Page 9

"Here is a lot better than where I came from," Dustin says with a small, but surprisingly defiant voice.

The holding pin finally pushes free from the hinge, and I snatch it before it hits the wood floor.

"Done," I say, breaking the shackles off Dustin's wrists. "Alright. You ready to get out of here?"

"Yes."

"Good."

I have a plan.

Dustin has given me a crucial piece of info—there's a way off of this thing. I was dragged aboard via an extending rope ladderdropped over the side when the ship was hovering at very low altitude—impossible for us to use unless we just so happen to be flying over a pit filled with down feather pillows—but Dustin was taken aboard in another ship, a smaller vessel that we've nicknamed "the buzzer" because of the noise Dustin says it makes. All we have to do is find this thing...and figure out how to make it work. No problem.

I crawl quietly to the door. Just like on the shackles, its lock is archaic and takes just a few seconds to figure out how to break it. I put my eye up to the key hole. It's a hallway. I can't see if there's a guard.

The nail in my palm is like a railroad spike, except smaller. Roughly forged, thick as a pencil on one end with a taper to a point, and five inches long. The worst description if you're talking about your dick, but pretty awesome when it comes to a stealth weapon.

Keeping my eye to the hole, I slowly maneuver the latch and crack the door, waiting to see activity on the other side. Nothing. I pull the door open and peek out, keeping my head low. Clear.

"Stick close to me," I tell Dustin. "If we encounter a threat, and let's assume that will happen, then get your back against the closest wall or behind cover. That will limit angles of attack."

"Okay," he says. "Um, Jackson? What if they come from both sides?"

"Just stick close to me. Hand on my shoulder, so I know you're there."

We enter the hallway, cramped and dimly lit by flickering oil lanterns hanging from iron hooks stuck into the wall planks. A mouse pokes its head out from a hole and scurries along the floor away from us as we proceed forward to the T junction at the end of the hallway.

They'd brought me in from the left, but Dustin in from the right. I can retrace the left pathway in my mind, all the way back to the top deck. The right path is a blank, but that's where we have to go. Into the darkness.

The pulsing beat of the ship's engine, or whatever it is, gets louder as we approach the junction. I press my right palm against the wall and feel the growing vibration. I peek around the corner. Another empty hallway, but this one has several open passageways along it. Lamplight glimmers from the first entrance, and I freeze when the shadow of a wolfman plays across the wall. Slowly, carefully, I slide up to the entranceway. I can just make out two voices now, growling and yapping over the engine noise. Dustin's fingers dig into my shoulder. I motion with my palm—"Quiet, relax."He only squeezes harder. He's shaking in fear.

I drop to one knee and peek around the frame. There are four armed wolves sitting at a table inside what looks like a storeroom. Along two walls are slanted racks with three levels of terra cotta jars sitting on piles of straw, secured with lengths of rope tied around their slender necks.

Dustin shrinks to the floor with his eyes squeezed shut. He's breathing hard and muttering something I can't hear.

Fuck.This would be so much easier if it were just me.

I take a deep breath, and the twinge of frustration settles for the moment. Not all of us are built to be warriors, nor should we be. I'm afraid too, I've just learned to hide it better.

But if this guy gets us both killed...

The wolves laugh about something. One slams his palm repeatedly on the table, cackling with laughter. Their conversation is finished. One stands up—and looks directly at the door.

I pull back and nearly fall onto my ass. Jesus Christ, did he see me?

I can feel the thump of their steps through the wooden floor, and the groaning scrape of a chair being moved. I try to push Dustin back, but he refuses to move. He's frozen in place, clutching my shoulder and the back of my shirt.

I see the wolf's profile in shadow on the wall, his ears perked high. Then I hear him say, "I think my eyes are playing tricks on me."

Double fuck.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

The heavy footsteps grow closer. I flip the nail in my fist to a jabbing position. The best chance I have is to stay crouched and take them by surprise, but son of a bitch, going up againstfourhostiles like this is going to require a goddamn miracle.

The wolf's shadow shrinks into focus as he nears the entranceway. My mind races through the possible scenarios of how this could play out, and I realize that none of them can end well.

There must be a way out of this.All of my training, experience andinstinct, is telling me to look harder and find the one little piece that I'm missing.