Rebel of Scars and Ruin (The Evolved Book 1)

by Veronica Sommers

  It's the most dismal place I've ever seen—worse than the place where the Fray kept me, because at least there were people and useful things in that building. In this wreck, there's only rubble, and dirt, and rotting pieces of furniture, and the shifting and scrabbling of vermin in the walls and along the cracks in the floor.

  "She lives here?" I ask.

  "I've seen worse," Rak answers.

  As we pass one of the rooms, I see eyes, whites gleaming around dark pupils. A pair of ragged children squat on a threadbare blanket, watching us. I hesitate, but Rak takes my elbow and moves me past the doorway. "Stay on mission," he whispers.

  At the end of the hallway, a set of rickety stairs ascends into the gloom. The second floor has four rooms, all with doors intact. Rak stops at a door with an odd symbol scrawled in dark paint—maybe a number in the Emsali script. A digi-lock secures the room, so Rak enters the second access code, and the two halves of the lock separate and retract.

  Why is Safi is trusting us, three strangers, with the code to her space? What's to stop us from stealing all her possessions and leaving?

  But the second I step into her room, I realize that there isn't much here to steal. A thin pallet and a blanket. A bent clothing rack with a few shirts and a pair of shorts. A large bowl, cracked at the rim, with a couple jugs of purified water beside it. A rag draped over the edge of the bowl, probably for washing. A decrepit set of shelves with a few cans and tins of food on the upper ledge, and a plate, knife, fork, and cooking pot on the lower one. A solar-charged, single-burner cooking unit sits on the floor nearby. In the window, a rusty cooling system jitters and jolts, pumping stale, tepid air into the room.

  Safi wasn't exaggerating when she said she had no money to get out of Ankerja.

  Alik sets his bag on the floor and slumps beside it. "Well, this is a step down from the inn, for sure."

  "Be thankful you have somewhere to hide," I tell him. "I doubt any bounty hunters or factions will find us here." I glance at Rak as I say it, but he looks away, avoiding my eyes. "What, Rak? What's wrong?"

  "In a town like this, nothing is a secret. At least a dozen people saw us come down this street, and then there are the two children downstairs. They'll tell where we are in a heartbeat if someone offers them a finance card, or a hot meal."

  "So we're not safe."

  "Safer, yes—but safe? No." He steps to the window. Moving the bent slats covering the glass above the cooling unit, he peers out into the street. "I haven't felt safe in years."

  Alik produces a flask from somewhere in his bag, and he raises it to Rak. "Same here. Safety is for the dead. Peril is for the living." He drinks and exhales dramatically, then holds the flask out to me.

  When I reach for it, he looks surprised, as if he expected me to refuse. I take a big gulp and swallow, pretending not to care how the liquid scalds my throat tissues on the way down. After the week I've had, I deserve to soften the edges of reality for a while.

  I pass the flask to Rak, who takes a swig as well. All we can do now is wait for Safi's shift to be over.

  Alik leans back, hands behind his head, stretching out his long legs. I sit near the pallet, and Rak stands by the window.

  "So, the two of you. What's your story?" Alik asks. "You, Rak, you're her bodyguard? Friend? Unwilling ally?"

  "He's one of the Fray rebels who took me hostage," I say.

  Rak gives me an exasperated look.

  "If Alik is going to be with us, he needs to know these things," I tell him.

  Alik whistles. "You're a Fray deserter?"

  "No!" Rak snaps.

  "But you left your company. You took your faction's prisoner and helped her escape. Sounds like desertion to me."

  Is he trying to make Rak angry? If he is, it's working. Rak's hands clench into fists, his frown weighing down his handsome face.

  "It's complicated," I say quickly. "We're working it out." Rising, I move over to Rak, blocking Alik from his view. I slide my hand over one of his fists, placing my fingers in the hollows between his knuckles. "Rak, come sit down."

  He doesn't move. Whatever battle is raging inside him, it has him paralyzed with anger, fear, maybe indecision—and it's the indecision that scares me. He could still turn on me.

