“There’s a network,” Nile said. “Mercs may work in small units or solo, but we keep in touch. We can spread the word to the network and then fan out from there. I think we can accelerate things, get the Skins as far away from the Outlands as possible as quickly as possible.”
“It’s a solid idea,” Helgi said.
Dante nodded. “We can start expanding the settlement to the east. I’ll arrange horses and supplies for you both. When do you plan to leave?”
Bran looked at me. “Can you spare us?”
These guys had fought alongside us, survived with us. We were a team and I was going to miss them, but this was a solid plan and one we needed to execute right away.
A lump formed in my throat. “Don’t get yourself killed.”
He gave me a lopsided grin that made the scales on his face lift slightly. “We’ll be back before you know it. Don’t get into any rumbles without us.”
“I’ll try, but I’m not promising anything.”
Bran turned to Dante. “We’ll leave as soon as you have supplies ready.”
Dante nodded. “Tomorrow morning.”
It was settled. Half our team would be leaving in the morning. My gut twisted in foreboding, but I tamped down on it. This had to be done. For the good of us all.
* * *
The warehouse was a low building at the far edge of town. It was filled with machine parts from the planes the wards had brought down over the years. There were barrels of oil and cases of solvents, boxes of bullets and a crate of guns. Several tanks were hidden outside beneath a tarp.
This was a haul all right. If we could get the planes and tanks up and running, then we could train the Dreki, and any Skins who wished to fight, on how to drive and fly. Not that I had any experience in flying a plane, but I was confident I could figure it out.
Dreki had fire as their only ranged weapon. But Draco had bullets and cannons, the electric charge they’d used on Vesper, and collars. Even with the tanks, planes, and guns at our disposal, once the Draco put their new tech onto the battlefield with their super soldiers and newly bred wyverns, the Dreki were fucked.
Surely Dante realized this?
But he was looking at me with hope in his eyes, as if my fixing the items in this building and showing the Dreki how to fire a gun would be enough to turn the tide in their favor.
How did I tell him he was mistaken?
“This won’t be enough,” Helgi said. “You think a few tanks and some guns will be enough against the tech the Draco have?”
Looked like I wouldn’t have to. Helgi, blunt and to the point as usual, was doing it for me.
Dante slow-blinked. “If we can operate these machines we have better odds in ground combat. There are more guns, many more, and we have gunpowder and the materials to make bullets. We just don’t know how to operate the machinery that could churn them out.”
“But do you have the numbers?” Helgi asked.
“We’ve recruited Skins from the settlement. They can be trained to shoot.”
I needed to know. “How are things on the frontlines? How many Dreki troops do you have?”
He sighed. “Enough to maintain a stalemate.”
“But it won’t be for long, not with what the Draco are planning.”
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Maybe Vesper is right. Maybe I am a fool to think that this could be enough, but anything is better than doing the same thing over and over and hoping for a different outcome. At least this way we have a chance.”
I nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
The doors were dragged open and several Dreki strode in.
Looked like my trainees were here.
But a figure stood behind them, dark and forbidding and angry, and my pulse began to race.
Vesper strode into the room, brows pinched, mouth a straight line. “Dante, a word.”
Dante looked confused by Vesper’s tone but then his mouth parted as if he’d remembered something.
“Vesper, it completely slipped my mind,” Dante said.
The Dreki guards exchanged glances and then walked out of the warehouse in unison.
Helgi leaned in. “Drama.”
Bran snorted.
Dante squared up to Vesper as the obsidian Dreki approached.
“There are troops waiting for you at the barracks. Fresh fucking troops, newly trained and expecting a pep talk from their lord, and you’re here, pandering to a fucking Skin in the hopes of getting laid?”
In all my time with Dante I’d never seen him lose his temper. But there was a first time for everything. And from the way Dante’s shoulders expanded and jaw clenched, I was about to witness a first.
“Don’t you dare speak to me in that tone,” Dante said, his voice lethal-soft. “I am not one of your guards, I’m a fucking lord, and I’m doing what I feel is important for our troops.” He pointed at the abandoned parts and tech. “This is important. This could give us a tactical advantage we’ve never had. One the Draco won’t see coming.”
“This,” Vesper spat, “is a dream. This is a longshot, but those troops out there, waiting for the great Dante to grace them with his presence, are real. Ready to fly and die for a cause that’s greater than them, a cause they chose. And this Skin”—his contemptuous gaze seared me—“she’s only here to serve herself.”
I opened my mouth to tell him he was full of shit, but he cut me off, slicing a hand through the air.
“Oh shit,” Helgi said. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
She was right, because nothing incensed me more than being shushed, hushed, or cut off.
I stepped up to Vesper, meeting his acerbic glare. “Yes, I’m here to serve myself, but I’m also here to serve all the Skins that you fucking abandoned to the Bloods.”
“We’re protectors of humanity, not protectors of Skins,” he snapped. “My blood brothers, however, seem
