Another shower of sparks erupted out of the open panel. One landed on Vesper’s palm, right beside the cut. She cursed and flung the spark off, causing it to wink out.
Once again, an answering burn erupted in my own hand, along with a small red dot where the spark had landed. My dread vanished, replaced by rage.
I’d been right before. She was an enemy plant. Only she had done something much, much worse than simply trying to kill me.
I surged up off the medtable and stormed in her direction. She must have heard my footsteps, but she kept her gaze on her injury. I had to hand it to her—she was very good at playing innocent.
“Hey, will you find me a rag so I can wipe this blood off—”
I leaned down, dug my hand into the back of her coveralls, and hauled her to her feet.
Vesper staggered away. “Hey! What was that for?”
My fingers clenched into fists, then flexed wide again. I was going to get some answers—and then I was going to kill her.
CHAPTER EIGHT
VESPER
Kyrion Caldaren glared at me with a cold, furious expression that made a shiver zip down my spine.
Kill her . . .
The words rasped through my mind, startling me. Was that . . . his thought . . . about me? But why would I be hearing his voice in my head? I was a seer, not a psion like he was.
“Who are you?” he demanded. “Who sent you? Who told you to do this to me?”
“Do what?” The way he was growling, you would think I’d just shot him in the back with a blaster.
His fingers curled into fists, and he stalked toward me, his long legs eating up the distance between us. It took me several precious seconds to realize what was happening.
Kyrion Caldaren had morphed back into Arrow mode and was sweeping toward me like a wave of death.
I had saved him from the lava field, so why would he want to hurt me now? What did he think I had done to him? And why was he so determined to kill me for it?
He snarled and lunged forward. I darted away and accidentally banged into one of the walls. A button poked into my back, making me hiss.
He stopped and hunched down, as though he’d felt the same pain in his back that had just spiked through mine. But after a few seconds, he straightened up, his eyes as dark and merciless as a black hole. Whatever discomfort he’d experienced had further angered him.
“Tell me who you’re working for,” he said. “And I’ll let you live.”
Let me live? Who did he think he was? Rage roared through me, burning as hot and bright as an exploding star. I hadn’t survived a horrific battle and saved this ungrateful bastard’s life just to let him accuse me of . . . Well, I had no idea what he thought I’d done.
My fingers tightened around the dagger still in my hand, and I pointed the weapon at him. Kyrion huffed, almost in amusement, and flicked his fingers. Telekinetic power punched the dagger out of my hand, and it tumbled across the floor, well out of my reach.
“Who was it?” Kyrion demanded again. “How much did they pay you to do this to me?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about!”
He huffed again, this time sounding more derisive than amused, and reached for me. I dodged him, although I felt like a butterfly flitting around a cement block. He was several inches taller than me, with a body that was all hard, solid muscle, and sooner or later, he was going to latch on to me and crush my wings.
I needed some sort of weapon if I had any chance of getting away from him, so I ran my hands along the wall behind me, but my searching fingers only encountered smooth metal. Frustration filled me. I needed to find something to defend myself with—right now.
The ship rocked from side to side again. Kyrion lurched backward, and his head smacked into the wall. He didn’t even flinch, but strangely enough, I felt as though I’d just cracked my own head against the metal, and I couldn’t help but wince.
“You feel it too,” he muttered, his words a bit slurred. “That’s why I have to stop it, stop you, before it goes any further.”
Stop what? What nonsense was he spouting?
Another violent, jerking motion sent me staggering forward, and I slammed up against his chest. Yep, Kyrion Caldaren was most definitely a cement block—cold, hard, and utterly unfeeling. I put my hand down to push myself away from him, and my fingers brushed up against something on his belt. What was that?
The answer popped into my mind. His stormsword.
Determination surged through me, and I shoved my hand down. Once, twice, my fingers slipped off the sword’s silver hilt. A frustrated growl tumbled from my lips. Kyrion listed from side to side and blinked several times, clearly trying to shake off his daze.
The ship rocked yet again, forcing me even closer to him. This time, I managed to wrap my fingers around the hilt, and I tore the weapon off his belt.
The sword’s hilt was heavy and solid, like a hammer in my hand, so I snapped it up and punched it into his face. Kyrion snarled, and pain exploded in my own cheek, but I gritted my teeth and hit him again.
And then again, and again, even though each blow made an answering pain spike through my own body.
I slammed the hilt into his face yet again, and this time, a cut opened up high on his right cheek. Blood trickled down his skin, and a small sting zipped through my own face. What was happening? Why were we mirroring each other’s injuries?
Kyrion reached for me, but I brought my left hand up between us and shoved myself away from him. I flew across the corridor, banged into the opposite wall, and bounced off. My ass hit the floor, and the sword slipped out of my fingers, but I managed to scramble back to my feet.
The ship shuddered violently, throwing us both off-balance. Kyrion staggered all the way back into the cargo bay and bumped up against the medtable, while I latched on to a counter bolted to the corridor wall. My gaze snagged on a blue button close to the cargo bay entrance, the same button I’d hit earlier when he’d stalked toward me.
An image of a ZMR43 blitzer schematic popped into my mind. I’d studied them ad nauseam at the Imperium university and then at my various jobs, learned every single inch of that ship and dozens of others, so I knew exactly what that button did. I slid my hands along the edge of the counter, using it to pull myself in that direction.
The ship’s course leveled out again. More rage filled Kyrion’s face, and he pushed away from the medtable. I wouldn’t be able to escape him a second time, so I rushed forward and slapped the button on the wall, even though that put me far too close to him.
Nothing happened.
Kyrion swayed on his feet, trying to get his balance.
“Come on,” I growled. “Come on! Come on!”
I slapped the button again. No response.
Kyrion snarled and headed toward me.
Desperation filled me, and I surged forward and slammed all my body weight onto that button, holding it down, down, down—
A blue light flashed on the wall, and a clear sheet of glass dropped down from the ceiling right between me and Kyrion Caldaren, saving my life—for now.
I sagged against the wall, sucking down one relieved breath after another. My O2 enhancement helped smooth out the worst of the adrenaline rush, and I felt much more like myself again. A battered, bruised version of myself, but at least I was still alive.