Текст книги "Cress"

Автор книги: Marissa Meyer

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“Maybe you should call it quits for the day,” said Scarlet. “We’re almost to the satellite.”

Iko chimed in. “Estimated time of arrival is nine minutes, thirty-four seconds. Which, by my estimation, is enough time for Cinder to be defeated and embarrassed in seven more brawls.”

Cinder glared up at the ceiling. “Also just enough time to disconnect your audio device.”

“Since we have a few minutes,” said Scarlet, “maybe we should talk about how to handle this girl. If she’s been stuck on a satellite for seven years, with no one to talk to but a Lunar thaumaturge, she might be … socially awkward. I think we should all make an effort to be extra welcoming and supportive and … try not to terrify her.”

A laugh came from the cockpit and Thorne appeared in the doorway, strapping a gun holster around his waist. “You’re asking the cyborg fugitive and the wild animal to be the welcoming committee? That’s adorable.”

Scarlet planted her hands on her hips. “I’m saying we should be aware of what she’s been through and try to be sensitive to that. This may not be an easy transition for her.”

Thorne shrugged. “The Rampion is going to be like a five-star hotel after living on that satellite. She’ll adjust.”

“I’ll be nice to her!” said Iko. “I can take her net-shopping and she can help me pick out my future designer wardrobe. Look, I found this custom escort shop that has the best accessories, and some discounted models. What would you think of me with orange hair?” The netscreen on the wall switched to an escort-droid sale listing. The image of a model was slowly rotating, showing off the android’s perfect proportions, peachy skin, and royalty-approved posture. She had purple irises and cropped tangerine hair and a tattoo of an old-fashioned carousel that rotated around her ankle.

Cinder squeezed an eye shut. “Iko, what does this have to do with the satellite girl?”

“I was getting to that.” The screen scrolled through a menu, landing on hair accessories, and dozens of icons clustered together showing everything from dreadlocked wigs to cat-ear headbands to rhinestone-encrusted barrettes. “Just think how much potential she has with hair like that!”

“You see?” said Thorne, nudging Scarlet in the shoulder. “Iko and the imprisoned, socially awkward satellite girl, best friends forever. Now, what I’m worried about is how we’re going to be dividing the reward money when this is all over. Because this ship is starting to feel awfully crowded and I’m not sure I’m happy with all of you cutting into my profits.”

“What reward money?” asked Scarlet.

“The reward Cinder’s going to pay us out of the Lunar treasury once she’s queen.”

Cinder rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”

“And that’s just the beginning. By the end of this escapade, the whole world will see us as heroes. Imagine the fame and fortune, the sponsorship opportunities, the marketing requests, net-dramatization rights. I think we should discuss the profit division sooner rather than later, because I’m considering a 60-10-10-10-10 split right now.”

“Am I the fourth ten percent?” said Iko. “Or is that the satellite girl? Because if it’s the satellite girl, I’m going on strike.”

“Can we discuss this imaginary money later?” said Cinder.

“Like, maybe when there’s actual money to discuss?” suggested Scarlet. “Besides, don’t you still have to prepare the podship?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.” With a salute, Thorne grabbed a handgun off a storage crate and sank it into the holster.

Scarlet cocked her head. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go? It’s going to require some precise manuvering to attach to the docking clamp, and from what Cinder told me about your flying skills…”

“What do you mean? What did Cinder say about my flying skills?”

Scarlet and Cinder shared a look. “Naturally, she told me that you’re a fantastic pilot,” said Scarlet, grabbing her red hoodie off a crate. Though it had been badly torn in Paris, she’d stitched it up as well as she could. “Absolutely top-notch.”

“I think she was practicing her sarcasm,” said Iko.

Thorne glared, but Cinder only shrugged.

“I’m just saying,” continued Scarlet, threading her arms through the sleeves, “it may not be an easy attachment. You have to dock slowly, and don’t leave the pod until you’re sure the satellite’s system is compatible and you have a secure connection.”

