Feral Empires: First Spark Read online

  “Help me up,” he muttered. At her skeptical look, he scowled and gestured impatiently. “I’m fine! Really!”

  Relying on her vines, Jenn pulled him upright. Liam winced as he cautiously shifted weight to his shot-through leg and sensed its weakness. He’d be limping a bit longer, but it could still support him. He gave it a shake, then looked around.

  “Where’s Kathryn?” he asked.

  Jenn shrugged, then turned. She’d scarcely done so when, out of the gloom, Kathryn emerged. The girl still moved inhumanly fast. Each step carried her several yards, giving the impression that she was skipping, despite traveling faster than Liam could have while sprinting.

  She was moving so quickly, in fact, that she failed to stop in time. Liam watched, grimly amused, as the girl planted her heels and skidded hard into the wall. She yelped as she caught herself, then flashed a lopsided smile as she proudly lifted her chin. It, like her hands, was covered in fresh blood.

  “Fast and strong!” she chirped. “Can show! More inside?”

  Liam nodded, then set off toward the nearest door. There were several along the building’s outer edge, placed seemingly at random. And, despite the Institute’s otherwise significant security, they were unlocked as well. Rather than the handles he was accustomed to from the interior doors, this one possessed a flat, horizontal bar that shifted slightly as he put his weight on it.

  He stormed into the building first, fully expecting to suffer additional gunfire as he did. Instead, he found himself in a recessed corner of an unspeakably large chamber. Dozens of enormous, metal tanks filled the center of the room. Pipes lined the ceiling, carrying unknown liquids to and fro, while large vats that looked like massively oversized canteens gurgled audibly. And, shuffling from place to place on some unknown task, stood a half-dozen men.

  Liam wanted to gawk, both at the sheer size of the room and its inscrutable contents. Instead, it all faded to insignificance as he studied the uniforms worn by the occupants. They were not the camouflaged, tactical outfits he’d seen on the outside, but the long, white coats he remembered from before.

  Memories, a surge of them so powerful it took his breath away, washed over him. Memories of hours spent sobbing in his cell. Of pain so intense he could do nothing but scream. Of shouted orders that left him trembling. Of cold, feminine eyes staring down at him as he begged for the suffering to end.

  Memories of white coats and gloved hands that held him down, no matter how hard he fought or how much he begged.

  Run. Get away. Run. They’ll hurt you.

  Rage, then.

  Liam’s pistol was in his hand. He didn’t remember carrying it; he was certain he’d dropped it when he’d been shot. But, there it was.

  And, there they were.

  He knew Jenn and Kathryn were behind him, but he didn’t turn to look. He couldn’t look away. Not anymore.

  “Kill them all,” he ordered.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Liam’s ears rang with the echo of gunfire. He barely heard it, however, over the furious pounding of his own heartbeat. His pistol was empty, but he continued to clutch it, white-knuckled, as he stared down at the body of the last man he’d killed.

  The man’s coat was stained red in three places, eyes wide. A pale blue mask covered the lower half of his face, but from the way it lay, Liam suspected his mouth was still open.

  He bent down, peeling the top of the mask back to be sure, and then nodded in satisfaction.

  Still open.

  Seized by a sudden impulse, Liam struck the dead man in the face. The blow stung his knuckles, but heard something in the man’s face crack. The sound was satisfying, almost poetically so.

  These men had hurt him, not so long ago. They’d hurt him, over and over. And each time, they’d walked away unharmed. Now the situation was reversed.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Liam had settled into a rhythm. His fist rose and fell, each new blow adding to the satisfaction burning a hole in his chest. And, with each passing second, the man’s body shattered more.

  It took a long time for Jenn to pull him off the corpse.

  “Liam!” she cried, when she finally managed it. “Stop it! We have to keep moving!”

  He blinked, feeling as though he’d woken from a nap he hadn’t remembered starting. He glanced down, stomach turning at the sight of what his hands had wrought. Very little of the man remained recognizable.

  Liam’s hand itched, as the skin on his knuckles repaired itself.

