Proxy

CHAPTER 08

JETH DIDN’T REGAIN CONSCIOUSNESS UNTIL THEY WERE almost back to the Debonair. He sat up and looked around, spying Lizzie sitting on top of a barrel across from him. She looked guilt-stricken.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her voice far too quiet for his normally boisterous sister.

Jeth rubbed his aching head. It hurt, but not nearly as much as it would have if the stunner had hit him directly instead of just grazing him. There was that to be grateful for, at least. He slid his hand over his face, inspecting the damage with his fingers. Blood crusted the cuts on his cheeks where Danforth had clawed him. He needed to disinfect them soon. The bite on his arm was worse. He hoped one of the barrels was still full so he could douse it in alcohol.

“I’m fine,” Jeth said at last, looking up. He smiled, hiding the wince as the gesture pulled at his cuts. “You did good.”

She nodded, her expression unchanged.

Jeth frowned. “What’s wrong? Why are you so upset?”

“She thinks she killed him,” Shady said from where he stood in the opposite corner from Lizzie. He was casually tossing the Heart of the Universe from hand to hand like a baseball. Celeste and Flynn were in the cab of the truck. Shady pointed toward the back. Jeth turned and saw Danforth in a heap of tangled limbs.

“That’s nonsense,” Jeth said, getting to his feet. “He’ll be fine. It was just a stunner.” He walked over to Danforth and examined his face. Burner blood flowed freely from his nostrils, as well as his eyes and ears. Jeth swallowed. Maybe he wasn’t going to be all right. He bent over and felt for a pulse in Danforth’s neck. He found it after a few seconds. It was weak, but his Odyssey-ravaged heart was still beating.

Jeth turned back to Lizzie. “He’ll survive. The worst of it he did to himself.”

Lizzie didn’t say anything, and Jeth recoiled from the onslaught of guilt. Please don’t die. He didn’t want Lizzie shouldering that kind of burden.

He walked back to his sister and put an arm around her, squeezing. “I mean it, Liz. The blood is from the Odyssey, not your stunner shot.”

She swallowed. “I know that.”

Jeth sighed, knowing that she would need time to get over it. He shouldn’t expect her to bounce back right away. Hell, he would need time to get over it—the memory of Danforth’s face with his teeth bared and so close to his was enough fodder for a dozen nightmares.

Jeth hugged her once more, then stepped through the doorway to the cab. Ahead, the trees on the path they were following gave way to the clearing where they’d parked the Debonair hours before. Celeste pulled the truck to a stop and powered down the engines.

Mark Hilty greeted them with palpable relief as they climbed out.

“Thanks for alerting Hammer for us,” Jeth said as they began to clean out the truck of all evidence of their presence.

“Sure. If you’d gotten caught, it would’ve been my ass as much as yours.”

Jeth snorted. Not hardly. But he was too tired for a needless argument.

“What are you going to do about him?” Hilty asked, pointing at Danforth, still lying in the cargo hold. They’d been working around him, a problem no one wanted to face.

Jeth stared at Danforth, dread pulsing in his temples. It was up to him. He was the leader, and that meant making the hard decisions.

The rest of the Shades gathered around him.

“We could just leave him here,” Celeste said when Jeth hesitated.

Yes, they could.

“Or we could kill him,” Shady said, sounding only half-serious.

Jeth considered it. Killing him might be humane, merciful. But who was Jeth to make that choice? In that moment he’d never felt more like his age. Gone was the swagger of his position as leader of the Malleus Shades. In that moment he wanted to be someone else, somewhere else, more desperately than ever before. He wished he were on Avalon, traveling carefree through space, the tether of such responsibilities broken.

But that was just a fantasy. And it would remain one forever unless he continued to play this role and earn the money he needed.

Kill him.

Jeth tried to imagine if he even could. He was relieved to discover that he couldn’t. Not in cold blood. For once that dark, calculating part of him was silent.

Please don’t tell him, Danforth had said. Even in his crazed, drug-ravaged state he’d understood what was in store for him.

Jeth had known it, too. But he’d already given Danforth a chance to do the right thing. He couldn’t do it again. Hardening himself against the doubt already creeping into his mind and heart, Jeth made his decision. “We turn him over to Hammer.”

Nobody spoke, not to agree or argue. Jeth turned and headed for the Debonair, relieved to have the decision made. He pushed the doubt away, thinking about how Danforth had nearly gotten them captured. And he’d hurt Lizzie, both physically and emotionally. That alone was enough for Jeth to make his peace with it.

And he would. Sooner or later.