Burn this City: A Dystopian Novel

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Burn this City: A Dystopian Novel Page 14

by Brenda Poppy


  “And you, Ms. Alendra?” he asked, his interest on full display. “How has your evening been so far? I must admit that your disappearing act made me more than a little curious. Tell me, what was so interesting that it drew you away from all of this?” He waved his hand around the ballroom, indicating all the raucous officers and their dates for the evening.

  “As you must be aware,” Burn started, a hint of steel creeping into her tone, “I’m unaccustomed to such luxury. I’ve been enjoying myself immensely, but I do need to pace myself. Delicate constitutions and all that.” She batted her eyelashes up at him to emphasize her point.

  “Oh, come now, Auburn. Let’s be honest with each other, shall we?” The use of her first name felt intrusive and far too intimate, and Burn had a sudden urge to pull away, but Cross held her tight. They were now on the dance floor, and he moved his hands to her waist, drawing her close. Instinctively, she put her hands on his shoulders, feeling the hard muscles underneath.

  “Every time I turn around, there you are,” he continued, his face close to her ear. If anyone saw them, they would just look like two more lovers on the dance floor, holding each other close and swaying in time to the music. “You’re in the Corax End the night of an anarchist meeting, you show up at the Peace Station, and now you’re here. I sincerely doubt any of this is a coincidence.”

  “You caught me, Illex.” He twitched satisfyingly at the use of his Christian name. But if he could use hers, she would be doing the same. “I can’t stay away from you. Such power, such masculinity. How could a girl resist?” Sarcasm to the fullest degree. She knew she shouldn’t poke the bear, especially a bear that was clearly hot on her trail, but her fuse was getting dangerously short.

  Cross grimaced, his mouth flattening into a thin line before he spoke. “Don’t you get it? Whatever you’re up to, you’ll fail. You’re no one. And you have nothing. And if you keep getting in my way, I’ll make sure you lose everything you hold dear. Got it?”

  The fire in Burn’s chest erupted, sweeping up her throat and into her mouth, but she clamped her teeth, trying to contain the words. You already took my father, she wanted to say – no, she wanted to scream. She kept her mouth shut for several heartbeats, trying to keep the anger at bay.

  When she finally opened her mouth again it was to say, “I don’t think I understand what you mean. I was invited here on a date by a friend. Nothing more. If you’re on the hunt for hardened criminals, I’m afraid you’ll have to look elsewhere.”

  Cross let out a long, exaggerated sigh before glancing back down at her. “Oh, Auburn. I must admit that I’m disappointed. I thought we’d agreed to be honest with each other.”

  “I don’t make deals with people incapable of keeping them.” The words were out before Burn could stop herself, and she immediately regretted them. But Cross just looked amused, like a small, weak puppy had tried to attack him but had merely managed to nip at his ankle.

  Cross lapsed into silence, enjoying the moment and his control over it – and over her. Burn, on the other hand, struggled to retain her composure. That feat doubled in difficulty when Scar’s voice crackled through her earrings. Burn was so startled that she missed a beat and stepped on one of Cross’ feet, producing a barely contained grunt of pain.

  “Burn!” Scar cried. True to her word, only Burn could hear her sister’s voice through the comms. Cross remained blissfully unaware.

  After a few seconds of waiting for Burn’s reply, Scar continued, “Something’s happened. Something bad. You need to come home now.”

  Burn plastered a blank look on her face, but her insides were churning. Had someone been hurt? Was something wrong with Scar? Had Cross done something to her? Although she desperately wanted to ask, she couldn’t risk it – not in front of Cross.

  Undaunted, Scar went on. “Hale sent a message to the Lunaria – a message about you. I told you that hack would come in handy.” Even in moments of crisis, Scar still found time to bask in her own genius.

  “Apparently he was following you tonight. He saw you with Kaz. He tracked you to the party. He thinks you’re working with them. Burn, he told the Lunaria that you’re a traitor.”

