Read Online Kill by Numbers: In the Wake of the Templars Book Two by Loren Rhoads - Free Book Online
Authors: Loren Rhoads
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“I know he was evil. I know all the things he was charged with. But to hurt someone you love …” She shuddered, smoothing the pads of her hands down Mykah’s muscled back as if to wipe the memory away.
“She said the crew she served with knew,” Coni reported. “They knew and no one helped her. She said she had to take his abuse because otherwise Thallian would have tortured her to death.”
Mykah reached up to take Coni’s face in his hands. “I know,” he said softly. “She’s withstood terrible things. But she’s avenged herself. He can’t hurt anyone any more.”
“It’s not that,” Coni argued, but maybe it was. “How does she get up every day, get dressed, face other people … How do you recover? How do you act normal? How do you … ?” She ran out of words, unable to articulate how deeply she was touched by all that Raena had endured.
“She’s able to do it, because she was shut in that tomb for twenty years,” Mykah reminded, “where she was safe from him. She couldn’t die, so she had to heal.”
Coni bent down to rub the top of her head under his chin.
“You’re welcome.” He scratched her gently behind the ear. “You know you can always come to me with your questions. I don’t know all that Raena’s survived—I don’t think she’s let anyone know it all—but I understand pretty well how she did it.”
There were times when Raena missed her bubble bath. When Kavanaugh had delivered her to Gavin’s moon base up above the Templar tombworld, the two men had adapted a rocket casing so she could have her first bath in decades. Even though the water had cooled faster than she would have preferred, it was still heavenly. Raena wondered if Vezali could rig some kind of bathtub out of the weapons the Thallians left behind.
In the meantime, she stepped into the shower in her cabin. She set the water to be practically scalding, but didn’t allow herself to luxuriate in it for long. No telling how many times that water had been cycled already.
Her thoughts had finally quieted. After she toweled herself off, she couldn’t think of anything she particularly wanted to do. So she crawled back into her bunk and let her eyes slide closed, hoping for the peaceful sleep that had eluded her earlier.
If not that, then some nice pastoral dreams about flying.
In her tomb, Raena experimented with turning the electric torch off for short periods of time. She knew the torch’s batteries were not going to last forever. As far as she knew, her imprisonment was intended to be for life, so she was likely to outlive the light. Whenever she considered what life would be like once the light was gone, she wanted to weep—but her tears had apparently used themselves up. Her inability to cry didn’t make the emotion any less intense.
She was trying to memorize the boundaries of the tomb. She started by walking to the cavern’s entrance, where she put her hand on the slab and switched off the torch. Then she paced forward slowly, counting her steps.
She wondered if going crazy was a choice. Could she choose madness? If she went crazy, would the darkness fill with ghosts? Would they attack her, gang up, avenge themselves on her? Would it be better to have company, any company, than to have the fear of the dark so clear in her mind?
She halted abruptly. She realized she had forgotten her count. She turned around carefully, one hand always on the wall, and walked back toward the tomb’s slab to begin again.
The fear began to spiral: how far had she gone? It seemed like she was walking back farther than she’d already come. Was she lost? Was it possible to get lost? Was the cave rearranging itself around her in the darkness?
Panting, unable to catch her breath, she snapped the torch on. The entrance of the tomb was a mere arm’s length ahead of her.
Raena sank to the floor with her back against the wall. She took a deep breath, held it as long as she could, then blew it out slowly. Then she
“She said the crew she served with knew,” Coni reported. “They knew and no one helped her. She said she had to take his abuse because otherwise Thallian would have tortured her to death.”
Mykah reached up to take Coni’s face in his hands. “I know,” he said softly. “She’s withstood terrible things. But she’s avenged herself. He can’t hurt anyone any more.”
“It’s not that,” Coni argued, but maybe it was. “How does she get up every day, get dressed, face other people … How do you recover? How do you act normal? How do you … ?” She ran out of words, unable to articulate how deeply she was touched by all that Raena had endured.
“She’s able to do it, because she was shut in that tomb for twenty years,” Mykah reminded, “where she was safe from him. She couldn’t die, so she had to heal.”
Coni bent down to rub the top of her head under his chin.
“You’re welcome.” He scratched her gently behind the ear. “You know you can always come to me with your questions. I don’t know all that Raena’s survived—I don’t think she’s let anyone know it all—but I understand pretty well how she did it.”
There were times when Raena missed her bubble bath. When Kavanaugh had delivered her to Gavin’s moon base up above the Templar tombworld, the two men had adapted a rocket casing so she could have her first bath in decades. Even though the water had cooled faster than she would have preferred, it was still heavenly. Raena wondered if Vezali could rig some kind of bathtub out of the weapons the Thallians left behind.
In the meantime, she stepped into the shower in her cabin. She set the water to be practically scalding, but didn’t allow herself to luxuriate in it for long. No telling how many times that water had been cycled already.
Her thoughts had finally quieted. After she toweled herself off, she couldn’t think of anything she particularly wanted to do. So she crawled back into her bunk and let her eyes slide closed, hoping for the peaceful sleep that had eluded her earlier.
If not that, then some nice pastoral dreams about flying.
In her tomb, Raena experimented with turning the electric torch off for short periods of time. She knew the torch’s batteries were not going to last forever. As far as she knew, her imprisonment was intended to be for life, so she was likely to outlive the light. Whenever she considered what life would be like once the light was gone, she wanted to weep—but her tears had apparently used themselves up. Her inability to cry didn’t make the emotion any less intense.
She was trying to memorize the boundaries of the tomb. She started by walking to the cavern’s entrance, where she put her hand on the slab and switched off the torch. Then she paced forward slowly, counting her steps.
She wondered if going crazy was a choice. Could she choose madness? If she went crazy, would the darkness fill with ghosts? Would they attack her, gang up, avenge themselves on her? Would it be better to have company, any company, than to have the fear of the dark so clear in her mind?
She halted abruptly. She realized she had forgotten her count. She turned around carefully, one hand always on the wall, and walked back toward the tomb’s slab to begin again.
The fear began to spiral: how far had she gone? It seemed like she was walking back farther than she’d already come. Was she lost? Was it possible to get lost? Was the cave rearranging itself around her in the darkness?
Panting, unable to catch her breath, she snapped the torch on. The entrance of the tomb was a mere arm’s length ahead of her.
Raena sank to the floor with her back against the wall. She took a deep breath, held it as long as she could, then blew it out slowly. Then she
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