“I can handle it,” said Thorne. Winking, he reached out and gave Scarlet’s nose a tweak, ignoring how Wolf bristled behind her. “But you sure are sweet to be so concerned about me.”

*   *   *

The docking clamp engaged on Thorne’s second attempt, which he thought was pretty good for never having docked with a satellite before. He hoped Scarlet was watching, after she’d so brazenly doubted his abilities. He checked the connection before putting the podship into standby mode and unlatching his harness. Through the window he could see the curving side of the satellite and one of its circular gyrodines whirling lazily overhead, propelling the satellite through space. He could see only the edge of the docking hatch through the ship’s windows, but it appeared secure, and his instruments were telling him that the pressure and oxygen levels made it safe to exit his ship.

He tugged his collar away from his throat. He was not, by nature, a paranoid man, but dealing with Lunars gave him more hesitation that he was accustomed to, even young, semi-cute ones. Young, semi-cute ones who had probably been driven insane by years of solitude.

Thorne unlatched the podship door and it swung upward, revealing two steps up to a ramp edged with a rail, and beyond it a narrow corridor. His ears popped with the change in pressure. The entrance into the main satellite was still shut tight, but as he approached he heard a hissing noise and the doors parted, sliding seamlessly into the walls.

He recognized the room from the D-COMM connection—dozens of flat, clear screens, some overhead storage cabinets, a mussed-up bed with worn blankets, a wash of bluish white light coming from built-in fixtures. A door to the left led to what he assumed was a washroom, and directly opposite him, there was the door to the second podship hatch.

The girl was sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands in her lap, her hair pooling over both shoulders and ending in a bundle of knotted frizz by her shins.

She was smiling, a close-lipped, polite look that was entirely at odds with the nerve-bundled reaction she’d had over the D-COMM.

But that smile faltered when she saw him.

“Oh, it’s you,” she said, tilting her head to the side. “I was expecting the cyborg.”

“No need to look so disappointed.” Thorne thrust his hands into his pockets. “Cinder can fix ships, but she’s useless at flying them. I’ll be your escort today. Captain Carswell Thorne, at your service.” He tipped his head toward her.

Rather than swoon or flutter her lashes, as was duly expected of her, the girl looked away and glowered at one of the screens.

Coughing, Thorne rocked back on his heels. Somehow he’d expected that a girl with no prior human interaction would be a lot easier to impress.

“Are you all packed up? We don’t like to loiter in one spot for long.”

Her eyes flickered to him, hinting at annoyance. “No matter,” she murmured to herself. “Jacin and I will go to her then.”

Thorne frowned, feeling a twist of regret at his previous mocking, even if it had only been in his own head. What if the solitude really had driven her crazy? “Jacin?”

She stood up, her hair swinging against her ankles. He hadn’t been able to tell how tall she was before, but now seeing that she couldn’t have been much more than five feet, he felt comforted. Crazy or not, she was harmless.

Probably.

“Jacin, my guard.”

“Right. Well, why don’t you invite your friend Jacin to join us, and let’s get going?”

“Oh, I don’t think you’ll be getting far.”

She stepped toward him, and in that movement, she changed. The nest of hair grew dark and silky as a raven’s wing. Her eyes changed from sky blue to slate gray, her pale skin turned golden, and her body stretched upward, becoming tall and graceful. Even her clothes changed, from the plain, worn day dress to a dove-white coat with long sleeves.

Thorne was quick to bury his surprise.

A thaumaturge. Figured.

Not one for denial, he accepted the immediate resignation with a stiffening of his shoulders. It had all been a trap then. The girl had been bait, or perhaps she’d been in on it all along. Funny—he usually had better instincts when it came to these sorts of things.

He stole another glance around the room, but there was no sign of the girl.

Something clanged outside the second entry hatch, shaking the satellite. Hope. His crew must have noticed something was wrong. That would be them now, aboard the second podship.

He called up his most practiced, most charming grin, and reached for his gun. He even felt a sting of pride when he managed to get it all the way out of its holster before his arm froze of its own accord.

Thorne shrugged with the one uncontrolled shoulder. “You can’t blame me for trying.”

