“Laura, what are - - - doing?” said Okane. “- - -’re going to leave Zelda’s influence.”
“I’m getting answers.”
She knelt down in front of Lester, grabbed the hood, and yanked it off. At the sight of his face, she recoiled.
Lester had been burned, horribly. His skin was bloody and peeling, shimmering in the depths; this had been done with kin. He’d escaped this last dose of magic, but just as the handlers had said, he’d been injured badly in the last few encounters. As he looked up at her, his scabs pulled loose with a hideous creaking sound.
“Don’t move,” Laura said quickly; she raised her hands, to placate or keep him away, she didn’t know. “Just—Oh my god, what happened?”
“He took a crystal to the face,” said Zelda. “What else could possibly have caused that?”
Lester made a weird sighing sound. Beyond the shaking of his body she could sense the echo of the burn, the continued essence of Clae’s magic. It had become hate with a target now. It still burned, but its tinder wouldn’t last long.
“Laura Kramer?” he rasped. “Of course. I should’ve known you’d go this far. You seemed the type.”
“Stubborn to a fault,” she said dryly. She wanted to rage at him for taking part in this fiasco, but seeing someone this badly hurt made the anger sputter and die before reaching the surface. She felt more tired then vengeful as she asked, “Was it worth making this deal with Rex?”
“Quite obviously, no.”
“Tell me what they wanted. What all the details were. It’s too late for you to survive, but I’m going to make sure Amicae does.”
Lester gave a rueful smile that looked more like a grimace. “So even you can tell that.” He was quiet awhile before asking, “Miss Kramer, do you know the rites of Spiritualists?”
Last rites, he meant. After the Underyear incident, she’d reflected on that. Technically, Mateo had reassured the survivors, salvation could still be achieved for the dead lost to infestations. Spiritualists believed that to reach the Spinner’s paradise one had to be free of any guilty weights. One needed to confess one’s sins. If someone lived honestly and confessed regularly, they’d have no trouble finding their way after death. Laura suspected Lester had kept most things to himself. Listening to a confession was the last thing she wanted to do, but the Rexian deal must be included.
“I’ll listen,” she said.
He was quiet for a long while, but at last he said, “I killed my fellow Sweeper, Eliza. I meant to shoot the infestation, but I hadn’t practiced enough. My aim was off. I hit her. I killed her.”
So Laura had been right.
“I wanted to tell Joseph Blair immediately, but I was afraid. Juliana found us and said she’d take care of it. She … she disposed of Eliza, and I didn’t object. She took credit for everything Eliza had done when she hadn’t even been there, and was hailed as a hero. The praise didn’t belong to her, but I didn’t say anything. I believe in my heart that this first time she genuinely wanted to help me, but that praise was addictive. She wanted glory. She started telling me to do things, threatened to tell the other Sweepers what I’d done if I didn’t follow her orders. I was weak. I was afraid. I didn’t want to face what I’d done, so I followed. I sabotaged other Sweepers’ equipment so she could shine. I delayed them, sometimes forcibly, so she could take credit. She was clever and covered her tracks, but Melody knew something was wrong. She asked me what was going on. She said she’d support me, said she’d protect me, but I was still too ashamed to speak. When Juliana found out, she panicked. She wanted to leave, but she couldn’t stand the idea of being anonymous. She wanted everything. She wanted the top. She wanted to lead the Sweeper city. She told me to delay Joan, so she could steal the interview spot. The only way I could stop Joan was to injure her. Badly. I was afraid I’d killed her too, but I was still too afraid for my own skin. I didn’t call for help. I abandoned her and locked the door behind me. I was so relieved to hear she lived, but it didn’t excuse what I did. Nothing could excuse that.”
He took a long, shuddering breath.
“My following sins were against you and your city. I trespassed. I harassed you. I didn’t question Juliana’s paranoia when she found you were ‘better,’ and never raised a complaint when she tried to be rid of you. I’d resigned myself to the destruction of individuals, but then it grew worse. We began collaborating with a Rexian Sweeper. He approached us for shelter and offered us Rexian ties in exchange. He’d originally wanted help from the mobs, but they framed him for the Falling Infestation.”
