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  "Let's try again, with a little more violence," she said.

  This time Adena jumped up a foot or so above the floor and brought all her weight to bear. Her arm muscles protested at the abuse, but a sharp ping of metal under stress echoed in the small chamber. She felt something give. More rust fell.

  Greg straightened up. "Once more's the charm?"

  "I hope..."

  The small barred window in the cell door flared with yellow light. Adena stopped what she was doing as the door swung open. Two Quadsang guards bearing flaming torches entered and took up station on either side of the door. The Pure Blood woman followed on their heels. Her left arm terminated below her elbow. Bloody bandages swathed what was left. Tatters of torn and bloodied clothing hung from her spare frame. The woman's face bore a white sheen that went beyond the habitual Pure Blood pallor. Her hair, which had been set in a neat upswept style when Adena had last seen her, now hung in limp strands. Adena felt a renewed thrill of revulsion as she thought of the kind of force and speed required to inflict such injuries on a Pure Blood.

  For a long moment the woman stared at her as smoke trailed up from her guards' torches. The sheer fury on the Pure Blood's face caused Adena's heart to sink with apprehension.

  "You!" The woman's voice cracked around the room. "You brought that thing to our city!" She strode over to Adena, gripped her hair with one hand and dragged her head back until her vertebra creaked under the strain. Eyes the color of basalt glared into Adena's from mere inches away. "You will tell me everything. Everything."

  Adena could only gasp in pain as her hair threatened to tear loose from the roots. The woman snapped her fingers. One of the guards placed his torch in a sconce then came over and bowed to her. The woman stepped back and pointed without looking to Greg. "Hurt him."

  The guard bowed again. He tugged the silvery cylinder she'd seen before from his belt, made an adjustment to a control on the base then went over to Greg. The Quadsang had a calculating look in his eyes as he examined him. Greg shrank back wide-eyed. The guard ripped open Greg's coat and touched the end of the cylinder to his bare chest. A fat blue spark flashed. Greg screamed and convulsed. With clinical detachment, the guard waited until Greg sagged in his chains then touched him again with the device. Greg screamed again, a sound that tore at Adena's heart.

  "Stop!" she shouted.

  The woman looked at her with an eyebrow raised in inquiry. "Well?"

  "The creature came from cargo we hauled here. We had no idea what the consignment contained."

  The woman gestured to the guard. Greg screamed again, and Adena flung herself against the restraints. "Stop it! You're killing him!"

  "Indeed, I will, if you're lying."

  Adena glared at her. "I'm telling the truth, damn you!"

  The basalt eyes glittered in the torchlight. "Very well. Who sent the cargo?"

  "Erasmus the Merchant, of Penumbra City." Adena gazed at Greg, who had fallen limp in his chains. "I speak the truth. Let him be!"

  "Where did he get the creature from?"

  "I don't know. I don't know!" Adena shouted as the guard raised the cylinder again. "Erasmus deals with all kinds of stuff. He has contacts with the tribes living on the day side. Perhaps they traded it with him."

  The woman stepped back and considered. She began to tease her hair back in place and appeared to grow calmer. "The day side. Hmm..." She gestured to her guards. "Come."

  "What about us?"

  The woman ignored her as the three left and the cell door clanged shut.

  Silence fell thick and heavy. Adena had sharp hearing, but she struggled to hear Greg's breathing. She looked at his slack form, hanging in the chains. The red burn marks on his pale chest had already begun to blister. "Greg? Are you alive?"

  After a long moment he raised his head. It took him a few moments to focus on her. "I'm afraid so." His voice was slurred.

  Relief flooding through her, Adena renewed her assault on the staple. The metal creaked and groaned as she rubbed the skin on her wrists raw with effort. At last the staple snapped at one end. Adena took a few deep breaths, then guided the chain through the ragged gap she'd created.

  "Oh boy!" Her arms ached and tingled with relief as her blood began to flow properly through them once more. Thankful the guards hadn't time to secure her ankles in fetters, she crossed the cell and crouched by Greg.

  He greeted her with a tired smile. "Nice to see you here!"

  "Likewise." She examined Greg's chains. "Let's get you free."