The thaumaturge smirked and Thorne’s fingers loosened. The gun clattered to the ground.

“Captain Carswell Thorne, is it?”

“That’s right.”

“I’m afraid you won’t have claim to the title for long. I’m about to commandeer your Rampion for the queen.”

“I am sorry to hear that.”

“Additionally, I assume you are aware that assisting a wanted fugitive, such as Linh Cinder, is a crime punishable by death on Luna. Your sentence is to be carried out immediately.”

“Efficiency. I respect that.”

The second entry door opened behind her. Thorne tried to send mental warnings to his companions—it was a trap! Be ready!

But it was not Cinder or Scarlet or Wolf who stood in the second entry hatch, but a Lunar guard. Thorne’s hope began to wither.

“Jacin, we will be boarding the Rampion using its own podship.”

“Aah, you’re Jacin,” said Thorne. “I thought she was making you up.”

They ignored him, but he was rather used to that.

“Go see that it’s ready to disembark as soon as I’m finished here.”

The guard respectfully inclined his head and moved to follow her commands.

“Careful,” said Thorne. “It wasn’t an easy connection. Required some real precise maneuvering. In fact, would you like me to come disconnect the ship for you? Just to make sure you do it right?”

The guard eyed him smugly as he passed, not as empty-eyed as he’d appeared before. But he didn’t respond as he slipped into the corridor, heading toward Thorne’s podship.

The thaumaturge grabbed a blanket from the bed and tossed it at Thorne. He would have caught it on reflex, but it wasn’t necessary—his hands did all the work without him. Soon he found himself wrapping the blanket around his own wrists and tying it into intricate knots, giving the blanket a final yank with his teeth to tighten it into place.

“I look forward to returning to Luna aboard your ship and spreading the good news that Linh Cinder is no longer a threat to our crown.”

His eyebrow twitched. “Anything I can do to assist Her Majesty’s benevolent cause.”

The thaumaturge strode to a screen beside the hatch and entered a command—a security code followed by a complicated set of instructions. “I had at first considered turning off the life support and letting you and Crescent gasp for air as the oxygen was used up. But that could take too long, and I would hate to give you an opportunity to free yourselves and call for assistance. Instead, I will be merciful.” Finished, she straightened her long sleeves. “Consider yourself lucky that it will be quick.”

“I always consider myself lucky.”

Her gaze became hard as sterling and Thorne found himself marching toward the open door that led to the washroom. As he got closer, he saw the girl tied up with a sheet around her hands, knees, and ankles, and a cloth gag in her mouth. Remnants of tears streaked down her blotchy face. Her hair was a tangled mess on the ground all around her, many of the locks caught up in her bindings.

Thorne’s gut tightened. He’d been sure that she had betrayed them, but her trembling body and horrified expression said otherwise.

His knees gave way and he landed on the floor with a grunt. The girl winced.

Drawing a sharp breath through his nostrils, Thorne glared up at the thaumaturge. “Is this all necessary? You’re scaring the poor girl.”

“Crescent has no reason to be upset. It was her betrayal that brought us to this moment.”

“Right. The five-foot-tall girl tied up and gagged in the bathroom is always the one to blame.”

“Besides,” the thaumaturge continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “I’m granting Crescent her greatest wish. I’m sending her to Earth.” She held up a small shimmering chip, identical to the D-COMM Cinder had been carrying around with her. “I’m sure Crescent won’t mind if I keep this. It is, after all, property of Her Majesty.”

Her sleeves whipped behind her as she left. Thorne heard her heels clipping down the docking hatch and the doors shut behind her. His podship’s engine was muffled, but he felt the slight jolt when they disconnected.

It was only then that he felt the first pang of helplessness.

She’d taken his ship.

That witch had taken his ship.

But the Rampion had a second shuttle. His crew could still come for them. Would come for them.

But then he sensed something new—a slight pull, a gentle shift—and the girl whimpered.

The satellite’s trajectory had been altered. Gravity was claiming them, drawing them out of their orbit.