Wait. What?
“What do you mean, framed?” Laura said sharply.
She remembered the day well: the bulwark tree cut down, a kingshound painted stark among its leaves. It had unmistakably been Rex’s calling card. And hadn’t the rumor been that the Mad Dogs’ leader refused to work with him?
“The one Sweeper would serve as their distraction,” said Lester. “I don’t know more than that. I don’t know which mob it was, or what their goal could be. But Rexians are strong enough to enter Kuro no Oukoku. Their equipment must be the best. Juliana wanted it. He promised to deliver their kin recipe in exchange for whatever Clae Sinclair left behind. So I broke into the other building. The armory. I never expected people to be there. I never thought that maybe your kin didn’t work because it didn’t want to. I knew I’d made a mistake, but it was too late. They took everything. By letting them in, I doomed Amicae. People I’d carried, but the weight of an entire city … And I began to think, what is a city but a mess of individuals? I would care about a faceless crowd of Elizas, but not the one who’d taught me how to win at Underyear games? A number frightened me more than loss of humanity. I’d closed my heart to other people. I regret. I repent. I didn’t deserve to know Eliza. She didn’t deserve to die. Every time I hid from my actions, not only did I lose myself, but I dishonored her memory. She was strong, and she was proud. For now, at least, I can be like her. I can be like Eliza.”
He met Laura’s eyes and said, “Don’t trust Juliana. She may not be the hands that hurt people, but it was all her intentions. She won’t stop here. She’ll ruin you. Call Puer and tell their intelligence … tell them to go to 6649 West Kallas, in the Third Quarter. Eliza is under the concrete. It’s a body that shouldn’t exist. It’ll be proof enough to raise an investigation. They’ll demand that Juliana come back for questioning. She gets flustered when confronted. She’ll fall apart. It’s just a matter of reaching that stage.”
“Are you sure you can’t make that call?” said Laura. “If we can get you out of here—”
“Don’t throw away what chance you have,” said Lester. “Just leave me a gun. Next time a Rexian pokes his nose in, I’ll give him a surprise. They’ll think thieves are still in here. It might buy you some time.”
Laura wasn’t sure she trusted him with a weapon while they were lifting Clae. Before she could protest or ask the others for advice, Okane opened one of the crates. He dug up a single pistol and pack of bullets. He pressed these into Lester’s hand and said, “I was part of the deal, wasn’t I? That Sweeper wanted to take me back to Rex.”
“He told us you were one of his agents, keeping a low profile,” said Lester. “He said you’d leave with him at the end.”
Zelda sneered. “Clever! So he’d have all the more reason to kidnap his ‘partner,’ and if anything went wrong, he had someone left to take the fall.”
Lester felt at the gun, popped it open and loaded it without so much as a glance down. “Thank you for hearing my confession. You should leave before you need one, too.”
They backed away. As they went, Laura leaned close and whispered, “Why’d you give him a gun so easily? He’s the one who betrayed Amicae in the first place.”
“This way they can’t catch him again,” said Okane. “I’m sure other Magi wish they had the same option.”
“How do we do this?” said Zelda, ignoring their whispering. She kept the cart firmly parked bet
ween her and Clae. “Big angry crystal man probably won’t let us pick him up any easier than he did anyone else.”
“As far as we could tell, he works the same way as Gin,” Laura replied.
After some hesitation, she approached him. She took measured steps, still wary despite her confidence. The air closer to Clae shimmered with heat. She stooped, reached out. She had a moment of hesitation—what if he really didn’t recognize her?—but she shook that away immediately. So what if his kin was so violent? This was the same Clae who’d had faith in her. She’d never doubted him before, and wasn’t about to now. She set her hand on his shoulder. Magic thrummed under the crystal’s surface, warm and alive but so much more potent than the Gin had been. Despite the clear presence of energy, she couldn’t feel any type of connection like the ones Gin so easily made; no tugging at memory, no implied words. On the other hand, there was no magical backlash. Slowly the crystal dimmed, and the hostile feeling tapered away. Clae had calmed. Laura sighed in relief.