  Chapter 9

  Greg winced as pain shot through him in spite of Adena's best efforts to avoid shaking him. It took several minutes of steady work before the chains finally gave way. He groaned as the circulation returned to his arms and he rubbed them hard.

  Adena drew his arm around her shoulders, her strength a comfort in his distress. He felt her breath warm on his cheek, which had become chilled by the prolonged exposure to the cold damp air.

  "Come on. Let's get out of here," she said.

  "The door?"

  "Unlocked. The creature's attack has got them rattled."

  She opened the cell door and held him steady as she peered out into the passageway. "All clear."

  They moved as quickly as they could, Greg committing many a stumble along the way. Twice they ducked into cover as guards hurried past, torchlight trailing in their wake.

  Eventually they emerged from a doorway and came to a familiar area of rubble. Adena sniffed the air. "I can smell burning."

  "I'm not surprised." Greg tried to stand straight, found he could manage it. "There's so much damage around here. Where's it coming from?"

  Adena sniffed again then her face creased in horror. "The ship!"

  She took off at a dead run. Greg's cry of protest at being left behind died as he realized the Oculus Nightingale offered the best chance to escape the hellish city. If it was in peril Adena had to save her ship. Groaning with effort he launched into a shambling run. Adena darted ahead of him, leaping like a gazelle over piles and rubble and broken timbers. Greg tried to follow her course but soon lost her amid the shattered walls.

  He reached the cratered remains of a courtyard and stopped to get his bearings. As he looked around a bright purple light engulfed him and his nerves caught fire. A scream emerged from his throat but seemed to grow distant and muffled as he fell into a warm soup of unconsciousness.

  * * *

  When he came to, Greg found himself looking up into a bearded face that was both repulsive and familiar. The apparition cracked a grin full of ragged teeth. "Well, old horse, I didn't expect to see you again!"

  Greg felt groggy. Nausea swirled in his stomach, and he scrambled to sit upright. A group of equally ragged figures surrounded them, most looking on with curiosity, some keeping watch on their surroundings. He recognized a few faces from his days at the mine although some of the men and women appeared to have found better clothing since the escape. More than a few weapons were evident too. Greg refocused his attention on the grubby creature in front of him. "Mungenast?"

  Mungenast assisted him in standing with rough kindness. The heavy black leather duster he wore creaked as he moved, the front falling open enough to reveal the butt of what appeared to be a sawed-off shotgun. Mungenast grinned again, his gap-toothed teeth stained with some blue substance, the nature of which Greg could only guess at. "Uh huh." He slapped some dust from Greg's coat front. "Accept no substitutes."

  "Where did you come from?" Greg wiped his eyes to ease the gritty feeling in them. "The last I saw of you was at the mine."

  Mungenast sniffed and winked. "My buddies and I made our way into the workings. There's tunnels down there, y'see, and we got into them. They lead here, to this city." He looked around. "What's left of it, anyway. Hoo-ee! What a carve-up!"

  "Did you see some kind of bright flash of light?"

  "Oh yeah, we saw it. Knocked a few of us out, it did." He cocked an eye at Greg. "You too, it seems."

  "W
hat was it?'

  "Dunno." Mungenast gestured vaguely. "It came from over that ways. A few of my boys got toppled by it and we dragged them into shelter. We was getting out of there anyway, too much fighting going on. Stopped now though." He wrinkled his nose. "Could be the flash stopped it."

  "I've got to get out of here. My friends need me," Greg insisted.

  "Friends? Where are they at?"

  "Over that way."

  Mungenast chewed the inside of his cheek. "I saw a mess of those vampires and their buddies heading over there."

  Greg began to walk in the direction of the hangar where the airship had docked. The prevalent cold of the city had worked its way into his bones, and the numbness reminded him of the terrible days spent slaving in the mine.

  Mungenast trotted alongside him. The troop of escaped slaves followed, their eyes watchful as they scanned their surroundings. "You're going to help your buddies?" Mungenast asked.

  "It's what I plan to do." Greg spoke through gritted teeth as he walked. "My friend has an airship, and it could be our only ticket out of here."