The satellite was falling toward Earth.

Ten

“He’s attached,” said Scarlet, watching Thorne’s podship through the cockpit viewing window. “That wasn’t too embarrassing.”

Cinder propped herself against the door frame. “I hope he’s quick about it. We have no way of knowing that this girl isn’t being monitored.”

“You don’t trust her?” said Wolf.

“I don’t trust who she works for.”

“Wait. Is that another ship?” Scarlet jerked forward, pulling up a radar search on the screen beside her. “Our scanners aren’t seeing it.”

Wolf and Cinder clustered behind her, peering down at the podship, only slightly larger than Thorne’s, as it neared the satellite. Cinder’s heart began to pound. “Lunar.”

“It has to be,” said Scarlet. “If they’re blocking the signals—”

“No, look. The insignia.”

Wolf cursed. “It’s a royal ship. Probably a thaumaturge.”

“She betrayed us,” Cinder murmured, shaking her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it.”

“Do we run?” asked Scarlet.

“And abandon Thorne?”

In the window, the Lunar podship had connected with the satellite’s second clamp. Cinder raked her fingers through her hair, her thoughts stumbling through her head. “Comm them. Establish the D-COMM link. We need to know what’s going on—”

“No,” said Wolf. “It’s possible they don’t know we’re here. Maybe she didn’t betray us. If they didn’t pick up our ship on radar, there’s still a chance they haven’t had visual of us.”

“They would know Thorne’s podship came from somewhere!”

“Maybe he’ll be able to get away,” Iko chimed in, but there wasn’t the normal enthusiasm to her tone.

“Against a thaumaturge? You saw how well that worked out in Paris.”

“So what do we do?” said Scarlet. “We can’t comm them, we can’t dock…”

“We should run,” said Wolf. “They’ll come for us next.”

They both looked at Cinder and she realized with a jolt that they expected her to take charge. But it wasn’t a simple decision. Thorne was down there. He’d walked right into a trap, and this had all been Cinder’s idea in the first place. She couldn’t leave him.

Her hands began to shake from gripping the chair. Every second of indecision was wasted time.

“Cinder.” Scarlet placed a hand on her arm. It only made her squeeze the chair tighter. “We have to—”

“Run. We have to run.”

Scarlet nodded. She spun back to the controls. “Iko, prep thrusters for—”

“Wait,” said Wolf. “Look.”

Beyond the cockpit window, a podship was disconnecting from the satellite. Thorne’s podship.

“What’s happening?” Iko asked.

Cinder hissed. “Thorne’s ship is coming back. Comm him.”

Scarlet pulled the comm screen up. “Thorne—report. What happened down there?”

The screen returned only static.

Cinder chewed on the inside of her cheek. After a moment, the static was replaced with a simple text comm.

CAMERA DISABLED. WE’RE INJURED. OPEN DOCK.

Cinder reread the message until the words blurred in her vision.

“It’s a trap,” said Wolf.

“It might not be,” she answered.

“It is.”

“We don’t know that for sure! He’s resourceful.”

“Cinder—”

“He could have survived.”

“Or it’s a trap,” muttered Scarlet.

“Cinder,” Iko broke in, her voice pitched high. “What should I do?”

She swallowed, hard, and shoved herself away from the chair. “Open the dock. Both of you, stay here.”

“Absolutely not.” Wolf fell into step beside her. She could tell that he was in fight mode—his shoulders hunched near his ears, his hands curled into claws, his stride fast and determined.

“Wolf.” Cinder pressed her titanium fist against his sternum. “Stay here. If there is a thaumaturge on that ship, Iko and I are the only ones who can’t be controlled.”

Scarlet latched on to his elbow. “She’s right. Your presence could do more harm than good.”

Cinder didn’t wait for Scarlet to convince him. She was already halfway down the ladder that dropped into the ship’s lower level. In the corridor between the podship dock and engine room, she stopped to listen. She heard the solid closing of the dock’s doors, and the life system pumping oxygen back into the space.

