Born of the Night (2 page)

kidnappers might faint from the stench.

Clenching her teeth in determination, she tried another code.

* * *

"I think we ought to get some pleasure out of this," a man said, his voice slowly drawing near her room. "Did you see her?"

Kiara swallowed the sudden lump of fear in her throat and backed toward the far wall,

her heart pounding while her mind raced to think of something, anything to do.

"I don't know, Chenz," another man spoke. "I think we oughta wait till we get further out.

I keep thinking about Poll's message that Nemesis is out to get us. I just think we oughta

kill her like we was paid to and forget about her."

Her stomach knotted. They might kill her, but she intended to take a large piece of them

with her!

Chenz's laugh echoed in the hallway. The bitter sound sent a shiver down her spine.

"Nemesis ain't nothing to fear. We done been paid, I say we ought to enjoy this."

The gears hummed in the door as it slowly slid upward.

Please, God,
Kiara begged silently,
let them kill me before they rape me.

Two of the nastiest beings she had ever seen walked inside. If she thought the room stank

before, that odor couldn't compare to the stench that clung to them. Kiara wondered if

they had ever taken a bath in their lives.

She conceded they were human, though neither did honor to their race.

"Looky." Kiara recognized the voice as belonging to Chenz. "The beauty's awake."

She curled her lip at the fat, grimy man. "What do you want of me?" she asked, already knowing the answer, but hoping to gain some time until she could think of a way to

escape them.

His lecherous smile answered her.

Kiara stared at him, wondering how he could stand to look at his ugly, warted face long

enough to shave. But then, by the amount of stubble on his pudgy jowls, she could tell he

didn't look too often.

The man at his side was only a few inches taller. His long, sharp angular features

reminded her of one of the beasties her nurse used to frighten her with when she was a

child.

Their eyes mirrored a coldness in their souls that chilled her own.

She grasped onto the bedpost, her knuckles protruding. Kiara assessed them, and the

distance and time it would take her to get between them and through the door. She was

quick and strong, but not enough to break through their hulking forms. At that moment,

she wished she were a magician or soldier instead of a scrawny dancer.

"My father will give you any amount you ask if you return me unharmed."

Chenz took a step toward her. "We don't intend to return you at all."

Panic, cold and demanding, welled up inside her, temporarily dimming her eyesight.

Before she could move, Chenz had her by the arm. Fiercely, Kiara clawed at his face. By

God, she would have his eyes for this!

He drew his fist back and struck her hard across the face. Kiara reeled backward, falling

against the wall. She slid to the floor, stunned. Never in her life had she been struck and

the pain throbbing across her cheek and eye was unlike anything she had ever felt.

Only the sound of her nightgown ripping brought her back to the present and her mind

away from the pain. With a curse born of desperation, Kiara sent her fist into Chenz's

flabby belly. Releasing her, he doubled over in pain.

She kicked at the other man, catching him in the center of his chest. Her nightgown tore

more as she scrambled from them. She couldn't allow herself to be raped. She would

rather die trying to escape than to docilely submit to them.

Kiara ignored the gaping front of her gown and ran for the door. Someone grabbed her

foot. She hit the floor with enough force to knock her breath from her.

Oh God, she had to get away! Kiara clawed at the garbage as they pulled her back toward

them.

"You'll pay for that, bitch!" Chenz snapped, wrapping his belt around her throat.

Kiara gasped for air, but the belt bit into the flesh of her neck, choking it from her.

Desperately, she tried to pry the leather free from her throat. She kicked her feet and tried

to scream. Not even a whisper left her bruised lips.

She was dead, she knew it.

"Kill her, Chenz!" the taller man said, rubbing his chest where she had kicked him.

The belt tightened. Kiara's sight dimmed. She clawed at the belt. Her tongue seemed

swollen, almost too large for her mouth. Just as she thought Chenz would finish her, the

belt loosened.

Kiara gulped the air into her burning lungs and throat. She rubbed her neck, feeling the

welts left by the rough leather.

Chenz wrapped his hands in her long, dark brown hair and reeled her to him. "Your life's

nothing to us, girly. But how you treat us in the next few minutes will decide if we kill

you quick or make it
real
painful."

She choked at the stench of his breath falling against her cheek. Before she could think of

a retort, his wet, scarred lips covered hers. Kiara gagged.

"Why you . . ." He drew back to hit her again.

A sharp lurch in the ship sent them tumbling. A warning buzzer pierced the air. The sharp

pulses of sound were punctuated by flashing lights.

"We're being attacked!" the tall man shouted before running out of the room.

Kiara lay on the floor numb from physical pain and fear. Chenz grabbed her by the arm,

jerked her to her feet, and pushed her back against the wall. She stared bravely into his

eyes, wondering if he would kill her before he left. She was amazed to find her eyes dry.

"I'll finish with you when this is over," he promised, his fingers biting fiercely into her face as he twisted her mouth with his hand. Giving her a lecherous sneer, he released her

and ran to join his partner.

The door slammed down, jarring the room. Kiara slid slowly to the floor, her mind too

overwrought to think about much of anything except the fate that awaited her when the

battle ended.

She was aboard some sort of aircraft with two assassins, in who knew what sector or

galaxy, and all of them were now under attack by something probably more cruel than

her current hosts.

For the briefest moment, she thought it might be her father with a rescue party. But she

knew better. He was still at the consulate meeting and thought her safely guarded in the

dance company's hotel rooms.

Tears flooded down her cheeks as she realized the hopelessness of her situation. She

would die out here in space, raped and tortured. The only hope she had was that whoever

was attacking them, would destroy them.

"Please," she begged in a ragged voice. "Let me die during the fight!"

