The Hunted: The Marian, #2

The Players

Donovan Johns: The head of HydroSystems Worldwide. After a bomb obliterated nearly all of Earth's water supply, HydroSystems rose to the top as the only corporation with the authority to harvest and distribute water. Johns has taken advantage of his monopoly, charging exorbitant fees, contaminating water in order to create vitality pools that reverse the effects of aging, and even secretly working to keep the planet from replenishing its water supply.

Captain Duncan: The captain of the Marian, an illegal water harvesting ship. They look for natural wells where HydroSystems hasn't set up their own harvest stations and extract water from there, distributing some of the harvest to people in need. After discovering he'd been marked for Those Beyond, he convinced a Priestess of the Cloud to perform a soulswap on him, placing his soul in someone else's body and transporting that person's soul into his cursed body.

Ethan Denby: A fifteen-year-old boy from present-day Dallas, Texas. It was his body that Duncan's soul found its way into during the soulswap. He wakes up on board the Marian, completely unaware of what's happened to him. The crew isn't much help, either, as they weren't aware Duncan was even marked for Those Beyond.

The Priesthood of the Cloud: A cult who operates near the place where the bomb first dropped. In addition to destroying water, the bomb also damaged the fabric of reality in an area called the Cloud. Those who spend time inside the Cloud find themselves changed, often with new abilities beyond those of a normal human. The changes come with a price, though, often disfiguring those who spend too long inside the Cloud and eventually transforming them into something less than human. The Priesthood walks a delicate balance, trying to gain power while still maintaining some semblance of humanity.

Those Beyond: The dark, shapeless creatures that the Priesthood of the Cloud worships. They haunt Ethan's nightmares now that he is inside Duncan's body. They can't enter our world, but they can pull people into theirs. This is what happens when someone is marked for Those Beyond. The hole in Captain Duncan's wrist—which is now Ethan's wrist—is a portal into the world of Those Beyond.

Jackie Sparks: Duncan's nephew and the Marian's engineer. At seventeen, he was a promising engineer before Duncan recruited him to help bring inexpensive water to people in need.

Percy Hale: Duncan's right-hand man before the soulswap. With Duncan effectively gone from the ship, Percy takes over as captain. Jackie is wary of this change in leadership, as Percy was a mercenary before Duncan found him. All mercenaries live by a code: If someone saves your life, you owe him your loyalty. Duncan saved Percy's life years ago by clearing him of charges that called for execution. Percy claims to have pledged his loyalty to Duncan and the Marian because of this, but Jackie remains doubtful.

Tucker Frye: A former missionary to the Priesthood of the Cloud. Duncan rescued him from the Priesthood when they got tired of him and tried to execute him. Now he serves as a doctor to the crew.

Buddy: The Marian's engine operator. He hopes that by helping Duncan he can restore the world to the way it was before, when the arts flourished. He is a talented—if long-winded—poet.

The Navigator: Many of the crew believe he was alive when the bomb was dropped, but they don't know for sure. They've never been able to confirm his background because he is under the delusion that the Marian is just a small fishing vessel and that the oceans are still filled with water. Despite his break with reality, he is brilliant at navigation. He's never steered the crew wrong. Every spot on his map marked as a good fishing spot has turned out to be a well that HydroSystems has yet to take control of. The crew learns that the Navigator also has spots marked as good places to go whaling, and those have turned out to be locations of harvest stations belonging to HydroSystems.

Lester: The Marian's chef. Ancient, spiteful, and half-blind, he is horrible at his job. Many of the crew believe he also was alive when the bomb was dropped, but, like with the Navigator, they don't know for sure. Lester refuses to speak to anyone except when scolding someone for wasting food.

Kyle and Kale: Twin mercenaries who pledged their loyalty to Percy after he saved their lives long ago. They were born inside the Cloud, joined at the arm. When they were separated, a doctor performed experiments, attaching weapons to their bodies instead of prosthetic arms. Kale has a sword instead of a left arm, and Kyle has a musket instead of a right arm.

Bonnie Sparks: Jackie's older sister who coordinates the Marian's water distribution. She convinces Ethan to take her, Kyle, and Kale into the Cloud to make a deal with the Priesthood, without the knowledge of the rest of the crew. She hopes to exchange water for information on how to save Ethan from Those Beyond.