  Shocked, Burn missed another beat and collided with Cross, sending a shock of pain through her injured leg. She gasped and stopped the dance, clutching at the spot in a futile attempt to soothe the pain.

  “Why, Ms. Alendra, I am so sorry,” he said without a hint of feeling behind the words. “Here, let me escort you off the dance floor so you can sit down.” Burn limped away, refusing Cross’ assistance.

  Her mind whirled, coursing with pain and anger and fear. Hale thought she was a traitor. And right now he could be convincing every member of the Lunaria that she was not to be trusted. If that happened, all of the information she had gained would be for nothing.

  On top of all of that, Cross knew about her leg. If the officers who had chased her had reported back about the intruder’s injury, he’d be able to place her at the scene of the crime. He’d connect her to Amblys and to the Lunaria, and he’d make sure she paid.

  “I’m so sorry to have to cut our dance short,” she finally said. “I did warn you that I wasn’t a good dancer. I guess you’re not as good of a leader as you thought.” She didn’t know what she was saying. She wanted to say something – anything – to deflect his unwavering attention.

  Focus, Burn, she told herself. Get out of here. Get out now. Figure out the rest later. But right now, GET OUT.

  “It was…nice to see you again, General Cross,” she said haltingly. “But I think I should be getting home. I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” With that, she turned and fled, all but running up the stairs and into the entrance hall. After hastily collecting her mask and goggles, she tumbled out of the house and into the night.

  She’d just stepped into the elevator when a voice echoed behind her in the darkness, calling her name. Spinning around, she saw Kaz rushing toward her, a look of confusion and desperation painting his features.

  Burn knew she had a choice. She could forget the Lunaria, turn her back on them like they’d done to her. Maybe Kaz could keep her safe – or maybe they could go into hiding, taking Scar with them and building a new life somewhere Cross would never find them. Or she could fight. She could take on Hale and force the Lunaria to listen. It was love versus duty. Happiness or justice. She made her choice in an instant.

  “Kaz, this was a mistake. I can’t do this,” she said as he reached her, panting.

  “Wait! Just tell me what’s going on,” he pleaded, trying to make her stay.

  “I don’t belong here. Just leave me alone. Forget I ever existed.” With that, she let the elevator doors close between them, sealing them in their separate worlds.

  The anger and frustration inside of her were threatening to tear her apart, and she slammed her hand against the upholstered wall with a thud. How had everything fallen apart so fast? How had she allowed this to happen? She cursed her own stupidity for ever accepting Kaz’s invitation, for ever thinking she could do this.

  The elevator bell dinged and the doors opened, ushering her out into the smog-filled evening that she’d left behind only a few hours before. Was it only a few hours, Burn thought? It felt like a lifetime ago. So much had happened. So much was going to happen.

  She hurried out, her pace quickening into a run as she made her way downward. She needed to get home, needed to get to Scar. Together, they would find a way through this.

  She scrambled over a walkway, then down a set of stairs, not even sure if she was heading in the right direction. She took a turn, then another, pausing for a minute to get her bearings before backtracking in the opposite direction. All she knew was that she needed to keep running, needed to go further, faster, and maybe everything would be fine. But that’s not how the world works.

  Without warning, a shadow stepped out in front of her, blocking her path. Burn had to grab onto the cold brick wall beside her to slow her momentum, slicing her p
alm in the process. She panted heavily, the filth of the city making it impossible to draw a clean breath.

  Burn backed up slowly as the figure moved toward her, his measured pace menacing. In an instant she found herself with her back against a cold stone wall. The man, however, kept inching closer, emerging from the fog and resolving into the all too familiar form of General Illex Cross.

  “What a coincidence, running into you here,” came his cold, cruel voice. But, despite his words, Burn knew this was no coincidence.

  “What do you want?” Burn asked. She knew it wasn’t the most pertinent question. In fact, she would have bet anything that she already knew the answer to it. But her mind had suddenly gone blank, emptying of anything and everything until only his voice was left, echoing dangerously through her thoughts.

