by Ann Denton
“I love getting under your skin. In more ways than one. Sadly. Not the best way. Yet.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“Well, that’s just a few days earlier than I planned on dying, so go ahead.” Ein swooped down and picked her up.
“Stop!” Mala smacked his shoulder but he didn’t release her as he whirled her around the deck. “You’re crazy!”
“About you,” he whispered.
Mala immediately stilled in his arms. He didn’t say that. He didn’t just say that. What am I supposed to say?
“Ba-ha! Gotcha!” Ein dropped her on her butt. And he laughed so hard he snorted.
“I’m glad you were joking because there would be no easy way to let you down.”
“No?”
Mala shook her head. “I don’t know any nice way to say ‘You’re a pompous jerk-face who ruins my day every time I see you.’”
Ein came to crouch next to her. He put a hand on her shoulder and slowly slid it toward her neck. He gave the tiniest squeeze.
“Really?” His voice was harsh.
Immediately Mala’s heart sped up. Her breathing quickened. She wasn’t sure if he was serious or joking, if she should try to snap his wrist or just let it go. She tried to read his eyes.
They looked like pools of chocolate in the dark. He glanced at her lips, then back up.
“Lowe’s wrong, you know,” he whispered.
“About?” Mala tried to ignore the hand.
“Intentions do matter.” Ein kissed her then, a soft brush of the lips, before making eye contact.
Mala melted immediately, and immediately knew she had no control. The melt was lightning fast. She felt her bones crack and shrink. She saw her hair go flat. Instead of looking at her new body, she stared straight at Ein, horrified. “What the hell just happened?” Her voice was high-pitched and whiny. Panic swirled. “Did you meet a girl? Are we broken? Is this broken? Am I gonna be able to melt into Keptiker?”
Ein stroked her arm. “Relax.” He kissed her again, this time furiously. His hand clenched around her neck. Angrily. Hotly. He opened his eyes and they were blazing. Mala felt the familiar heat rise up. She chose to melt into Tier.
“What the mudding heck are you trying to do to me? If I could, I’d have you hanged.” Fury boiled her stomach. If I could kill him I would. I really would.
“Fortunately for me, you’re an impotent old Ancient who’s about to be forcibly retired,” Ein reclined his elbows on the deck, unworried.
Mala strode over to the side of the boat and stuck her hand into the spray. She melted back and righted her clothes. She took a deep breath to calm herself. “Alright. Explain.”
“Instead of thinking about you, I started bringing up memories of the first girl I kissed. A little young—eleven. Body didn’t really suit you. She was a sweet, giggly thing. Unlike you.”
“But I thought … when Lowe kissed me, I turned into the girl he first kissed. How are you an exception?”
“You thought I’d never been kissed?”
Mala didn’t know how to answer without insulting him. And she really wanted him to keep talking.
“When you melt, you tap into other people’s basic drives. Their desires. The desire they’re feeling at that moment. You melt into whomever is associated with intense emotions for them. But … what if you roam into uncharted territory?”
He stared at her while she struggled to catch up. “Unique experiences?” she asked. “Like what? Like you feel something new? Something different …” she trailed off. Please don’t say love. Don’t say love.
“Exactly.” Ein crossed his hands behind his neck and laid back on the deck, gazing up at the stars.
His failure to answer sent Mala into further panic. She didn’t want to hear the words, but she couldn’t help herself. It was almost as if leaving it unspoken was worse. Her heart did a tap-dance. She couldn’t hear her voice over its frantic patter. But she asked anyway. “Like?”
“Like the fact that I want to punch you and screw you in the same moment,” Ein responded.
Insults. I can handle that. “Oh, is that why I can taste a little vomit with each kiss?”
She couldn’t see it, but she could hear his grin in his voice. “Exactly. But, as you can see, when I concentrate really hard on another emotion, I can bring up that one instead: intention. It’s all about the hypothesis. Nobody can control how everything turns out. Not all the time, anyway.”
“But why do I always melt into Stelle when Lowe kisses me?” Mala didn’t mean to say it out loud. But it slipped out and hung in the shadows.
