by Brenda Poppy
“Wait,” Kaz said before she reached the door. He turned back to the kitchen, grabbing the pipe from the counter. Burn stiffened, panic momentarily shocking her system, but she relaxed when he held it out to her. “Take this. Just in case.”
Burn reached out warily, taking the pipe from him. It felt heavy and reassuring in her hand. She wasn’t sure how much good it would do against an entire squad of military personnel, but it was nice to have something other than a pen to defend herself with.
“Thanks,” Burn replied. It seemed inadequate, but it was all she could offer. She turned to go, her ears alert to any sounds on the road outside, but she stopped when she heard his voice instead.
“Hold on. You haven’t even told me your name.”
Burn glanced back, a wry smile on her face, and gave a slight shake of her head. She turned around and opened the door, stepping out into the night. As she began to walk down the empty street, Kaz’s voice floated into the darkness. “Goodbye, mystery girl.”
Chapter 7
The next morning, the pain hit Burn before the noise. Everything hurt. Her legs felt like dead weights, and her arms were similarly useless. She moaned, trying to sit up and failing. Instead, she stared at the ceiling, recalling everything that had happened the night before. In detail.
One thing stood out from the others, demanding her attention: Amblys was dead. Murdered.
She hadn’t been the man’s biggest fan, but nobody deserved that kind of ending. Revulsion churned in her gut. The Peace Force did whatever they wanted, killed whoever they wanted, and paid no price for their actions. It wasn’t right. That kind of tyranny needed to be stopped.
The anger in that thought gave Burn the strength to propel herself out of bed and into the hall. She made a beeline for the bathroom, where she spent a few extra minutes scrubbing off the grime and disgust of the previous night’s events. The cold jet of water was bracing, but it helped remove the cobwebs from her mind and focus her thoughts.
Something had to be done. Not small baby steps. Not freeing a prisoner here, exposing bribery there. They needed a plan – a solid plan – to affect real change.
She stalked out into the hall, noticing that Scar had once again taken up residence in the living room, surrounded by metal and wiring. She silently cursed herself as she realized that she’d forgotten to pick up extra batteries as an apology. Her scowl deepened.
It wasn’t until Scar spoke that Burn looked up, taking in her sister’s manic, energized state. “You were right,” Scar said by way of a greeting.
Her thoughts already jumbled, Burn just cocked her head in question.
“The Peace Force stopped by for one of their ‘friendly visits’ about an hour after you left yesterday. Searched the place from top to bottom. Routine, they said. Just sweeping the entire street. They bandied around words like ‘plot’ and ‘rebels’ without going into any detail.”
Burn sighed, rubbing her eyes as if it would wipe away the whole situation. “And?” she shot back tersely.
“We’re good,” Scar countered. She gave a sharp burst of laughter, startling Burn. “They seemed so disappointed. They were apparently hoping to find an entire resistance force concealed in your bedroom. They did take your tab, though.”
Confused, Burn fumbled in her pocket and removed her tab. “But I have it right here. How could they have taken it?”
A twinkle sparkled in Scar’s eyes as she took in her sister’s bewilderment. “Well, it might not have been your tab exactly. They did, however, take a tab.”
“Scar?” Burn queried, drawing out the name like an accusation.
“Let’s just say their tech team will be busy. For some reason you seem to keep your shopping lists very well encrypted.”
Burn shook her head, turning around. Scar was baiting them. Didn’t she have any sense of self-preservation?
“Hey,” she shouted from the living room. “At least I resisted the urge to create a fake diary detailing your explicit love for one Illex Cross!”
Without thinking, Burn grabbed the loaf of bread and hurled it in the direction of Scar’s head. It missed, hitting a pile of chains and gears in the corner. Scar laughed, taking it as the playful gesture it was intended to be.
“Next time just tell me what you’re planning,” said Burn with mock exasperation. “Plus, if I’m meant to be in love with that buffoon, I think I’ve been sending him some mixed signals lately.”