  “You, my dear. I want you.”

  By this time he was in front of her, and he leaned in, putting his hand on the wall behind her. She couldn’t think of anything to say – or anything to do to get herself out – so she merely stood there, like an animal hoping against hope that a predator will pass them by after catching their scent.

  “You are such a little nuisance, aren’t you? Always turning up where you’re not wanted. Always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong. You think you’re so clever. But in reality, you’re just a sad little girl who wants something she can’t have.”

  He leaned closer, pressing against her much the same as Kaz had earlier that night. Except it was nothing like his touch. This was basic, primal, and savage, a move fueled by a desire for power rather than any kind of sexual intent. It made Burn’s skin crawl and she writhed, trying to find a weak spot. But her movement only seemed to provoke him further, and he pinned her to the wall tightly, his hands trapping her arms at her sides. She moved her face to get as far away from his as she could, but she could still feel his warm breath against her cheek.

  “You’re pathetic,” he whispered into her ear. “Just like your father was.”

  She spat in his face, the only recourse she could think of. He twisted his head to the side to dislodge the saliva, but he didn’t loosen his hold on her.

  “Don’t you DARE mention my father. He was more of a man – more of an officer – than you’ll ever be.”

  At that, Cross let out a small chuckle, shaking his head in disdain. “You only idolize the man because he’s gone. Why, I could tell you stories that would make your skin crawl – of the things he did, the people he hurt. He wasn’t better than me. In fact, he was just like me. Only I’m better at staying alive.”

  “If I’m so pathetic,” Burn spat back, “then why are you here? Why not send more of your cronies to bring me in?”

  “If you want something done right, blah, blah, blah.” He sounded almost bored at having to explain it to her. “Besides, who knows how many of my officers you’ve corrupted with your lies? You clearly have your claws into more than one. So sneaky of you, by the way. Kudos on your devious plan.”

  Burn wanted to protest, wanted to say that Kaz and Grayland had nothing to do with any of this, but she kept her mouth shut. Bringing their names into it would only cause more trouble, and she didn’t want them to have to pay for her ill-fated choices.

  Burn’s legs were trapped beneath his considerable bulk. She tried to move one out from under him so she could strike, but the move only made him press into her more deeply. So instead, she used the only part of her body not currently imprisoned by his – her head. She gathered her courage and swung it forward, attempting to headbutt him with all the strength she could muster.

  But he was quicker, moving his head out of the way with such speed that her neck snapped and her head bounced back into the hard wall behind her, momentarily stunning her.

  “You’re so plucky,” Cross said from a safe distance, smiling wickedly. “It’s such a shame that I can’t keep you around. But I can’t have you getting in my way.” He didn’t sound sad at all. Actually, Burn thought through the pounding in her head, he sounded quite giddy about it.

  “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already,” she bit back, the sharpness in her voice a match for his own. “I’d rather be dead than listen to you prattle on any longer.”

  “Ouch, you hurt me,” he retorted. “But seriously, you’ve got me wrong. I don’t want to kill you. No, death would be too good for someone like you, too quick. And what fun would that be?”

  Burn almost wished for death then. The alternatives flashing through her head were more vile than just ceasing to exist. Torture. Or worse, Cross forcing himself on her. He was already pressed so close against her, and he was clearly enjoying it.

  “So what do you intend to do with me, then?” she asked after an inordinately long pause.

  The all-knowing look was back as he leeringly looked her over. “Oh, I have something much better planned for you. But I don’t want to spoil the surprise. What fun would that be?”

  “Oh, come now,” Burn said, panic bubbling up in her chest. She squirmed, trying to get free, and felt one of her legs start to loosen from his hold. All she had to do was keep him talking. Then maybe, just maybe she could work her way out of this. “Give me a hint? We are old friends, after all.”

