of the Rapture pod seemed to have waned, and she felt less inclined to dance. The badge on her palm still throbbed hotly, reminding her that she needed to rest.
She peered through the gloom behind the stairs. The crowds were thinner under this end of the dais, spread among tables and stools. Screens ran across the back wall, jutting out in L shapes. She walked over and looked behind one.
A couple was lying on a couch. Retra saw their legs entwined and their hands moving inside each other’s clothing.
She backed out, shocked.
‘Whatcha doin’, Retra-Seal?’ said a slurry voice, in her ear.
Retra jumped. It was Krista-belle from the kar; one of the White Wings. The girl swayed, as if she was having trouble keeping her balance, and her breath smelt strange, like burnt oranges.
‘Have you seen the girl I was with? Suki?’ Retra asked her.
The girl shook her head and pointed. ‘Jus’ gonna have a little lie down in there. Not feeling so good.’
‘Where’s your … where’s Kero?’
‘Can’t find him.’ She shrugged unhappily and staggered off behind one of the screens.
Retra thought about following her to see if she was all right, then changed her mind. She’d just met Kristabelle; she didn’t need to watch over her. Instead, she walked a circuit of the dance floor looking for Suki, but it was more crowded than before. She ended up back in the same spot in front of the screens.
Her palm was stinging now. She had to leave. Perhaps she could ask Krista-belle to tell Suki that she’d gone back to Vank.
She went over to the screen and knocked.
When there was no answer, she looked behind it. She couldn’t see Krista-belle but a Riper lay on a couch with her back to Retra, her coat and boots a stark outline against the pale covering.
As Retra began to retreat, a movement caught her attention. The glimpse of a frantic hand, fist closed and pumping, beating at the Riper’s back.
Krista-belle’s hand.
Retra knew what that movement meant. She’d used it on the warden, in her dreams, beating at his head as he held her down to inspect her thigh.
She took a few steps closer. Music drowned voices. Shadows cloaked detail. But she saw the side of the Riper’s scarred face clearly enough.
Brand.
She wanted to run away from what was happening but she couldn’t. She knew that frenzied movement. The cold fear in her belly warmed, and then slowly began to boil. She tried to contain the angry welling with Seal discipline; tried to quiet her thoughts.
Calm is my reward.
Calm is my reward.
She’d never shown her anger when her father had whipped her. Or when he’d denied her food as penance. Even when the warden pawed at her thigh, and the softer parts around it, she’d never let her control slip …
Calm is my reward.
Calm is my –
But this time her mantra failed her. The sight of Brand smothering Krista-belle set loose a fury in her that deepened and widened with each breath. She hadn’t been able to stop the warden but she could –
The Riper shifted, crouching over the girl’s exposed breast. Krista-belle’s red hair spilled out as she strained away, face contorted with terror.
Retra ran out into the club, looking for something – anything. She snatched up a stool and returned with it lifted high above her head.
‘Stop!’ she cried.
But the Riper didn’t hear her, or chose not to.
‘Please … stop!’
Nothing. Just Kristabelle’s panic and revulsion, and the Riper’s sickening intent.
Anger raged through Retra. Clutching the stool tightly, she brought it down as hard as she could onto Brand’s back.
The Riper arched back in pained surprise. She rolled off the couch, unnaturally quick and agile, her mouth open, teeth bared.
Retra froze in the grip of her bestial stare.
Freed of Brand’s hold, Krista-belle gave a high-pitched scream that rang above the beat of the music. As Brand stalked towards Retra, Krista-belle scrambled off the couch and ran past them both, out into the club.
Retra turned to follow her but Brand seized her wrist, twisting it.
‘It seems that you will have to do instead, baby bat,’ said the Riper.
The Riper pulled Retra towards the couch with an unnatural strength. Her cruel fingers wrenched Retra’s chin up, exposing her throat. Brand’s face lowered towards hers. ‘I remember you at re-birth, little one. You ran away from me.’ The Riper made a noise of satisfaction.
Retra writhed to escape the nearness of the Riper’s scarred face; the thick, damaged ridges of skin along her cheek and forehead that bespoke