Escape Read online

  “Where you go, I go,” he repeats. “I won’t—”

  Riska growls again, digging his claws into my shoulder.

  “Well, well, well,” says a new voice, loud and clear in the night. It’s a familiar voice, though not in a good way. “Look what we have here.”

  My stomach drops as Jason Van Deer saunters around the house behind us.

  2

  Attack

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. I am so stupid.

  We were so busy talking we didn’t hear or see them approach. I realize belatedly Riska was trying to warn me. I thought he’d been growling at Taro, but he’d been growling at the merc boys.

  Van Deer’s blond crew cut is bright even in the darkness. The merc boy is tall with thick muscles that bulge beneath his black jumpsuit. He is, as always, surrounded by a posse of other merc boys, all of them as big and burly as he is.

  They’re soundless as they pounce on us. One shoots a net launcher straight at Riska. He yowls as the net tangles around him, dragging him from my shoulder to the ground.

  Four boys converge on Taro. They pin him to the side of a tree behind a row of houses, where their commotion won’t wake anyone. Two hold his arms while the other two pin his chest and stand on his feet. Billy is taken in a choke hold by another boy.

  Van Deer grabs me around the waist and drags me toward him. Two boys restrain my arms. Van Deer laughs as I twist and struggle against his restraint.

  “I’ve been waiting for a chance to have a private chat with you,” he says, voice low and menacing. “Privacy is good.” His tongue flicks out and he licks my ear. His lips move down my neck as he kisses me.

  Taro’s face goes livid. My anger evaporates, quickly replaced by fear. Riska goes wild in the net. Venom spews from his mouth as he slashes at the thick ropes.

  I swallow, purposely not looking his way. Riska can get out of the net; I just need to buy him some time.

  The boys all watch us, greedily eating up our reactions.

  “What do you want?” I ask, uneasiness thick in my voice.

  Van Deer laughs in delight. He buries his nose in my hair and inhales. “You smell good for a Brain.”

  The other merc boys laugh. I jerk my head to the side, trying to get away from his nose.

  “What do you want?” I repeat.

  “The two of you got us into a lot of trouble,” Van Deer drawls. “I spent three days scrubbing toilets and showers.”

  “You did that to yourself,” Taro says. “You toilet papered Sergeant Bramfield’s house and got caught. We had nothing to do with that.” In truth, Sergeant Bramfield let us off because he assumed Taro and I had been out fooling around, but he’d come down hard on Van Deer and the rest of the merc boys.

  “Wrong, Hudanus,” Van Deer snaps. “Sergeant Bramfield always favored you. You and the Brain should have scrubbed toilets with the rest of us. And now you’re going to pay.”

  The other boys nod in agreement, their expressions smug and malicious.

  In my periphery, I see Riska’s right forefoot slash at the net. One, then two cables part beneath his claws.

  “Here’s how it’s going to go,” Van Deer says. “I’m going to give you a choice.” His mouth is too close to my ear, his hot breath drenching my skin.

  Disgust churns my belly. I yank against the two boys restraining me. They laugh and wrench my arms farther back. I gasp at the pain.

  “Sulan—” Taro begins.

  One of the boys delivers a vicious punch to his stomach. Taro grunts at the impact, eyes blazing.

  “No one’s talking to you, Hudanus,” Van Deer drawls.

  One of Riska’s feet emerges from the net.

  “I’m here to talk to your girl,” Van Deer continues. “I want a kiss.”

  “No way,” I say. “I’d rather—”

  “One kiss, and we’ll let you all go. That’s a fair deal, don’t you think?”

  Taro’s face flushes with fury. “Van Deer,” he snarls, “this is between you and me. Let her go.”

  “What would be the fun in that?” Van Deer counters. “Sulan, the choice is simple. Either you give me a kiss—and it has to be a real kiss—or my boys beat your boyfriend to a bloody pulp.” I feel his smile as he nuzzles my neck.

  One boy delivers a string of punches to Taro’s abdomen, and then rounds it out with a few nasty strikes to his face. Taro lets out a few grunts, but nothing else to indicate the pain he endures. When the boy finally backs off, blood runs out of Taro’s nose and out the side of his mouth. His eyes are sharp and sparking with anger. If Van Deer was hoping a partial beating would dull his senses, he was wrong.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Riska’s head emerge from the net. He is silent. No hissing, no yowling. I stare straight at Taro. None of the boys even glances in Riska’s direction.