  Another bemused chuckle. Just start talking, Burn thought. I know how you like to listen to yourself talk. “Well, let’s just say that you’re going to come in handy. I have this experiment going, you see, and I think I’ve just found my next test subject.”

  Burn wriggled her leg, finding more give beneath his heavy body. She saw her chance – and she took it. She wrenched her leg free of him and kicked in the direction of his kneecap with all the force she could muster. She heard a satisfying crunch as she made contact, and Cross’ hands loosened their grasp on her.

  She didn’t hesitate, pulling her arms free of him and pushing his body off hers. The refreshing night air met her free limbs, cooling the places where Cross’ skin had burned against hers.

  She was free. She started moving blindly, her only goal to get away – as far away as she could and as fast as she could. Her legs felt too heavy, but she kept moving, putting more space between her and Cross. Or so she thought.

  Suddenly a sharp pain blossomed on the back of her head, accompanied by a dull metallic thud and an unnatural ringing in her ears. She collapsed to the ground, stunned. Without wasting a moment, Cross grabbed her hands, tying them tightly behind her back. Darkness descended as he secured a blindfold over her eyes. Burn used her last ounce of energy to muster a scream, but that, too, was cut off as Cross stuffed a gag into her throat, silencing her calls for help.

  Chapter 17

  The pain in Burn’s head was what finally woke her. She’d been having some sort of dream – well, more of a nightmare. Something about a decadent party and a hero and a villain. But something had gone wrong. The hero had left. And no matter how fast she ran, she couldn’t escape the evil force that was trying to trap her.

  She awoke in a cold sweat, gripping her head. She should have drunk less last night, she thought groggily. Last night. Something important was nagging at the back of her mind, trying to find its way out. What had happened last night?

  Burn sat up abruptly, the full force of the night’s events coming back to her. She tried to open her eyes, but for some reason her goggles were missing and the haze in this place made her eyes sting. The best she could do was squint into the misty light around her.

  As her memories of the night before came crashing into place, a sense of panic tightened in her chest. That, combined with the poor air quality and her lack of a mask, led to a coughing fit, and she knelt down on all fours to brace herself against the cool floor.

  Once the attack had subsided, she tried to open her eyes again to get a sense of her surroundings. She could only make out bits and pieces of the room around her, but she got the sense that it was small and dim and seemed to be crowded with discarded pieces of furniture. The only source of light was a single bulb on the ceiling, which cast fuzzy s
hadows on the walls and floors.

  There were no windows to give her a sense of where she was or even what time of day it was. Burn had no idea how long she had been out.

  Her head pounded, and she vaguely remembered being hit with something large and hard before Cross had seized her. The ensuing journey had been a blur of sounds. At one point, she had been dragged along the ground before being placed (not too gently) on some sort of cart that had transported her here. At least they’d been kind enough to remove her restraints.

  She tried to stand up, but a sudden overwhelming dizziness brought her crashing back down, and she collided with a wooden table on her way to the floor. Another bruise to add to the collection.

  Burn crawled over to a chair in the corner and gently hoisted herself onto the seat. It was old and full of holes, and the springs were poking through in more than one place, but it felt good to sit on something other than the cold ground. She let her head rest on the high back, relishing the temporary relief. Because it was just that: temporary.

  This was a holding cell of sorts, a place to store people and things until their owners found a proper way to dispose of them. Burn had no misconceptions on that account. She was here to be “taken care of,” and whatever Cross had in store for her it was going to hurt.

  Burn looked around the room slowly, eyes closed into slits, scanning for a weapon. Sure, she could barely move without falling down and she could hardly see a thing through the haze, but that was no reason not to be prepared. However, nothing useful jumped out of the rubbish as an obvious weapon. Each piece of furniture in the room seemed to be large and cumbersome, not anything she could easily break or fashion into a makeshift bat, especially in her weakened state.

  She closed her eyes again, breathing through the panic and the pain. She took stock of her situation, trying to think calmly and rationally about her options and her prospects. How could she get out of this? Was there anyone out there who could help her?

 

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