This close, his loyalty brand stood out strong, pale ropy scars against brown skin. Three across, three down. UPF, through and through. Spikes pierced his lower lip. Three in a row, gleaming. Mahlia wasn’t sure if they were for decoration, or if they were some other official thing that the Colonel did to his recruits.

“Was that me?” he asked again, but before she could answer, he straightened, surprised.

“Check out her eyes!” he called. “Got us a collaborator, here! Pretty little peacekeeper girl.” Mahlia tried to bolt again, but he yanked her back and pulled her into a tight embrace, twisting her arm so hard it almost dislocated.

“Not so fast,” he whispered in her ear. His voice had gone cold, dripping with new menace. Before, she’d been a toy to him; now she was something less. “I got plans for you, castoff.”

Castoff. His words ran through the rest of the soldier boys like an electric current. Peacekeeper. Castoff. Mahlia knew how this would go. First there would be screaming and then there would be blood and then at the end, if she was lucky, she would be dead.

She fumbled for her knife, but with her good hand twisted behind her back, it was pointless. Seeming to sense her intention, the soldier pulled out her knife. Brought it up to her neck.

“What you doing here, collaborator?”

Mahlia felt sick. Already, a part of her mind was preparing for what was about to happen. It was going to be just like when the Army of God got hold of her. Different army, same story. They were all the same, in the end.

“What’s a peacekeeper girl doing way out here?” he asked. “This town protecting you?” Mahlia didn’t answer. She struggled to twist loose, but the soldier was bigger and stronger. “Why don’t you answer? Huh? Someone get your tongue? Or you just stubborn?” A pause then. “Castoff think she’s too good to talk to us?” The knife came up to her cheek, touched her lips. “Here. Lemme get that tongue out.”

With a wrench of panic, Mahlia almost tore free.

“Hold her, boys!”

Hands seized her, pinning her arms, gripping her head, forcing her to stare at the soldier who loomed over her. Dirty fingers forced her mouth open. Mahlia tried to bite them.

“Wooo!” the soldier shouted gleefully. “Castoff’s got some spirit!” But he didn’t let up. He pinched her cheeks until her mouth opened. Slid the blade inside. Mahlia tasted steel against her teeth.

“Didn’t know there were collaborators hiding out here,” the soldier said. “Thought we cleaned you all out.”

“Lay off her, Soa.”

At the new voice, the soldier glanced over his shoulder.

“Just getting answers, Lieutenant.”

A new shadow rose out of the darkness. Angular, hollow-cheeked. Tall and skeletal. Pale as death. A pink scar split the man’s nose, ragged. Gray eyes and wide pupils.

“What answers are you getting?”