me,
she wanted to say, but then she remembered the sure, strong arc of the arrow and how it had lodged into the
ganga
’s skull. This babe didn’t mess around.
Except, possibly, with scissors, because no one could consider the hacked-up job of her hair any sort of style. She was pretty enough—a man would probably think she was beautiful, with super smooth skin the color of light mahogany, high, elegant cheekbones, and an exotic shape to her eyes and mouth. But her hair was a disaster, and the boxy shirt she was wearing…ugh. It was not only caked with dirt, but seemed as if it were stiff enough to crack if she bent at the waist.
“So what were the Marcks doing with the
gangas
? Looked to me like they were trying to send them on a new mission. Looking for someone with dark hair? Who might be related to Remington Truth, maybe?”
Remy’s mouth dried and her stomach did a little flip. Could this woman know?
How?
Instinctively, she reached for the crystal and found its comforting round shape beneath her fingertips, hanging there safely at her belly. Warm, even through the shirt.
You’ll know when to use it. When the time is right. Until then…guard it with your life.
Her grandfather’s last words to her. On a deathbed of confessions, grief, and guilt.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a bounty they’re looking for,” Remy replied, trying to ignore the pain shooting up her leg. That was the truth, thank God. “You know that’s what they do.”
“Yeah, when they’re not fucking feeding villages and families to
gangas
. Your little stunt back there, by the way, blew my best chance to take out your boyfriend’s father.” Her words came out tight and full of loathing, but Remy heard the pain deep in her voice and resisted the urge to touch Zoë’s hand.
Probably not a good idea with this prickly one. “Sounds like you have a history with him.”
“So what bounty are they after?”
Okay, then. Apparently I’m the only one allowed to share.
But that was okay. Best to divert her from her earlier questions. “A member of the Elite has run away and they’re looking for her. There are a few
gangas
that have the capacity to understand differences in appearance.”
“Coulda fooled me. I’ve never seen one with any more brain power than it takes to stagger around. What’s the Elite?”
“You know…the ones who…well, the ones who wear the crystals.” Remy caught herself before she said too much. And it was taking more and more effort to keep her voice steady in light of the pain gyrating around her leg.
“That’s what they call themselves? The Elite? And one of them ran away. Can’t imagine why the fuck she’d do that.”
How much did this woman
know
? Remy frowned, once again glad for the darkness. “Yeah. Her name is Huvane. Uh, Laurie or Mallory, or…something like that. She was…with them from the beginning.” She closed her eyes, counting to ten, breathing to alleviate the pain. It wasn’t freaking working.
“Are you all right?” Zoë asked.
Remy curled her lips inward, then relaxed them. No sense in playing the martyr. “I cut my leg pretty badly when I dove through the window. It’s bleeding and it hurts like a bitch in heat.”
“That’s not good. I knew a guy once who died from a cut.”
“Thanks.” Too damn bad the crystal Grandpa had given her wasn’t the healing kind. It would come in handy about fricking
now
.
“Put that light on and let me take a look. I know a guy who’s a doctor.”
“A doctor? There aren’t anymore doctors,” Remy said, but she pulled out the light. “Any who survived the Evolution would probably be dead, or old and dotty by now.”
“Not this one,” Zoë told her. And then she sucked in her breath. “Holy nuking crap.”
Remy had a moment of triumph that she’d shocked this rude, abrasive woman, but then she looked down at her wound and realized how serious it was.
Good God.
That wasn’t
bone
showing through there, was it? She felt
she wanted to say, but then she remembered the sure, strong arc of the arrow and how it had lodged into the
ganga
’s skull. This babe didn’t mess around.
Except, possibly, with scissors, because no one could consider the hacked-up job of her hair any sort of style. She was pretty enough—a man would probably think she was beautiful, with super smooth skin the color of light mahogany, high, elegant cheekbones, and an exotic shape to her eyes and mouth. But her hair was a disaster, and the boxy shirt she was wearing…ugh. It was not only caked with dirt, but seemed as if it were stiff enough to crack if she bent at the waist.
“So what were the Marcks doing with the
gangas
? Looked to me like they were trying to send them on a new mission. Looking for someone with dark hair? Who might be related to Remington Truth, maybe?”
Remy’s mouth dried and her stomach did a little flip. Could this woman know?
How?
Instinctively, she reached for the crystal and found its comforting round shape beneath her fingertips, hanging there safely at her belly. Warm, even through the shirt.
You’ll know when to use it. When the time is right. Until then…guard it with your life.
Her grandfather’s last words to her. On a deathbed of confessions, grief, and guilt.
“Is that a yes?”
“It’s a bounty they’re looking for,” Remy replied, trying to ignore the pain shooting up her leg. That was the truth, thank God. “You know that’s what they do.”
“Yeah, when they’re not fucking feeding villages and families to
gangas
. Your little stunt back there, by the way, blew my best chance to take out your boyfriend’s father.” Her words came out tight and full of loathing, but Remy heard the pain deep in her voice and resisted the urge to touch Zoë’s hand.
Probably not a good idea with this prickly one. “Sounds like you have a history with him.”
“So what bounty are they after?”
Okay, then. Apparently I’m the only one allowed to share.
But that was okay. Best to divert her from her earlier questions. “A member of the Elite has run away and they’re looking for her. There are a few
gangas
that have the capacity to understand differences in appearance.”
“Coulda fooled me. I’ve never seen one with any more brain power than it takes to stagger around. What’s the Elite?”
“You know…the ones who…well, the ones who wear the crystals.” Remy caught herself before she said too much. And it was taking more and more effort to keep her voice steady in light of the pain gyrating around her leg.
“That’s what they call themselves? The Elite? And one of them ran away. Can’t imagine why the fuck she’d do that.”
How much did this woman
know
? Remy frowned, once again glad for the darkness. “Yeah. Her name is Huvane. Uh, Laurie or Mallory, or…something like that. She was…with them from the beginning.” She closed her eyes, counting to ten, breathing to alleviate the pain. It wasn’t freaking working.
“Are you all right?” Zoë asked.
Remy curled her lips inward, then relaxed them. No sense in playing the martyr. “I cut my leg pretty badly when I dove through the window. It’s bleeding and it hurts like a bitch in heat.”
“That’s not good. I knew a guy once who died from a cut.”
“Thanks.” Too damn bad the crystal Grandpa had given her wasn’t the healing kind. It would come in handy about fricking
now
.
“Put that light on and let me take a look. I know a guy who’s a doctor.”
“A doctor? There aren’t anymore doctors,” Remy said, but she pulled out the light. “Any who survived the Evolution would probably be dead, or old and dotty by now.”
“Not this one,” Zoë told her. And then she sucked in her breath. “Holy nuking crap.”
Remy had a moment of triumph that she’d shocked this rude, abrasive woman, but then she looked down at her wound and realized how serious it was.
Good God.
That wasn’t
bone
showing through there, was it? She felt
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