“He’s steady, mostly. Reliable, though he’s got a nasty temper. He can be a brute when he’s properly riled.”
From his expression, that wasn’t the response he was looking for. But he didn’t say anything more about it. Instead, he watched the men hauling the bodies. They were irreverent about it, forcing the dead into undignified poses, or dragging a body by its hair. Dred didn’t chastise them; they were entitled to their small pleasures after such an impossible victory. For a few minutes, she’d thought this would be their last stand, the end of Queensland.
“I thought Grigor might hit Silence’s people. Then we would’ve had a proper dustup.”
A shiver ran through her, though Dred tried to conceal it. “We wouldn’t be having this conversation. These tactics won’t work a second time, and we don’t have the numbers to mount a frontal assault on Grigor. Mary only knows how Silence thinks we’ll defeat him.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jael said. “Enjoy the breathing room for now . . . and it might give him pause about coming at you, now that his alliance is defunct.”
“We have to neutralize the threat.” There was no way around the necessity, as she’d promised the Great Bear’s territory to Silence in payment for her aid.
Jael probably knew as much. “Not today.”
“This place will be very different with four of us in power. Lots more space.”
“It can’t be much longer before the supply ship arrives with fresh fish. Don’t let Grigor bolster his numbers.”
Dred had thought of that. “I’m aware.”
It took several hours to clear away all the corpses. By that point, she was feeling stronger, so she put Calypso in charge of supervising the cleanup. She noticed how Jael watched the other woman, and when he turned back to her, she raised her brows.
“She’s one of five survivors,” he said quietly. “Of the fifty men sent with me.”
“Damn.” Regret cascaded through her.
He shrugged. “I’ve run ops where I was the only one who walked away. But it’s harder when you’re giving the orders.”
“It speaks well of you that you feel that way. Some people have no trouble sending others to die on their behalf, and it doesn’t bother them at all.”
“I’m a prince, right enough. What’s next on the agenda?” It seemed he had appointed himself the Dread Queen’s bodyguard—or maybe he had instructions from Tam or Einar. That wouldn’t surprise her at all.
“While they’re scrubbing up from the battle, we need to walk through Abaddon and take stock of what we’ve gained.”
“Ah, time to count our shiny new toys?”
Dred laughed. “Exactly.”
Some of the rooms were beyond disgusting. The smell alone defied description, a combination of decaying flesh and rotting meat. She covered her mouth with one hand, trying to keep her breakfast down. Everyone had heard stories about Abaddon, but even the worst didn’t do the atrocities justice. If she could have, she’d have chopped Priest’s head off all over again.
“I was too quick,” she said, coldly furious. “Too merciful.”
When she turned to Jael, his mouth was pressed into a tight, pale line. “Turns ago, I thought the Farwan labs were the worst place in the universe. I mean, it was hell . . . the things they did to us. But this . . . this is worse. Because however wrong I think they were, those scientists had a reason for the experiments. They were working with purpose.”
“Whereas this is torture for its own sake.”
There were four different places in Abaddon that seemed to have been devoted to torment and anguish. For the first time, Dred closed her eyes to see if the rooms had absorbed the pain and despair of those murdered within the walls. The area throbbed with red energy, echoes of madness. Stunned, she staggered back, and Jael steadied her with a hand in the small of her back.
“What?” he asked.
Softly, she told him.
He drew her away. “Have these rooms cleaned, then sealed. Give it time to fade.” He hesitated, scanning her face. Whatever he saw made him add, “I’d keep the men out. I don’t know how much I believe that atmosphere can drive people to do twisted things, but it just doesn’t seem wise to tempt fate.”
“I know what you mean. And Queenslanders are just as susceptible to violent impulses as anyone in Perdition. That’s why we’re all here.”
To her relief, the rest of the inventory went smoother. She cracked open a case and gazed at Jael, eyes wide. “This is full of paste. I guess I know where all of the food supplies ended up.”
Another carton yielded actual medicine. It made no sense that Priest would hoard such things, but maybe he’d had some insane religious justification for it. They also found a stockpile of ammo for the turret as well as rudimentary magnetic sensor bracelets. Jael snapped one on his wrist and beckoned her with a jerk of his chin.
She wasn’t used to taking orders anymore, but Dred didn’t make him explain. In some ways, it was a relief to spend time with someone who didn’t expect her to be scary, awe-inspiring, and unknowable all the time. Tam and Einar offered a break from playing a constant role; and to a lesser degree, so did Ike and Wills. She didn’t feel as close to them, however, possibly because of the power exchange she’d experienced with Jael.
First, he was helpless with me—and then vice versa. It . . . changes things.
Jael led her to one of the turrets, tilted it forward, and switched it to motion-sensing mode. Then, before she could protest, he dashed in front of it. The gun stayed quiet. Dred exhaled in nervous relief and tried not to show how worried she’d been.
It’s just that he’s useful. If he gets himself killed, I’ve lost a valuable asset.
“That was stupid,” she commented. “What if you were wrong?”
“I almost never am.” He flashed a cocky smile, but this time, she recognized the vulnerability; Jael only used that look when he expected nobody gave a damn.
Quickly, Dred checked. The corridor was deserted apart from them, as all of her men were clearing away the refuse in other parts of Abaddon. She took a couple steps toward him and tapped his chest lightly.
“We have a situation. You have a tendency to risk your life recklessly. I don’t approve.”
“And why is that, love?” For the first time, his use of that endearment didn’t sound razor-sharp, laced with derision. Maybe he didn’t mean for it to, but his voice softened, and his eyes burned with the blue found only at the heart of the hottest flames.