The Flames: Book 2 of the Feud Trilogy

by Kyle Prue

  “No,” the Wolf said. “I want you to box her.” He cocked his head in the direction of Bianca. “Wrap your hands.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Neil said. “I’m not gonna hit Bianca.”

  “You’re right,” the Wolf said. “You probably won’t hit Bianca. But that’s no excuse not to try.”

  Neil noticed that Bianca’s hands were already taped. They usually were, seeing as she was a close combat fighter whenever she wasn’t throwing knives. He grabbed the ball of tape and began rolling it over his knuckles. “Are you sure about this?” he asked Bianca.

  She looked a little too sure and Neil remembered that just recently they’d been fighting. Maybe she was simply waiting for her chance to have a go at him. “Don’t worry, Neil,” she said. “It’ll be fun.”

  “There are ground rules,” the Wolf said. “Neil, no powers.”

  Neil’s heart rate spiked. He hadn’t been trained to fight hand to hand without powers. Based on the Wolf’s expression he knew it. “Why do I need to learn this?” Neil asked. The moment the words left his mouth he realized he sounded a lot like Darius.

  “In one week, you’ll spar me,” the Wolf said. “I’d suggest getting ready for that fight.”

  The Wolf left them to it and Neil watched him stride into the distance like some sort of phantom. Neil finished wrapping his hands. “Okay,” he said as he punched his opposite palm. “When do we start?”

  Neil was suddenly on the ground, his face caressed by the short grass. He blinked and realized blood was pooling in his mouth. “Did you just…?”

  “Win round one? Why, yes Neil. It looks like I did.” Bianca danced back and forth and jabbed the air.

  Neil stood shakily and raised his fists for round two. Hopefully, this one would last a little longer.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  THE CLIFF

  THE PACK

  Even though the Doctor’s powers had faded over time, he still had an extraordinary sense of hearing. Even now, over the roaring of his personal forge, he could hear the Marksman sneaking into his workshop. His son was no doubt searching for another hit of the Doctor’s special concoction. “You won’t find it, Victor,” the Doctor said.

  His son limped into view. He was pale as snow and sweat poured from his brow.

  “Are they dead?” the Doctor asked. “Did you earn it?”

  “I don’t have time for this,” the Marksman said. “I need it. I need it now. I have moments.”

  “If you didn’t manage to kill a single one of them, then why should I renew my contract with you?” The Doctor didn’t even face his son. “I don’t need dead weight in my Pack.”

  If the Marksman was offended he didn’t show it. He pulled his pistol from his side and positioned it against the back of the Doctor’s head. “If I feel my heart giving out, I’ll pull this trigger.”

  “You don’t have the spine for it.” The Doctor continued assembling a wooden box, with a triggering mechanism inside. “You want to live? Earn it.”

  “The Vapros boys are hiding secrets from the Celerius girl. She’s also hiding secrets from the Wolf. Both the Celerius girl and the Wolf have the same power: they channel sound waves through the air. The street girl is Anastasia’s sister. Anastasia and the street girl are both spawn of Paul Blackmore.”

  As the Marksman rattled off information methodically the Doctor tightened a screw on his metal jaw. “That last detail is particularly interesting,” the Doctor said. “Has Anastasia wavered?”

  “I don’t know,” the Marksman said. “She told me she’s using her connection to lead them to you directly.”

  The Doctor laughed, or coughed. “Of course she is. She’s a survivor and she’s running out of time. I estimate that in a week she’ll be in the same situation you are now.”

  The Marksman tightened his grip on the gun. “I’m going to do it this time.”

  “I know you’re not one for boasting,” the Doctor said. “I know that if you’re saying it, you really mean it. My last question for you is this, Victor: are you ready to enter the void?”

  Victor cocked the gun. “I’ve been ready for a while.”

  The Doctor pulled a wooden box from the inside of his coat pocket and passed it to Victor. His son lowered the gun and fumbled with the box until it opened and a syringe fell out. The Marksman caught it before it hit the ground and jabbed it into his neck. He injected the chemical and collapsed in relief as the withdrawal subsided. “Is Sean Beaton dead?” the Doctor asked conversationally.

