Chapter 13
Ender smelled the smoke long before he ever saw a hint of the fire in the valley.
He should have seen the smoke though. And if it was any other day, he possibly would have.
But that day, the clouds were so thick, so gray, that beyond comprehension, it managed to hide it just long enough that, even amongst his growing panic as he rushed towards his home, his family, his life, his very reason to live, Ender had managed to hold on to hope, despite the sounds of dropping bombs.
But as his eyes finally saw into the valley below, that hope died.
His breath caught in his chest as he let out a soundless scream.
Ender jerked awake on a wheezing gasp. Staring wide-eyed up at the ceiling, still struggling to breathe, he sat up, shakily clutching at his chest as his heart clenched painfully while it thudded away.
His bones ached with each tremor that made its way through his body, the fear from the memory tricking his mind into thinking he tasted smoke.
Ender’s wheezing breaths filled the silence while he sat there, chilled to the bone.
The trembling only worsened as he slowly regained control of his breathing.
“Can’t be…” Ender rasped hoarsely. Swallowing hard, he roughly rubbed his face, and groaned, “Oh, fuck,” when the taste in his mouth tauntingly remained, as if to call out his denial.
But it was too soon! It was too FUCKING soon for the nightmares to start… But—no!
He took a few deep breaths in and out. “Calm down,” he hissed.
It was too soon. Which meant this was just a wayward nightmare screwing with him. It happened. It wasn’t like he didn’t have them at other parts of the year. Yep, and if he just ignored the fact that this was how things always started, every single year, then things were a-o-fucking-k.
No, no…it was too soon. Just a fluke. Ender slipped from his bed, hurrying to shower as he continued to tremble.
Cranking it up to full heat, he groaned as he stepped under the spray. Yet, while his skin warmed, inside he still felt cold. But then, he supposed he hadn’t felt truly warm since Cooper died…
Ender shook his head—nope, not going there!
There were other pressing matters anyway, at least more pressing than his long-dead husband.
Like Cyrus and his foray into breaking one of his family’s more often than not arbitrary rules.
A man they’d possibly be running into today as they attacked Riker…
Cyrus Grimm and Killian Neftlem, a handsome couple for sure, but a pain in his rear. When he’d first figured out who Riker had kidnapped, he’d been unsure of who he was there to help… But the longer he thought about it, considering what he knew of Cyrus…
Which wasn’t much, to be honest, at least not personality-wise.
However, if Ender assumed that the reason he was here was Killian, knowing the Siren after his many, sometimes entertaining, interactions with him hacking-wise, he knew the man was not the type to sit back and do nothing just because he was caged.
While Killian could wait patiently, and wasn’t easily goaded, not to mention that he usually knew the exact right time to attack, he also had a bad habit of leaving himself open and vulnerable at the worst fucking moments.
It wouldn’t surprise Ender if that was exactly what was going to happen, and it predictably would end with his death...or at least it should have.
Ender chuckled. Well, he was there for a reason, wasn’t he? They had always planned to attack and then board, but there was no harm in him sneaking on and preemptively seeking out the Siren first, right?
He snorted when the urge that had got him there in the first place reared its ugly mug. “Well, that answers that. Fine, fine,” he sighed, before huffing to no one. “But only because I want to…and the Siren is pretty.”
Well, that and also because Killian getting murdered in front of Skya would scar the poor little Nymph. He’d prefer Severo and Seri’s child not have to suffer anymore scarring memories. Though he feared there was no way for her to get out of this without at least a few more…ugh…
His eyes strained and sweat dripped down Cyrus’ body as he tried to see the faces—any face, for that matter—of the people set to attack before they arrived.
But just as he had every time before, he saw movement and people fighting.
He could identify the traffickers by their clothing actually being in detail, but when he tried to see the people fighting them, it got blurry.
He was sure now that the clips he was seeing were something that was set to happen, that this wasn't the old timeline, but the new. It was just that the FUCKING threads wouldn’t tell him anything else of importance!
He couldn't even see the before. All Cyrus could see was this small stretch of moment during the fight, which had them coming upon others who were already there.
He had read no emotions. In fact, Cyrus didn't read a damn thing that would clue him in to whether the people there would attack them or not.
“Still nothing?!” Severo huffed.
His gaze slowly slipped to the Shadow Dweller, who was sitting next to him gawking, before he snapped, “You know it’s a bit hard to concentrate with you sitting there, constantly asking!?”
Yeah, no, that was a lie. Regardless, he was getting jack shit.