“Well. It could be the whole repression thing. I imagine it’s not easy. Trying not to feel things so you don’t meltdown and blow your cover. That might be the one emotion he remembers well. Or …”
Even Ein wasn’t heartless enough to say it. But the words flitted through Mala’s head anyway. Or maybe he’s still in love with her.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Wilde was a port town. Or the disemboweled remains of one. Mala peered through Ein’s binoculars to see a line of boats edging the shore, their reflections like finger smudges on the water. Behind the boats was a huge mass of rusting shipping containers. They were piled on one another like a mountain of blocks. That was where the Erlenders lived.
Blue noses scurried busily, stacking boxes and yelling orders. Kids swung from the roof of one container to jump to the one below like primates. Mala could see the dingy pallets and open fire pits littering the narrow patios created by the haphazard stack of shipping containers. Almost everyone wore animal hides instead of clothes. Clothes were a luxury, the sign of a good raid. And despite the massacre of Bara’s guard, Wilde did not look like it was doing well on the raiding front. Two squabbles over food broke out before Ein snatched his binoculars back.
“Hey, I wasn’t done looking!” she griped.
“Your slimy nose is coating my equipment,” he chirped.
Mala gave Ein the evil eye. He grinned. Ein acted like he didn’t care that Lowe had left them waiting across the river in a pile of dead brush while he went into Wilde to secure Keptiker by himself, using Neid as bait.
“No offense,” Lowe had said to Ein, “But the fewer of us, the easier it’ll be.”
When Mala had begun to protest, Ein had sided with Lowe. “It’s not like you have real field experience, anyway. You’re more likely to meltdown at some kid crying than anything.”
Mala had kicked him for that. She longed to kick Ein now. Even with the rift between her and Lowe, even with the silence she’d had to endure as she’d trained the last few days, she didn’t want him to get hurt. She didn’t like him going off without her.
He doesn’t want you there, a snide little voice in her head said. He hasn’t so much as looked at you since the fight.
Mala had been training with Ein and Neid, working to avoid meltdowns, to remain commanding, manly, to speak with an Erlender accent, to remember the layout of Troe’s compound. Lowe hadn’t stepped in once. He’d taken over as captain, steering the boat, breaking only to sleep. He hadn’t spoken to any of them until he’d called them over to explain his plan. Even then, he’d carefully looked only at Neid and Ein.
“Wilde’s a cramped little maze on the port. If Keptiker slips through my fingers, it will be easy for him to get away, easy for all of us to get caught. The fewer, the better.”
At this point, Mala had grown resigned to his indifference. It hadn’t stopped hurting, but she had begun to cling to the tiny hope Neid had given her. Maybe one day he’ll get past this. Get past his anger. Get past his first love. But he had to live long enough to get over anything. Which is why her heart churned in fear as she waited.
Ein gasped and Mala wrenched the binoculars out of his hands. “Where is he?”
“I can’t believe they do that! It’s disgusting!”
“Do what?” Mala asked.
“They’re relieving themselves in the river. Who is in charge of sanita
tion here? This is why I insisted we boil the water last night.”
Mala shoved the binoculars back into Ein’s stomach. It’s been three mudding hours. “I’m going for a walk.”
Ein stood up. “We’re supposed to wait.”
“I just need … to pee,” she lied. She just needed to do something. Anything. She’d never sat on her hands this long in her entire life. Even just walking and scouring the path for medicinal seeds, a chore she’d reviled when her mom was alive, sounded better than another hour with Ein.
“Don’t pee in the river, pea-brain,” Ein called, busying himself with the binoculars.
“Got it,” she responded. Mala waded through dead brush. She spotted some moss at the base of an oak and bent to see if it had survived the winter. A twig cracked. She froze. Ein, I'm gonna kill you. Or at least scare the shit out of you. She slipped her revolver out of its holster.
She could hear someone stumbling through the underbrush. Chains clinked together. Mala tensed. That's not Ein. Lowe? She stood, gun at the ready. She froze. She blinked. No! It can't be! But it was. Mala cocked the gun. A woman stumbled at Mala’s feet.
"Hey, Verrat. Running from your conscience?"
Verrat froze. Fear scarred her face, pooled in her violet eyes. Chains hung from her wrists. She'd clearly broken herself out of a cell.
There was a startled beat. Then Verrat snarled and jumped at Mala.
