Page 442 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

‘He’s covered in something.’

‘Is it toxic?’

‘Can’t be. Smells too good.’

‘Get him behind the perimeter.’

‘I feel dizzy.’

‘Shit, it must be toxic. Drag him by the clothes.’

They pull him roughly across the ground while he tries to stay curled up, but when his jacket comes off and his pant legs split, they get angry and haul him up by the arms.

‘Fucking things. I hate ops like this.’

Riley opens his eyes and sees through a red haze that he’s behind the circle they drew around the Tower. He’s in enemy territory.

More men come close to see him.

‘What is that smell?’

‘Is that him?’

‘Stay back. We’re dosing him.’

‘You’re in our sector, let us do it.’

‘The black shirts told us to do it. Back the fuck off.’

‘You dragged him here. He’s ours to deal with.’

‘Fuck you.’

‘You wouldn’t know what to do with him anyway.’

‘Oh, and you would?’

‘Both of you back off,’ a new voice commands. ‘Contra-human handling falls under our authority.’

Riley can hear at least a hundred heartbeats. He can smell overripe desire and itchy need in the blood that eats away at reason like acid.

The four PMCs are arguing over who has jurisdiction over him.

The few men who touched him are pulling him back.

‘Hey! Keep him there and bind him for now. Harker is a huge threat—’

‘We just need to dose him and take him. He’s co-operating, see.’

Someone pets his hair.

‘The fuck is wrong with you?’

‘He’s coming with us.’

‘No he is not. He’s—’

The voice is silenced by a punch.