The reflective dissent, p.5
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The Reflective Dissent, page 5

 

The Reflective Dissent
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  A shot fires, blasting a hole through Gunnar’s shoulder, and Beth gives a minute flinch. A gemlike spray of blood bursts from his body. Vague spears of late daylight stab through the thick tree cover, hitting the red drops.

  Beth tracks them, seeing what she needs, and leaps.

  The blood tastes like liquid metal as she slides through it and lands on the leader.

  He doesn't have time to round his weapon to shoot her, and Beth's hand chops his throat, neatly arresting his breathing.

  Dragging her dagger from behind her body with her left hand, she steadies against the forest floor with her right and sweeps the blade up at the back of the second man's thigh, severing the hamstring.

  He drops, howling at the top of his lungs and clutching at his spurting leg.

  Beth moves forward, cutting the throat of the third in an upward, jumping hack.

  Ryan roars at the top of the hill, and she hears his thundering gait through the leaves and branches.

  Soon, she thinks, chancing a glance at Gunnar.

  He already has Maddie and Jacky beside him. She has just a moment of bone-jarring relief when he bellows her name.

  Fear lathers her insides, and Beth turns, bringing up her blade as she does.

  She makes a gash through Ryan's face, and he backhands her.

  Her cheek splits open, and Beth staggers backward, keeping her blade out and wide with her left hand, gripping whatever she can with her right.

  Slade's strong hand steadies her as the fourth and fifth men of Three that Ryan brought with him gun him down.

  Slade's blood soaks her face, and still, he folds her against him, shielding her with his body.

  Beth opens her eyes, her lashes glued shut with Slade's blood, and watches Jeb's body arc over theirs, crashing into Ryan.

  The fifth male presses a scalding circle to her forehead. “Call them off, or I'll spray your brains, bitch.”

  Beth flattens her lips. “Kill him, Merrick.”

  The click of a trigger is loud in her ears.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Beth

  Slade rolls her body when the hammer clicks on the Three's weapon at the exact moment Beth sights a sliver of polished stainless on Ryan's blackened buckle, worn away just enough.

  Beth jumps them both, and the bullet meant for her brain beats into the ground she just jumped them from.

  Barreling into Reflective Ryan from a meter and a half above his head, she and Slade drop hard.

  Beth determines two hundred and fifty pounds of Bloodling has soundly rung Ryan's bell until his hand closes around her throat.

  She brings her knee up, and he plants his on her thigh, pinning her leg and spreading it at the same time.

  Principle. Beth twists her head to the right and bites his wrist, trying to meet her teeth together.

  Ryan groans, tightening his hold.

  Oxygen consumption stops, and stars burst in the field of her vision.

  Jeb's fist slams into his temple. Ryan jerks his head back and forth, as though he'd shake off the blow.

  Beth shifts her torso hard, and the sudden movement throws Ryan's balance. Lifting her upper body, she brings her blade up, skewing him in the gut. She corkscrews the serrated ceramic inside his body.

  His eyes widen, and thin threads of red sink between his teeth as blood shoots up into his mouth.

  “Mongrel,” he manages.

  Beth nods. “The mongrel who's killing you.”

  “Stand down, Reflective bitch.”

  Beth's eyes slide to the right. The single Three who Beth didn't manage to incapacitate holds Maddie, a gun pressed to her head.

  Beth bares her teeth.

  “Don't you fucking do that jumping shit”—he rams the tip against her temple, and Maddie's shimmering lavender-blue eyes tighten—“or I'll do her.”

  Beth grins. “Let her go, and I'll let you live.”

  He barks out a laugh, clicking the safety off. “You're in no position to negotiate.”

  Beth's eyes naturally seek reflection, coming to the barrel of his gun. The black of the barrel vaguely gleams.

  She tracks—calculating.

  At that exact moment, the sun sinks, shading everything to opaque smears, and just like that, the Reflectives are reduced to their combat and wits.

  “Get up,” he says and shakes Maddie, who yelps at the treatment.

  Beth dare not look around her.

  Is Gunnar unharmed? Slade?

  Jeb stands beside her.

