Shattered Soul (2 page)

“Stupid bitches!” Snarling, he swung up his sword again.

Immediately the Reekas sprang to the defence only to be forced backwards once more as a burst of cold air shot up from the crack, the area turning freezing cold almost immediately. The walls of the cave glittered with shards of ice within seconds.

“What the hell...?” One of the hunters yelled above the roar growing in crescendo. “What the hell is happening?”

“Back!” Another called. “Everyone get out! Now!”

The hunters started to move fast, slipping and falling as the ground beneath them lurched and swelled in a rippling effect that was nauseatingly frightening. It was as though some living, breathing entity was rearing up from the very earth.

Ceri and Rani took one look at each other and then started forward. Another blast of air shot up from the huge crack and they both felt the ice forming on their faces, little shards that clung to their lashes and hair, freezing the blood flowing from their injuries.

Unable to see properly, Ceri crouched and held her sword in front of her. Swearing, she tried to focus through the cold fog, but then it was too late.

A flash, a cry of surprise, and a split-second of stillness. Heart in her throat, she swung her head around, horror filling her. Horror and fear and despair.

Rani was down on one knee, her sword at her feet and one hand at her throat. Blood spilled down under her palm and between her fingers. She made a choked sound and looked up, her beautiful eyes wide in shock.

Her throat was cut. Her sister’s throat had been cut! Even as Ceri stared, Rani lowered her head, her hand tightening around her throat as though in an effort to stem the lifeblood pumping hotly from beneath her hand to drench the front of her sleeveless vest.

A blast of frigid air burst forth from the crack. Ceri couldn’t move. Still staring in horror at her sister dying before her eyes, she couldn’t reach out, couldn’t touch her—

And then there was nothing.

The cave shuddered, a shower of rocks falling from the ceiling. Men shouted, dust rose, and the rocks continued to fall, making a solid wall between the adversaries.

Ceri and Rani heard nothing. Surrounded by ice, one warrior frozen in the split second before she dies, the other frozen in horrified awareness...

Years pass...

Chapter 1

Hunter’s Hole

Edge of the Lawful Sector

The rain, as always, teemed down heavily. It never seemed to stop in this bloody place. Not that Abra cared. Standing beside the bounter y hunters’ ship, he watched as the men of his pack brought the bodies of the dead outlaws from the freezer unit beneath the ship. The loaded trolleys were guided over to the waiting freezer units of the Peacekeepers’ craft.

Silently the bounty hunters and peacekeepers worked together, empty trolleys coming from the back of the crafts to replace the ones loaded up with dead bodies. The full trolleys slipped into the back of the waiting crafts and the empty trolleys slid back into the freezer unit beneath the bounty hunters’ ship. Ricna pressed the switch and the doors of the freezer unit slid shut. The ramp attached to the unit pulled back up and the freezer unit rose into the air and drew back into the holding bay of the hunters’ ship, ready for the next lot of outlaws they hunted.

Not that every outlaw was shot dead. There were holding cells inside the ship, too, but Abra and his pack didn’t believe in messing about with bringing in outlaws dead or alive. If the outlaws fought too hard, well hell, they were worth as much dead and a lot less trouble, so the freezer unit was where the more troublesome outlaws ended up.

Finally it was all done and the Head Peacekeeper strode over to Abra, giving him a curt nod as he came under the shelter of the hunters’ ship.

Abra nodded back to him and waited as he tallied up the head count and bounties on his handtronic. Unlike further in the Lawful Sector, most peacekeepers on the edges of the Lawful Sector appreciated the bounty hunters. They knew what it was like to live with outlaw attacks and so they aligned themselves with the bounty hunters willingly.

It didn’t mean they were the best of friends, hell, no hunter trusted anyone else except another hunter, but they shared an understanding with each other. They were on the same side of the law with one goal in mind, stop the outlaw activity.

Well, actually, the law was interested in stopping the outlaws. The bounty hunters were interested in the bounties. Dinnos. But the common ingredient was catching outlaws. As long as they were caught, both hunters and peacekeepers were happy.

“Nine hundred and twenty thousand dinnos.” The peacekeeper looked up at him. “Tallies with your amount?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. The amount is being transferred into your account now.” He looked around at the hunters coming under the shelter of the ship. “Staying for a while?”