The Priestess: The lone member of the Priesthood of the Cloud who contacts the crew. She offers them information on how to escape Those Beyond in exchange for water. When Ethan arrives with Bonnie and the twins, the Priestess takes them into the Priesthood's temple. Inside, she tells them the only way to escape death once you've been marked is to be soulswapped. This is why Duncan came to her in the first place. The Priestess explains she was the one to mark Duncan for Those Beyond in the first place. As childhood friends, they pledged to join the Priesthood together, but Duncan changed his mind at the last minute, leaving her to join alone. Once she became powerful enough, she marked him in revenge.

Officer Vincent Jarvis: The Chief Enforcer for HydroSystems worldwide, in charge of preventing illegal water harvesting and distribution. He tracks the Marian all over the world, and finally catches up when the Priestess double-crosses Ethan, Bonnie, and the twins. Ethan kills him, but not before his men capture Bonnie.

Chapter One

The Messenger

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I

The man shouldn't have been running.

He shouldn't have seen the girl in the black cloak standing atop the crumbling building. He shouldn't have realized what she was up to, and he certainly shouldn't have reacted as quickly as he had. He should have been dead.

Instead, he was tearing across the crumbling pavement of an abandoned city.

The girl in the black cloak had done everything right. She'd tracked her target for miles without attracting attention. She'd chosen the perfect place for the kill. She'd lined up the perfect shot, and had been moments away from squeezing the trigger.

Then a gust of wind had caught her cloak.

She had to give the man credit. His eyes must have been good to catch the brief flutter before she dropped out of sight. He'd moved fast, too. It was obvious he knew what was at stake. This wasn't the first time someone had tried to kill him.

It would, however, be the last.

He whipped his head from side to side, searching for a place to hide. There was none, of course, and they both knew it. All the other buildings were insubstantial piles of rubble. The best he could do was run in a frenzied zigzag and pray she'd miss.

She watched him, finger on the trigger. If she fired now, she'd waste a bullet. The wind was still gusting, and at this distance, it made a difference. That was all right. She had time.

Her father's voice echoed across years of memory: People say you can't make long-range shots with a gun like this, but they're wrong. You just have to know your weapon.

The girl in the black cloak knew her weapon, all right. She'd been firing this particular rifle for what felt like her whole life.

The wind died down.

Her heart beat once, twice.

Between the third and fourth beat, she exhaled and pulled the trigger. The gun roared, punching against her shoulder.

The man staggered two more steps before dropping. He didn't writhe or moan in agony before he went. His was a quick death.

The girl in the black cloak set the rifle down and closed her eyes. She hadn't seen this one's face. He would be easy to forget. That was good.

Nice shot, said a voice behind her.

She turned, but not in surprise. She'd felt eyes on her since before the wind caught her cloak.

A smiling bald man stood behind her. A pair of goggles with silver frames had been shoved on top of his gleaming scalp. He crossed his arms over his barrel chest, casually resting his right hand on the butt of a pistol holstered at his left armpit. One eye pointed uselessly to the side, and the other focused on her with sharp, cool intelligence.

The Mark had been branded into his throat. He was a Messenger.

What do you want?

The Messenger smiled, oozing condescension. "We both know I'm not here for something I want. He absently traced the carvings on the grip of his pistol. My concern—and yours too, I would hope—is what he wants."

Don't you have someone else to bother? She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, toward the corpse in the otherwise empty street. In case you couldn't tell, I've got this under control.

That's not why I'm here. The Messenger grinned. A gold-capped tooth flashed in the fading sunlight. Although, if he had thought this was a job for a Marksman, he would have sent a Marksman.

The Messenger walked up to her with the air of a man approaching an old friend at a party. He lifted the hood from her head and ran his thumb over the Mark on her brow. The six puckered dots there matched the ones on his throat. They were arranged in a pyramid—one on top, two in the middle, and three at the bottom.

And you, my dear, are a Tinkerer.

She remembered the day she'd been marked. It had taken two men to hold her down while the hot brand went into her forehead. She hadn't felt anything at first, but her system caught up soon enough. It had felt like her entire head was on fire, but the worst part hadn't been the pain. It had been the smell of her own skin, cooking under the red-hot iron.

She hadn't cried, though. Years later, she was still proud of that. She'd only been twelve, but she hadn't cried.

