BooksBarbecue
Back Seven Devils
Chapters (62)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1.
  4. 2.
  5. 3.
  6. 4.
  7. 5.
  8. 6.
  9. 7.
  10. 8.
  11. 9.
  12. 10.
  13. 11.
  14. 12.
  15. 13.
  16. 14.
  17. 15.
  18. 16.
  19. 17.
  20. 18.
  21. 19.
  22. 20.
  23. 21.
  24. 22.
  25. 23.
  26. 24.
  27. 25.
  28. 26.
  29. 27.
  30. 28.
  31. 29.
  32. 30.
  33. 31.
  34. 32.
  35. 33.
  36. 34.
  37. 35.
  38. 36.
  39. 37.
  40. 38.
  41. 39.
  42. 40.
  43. 41.
  44. 42.
  45. 43.
  46. 44.
  47. 45.
  48. 46.
  49. 47.
  50. 48.
  51. 49.
  52. 50.
  53. 51.
  54. 52.
  55. 53.
  56. 54.
  57. 55.
  58. 56.
  59. 57.
  60. EPILOGUE
  61. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  62. ABOUT THE AUTHORS

The guard reached the comm but realized what she’d done. He took off running in the opposite direction, shouting to the second guard, “Grab the woman!”

The other guard came after her. All Clo had to defend herself with was the wrench in her hand; her tool belt was the only thing she could get through the hangar without the Oracle’s scan immediately flagging her.

There was no time to prepare. The guard was on her, his Mors pressed against her skull. He gripped her wrist so hard he might break it. “Drop the wrench.”

“Up yer hummock,” Clo snarled. His eyes widened at her dialect before Clo kneed him in the groin and ducked just as the weapon fired. The laser blast hissed and the gun hit the metal floor.

Alarm lights flashed and blared. Silt, silt, silt.

Her Pathos beeped. <What in the seven devils did you do?> Eris demanded.

Clo shifted her weight to her good leg and slammed her wrench against the guard’s skull. He crumpled to the ground, but his enhancements would have him awake again soon. Clo took his Mors and shot him in the leg, wincing at the sizzle of flesh.

One guard down. Now the next.

<I’m taking care of it,> Clo said. <Just find out what’s on the fluming ship.>

Clo left the hangar. She could just make out the guard as he darted from the edges of the compound into the Snarl. He’d know her comms jam couldn’t spread far. If he reached the other side of the slum, he’d sound the alarm.

Clo sped up, grunting with effort, as she followed him into the crooked buildings of her old home.

It was as if she passed from daylight to growing dusk. The buildings were built so tall and close together that little sunlight penetrated the bottom levels. Lights flickered overhead, dangling on precarious wires. Above her were rickety rope bridges and laundry drying in between crooked windows. The ground was uneven, the cement pitted and cracked. People moved through the narrow spaces with packages balanced on their heads. It was barely wide enough for one person to pass in either direction. So many people spoke or yelled at each other that it blended into a senseless cacophony. The air smelled of human bodies, dirt, smoke, and fuel, cooking food and laundry soap.

She was home. So many memories lay in these close quarters. The tiny room she’d shared with her mother was only a few floors above her and to the right. What did it look like five years later? Who lived there?

It didn’t matter. Her mother was long gone, but the memories hadn’t died with her.

This place was in Clo’s bones.

8.

CLO

Five years ago