  “Yes,” the Marksman said. “I’ll share the payment.”

  “No need,” the Doctor said. “Your friend, your contract, your money.”

  The Marksman rested his head on the stone floor and exhaled evenly. They waited in silence as the Doctor finished his contraption. “I saw your brother last month,” the Doctor said.

  “Lester?” the Marksman asked.

  “No,” the Doctor said. “The other one.”

  This shook the Marksman from his trance. “Are you sure?”

  The Doctor set the box on its side and wiped his hands on his apron. “I am. He’s in the Industrial City. Working. His powers are gone.”

  “Broke his oaths?”

  “I assume so. Not all Venator want to remain Venator.”

  “You know that better than anyone.”

  The Doctor’s upper lip, his only lip, curled. “Go to sleep, Victor. Tomorrow you’re going to build a machine with me.”

  “A machine for what?”

  The Doctor looked into the bannisters above them. “We’re building a web, Victor. This particular strand is for the Celerius. They’ll be wrapped up. Like flies.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  SHIPWRECK BAY

  DARIUS TAURLUM

  Darius looked like he’d been swimming, he was sure. Sweat dripped from every iron pore and, for the first time in his life, he felt sore. For the thousandth time that day he grabbed the carriage and heaved with all of his might. It didn’t budge. Again. He groaned in frustration. Maybe he could tear the carriage to pieces and deliver it to the Wolf in a thousand different parts. After another unsuccessful attempt he stood straight, only to find that Anastasia was sitting cross legged on top of the carriage. “Get off,” Darius growled. “I don’t need this thing to be any heavier.”

  She didn’t move. “Take a break?” she recommended. “You’ve been at this for two days.”

  Darius waved her away as if she were nothing but a bug. “Taurlum get stronger the angrier they get.”

  “So I must make you very strong,” Anastasia supplied. “Seeing me must make you lift like nothing else.”

  Darius scowled, but didn’t respond. There was actually some logic to her backwards thinking. He flopped onto his back and pushed with his legs. The carriage still didn’t budge. “Maybe I don’t make you as angry as you say,” Anastasia said. “Maybe you actually like seeing my face around.”

  She spoke mostly too herself, but it was enough to infuriate Darius. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but none of us are exactly glad to have you around,” he said. “You’re an assassin. How can we charge into battle with you when we don’t even know what side you’re on?”

  “Bianca trusts me,” Anastasia said.

  She didn’t sound completely certain. Darius had found a weakness. He didn’t have an endgame in mind aside from hurting Anastasia. It was petty and he knew it, but he wanted her gone more than he wanted the strength to move this carriage. “You think Bianca trusts you? I’m pretty sure I had a friendlier relationship with Michael. And he tried to kill me. At least Michael and I exchanged words.”

  Anastasia narrowed her eyes. She knew what he was doing, he could tell. “I suppose you’re right,” Anastasia said. “Bianca and I have never been close.”

  Darius paused. He’d expected a battle and not getting one was frustrating him. “Why not?” he asked.

  She gave him a look that said, you don’t really want to know. You’re mess
ing with me. He shrugged and went back to pushing up against the side. “Our father was a truly terrible man. His name was Paul Blackmore.”

  “I’ve heard the name,” Darius said. “He’s a lieutenant in the army.”

  “Was a lieutenant in the army,” Anastasia corrected him. “He drank himself to death a few weeks ago. Good riddance.” She murmured the last part while looking up to the sky.

  “What did he do that was so bad to you and Bianca?”

  “He didn’t do anything to Bianca,” she said. “He didn’t turn her into a killing machine.”

  Darius punched the carriage, which dented it, but not much else. “Bianca turned into a killing machine all on her own, then,” Darius said more to himself than to her.

  “Our father used to be a part of something called the Imperial Hunting Squadron. They were responsible for going after anyone out here with a body count over ten. His job was to research the land beyond the walls before the rest of the group came out to join him. He would meet the locals in an area and map out the journey for the rest.”

