Starfall (Starflight #2)(81)
He jogged to the washroom and made his way into a toilet stall, where he dug the tiny sphere from his navel and held it above the commode.
Kane paused.
It struck him that there was no turning back after this. The crew would never find him without his tracker. He wouldn’t see Cassia again. His anger drained away, leaving behind an ache of guilt and longing. He wanted to be strong for Cassia, to fight for her.
But there was something else he wanted more.
His fingers separated as if acting on their own accord. The beacon dropped into the commode with a light plink. He stood transfixed, watching it swirl around and around in the water until finally it was gone. Then he backed out of the stall and returned to the training circuit.
“I’m ready,” he said, speaking mostly to the inhaler. That tiny tube was the center of gravity holding his whole world in orbit. He would say he loved the Gold, but that would be an understatement. He loved his mother. He loved Cassia. What he felt for the Gold was beyond anything emotions could measure.
His boss offered the inhaler, and Kane made a special effort to take it slowly into his hands, not to snatch it like an animal. He brought the mouthpiece to his lips in the same deliberate way, one inch at a time. He’d created a game of it, seeing how long he could make the anticipation last before his brain shut down and his need took over.
One, one thousand. Two, one thousand. Three, one thou—
He pumped the cartridge, sealing his lips around the mouthpiece to capture every last molecule, and then sucked in a breath and held it.
The dorm flew away, taking with it the clinking of weights and the odor of sweat until he existed in a dimension all his own. Here he was a god. Energy coursed through him, so raw and pure that he clapped a hand to his chest to see if he’d grown a second heart. This rush was different from the old drug. It lasted. Even when he returned to the mortal world, his muscles hummed with power. He blinked the other fighters into focus and instinctively knew he could lay waste to every one of them. Nobody had better pick a fight with him today.
He was invincible.
Jogging in place, he pounded one fist into the opposite palm and glanced at Cutter. “Think you can keep up, old man?”
The giant bared his teeth in a smile. “Eat my sand, kid.” Then he took off toward the back door, leaving Kane scrambling to catch up.
Cutter held the advantage as they darted in between the rows of dorms leading to the beach access. Once they reached the dunes, they flew up the deck steps and across the planks, their boots clattering loud enough to frighten a flock of newly imported seagulls into flight. The air was thicker at the shoreline, heavy with salt and humidity, but it didn’t slow Kane’s feet. He was powered by something supernatural. As he took the lead, he laughed and kicked up a storm of sand for Cutter to eat.
Kane sprinted along the water’s frothy edge, speeding past the maintenance workers dragging clean lounge chairs onto the beach, continuing beyond the saltwater pool, all the way to the last block of suites, where something near the sand dunes caught his eye.
Dead bodies?
He slowed to a jog, squinting against the rising sun at three ladies in white crumpled on the ground in awkward positions. As he approached, he could see their clothes were torn and bloodied. Off to the side, a man in blue shorts sat in a relaxed pose, propped on his elbows with both legs crossed at the ankles. He was talking to a woman kneeling at his feet. She held something small and metallic in her left hand, but Kane couldn’t tell what it was.
A breathless Cutter caught up, bracing his hands against his thighs as he panted and followed the direction of Kane’s gaze.
“Those girls are hurt,” Kane said, still trying to figure out what the fourth one was doing. She slid the metal object across the inside of her forearm, and a line of scarlet appeared. “I think she’s cutting herself.” And the guy in blue didn’t seem to care. “What the hell?”
“Let it go,” Cutter wheezed between breaths. “Guests can do what they want.”
But what was the guest doing?
Kane strode closer, studying the pair. The man in blue muttered something to the woman in white, and she sliced a second line in her flesh. Then understanding dawned. The guy was telling her to mutilate herself, and she was actually doing it.
Because the answer is always yes, never no.
A bullet of rage struck Kane so hard he blacked out. When he came to, he was running toward the dunes with his hands curled in fists and a wild roar tearing from his lungs. The man jerked his gaze toward him and flinched, which enraged Kane even more. He craved violence more than air. All he wanted was to lay his hands on that man and rip the limbs from his sockets. He imagined the resistance of the man’s flesh giving way, and his mouth watered. His muscles coiled with power as he flew toward his target, but just as he reached for the man’s throat, an invisible force knocked him to the ground.
He spat out a mouthful of sand and clawed his way toward the man, who was now scuttling away on all fours to the other side of the dune. Kane fought harder to buck the weight holding him down. He didn’t recognize the animal noises coming out of him, guttural snarls and howls of fury. His teeth ached in a primal need to sink into flesh. Someone was shouting, but he couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of murder in his ears.
Then a sobering fist struck Kane’s jaw.
“…out of your mind?” Cutter yelled from above him. “You could’ve torn that guy’s head off! The boss will have your ass when he finds out!”