“Dock is secured,” said Iko. “Life system stabilized. Safe for entry.”

Cinder’s retina display was panicking, as it tended to do when she was nervous or afraid. Red diagnostics flared up in the corner of her vision, laced with warnings: BLOOD PRESSURE TOO HIGH; HEART RATE TOO FAST; SYSTEMS OVERHEATING, INITIALIZING AUTO-COOL RESPONSE.

“Iko, what do you see in there?”

“I can see that we need to get some real cameras installed on this ship,” she responded. “My sensor confirms that the podship has docked. I detect two life-forms inside, but it doesn’t seem that anyone has gotten out of the ship yet.”

Maybe they were too injured to get out of the ship.

Or maybe it was a thaumaturge, unwilling to leave the shuttle while there was still a chance they could reopen the docking doors and have everything inside sucked out into space.

Cinder opened the tip of her left pointer finger, loading a cartridge. Though she’d used up all her tranquilizer darts during the fight in Paris, she’d been able to manufacture some weapons of her own—projectiles made out of welded nails.

“We just received another text comm from the ship,” said Iko. “It says, ‘Help us.’”

Everything inside Cinder’s head was screaming at her—Trap. Trap. Trap.

But if it was Thorne … if Thorne was inside that ship, injured or dying …

Clearing her thoughts, she reached up and punched in the dock’s access code, then wrenched down the manual lever. The unlock mechanism clunked and Cinder held up her left hand like a gun.

Thorne’s podship was sandwiched between the second pod and a wall of cords and machinery bolted to the thick paneling: tools for loading and unloading freight, fueling equipment, jacks, air compressors, pneumatic coils.

She inched toward the ship.

“Thorne?” she said, craning her head. She spotted a lump of fabric in the pilot seat—a body hunched over.

Shaking, she swung open the door before ducking a few steps back and aiming her weapon at the body. His shirt was soaked in blood.

“Thorne!”

Lowering her hand, she reached forward, rolling him toward her. “What hap—”

An orange light brightened in the corner of her vision, her optobionics reminding her that her eyes were a weakness.

She gasped and raised her hand again, just as he shot forward. One hand wrapped around her wrist, the other clamped around her neck, his movements so fast Cinder fell onto the floor. For a moment it was Thorne on top of her, blue eyes surprisingly calm as he pinned her to the ground.

Then he morphed. His stare became cold and crystalline, his hair grew longer and lighter, and his clothes melded into the red and gray uniforms of the Lunar royal guard.

Her instincts seemed to recognize him before her eyes did, flaring with violent hatred. This was not any Lunar guard. This was the guard who had held her captive during the ball, while Levana taunted her and threatened Kai, threatened everyone.

But wasn’t he—

A fluttery laugh drifted through the air. Cinder squinted against the bright lights as a woman emerged from the podship.

Right. The personal guard to Head Thaumaturge Sybil Mira.

“I had expected more from the galaxy’s most-wanted criminal,” she said, watching as Cinder pressed her free hand into the guard’s chin, struggling to push him away. The thaumaturge smiled, looking like a hungry cat with a new toy. Stars began to speckle Cinder’s vision. “Shall I kill you here, or deliver you in chains to my que—”

She cut off, her gray eyes flickering toward the door. A guttural roar was followed by Wolf throwing himself against the thaumaturge and trapping her against the podship.

The guard’s hold slackened, indecision flashing across his face as he glanced up at his mistress. Cinder swung her fist toward his jaw. She felt the crunch and he reeled back, his attention back on her.

Cinder pulled her knees up, gaining purchase, and shoved him away. She scrambled to her feet, as Wolf grabbed the thaumaturge and wrenched her back. His lips curled, revealing his implanted fangs.

The guard reached for his holster, drawing Cinder’s focus. He pulled the gun out. Cinder raised her hand.

Two shots fired in unison.

Wolf howled in pain as the guard’s bullet buried itself beneath his shoulder blade.

The guard grunted as Cinder’s projectile found his side.

Cinder pivoted, her aim seeking out the thaumaturge’s heart, but Wolf was between them, a dark spot of blood seeping through his shirt.