  She rolls a bleeding Ryan off and stands, wasting a glance on his writhing form. Even as she looks, his hands close around the hilt and jerk her dagger from his body. Beth kicks it from his hand.

  Fresh blood slowly pools from the wound she just inflicted. Ryan is Reflective and will heal even this grievous of an injury unless she finishes him.

  “Scoot your ass topside.” His eyes move to Jeb. “You too, pretty boy.”

  Jeb's eyes narrow, and he moves slightly in front of Beth, which makes her angry. “Let us go, and no harm will come to you.”

  Beth rolls her eyes. Speak Three, Jeb.

  The Three snorts, but his cool eyes remain on her partner. “No. Can. Do.” His eyes scan behind him, and he notices something. “As you were, big guy, or the girl gets a permanent dirt nap.”

  Gunnar. Beth senses him. Then he hisses, and she knows.

  “Grab your buddy and haul his fanged ass topside too.” He snorts, his grip tightening on Maddie severely. “Need to muzzle him. Already bled out two of my men.”

  Healing the bullet wounds. Took his pound of flesh—or liter of blood. Beth's lips lift, and she flicks her eyes at Gunnar. Only a vague scar remains where the bullet passed through him.

  The Bloodlings repair even faster than Reflectives. Now Beth knows why she is the fastest healing Reflective in The Cause. Part Bloodling. They'd certainly never credited the reason as her being female.

  Beth's exhale is frustrated. Ryan's been saved by the corrupt Threes, who have imprisoned them.

  The Three toes Ryan as he groans on the damp moss. “He gonna live?”

  Beth gives a grim nod. “Oh yes.”

  He shakes his head in wonder. “Amazing as fuck.”

  Jeb's eyes tighten, ignoring the Three's crude summation. “Where are we going?”

  “Wherever I feel like.” The Three is hard, but Beth knows Jeb is harder.

  Then he slams the butt of the gun into Jeb's stomach. Jeb staggers forward but doesn't make a sound.

  Beth moves to strike, and he levels the pistol in her face.

  “Stand down, sweetheart.”

  Beth's heart jams up her throat as the Three's eyes dare her to try him.

  She wants to, badly.

  “Beth,” Jeb says softly, straightening with a wince.

  “Welcome to earth,” Jacky mutters, and Beth's shoulders tense with the butt-shaped bruise of a gun on his face. He sees her notice. “Eff it, it's all the guy got in.” He grins.

  Beth's pride in the boy swells. He's brash and irritating but has a good heart.

  “We don't need you, kid. You're expendable.”

  Jacky's eyes train on him. “Doubt it. You couldn't find your ass with both hands, judging by how all your guys got their clocks cleaned.”

  The Three scowls, jerking his head toward the top of the ravine. “Get your asses up there. Move!”

  Jacky gives him a last glare and shimmies up the ravine toward the back of his ruined domicile.

  Jeb and Beth move together, making the climb easily, Slade and Gunnar at their backs.

  Beth can feel the gaze of the Three boring into her back as she keeps every intuitive sense at the ready, in case some escape presents itself.

  They reach the top, where unmarked cars in sleek jet-black are parked along the curb. Clean exhaust spirals up toward the night sky, where stars are just beginning to show against the midnight-blue blanket of night.

  “We jump at first reflection,” Jeb says in quiet Latin.

  Then he stumbles forward, hitting the ground hard with his palms.

  Blood pools in a gash at the back of his head, and Beth pivots. The gun rounds at her a second time, and she leans back on her tiptoes in avoidance, her arms thrown wide for balance. The blow glances on her chin and takes her back a step where she rocks to flat-footed and balances.

  “No!” Beth shouts as Maddie throws a surprise punch at the Three who struck him in the crotch.

  He goes down, and she kicks his gun away. It spins on what's survived of the driveway.

  Car doors open, and silent Threes exit their vehicles. “Stop now, or we gun you down. All of you.”

  Jeb stands, his wound already beginning to clot.

  Beth tenses in readiness.

  “No, Beth.”

  She glances at Jeb.

  Beth swims through the sick adrenaline pumping through her body. She can identify when a male has potential she has to address.