“Well, excuse me, but we are kind of running out of fucking time!”
“I know that! But it’s looking like we are going to have to go in blind.”
“Great…just great. Unknown assailants, with my precious gummy bear somewhere on the ship.” Severo groaned. “Well, I mean…at least she should be safely tucked away somewhere, right?”
He winced.
The Dweller’s eyes narrowed, as he more forcefully this time said, “Right?!”
“Did I…never mention…that in my, um…death vision of Killian…he was definitely not in a holding cell, and I’m thinking he may be…likely within the next fifty minutes or so…going to escape?”
“HE WHAT?!”
Killian remained completely calm and silent, not daring to act in any way out of the ordinary, to avoid attracting the attention of the guard whose back was currently turned away from them.
The man was in fact stupidly sitting in a chair, looking towards the outer door, as if that was the threat, and where he should be watching.
He supposed him being poorly trained was a good thing for all of them locked in there.
A wave of relief hit Killian at the first sight of the little girl’s shadow stretching forward towards the door.
As Skya tensed, he could tell she was fighting with all her might to control and bend powers she didn’t understand, to do something that he wasn’t entirely sure she could…
which was disable the electric lock mechanism on the cell door.
Electronic or not, there was still something physical in the lock that could be disengaged manually… hopefully.
The others around him seemed to tense, holding their breath. They knew what was coming, as he’d warned them, if only to stop them from accidentally alerting their captors.
Killian had to stop the laugh that tried to bubble up when he heard the lock disengaged—the guard none the wiser. With a bright smile on his face, he slowly sat Skya down and stood, ruffling her hair, as he mouthed ‘good job’. The Nymph gave him a watery smile back.
He closed his eyes briefly, miming covering his ears and closing his eyes to the children that were crowded behind him. One by one, the thirty-seven little ones, including Skya, closed their eyes and covered their ears.
Ah, such good listeners! Not a single drop of Siren powers were needed. Not that he could have used them right now. The kids were honestly easier to deal with than adults, and they were all getting cookies after this…as soon as he could find some.
Turning, Killian went to the cell door. With his left hand wrapped around the light indicator that was now green, which would alert the guard to the door being unlocked, he called out, “Hey, fuckface!”
The guard flinched at his words, looking back, his eyes narrowing. “What the hell did you just call me?!”
Despite having their ears covered, they obviously had heard him well enough, as some of the children behind him giggled nervously, including Skya. He was so going to get in trouble for the language he’d used here… Oh well, he could just blame the traffickers!
Smirking slyly, he met the Cryptid’s gaze. “I'm pretty sure I enunciated clearly enough not to repeat myself.”
The guard stood, and like all of the men he’d seen on board, aside from Riker, he was bulky, and at least six foot, which made him about an inch taller than Killian. Sauntering over, with a scowl on his face, the fool had not even thought to pull out his weapon.
“What in the hell do—” The man’s words cut off on a muffled yelp as, in quick succession, Killian grabbed onto the man’s lower jaw and yanked him forward, shoving the door with his other hand into the guard’s head, only narrowly missing crushing his own hand.
Killian slammed the door into the man three more times, each time with more force, and with the help of the other prisoners surging forward and adding their weight to the equation, the last hit ended with a resounding crunch as the guard’s skull fractured, blood spurting out and dripping down the bars.
The idiot hadn’t even had time to fight back, and as Killian released the man, who dropped like a log, he frankly didn’t care if he lived or not.
Based on his fading heartbeat, it was likely not.
Shoving the soon to be dead body out of the way, as he forced the door fully open, Killian hurried toward the guard.
Pulling the bastard’s shirt up to hide the gore from the children, he stole the Cryptid’s gun, tucking it into his pocket, before trying the guard’s thumbprint on the locks for his cuffs and collar.
While the cuffs on his wrists and ankles came off, he growled in frustration when his collar remained in place.
It just meant someone else was the key to opening it.
He wasn’t sure if the chains were configured to allow any trafficker to open them, but this confirmed that at least some of them were individualized.
Well, at least Killian could still do some stuff, he supposed. It was not like space was even an ideal environment for the grander bulk of his abilities anyway. The lack of an atmosphere kind of got in the way. However, he couldn’t use the full power of his voice with the collar still on.
Standing, Killian stepped back, letting the others get through to attempt to free themselves.
Pulling the gun out, he smirked as he met the hopeful gazes of the newly-freed captives, who were standing behind waiting, along with those of the children that were now staring up at him and listening.
“Up for taking over this bucket of bolts?”