“Okane, come here and help me get him on the cart.”
They each took one end, lifting Clae off the ground and onto the boxes. It took a few tries. While not actively attacking them, Clae remained extremely hot. Eventually they had him balanced on top of the boxes, and after only a short time looking, they spotted Anselm in another section of the training room. He proved cooler, easier to carry and wedge between boxes and handlebars. Lester didn’t move or speak as they left.
The guards remained ignorant of the open door as they squeezed back through and rolled off. They moved slowly now so the crystals wouldn’t fall, and Zelda insisted on walking still slower than that.
“Too much magic,” she whispered, observing passersby. “Could be interfering with mine. Besides, people pick up on things moving fast pretty easily.”
Laura would’ve loved to sprint down the halls. Forcing herself to dawdle alongside angry-looking Rexians frayed her nerves. She kept one shaky hand on Clae’s arm to keep him from falling and tried to draw strength from that as they plodded on.
Zelda located an elevator. Thankfully the dolley fit. They leaned against the ammo boxes, trying to take up as little space as possible as the elevator stuttered down its shaft. Trouble met them at the ground floor.
“We get out, we make a break for the garages. They’re outside the building. With any luck, we’ll find a covered car ready to go.” No sooner had Zelda said this than the elevator door opened, revealing a pair of men with a dolly of their own blocking the way.
“We need these uniforms on the third floor,” the first man said, scribbling something on a clipboard. “You’ll run into the quartermaster’s men up there, but the main office—”
“Shit,” Laura whispered. “They think this is an empty elevator, don’t they?”
“Get them out of the way!” Zelda hissed, clambering back over to the handles.
Okane set a foot on the opposing dolly and shoved it away, catching the men in the shins and making them stagger. Another kick, and the cart rolled easily to clear the way. Zelda wrenched the dolly around and Laura hurried to steady it as they tore out as fast as they could. The men behind them started shouting, one about intruders and the other about a ghost.
“Great,” Zelda growled, “now they’ll be looking for us.”
“- - -r magic works on everyone unless they’re specifically looking for - - -?” Okane checked.
“If they’re focusing right, yes,” Zelda seethed. “Glancing around on guard duty is one thing, but actively seeking out a thief is another!”
Several openings yawned in the side of this long room, like open garage doors. They slipped through the nearest exit with no trouble, emerging into open air. Laura had no idea what Quarter this was, but the paved road they ran on was wide and pristine black. More walls jutted up in the distance, peeking over buildings and blocking their view of anything beyond the closest structure. A carport had been erected opposite them, stretching a mile long and sheltering a collection of military vehicles and equipment. A few of the boxy automobiles had their lights on, engines running as supplies were loaded into or unloaded from their covered backs. Laura skimmed over the nearest cars, picking out the one with the least amount of people and pointing.
“That one! No one’s there!”
Neither of the others answered, simply adjusted their course. They skirted dangerously close to another unloading party and had to heave back against the dolly to stop its momentum by the car. Laura clambered up, throwing the canvas flaps aside to peer into the dark trunk. More boxes, no people.
“Clear!”
“Then get them in!” Zelda gestured wildly.
A faint, shrill noise reached them, echoing from the open doors and windows of the Sweeper headquarters. Laura faltered. “What’s that?”
“Alarm! Get moving!”
They scrambled to pick up the crystals. Zelda danced anxiously around them as Laura and Okane hauled first Clae, then Anselm into the truck bed. On the first Gin box, Laura lost her footing on the truck and had to flail to catch herself; Okane hurried to correct the movement and Zelda gasped.
“Don’t drop it! They’re looking, they’re looking!”
