Demontech: Rally Point: 2 (Demontech Book 2) Read Online Free

choices.” Spinner sighed as he looked at the woman who left off whatever she’d been doing and came striding toward them.
    Haft heard the sigh, saw the woman, and shook his head. Alyline, the Golden Girl. She was trouble, but Spinner was so blinded by her beauty he couldn’t see that. Not that Haft would have been unwilling to give her a tumble himself, but . . . No, that woman was trouble; a man should keep his distance if he didn’t want to risk losing important body parts.
    Spinner rose to his feet to greet Alyline; he was unaware of the silly grin he wore. Haft remained seated. He looked relaxed, but was ready to move instantly in any direction if she pulled the gold hilt dagger she wore against her hip. She wore the gray silk cloak over her shoulders, but the day was warm enough that it hung open, revealing the patchwork garments she wore under it. They were patterned on her traditional golden garb, that of a Djerwolh dancer from the mountains of Arpalonia—a short vest that didn’t quite close between her breasts and pantaloons that hugged her hips but ballooned out over her legs.
    “We will rest here for another day, then head south,” Alyline said without bothering to greet the two Marines.
    “That’s right, we’re going south,” Spinner agreed. “We move out at dawn.”
    “I said we rest for a day,” she snapped back.
    “But we can’t, every day we wait the Jokapcul get closer.”
    “The children are tired. They have to rest. One of the women has an injured foot. We stay here for a day.”
    “They can ride, we have enough horses.”
    Alyline shook her head. Her golden hair swung out like a sun-washed cloud above her shoulders—though Haft might have sourly described it as an avalanche of yellow snow.
    “You’re not listening to me,” she said sharply. “We stay here for a day. Tired and injured people need to rest.”
    Haft surreptitiously increased his distance from her.
    “But—”
    “No buts!” Her voice suddenly softened and she stepped close to him, raised one hand to finger the merman clasp that secured his cloak at the throat. “You like me don’t you, Spinner?” She gazed up into his eyes.
    There was nothing subtle about the way Haft scooted farther away.
    “You know I do,” Spinner whispered huskily.
    “Then we are going to rest a day.”
    “But . . .”
    Her fingers wrapped around the merman clasp and yanked down hard. “I said we’re going to rest and that’s that!” she snarled. Her fingers flipped free of the clasp and she jabbed them into the base of his throat hard enough for the nails to leave marks. “One day!” She spun about and strode away.
    “But—But—” Spinner turned to Haft, confusion and pain on his face. “What did I say wrong? Why is she mad at me?”
    Haft turned away from him without a word; he looked like he wanted to spit in disgust.
    The next day they rested.
     
    Midwinter’s day passed, but the deadliest part of winter didn’t descend on them as harshly as it would have had they continued north. Instead, the days grew milder as they lengthened. Days and weeks passed during the southward trek, but they saw no troops of the invader. They saw signs of Jokapcul passage, though—burnt-out farms and wrecked, depopulated villages. Except to forage for food and usable goods that might have been left behind by the conquerors, they never stopped to investigate the farms and villages; no one needed to see mutilated corpses to know the ferocity of the foe, least of all Spinner, Haft, and the others of the original group, who’d encountered numerous sites of Jokapcul victory. The farther south they went, the more game they found, and ripe fruits and other edible vegetation also became available. They took the few bees that buzzed about them as a sign of a rapidly approaching spring.
    The Eastern Waste gradually drifted eastward and they followed its drift. The closer they were to it, they thought, the less likely they were to encounter Jokapcul.