“Time to stock up and relax a bit,” Abra replied, his own gaze flicking across the drawn features of his pack.

They were all hard-eyed, their features set grimly. But the last fight had been hard and some of them nursed injuries that would benefit from some rest and relaxation. That they would find in this settlement, for it held the Hunter’s Hole, one of several bounty hunter gathering places where the packs could rest and socialize with other packs. No outlaw would attack a hunters’ resting-house, even on the edges of the Lawful Sector, not unless they were on a suicide mission.

The peacekeeper left and Abra and his pack secured the ship and then made their way into the settlement. The paved roads saved the street from becoming a mud hole but visibility was almost nil by the time they entered the Hunter’s Hole.

They were greeted with a blast of warmth, heavy music, the smell of cooking food, and the rise and fall of voices laughing and talking. Many of the hard-eyed hunters looked up and greeted Abra’s pack.

The clothes of the bounty hunters in the Hole were as varied as the hunters h="the hunthemselves but all carried the same kind of weapons—daggers, swords and lasers, and more than a few bullwhips were coiled at waists.

Vane, Menac, Jarvis and Nat peeled away from Abra and Ricna and headed for the bar to greet some of their friends.

“Abra!” A rough, hard-eyed bounty hunter with a flashing gold tooth gestured to him.

“Creed.” Abra raised his hand in greeting.

Ricna’s tanned features lost the tightness as he and Abra approached the table. “How’s life…
Dad
?”

Creed’s brow darkened. “Listen, it’s bad enough that Des’s damned Daamen trader calls me that - ”

“I think it’s sweet.” He batted his eyelashes.

“That bastard just looks at me with that quiet smile of his.” Creed took a deep draught of his ale. “I’d bash his face in for him if...”

“You weren’t so scared that giant would drag you face first through the mud then hang you up to dry?”

A smug look crossed Creed’s craggy face. “He wouldn’t dare hurt his father-by-marriage. My Des would protect me.”

“Des would be a little hard-pressed to know who to hit first, wouldn’t she?” Abra drawled, sitting down opposite his friend. “Or is she too busy in the Security now to worry about that kind of thing?”

“Hell, she’d probably get Sabra to sort you two out.” Ricna laughed.

“Des loves her daddy,” Creed replied, a softening to his normally hard eyes. “And Simon treats her like fragile glass, so I guess I can hold back on trying to wipe the floor with that trader.”

Ricna gave a snort of laughter.

Creed gave him one steely look then turned his attention to Abra. “I heard you had a lucrative trip.”

“Yeah.” Abra looked up at the tavern wench who was waiting for his order. “Hot una and a bowl of stew.”

“Same,” Ricna said when she looked at him.

She sent him a wink and left with a saucy sway of her hips.

Creed shook his head. “Are there any whores who don’t love you?”

“I can’t help it if I’m so handsome.”

“Yeah, well hunters shouldn’t be handsome.”

“Jealous, Creed?”

“Look at your boss.” Creed pointed at Abra. “No one could love that face except his mother.”

Mildly amused, Abra leaned back in the chair.

“You’ll hurt his feelings,” Ricna said.

“Have to have feelings for them to be hurt,” Creed replied. “Hard face, hard man, hard job. Not a sissy looking piece like you.”

“Why, Creed, duckie.” Ricna placed one hand on his chest. “I didn’t know you noticed my sweet looks. I’m flattered.”

Creed gestured rudely.

“After maybe.” Ricna made kissy sounds. “Right now, I’m looking for female company. If I ever get desperate, though—”

“I’ll never be that desperate,” Creed informed him. “I’ve gone months without a woman. I can last.”

“Ooohhh.” Ricna shuddered in mock deliciousness. “All that testoy, l that sterone built up. Oh my, Creed, you just do it for me!”

“Your man is seriously crapped,” Creed informed Abra.

“I know,” Abra said.

“How the hell do you handle him on the ship?”

“Lock him in his cabin with dirty pictures, a tube of lube and a glove.”

Creed’s gold tooth flashed as he grinned lopsidedly.

Abra nodded to the tavern wench as she reappeared with a tray and put the bowl of stew and mug of una down in front of him. She did it without even glancing at him for her attention was focused on Ricna.