  “So he was in charge.” Darius slammed into the carriage shoulder first. Nothing.

  “Actually the Wolf was in charge.”

  Darius took a moment to remember that the Wolf had once been the General of the Imperial Army. He seemed like an Outsider through and through. “So the Wolf and your dad had their own little club. One thing leads to another, and now you kill people for money.”

  She looked annoyed. For a moment he was sure that she wouldn’t continue the story. “It wasn’t just the Wolf and my Dad. Carlin was part of it too. And so were Anthony Celerius and Virgil.” Her hand rested on her chain spike and Darius tensed up instinctually. “Carlin, Anthony and Virgil were just firepower. They were the real hunters. The Wolf was in charge of directing them and my father would feed them information. He loved it outside the walls. He loved the people. He found an Outsider woman and seduced her.”

  “Your Mom?” Darius guessed.

  “Good Darius,” she said. He was close enough for her to pat him on the head condescendingly. “You’re listening very well. Nine months later I was born. My mother wanted to keep me, but Paul Blackmore loved the idea of having an Outsider child. So he took me around all of Volteria. I went on every scouting mission. I even got one of these.” She pulled her shirt up and exposed a small tattoo on her flank. IHS. It looked slightly stretched and morphed. It was clear that it had been given to a much smaller girl. “Everyone in the hunting squadron had one, so my father gave me one too.”

  “How old were you when that happened?” He indicated the tattoo.

  “Five,” she said. “Bianca was born that same year. My father would never take me inside the walls, and then I knew why. He had another wife, and she’d just birthed another daughter. Once I found out I threw a few tantrums, so he took me inside to meet her whenever he could. We spent a few years seeing each other every couple months. My father didn’t care for her as much and only came by when he had to. She was spared.”

  “Spared what?”

  “He wanted to turn his Outsider child into a soldier. Like he was. So he taught me everything. He made sure that I knew how to kill. Eventually he stopped taking me on his missions and started giving me my own. Eventually Bianca’s mother died of sickness and we stopped visiting her altogether.”

  “So you just left her all alone?” Darius asked.

  “You never met my father. She was better off. No one took him seriously because he was always drunk, but he was secretly vicious and calculating. When he was without drink his temper only got worse.”

  Darius wanted to mention that vicious and calculating was how he saw her, but he found it difficult. He didn’t want to hurt her anymore. It was always easier to hate someone you didn’t know.

  “When I was sixteen I failed one of his crucial missions and he attacked me. That was the last time I saw him. I found my way back inside the city by forging documents and started using the only skill I had to make money.”

  “So how did you fall in with the Doctor?”

  Her grip on the spike increased and he saw her knuckles turn white. “After Rhys stabbed me, I needed medical help. All assassins are told about the Doctor. I was able to find him before I bled out and he promised to help me if I promised to join the Pack.” She stared into nothingness with fury. “I’ve spent a lot of time killing for men who made me think I had no other choice.” She slid her hand over the side of her spike as if to wipe off the Doctor’s imaginary blood. “But you can be certain, when I send this spike through the Doctor’s body, it’ll be for me.”

  One look into her eyes told Darius that she believed it. He was silent as he continued to push and pull at the carriage. “You have to dig it out,” Anastasia said.

  “The Wolf said that I couldn’t use tools.”

  “You don’t have to. You have super strength. Dig around the sides until the whole thing is unearthed. Then pull it out.”

  “And that will work?”

  “It’ll work better than throwing your weight against it like an ox.”

  Darius chuckled under his breath and went to work digging. She watched him, unblinking, but now he didn’t mind. He was sure about one thing as he threw handful after handful behind him. He felt sorry for her. Part of him understood everything she’d done to him. She might help him carry the carriage out of the dirt, but not by provoking his anger. He’d already wasted too much of that.

