quiet smile of his.” Creed took a deep draught of his ale. “I’d bash his face in for him if...”

  “You weren’t so scared that giant would drag you face first through the mud then hang you up to dry?”

  A smug look crossed Creed’s craggy face. “He wouldn’t dare hurt his father-by-marriage. My Des would protect me.”

  “Des would be a little hard-pressed to know who to hit first, wouldn’t she?” Abra drawled, sitting down opposite his friend. “Or is she too busy in the Security now to worry about that kind of thing?”

  “Hell, she’d probably get Sabra to sort you two out.” Ricna laughed.

  “Des loves her daddy,” Creed replied, a softening to his normally hard eyes. “And Simon treats her like fragile glass, so I guess I can hold back on trying to wipe the floor with that trader.”

  Ricna gave a snort of laughter.

  Creed gave him one steely look then turned his attention to Abra. “I heard you had a lucrative trip.”

  “Yeah.” Abra looked up at the tavern wench who was waiting for his order. “Hot una and a bowl of stew.”

  “Same,” Ricna said when she looked at him.

  She sent him a wink and left with a saucy sway of her hips.

  Creed shook his head. “Are there any whores who don’t love you?”

  “I can’t help it if I’m so handsome.”

  “Yeah, well hunters shouldn’t be handsome.”

  “Jealous, Creed?”

  “Look at your boss.” Creed pointed at Abra. “No one could love that face except his mother.”

  Mildly amused, Abra leaned back in the chair.

  “You’ll hurt his feelings,” Ricna said.

  “Have to have feelings for them to be hurt,” Creed replied. “Hard face, hard man, hard job. Not a sissy looking piece like you.”

  “Why, Creed, duckie.” Ricna placed one hand on his chest. “I didn’t know you noticed my sweet looks. I’m flattered.”

  Creed gestured rudely.

  “After maybe.” Ricna made kissy sounds. “Right now, I’m looking for female company. If I ever get desperate, though—”

  “I’ll never be that desperate,” Creed informed him. “I’ve gone months without a woman. I can last.”

  “Ooohhh.” Ricna shuddered in mock deliciousness. “All that testoy, l that sterone built up. Oh my, Creed, you just do it for me!”

  “Your man is seriously crapped,” Creed informed Abra.

  “I know,” Abra said.

  “How the hell do you handle him on the ship?”

  “Lock him in his cabin with dirty pictures, a tube of lube and a glove.”

  Creed’s gold tooth flashed as he grinned lopsidedly.

  Abra nodded to the tavern wench as she reappeared with a tray and put the bowl of stew and mug of una down in front of him. She did it without even glancing at him for her attention was focused on Ricna.

  More than used to the tavern wenches ogling his handsome pack member, Abra got on with eating, swallowing the not-quite hot food with relish, sighing inwardly as it chased the cold away.

  Ricna flirted with the tavern wench, sending her away with a promise to accompany her to a room upstairs once he’d eaten. Then he set to, enjoying his meal with gusto.

  “Sad.” Creed shook his head. “Very sad.”

  Ricna grinned.

  The next hour passed pleasantly as Abra relaxed, enjoying the banter that went with chatting with good friends. Ricna disappeared upstairs with his wench, and Van and Menac soon disappeared upstairs as well.

  The talk switched from women to outlaws, to home and the fastest, most reliable ships available as other hunters came and went at the table.

  The chill wind and scent of rain came through the door as hunters entered and left the Hole. Abra didn’t take notice when it opened yet again, but he did look up when a heavy-set man with a scar running down one side of his face took the empty chair next to him.

  “Falyon.” He nodded.

  “Abra,” Falyon rumbled in his deep voice. “Creed.”

  “How’s it going?” Creed greeted him.

  “Interesting. Very interesting.” Falyon turned to Abra. “I have some something you might be interested in.”

  Abra raised one brow. “Oh?”

  Reaching into his jacket pocket, Falyon withdrew a photo image and handed it to him. “Here.”

  For several seconds Abra wasn’t sure what he was looking at but then he blinked and held it up higher, gazing intently at it. Surprise raked through him. He looked at Falyon. “What the hell...?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Picking up Abra’s half-full mug of una, Falyon took a sip. “Ugh. Where’s the sugar in this?”

  “A real man doesn’t need sugar,” Creed informed him, while putting four heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his own steaming cup.

  “So what’s that you’re doing?”

  “I’m so hard, I need a bit of softening up.”

  Falyon snorted.

  Creed looked curiously at Abra, but Abra returned his gaze to the photo image to make sure he’d seen correctly.

  Shooting stars of Cyron. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Two women, one kneeling with a coating of red on her vest. Her head was tipped forward, the long hair so dark a red as to almost be black, partly obscuring her face. The other woman was turned partially towards her, her sword frozen in place, her gaze horrified, shocked. Her almost white brp.ost whiaid hung over one bloody arm.

  But they were stunningly beautiful, and both were dressed in clothes Abra knew so well. Knew because he’d hunted their kind years ago, knew because their kind was now walking free.