More than used to the tavern wenches ogling his handsome pack member, Abra got on with eating, swallowing the not-quite hot food with relish, sighing inwardly as it chased the cold away.

Ricna flirted with the tavern wench, sending her away with a promise to accompany her to a room upstairs once he’d eaten. Then he set to, enjoying his meal with gusto.

“Sad.” Creed shook his head. “Very sad.”

Ricna grinned.

The next hour passed pleasantly as Abra relaxed, enjoying the banter that went with chatting with good friends. Ricna disappeared upstairs with his wench, and Van and Menac soon disappeared upstairs as well.

The talk switched from women to outlaws, to home and the fastest, most reliable ships available as other hunters came and went at the table.

The chill wind and scent of rain came through the door as hunters entered and left the Hole. Abra didn’t take notice when it opened yet again, but he did look up when a heavy-set man with a scar running down one side of his face took the empty chair next to him.

“Falyon.” He nodded.

“Abra,” Falyon rumbled in his deep voice. “Creed.”

“How’s it going?” Creed greeted him.

“Interesting. Very interesting.” Falyon turned to Abra. “I have some something you might be interested in.”

Abra raised one brow. “Oh?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Falyon withdrew a photo image and handed it to him. “Here.”

For several seconds Abra wasn’t sure what he was looking at but then he blinked and held it up higher, gazing intently at it. Surprise raked through him. He looked at Falyon. “What the hell...?”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Picking up Abra’s half-full mug of una, Falyon took a sip. “Ugh. Where’s the sugar in this?”

“A real man doesn’t need sugar,” Creed informed him, while putting four heaping spoonfuls of sugar into his own steaming cup.

“So what’s that you’re doing?”

“I’m so hard, I need a bit of softening up.”

Falyon snorted.

Creed looked curiously at Abra, but Abra returned his gaze to the photo image to make sure he’d seen correctly.

Shooting stars of Cyron. He couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Two women, one kneeling with a coating of red on her vest. Her head was tipped forward, the long hair so dark a red as to almost be black, partly obscuring her face. The other woman was turned partially towards her, her sword frozen in place, her gaze horrified, shocked. Her almost white brp.ost whiaid hung over one bloody arm.

But they were stunningly beautiful, and both were dressed in clothes Abra knew so well. Knew because he’d hunted their kind years ago, knew because their kind was now walking free.

The photo image didn’t allow a clear view of the two women but he didn’t have to look too hard to make out their clothes. Their long legs were encased in rawhide boots strapped up to the knees and they wore short leather skirts and tightly laced, sleeveless, leather bodices. A wide silver band encircled their left upper arms and even though he couldn’t make it out, he knew they each had small silver hoops piercing their ears, two in the left and four in the right.

He knew because the two women he was looking at were Reeka warrior women. Injured, bloody, and obviously captured on image at one exact second.

One second when one was mortally injured and the other horrified.

Abra looked at Falyon. “Reekas?”

“Yeah.” Falyon took another swallow of the una.

“Reekas?” Creed looked sharply at Abra.

Abra looked back down at the image photo, this time studying the surroundings. Rock was falling, dust rising. A cave-in somewhere. A cave-in and two warriors.

This wasn’t good. Interesting, but not good.

Handing the photo image to Creed, Abra looked at Falyon. “Where did you take this? What happened?”

“I didn’t take it.” Falyon motioned to a serving wench. “It was taken by a bounty hunter during a hunt.”

“A hunt?” Abra frowned. “So this was taken what—eleven or more years ago? The Reekas were pardoned eleven years ago.” A sudden thought struck him. “Unless a couple have gone rogue?”

“No chance of that. I think. One never knows with those bitches.” Falyon shook his head. “This was taken fourteen years ago on the outskirts of the Outlaw Sector.”

“Who by?”

“Martz and his pack were hunting these two during their outlaw years. He hunted them into a cave and they were fighting when something weird happened.”

“Weird?”

“Some kind of ice thing. Like a snap freeze. Those two warriors were caught in it.” Falyon tapped the kneeling warrior in the photo image as Creed placed it on the table. “He’d managed to cut this one’s throat during the freeze and cave-in. Lucky cut.”