Sure enough, the people in the carport had heard the alarm and seemed to have some idea what it was for. They checked around their workstations for anything amiss, faces drawn and eyes flicking back and forth across the wider area. Laura only caught a glimpse of this at first, but at the sound of a loud creak, she paid more attention. Was someone coming toward them from another direction? Again the creaking groan, louder, closer, and she realized the noise came from the box in her arms. She barely had time to exchange a panicked look with Okane before the bottom of the ammunition box broke altogether, and the Gin plummeted to the ground. The impact came as an earsplitting crack. The pavement fractured, but the Gin remained whole and unharmed. Laura stared at it a moment before looking up. The workers looked right at them. Zelda’s magic had been broken. For a full five seconds no one moved, just stared, dumbfounded, and then a man two stations down took off toward the main building, shouting, “They’re here!”
Okane tossed the broken box aside and snatched up the Gin, lobbing it into the trunk.
“Can either of - - - drive?”
“No,” Laura squeaked.
“I can!” said Zelda.
“Start driving!” Crackling noises accompanied the movement as he lifted the second Gin box on his own and shoved it inside.
Zelda dashed to the cab and climbed in. She must’ve tested the gas, because the truck pitched forward a few feet before slamming to a halt again. Laura reeled back into the truck bed at the stop and clambered back up, reaching out to help Okane in.
“No seats, but it’ll do, right?” she laughed breathlessly.
Sweepers poured out of the building, directed by three men in different uniforms who shouted above them. They closed in rapidly, scattering the workers and raising varying weapons. Okane looked at them, then at Laura, eyes wide.
“I can be a distraction,” he rasped.
“What?”
“I can distract them. They want Magi.”
“Are you crazy? We don’t need a distraction! Get your ass in here!”
“If I can get their attention, they’ll be too busy to shoot,” he whispered, and Laura could see he was beginning to really believe it. “I’ve got this. Don’t worry, I’m fast.”
He ran around the truck toward the Sweeper lines, and she leaned out to shout, “So are they! Idiot!”
Okane gestured at the truck cab, and she heard Zelda say something. Cursing, Laura made to climb out. She had one leg over the back door when the truck growled into movement, reversing fast enough to send her tumbling again before hitting the brakes once more. Shouting came from ahead. She heard Okane yelling something, but before she could make another bid for freedom, Zelda hit the gas.
20
VALENS
With a military vehicle going top speed, Laura had no chance of ju
mping out. She had enough trouble avoiding cargo in the truck bed. Clae, Anselm, and the Gin slid at every turn, scraping across the floor and smacking into what boxes were tied down. She tried to steady them at first, but after a few near misses clung to a stack of boxes and gripped the rope, lifting her feet out of the way whenever a loose piece skidded over. As far as she could see the crystals were nigh indestructible: they didn’t gain so much as a scratch during the bumpy ride.
She could see nothing outside during their escape, only a few glimpses of fading daylight through the flapping canvas in the back, but she could tell when the shouting quieted, when the car began to slow. A few bullet holes let in light, but Okane had been enough of a distraction. The Sweepers’ gunfire had been delayed while Zelda drove through the carport. They’d escaped unharmed. Whether Okane had slipped away, she had no idea. The more Laura wondered the worse she felt.
“If he gets caught, this is all your fault,” she growled, kicking halfheartedly at Clae as he slid past.
The crystals rattled to a stop as the truck’s engine cut out. Silence pressed in, bizarre after so long. After a moment’s hesitation, Laura picked her way to the back and pulled the canvas aside. Zelda had parked the truck in an alleyway, cast in shadow by tall buildings on either side. The sound of shoes on pavement grew closer and Zelda walked into sight. She paused, stared at her. Laura looked right back.
“Why did you leave him behind?”
Zelda’s lip curled. “He took the attention, why else? Made it harder to relocate us when my magic kicked back in.”
“That’s the only reason? He could be a prisoner right now, but it won’t matter because it was a little harder to notice a racing truck?”
Zelda folded her arms, eyes narrowing. “Don’t act all high-and-mighty. We all could’ve gotten caught back there.”
“And we all could’ve made it out!”
“There’s no way of knowing that.”
The Monstrous Citadel Page 32