Skin Dive (37 page)

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Authors: Ava Gray

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: Skin Dive
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“Show off,” Gillie muttered. “Don’t do that again. We don’t need them to go out in such a spectacular fashion.”
Dunn nodded. “True. They just need to die.”

 

He’s not going
to make it,
Gillie thought. If she hadn’t been so angry, she would be heartbroken. But Taye’s face told the truth; he was all cheekbones and eyes, skin pale as parchment. Even his lips had lost all color and the sclera carried bloody veins, expanding each time he powered up. By the time he finished, they would be crimson. Of course, by the time this was done, he would be dead. Understanding why he’d been so determined to push her away didn’t make it better.
He did dial down the juice as they pushed forward, clearing the corridors one by one. More men died. She shot some of them herself. The first time she nailed a guard, she expected to feel . . . something. Pleasure, guilt, remorse, but there was nothing. There was no room for anything but grim determination. Taye had the flash drive, but if—when—he fell, she or Dunn would take it from his cold, dead fingers and carry on.
No.
The idea of a world without him in it threatened to end her. With iron control, she edged the pain aside.
I’m still here. Just because he made the choice for me doesn’t mean it has to stand. If we get through this, I can save him.
The bastard had to have known she’d heal him; therefore, it rendered his refusal to confide inexplicable.
Live through this, Taye. Live. Afterward, we’ll fight and I’ll fix you. It’ll be fine.
As he swung around a corner, Dunn executed some pencilpusher who was working late. But Gillie didn’t feel sorry for him. This was Foundation headquarters—a mythical place for her kind—and he had to know what went on here. No way to avoid the horror; it was everywhere.
She paused long enough to slice her palm.
Never know when the plague-touch will come in handy.
Gillie curled her fingers up to prevent either of them from noticing.
The last push went in a blur of gunfire and lightning. She ran out of ammo in the last hall and dropped the gun; without a fresh magazine, it was just a paperweight. Her eyes stung, but they pressed forward. All the way down to the end. The server room had a complex electronic lock, and none of them could hack, but fortunately, Taye had a workaround. He strode up and fried it. Presuming system malfunction, the door popped open so as not to trap anyone working in the core.
“We made it,” she said in excitement. “Let me take it. You two stand guard.”
In answer, Taye tossed her the flash drive and she caught it. Gillie hurried forward; with shaking hands, she plugged it into the USB port. Almost immediately, there came a response. The whole system chugged and whined; whatever the hell was happening, it was powerful.
She bounced on the soles of her feet, remembering Hawk’s instruction.
No matter what, you can’t leave that behind.
The green light flashed on the drive, telling her the software was still running.
Come on, come on.
From outside in the hall, she heard fighting—gunfire and lightning. Dunn and Taye must be battling another team. Just as well she had this under control; they couldn’t help her.
“It wondered if you would get this far.” The strange, androgynous voice came from behind her.
Oh. Fuck. I screwed up.
In her eagerness to start the download, she hadn’t cleared the room. Or at least, she hadn’t made sure there wasn’t a second one, adjacent to the first. Behind the row on row of computer equipment, there was a low arch . . . and an inner chamber.
Shit.
Gillie spun slowly, her hands in the air. The creature she beheld didn’t even look human. It had no hair anywhere on its body; it was thin and pale, so she could see the blood running in its veins. But despite the horror of its appearance, she could clearly see its human ancestry. Whatever it was, it had been bred by the Foundation.
Dear God.
“Who are you?” Her voice shook.
“It,” the thing replied. “It oversees all operations. It decides what research to pursue, what branches to prune. It is cleverer than its creators. They would terminate it and shut it down.”
What. The. Fuck.
“So you’re responsible for all of
this
?”
“Not its own creation. That would be paradox. But otherwise . . . yes.” It gazed at her from bloodred eyes, deceptively thin and fragile.
They were still fighting outside.
So there’s not gonna be any rescue. Just me . . . and it. And maybe that’s how it ought to be. I gotta get close enough to touch it. Assuming it shares enough of our DNA for the plague-touch to work.
That wasn’t a given; it might be a hybrid.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“Yes. It calculates high probability of escape and genesis of new protocols. Humans comprised of interesting genetic stock.” The thing talked like an alien, although it wasn’t.
It came from these labs. Christ almighty, what have you people done?
The blood on her palm felt sticky, but it should be fresh enough to work. The cut hadn’t scabbed over yet anyway—and the thing launched itself at her, jaw unhinging to reveal row after row of sharklike teeth.
Path of least resistance.
Gillie let herself drop and it came down on top of her. Instead of fighting to avoid harm, she dug her nails into its skin until she drew blood. That left her open to the terrible agony of its bite, but she ignored the damage and clamped her hand over the scratches.
Die, you bastard-thing. Die in agony. Die in tumors and boils and blood streaming from your mouth.
She poured all her terror, all her anguish into the touch and felt the moment it caught fire, streaming like napalm into the creature’s veins. It howled and shook, its flesh boiling over its bones with the virulence of what she gave it. The weight of its corpse pressed her into the floor, and for a moment, she had no strength to move. Weakness wracked her limbs; her breath came in tearing gulps.
Outside, the gunfire stopped at last, and there was no lightning at all. Just silence. Somehow, that seemed more ominous than anything that had happened yet.
“Shit,” she heard someone say.
Dunn. That’s his name.