She swatted the Messenger's hand away. I did the job, didn't I? Does he really care if I did it with a gun instead of a cheap gadget?

The Messenger folded his arms, again resting his right hand on the butt of the pistol. He grinned. It made her flesh crawl.

Your target is certainly dead. The Messenger chortled. And that's good for you. Just remember this in the future: When he sends a Tinkerer, he expects her to do the job like a Tinkerer.

They stared at each other in silence. The wind gusted again, scattering loose gravel across the streets.

When did mercenaries become glorified bounty hunters, anyway? she asked. "People like us used to get hired to fight in wars. We used to fight for causes, not...not whatever this was." She gestured at the body in the street.

We fight for the same thing we've always fought for. The Messenger lifted a hand, rubbing his thumb and forefinger together. It's always been about the money, and right now the money's in bounties. Nobody fights actual wars these days. They're too busy trying to keep from drying out. He tittered. Funny how it was a bomb that finally brought us world peace. All those people who dreamed of beating their swords into plowshares...if they'd known they just had to drop a bomb, I wonder if they'd have done it.

Why are you here?

The Messenger made a tsk, tsk sound. Oh, my dear Scarlet. You have the manners of a Bruiser and the patience of a Berserker. He smiled that obnoxious smile. Whatever happened to having a nice, leisurely—

Why. Are. You. Here?

He raised his hands and dipped his head amiably. "Fine, fine. Message received. After you collect your reward for this... He jerked his chin at the man in the alley. There's another one for you. A big one."

How big?

Double your usual.

Scarlet looked at the Messenger. Why?

The Messenger's good eye glittered. That part isn't important to you. Not when you're getting double commission. He handed her a scrap of paper with some basic information. Scrawled across the top in big, bold letters was a short phrase:

THE MARIAN AND HER CREW

Scarlet read over the information. Water smugglers? she said. Since when did water smugglers bring such a high bounty?

The Messenger shrugged. You're a mercenary, sweetie. I would think you could handle a kill without asking questions. He turned and began walking away.

Call me sweetie again, and I'll kill you.

Without turning, the Messenger waved over his shoulder. I don't doubt it. He was about to climb down the rusty fire escape when he turned back. Oh, Scarlet?

She didn't respond. Only kept staring at him.

He smiled. Others will be on this job, too, and there's no splitting the reward. First come, first served. You understand. He licked his lips. You should know I came to you first. He likes you, you know.

I don't believe that for a second.

That he likes you, or that I came to you first?

Both.

He smiled one last obnoxious smile. Scarlet's ears burned. "Now you sound like a Tinkerer. You always were the smart ones. Guess you'd better get to work."

Chapter Two

Raphael

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I

Ethan Denby clung to the mercenary in front of him, inhaling the stench of sweat and alcohol. The motorcycle whined beneath him as they sped across the salt dunes on the floor of a long-empty ocean.

Ethan lifted his head over Kyle's shoulder, squinting as eddies of salt leaped up around him, biting his cheeks and stinging his eyes. A few feet away, the other motorcycle bore only one figure. Kale leaned over the handlebars, steering with one hand. His other arm, which was actually a sword, hung lazily by his side.

There should have been another person with them.

Bonnie should have been sitting behind Kale, her arms around his waist and her red hair whipping behind her. But she was gone, left behind with the faceless HydroSystems lackeys and the faceless gods of the temple inside the Cloud.

Deep down, Ethan knew HydroSystems had taken Bonnie. He didn't have a clue what they'd done with her, though. He doubted they would've killed her, but that wasn't a comforting thought, considering the alternatives. They could be torturing her to get information about the Marian. They could have traded her to the Priesthood of the Cloud. Maybe they'd just taken her gas mask and left her to wander the Cloud, breathing the poison until she became something less than human.

As the last streaks of sunlight disappeared over the horizon, Kyle and Kale brought their motorcycles to a halt. They'd left the Cloud behind hours ago, and no one had spoken a word since. Ethan slid off the motorcycle, stretching his cramped muscles.

So what's the plan now? he asked.

Kyle pulled a couple lumps of coal from the satchel slung around the side of his motorcycle, dropping them into a chute by the engine. The plan is to get some supplies, he said. We left almost all our water at the temple, and on top of that, we're going to need more weapons.

We are?

