Stormbreak (Seafire #3) - Natalie C. Parker Page 0,24

intercept before she’d fully registered the threat.

Pine knew Bullets better than Caledonia could, but that didn’t exactly recommend his methods.

“Withdrawal is torture enough. This is just a discussion,” Caledonia said, putting the matter to bed as they journeyed through the heart of Cloudbreak.

Once, these meandering alleys had been indecipherable to Caledonia; they’d morphed as she passed, vendors claiming and relinquishing patches of rock almost as soon as she’d seen them. Now Caledonia traversed the streets with ease, weaving her way through the Body Quarter, then cutting between the chaotic press of hastily erected cabins that housed the crews of rogue ships until she came to the barracks that scooped across the far northern edge of town.

In the wake of the battle, Cloudbreak had gone from scheming black market town to burgeoning military operation. There were still vendors hawking their contraband wares, but they were fewer and farther between. In their place were people: families, crews, recovering Bullets, all waiting for Caledonia’s team to bring them into the fight.

Thunder boomed, closer now, and lightning splintered across the clouds, briefly illuminating pale layers of mountain ridges to the west. The wind was picking up, bringing with it the promise of colder weather on the other side of that storm. They ducked inside the barracks a second before the clouds shuddered and unleashed a sudden, torrential rain.

“Cala!” Ares stood abruptly, his voice soft with surprise as he rose from behind a desk covered in stacks of yellowed paper. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you.”

Ares had come a long way since they’d found him on Electra, since he’d drifted through the hallways of the Luminous Wake like a shadow. He’d struggled with dreams and nightmares, fear more than anger. It wasn’t what Caledonia would have expected of the boy she’d known as a child. Ares had been the sunniest of them. He’d been daring and bold and looked for any excuse to have fun. He’d also had a temper that flared hot and fast. Caledonia had assumed that would make him a better Bullet, or a tougher one. But she’d been wrong.

Being a Bullet had stolen all the joy from Ares’s eyes; it had smothered the fire behind his temper and left him with nothing but coals.

“This is an unplanned visit,” Caledonia admitted. “I’m here to speak with Remi.”

“Ah, I don’t think you’re going to get what you want from her,” Ares said, folding his arms protectively against his chest. “We lost two of the other Bullets last week. They, um, we couldn’t get them through their sweats.”

Regret was tight across Ares’s features and exhaustion tugged at the corners of his eyes. He’d been up all night. Possibly longer.

“I’m sorry, Ares.”

He shrugged his shoulders, then leaned heavily against the wall. It happened at least once in each new group. Bullets started receiving doses of Silt around twelve or thirteen turns. After that, they got it every day with few exceptions. Caledonia had learned that withholding the drug was sometimes used as a punishment, a reminder that Bullets needed Aric and should do exactly as he asked. But some had received it so regularly for so long that their bodies simply didn’t know how to function without it.

“More made it through than didn’t,” Ares continued. “But that doesn’t make it any easier. For them.”

Caledonia understood what he wasn’t saying. Whether or not they’d chosen this was irrelevant. They’d lost some of their own and they were bound to resent Caledonia for that.

“Take me to Remi.”

They followed Ares down the dimly lit corridor past rows of doors that looked exactly the same. Each was locked from the outside and made of a single piece of hard wood with a small window the size of a fist punched through at eye level. Given more time, they might have installed self-healing glass over the windows, but that was a luxury, not a necessity.

Ares stopped, then pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. “Incoming, Remi. Captain’s here to talk.”

The door opened on a figure that was not quite what Caledonia remembered. She seemed smaller now, huddled at the edge of her cot with her back in the corner and knees pulled up in front. Her auburn hair was cut short and it curled tightly toward her scalp. When she smiled, her mouth was wide and sharp.

“Morning, Captain.” Her voice was raw but determined. “Come to count the bodies?”

“Good morning, Remi. I was very sorry to hear about your people.” Caledonia ignored the sneer that curled Remi’s