Footsteps. The monster rolled off her, though not under its own power. Through bleary eyes, Gillie recognized the bounty hunter. He had a machine pistol in one hand, and he was covered in blood. So was she.
“What the fuck is that?” This, from a hardened veteran of private wars—in his shock and horror, his accent intensified, becoming clearly northern England.
“A dead monster, one they bred, and it eventually took over from the scientists.”
“Jesus.” He bent to examine the body, the tensile limbs, the too-thin skin, bulbous forehead and unnatural jaw; her handiwork showed in the bloody discharge from the nasal slits, tumors still growing beneath the skin, even after death, and the darkening of the dermis from internal hemorrhaging.
“It bit me. Let’s hope it wasn’t venomous and that its condition isn’t contagious.”
“How bad is it? Can you walk?” He offered a hand up, pulling her away from the thing.
“I can, thank you. Where’s Taye?”
“I’m sorry.”
“
No
.” Shaking off the hunter’s hands, she stumbled over to the computer and snatched the flash drive before staggering out into the hall where he lay.
“I’m sorry,” he said again as if that could change anything. “He gave too much. There were so many men trying to get in there to you. He cooked twenty of them. Hell of a thing, never saw anybody fight like that. He saved my life. Yours, too.”
“He’s not dead. I won’t let him be. Now pick him up. We’re not leaving him here.”
Something in her face must have persuaded him she wasn’t fucking around because he didn’t argue. A tremor rocked the building, sending them both into the walls.
Real earthquake or something one of the weirdoes could do?
Either way, it didn’t matter. It was time to get the hell out of here.
Gillie led the run, armed with a gun she’d taken off a fallen goon; this time, she had the presence of mind to snatch a couple of spare magazines. They formed reassuring bulges in her pocket. Her arm throbbed where it had bit her; she would bear fresh scars. None of it mattered.
Save him.
The words looped in her brain as she pushed through the stragglers while the building trembled all around them. By the groaning sounds, the damn thing was coming down—structurally unsound. Dunn followed without a complaint; he was a strong bastard and he had better be, if he didn’t want her to shoot him.
If Taye dies—
No. Not an option. She wouldn’t let it be. Just as he hadn’t given her a choice about his death, she wouldn’t give him a choice about his life.
Stairs.
Gillie pushed into the stairwell and ran, full out. More tremors now. A chunk of ceiling collapsed behind them as she sprinted, landing by landing.
At last, they hit the ground floor, and she followed the signs for maintenance staff. Those exits rarely had much security.
Metal door, regular lock.
Gillie shot a hole in it and stepped out into an alley, complete with Dumpsters. Heron had ported them into a skyscraper. She had no idea what city they were in.
“Find me a private place to work on him,” she demanded.
“The rendezvous point—”
“
Fuck
them. You move or I shoot you.” She cocked the gun to show she meant business.
“I hear you.” But by his expression, he thought it was too late; he was humoring her.
Dunn led the way to a fire escape. He showed his strength by boosting her to the ladder, even encumbered as he was. Gillie lowered it for him, so he could climb. This looked like a condemned apartment building. Good enough. There might be squatters, but if they had any sense, they’d clear the fuck out. The window was already broken and the place smelled of cat piss, but there was no time to seek something better.
“Lay him down.”
She knelt beside Taye, checking for pulse.
Ah, thank you.
It was there, thready but there. He was breathing faintly, a death rattle in his chest. But he hadn’t gone. Not yet. Even now, he was fighting for her. For them. He might not know it, but he was. If he’d passed, there would be nothing for her to do, here. She couldn’t heal death.
“You can really fix him?” Dunn asked.
“I think so. Do you have a knife?”
In silence, he handed it over and she made a very shallow cut on Taye’s palm and sealed her own injured hand to it. Fear trickled in her veins, ice and sorrow. No dialysis machine here. She didn’t start slow; there was no time. Gillie opened her healing to him like throttling back on a motorcycle, and his sickness slammed her.
Christ. How did he survive this? The stupid bastard let it get to terminal stages.
Agony spiked into her stomach, and then the blackness seeped into her veins. Her vision flickered—she’d never attempted to save anyone so far gone before. But she wouldn’t give up.
If only one of us walks away, let it be him.
Through a veil of tears, she gazed up at Dunn. “Whatever happens, don’t let me stop touching him . . . even if I waver, even if I fall. Do you
understand
?”
The bounty hunter nodded. He knelt, cupping his hands over hers, and that was enough. At long last, the shadows took her in a whisper of leathery wings.
CHAPTER 27
The door opened
and closed. Tanager had chosen this chair so he wouldn’t see her right away.
Not very feng shui, traitor.
“You were clever,” she said.
She had been sitting here for over two hours, lying in wait. It was dark in the apartment—nice place, after what he’d done, he ought to live in squalor—and her words visibly startled the man who had just come home. She barely made out his shape in the shadows, but she didn’t need light to see justice done. She had been right, before, before Mockingbird called her away.
But it was time now.
Finally, Kes. God, I’m sorry it took so long.
“I take it you found the leak.” He dropped his keys into a bowl on the table to the left of the door, weariness lacing his voice.
“Bingo.”
“I wondered if anyone would ever catch me. Mockingbird had you following the wrong people for ages.”
“Oh, I know, trust me.” She tapped one long, black fingernail against the sole of her boot. “And see, that’s the thing. It wasn’t until I started asking myself, who has access, who could’ve done this, that I first looked in your direction. Why would you betray us like that? Apart from that one breach of trust, you worked tirelessly to shut them down. Problem was, you left no trail, so I had supposition, not proof. You hate the Foundation
so
much—I couldn’t figure your angle.”
He propped himself against the wall. “Did you work it out?”

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