  Chapter Thirty

  SHIPWRECK BAY

  LILLY CELERIUS

  Lilly spotted Virgil as he pulled his cloak over his head in the town square. She’d just failed her sixth run of the week and was jogging back slowly. So far she hadn’t even come close to the Wolf’s twenty-minute cap. She was stuck near thirty minutes for each run, some faster, some slower. On this particular run she’d tripped over a branch and pulled a muscle in her leg, so she was taking the more direct route back to the ship. The route happened to put her on a collision course with someone she badly wanted a word with. She waited until he exited the more populated area of town and tailed him through the streets. She bolted from alley to alley as she pursued him and made sure her blue coat was never visible when he turned around to search for a tail.

  She’d known Virgil over the course of his rise to lieutenant. After all, Anthony had practically adopted him. He was always skittish, his head constantly in motion. Every time she came within a hundred yards, he’d turn to search for a tail, and she’d have to dart into hiding with her Celerius speed. He eventually reached the outskirts of town and she realized that her chance was slipping away. She had no weapon, but that wasn’t an issue. She planned to commandeer his. She advanced quickly and reached out for the knife at his belt. He seemed to anticipate her and yielded to her attack. She tumbled past him and onto the ground, but recovered immediately. She wouldn’t let him have the upper hand. “I’ve waited a long time to see you again, Virgil,” she spat.

  He pulled his knife from his belt and held it in a defensive position. “I’ve awaited it as well. I regret what happened to Anthony. I think about it every day, but I have a new purpose. I can’t be made to dwell on Anthony’s death.”

  “Your purpose was assigned to you by a psychotic murderer,” Lilly said. “I’m interested, Virgil.” She pronounced his name like it was a curse upon him. “When you think about Anthony, do you think about the fact that he pulled you out of poverty and made you a soldier? He used to talk about how he turned you, a savage, into a man of honor. Anthony practically adopted you.”

  “And I love him for that,” Virgil said. “But he made his choice. What was I to do? Fight him? Stab Carlin through the heart?”

  “It would have been a good start,” Lilly said.

  Virgil shook his head. “Your brother loved you more than you know, and I’m sure he watches over you from beyond the grave. Leave Shipwreck Bay within the week. I have no choice but to report what I’ve seen here to General Carlin.”

  “You h
ave no choice,” Lilly said with a humorless laugh. “That would make a good family motto for you.”

  Virgil placed his hand over his weapon cautiously. “I’ll consider it.”

  He turned around and walked away down the road. He did it calmly, too. Lilly wanted to scream at his arrogance. He somehow knew that he could defend himself well enough or that she wouldn’t go after him. She wanted to find a rock and bash his head in from behind, but it wasn’t in her nature. She wasn’t a scoundrel like him.

  She turned back to report his presence to the Wolf when something occurred to her. Virgil had been exiting a store. She hadn’t taken the time to look at what store it was exactly, but chances were that it had something to do with whatever assignment Carlin had given him. She hoped that it wasn’t just a bakery or something ridiculous. She considered going back to get assistance from the Wolf and her friends, but there was a fire burning within her and she had to release her rage somehow. An investigation seemed like a good place to start.

  She returned to the square and went to the corner store. She could tell it was an armory from looking in the dusty windows. She opened the door and a small bell attached to the frame rang. “I’ll be just a moment!” came a cry from the back.

  She examined the swords and noticed that a few looked to be expertly made, with intricate golden handles. Surprisingly, a few others looked like a man with no arms had forged them. The metal was bent and unpolished. When she ran a finger over the blade it wasn’t even sharp enough to cut her. She used her abilities to feel her way around the store. An incredibly short man was in the back fiddling with a sword. She could also feel another mass in the closet nearest her. It was dense and crumpled, but she couldn’t figure out what it was. She wanted to open the closet but decided to wait until she met the owner. The man walked out of the back and she was stricken by his size. She had always been tall for her age and gender, but this man looked to be in his thirties and rested at four-and-a-half feet tall. Despite this, he was muscular enough to look formidable. He had a sizable cloak and it concealed his face in shadows. “Are you looking for anything in particular?” he asked.