  The Three who just spoke is one who has it.

  She and Jeb face the new threat. “Go ahead. Fucking go for it. Doesn't matter to me either way. I get paid by the hour.”

  “Union fuckwit,” Jacky grumbles.

  His hard gaze moves to the youngling. “You especially. You think I won't kill a kid?” His laugh sounds like broken glass to Beth's ears. He yanks his jaw to the Threes who flank him. “I so will.”

  Jacky says nothing, thank Principle.

  His eyes quickly scan her and Jeb then move to behind him. “Hey, Keith, what in the fuck are these?” His flinty attention is behind her. Beth doesn't need to turn around to know he's asking about the Bloodlings.

  “Vamps,” the Three who struck Jeb in the back of the head gasps from the ground, where he's attempting to relearn how to breathe.

  “Get the kids.”

  Jeb tenses, and it is Beth who grabs his arm.

  The head Three lifts his chin. “You a slow learner, Reflective?”

  He says Reflective like dolt.

  The men engage in a weighted stare.

  Beth wants his death, and judging by Jeb's expression, he feels the same.

  The Three must see the intent in their expressions, and they smile slowly. “I bet you two would like to take us out. But that's not going to happen. Keith's going to get his nuts in a sack and help remove the bodies from the ravine.”

  Keith chooses that opportunity to throw up.

  Jeb's smirk is immediate—satisfied.

  The other Three laughs. “As soon as he stops upchucking.”

  Beth and Jeb don't join in. She doesn't think their situation is funny. She doesn't even have to wonder if Jeb is scheming. She knows he is.

  The Threes walk cautiously by them, and Beth doesn't even look at the man who told them to get Jacky and Maddie.

  He has them within the sights of his weapon. It's black as pitch here, and there is no reflection. Her chest grows tight as she realizes Ryan is alive and he will exact vengeance.

  She made a grave error in judgment. Beth should have waited for Slade and Jeb.

  He lifts his chin. “Shoot the vamps.”

  “No!” Beth whirls, launching behind herself.

  Jeb misses grabbing her.

  Slade's eyes meet hers. His tender gaze is on her, his body hard.

  His form is peppered with the wounds he suffered, his naturally pearl-gray skin ashen.

  An arrow hits his chest, and one second before she understands the Threes meant to tranquilize the Bloodlings, Beth feels the bite in her own shoulder.

  Reflectives metabolize drugs rapidly, so the drugs will not be as effective.

  Keith moves toward her, and she roundhouse kicks him in the teeth, a martial arts technique she studied that's prevalent on Three.

  He falls backward, and a single tooth falls out of his mouth, rolling off his chest to fall into his open palm.

  Gunnar drops to his knees, his longish black hair uncoiled from his hair club.

  A man falls on her back, and Beth's vision wavers.

  Principle no. She bends, upending him over the top of her.

  Jeb fights behind her, and a gunshot rings in her ears.

  “The shit's not working!”

  “It shall,” Ryan says from beside her. He holds his guts, and with a stiff knuckle jab, Beth strikes him hard at the site of the wound.

  He folds but manages to grab her wrist on the way down.

  Nausea rolls through her as she twists her wrist hard in the opposite direction of his hold.

  His grip tightens.

  They stare at each other for a heartbeat, then Ryan straightens, and she pulls back. He keeps the vice grip on her wrist, and Beth strikes him in the nose with the front of her free hand.

  But her precision is skewed, and where she thought his nose was, there is only air as her hand passes harmlessly by his head.

  Her vision narrows to gray at the edges as a roaring sound fills her ears.

  Ryan bashes his closed fist into her cheek, and she sags.

  “Beth!” Jeb roars.

  Ryan holds her aloft by one arm cranked behind her. “Stay down, Jasper,” he grits from between his teeth.

  She cranes her neck to look up at him, but there are three Ryans instead of one. “Never.”

  He nods as though he expected that response.

  When he hits her again, she can't stay awake.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Beth

  Beth comes awake in broken chunks of consciousness and pain. She carefully moves her jaw from side to side and winces at the stiffness.