  “Sulan,” Taro says, “don’t do it. Don’t worry about me—”

  “I’ll make you watch,” Van Deer says to me. “I’ll make you watch until he’s a bloody, rubbery mess.”

  “You’re sick,” I say. “And a coward.”

  “You forgot to mention smart,” Van Deer replies. “And patient. All I had to do was wait until the two of you were stupid enough to let yourselves be caught out alone. What will it be, Sulan? What’s a simple kiss compared to having your boyfriend beaten senseless?” He lets out a soft sound of pleasure. “And if you say no, I’ll be sure to get more than a kiss from you. Really, your choice is simple.” He kisses my neck again, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

  It takes all my will power not to scream. “You won’t get away with it.” I put as much bravado into my voice as I can. “We’ll report you.”

  All the merc boys laugh. My eyes dart back and forth, not understanding the joke.

  “Merc kids settle their own disputes,” Van Deer explains. “It’s our code.”

  I look to Taro for confirmation. The tight set of his jaw and compressed lips tell me everything I need to know.

  “But I’m not a merc.”

  “You’ll be in one piece,” Van Deer replies. “That’s all Mr. Winn will care about.”

  I want to be sick.

  Riska’s other foreleg emerges from the net. He struggles to untangle his hind legs, but he’s making progress.

  “What’ll it be, Sulan?” Van Deer asks.

  I take careful measure of the two jerks holding my arms. They grip me firmly, but they’ve relaxed enough to alleviate some of the pain in my shoulders.

  I sag, trying to convey defeat. “I—”

  “Sulan, don’t!” Taro’s eyes widen in alarm as he takes in my defeated posture. “Don’t—”

  Without a word, I twist my body violently to the left. My right shoulder jerks with agony, but I’m ready for it. Before the boy on my right can react, I swing one leg in his direction and nail him right in the crotch. He howls in surprise and releases my arm.

  In the same instant, Riska bursts free of the net. He leaps into the air, streaking straight toward Van Deer.

  Jason Van Deer might be a psychotic jerk, but that doesn’t prevent his whip-quick reflexes from kicking in. He dives sideways, pulling me down to the ground with him.

  I feel the beat of Riska’s wings against my cheek. Beside me, Van Deer lets out a howl. His grip loosens. I roll sideways and jump to my feet.

  Riska, hissing and growling, flies in a tight circle above me. Van Deer staggers to his knees. Blood covers his face, scalp, neck, and part of his chest. I stare in horror at the pale white cut on his forehead. Is that bone? Did Riska cut him to the bone?

  “Sulan, get out of here!”

  I turn and see Taro engaged in an old-fashioned fist fight with several boys. One of them is unconscious on the ground. Another holds his hands over a bleeding nose. Four more circle Taro, hands raised.

  To my surprise, Billy leaps into the fray. He expertly delivers a string of punches to a boy’s lower back, dropping the other kid to his knees.

  Riska lets out a long yowl and d
ives at the boys. Venom sprays from his mouth. The boys shriek and scatter. Several of their uniforms smoke from Riska’s venom. There’s blood and burned skin.

  My gaze meets Taro’s. His eyes are focused, intense, and full of purpose. There’s also an edge of wildness in them I’ve never seen before.

  He pounces on Van Deer, who’s blinded by the torrent of blood gushing from the gash in his forehead. Taro grabs one arm and wrenches it back. His voice is low and dangerous when he leans down to speak to Van Deer.

  “Don’t ever—ever—touch her again.” He gives Van Deer’s arm a vicious twist. I cringe at the sound of breaking bone.

  Van Deer moans, going limp on the ground. Taro drops the broken arm and gives him a final kick in the ribs. I’m so busy gaping at Taro and Van Deer that I lose track of the other merc boys.

  Then I hear a crack, followed by a yowl. I spin around in time to see Riska plummet to the ground.

  A merc boy stands over him, eyes wide as he wields a fallen branch from the tree. The skin along the right side of his face is bloodied and blistered from venom. One of his eyes is bleeding.

