The Blood Racer (The Blood Racer Trilogy Book 1) (31 page)

            Unless they’d already known about it.
            My mind was suddenly a live wire, sparking wildly inside my skull. That had to be what Grace and Beatrice had been whispering about during breakfast. They must have been planning it then. Of course it had to have been Beatrice’s idea, especially after the encounter I’d had with her inside my very ship. She had given me that barely concealed threat, the one about there being plenty of dangers in the race that could do me in. She had clearly been cooking it up all along. And she used Grace as the tool for the job. Even Archons needed a patsy if something were to go wrong.
           The thought sickened me. It also infuriated me. As if I didn’t have enough stacked against me! The Archons themselves were trying to send me into the Veil. I suddenly felt a burning sense of urgency. I wanted to get my ship squared away and get back to the race as
soon
as I could. There were plenty of people I needed to defeat…
              Ahead of me, the sight of Darby rocking her ship from side to side suddenly caught my attention. I leaned forward in my seat and stared out the windscreen, wondering what she wanted me to see. Through the thin, wispy clouds ahead of us, it became clear where she had been leading me. Like New Eden, it was a place I had never been. A floating city like no other, one that was never in the same place twice.
              Ravencog. I didn’t know how she knew where to find it, but there it was.
              Sparks had never done it justice. He had once told me it was as if someone had taken a small village and bolted it together in a giant clump. In truth, he was very right. But the sight of it was so much grander than I’d imagined. I plugged my radio cord into my helmet, but I heard nothing. I wondered if my earphones were shorted out, or if the city was being intentionally silent.
              The closer we got, the more incredible Ravencog was. There were so many pontoons! They floated above the city in a massive herd, all shapes and sizes and colors, and all of them looking oddly speckled from years and years of patching and painting. They were all tethered to the city with a series of thick cables, and they were kept in place by a massive net, which I guessed was to prevent them from escaping if they broke loose. The next thing I noticed were the large wing-like sails that protruded for probably a hundred feet on both sides, supported by metal booms that looked like they were used to help stabilized and steer the city itself. There were propellers jutting from various points in the city, as well, which were probably for extra speed.
              The buildings alone were a marvel of architectural engineering. The city itself was built into tiers, the largest being on the bottom, and getting narrower as it went upward. There were doorways and windows set in some of the strangest ways and places. Absolutely every inch of space had been utilized, even if that meant that some homes or shops were built crookedly or oddly shaped. An extensive system of wooden gangways ran up and down the sides of the city, spiraling around and around, going past all of the doors, and ensuring that every person or family had a way to get around.
              The lowest tier of the city, the largest one, had clearly been the base from which the rest of the city grew. It had actual buildings, ones made of stone, equipped with columns and - in one case - a small dome like the one in Shiloh. As I was gaping at the place, it vaguely occurred to me that I didn’t see any kind of a dock to land on. I knew that there had to be
some
way to land. After all, Darby and Killian both had kept ships here, and Sparks lived here. As we approached, my question was answered.
              Darby dipped down low, flying toward the lower reaches of the city. The bottom of Ravencog, which was rather round and bulbous, started to move. A large section of it began unfurling like a tremendous metal flower petal, revealing an entranceway underneath the base. Darby headed straight for it, and I followed her, slightly nervous about never having docked here before.
              As it turned out, there was plenty of space inside the base of the city. It was all one huge hangar bay, with several dozen ships docked on platforms that could be shuffled and rotated. I killed my engine and flipped on my turbines, which I was thankful were still functioning, and waited as Darby set the
Foxfire
down onto one of the platforms. Once she had been rotated out of the way, I was offered a platform of my own, and gingerly brought my ship down on it, lowering my skids with my left hand. It was much narrower than the cradles I was used to docking on, but I managed it well enough.
              As soon as I was rotated to join the other ships, which were all cramped together, I turned and made my way to the hatch. When I opened it, Darby was already there.
