His gaze slid down my body. I stiffened, and I had to stifle another scream as he stepped forward and pinned me up against the wall.
Hal quickly, ruthlessly searched me from head to toe, patting me down with the practiced efficiency of a professional who knew exactly what he was searching for and was determined to find it. I was too weak to try to stop him, and the other three mercenaries kept their blasters aimed at my head in a clear warning not to fight back.
Hal finished with my body, then ran his hands through my smoky, tangled hair, as though he was a lover about to draw me in for a passionate kiss. I shuddered at the intimate touch, and my nose crinkled as his hot, rancid breath washed over my face.
He yanked his fingers out of my hair, then looked me over again, even more carefully than before. His gaze fell to my hands, and I couldn’t stop myself from tensing.
“What do we have here?” Hal murmured.
He latched on to my left hand and held it up where he could see it better. Despite all the heat and chaos of the lava field, the blue eye had stayed attached to my thumbnail. He peeled off the plastic jewel, then grabbed the microdot drive hidden underneath.
Hal let out a low whistle of appreciation. “So that’s how you got the files past our scanners. Clever, Vesper. Truly clever.”
He grinned at me, then dropped the microdot drive onto the floor and crunched it under the toe of his boot. All I could do was slump against the wall and watch him destroy the one tiny piece of leverage I had.
“Now what?” one of the other mercenaries asked.
Hal turned to answer him, but a cold voice cut him off.
“Now you’re all going to die.”
All four mercenaries whipped around, and my head snapped to the right.
Kyrion Caldaren pushed away from the counter and stalked over to the glass barrier. He was still clutching his helmet, like a kid about to go ride a hoverbike.
Hal and the other mercenaries froze, and one of them let out a low, muttered curse. They all knew exactly who and what he was.
Hal’s gaze flicked back over to me. “What are you doing hanging out with an Arrow, Vesper? Rowena Kent will not be pleased about this. Why, she’ll probably want to question you herself about what you’ve told him.”
His lips split into another cruel grin. “And then, of course, we’ll have to question him ourselves. He should put up much more of a fight than you did. I’ve always wanted to get my hands on an Arrow and see if they’re really as tough as everyone claims.”
Kyrion shrugged. “Given the wound in her side, Vesper will be dead in a matter of minutes, unless you decide to heal her. Which you can’t do without either bringing her in here and putting her on the medtable or taking her to the one on your own ship. But given how quickly you got here, I’m guessing your ship is equipped more for speed, rather than to deal with severe injuries, especially the amount of trauma Vesper has suffered.”
He spoke in that calm, clinical voice, as though the pain pounding through my body was no more concerning than the distant stars glimmering outside the ship. I wondered if he could sense my pain through the truebond. If so, how did it feel to him? Because I felt like someone was slamming a red-hot hammer into my side. But if my injury was bothering him through the bond, then he wasn’t letting his discomfort show.
“If Vesper dies, you won’t be questioning her about anything,” Kyrion continued. “As for me, well, you do not want to get your hands on me, as you so ineloquently put it. Because I will chop them off with my sword, feed them to you, and watch you choke on your own bloody fingers.”
His voice remained cold and clinical, but anticipation glimmered in his dark blue eyes, as though he was looking forward to keeping his deadly promise. If I hadn’t already realized exactly how dangerous Kyrion Caldaren was, those words would have driven the point home. For all his bluster, bravado, and enhancements, even Hal looked concerned by the Arrow’s calm threat of dismemberment, torture, and forced self-cannibalism.
“Forget about questioning them,” one of the mercenaries piped up in a high, nervous tone. “Let’s kill the woman and be done with her. Then we can suck all the air out of the cargo bay and get rid of the Arrow.”
He gestured at the red button on the wall that controlled the oxygen level in the cargo bay. The mercenary’s fingers twitched, as though he wanted to lunge forward and push the button before Kyrion could deliver another threat. Smart man.
A razor-thin smile curved Kyrion’s lips, revealing just a hint of his white teeth. It was one of the most chilling expressions I had ever seen. “Ah, yes. Vesper had a similar plan. Suffocate me, then dump my body out of the cargo bay. But it’s not going to work for you any more than it would have worked for her.”
“Why is that?” Hal asked, a sneer in his voice.
Kyrion’s smile grew a little wider and sharper. “Because my stormsword is still on your side of the glass.”
He pointed to the left, and we all looked in that direction. His sword was sitting on the counter, looking like a random piece of silver among all the parts I’d cannibalized from the blasters to make my own supercharged weapon.
Hal laughed, then turned back to the glass and spread his arms out wide. “How does your little toy being on this side hurt us? You’re the one who’s trapped without a weapon.”
Kyrion’s eyes glittered with more of that eerie anticipation. “I am the weapon.”
The mercenaries stared at him with tense, watchful expressions, and even Hal fell silent. Idiots. They should have been doing something, not just standing around and waiting for Kyrion Caldaren to kill them. If I’d had the strength for it, I would have staggered over and pushed that red button myself.
Hal opened his mouth, probably to spew another stupid, pointless insult, but Kyrion waved his hand. His body might be trapped behind the permaglass, but his magic rippled through the barrier like it wasn’t even there. I blinked, wondering if he had shattered the glass with his power, but it looked as stable and solid as before—
Kyrion’s stormsword flew up off the counter, zipped through the air, and slammed hilt-first into the blue button on the wall.
Hiss.
The glass barrier shot back up into the ceiling. Hal and the three mercenaries had turned their heads to track the sword, but I looked at Kyrion, who was standing in the same spot as before, still clutching his helmet.
He waved his hand again, and the stormsword zipped back and forth through the air like an angry bee. The hilt slammed into the face of first one mercenary, then another, then another, stinging them all in equal measure.
The sword zoomed toward Hal, who growled and slapped it away, but Kyrion was already moving forward. He didn’t run so much as he glided, his movements as smooth as water rippling in a pond. One second, he was still in the cargo bay. The next, he was right in front of Hal.
The mercenary fumbled for the blaster on his belt, but Kyrion smashed his helmet into Hal’s face. An audible crack sounded as Hal’s nose broke, and he yelped and stumbled back.
The three other mercenaries whirled around and aimed their blasters. Kyrion tossed his helmet at one, then stretched out his hand. Telekinetic power rolled off him, strong and smooth. His sword zipped up off the floor, spun through the air, and settled into his hand. The second his fingers closed around it, the blade pulsed with power.