✽✽✽
After a breakfast of cheese and eggs, Burn retired to her bedroom to work. She shut the door behind her to drown out the sound of Scar’s ceaseless banging.
Neither of the sisters had what you’d call a typical job. But their particular sets of skills, paired with the funds they’d received from the Peace Force following their father’s untimely demise, made maintaining their way of life manageable. For Scar’s part, she used her talents to fix electronics, upgrade old devices, and make new creations to sell and barter with.
Burn’s side of things was a little less above board. Her contributions relied on blackmail. Like father, like daughter.
Burn wasn’t going to pretend she was perfect. Far from it. But she’d given up on simplistic moral definitions a long time ago. Good, bad, right, wrong, evil, just. The world was shades of gray and so was she.
To her credit, she picked her targets carefully. The rich, the cruel, the corrupt. The ones who owned the city and thought they could get away with anything.
It didn’t always work. Some thought they were immune to blackmail, that her threats were mere empty shells with no intention behind them. They were wrong. Those were the ones who’d wake up to find their secrets leaked via a hacked news feed to the whole city. Then, buoyed by a cry of public outrage, they’d be hauled in by the Peace Force or stripped of their position or thrown to the curb by their family. Or they’d disappear. Or, sometimes, they’d pay an inordinately large sum to the right parties and sweep the whole thing under the rug. You couldn’t always win.
But most would pay and pay well. Scar had set up an ingenious system to facilitate everything, from personalized messages delivered directly to the person’s tab to untraceable bank accounts that changed on a regular basis. No personal contact and no risk of Burn’s identity being revealed. All she had to do was keep gathering secrets, something which was now second nature to her.
Things were different when it came to the Peace Force. It wasn’t that they lacked secrets. It was that Burn didn’t want their money. She wanted their information. So she curated their lies, their thefts, their backhanded dealings, waiting for the sweet little moments when she could strike back.
But this was not one of those times. Despite her rage at Amblys’ fate, she knew that without a clear goal in mind she’d only end up wasting the precious ammunition she held. Besides, she reminded herself, she didn’t have enough. Sure, she had dirt on low-level officers and bits of mid-level data, but not enough to trade for any real info – or any real action.
So she settled for taking her frustration out on the rich and powerful. It wasn’t as cathartic as taking down someone on the force, but it managed to ease some of Burn’s irritation, nonetheless.
She was so caught up in tracing the intricate lies of those in power that the sudden beep of her tab made her jump. She glanced down, abandoning her work once she saw the message.
Decoded it read: “We need to meet. 20 at Teak. – Hale”
20 minutes. The Lunaria were gathering in 20 minutes at their safe house in the Teak Sector. Why so soon? Burn racked her brain. It couldn’t be about Amblys. That could wait; it wasn’t like he could get more dead. She didn’t have time to ponder, though. She had to get ready.
Burn jumped up from her desk, the sudden movement sending a wave of pain down her leg. She cringed but remained standing. Moving slower, she changed into a clean outfit and cloak, grabbing her mask and backup goggles on her way out of the room.
She made it all the way to the door and was about to exit when s
he heard a muffled “wait!” from the living room. She turned around, searching for Scar, and ultimately spotted her on the ground with her legs splayed on either side of yesterday’s robotic head. Not looking up from her work, Scar merely pointed with a screwdriver to a nearby table and muttered something that sounded like “googles.”
Glancing in the direction Scar had indicated, Burn saw a brand-new pair of goggles amidst the clutter of scraps and gears on the table. She walked over, picking them up and giving them a closer look.
They were beautiful. Leather straps connected the lenses, with intricate carved details that resembled a meadow glimpsed through a canopy of trees. She slipped them on and was delighted to find they were a perfect fit. As she adjusted them to sit on the bridge of her nose, the world suddenly sprang to life. Everything was a little brighter, a little sharper than before. Glancing at Scar, she could almost make out the individual hairs and wires in her unruly mane.