  "Rak, come on. Please." I worm my fingers into his curled fist and loosen his grip. He looks up at me, and I smile; but my heart sinks with the knowledge that I'm manipulating him. He's attracted to me, and I'm using that. When did I become my mother?

  But if I'm attracted to him too, is it really manipulation?

  He lets me lead him to a spot against the wall, near Safi's pallet bed, and we sit side by side.

  "What about you?" I ask Alik, mostly to distract him from staring and smirking at us. "What did you steal from this warlord, this Akej Orunei?"

  A devilish smile widens on Alik's face, and his eyes gleam. "Best thing I've ever lifted," he says. "But I can't tell you about it."

  "Why not? Wait a second—are you still carrying it?"

  "No! Of course not. It's been safely delivered to the buyer."

  "Then why can't you tell us?"

  He cocks his head, eyes flitting from me to Rak and back again. "If I tell you, you have to keep it a secret. You can't tell anyone that it exists at all."

  I lean forward, eager. "I promise."

  Rak doesn't answer, so I kick him.

  "I'll keep your secret," he says. "Not that it's worth knowing."

  "Have you heard of suppressor technology? It's supposedly top-secret, but it's widespread in the first-tier countries like Ceanna. Usually it involves a tiny add-on chip in a person's skull-port implant. Limits an Evolved's powers."

  I stiffen. "I've heard of it."

  "The tech I stole from Akej Orunei does the opposite. It boosts an Evolved human's abilities. Basically they go from mediocre to insanely powerful. Akej himself is Evolved, and he hired a team to make the enhancement for him. And I stole it."

  "Death's Dark, Alik!" Rak swears. "He's going to kill you."

  "Oh, no, he's not going to kill me. He's going to hang me by my thumbs, peel off my skin in strips, and suck out my entrails."

  "Ew." I make a face.

  "You think I'm exaggerating? That's what he did to the last man who stole from him."

  "What did you get paid for this extraordinary feat?" I ask. "It must have been an astronomical amount. In which case you don't need us. You should be able to hire all the security and bodyguards you need to get out of the country." I watch him carefully. I may not have Safi's abilities, but I've been around plenty of liars. Politicians and university boys, mostly.

  Alik shifts, tracing the strap of his bag with his pale fingers. "I can't access the reward yet. The money is waiting for me in a special account. That's why I need to get to Carrasen, or Ceanna, or anywhere safe with a solid global banking system."

  It's plausible. Rak seems to buy it. So why do I feel like Alik is keeping secrets?

  Why should I care if he is? He probably has a hundred secrets, and none of them involve me. The only thing that should concern me is getting out of Emsalis alive and intact.

  When I look over at Rak again, he has his head tipped back and his eyes closed. I should sleep too—we had a disruptive night.

  "Babes' blood, this is dull," says Alik.

  "Sleep," I say. "Or watch a vid. You have a skull-port, don't you?"

  He taps a spot behind his ear. "I have it disabled. Don't want anyone tracking me, remember?"

  "Right. The Fray ripped mine out of my head to keep my father from finding me."

  He looks startled. "That must have been agony."

  "It was."

  "Are you—is your head all right?"

  "There's a nano-patch in place, and thankfully it seems to be sealed tight." I move my hair so he can see the small square patch. "I'll be lucky if I make it back home without getting sand in my brain, though. And I'll have to get the hole permanently filled and sealed."

  "Why would you
want it filled? Don't you want a re-install?"

  I don't want to tell him about my ability yet, or about the suppressor. "I'm wary of the technology now, I guess."

  "I suppose being kidnapped in a foreign country would make anyone a bit nervous—about everything." His tone is sympathetic, but his eyes are calculating, with none of the warmth they should have. "You go through something like this, and you become suspicious of everyone. It's hard to trust."

  That tone, those eyes of his remind me of my ex, Gareth—the one who played my emotions so skillfully, like an instrument's strings. Alik is right—I have a hard time trusting people, but it isn't only because of this Emsalis mess. My trust issues began long ago, with my parents; and then Gareth spiked them to fever pitch.

  Gareth, with his wit and intelligence, his sharply beautiful face, his white-blond hair, and those amber eyes. He won me, and he wrecked me. The consummate pretender, the clever collector, and mine was just another heart tucked into the boxes lining his shelf.