  "An airship, huh?" His companion scratched his nose then shook his head. "Nah, it'll be your ticket out. We're sticking around. There are plenty of holes to hide up in. We can play hell with the bloodsuckers." He grinned and his eyes began to swivel. "Maybe I'll steal a train and pay a visit to the mine, break it up real good."

  Greg resisted a shudder of fear at Mungenast's expression. "I wouldn't object if you do."

  A renewed burst of gunfire sounded from ahead. Greg could make out the roof of the hollow building where the Oculus Nightingale had docked. "Oh crap."

  Mungenast waved to a younger man with bristly ginger hair. A shiny new Derby hat sat on top of the bushy mass. "Charlie? Take some scouts, go see what's waiting up ahead."

  Charlie sketched a salute, gestured to a few of his companions and within seconds they'd vanished into the rubble. Mungenast nodded. "Charlie's a good guy. He worked out how to get us through the caves."

  Greg looked at him. "How did you get here so soon? It should take days to travel through a cave system from that mine."

  Mungenast leered. "There are ways and means, old horse."

  He seemed inclined to say no more on the subject so Greg let it drop.

  Greg fretted over the delay taken up by the scouting mission, but acknowledged the sense in not rushing blindly into a firefight. He tried not to think of what Adena and her crew might be going through.

  "You worried about your buddies?" Mungenast asked. Greg nodded. The man shrugged. "Their fate lies in the lap of the gods."

  "That's not exactly comforting, Mungenast."

  "Isn't it?" Mungenast's face screwed up as he thought. "I figured it would be. I've been in worse situations back on Earth."

  "Were you in the military?'

  "Nope. I'm an accountant."

  Greg gave him a sideways look, taking in Mungenast's general appearance and behavior. "For real?"

  "Yeah. Some of those Chamber of Commerce meetings were hell!"

  "You look like a hillbilly." Another cracked grin was all he got for that comment. "How did you come to be here?"

  "Dunno. I was at a restaurant with friends, went to the restroom. Some guy with a real pale face and odd dress sense appeared as I washed my hands then everything went blank."

  "Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but... you weren't a virgin by any chance?"

  "Yeah." Mungenast stared at Greg. "How did you know?"

  Any answer Greg might have given died in his throat as two of the scouts came back. One had a female form over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, and Greg gasped when he saw the woman's face. "Cathy!"

  Forgetting his injuries and the cold, he raced over to help the man lay the unconscious woman on a clear patch of ground. Greg almost pushed the man away in his concern as he bent over her. She had a patch of torn skin on her chin and a trickle of blood ran from a gash on her forehead. "Cathy? It's me, Greg!"

  The scout looked from Greg to Mungenast. "We found her draped over a pile of rubble a little ways off."

  Mungenast sniffed. "Looks like she got in the way of either the bloodsuckers or whatever caused that flash of light. What news out front?"

  "Fighting, boss." The other scout jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "There's a line of Quadsang and human guards trying to get into the hangar. The people in there are keepin' them at bay — for now." She looked at Greg. "If you want to help 'em, we'd better hustle."

  "Then let's hustle." Mungenast nodded at Cathy. "Can you carry her?"

  "I'll try." Greg managed to get his arms under Cathy and lifted her. "Damn, she's heavier than she looks." He hefted her weight to a more comfortable position. "Okay. Let's go."

  They made their way through the mess of rubble and broken walls. Sounds of gunfire echoed. It was hard to pinpoint the source. The scouts returned at intervals to report, impressing Greg with Mungenast's ability to shape the former slaves into a coherent force.

  At last the bulk of the hangar loomed up, and they came to a broken wall. Three scouts knelt in front of it, peering into the cavernous open end of the building. Oculus Nightingale hung in the air, seeming none the worse for wear. Below her silvery shape muzzle flashes flickered like fireflies in the gloom. Gunfire echoed, magnified by the hollow interior.

  Greg laid Cathy on the ground. She half opened one eye and stared up at him, her expression blank. "Cathy?" He patted her wrist. "How are you feeling?"

  Her lips worked and a frown creased her pretty freckled face. "Urrr..."