Sybil’s face was disfigured by fury as she placed her palm against Wolf’s chest and snarled. “Now then,” she hissed. “Let’s remind you what you really are.”

Wolf snapped his jaw shut. A low growl rumbled through his throat. He spun toward Cinder, his gaze filling with bloodlust.

“Oh, stars,” she murmured, backing up until she was pressed against the second podship. She held her hand steady, but she had no hope of hitting Sybil with Wolf in the way, especially now that he was under the thaumaturge’s control. Gulping, she reached out with her mind, grasping for the familiar waves of Wolf’s energy, his own signature of bioelectricity, but found something brutal and feral clouding around him instead.

Wolf lunged for her.

Cinder switched her target, reaching for the guard instead. It felt natural, the half second it took to claim his willpower and force him into action. In a blink, the guard was between them. He raised his gun, but was too slow as Wolf backhanded him out of the way, sending him sliding between the ship’s landing gear. The gun clattered along the row of cabinets.

Cinder skittered around the podship’s nose. They made eye contact over its roof and Wolf hesitated, his fangs bared. Cinder’s internal warnings were coming so fast they’d blurred together, pointing out escalated heart rates and an unhealthy increase of adrenaline. She ignored them, focused only on keeping the podship between her and Wolf as he prowled back and forth.

But then his entire body flinched. Wolf turned and raced toward Sybil as another gunshot echoed through the dock. Wolf threw himself in front of the thaumaturge, catching the bullet in his chest.

Scarlet screamed from the doorway, a gun in her shaking hands.

Panting, Cinder scanned for a weapon, a plan. The thaumaturge was backed into a corner with Wolf acting as her shield. The Lunar guard was curled up beneath the nearest podship, hopefully unconscious. Scarlet lowered the gun. The thaumaturge would have no trouble controlling her.

Except, the thaumaturge had doubt in her expression and a grimace on her face. A vein was throbbing in her forehead as she cowered behind Wolf.

Cinder realized with some shock that it was almost as difficult for Sybil to control Wolf as it was for her. She couldn’t control anyone else so long as she had him, and the moment she released Wolf, he would turn on her and the battle would be over.

Unless.

Unless she killed Wolf and removed him from the equation entirely.

With the blood pooling and dribbling out of his two bullet wounds, Cinder wondered how long that would take.

“Wolf!” Scarlet’s voice shuddered. The gun was still aimed at Sybil, but Wolf was still between them.

Another gunshot made Cinder jump, the noise ricocheting off the walls. Sybil cried out in pain.

The guard—not unconscious after all—had grabbed the abandoned gun. And he’d shot the thaumaturge.

Sybil hissed, her nostrils flaring as she fell to one knee, one hand pressed against her thigh, already covered in blood.

The guard was kneeling, gripping the gun. Cinder couldn’t see his face, but he sounded strained when he spoke. “She’s controlling me. The cyborg—”

Cinder’s lie detector flickered, unnecessarily. She was doing no such thing, although, had she thought of it before …

Sybil shoved Wolf toward the guard. The energy in the room quivered, waves of bioelectricity steaming and shimmering around them. Sybil had released her power over Wolf. The gunshot had weakened her—she could no longer control him.

Wolf collapsed against the guard, and they both crumpled to the ground. The guard grappled for purchase, keeping a tight hold on the gun as he shoved Wolf away. Pale and shaking, Wolf couldn’t even fight back. Blood puddled around them, slicking the floor.

“WOLF!” Scarlet raised the gun toward the thaumaturge again, but Sybil had already scrambled up, limping behind the nearest podship.

Cinder dove for Wolf, grabbing him under both arms and dragging him away from the guard. He flailed his legs, his heels slipping on the blood, but otherwise offered no assistance.

The guard rose up to a crouch, panting, covered in blood, his own side bleeding from Cinder’s projectile. He still held the gun.

As Cinder stared at him, she saw the choice.

Take control of the guard before he raised the gun and killed her.