              “If you have valuables, bring them with you,” she said in a low voice. “I love my city, but some people don’t like outsiders, and they might steal from you if they get a chance.”
              I blinked down at her for a moment, and then gave her a nod. Her eyes were still slightly red, no doubt from tears of grief. We both knew why, of course, but if she wasn’t going to bring it up, then I wasn’t either. Hurriedly, I retrieved the satchel that Dan Canter had given me, and made sure everything I needed was in it. I thought about bringing my revolver, but I didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression. Darby said that some people here didn’t like outsiders, so I didn’t want to seem threatening in any way. Then again, if someone was exceptionally unfriendly, I would rather have it with me.
              In the end, I scrambled up to the cockpit and retrieved it from its hidden compartment, holster and all. I fasted it around my waist, taking a moment to adjust it so that it looked as natural as possible, and then exited the ship with my satchel over my shoulder.
              The hangar was very impressive. There was a maze of catwalks and staircases that were interwoven throughout the space, strategically placed so that they would never get in the way of the ships or their platforms. I could see multiple exits, and could only assume that the hangar was accessible from a dozen different spots in the city above. There were plenty of people around, too. They were dressed in coveralls, most of them carrying tool belts around their midsections. I wondered how many mechanics it took to keep this place together and flying. Mostly, I wondered why they all seemed to be glaring suspiciously at me. Were they that paranoid of outside visitors?
              “Here,” Darby said, bounding up a spiral staircase that looked like it was supported by only a few wires. It didn’t give her any trouble, so I stomped up after her. We climbed to the top of the hangar and stopped just outside a thick-looking metal door.
              “It’s going to be pretty loud in here,” she said, looking over at me. “We’ll get some friends to help fix your ship.”
              I nodded, feeling very unsure of myself in these surroundings. Elements of it reminded me of the Gap. The cobbled-together structures, the rugged appearance of the citizens, it was all reminiscent of home. Still, it was foreign territory, and there weren’t many friendly faces…
              Shoving her shoulder into it, Darby forced the door open with a loud scraping noise, and guided me inside. She was right about the noise. It was exceptional. One glance around, and I could see why. This was a machine room. Massive pistons were working feverishly against a nearby wall, and there were several men toting oil cans to keep an eye on them. All around us, massive gears were turning and working together. Some were small, some were large, and some were gigantic. I had no idea what they were for, or how they functioned at all, but they were everywhere. I guessed that everything from water treatment to electrical power to waste recycling all happened in here.
              In front of me, Darby pointed straight ahead, and we hurried over toward a massive console that had been tucked between two huge cranking gearwheels. The console had a small interface, but it looked like it was just part of an even bigger machine that went somewhere else. The console wasn’t what drew my attention, though. It was the hulking man that stood by it.
              “Reinhart!” Darby called, practically screaming to be heard over the cacophony.
              At the sound of his name, the mountain of a man turned toward us and started to approach. I tried, but the sudden stab of fear I felt caused my hand to flick toward the pistol on my hip. Thankfully, the man called Reinhart didn’t seem to notice. As he lumbered toward us, I couldn’t seem to comprehend just how huge he was. He towered over Darby and I. He had to have been nearly seven feet tall, and his colossal frame was nothing but muscle. He wore no shirt, so his monstrous physique was evident. As if this wasn’t intimidating enough, he carried a wrench on his shoulder that was as big as I was, and the hand that gripped it was made of metal. From the middle of his right forearm, his arm had been taken off. In its place was a terrifying metal hand the size of my torso. Unlike John Deseo’s, which had clearly been crafted for him, Reinhart’s robotic hand was much shabbier, and looked like it had been built from leftover scrap metal. I imagined that his real arm had once been caught in the gears, or some other machine, and had been sheared off like the end of a jagged wire.
              He reached up with his normal hand and scratched the enormous scraggly mustache above his lip. “Hey there!” he bellowed, his voice powerful enough to be heard clearly. “Is the race over? Where’s Killian?”