“These are...amazing,” Burn stammered.
“Wait till you see the other features.” Scar didn’t even try to hide her pride. “Enhanced night sight. Increased transmission range. They even have a built-in camera. Handy for those late-night blackmail missions. And maybe one or two other things, but I’ll let you discover those on your own.”
“Thank you,” Burn said sincerely. These were the nicest goggles she’d ever seen. People would pay a large sum for such a well-crafted piece of tech.
“Don’t lose these,” Scar said flatly. “I’m not making you another pair.” With that, she went back to her robot.
Burn reminded herself of her mission and hastily related the update to Scarlett, who didn’t look up from her work but gave a grunt acknowledging that she’d heard. With that done, Burn set off.
She didn’t see any Peace Officers outside her house. That didn’t mean they weren’t there, although Burn had a feeling that after their fruitless stakeout and search yesterday, they had probably been called off. She wasn’t about to take any chances, though. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough time to make a stop at Meera’s or another such safe house, so she resorted to her tried and true evasion tactics to lose any would-be follower.
She weaved her way in between stalls and shops, taking sharp turns and ducking down dark alleys as she went. She didn’t notice anyone on her tail, which was a relief, but she still continued her evasive maneuvers all the way to the Teak Sector.
After a few minutes, she came to a nondescript house and looked around surreptitiously before placing her finger on the biometric scanner. The door swung open and Burn ducked inside the dimly lit room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
She wasn’t the first one there. A handful of people stood and sat around the room, whispering their theories as to the reason for the meeting. Hale, a burly Lunaria operative who worked out of the manufacturing sector, stood silently in the corner giving nothing away. He was over a head taller than Auburn, making her feel diminutive, and he gave off an air of silent censure.
It wasn’t that she didn’t like Hale. He had been part of the organization for far longer than she had and always contributed valuable information and insights. But she found him unpredictable, and his methods often favored violence over diplomatic action. That might have had something to do with his gift.
Hale was strong. Not godlike by any means, but definitely a convenient ally in a fight. His brute force skill set came in handy when breaking locks and gates – and heads. It was a counterpoint to Burn, who prided herself on stealth and secrecy, listening from the shadows. She knew there were times when you had to step out of the shadows and take real action, and people like Hale gave them an advantage. Still, his readiness for violence made Burn uncomfortable, so she had learned to give him a wide berth.
Burn picked a seat across the room and settled herself between two familiar members – Ramus and Symphandra – greeting each with a curt nod. Ramus, on her right, was a lean, gangly man with blond hair so light that it verged on white. Burn knew his gift had something to do with plants. It wasn’t a wildly useful contribution in the subtle war they were waging, but it was refreshing, adding a little beauty to the blighted urban landscape of Kasis – and resulting in some delicious produce.
Symphandra, on the other hand, had no gift to speak of, but she was smart and cunning, and she brought forth a wealth of ideas on any proposed initiative. She was also hard to miss. Symphandra was an amazon of a woman, her extraordinary height accentuated by the dramatic leather high-heeled boots she always seemed to wear. They gave her the aura of someone otherworldly and dangerous, especially when paired with the leather corset she was currently sporting.
Burn looked closer at the garment and noticed that the pattern was almost identical to the one on her goggles. Symphandra must have noticed her curiosity, because she turned and said, “You like? I did it myself.”
“It’s extraordinary,” Burn said honestly. On her goggles, the pattern was small and ornate, resulting in a subtle kind of beauty. But on Symphandra’s corset, the flowers and trees burst to life, climbing and growing from her waist up her ribcage until ultimately blooming on her chest.
“Actually, I think you may have had a hand in making these,” Burn said, pointing to the goggles currently resting on her head.
“Oh, yeah!” she said excitedly, a smile brightening her face. “Scar drives a hard bargain, doesn’t she? I gave her that AND one of my best belts in exchange for an upgrade to my goggles. Although she did throw in this pen,” she said, her eyebrows waggling. As Symphandra produced the pen from her pocket, Burn instantly recognized Scar’s handiwork.