  The photo image didn’t allow a clear view of the two women but he didn’t have to look too hard to make out their clothes. Their long legs were encased in rawhide boots strapped up to the knees and they wore short leather skirts and tightly laced, sleeveless, leather bodices. A wide silver band encircled their left upper arms and even though he couldn’t make it out, he knew they each had small silver hoops piercing their ears, two in the left and four in the right.

  He knew because the two women he was looking at were Reeka warrior women. Injured, bloody, and obviously captured on image at one exact second.

  One second when one was mortally injured and the other horrified.

  Abra looked at Falyon. “Reekas?”

  “Yeah.” Falyon took another swallow of the una.

  “Reekas?” Creed looked sharply at Abra.

  Abra looked back down at the image photo, this time studying the surroundings. Rock was falling, dust rising. A cave-in somewhere. A cave-in and two warriors.

  This wasn’t good. Interesting, but not good.

  Handing the photo image to Creed, Abra looked at Falyon. “Where did you take this? What happened?”

  “I didn’t take it.” Falyon motioned to a serving wench. “It was taken by a bounty hunter during a hunt.”

  “A hunt?” Abra frowned. “So this
was taken what—eleven or more years ago? The Reekas were pardoned eleven years ago.” A sudden thought struck him. “Unless a couple have gone rogue?”

  “No chance of that. I think. One never knows with those bitches.” Falyon shook his head. “This was taken fourteen years ago on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector.”

  “Who by?”

  “Martz and his pack were hunting these two during their outlaw years. He hunted them into a cave and they were fighting when something weird happened.”

  “Weird?”

  “Some kind of ice thing. Like a snap freeze. Those two warriors were caught in it.” Falyon tapped the kneeling warrior in the photo image as Creed placed it on the table. “He’d managed to cut this one’s throat during the freeze and cave-in. Lucky cut.”

  Yeah, lucky cut was right. Abra looked again at the horrified expression on the other warrior’s face. Her face was muted by what he now knew was ice as well as debris, but he could make out the horror.

  “Some of the hunters managed to escape,” Falyon continued. “Martz lost three quarters of his hunters in the cave-in. Anyway, Martz was recently shot to shit in an outlaw hunt. Me and my pack were in the vicinity and went to the rescue but it was too late. He gave this to me right before he died, told me the story.”

  “Told you to give it to the Reekas,” Creed stated.

  “Shit, no. He just wanted to brag that he’d killed a Reeka.” Falyon frowned. “He always said he had but he never showed anyone this before. I don’t know why.”

  “I can guess,” Abra said. “Greedy bastard couldn’t dig their bodies out himself, so he wasn’t about to let anyone else dig them out for the dinnos. Plus, he ands. Pluswas such a mad, twisted bastard that he probably kept the photo image for his own perverted pleasure.”

  Falyon nodded thoughtfully. “Could be right. Wouldn’t surprise me. Man was mad as a cut snake.”

  “So what’re you going to do?” Abra queried.

  “Do?”

  Abra flicked a corner of the photo image.

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing?”

  “That’s why I brought it to you, Abra.”

  “I’m not following.”

  “You know the Reekas. You can bring this to them, let them sort it out.”

  “I’m not exactly on friendly terms with them, Falyon.”

  “Yeah,” Creed chipped in. “Last time he and his pack met with some Reekas in a tavern there was a hell of a fight. As usual.”

  “And as usual,” Abra added dryly, “we tried to avoid it. But that Senna and her little band of rogue cronies are a hot-headed bunch. They have long, very long—”

  “And unforgiving,” Creed added.

  “Very long, unforgiving memories.”

  Falyon gave a rumble of amusement.

  “One day,” Abra predicted, “Senna will pick a fight with the wrong man and then she’ll be in trouble.”

  “Or he will.” Creed chortled.

  “Yeah.” Abra flicked the photo image again. “So I’m not that friendly with the Reekas. In fact, me giving this to them just might kick off a revolution.”

  “Hunter with a photo image of their sister warriors dying, not good.” Creed shook his head. “Dead hunter walking.”

  Falyon shrugged. “Then just tear it up. No good will come of it, right?” He reached for the photo image.

  Instinctively, Abra stopped him by placing one hand on it.

  Falyon looked inquiringly at him.

  Creed grinned slyly.

  “Leave it with me,” Abra said.

  “What? Why?”

  “I’ve a plan.”

  Falyon withdrew his hand. “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah.” He pocketed the image without looking at it again. “I’ll send this to Sabra, let her do the deed.”

  “Good thinking.”

  “I don’t suppose Martz gave you directions to finding this cave before he kicked the bucket?”

  “Yeah, he did.” Pulling out the handtronic from his pocket, Falyon keyed in several commands. “I’ll have it sent to your ship’s co-ordination navigator.”

  “Meanwhile...” Abra looked at Falyon. “How many know of this?”

  “My pack, who won’t say a word. Creed.”

  “My lips are sealed,” Creed said. “At least, until the news hits the Reekas, then we have to send out a warning to the other packs, because the fights between bounty hunter packs and the couple of rogue Reekas are going to get a little wilder.”

  “Reya will rein in the rogues,” Abra stated.

