Page 9 of Fractured Souls

In the background, the alien laughed, a grating, cynical sound, and then his laugh turned into a death-rattle, and she wondered what kind of creature could laugh so carelessly in the face of death.

I don’t want to die.

It was so damn cold…

“Detective Carter? Fucking hell…” And then there came a gruff, familiar voice and the reassuring sound of many boots crunching on the ground, and frantic voices shouting, demanding assistance. Rough hands were on her, pressing on her wound, applying something warm and sticky… Coag-Gel, perhaps? “Get an emergency medevac here now! Hey Carter, it’s okay, we’re here now. You’re going to be okay…”

It occurred to her that maybe she wasn’t going to die here after all, but she couldn’t hold that thought, because the stars were so damn beautiful, and their brilliance obliterated all her fears.

She’d just put under a death-curse by the most vicious race in the Universe, but she didn’t care.

Even her enemies couldn’t bring down the stars.

Two

Alexis slumped back in the cold metal chair, fatigue seeping through every pore of her body. She hadn’t slept in over forty-eight hours, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten.

All she’d had was coffee. Lukewarm, bitter coffee.

The harsh lights made her vision swim, made her throbbing headache just a little bit worse.

“We can’t do this anymore, Alexis.” Across from her sat the Deputy Chief of the Human Protection Agency, Nate Ramos. His brow was furrowed, his salt-and-pepper stubbled jaw cradled in one big hand. There were dark circles under his eyes. He looked like hell. She probably looked a hundred times worse. “That’s six attacks and counting. We’ve moved you around a lot. I’m running out of options. Enforcement won’t give me any more protection specialists, not after this last attack. Four dead and one on intensive life-support? Body count’s rising. They don’t want anything to do with this anymore.” He took a long drag of his Juvi stick and crushed it in an ashtray. The familiar chemical smell of non-carcinogenic smoke filled the room, making Alexis feel sick. “Jesus Christ, Avein? I didn’t realize those winged bastards could be so aggressive.”

“Yeah. Me either.” She took a deep breath and rubbed her temples as the memory of the attack flashed through her mind. They’d been en-route to the Yatala Operations Base when the four black-winged aliens had swooped down from nowhere and attached themselves to the flyer. Impossible. How fast could an Avein fly? Somehow, they’d cut through the roof and entered the inner compartment, their vicious sickle-shaped blades drawn.

Caught by surprise, her security detail had struggled. They’d taken out two. Alexis had shot another. One of the Avein had been on the roof… then he’d disappeared. She still couldn’t explain how.

The blood of an Avein was milky-white. She knew that now.

How?

How did this keep happening?

Someone wanted her dead or captured, and they were going to impossible lengths to make it happen.

It was all connected to the Kordolian attack in the woods. Kordolians were behind this, faceless monsters with access to seemingly unlimited resources.

A year and a half had passed since that terrible event. Alexis’s hand went to the vicious scars across her lower belly, which still throbbed and tingled. For the first twelve months, she hadn’t been able to do a thing. She’d gone through countless surgeries and grueling rehab.

And survived several deadly attacks.

She didn’t know how she was still alive.

“The Agency’s withdrawing your protection detail,” Ramos said with a sigh. “I’ve pushed it for as long as I could, but I’m starting run out of currency with the higher-ups.”

“I appreciate your efforts, Nate. I really do.” Ramos had been a good boss. Sure, he’d dragged her over the coals whenever she screwed up, but he’d always been in her corner. He was one of the few people on Earth she actually trusted. “So now… I’m going to have to go it alone, huh?” She should have been terrified, but she just felt numb, detached. She almost—almost—didn’t care whether she lived or died.

So many guards had died trying to protect her. Even Del and Thomas. Guilt was her constant companion these days. Why was her life any more valuable than theirs? The whole thing had turned into a farce. They weren’t simply trying to protect her anymore. This was symbolic; a clandestine war between shadowy Kordolian forces and the Federation.

She was just a pawn, a symbol. She didn’t understand anything anymore.

And now the Federation had said enough.

“I can give you as many weapons as you need,” Ramos said quietly. “I can put you in touch with a private security company. They’re—”

“Expensive,” she said flatly. “I’d probably be able to afford their services for twelve months at best. Then what?”

“The company’s owned by my cousin. He can give you a discounted rate.”

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