“Hey, that will come in handy,” Burn said, chuckling. “Just don’t get it mixed up with your real pens. It comes as a bit of a shock, if you know what I mean.” Both of them laughed lightly for a few seconds.
Their mirth was interrupted by a deep voice from the other side of the room. “Everybody, take your seats,” Hale said commandingly. The rumble of chatter cut off immediately as the room obeyed, giving him their full attention.
The crowd had increased by a few members since Burn had entered, taking the total up to almost 20. These were the leaders of the Lunaria, the planners and decision-makers. They represented different classes, professions, and skills, and each brought with them their own background and their own reason to fight. But that desire to fight, to deliver a better world than they’d been handed, was what united them.
Hale took the floor in the center of the circular gathering, looking around at the faces of his comrades. He bathed in the silence, enjoying the palpable tension building around the room.
“Friends,” he began slowly, “welcome. It’s been too long. Too much has happened in our city – is happening in our city – that we must address. And too long have we stood on the sidelines, dipping our toes in the fight only when the waters are high.”
He certainly possessed a commanding presence, Burn thought. The rest of the room seemed to feel the same, some staring in rapt attention while others nodded or clapped their hands in agreement.
“But before we act, we must know the terror we’re acting against. To that end, I invite Burn to the floor to update us on the unfortunate situation regarding our newest recruit.”
All eyes turned to Burn. The budding respect she’d been feeling for Hale turned to ice in her veins the instant he’d said her name.
Damn it, she thought. He was throwing her to the wolves, getting the crowd ready for action then tossing in a sacrificial lamb.
She got to her feet, slowly treading the short distance to the center of the circle. Unlike Hale, Burn was not meant for public speaking. She’d never been one for rousing speeches or debates, opting instead for a comfortable post on the sidelines from which to listen. That was her wheelhouse, and Hale knew it.
The room was silent as Burn scanned the upturned faces around her. Her nerves fizzled, sending quick shocks of panic up her spine. She tamped them down, clearing her throat to rid it of its cobwebs.
“Thank you, Hale.” Good, her voice sounded strong. She just had to keep it that way. “As many of you know, we’ve been tracking a proposed member to the group, a pickpocket and con artist who went by the name Amblys.” A few nods greeted her from around the room, acknowledging her statements and urging her on.
“On the night of his initiation, however, we discovered that he’d betrayed us. The Peace Force appeared in the Corax End en masse, taking anyone and everyone they came across. Luckily, I was able to alert the others to stay away.”
She had no doubt that her subsequent arrest was already common knowledge, but she thought better than to go into it. Her relationship with certain members of the force, like Detective Grayland, was polarizing, with many of the Lunaria still harboring their suspicions about her. Letting them know that he had helped her would add nothing to her credibility.
“The following night,” Burn continued, jumping ahead in the story, “he was found dead in his home, murdered. It was made to look like suicide but was poorly done. It reeked of Peace Force intervention. The crime scene was itself a trap, with military members guarding the area in hopes of capturing a resistance member. They were once again unsuccessful.”
No need to tell them about the chase, she decided on the spot. Or the injury. Or Kaz. Sensing that the crowd wanted some kind of wrap-up, like a heartening lesson or inspiring conclusion, Burn pressed on.
“The Peace Force is on high alert, sniffing out any signs of our existence. Stay safe. Report anything suspicious. Be on your guard.”
With that, Burn nodded to Hale and resumed her seat. Her hands were sweaty, with indents where her nails had dug into her palms. She spared a glance over at Symphandra, who gave her a small smile and a nod. Burn relaxed a bit more into her seat, glad the whole thing was over.
Hale once again took his place in the center of the circle. “Thank you, B, for the update. But you’re wrong.” Burn stiffened in agitation as he continued. “Being on our guard is no longer enough. If we wait for their next move before we take action, it will already be too late.”