  “Reya and her sister, Tenia, may be the leaders,” Faly Abers,”on replied, “but there’re some real hotheads in that tribe, Abra.”

  “Trust me, those hot heads will listen to Reya. I’ve seen it.”

  “They don’t listen to Tenia?”

  “They’ll argue with her, but they’ll knuckle under to her commands regardless. Reya just has to look at them and they fall into order.”

  “I can imagine.”

  ~ * ~

  Outlaw Sector, outskirts

  Planet Ylan, The Desert

  It was like a furnace in the desert. Even the carrion eaters wilted in the shade of a few scrawny trees that sprouted out of the hot sand.

  The sleek, black ship was covered by a haze that wasn’t entirely natural. Shadows flitted where there was no one to cast them, and the searing blue sky held a darkish patch that wavered and moved.

  Sitting on the ramp of his ship, Fredrico wasn’t interested in the sand, hazes or shadows. His gaze was focused on the cave mouth as Carto, his second-in-command, appeared and strode across the sand to the shelter of the ship.

  “We’ve found her,” he said bluntly as he came to a stop in the shade.

  “Still iced?”

  “Frozen solid.”

  “Undamaged?”

  “From what I can tell, nothing has changed since the snap freeze.”

  “Good. Very good.” Standing up, Fredrico slipped the electronic book he wasn’t reading into his pocket and strode across the sand to the cave.

  Sweat and dirt streaking their faces, his men stood aside waiting with that eerie stillness that was so much a part of them these last few years. That was a part of them all.

  A monstrous shadow filled the mouth of the cave and slipped inside behind Fredrico. It slithered up the walls then disappeared ahead of him, streaking with assuredness down the long tunnel.

  Fredrico climbed over the rubble that had still not been cleared properly. There was no point in clearing everything until he was absolutely sure, though Phemar had been certain that she would be found in perfect condition.

  The tunnel went deep, the bones of long-dead bounty hunters pushed aside along with rubble, but finally the tunnel came to an end. He straightened up, Carto coming in behind him. And sure enough there she was, encased in ice.

  The Reeka warrior knelt on one knee, her last movements caught in a split second, frozen for eternity. Red, almost black, hair hung over her face, obscuring her features from sight, and blood, as fresh as if it had been spilled seconds ago, coated her fingers and chest, smeared across the smooth skin above the laced vest. One arm was outstretched, her hand resting on the ground before her as she leaned forward. Her sword lay discarded where it had dropped at her booted feet. Bright blood - hunters’ blood - coated the blade.

  Fredrico glanced at the woman who was partially turned to face her, seeing the horror on her beautiful face. Her blonde hair was almost white, her eyes deep violet. The sword in her hand was across her body, held at the ready, yet dipping as the realization of what had happened to her sister warrior must have diverted her attention from the fight.

  One foreverr h>One fo caught in horror.

  The second caught in dying.

  There was only one who had Fredrico’s attention, however, and he turned away from the standing woman and laid his hand just above the ice, near the kneeling warrior’s head. Closing his eyes, he breathed out deeply and waited se
veral seconds.

  Sure enough, the familiar, loathsome presence flowed through him as though Phemar himself were laying his body over Fredrico’s. The stench of rotting flesh filled the air and darkness filled the chamber.

  With the familiar backlash of Phemar using his senses, he felt beneath his fingertips a spark of life. The warrior wasn’t dead, not yet. Frozen in time, she’d neither aged nor died. Her heart had stopped but her spirit hadn’t left her body. It clung as she knelt, dying but not dead. Trapped. Mystically trapped.

  “Bring her.” The hissing words rolled through the cavern. “Bring her now.”

  Fredrico opened his eyes as the presence left and he was only himself once more. Giving his hand a shake as he drew it back from the ice to remove the lingering sensation of stringy flesh clinging to him, he said simply, “Remove her.”

  The work started again, the tunnel widening only enough for their needs. Progress was fast as the space pirates worked with things that they’d learned to exist with side by side.

  Fredrico oversaw the cutting of the ice as it was sliced in a wide arc around the kneeling warrior. Within seconds she was separated from her companion and a shadow slipped around the figure trapped in the ice. It rose slowly and Carto ordered the floating trolley to be put beneath the cut out section of ice. It was a simple procedure to float the ice block with its frozen occupant down the cleared tunnel and out into the sunshine.

  Almost immediately a trickle of water formed and the ice started to get slippery. The men worked faster, the trolley going up the ramp and into the holding bay. A huge freezer unit stood against the far wall, and Alonz, a hulking brute with a metal hand, slid open the door. Cold air spilled out. The ice block was transferred inside and he shut the door again, sealing the warrior inside the protective freezing depths. His robotic fingers whirred as he pressed the switch to lock the door.

  Standing before the clear glass door, Fredrico gazed in at the white, chilly air that ebbed around the ice block. Quickly the white air coated the clear glass, obliterating the kneeling warrior from sight. Icy claw marks dragged down the inside of the glass and for a second he caught sight of orange eyes glinting up against the glass before it all disappeared. The glass sparkled with white ice.