  "Don't try to talk. You took a nasty bang to the head."

  She closed her eye and appeared to pass out.

  Mungenast ran up and down, ensuring his troops had taken up good positions then peered over the wall and grinned. "The bloodsuckers are lined up end-on to us behind that row of crates. We've gotten onto their flank. Time to roll 'em up!"

  With that he and the others piled over the wall and ran flat out for the hangar. Greg peered wide-eyed at the carnage that ensued. The firing ceased as the bloodsuckers turned to face the surprise attack. Their reactions were as fast as always, but mass and sheer bloody-mindedness favored Mungenast and his crew.

  Greg watched, crouched in cover beside Cathy. A few minutes later the last Overseer was dropped by the blade of an ax. All noise of fighting ceased.

  Adena appeared from somewhere, limping and favoring her right arm. She spoke to Mungenast, who pointed over to where Greg stood. Her expression when she saw him was one of relief. She hobbled over to lean on the wall.

  "I'm glad you made it."

  He smiled. "I'm glad to see you, too."

  Adena peered down at Cathy. "Is this your missing friend?"

  "Yes. She's kinda banged about and out of it right now, but I don't think she's badly hurt."

  "I'll get Conner to look at her."

  Greg gestured to the airship. "How's the ship?"

  Adena gave the huge craft a fond look. "She took a few bullets, but nothing our sailmaker can't fix. The main repairs had finished moments before the Pure Blood gang attacked." She nodded over to where Mungenast and his troops were busy plundering the bodies of the fallen. "Who's that guy?"

  "Mungenast. He was a slave in the mines with me. Somehow after the rebellion they got into a line of tunnels that brought them here."

  "Tunnels?" Adena rubbed her jaw. He thought she looked exhausted. "That's something to remember for future reference. Come on, Greg. As soon as we unmoor we're getting out of here."

  Greg picked Cathy up off the ground and found a way around the wall to where Adena waited. Together they limped and hobbled over to where some of the airship crew and Mungenast's gang had collected the few bodies of the fallen. The two parties eyed each other, but the shared experience of fighting the Pure Blood guards had taken the edge off what might have been a difficult encounter. Two of the crew came forward to take Cathy from Greg, and he sagged with relief.

  Adena touched his arm and poi
nted to the ramp. "Let's get aboard."

  "Wait one." Greg limped up to Mungenast and held out his hand. "Thanks for helping me out."

  Mungenast grinned his unnerving grin and took Greg's hand in a callused grip. "Don't mention it."

  "Are you sure you don't want to come?" Greg looked at Mungenast's gang. "I think there's enough room."

  "Nah. We'll see what we can do here to upset a few bloodsuckers." He flipped Greg and Adena a salute. "Happy trails to you all."

  He signaled to the others, and they walked away, some of them carrying better weapons than they'd entered the fight with. Their dead they left where they lay, which Greg found unfeeling. Adena at least ensured the two crewmen who'd been killed in the firefight had been taken aboard for whatever type of funeral she and her people favored.

  Once aboard Greg made his way to the lounge that bore few traces of the fight with the murriks. Sitting in the window he watched as the mooring ropes were cast off by airship crew. The ship lurched as the last tether came free and the crew hurried to get aboard.

  Greg ached in places that had scarcely healed from injuries inflicted while working the mine and during his escape. At least the lounge was warm enough to thaw his frozen flesh.

  Jake and Conner walked into the lounge, drawing up short when they saw Greg. Conner came forward. "Sir? I've put your friend in the bunk above yours. She's still unconscious, but her vital signs are good."

  "Thanks, Conner." Greg felt a weight lift off his heart and mind. "I appreciate it."

  "Don't mention it."

  Conner went about his business. Jake leaned against a bulkhead and wiped his face with a black bandanna. Greg smiled. "It looks you had some fun here without me."

  Jake gave a wry grin. "Yeah, it was less than pleasant. I'm glad we found your friend before we had to bail."

  "Me too. I hate to think what those bloodsuckers did to her."

  "Nothing much, I think. They like to toy with their victims, make them feel special before sinking their fangs into 'em."