  He brings the branch down on Riska. Hard. Once, twice—

  “No!” I scream.

  Taro darts forward and delivers a roundhouse to the boy’s head. The merc boy drops without a sound.

  “Riska!” I rush to him.

  He’s crumpled on the ground, blood matted in his black-and-white striped fur. He makes a weak mewling noise, one glazed eye tracking me. The other is lost in a mass of blood-matted fur. One wing is broken and the side of his face is bloody and dented.

  “Riska!” I shriek, my voice shrill with panic.

  “Kill it.” Van Deer struggles to a sitting position, wiping blood from his eyes with his good hand. “Kill that fur ball.”

  I cover Riska with my body, determined to shield him.

  Taro whirls, teeth gritted as he prepares to fight. The remaining four boys form a loose circle around him. I know I should help Taro, but I can’t leave Riska unprotected.

  The four boys rush Taro. He takes the nearest boy and throws him into a second boy. At the same time, his leg lashes out as he aims a kick at a third boy. That boy dodges the kick and grabs Taro’s foot. With one hard twist, Taro is flipped onto the ground.

  Several things happen at once. Billy darts forward, tackling one boy around the waist and slamming him against the ground. A second form, dressed in black, detaches from the shadows and leaps into the fray.

  “Look out!” I cry, thinking the newcomer is another of Van Deer’s gang.

  To my shock, the newcomer delivers a succinct punch to the nearest of the merc boys. The kid drops without a sound.

  The newcomer whirls, fists and feet flying as he plows into the next merc kid. The boy throws up his arms in defense, but he’s mowed down and left in a silent heap on the grass.

  In the meantime, Taro has rolled into a crouch. His leg sweeps out, taking down a merc boy still on his feet. As the boy topples backward, Taro springs forward, punching him ruthlessly in the face. The boy cries out, but Taro keeps punching.

  The newcomer takes on the last kid. He delivers a hard blow to the boy’s throat. He doubles over, choking. The newcomer presses the advantage and hits the kid squarely in the temple. He, too, crumples motionless to the ground.

  The newcomer turns to Taro, who is still beating the last kid in the face. “Enough, Hudanus,” the voice snaps. “End it.”

  A jolt goes through me. I know that voice.

  That’s when I realize he’s not a boy, but a full-grown man, thicker and taller than the boys.

  “Hudanus!”

  With a wordless snarl of rage, Taro clocks the bloody kid in the temple, knocking him out.

  When he gets to his feet, his eyes are wide, wild, and fierce. Both fists are covered in blood. He stares at the newcomer, body tense. He drops into a crouch, clearly ready for another fight.

  The newcomer snorts at him. “Don’t flatter yourself, Hudanus. In case you didn’t notice, I’m here to help you.”

  I finally find my voice. “Maxwell?” I gasp.

  The man turns to me. A familiar soul patch rests below a mouth twisted into an annoyed grimace.

  “Someone had to rescue you kids,” he growls. His gaze shifts to Riska. “Get the animal. We have to get him to your father—”

  The sound of pounding footsteps cuts him off.

  “Down,” Maxwell hisses. He throws himself to the ground.

  I flatten myself onto the grass beside Riska’s body, Billy and Taro on either side of me. I rest a hand on Riska’s side, feeling the short rise and fall of his rib cage.

  “Hold on, boy,” I whisper.

  A stream of mercenaries pours into view. Each one is dressed in a formfitting black, bulletproof jumpsuit. They flow through the night—heading straight toward Daruuk’s house.

  My stomach drops. “Daruuk. Alexi. Asha.”

  “They don’t know anything,” Billy says. “They’ll be okay.”

  We exchange looks. I see my doubt reflected in his eyes. Something in me shrivels.

  “We should have brought them with us,” I whisper.

  What can we do now? Go back and try to come between Daruuk and the mercs? That would be suicide.

  “We can’t help them,” Maxwell says. “Riska is the priority. We have to get him to your father. Now.”

  Maxwell is Claudine’s right-hand man. Why is he here? The logical answer is that he’s here to take us to Mr. Winn.

  Except if that’s the case, why did he just help us?

  3

  Goodbyes

  Whatever Maxwell’s reason, I don’t trust him.