  “Liam,” Jenn repeated. Her eyes were wide with urgency. “We need to move.”

  He nodded, struggling to shake off his numbness. Glancing around, he was surprised to see more corpses bearing the red-coated signs of gunfire. He barely remembered firing. How many of the dead were his?

  “Liam!”

  “Right,” he said, tearing his gaze away. “Let’s go.”

  Together, they picked their way over the dead. Kathryn did likewise, staring up at Liam with an admiring grin. Unlike the two of them, she had no qualms about walking across the bodies of the fallen Occs.

  “The next building is yours,” Jenn reminded him, as they neared the hallway that led to the next building.

  Liam paused, just long enough to take a preparatory breath. The idea didn’t seem real to him yet, at least not in his current state. Some part of his fugue remained, numbing him to the reality of what awaited them.

  The hallway was narrow, windowless, and crammed with spare equipment. Once again, Liam took the lead and eased open the double doors. Something about the passage alarmed him, and for greater reason than what awaited them at the end. If there were Occs waiting for them, he’d have absolutely no shelter.

  “Where is everyone?” he said, glancing at Jenn. “This feels wrong.”

  She nodded, waving her vines forward. Several were covered in blood, he noticed. Not that it seemed to matter much, as they snatched up improvised weapons. Most would be poor implements—how many Occs had ever been killed by a broom?—but the sheer volume of them was reassuring. So armed, the three of them inched forward.

  They’d only just passed the midway point of the hallway when they Occs pounced. Two men spun into view, one on either side of the far doors. They leveled pistols, immediately firing through the glass.

  Unlike when they’d been ambushed by the guard tower, Liam moved first. He flung himself in front of Jenn, tackling her to the floor and sheltering her with his body. He felt himself struck, two—three times in the back, before the violence ceased.

  Jenn grimaced beneath him, obviously pained but not looking as though she’d been shot. Liam lifted his head slightly and spotted Kathryn, too. The girl had wedged herself in the gap between a metal cart and an upended table. She had not been hit, either, though her mouth was twisted into a vicious snarl.

  Liam exhaled slowly, expecting the pain to reach him. But, it did not. He frowned, reaching for it with his mind. He could feel the wounds on his back and the tunnels through his flesh left by the bullets. He could even measure to which the damage should have pained him.

  And yet, the pain wasn’t there. It was as though something inside him held it at bay. Keeping it just beyond arm’s reach. Was he in shock? Had the bullets somehow damaged a part of him necessary for regulating pain?

  Liam struggled to his feet, his injuries slowing the effort. He heard the Occs curse in the language he could almost understand, and turned to find them urgently reloading the guns they’d shot him with. He stepped forward, dropping his own pistol and holding his arms outstretched.

  “Jenn,” he said, calmly. “Your turn.”

  The Occs finished reloading and Liam grunted as he felt more rounds strike him. He staggered, feeling his body weaken as the new wounds took their toll. But, as before, the pain did not come when expected.

  By then, Jenn was moving. And, as she hurtled past him, Liam knew he would never see a more majestic sight. Every one of Jenn’s vines was a
live. Some held her aloft, braced against walls and the floor until she filled the narrow hallway. Others hurled the weapons she’d collected. Most clattered against the doors, but a few found their marks.

  Liam watched, barking an involuntary laugh as the broom he’d so casually dismissed buried itself in one of the Occ’s chest. The other suffered a similar fate as Jenn’s primary vine lashed out and speared him through the heart. Both tumbled back. If either made any cry, it was inaudible amid the crash of debris.

  And, just like that, Jenn shrunk back to normal. She rushed to Liam’s side, vines going limp, save for a few that knit together to shield them both.

  “Oh, Liam,” she murmured, hands shaking as she reached toward his chest.

  He glanced down, noting the fresh holes in his shirt. He smiled wryly. Not at the wounds, of course, as those were undeniably serious, but at the continued mystery of the absent pain.

  A flicker of movement caught his attention, and he lifted his gaze to spot Kathryn leaping from her hiding place. She was headed toward the end of the hall.

