Evander takes the helm and sets the trajectory. Draven has the coordinates to Peter Paradooli’s manor – and expertly gets the shuttle’s AI to project a map of the site; showing us the weaker points of Paradooli’s security and pointing out the best attack route.
“There’s a door here that has an alarm attached to it,” Draven’s finger hovers over one of the lesser-used entrances. “The alarm is triggered whenever the door is opened.”
“What good is that to us, then?” Evander growls.
The spark of mischief lights up in Draven’s eyes.
“It’s of use to us, my large friend, because I’ve been triggering that alarm every night for the last week straight. After four days, Paradooli’s security stopped responding to it at all. They figure there’s just a short in the circuit, but can’t seem to correct the problem.”
Augustus snorts: “Because there is no problem. There’s nothing to fix.”
Draven nods triumphantly. “Exactly.”
I have to nod in respect. Draven has been planning this attack in minute detail.
“So, no guards will come?” Even Evander sounds impressed.
“They haven’t for the past three days. I’m confident we’ll be able to get in undetected.” The swordsman laughs dryly. “Getting out is going to be a different matter. Paradooli has over one-hundred-and-thirty men.”
I narrow my eyes. Our triad are formidable warriors, and we’re armed with Orb-Weapons – but even then…
That’ll be more than forty-to-one – and they’ll have guns.
“The good news is that the bulk of his men are spread out all over the city. At least thirty will be providing security at his manor, but we’ll have some time before reinforcements arrive.”
Draven gestures towards the hilts of our Orb-Blades.
“I take it you gentlemen know how to use those weapons?”
We all turn to him, and Evander raises an eyebrow at the human’s impudence. He doesn’t say anything, though – almost as if he’s a little impressed by it.
Conan is the only to answer Draven – nodding: “Aye, human. We’ve used them a time or two before.”
A time or two…
We might have lasted a week of our hundred years of service to the Aurelian Empire – and we might have only lasted minutes beneath the ground, in that deathtrap hellhole of a Scorp nest – but all three of us made sure our Orb-Blades tasted Scorp blood while we were down there.
We’re young, and Rogue – but we’re lethal with our Orb-Weapons.
The three of us look to Draven. Perhaps at another time, we might reject the arrogance of this cocky human swordsman – who stands alongside us like he’s as trained or as formidable in battle as we are…
…but perhaps he is. And, even if not, he still saved our lives.
Besides, we have something more important to worry about than our egos. We have to save Ashley – because she saved all of us.
Ashley has changed us – solidifying our will, and healing our broken souls.
Evander takes the controls. He follows the directions, and soon we’re approaching the outskirts of Peter Paradooli’s luxurious mansion.
We fly overhead, and the night sky is filled with stars as we look at the walls of his towering manor.
“You better be right about that door,” growls Conan. He’s fingering the hilt of his Orb-Blade eagerly. We’re all ready for battle – and all ready to save our mate.
You might think that Draven would be contrite, but his eyes light up.
“You’d better be good with that blade,” he teases – but as soon as he says it, the laughing light dies in his eyes.
Suddenly, instead, there’s a grim eagerness that mirrors my own.
Draven appears flippant and foolish – but we’ve seen how deadly he is, and now we can see the cold intensity of his purpose.
We’re here to rescue Ashley. He’s here for a darker purpose. Draven wants revenge.
Peter Paradooli must have killed someone very close to him – and I have a feeling Peter will regret that decision before the night is through.
Our ship stalks through the night, the black hull almost invisible in the night sky.
We approach the compound, and Evander sinks the vessel to the ground. One by one, we jump out of it, into the dark gardens.
Then, the vessel rises again – lifting off, and following the pre-programmed instructions we’d fed into the auto-pilot.
Our expensive, rented craft begins one last voyage, as it rushes the manor.
14
Ashley
Peter strides forward. Guards surround him.
He presses his ear, trying to get the sub-communication device lodged there to work.
“Gerard? Gerard, come in! Come in, now!”
The tiniest flicker of hope surges up in me. Maybe, just maybe, my three towering Aurelians managed to survive the onslaught of bullets from that lethal slug-gun.
I know in my heart that there’s probably a much darker explanation – more likely that the comms unit is simply malfunctioning – but hope makes a good last meal.
Grief fills me, but I know I have to be strong.
We’re in the main dining hall of Peter Paradooli’s towering mansion, and those four disgusting Bullfrogs are seated at the huge table.
There’s a massive array of food and drink laid out in front of them, but the greedy creatures clearly have other appetites they want satisfied.
They’re looking at us – the three recaptured slave girls – with open and leering lust.
“Very, very good,” Don Sloor gurgles slowly, his bulbous eyes burning into me. “You got them back from those cheating bastards.”
The Don licks his blubbery lips.
“I think I’ll be enjoying that curvaceous beauty tonight.” I shiver, realizing he’s looking directly at me.
I feel disgust in my belly. I’d deliberately prevented the Aurelians from claiming my virginity, to ensure they were motivated to rescue Danielle.
Now, I’m revolted at the thought that Don Sloor will take it, instead.
But I have to be strong. I can’t depend on the Aurelians to save me anymore. I can’t