  How many hearts has he broken in the months since I cut the cord between us?

  It was a single conversation that ruined it all. A few sentences exchanged between him and his best friend, phrases that I overheard. A slipup in his carefully constructed plan to marry me and become Magnate himself one day. He was furious when I told him that I heard, that I knew he cared for nothing but his own future. His eyes froze with cold anger, disappointment in himself for not being more careful. No emotion spared for me, for my shredded soul.

  I push Gareth, and his beautiful face, and his cruel words, out of my mind, and I move closer to Rak, until my shoulder brushes his. He's perfectly still, eyes shut, maybe asleep. Alik, sensing that our conversation is over, has pulled a small book from his bag—not a device, but an actual book, with paper pages and everything. He's engrossed in it.

  And so I lean my head against the wall and I close my eyes.

  I startle awake when the lock on the door clicks open. Sitting up, disoriented, I realize that I was sleeping with my head on Rak's shoulder—and I was drooling. I wipe away the wetness at the corner of my mouth and push aside the mortification. He's seen me with pissed-in pants; a little drool is nothing to be embarrassed about.

  Safi strides in, all long legs and ridiculously perfect pouty lips. She has a bulky pack slung over one shoulder. I don't remember seeing it at the inn—maybe she had it stowed under the desk. That must be where she carries anything she owns that's of true value, like the communicator.

  "Lazy lumps," she says, kicking Alik's boot. "How do you like my palace?"

  "Love the ambiance, darling," Alik drawls. "And especially your fantastic guard dog."

  "Oh, you met Deathspawn." Safi smiles wider. "Forgot to warn you about him."

  "Lie," I say. "You wanted to see if we could handle him."

  Her eyes snap to mine. "Right on, little Princess. You're quick."

  "I told you not to call me 'princess.' "

  "Princess," says Alik. "I like it."

  I groan. "I hate it."

  "Say that again," says Safi, her gaze sharp.

  "What? I hate being called 'princess.' "

  She grins. "Liar. You don't hate it. You kind of like it."

  Alik bursts out laughing, and Rak's smile flashes white in his tanned face.

  "I do not like it!" I protest, blushing, but it's no use. To get the attention off myself, I ask, "How exactly does this very annoying gift of yours work? You have great hearing, or something?"

  "Not exactly. I sense vibrations in the air, or through objects. Heartbeats, breathing, footsteps, raindrops. Luckily I can choose when to tap into it, otherwise I'd probably go crazy within minutes."

  "How do you tap into it?"

  She pauses, thinking. "It's hard to describe. It's a zone that I go into. I concentrate, and this door in my head opens, and if I want to I can sense all the vibrations from everywhere at once. Or I can focus, and pull a few vibrations that I choose, like from a specific person. And if I'm touching the ground directly with my skin, I can tell where people are walking or running, and how many of them there are."

  "Is there a range to it? Like, how close do you have to be?"

  "I've sensed footsteps from twenty miles away before."

  I gape at her. "That's impossible."

  "Not for me."

  "This is so fascinating," says Alik, yawning. "Especially for those of us humans without a shred of Evolved talent. Although some say my thievery and love-making skills approach superhuman levels of excellence."

  I make a gagging noise, and Safi laughs. "A big boast. Also untrue."

  Alik's smile drops. "What's the fun of being around someone who calls you out whenever you're boasting or exaggerating?"

  "That's the question," says Safi, her smile gone as well. "What's left, after the lies we tell each other?"

  Alik stares at his hands. Silence creeps in between the four of us, unwieldy and unwelcome.

  "What's in the shed?" Rak's words shatter the quiet. "The one in the courtyard?"

  Safi's eyes light up. "Come with me and I'll show you."

  13

  We troop down the stairs after her, and for a second, I'm afraid the steps will collapse with the weight of the four of us. But the framework holds in spite of the way the wood shudders and quakes.

  Out in the bright courtyard, I pull my goggles down from their resting spot on my head and settle them over my eyes again. The world stays clear and sharp, but the light is a few shades less intense. More pleasant, less headache-inducing.