  “Kathryn!” he called out. But, naturally, he was too slow. The girl had already reached the doors and vaulted through the shattered, inlaid windows before her name had left his lips.

  “Don’t talk!” Jenn snapped, pressing her palms against his wounds. “Focus on healing!”

  Liam could feel the pressure there just fine. And, bizarrely, that discomfort remained far greater than the wounds themselves. Still, he didn’t want to worry Jenn any more than was necessary. Closing his eyes, he lay back and focused on healing.

  He’d been healing faster than usual the last day or two, but the swiftness of it now floored him. Liam had scarcely begun to focus when he felt the wounds begin to close. He wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t heard the rattle of a bullet onto the floor as his body expelled it.

  He sat up, ignoring Jenn’s protests. He pulled her hands off his wounds and focused. And, as before, within seconds, the bullets popped free and the wounds resealed. His back took a bit longer, perhaps because he couldn’t see the precise spot he’d been hit, but nevertheless repaired itself in the time he might previously have handled a simple scratch.

  “Huh,” he said.

  Liam climbed to his feet. Jenn remained kneeling, her face ashen and full of disbelief.

  “How did you—?” she began.

  “Later,” Liam said. “We need to help Kathryn.”

  Reaching down, he helped Jenn to her feet. She moved slowly, unsteadily, as if she’d been the one shot. He left her standing there, confident that she’d be able to follow. The effort proved in vain, however, since by the time he reached the end of the hallway, the battle was already over.

  Kathryn stood in the center of a ring of corpses, licking the blood from her hand. Six men lay at her feet, their bodies twisted and torn in numerous ways. And, though her dress was now stained a vibrant pink, Kathryn’s self-satisfied grin was unmistakable.

  It vanished as Liam stepped through the door, replaced by a look of relief.

  “Liam!” she chirped. “Not dead!”

  As Liam approached, her expression took on a note of bewilderment. “Not hurt?” she said. “How?”

  “I don’t know,” he admitted. “I can heal faster now. Like, really fast.”

  Kathryn darted toward him, still moving impossibly quick. This time, she did not overshoot her target, but instead came to a stop inches in front of him. Grabbing his shirt she yanked it up as if to confirm he was, in fact, fully healed. And, when that did not prove enough to satisfy her curiosity, poked his stomach with a slick finger.

  “Fast and strong,” she said. “Kathryn too. Faster fast, stronger strong. Liam and Kathryn. Faster and stronger. Both.” Cocking her head, she frowned and continued. “Blood-secret? Special Liam blood?”

  “Maybe,” he said, considering the girl’s words. And, more precisely, whether or not he’d pieced together her meaning. “But, Plant—er, Jenn has gotten stronger too, I think. And she doesn’t drink blood, so…”

  Liam’s words faded away as his mind finally began to take in the reality of his surroundings. The walls, the doors, and everything about them were so familiar that it struck him like a physical blow. He couldn’t breathe. His heart pounded so ferociously it felt as though he was being stabbed with each beat. His eyes closed and he sank to the floor, groaning.

  Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Don’t hurt me. Please. Please.

  “Shut up!” he snarled. His nails dug into the meat of his arms until he felt blood leak out around his fingertips. “Shut up!”

  It didn’t help.

  Run. Get away. Run. They’ll hurt you.

  “Stop,” he moaned. His voice was pitiful and insignificant in his own ears. “Please. No more.”

  A hand touched his shoulder. Liam flinched, but did not bother trying to escape. What was the point? He was back. Why had he done this? Why had he come back? They were going to hurt him again!

  Jenn’s arms enveloped him, pulling him close. He could feel the warmth of her body, the ever-present scent of flowers filling his nose as he gasped an involuntary breath. Her cheek lay against his temple, lips tickling his ear as she whispered.

  “It’s okay, Liam. You’re okay.”

  Run.

  “We’re going to burn it down.”

  Run.

  “They’ll never hurt you again.”

