The Hunt - Megan Shepherd Page 0,99

She merely commands him what to do, and he is using his own knowledge to do it.”

“Can you get him to make the windshield visible, Anya?” Cora asked.

Anya concentrated on Bonebreak. His fingers stiffly worked a few more controls, and the windshield flickered.

Cora sank into the second pilot’s seat, eyes wide. “My god . . .”

The others went running to the front to see. Lucky tried to stand, but just the thought of moving was painful.

“Kindred,” Leon grunted, looking at the screen. “Those bastards have made it into the flight room. Dozens of them.”

“They are well armed,” Rolf observed. A second later, as though to prove his point, the ship rocked violently. Nok let out a cry, then smacked Bonebreak in the shoulder.

“Get us out of here already!”

Bonebreak let out another tense grumble of disapproval. It was louder this time, almost a full curse, as though he was regaining control over his body.

“Anya cannot sustain this level of mental control much longer,” Mali warned. “Her mind will give out eventually, as well as her hands. The Kindred drugs damaged them.”

“She has to keep it up.” Cora spun around in the second pilot’s chair. “At least until we’re out of here.”

The ship rocked again, as something hit it from the outside. Their voices began to fade into the background, like that mysterious dripping sound. Lucky’s ears had started ringing. He readjusted his hold on his ribs.

Damn, but it stung.

Suddenly the ship rumbled. Nok cried out and tried to grab ahold of something, but the walls were perfectly smooth. She and Rolf stumbled over to where the cages had been retrofitted in and clutched onto the bars.

“That’s a good idea,” Cora said. “Everyone hold on to the bars.”

Lucky reached out to halfheartedly grab at a cage, but his fingers didn’t reach. The ship rumbled again. The teddy bear slid slowly toward the left. He felt a sudden wave of dizziness, and his head hit the wall.

“Ow.”

“Lucky, you’re awake!” Cora sank to his side. Her soft hands touched his forehead. She reached gently toward his bloody jacket, which he refused to let her touch. How did she always manage to smell like flowers? “You have to hold on to something too,” Cora whispered. “We don’t know how fast this thing goes.”

Lucky pressed a hand harder against his ribs. The idea of crawling over to the cages seemed impossible. His legs were still attached—he could see that when he lifted his head, even with his blurry vision—but for some reason he couldn’t feel them.

“Where are we going?” he muttered, voice sounding distant.

Cora scooted over to cradle his head in her lap—when had he slumped to the floor?—and had one leg pressed against the captain’s chair to brace them steady. Her fingers brushed his hair back tenderly. Should he tell her that this was his dream? Sitting like this under the cherry tree, his head in her lap, back on his granddad’s farm?

Ow.

There was pain in his cheek. Someone was slapping him. “Stay with me,” Cora was saying.

He coughed violently. If only this damn bullet wasn’t in his side. He couldn’t even remember which guest had hunted him—was it Roshian? Cassian? No, that wasn’t right, Cassian never hunted. Wait, they were still in the Hunt, right?

“. . . going home,” Cora said.

The words sank into him like a punch, and his heart began to thump with panic. Home. Home? He tried to sit up. No, no, there was something wrong about home. Some reason they weren’t supposed to go back, but he couldn’t quite remember.

“Wait. I think . . .” He fumbled until he found Cora’s shoulder, and traced it up to her face. “I think we were . . .”

“Shh.” Around them, the world rocked and bucked, but not here beneath the cherry tree. In the distance, Rolf lost his footing and smacked against the wall. His head connected with a crunch, and Nok shrieked.

Anya’s face twisted harder in concentration. Bonebreak’s hands snapped back into position, moving faster. The world jolted as the ship lifted, and Lucky’s fingers fumbled against Cora’s face.

“You’ll be okay,” she was saying. “Bonebreak says . . . emergency medical kit . . . once we’re away from the station . . .”

The teddy bear slid back the other way and stopped by his face. He felt a sudden welling of panic. Wait. It wasn’t a teddy bear. It was that little fox that liked to chew on wooden statues he stole from the lodge, only someone had torn out