              Darby               lowered her head, and her hands slowly laced together in front of her. She didn’t say anything, but Reinhart heard her loud and clear. The massive man, who was covered in scars and dirt, and looked like the toughest person anyone could ever meet, slumped his huge shoulders in sorrow. He nodded, scratching his buzzed head, and the two of them shared a moment of silence before Reinhart drew a large breath.
              “So who’s your friend?” he asked, centering his brown eyes on me.
              Darby put her hand on my shoulder. “This is Elana Silver.”
              At once, Reinhart’s expression relaxed, and he clearly recognized the sound of my name. “Foxtrot,” he growled. “
You’re
Elana Silver. The Blood Racer.”
              I nodded, suddenly feeling bashful. It seemed even in the bowels of a city of outcasts, they had heard of me. Of course, the race was a monumental occurrence. Everyone in the Dominion would have heard it on the radio.
              “Yep, that’s…me.”
              Thankfully, this imposing man didn’t start gushing like all the others had. He simply looked me up and down, twitching his mustache as his narrow eyes appraised me, and then slowly offered a huge hand, his left one. I tentatively reached out and took it, even though the entirety of my hand fit in the palm of his. He closed his powerful fingers and shook gently.
              “Reinhart Faust. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am,” he said, his voice still perfectly audible over the machinery.
              I gave him a nod, noting that he could easily crush my fingers like matchsticks. “The…pleasure is mine, Mr. Faust.”
              He smirked.
              “Reinhart, we need some help,” Darby began. “Elana’s ship got hit by lightning. It needs some repairs. Do you have anyone on your crew that could help?”
              He stroked his stubble-covered jaw as he thought for a moment. “Well, sure…but…”
              “I’ll pay you,” Darby said, sounding almost desperate. “Do it for me. Please. She’s my friend.”
              “Hold on,” I protested, putting my hand on her shoulder. “Don’t spend your money for me. It’s okay. Don’t do that.”
              Darby looked over at me and gave me a small smile, looking as though she were near tears again. “She’ll get you something nice when she wins the race!” Darby said, looking back up at Reinhart. “Whatever you want. She can win. You know it just as well as I do.”
              It was a good idea. I was impressed with Darby’s quick thinking, and I looked up at Reinhart, feeling like a child asking her father for permission to go somewhere.
              The giant man drew a deep breath and straightened his back, somehow managing to appear even taller. In one deft motion, he hefted the monstrous wrench off his shoulder and let the end of it drop to the floor with an ear-splitting bang. I winced at the impact, and had to resist the temptation to back several steps away as he leaned it against his console.
              Twitching his mustache again, Reinhart peered down his nose at me. “I like candy,” he said simply.
              I blinked for several seconds. “Candy?”
              He nodded. “I want Shiloh candy. The good stuff.”
              I couldn’t help but laugh, but it came out in nervous bursts. “I…yeah, of course. Repairs for some candy. The good stuff.”
              He seemed satisfied as he plodded away from us. “Noah! Minjun! Moore!” he bellowed, leaning over a railing to shout into the hangar below. “Grab Ren and Watts and whoever else you can. On me!”
              There were several shouts from beneath us, and I didn’t even get to thank him before he was vaulting over the railing with nothing but a thin rope in his metal hand to support him. Hopefully, I would get a chance to thank all of them personally.
              “Come on,” Darby said, giving me a nudge. “Let’s get you some food.”
              I nodded, feeling my stomach rumble at the mention of a meal. “That sounds stellar.”
              The two of us made to leave, but were stopped short by the appearance of another body as it slid out of the ceiling down a long, metallic pole. When he landed, he stood up and looked around him, looking rather dazed and perplexed. Had he just been roused from a nap, or something? His face and hands were covered with soot, as though he’d been welding, or working with some other chemical. His hair was long, but stood out wildly in all directions. I couldn’t decide if it was an intentional styling or not.