Swift for the Sun by Karen Bovenmyer

Author:Karen Bovenmyer [Bovenmyer, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay Romance
ISBN: 9781634777636
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2017-03-27T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23. The Cave

THE SMELL at the cave mouth was physical, palpable—a great hand that pressed against my chest and kept me from entering even when I felt Edwin’s gun dig into my side.

“Walk.” He shoved me forward. I held my breath as I stumbled. I heard the rough oaths of the men as he ordered them to follow us. They tied cloth over their noses and mouths, more an attempt to keep the oily stench from their skin than to keep it from their lungs. There was no escaping it.

Time to act the man. My eyes watered as I forced myself to breathe, but I didn’t retch. My stomach loved cheese that much, refusing to give it up so easily. I tried damned hard to do my stomach proud. I made it look as though the burning fingers of stench didn’t bother me, even as they stole my breath and gouged my lungs.

After only a few steps, Vasco’s torch was the only thing lighting the way. The cave walls were frozen waves, undulating like the huge stone intestine they were. Last time I’d gone in from one of the cracks. The main tunnel was far more impressive—an ancient lava pathway.

The cave was wet as a mouth, water dripping from the ceiling. I tried to remember if mold had been growing on the bodies when I’d fallen into the pit. My stomach stayed strong despite the memory. It vaguely occurred to me I should be shivering in horror, but I wasn’t. Something in my brain was clearly broken. Had been broken.

As if the thought summoned him, Martio appeared out of the depths of the cave.

“Where is Sólmundur?” Edwin yanked me close to him, eyes wide. Everyone’s eyes showed whites around the edges. The torches couldn’t cast enough light into this place, and every man stared as though looking harder would make the cave brighter.

“Here.” The big Brazilian was breathless, streaked with dirt and scratches, and looked angry enough to crack stone.

“Eyes to the sides.” Edwin’s order was entirely unnecessary. There wasn’t a man who wasn’t already jumping out of his skin. The group bristled with guns like a porcupine.

There was a killer on the loose. My killer. My love. I laughed.

“Shut up, you.” Vasco hit me on the back of the knee, and I went down. Abruptly a terror came over me, lying on the ground in front of Martio, and I scrambled to the side of the cave away from him. I yelled, made unintelligible by my fear.

“Shut up! Shut up!” Vasco screamed.

A series of events happened too quickly for me to take them in. Weasel dropped to the ground, sliding a knife across Vasco’s heel. The diminutive spy struck again, unstoppably fast. The last two sailors fell, one with a slit throat yawning wide and spurting, the other clutching his chest—Weasel jumped and slashed. Sun leaped from a large crack above us and took Martio to the ground, his irons around Martio’s neck.

Vasco writhed in the dirt, screaming, bleeding.

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