Page 24 of Fated to the Hunter (Xarc’n Warriors #13)

I had about a dozen false starts. Each attempt ended with me gasping and hyperventilating like a fish out of water, heart thudding so loud I was sure the flyer outside the door could hear it. But I had a plan. Sort of. And it was time to move.

Step one: get the desk away from the door. Quietly. Which was easier said than done when every tiny scrape felt loud enough to wake the dead. It took forever, but I managed it. Then I was at the door, ear pressed to the thick metal, trying to figure out where the creature was.

Lucky for me, the flyer had barreled into the hallway before folding its wings. Now they were stuck open, scraping against the walls, knocking into pillars, smashing sconces. The noise gave me an audio map of its location.

If I was right, it was down the left side of the corridor.

And I needed to go right, which was great.

Perfect in fact. Except it was a crapshoot how far down the hallway it was, and which way it was facing.

Flyers were surprisingly fast on land, and I needed the mofo dead before it got anywhere near me.

But it was trapped. I couldn’t miss. Right? And I had a Xarc’n blaster, not a rifle. No need to worry about hitting the eye or chambering rounds. Just point, shoot, and pray I hit something vital.

I reached for the door.

My hand didn’t move. My body was locked up tight with fear. Sweat coated my palms, making the blaster slick in my grip.

I’d never chosen to face a scourge on my own before.

Sure, I’d fought them before, but every time it had been out of necessity, something done on pure adrenaline.

But Bael’k was out there in no-man’s-land on his own, injured, with a hostile shuttle, and if I didn’t get my ass into gear right the fuck now and do something , I’d never forgive myself.

I wiped my palms on my pants, readjusted my weapon, making sure the safety was off and it was set at max. I reached for the door again.

I said I reached for the fucking door.

This time, aided by my mental narration, I did it.

I stepped out into the hallway, blaster ready, and faced the creature. Oh crap! It was facing me. The moment it saw me, it let out a shrill cry and started to charge.

In that split second, something shifted. Adrenaline hit like a wave, and the tremble in my hand vanished. The erratic pounding of my heart turned steady, guiding me beat by beat like an internal metronome. The panic was replaced by sharp focus. My breath steadied. My vision narrowed.

I raised the blaster, arms steadied, shoulders squared.

Sam’s voice saying, “Safety, power, brace, and shoot,” repeated in my head. I’d already done the first two, so the only thing to do now was brace and shoot, so I did.

The energy blast felt like it came straight from my fingers, shooting out from the depths of my soul like some magical fireball, and I was some vengeful sorceress.

I leaned into it. And even though the first shot went low and to the left, hitting the creature from hell on the thick body carapace instead of the neck or head, I kept going, buoyed by the surge of will that filled me.

I shot again and again, steady and deliberate, stepping back to give myself more space as the flyer charged forward.

By the time the flyer slid to a halt in front of me, it was riddled with giant holes, its wings were mere tatters, and its head hung by a string of slime. Oh, never mind, there went its head. The hallway was not in much better shape.

Heart still pumping, I ducked back inside the library, glad that the flyer had expired before the library door and I didn’t have to step through it.

Holy fuck! I did it. I fucking did it!

The motherfucker was dead. Ha! Damn, that felt good.

But there was no time to celebrate just yet. I had to move on to phase two of Operation Eyes in the Sky. I giggled, my laugh sounding odd in the room.

I’d teased the Tech Wizards for naming everything an Operation This or That. And here I was doing it myself. It sounded good, though, so I was sticking with it.

I grabbed my pack and tucked the blaster into my waistband—after putting the safety on of course—and slapped a spore-minimizing mask on my face before stepping back out into the hallway.

Ugh! Gross. The flyer was already stinking up the place.

A short trip down the hall and up the stairs later, and I was back inside the observatory, broken window dome and all.

Most of the dead flyer Bael’k had killed here was already gone, having been picked up by its nest mates.

That was fast. Usually, it took them some time to return for the carcasses.

The scourge had an efficient recycling program, and unless we burned the remains quickly, they were often taken back to their nest for processing.

Settling myself under the shadow of the only table in the room, which was covered with hand-scrawled notes by the original owner, I set my plan into motion.

Getting the drones up into the air without being noticed wasn’t that difficult, thanks to their small size and quiet operation. The scourge had become so good at ignoring our drones that we’d had to install tiny but mighty buzzers on them to catch their attention when we wanted to.

But the drones were fragile, so to make sure they were out of harm’s way while getting the Eye-Spies on the flyers, I landed the drones on the roof of the guest house before pulling out the launcher.

The next part was riskier, but I was more worried about my piss-poor aim and wasting my chances than actually getting injured.

If the proverbial shit hit the fan, I’d just run into the stairwell.

It would take the flyers some time to maneuver themselves down the stairs, and I’d shoot them up just like the last one.

However, if the Eye-Spies went hurtling off to Timbuktu, there ain’t no saving the operation then.

That meant I had to get my targets as close as possible before pulling the trigger.

Setting my pack safely inside the stairwell and making sure my blaster was ready at my side, I loaded up the launchers and took a final breath.

Then I stepped out into the open, waving my arms wildly.

“Hey, bird brains!” I yelled, insulting birds worldwide. “Come and get me!”