Winter Halo (Outcast 2)

He swung around, his gaze sweeping the landscape before meeting mine. Frustration and anger burned the air, as fierce as the nearby shadows were foul.

“I can’t see it.”

“Obviously.”

“Why in Rhea can’t something go right for a damn change?” He flexed his fingers, but the anger continued to radiate from him. “How long will it take you to regain enough energy to go in there?”

“I’m not entirely sure that would be a wise move—”

“So we stand around out here and do nothing? That’s not going to happen, Tiger. You have to go in after them.”

“Or what?” I snapped. “You’ll make me? Have Nuri threaten my little ones again?”

“No, of course not.” He thrust a hand through his short hair, frustration obvious. “But you’re the only one who can go through this thing, and that means you’re Penny’s only chance. I need you to do this, Tiger. Please.”

Despite my annoyance over his insistence, a smile tugged at my lips. “A ranger pleading with a déchet for help. Who’d have thought such a thing would be possible one hundred years ago?”

“Certainly not me.” Amusement briefly lit his eyes, but faded all too quickly. “Your answer?”

“Fine, I’ll go in,” I said, even as every part of me said it was a bad idea. “But not now. I need to get back to Central and Winter Halo.”

He frowned. “Doing so would be a dangerous ploy, given that we snatched the children from them.”

“We rescued another two, but there’s still seven out there somewhere.” Eight, if we included the now-missing Penny. “Besides, Sharran is due back at work tonight, and if she doesn’t appear they might just jump to the right conclusions.”

“We could simply send her back in. There is no need for you to be there now.”

“If we did that, we’d gain no knowledge as to what the hell is going on in those upper levels.” Besides, the last thing I wanted was to put Sharran’s life in danger, which it would be if she were promoted. At least I had a fighting chance of escaping the drugs and the dissection; she did not.

“Rath Winter is no fool—it’s highly likely he’ll suspect you’ve infiltrated that place. Especially now.”

“He undoubtedly will, but it’s doubtful he’ll suspect Sharran, as she hasn’t yet been promoted to the upper floors.”

He studied me for a moment, then said, “There’s something you’re not telling me.”

I hesitated. “They have Sal’s body.”

“And this is a problem because . . . ?”

“Because Sal was one of the rare grays—a déchet whose DNA was mixed with that of a salamander. Only five of them ever survived; understanding why might just give his partners the information they need to successfully merge human or shifter DNA with wraith. I have to get in there and destroy his remains before that happens.”

And, if I could, destroy the labs, free the women waiting in the holding c

ells, and release those on the dissection tables to death.

It was a tall order, and one I might not achieve. But I had to at least try.

Jonas didn’t immediately say anything, but an odd buzzing began in the back of my mind. I frowned and tried to pin down its source. I caught a word—chance—and realized I was hearing—or almost hearing—the telepathic conversation between Jonas and Nuri. Or his side of it, at least.

Then the buzzing stopped and Jonas said, “Fine. I don’t agree that it’s the best course of action right now, but it would seem I’m outvoted.”

“And does your disagreement stem from the danger, or from the fact that you’d rather I gain strength and then follow Penny and her captors into the false rift?”

“I won’t deny I’d rather you do the latter, but to suggest that overshadows my concerns about you going back into Winter Halo belittles both them and me.”

He swung around and headed across the emptiness, his long, angry strides stirring up a thick cloud of dust. The slight breeze caught it, spinning it into circular patterns, until it seemed he was being followed by a multitude of dust devils.

Why was I destined to always say the wrong thing around this man? It was decidedly odd, especially when my success as a lure very much depended on always knowing what—and what not—to say. But maybe men were easier to understand when they were little more than targets whom I might or might not be attracted to.