Dark Stars by Danielle Rollins (most read books of all time .txt) 📗

Okay! The second injection appears to have been successful. I experienced the same strange, tingling sensation as I did the first time I attempted this and, so far, no aortic rupture. So that’s a good sign.

Now, it’s time for me to go back to the Cascadia subduction zone and see if, this time, my mission will be successful.

10

Dorothy’s fingers trembled. The dagger she held twitched and then fell with a clatter into the sink below. The exotic matter that had been clinging to the blade disappeared in an iridescent haze that smelled, oddly, of campfire smoke.

Blast. She exhaled, her eyes snapping closed. She didn’t think she could do this. It was simply too terrifying, too risky. She’d spent the last day reading through the Professor’s journal pages—pages that contained lurid, visceral details of all the ways that experimenting with exotic matter could go wrong.

Skin burning off her body and hands, and feet left numb and useless. Not to mention death . . .

The Professor had come dangerously close to these complications himself, and he’d been using medical illustrations to find the exact location of his aorta, he’d had a special gun that he’d built using schematics from one of the most brilliant scientific minds of all time, while she had dagger that hadn’t even been sterilized properly.

And he’d still missed the first time he’d attempted the injection. She didn’t stand a chance.

“Hiding, little Fox?” Mac’s voice traveled from the other side of the bathroom door, making Dorothy twitch. She was losing her edge. She hadn’t even heard him enter the room. Hands shaking, she quickly replaced the top of the container of EM and stored it, along with Roman’s dagger, in the space underneath the bathroom sink. Mac was going to search her, she knew, and hiding these things in his personal bathroom might keep them away from him for long enough to give her time to form a plan. She hoped.

She’d only just closed the cupboard when the bathroom door burst open and two black-clad Cirkus Freaks appeared. She lifted her eyes to the mirror and saw Donovan and Eliza standing behind her.

Her shoulders tensed. She hadn’t seen Donovan since the night he’d betrayed her. According to Mac, he’d done it for a peach, of all things. Dorothy still couldn’t decide whether she was horribly offended by this or if she merely pitied him. How sad must a person’s life be if they would betray someone for a piece of fruit?

She fought as they each grabbed one of her arms (more for show than anything else, she couldn’t have these two telling the others that the great Quinn Fox had come along easily) but they were two and armed, and she was only one. Before long, they’d managed to drag her back into the main penthouse and shove her to the floor.

Her knees and the palms of her hands scraped against the hard wood, roughly enough that she felt certain she’d have bruises in the morning. From her position, she could see only Mac’s boots, which were black and freshly polished. A distorted version of her own face reflected back from the leather.

She pulled her gaze away and, gingerly, pushed herself to her knees. Then, in the most pleasant voice she could manage, she said, “Mac, darling. I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

Mac grunted. His squashed, toad-like face was nearly always twisted into an unpleasant, vaguely constipated expression but, just now, he seemed even more annoyed than usual. He’d probably expected her to cry or beg. It delighted her, that she hadn’t given him the pleasure.

“Donovan?” he grunted. “The bag.”

The bag? Dorothy felt her nerves tighten. Whatever the bag was, she knew that it couldn’t be good. She worked hard to keep the fear from her face as Donovan crossed the hotel room, hauling a duffel onto the hotel bed. Dorothy thought she saw the muscles in his shoulders stiffen as he unzipped the bag and stared down at what was inside.

When Donovan spoke again, his voice was choked. “Sir?”

“Leave it there for now.” Turning back to Dorothy, Mac said, “Believe me, princess, I want to use what’s in that bag.” His thick lips twisted. “In fact, I want to use it very much, but I figured I’d be all gentlemanlike and give you a chance to come clean first.” He paused, blinking, before adding, “Is there anything you’d like to share with the rest of the group?”

“Come clean?” She worked hard to keep her expression innocent. He must be talking about the exotic matter. His pilot must’ve returned once he’d discovered that it was missing.

There was no one holding her anymore, so Dorothy pushed herself to her feet and perched at the very edge of the hotel room bed, trying to look like she was preparing herself for nothing more than an unpleasant chat. The bag hovered at the edge of her vision, but she wouldn’t allow herself to look at it directly, she refused to give Mac that satisfaction.

It didn’t stop her from wondering what it might contain, though. Some arcane tool he was planning to use to torture her with, perhaps? Or . . .

No, it was almost certainly going to be the torture. Her throat felt suddenly tight.

To Mac, she said, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I missed you all, and so I returned. It’s as simple as that.”

“I ain’t stupid, Fox,” Mac said.

“Obviously not,” she said, without conviction, letting her eyes travel around the room. Donovan and Eliza flanked the door, and she knew that another two guards stood on the other side. The only other way out was through the window. Which was possible, she knew from experience. But highly unpleasant.

She turned back to Mac and said, her smile tight, “Even so, I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Mac studied her, mouth working like he was chewing on a piece of grass. After a long moment, he spat on