Her throat tightened as she listened to the sounds of battle. The old walls of the shuttle

creaked ominously. Blasts struck the craft and kept it rocking beneath her.

Kiara stared at the lock, tempted to try and pick it again.

But what good would it do? She could hear the popping of damaged electrical circuits in

the hallway. By now, all the power to the doors had been drained and transferred to the

ship's weapons and shields.

The lights went out.

Kiara sat in total darkness, wiping the tears from her cheeks. "Be brave," she whispered, her voice lost among the hissing sounds outside. She was a commander's child, and she

would meet death calmly, with dignity.

After an eternity of wrecked and tormented nerves, the craft was still. The odor of

burning wires and smoke filtered into her room. Kiara coughed from the smoke until her

throat burned. She was still alive, though to what purpose or fate, she could only guess.

Hearing the sound of approaching feet, she tensed, but they quickly ran past her room.

The tightness of her throat loosened a tiny degree.

She seemed to have aged forty years before she heard someone else outside her door. Her heart pounded in short staccato beats at the sizzling sound of a torch cutting through the

steel.

Kiara gripped the bed frame with her left hand and clutched the remnants of her

nightgown with her right. Her head was so light from her panic, she feared she might

faint.

A loud pop sounded just before a large piece of the door fell in. Her stomach knotted into

a cold lump. Light from a torch traveled about the room, stopping as it illuminated her.

Despite the pain of her adjusting eyes, she tried to see beyond the light, to whoever held

it, but all she saw was a large, black blob.

The blob stepped through the hole and entered her room.

Kiara tucked her legs under her so she could quickly rise to her feet if she needed to. A

trickle of sweat ran down her temple. She tensed, ready to strike out with whatever

resistance her battered, tired body could muster.

The overhead lights returned, burning her eyes. Kiara blinked several times and the blob

turned into a soldier dressed in a black battlesuit. A dense black helmet covered his face,

preventing her from seeing what race he belonged to. No insignia or flag marked his

uniform in any way.

Who was he?

She stared at him, still uncertain whether he would help her, or harm her more. Until she

knew the answer, she would play docile, lulling him into thinking her harmless. And if he

did intend to hurt her, she would knee him where it would do her the most good. But he

didn't move closer.

To her surprise, he shut off the torch and placed it on the floor. She prepared to run.

Unaware of her intent, he unstrapped his helmet from the lines securing it to his battlesuit

and removed it.

Kiara was amazed by the handsomeness of his face. His long, brown hair was pulled back

into a ponytail and two small, silver hoops dangled from his left ear-lobe. His dark eyes

moved over her body, measuring her state of disarray.

When he looked back at her face, she saw pity and concern. "I'm Rachol," he said quietly in the Universal language as if coaxing a skittish gimfry. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Kiara believed him. She released her grip on the bed. Another wave of tears washed

down her cheeks. She was safe!

The soldier moved toward her cautiously. "Can you understand me?"

She realized his accent was Ritadarion, an allied planet to her own. "Yes," Kiara said, trying to staunch her tears.

He removed his jacket and gently wrapped her in it. "Everything's all right, we'll take you home." He straightened and held his hand out to her.

Kiara placed her tiny, icy hand into his large, warm one. He pulled her to her feet. She

took a single step, then crumpled.

In a blurred flash, he knelt beside her. "Are you okay?" his voice was warm with concern.

"I don't understand," she mumbled. "I can't walk!" Another wave of panic tore through her.

"Shh," Rachol soothed. "You're in mild shock. Little wonder after having to be near those two. Don't worry, it'll pass." His hand gripped his ribs as he swept her with a measuring gaze. "I can't carry you," he said after a minute. "I've got a wound healing in my side and if I pick you up, I'll open it."

He lifted her chin until she stared into his kind, dark brown eyes. "Do you trust me?"

For some unknown reason, she did. "Yes."

He nodded and smiled. "I'm going to ask a friend to carry you back to our ship. Promise

me you won't faint when he gets here."

Kiara frowned at his words, wondering why he felt it necessary to ask for such a promise.

"I don't faint."

Rachol gave her a skeptical look, then pulled out a hand-held communicator from his

belt. "Nemesis, I need assistance."

Kiara's blood fled her face. "Nemesis!" she shrieked, pushing herself away from Rachol.

For a moment, she thought she might faint after all. Nemesis was the most feared assassin

to ever live. Every known government, including her own, wanted him dead.

"He won't hurt you," Rachol soothed.

Kiara wasn't listening. Instead, she heard the various news reports that aired regularly

about the coldblooded, brutal killings Nemesis performed. No one knew what he looked

like, who he was. The only people to ever see his face, never lived long enough to tell the

authorities. It was rumored he had even killed his own parents when he was a young boy, just for practice.

A large shadow fell over them.

Kiara gulped, her gaze traveling up the hulking form dressed identically to Rachol. At

least Nemesis still had his helmet on. Maybe she would live through this . . . maybe. She

shook in fear.

To her dismay, Nemesis walked past Rachol and knelt before her. His huge, gloved hand

reached out to touch the burning cheek Chenz had struck. She cringed, trying to press

herself into the wall behind her and turned her face away.

He dropped his hand before making contact with her cheek.

"She can't walk," Rachol explained.

Nemesis nodded. Without a word, he pulled her into his arms and lifted her as if she

weighed nothing more than the communicator at his waist. Kiara trembled, wanting to be

back home and not in the arms of the most dangerous being alive.

Reaching the door, Nemesis paused and turned to face Rachol. "Kill them," he said in an electronically distorted voice.

The nonchalant tone tore through her. What kind of being could order someone's death so

callously? Not wanting to be near such a creature, she tried to squirm out of his arms. His

hold tightened almost to the point of pain.

He carried her out into the hallway to the linking station that joined the two crafts. Rachol