He passed a phalanx of uniformed lawmen charging in. One of them tried to stop him, gesturing to the females he carried and particularly to Daria, but Tagen bulled past him and he did not pursue. They did not yet know that Tagen was responsible for the chaos, but he could not count on their ignorance for long.
He found Daria’s groundcar among those in the parking bay and set the humans inside, bundling them both together in the rear hold while Grendel looked on from the front seat, its golden eyes almost prissily shocked at the intrusion. Tagen took the keys from Daria’s pocket, slammed the hatch, and crawled into the front of the car where he spent several nerve-wracking minutes trying to work the controls for the captain’s chair so that he could fit in it.
He could pilot this. He could pilot sixteen different spacecraft, all of which were a hell of a lot more complicated than a groundcar. He’d watched Daria piloting it, and it didn’t look that difficult. He could pilot this. And he’d better, because sooner or later, the police would lock down the parking bay. If he were captured—
Tagen fit keys one by one into the trigger-slot until he found the one that ignited the engines. Immediately, something began to chime at him. Tagen scanned the console frantically and his eye lit on a flashing icon of a figure in a harness. Tagen tapped it hesitantly but the chimes continued to sound. What did it mean?
He couldn’t wait for Daria to wake and tell him. His entire body locked and rigid, Tagen put his hand on the directional indicator and pushed it into gear. The groundcar rolled backwards; Tagen stomped on a pedal and the car’s movement became a lurch that slammed it into the face of another groundcar.
“Shu-ra!” Tagen hissed, and shifted again. This time, when he pushed at the pedal, the engines raced but did not propel. More police were coming. Humans were all around him in their own groundcars, blasting their klaxons at each other as they swarmed back onto the road. He pushed harder at the pedal and felt the car actually shaking as the engines roared.
“Fucking thing, fire up!” Tagen bellowed. He shoved at the directional indicator a third time and finally the groundcar hit ahead-full. Tagen spun the steerer wildly and the car kicked up a spray of earth before leaping into motion. He managed to avoid impact with the trees that had shaded the vehicle, but he did rip out a large amount of undergrowth as he navigated the groundcar around in a wide arc.
At least he was moving. The right pedal was the accelerator. The left, the full-stop. If he remembered that, he’d be fine. At the first opportunity, he would stop and see to Daria’s injury, and find a way to bind his human prisoner before she woke. E’Var was on foot for now. There was time to get ahead of him, time to interrogate his prisoner and find out where he was going. There was time.
And even if there wasn’t, Tagen didn’t care. Daria came first. Let E’Var leave Earth ahead of him, and he could still pursue and someday capture him and repay him for Daria’s injury.
Or avenge her death.
No, he would not even think such a thing.
Tagen navigated onto the main road and aimed himself west. The smell of blood was thick in the close confines of the vehicle. Daria made no sound at all.
Tagen drove.
*
Kane ran.
Raven bounced on his shoulder, a burden of uncaring weight. He could feel the beating of her heart on his back. It was the only sign of life she gave him, but it was a warming one. He could go much faster without her, he knew, but it was not an option. He would leave the Vahst before he left her.
Where was he? They’d been traveling west for some time already, but where the hell was he? He couldn’t afford to get turned around now, blunder out into the road or, hell, into the Fleet officer’s path.
He didn’t think anyone was following him. The Fleet-man had run off with his wounded ichuta’a and he would probably be going just as far as he could as fast as possible, just like Kane. With any luck, the fucker’s face would be on the tee-vee by nightfall, and that would be a great help to Kane.
The heat was killing him and adrenaline could only take him so far. He couldn’t keep running.
Kane let his legs carry him to a stop, let Raven slide from his arms to the ground. He put his back against a tree and leaned into it. His hands rose and pressed to his ribs, as though he were trying manually to slow his heart, stretch out his breath. Gravity pulled him down, his legs splaying out before him. He sat, talons flexing in the dry soil, and tried to orientate himself in the here and now.
He’d hit the Fleet officer’s human. A shit shot in the leg, but he’d hit her. And if his gun hadn’t run out of bullets, he’d have hit her again. He hoped the bitch bled out.
Raven lay before him, by all appearances lifeless.
He hoped he had the chance to try again before he left Earth. He wanted to kill her right before the fucker’s eyes. The Fleet fucker who had dropped his Raven.
Kane opened the panel on his wrist band and activated his locator. He was still some three hundred thirty kilometers east and north of where his ship was. Three days and then some, and that was going to be hard fucking travel with Raven and him on foot.
Raven. The slave-fucker had dropped his Raven, told him he was prepared to kill her.
Kane reached out and caught her arm, towing her into his lap. He ripped off his coat, shredding a sleeve in his fury to be free of it, and then pulled her against his sweat-oiled chest. He felt her skin on his, watched the pulse throb in her throat.
She was stunned, that was all. He needed to get a grip on himself. Now was not the time to lose control.
Kane stood up, Raven cradled in his arms. His sides still burned, his breath felt hot and raw and his muscles were weak and watery, but at least he no longer felt faint or nauseated. What he felt instead was the itching of Heat deep in his tsesac, which meant that he needed to focus up and forget about revenge long enough to get away. He started walking west.
He had a lot of ground to cover.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The first thing she felt, oddly enough, was the rock or root or whatever that was pressing painfully up at her underneath her shoulder blade. And that was all she felt for a while, even after her eyes opened and she saw the man above her, rocking her in hard rhythm. His was a familiar face, so much so that even though she couldn’t come up with a name right away, she wasn’t alarmed to wake up and find herself being fucked by him.
She put a hand on his sunburned and sweat-damp shoulder, and his eyes snapped open, monster-closet black and reflecting nothing. “Raven,” he rasped, and that felt right so she nodded. She was feeling more now—his weight, his heat, the sweat raining down from his body, the massive club pushing in and out of her—and all of it was fine and familiar. Her eyes slid shut, dozing, and she didn’t open them again until he was finished.
His weight went away, and then she was being pulled up and against the slick plane of his chest. He whispered her name, prying her eyes open one at a time, and then bit her on the cheek, chin and throat.
“Kane,” she said and smiled with weak pride. His name was Kane. A little more lucidity snuck in and she managed to look at him. “What happened?”
He snarled explosively, but it was not directed at her. His arms tightened around her to the point of pain. “We need to go now,” he said.