The gun went off before Mala fully registered it. Verrat fell sideways, clutching her thigh. Mala took a step back and trained the gun on her once more.
A second later, Ein smashed into the clearing. "Mala, what the muck does it take for your microscopic intel—oh!" He backed away from Verrat at Mala's signal.
"Verrat, Ein. Ein, Verrat. This is the woman that was working with Blut. She sold my guard to the Erlenders."
Verrat looked up. Indignation replaced pain. "I saved you. Blut would have given you to—"
Mala stared down at her. "Don't lie. You were supposed to mark me and you botched it. So you thought you could pawn that necklace off on Sari ..." The anger swirled. It howled between her ears. You stole my mother. She kicked Verrat's ribs.
Verrat grunted but didn't respond.
"Why?"
Verrat just curled into a fetal position.
A tornado raged through Mala's head. Reason blew away. She kicked and kicked and kicked again. Ein dragged Mala back.
"Okay, I hate to interrupt the revenge scenario that's about to play out here but ... We should move. They can't pinpoint the gunshot yet but I bet they’re scrambling to try. Take her or leave her?"
"Take her."
"Fine. But rein it in."
"She killed my mom!"
"Time. And place. Not now. Not here."
Mala took a deep breath. Another. Her anger still swirled, but she held onto the calm in the midst of the storm. "Can you carry her?"
Ein nodded. He scooped up the once pristine warrior. She was barely more than a husk.
Verrat groaned in pain.
Mala smiled. "Don't worry. I'll patch up your leg. When I kill you, it won't be as easy as that."
Verrat turned her head. Her violet eyes flashed. "You won't kill me, Mala. Keptiker will. She's seen it."
"Who?"
But Verrat just smiled. She looped her arms around Ein’s neck and said, “Where are we going, handsome?”
Mala seethed.
Ein laughed. “I hope all our hostages are as compliant—”
“Ein!” Before Mala could bark at him, another voice hissed.
He’s safe! Mala’s heart jumped.
“Get the hell out of here now!” Lowe’s voice was quiet, but furious. “You idiots are gonna get us killed before we even get to the compound. Inland! We gotta put him outta sight. Now.” He turned. A limp form sagged over his shoulder. Lowe began marching inland.
Verrat was the first to speak. “Is that Keptiker?” Her face went white, and she began to struggle in Ein’s arms. “No! No!”
Mala reached up to help. She wrapped an arm around Verrat’s neck, and applied pressure to her carotid artery. Ein did his best to hold her, but Verrat was a trained soldier. Her leg swung around and caught Mala’s side. She reached and wrenched at Ein’s hair. A jab to the neck and he collapsed. Mala threw herself at the woman.
“No!” Mala pulled Verrat back, spurred by adrenaline. They fell to the ground, Mala atop Verrat. Mala tried to pin the woman down, but Verrat was bigger. The older woman quickly flipped Mala onto her back and scrambled on top of her.
“Don’t,” Mala gasped. But then Verrat’s hands were at her throat, a wild gleam in the other woman’s eyes.
“He wants you,” Verrat muttered. “But he’ll kill me. He. Will. Kill Me.” Mala’s struggles were growing more and more futile. Her eyelids flickered.
But that’s when she felt it. A spark. Mala threw herself into the flame, forced her eyes open. She forced herself to stare at Verrat. The flames ate at her. And a vision suddenly replaced reality.
She saw a figure in a cloak standing before a canvas. The figure held a paintbrush and flicked it, splattering red paint onto the pale trunk of a tree.
Mala melted. She emerged, fierce, muscled. Male. She threw Verrat off her. The woman’s eyes widened. Verrat began to shake. A solitary tear streaked down her cheek.
Mala retrieved her gun.
The gore that exploded from Verrat’s head spattered the tree behind her. It looked exactly like the painting. The violet eyes stilled. Verrat’s lifeless body fell to the ground.
“Muck!” The exact replica of a scene she’d just envisioned unnerved Mala. Goosebumps crept up her arms. She looked down at them. Huge and muscled. But familiar. Keptiker’s arms. She had melted into Keptiker.