  The floor beneath her feels cool, and she rolls to her side, her eyes still shut, and presses a forearm to the ground. After a few moments, she heaves onto her forearms and knees, bowing forward as if praying.

  Beth doesn't pray; she kneels because she can't stand.

  Waves of dizziness undulate through her body like a slithering snake in motion. She gulps, and the urge to throw up slowly passes. Sometimes, a head injury will feel better with a good evacuation of everything from the body.

  Not this time. Beth knows from experience that if she can just ride this wave of injury through, she'll mend.

  She lets the knowledge of the condition she's in fade away from her brain. She also disallows the shakes from lack of food and water.

  Beth is Reflective and trained to eschew basic needs. There are other matters more important than the temporary setback of being imprisoned by corrupt Threes, guided by the even more criminal intent of Reflective Lance Ryan.

  Thinking of him makes her angry, breathing new life into her psyche. Beth lifts her head just enough from between her flattened palms, keeping herself centered, breaths even and deep, and scans her surroundings.

  Bars of a soft gray surround her at every turn. Beth hoists herself on her rear and surveys the environment.

  She's inside a prison of sorts with bars of ceramic-coated stainless steel, which tells Beth that the Threes, or Ryan, have already anticipated housing Reflectives. Her stomach begins to churn anew. Premeditation is wholly different than Threes just stumbling upon their little party and making an opportunistic capture.

  She tilts her head upward, studying the roof of the same material as the bars. She turns her attention to the floor, and her heartbeats accelerate. Her gaze shifts to what looks like cement beneath her. Certain regions of the Greater Quadrant of America may still use granite flakes within the manufacture of this material.

  Her eyes flick to the other cellsʼ flooring. She sees nothing. Beth stiffens her shoulders. Something will present itself for her to jump.

  Blinking rapidly, Beth staggers over a sight she hoped never to see.

  Jeb is tied down within his cell.

  Four ceramic-coated stainless rings are driven into the corners of the square holding pen, and some type of plastic ropes anchor his wrists and ankles, which are spread away from his torso.

  Zip ties, Beth suddenly remembers.

  Beth's breath releases in an anguished rush. The Bloodlings have trap doors above the roofs of their cells.

  Sunlight. Beth shudders.

  Maddie and Jacky are together in one cell and appear to be sleeping. Or drugged. Beth can't discount what might have transpired after she was beaten into unconsciousness.

  Her eyes travel back to Slade and Gunnar's cells. Beth understands on some level that they're all being held like animals.

  Jeb groans, startling Beth out of her reverie. She walks over to the side of her cell, wraps her chilled fingers around the bars, and looks directly into his. Her eyes run the distance between them and estimate that about three meters separate their holding pens.

  Jeb turns his face, his eyes catching hers.

  Beth blinks back her emotions, and a thought occurs to her, and she searches the four corners of her own cell. Rings stand in nonreflective repose. Just seeing the benign anchors speeds her heart.

  “Beth,” Jeb rasps.

  She turns back to him, sees his vulnerability, and the urge to cry anew is brutal resistance clogging her airway. Tears are a luxury, one she can't afford. “Merrick,” she finally croaks.

  His look is bold, possessive. “They think I am the threat, so I've been...” He lifts his hands, and the ties snap with the tension.

  “But you're not the only threat,” she says quietly.

  He shakes his head. “No.”

  “Do whatever you need to survive, Beth. Do it for me.” His Adam's apple bobs with his swallow, and Beth sees Jeb is fighting the horrible emotions of a bonded male. A man who has found his soul mate. His eyes won't release her, and she feels imprisoned by his command.

  “And me.”

  Beth's attention swings to the new voice.

  Slade grabs the smooth bars of his cell as his black eyes find her in the dim lighting of the space.

  “Slade,” Beth begins, dipping her chin, “I'm afraid—”

  “—you would be a fool not to be.”

  Beth shakes her head, and loose hair falls in front of her aching, abraded face. “I am not afraid.”

  “Let me guess, you're Reflective,” Jacky says from his cell. His voice is poisonous with disdain.

  Beth levels her eyes on him. “That's correct. But further, fear will rob me of everything I can bring to help us.”

 
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