Raff was dead.
Very, very dead.
Rand Farrar shuddered at the sight of his second’s charred and mutilated body. Harel Larg hadn’t been bluffing about setting bounty hunters after them. This one had even signed his work. Or rather signed the note thermoplated in place of Raff’s cock and balls “Three days and you’re next, Farrar. “ And the name below set chills in Rand’s soul: Bryn Gorlan one of the most ruthless hunters in the galaxy and reputed to always earn his, quite colossal, fees.
Did “three days” mean after three days’ time or sometime between now and three days into the future or was it… Time stop this mental warbling. He needed to scarper, flee, run, hide.
Get focussed. Flying his ship singlehanded was possible. Just about. But first, he had his second’s corpse to take care of. He owed Raff. A call to the cadaver wagon and a fast payment for cremation and transport back to Raff’s home on Saturnia took care of that but it ate up several precious hours and where in the galaxy could he hide from the likes of Gorlan?
He needed superhuman powers to manage that.
Or a superhuman bodyguard.
He’d heard vampires hired themselves out to the desperate. But was he that desperate?