  A black and yellow blur darts toward us, jaws wide, but Safi snaps her fingers, barking "Stop!" Instead of sinking its teeth into my throat, the jacanal swerves aside, skidding against the wall of the building and circling around, snarling, its wicked eyes darting to each of us in turn.

  "Down, Deathspawn," says Safi, and the creature crouches, its stance anything but submissive. "Down!" she says in a deeper voice, and the beast hunches and settles onto the ground. Its ears stay pinned back, and it rumbles incessantly with throaty threats. Occasionally it clashes its jaws, purple tongue licking out for a bare half-second before the jagged teeth snap shut.

  I follow Safi down the steps, staying as close to her as I can in case Deathspawn decides to come at me again. Safi smells like sweat and grease, and something sharp and herbal.

  When we reach the covered, curtained area, Safi reaches for a chain hanging at the corner of the canvas. "Only a few people have seen this magnificent disaster." She's smiling, but she won't look at any of us directly.

  Taking a breath, she pulls the chain, and the canvas sweeps to one side.

  Under the roof sprawls a monster of a vehicle, a bare-bones iron frame outfitted with miscellaneous slabs of metal plating, sitting atop massive continuous wheel treads. The thick visor glass at the front slopes over a pair of seats so worn that their padding is erupting through the faded leather in multiple spots.

  Behind the front seats is a large metal bin, which appears to have rusted through and then been reinforced with patchwork pieces. Four exhaust pipes jut from the rear of the vehicle, underneath the bin. From my angle, I can see the side and rear of the beast, not the front—but judging by the exclamations from Rak and Alik, the front-side view must be equally impressive—or depressing. I'm not sure which one applies here.

  "What is it?" I ask.

  "I used to call it the Liberator," Safi says, slapping the side of the thing. "Now I call it the Cob."

  "Cob?"

  "C.O.B. Cranky Old Bastard."

  Rak circles the machine, his gaze sharp with interest. "This is a junk collector. Model #395—or at least it used to be, before you modified it."

  "Repaired it, modified it—I've spent everything I earned on this machine for the past six years," says Safi. "It was a gutted wreck when I found it, and I've had to wait weeks or months to earn enough for each part, and even longer for the parts to be delivered. Takes forever for supplies to get out here."

  "How
many people can it carry?" says Alik.

  "Originally it was designed for three—a driver, a collector, and a monitor for the crusher." She gestures to the pair of front seats, then to a metal perch at the back. "The crusher compartment used to be here, but I've taken out the moving parts and reinforced it to hold extra fuel canisters. I've got one canister of fuel, but it's going to take five or six cans to get this beast to the mountains."

  "You're headed north?" Rak asks.

  She nods. "That's where the Maraj usually roam, right? The northern ranges? Fray territory, mostly."

  "Yes." Rak looks away, but not before I see the shadow that clouds his eyes. Concern for his mother and his sister. News of the Vilor attack and his disappearance may have already reached them, and if they don't know of his treachery to the Fray, they probably think he's dead.

  He looks so sad, so conflicted. I need to get him alone, to talk to him. I have to tell him that it's all right for him to leave, that he can go back to his family—and to his faction, if that's even possible after what he has done for me.

  Alik is discussing the price of fuel with Safi—it actually sounds as if he might be offering to buy the fuel for her. She doesn't need my warning to be cautious around him; she's got her gifts to let her know when he's lying. I hope she recognizes that he's the kind of guy who is perpetually looking out for himself. Like Gareth. Like my boyfriend before him, Kanni.

  Alik has that same cold tension in his sky-blue eyes, even when he's working his charm, smiling lazily like he hasn't a care in the world. He hides his self-interest well, like Gareth did—but I've learned to spot it. I don't go for those sly pretty-boy smiles anymore. I like a guy with genuine warmth in his soul.

  As Alik and Safi gesture and argue about distances and units of fuel, I edge toward Rak. "I'm a little dizzy," I say. "I might go inside where it's cooler."

  "Good." He doesn't look away from the seams of the metal plate he's examining.

  "Come with me."