  I rise, planting myself between Maxwell and Riska. “Get away from us.” My voice cracks with emotion. “We know the truth about you. We’re not going anywhere with you.”

  Maxwell glares at me. “Did you hear what I said? Your pet needs help. He needs your father. We don’t have much time. Once the mercs realize you aren’t at Daruuk’s, they’ll expand their search.”

  Taro leans in and scoops up Riska, who mews in pain.

  A garbled squeak bubbles up from my throat. “Don’t hurt him!”

  “It’s too late for that,” Maxwell says. “Your dad. Now. Run.”

  The merc takes off at a sprint. Taro, Billy, and I all exchange confused looks. Then, because there’s no other choice if we want to save Riska, we take off after him. Taro carries Riska, cradling him tight against his chest.

  Time slows. Even though I pump my arms and churn my legs, my body doesn’t move fast enough. Taro and Maxwell outpace me. From behind them, I see both of Riska’s black wings poke out on either side of Taro. They flop lifelessly.

  Riska. I choke on a sob. Riska. The image of his dented head almost blinds me.

  Taro and Maxwell are a good fifty paces in front of me when they reach my house. Maxwell kicks open the door with one powerful thrust of his booted foot.

  “Hom!” he bellows, striding inside.

  I’m hard on his heels, choked with tears, too consumed with worry and grief to ponder the familiar way Maxwell addresses my father. Taro lays Riska on the sofa. I fall to my knees beside him. His head lolls. His legs hang slack.

  “No, no, no!” I cry. “Riska, no!”

  Dad bursts into the room, wearing nothing but a T-shirt and boxers. He fumbles with his glasses, trying to get them turned the right way. Dad shows no sign of surprise at Maxwell’s presence in our living room.

  “Mrow?” The sound is faint.

  “Riska!” I lower my face so it’s even with his.

  His good eye opens in a narrow slit. He stares out at me.

  Dad manages to get his glasses shoved onto his face. “What’s going on?” He rushes to my side.

  I can’t take my eyes off Riska. As I watch, that single eye films over. His mouth goes slack, tongue lolling from his mouth. His furry body grows still.

  A keen of sorrow rises from my throat. “Riska!” I throw myself
over his unmoving body, a rush of tears blurring my vision. “Riska, no!”

  For several beats, my sobbing is the only sound filling the room. Riska is hurt. Maxwell acts like he’s on our side. He should be dragging me to Mr. Winn by the roots of my hair, but he’s standing in the semicircle around me with everyone else. Everything is wrong.

  Dad says, “Taro, please fix the door.” His hands rest on my shoulders. “Sulan, let me see him.”

  I sit back, hiccupping.

  Dad kneels beside me, raising a hand to stroke the good side of Riska’s head. He lifts the lid of Riska’s good eye. A glazed, lifeless orb reflects the ceiling lights.

  “No, no, no,” I wail. “Not Riska. Please not Riska.”

  “I’m sorry, Sulan.” Dad’s eyes are wet when he looks at me. “He’s gone, sweetie. Taro, take her, please.”

  I break into fresh weeping as Taro pulls me into an embrace. Dad scoops up Riska’s body and carries him toward the bedroom. For a brief moment, his gaze locks on Maxwell’s. Something wordless passes between them.

  What’s going on? Seeing Dad and Maxwell on personal terms threatens my already frayed nerves.

  “I’ll be back,” Maxwell says. He disappears out the door.

  “What’s going on?” I ask. Dad should be worried about Maxwell bringing a swarm of mercs down on us, but he accepts Maxwell’s exit without comment. “Dad?”

  He doesn’t look at me as he closes his bedroom door.

  “Dad!” My voice goes up an octave. I struggle out of Taro’s arms.

  “Sulan—”

  I push away from him and rush at the closed door. I yank on the knob, but it’s locked.

  “Dad!” I shriek. “Dad, what are you doing?”

  No response.

  I pound on the door. “Dad!”

  Taro comes to my side. He looks from my ravaged face to the closed door. I fix him with a silent plea.

  He purses his lips, then delivers two succinct kicks to Dad’s bedroom door. The wood splinters under the blows. The door swings open on broken hinges. Dad swears as I leap into the room.