Or take control of Wolf and give him the strength he needed to get out of the dock before he bled to death.

The guard held her gaze for one throbbing moment, before he hauled himself up and ran toward his mistress.

Cinder didn’t wait to see whether he was going to kill her or protect her.

Clenching her fists, she blocked out everything around them, focusing only on Wolf and the bioelectricity that simmered around him. He was weak. This was not like trying to control him in their mock fights. She found her will slipped easily into his, and though his body protested, she urged him to stiffen his legs. Just enough to take most of his weight off her. Just enough so she could carry him, limping, into the corridor.

She dropped Wolf against the wall. Her palms were sticky with blood.

“What’s happening?” Iko wailed over the speakers.

“Keep your sensor on this corridor,” said Cinder. “When all three of us are safely out of the dock, shut the door and open the hatch.”

Sweat dripping into her eyes, she rushed back into the dock. All she needed was to get Scarlet and let Iko open the hatch. The vacuum of space would take care of the rest.

She spotted the thaumaturge first. Not ten paces in front of her.

She had a clear shot.

Nerves humming with adrenaline, she lifted her hand and prepared a projectile. She took aim.

Scarlet leaped in front of her, her arms out in a T. Her expression was blank, her mind under the thaumaturge’s control.

Cinder almost wilted with relief. Without hesitating, she grabbed Scarlet around the waist with one arm and raised the other to let off a volley of projectiles toward the thaumaturge—more to keep her at bay than in hopes of doing any real damage. The last of her welded nails struck the metal walls as Cinder stumbled and fell back into the corridor.

She noticed the orange light in her vision at the same moment she screamed, “Iko, now!”

As the corridor door zipped shut, she spotted Sybil racing toward the nearest pod, and a glimpse of feet on the other side of the podship.

The guard’s feet.

But—

But—

Blue jeans and tennis shoes?

Cinder shoved Scarlet’s body away with a scream.

The glamour vanished, along with the orange light in her vision. Scarlet’s red hoodie flickered, transforming into the Lunar uniform. The guard groaned and rolled away. He was bleeding from the wound in his side.

She’d grabbed the guard. Sybil had tricked her. Which meant—

“No—Scarlet! Iko!”

She threw herself at the control panel and punched in the code to open the door, but an error flashed at her. On the other side, the docking hatch was opening. A curdled scream echoed through the corridor, and Cinder almost didn’t realize it was hers.

“Cinder! What’s happening? What—”

“Scarlet’s in there.… She has…”

She raked her fingernails viciously along the door’s airtight seal, unable to keep away the vision of Scarlet being pulled out into space.

“Cinder, the podship!” said Iko. “She’s taking the podship. Two life-forms aboard.”

“What?”

Cinder looked up at the panel. Sure enough, the room’s scanners indicated there was only one shuttle still docked.

The thaumaturge had survived, and she’d taken Scarlet with her.

Eleven

“She has Scarlet,” said Cinder. “Quick—close the hatch! I’ll take the other pod, I’ll follow them—”

Her words faltered, her brain catching up.

She did not know how to fly a podship.

But she could figure it out. She could download some instructions and she could … she would have to …

“Your friend is dying.”

She spun around. She’d forgotten about the Lunar guard.

He was pressing a hand to his side, where Cinder’s projectile was still embedded, but his attention was on Wolf.

Wolf, who was unconscious and surrounded by blood.

“Oh, no. Oh, no.” She ejected the knife in her finger and started cutting the bloodstained fabric away from Wolf’s wounds. “Thorne. We need to get Thorne. Then we can go after Scarlet and I … I’ll bandage Wolf and—”

She glanced at the guard. “Shirt,” she said firmly, although the order was more to focus her own thoughts. In seconds, the guard’s hands were working at her command, removing the empty gun holster and pulling his own bloodied shirt over his head. She was glad to see a second undershirt as well—she had a feeling they were going to need every bit of “bandaging” she could find to stanch Wolf’s bleeding. Eventually they would have to get him to the medbay, but there was no way she could move him in this condition, especially not up that ladder.