Kale flashed a toothy grin. "You think what happened in the Cloud is gonna stay there? Word's gonna get out you killed Jarvis, and then HydroSystems will really want to take care of you. It was bad enough when you were stealing their water, but now you're killing their top dogs. Donovan Johns won't stand for that."

Ethan didn't like the way Kale was talking. There was too much excitement in his voice. He wanted HydroSystems to come after them. He wanted a fight.

But we've got weapons, Ethan said. He reached back and touched Raphael's gun, tucked into his waistband. An image flashed in his mind—black veins creeping up Jarvis's neck from beneath his collar—but he pushed it back.

Kyle shook his head. We need more. Your gun is great and all, but I guarantee they'll send more people than you have bullets.

Besides, Kale said. Ever since we saw what that gun of yours can do, we've just been dying to meet your buddy Raphael.

You know where to find him?

Kyle shrugged. Percy gave us an idea. We'll find him before it's too late.

Too late?

Kyle unclipped his canteen from the side of his motorcycle, sloshing the contents around. It was mostly full, but it wasn't a big container by any means. Kale's got another canteen about this size. We can make the supply last, but not forever.

Kale nodded. If we don't find more soon, HydroSystems won't even get a chance to get us back for Jarvis.

He'd stopped grinning.

II

How long they rode, Ethan had no idea. Kyle limited them to only a sip or two of water each day, and the reduced rations took their toll. Ethan was constantly lightheaded now. His arms felt like noodles as he tried to hold onto Kyle from the back of the motorcycle.

They rode through the night and slept during the day. Kyle didn't like being still in broad daylight, but the arrangement was a necessity. Driving in the afternoon heat meant they'd only sweat more.

Ethan preferred driving by moonlight. It was easier to see without the sun's glare, and the night air was pleasantly cool. The downside, of course, was that he wasn't sleeping nearly as well. He wore his goggles and draped a shirt over his eyes to block out the sun, but he couldn't keep the heat away. He didn't know how long it had been since he reached a true, deep sleep.

Occasionally, he dreamed of Those Beyond. He could never remember the dreams, though. He'd wake with little more than a lingering sense of dread, and occasionally the faint echoes of hoarse laughter. Otherwise, his memories of the dreams were mostly confused jumbles of images and sounds. Whether this was because of how poorly he was sleeping or because everything was jumbled in his sleep-deprived, dehydrated state, Ethan didn't care. He counted it a small victory all the same.

He had to take the victories where he could find them.

III

The dunes all looked the same to Ethan. There were no road signs or landmarks here. Just mile after mile of bright, white dunes. The twins knew what they were doing, though. They never stopped to get their bearings. They never discussed where to go next. They just drove.

Before Ethan could wonder if Kyle and Kale were only faking their confidence for his benefit, a sheer cliff face broke the monotony of the dunes. The twins coasted to a stop a few yards away.

Think this is it? Kale asked.

Only one way to find out, Kyle replied. Now it was his turn to grin.

The three of them stared at the island in silence. It had been easy enough to disembark onto islands from the Marian—thanks to its extending legs that carried the crew up to the top like an open-air elevator—but Ethan and the twins had no such luxury. Unless Kyle and Kale had something up their sleeves, they'd have to scale the island to get to Raphael's cave.

Ethan swallowed. We're not going to have to climb that ourselves, are we?

Kale hopped off his motorcycle. Sorry, pal, he said. We're gonna do this the old fashioned way. He wiped his hands on his pants and examined the wall of rock.

"The real old fashioned way was to take a boat and get off on the dock," Ethan muttered, sliding off Kyle's motorcycle.

Kale shrugged. Times are changing. Now the old fashioned way is to start at the ocean floor and climb.

The moonlight cast deep shadows all the way up the cliff. Can't we start climbing in the morning? Ethan asked. I can't even see where to put my hands.

Kyle looked at him. His eyes didn't have the same penetrating focus now as when they'd been back on the Marian. He swayed where he stood. He was trying to put on a brave face, but the dehydration was getting to him.

We can either climb blind or baking. Kyle held up his canteen and shook it. The sound of sloshing water was faint now. I choose blindness.

They began to climb.

For once, Ethan was thankful to be inside Duncan's body. His own body wouldn't be able to handle something like this. His muscles would have given out before he made it thirty feet above the dunes, and his fingers would have been raw and bleeding. But Duncan's muscles, lean as they were, had strength and endurance. His