The Condemned by Claire Jolliff Page A

staggering towards her, arms thrust outwards as though he were reaching for her in some sick parody of a lover’s embrace. Ducking beneath his charred limbs, she swung the bulky glove up and pulled it over one of his hands. It reached up to his shoulder and she patted the material down against his skin, damping the flames and putting them out.
       She quickly pulled off the glove and repeated the manoeuvre on his other arm. She wasn’t tall enough to reach up and tug the hood down over his head to douse the flames around his shoulders and neck and so she tossed the article to him. He tried to catch it, managed to get a grip briefly, but then it fell to the floor with a wet sound.
       Alecia glanced down and frowned.
       The hood was on the floor but beside it was a strange black glove...
    Realisation dawned and she curled her upper lip in disgust. The skin of his hand had slid away from the muscle and bone, when he had caught the hood the charred flesh had fallen away like a mitten. The arm of the suit still covered the other hand but she knew it couldn’t be in any better condition. Beriael seemed unable to feel the pain anymore and had fallen silent, which she was thankful for, though she was acutely aware that they were taking far too long. Should’ve been out of here by now.
    As escapes from prison went, this was her first one, she didn’t have a guidebook, wouldn’t have been able to read it if she had. She was acting on instinct and adrenaline and praying that the combination would be enough.
       They had a key, if they were careful they may be able to get through the entire prison and to whatever freedom lay beyond the walls.
       Ok, so she knew she was kidding herself. A naked woman and a char grilled man wandering through the prison were not apt to go unseen for long.
       The Clone had patted out the remaining flames using his gloved hand and she met his gaze as he stood watching her. She knew the look in his eyes. He was trying to decide whether to kill her now or wait to see if she could be any use getting him outside, then do it. She held up the key card so that he could see and watched as he nodded slowly and then turned.
       ‘Let’s get the fuck out of this place.’
       ‘You’re hurt.’
    He turned back to look at her, curiously, as though she were some interesting bug caught under a little kid’s microscope.
       ‘What are you, some kind of fucking genius?’ He sneered.
    Leci bit her lip and held back the snappy reply, offering help instead.
       ‘I mean, you’re hurt... I can... If you want I mean, I can, you know, help you get better again?’ Her words were uncertain and though she had meant it to come out as an offer she knew it sounded more like a question, as though she were asking his permission rather than making a useful suggestion.
       Beriael knew immediately what she meant. She could finish the job, burn him some more, kill him and get rid of this damaged, useless body, let him regenerate a new one.
    He lunged for her and she instinctively backed away, her hands raised defensively in front of her, he caught himself before he reached her but the look in his eyes scared her.
       ‘You fucking touch me and the second I’m back I’ll rip your heart out and shove it down your throat you nasty little fire-starting bitch.’ He snarled, holding her gaze for another second before turning away again.
       Leci blinked, shocked at the ferocity of his outburst but not really surprised by it. After what he’d been through at her hands it made sense he’d rather stay injured than endure another second of what she could mete out. She let it drop. If he was happier this way then that was his choice.
       Though she had no desire to argue with him or provoke him further, there was one thing she wanted to do before they left. Let him protest if he wanted, she had the key, he wasn’t going anywhere without it and so help her, if she had to set him on fire again to keep