  Slowly, painfully, Liam allowed himself to uncurl. His whole body ached from his sustained panic, arms stinging as they healed from self-inflicted wounds. Even as they did, Jenn continued to embrace him. It was not until he breathed a shaky sigh that she pulled back enough to look him in the eye.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  The words felt almost blasphemous under the present circumstances, but brought a weak smile to Liam’s face, nevertheless. He nodded, running a hand through his hair. Then a second time. Anything present, anything real, to distract him from the terror and the voices screaming in his ear.

  “Love you too,” he managed, after a moment.

  Jenn beamed at him as she helped him to his feet.

  “Let’s go kill some Occs,” she said.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “That’s the one,” Liam said, the tightness of his throat making him hoarse. Merely looking at the cell door made his legs weak and he dropped his gaze back to the first floor as soon as he was certain Jenn had the right one.

  She kissed his cheek.

  “I’ll go check it,” she offered. “You stay here with Kathryn. Don’t let her wander off.”

  Liam gave a small nod and gratefully turned his attention to the girl. She stood beside him, eyeing him with transparent worry. At his look, she donned a gentle smile and offered him her a hand, mostly licked clean of blood. He took it gladly, surprised by its quivering. It took several seconds of study to realize he was the source of it.

  The sound of Jenn’s footsteps drew his attention as she mounted the stairs, three at a time. Though he couldn’t bring himself to look directly at her as she neared the source of his anxiety, he continued to track her progress from the corner of his eye.

  The rasp of metal-on-metal as she undid the exterior bolts sent another jolt of panic through him. Liam’s fingers tightened around Kathryn’s as he forced himself to glance up in Jenn’s direction. He did so repeatedly, holding it for a heartbeat at a time.

  As the door opened, however, the sound of movement reached him. Liam looked up fully, just in time to see someone rush from the cell. They collided with Jenn, pinning her to the thin railing that lined the edge of the second-floor walkway.

  “Jenn!” he yelped. Kathryn’s hand yanked free of his as she prepared to leap.

  He needn’t have worried. A second later, the sound of sobbing filled the air and Liam realized that Jenn was not under attack. Instead, the person who’d emerged from the cell had wrapped their arms around Jenn’s back in a desperate embrace
.

  Jenn’s vines, which had risen in anticipation, now dropped to dangle loosely over the walkway’s edge.

  “It’s Nora!” Jenn called down to them. The relief and delight in her voice were unmistakable. “It’s really you! Liam, it’s her! We found her!”

  The next few moments were a blur of activity and rushed introductions that felt nearly as unreal to Liam as the non-pain of his earlier wounds. Nora was every bit Jenn’s equal in most ways. They shared the same pale blue eyes, the same smile, and even looked to be the same age. In fact, they could have passed for sisters, if Nora had not stood more than a full head taller than Jenn. She loomed over Liam as well, though she scarcely noticed him for the way she fawned over her friend.

  Liam was more than content to observe, however. Much as he tried not to, there was no missing the woman’s long, elegant legs and accompanying curves. In fact, everything from the neck down was wholly enticing. So instead, he studied the woman’s hair—a rich auburn to Jenn’s black—since he could look nowhere else without distraction.

  There was something familiar about her, in much the same way that he’d had the vague impression of recognizing Wuyong. The comparison, apt though it was, left him feeling guilty. Even more guilty than he’d felt ogling the woman.

  He was still staring when Jenn’s voice startled him from his reverie.

  “Liam, we should go.” She stepped toward him, still clutching Nora’s hand. “We’ve made a lot of noise. If we don’t leave now, they’ll trap us here.”

  He was just about to agree when Nora interjected.

  “Wait!” she exclaimed, glancing at Jenn and gesturing toward another hallway. This one lay opposite the direction they’d come, heading deeper into the Institute proper. “There are others! At least ten of them. They’re in the next block.”

  Kathryn looked at him. Then Jenn did likewise, followed by Nora. All of them looking at him. Waiting.

  Liam froze, panicking under the sudden, unwelcome responsibility. Being here, in this building, only made thinking harder. They wanted him to decide? How would he know what to do? It wasn’t fair, leaving the decision to him.