Verrat had said Keptiker would kill her. She had panicked when Lowe had walked up with him, Keptiker, slung across his back. Verrat had believed Keptiker would kill her. Mala had thought it was simply because Verrat had betrayed him, because she’d escaped. What was it she said? “She’s seen it.” A woman. Who? Someone was painting this tree. A blood-spattered tree. Just a coincidence. It’s a tree. Maybe they were painting falling leaves. It’s just … not possible.
Mala’s mind flashed back to Lowe’s scornful words when she’d first thought becoming Kreis was magic.
“Erlenders believe in that junk ... magic and fortune-telling. That's not real. It's a bunch of fairy dust and lies strung together for idiots.”
Mala wanted to believe that. Part of her wished she did. But another little part of her whispered, There’s someone out there painting things. Things like this. How Verrat would die. Her mind flashed to all of the paintings that Ges had been categorizing. All of those landscapes. Battles. But plenty of empty scenes, too. What if they weren’t just landscapes? What if they weren’t just maps? What if they were predictions? Mala’s stomach dropped. She didn’t want to think it, but the thought whispered through her head anyway. Someone’s painting the future. And getting it right.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Mala marched into Wilde, all swagger and dark confidence. She ignored the Erlender soldiers who moved aside as she swept past. She ignored the kids with distended bellies. She ignored her own desire to kill every Wilde soldier she saw in retribution for her mother. She kept her face forward.
Stay on mission. Remember: Keptiker’s cold. Brutal. Lowe had made her repeat that all afternoon. He’d made her nearly hoarse, standing over the real Keptiker’s body as she recited the plan. Leave early for Troe’s compound. Leave at night. Keep everyone exhausted and guessing so they don’t notice if I do anything unusual. Un-Keptiker. She’d recited it as she, Lowe, and Ein had taken turns kicking Keptiker in the face, hoping that some extreme swelling and a broken nose would hide his identity when he came to. Since they couldn’t kill him if Mala was melting into him, they had to do what they could. They’d tied Keptiker’s drugged and beaten body to a tree, and covered him in brush.
Mala had felt weak when she
suggested they leave Keptiker a water jug. Starvation seemed like a cruel way to go. If no one comes out this far to find him. She couldn’t think of her mother, but it seemed that the instinct to heal sometimes overpowered Mala, particularly when it shouldn’t.
She’d been surprised when Lowe had agreed. “It might keep him alive a couple extra days, in case things go sideways on us. We might need the extra time.” Mala wasn’t sure why, but his answer had disappointed her.
As she strode through the Wilde complex, Mala hoped her cold attitude effectively distracted from Ein’s shaking. For all that he stood tall and looked dismissive, his hands were a dead giveaway. She hoped no one would notice. Lowe, a lively six-year-old, kept up a constant chatter with soldiers, providing an effective diversion as their boots echoed through the hallways made of shipping containers. Lowe used his hands to subtly point and guide Mala through the maze of tunnels, until she came to a back room and desk that was Keptiker’s office.
It was a dark room, lit only by natural light from a rough cutout in the wall. Wilde was too poor a compound to have candles. The desk held a rusted walkie and a few scraps of paper. Neid was chained to the floor in a spot Verrat had once occupied. Keptiker’s chair was a wilting hunk of metal. Only the arsenal behind it was impressive: rack upon rack of weapons on the wall. Boxes of ammo on the floor. It all spoke of the Wilde’s reputation as raiders. Of Keptiker’s reputation as a ruthless killer.
It reminded Mala of her purpose.
“Change a’ plans,” Mala barked at a pair of soldiers who had slipped into the room behind her. The skeletal boy jumped at her words while the wizened old soldier merely grunted and leaned back against the wall, casually awaiting orders.
Mala leaned over the desk, grateful for the practice she had put in with Ges. She fastened her eyes on the kid’s forehead, avoiding his direct gaze. “Heard summ’in dirty’s in the water. Someone’s been spreadin’ lies ‘bout us. Gonna head out ta Troe’s tonight insteada’ tomorra. Git everyone together now. Change out halfa’ the group. New faces. Wanna smoke out or spook whoever’s been flappin’ lips. You git three hours. That’s it. And I want dis new blondie on there for Troe.” Mala jerked her head toward Neid, who rattled the chains in protest. “Keep’er clean. He don’ want sloppy seconds. Oh—and these idgits from Stur township are comin’ too.” She gestured lazily at Lowe and Ein.