The Warrior

by Victoria Scott

  Charlie must sense my hesitation, because she wraps her hands around my cheeks, grazing the slight five o’clock shadow there.

  “Tell me,” she says, as if she already knows without question that something is wrong.

  “It’s nothing,” I mumble before bending to kiss her again. She moves against me for a moment, trying to recapture the moment, but we both seem to stop at once. I grunt with dissatisfaction and pull away a fraction. “Just tell me why now,” I ask, feeling like I’m losing my man card for questioning this at all.

  I want her to say she’s missed me, that she can’t stay away a second longer. Instead, she pushes me gently to the side and sits up. She stares at the wall as if there’s a window there, as if the moonlight is shining down on her. “I missed you.”

  Sweet relief.

  She wraps her arms around her knees and pulls them against herself. Charlie becomes a tight ball of curiosity. “And…” she says, drawing the word out, “And I have this feeling.”

  “What feeling?” I don’t move closer, I just let her be. As I watch, she becomes this statue of beauty, hair draping her back and shoulders.

  Charlie doesn’t answer, and no matter how much I press, she doesn’t say another word. She just sits, immobile. So I remind her of my own burden, the one that says something big happened to me in that training room, and that I’m worried there’s something wrong with me.

  “Is that what you feel like, Charlie?” I say. “Do you feel like something is happening that you don’t understand?”

  She shakes her head. Her velvet hair and the curve of her skull goes right and then left. No.

  I remain quiet and hope she speaks without prompting.

  She does.

  “I have a sense of foreboding I can’t explain,” she whispers. “Like I know what’s going to happen in the end.”

  I can’t help it. I’m off the bed and standing in front of her. I take her face in my hands, and I bend down so that she looks at me. “Tell me what you think is going to happen.”

  Charlie pulls away and tucks herself into bed. I want to push her to tell me, but I know she’s done talking. And right now, what I want more than anything is to have her close. I want to know in this small moment that she’s here and I’m here and the future is so far away.

  So I get into bed without a word. I hold her as if I’m critically ill and she’s the cure. Sometimes I think about how quickly we fell for each other. We didn’t know one another but for a few days when I spoke the words. Even now, I feel like I don’t know half of what I’d like to know about Charlie. But maybe love is like that. Like two souls greet each other and say, it’s you, and then they wait while the bodies and brains catch up. Maybe sometimes, that’s all it takes. A few moments, and then you know.

  I fall asleep with Charlie in my arms.

  When I’m conscious again, Aspen is standing before me, wearing a grey dress that’s torn in too many places to count. I open my mouth to ask if she’s still alive, if she believes our souls have touched and now we can communicate with one another. My body aches for her to admit it’s true.

  But my lips can’t find my tongue, and all that comes out is a dry, hissing sound.

  “Find the sparrow,” Aspen says. Her green eyes widen, and then they begin to fill with blood until the entirety of her eye is a sticky, crimson ball. She covers her face, and I think maybe she’s ashamed. But when she pulls her hands away, there are only empty, black sockets. Aspen opens her palms. Inside are her eyes. The tendons that once stretched into her brain are still attached.

  She smiles as if she’s proud of what she’s done.

  I take the eyes from her and place them one by one into my mouth.

  When I wake up, Charlie is gone. I move to sleep outside of Annabelle’s door, and after I ensure they’re both breathing deeply, I fall asleep again.

  This time, Aspen doesn’t return.

  14

  Purge Your Demons

  Valery rouses me from the floor the next morning. “Get dressed, Dante,” she says in the softest tone I’ve ever heard her use. “Kraven has asked me to bring you to his room.”

  I’m so exhausted that I get up without complaint, grab a cranberry-orange scone, and follow after her. I stop outside of Annabelle’s room and listen. Valery tilts her head. “Charlie will be fine. She’s going to work with Oswald again while we train. She’ll figure out how to harness her ability eventually. Maybe today.”

  I shake my head. “Oswald told you he knows everything about us?”

  Valery grins.

  “That little dude does not know how to keep a secret,” I say.

  Valery clicks down the hallway in piss yellow pumps and a black, knee-length dress. She looks like she’s ready for a dinner party with the Obamas. I’ve seen Red kick off her heels for training. But that’s the extent of her break from formality.

  “You think it’s crazy what Charlie can do with her hands?” I fall in step beside Valery even though I know she likes to be a few paces in front.

  “Oswald said there have been humans in the past who—” she begins.

  “Yeah, yeah, Big Guy’s will and all that,” I finish for her. “But it’s still crazy, right?”

  Red smiles. “It’s crazy.”

  We continue walking through rooms until we arrive at a final hallway that’s brighter than the rest. Bulbs hang from the ceiling in a stiff line down the stretch. It’s almost like they’re pointing to Kraven’s chambers.

  I stop Valery from going any farther. “Hey, Red, have you talked to Max lately?”

  Her shoulders slump. “We’re not allowed to be together right now. You know that.”

  “Haven’t you ever thought about breaking the rules?”

  Her brow furrows, and she shakes her head. “When this is all over, and Max has helped His cause, we’ll be together. The right way. Until then, it’ll be hard, but Max knows I love him.”

  “Well, you might want to do a better job of communicating that. Dude’s losing it.”

  “Don’t say that,” Valery scolds. “The last thing we need is for Kraven to think Max isn’t doing well here. He’s unsettled enough that a collector is among us, but he’s letting him stay for me.”

  I raise my hands. “All right, Max is fine. And what about you, Red? How are you doing?”

  She turns her face away. “It’s unbearable. But I have to believe in His plan. We must focus on the war that’s coming.”

  I do something I don’t normally do. I hug Red. It’s about as awkward as getting caught masturbating. But I persist with my Hug Nation until she sighs and hugs me back.

  “There now, we’re all better, huh?” I slap her on the arm. “Charlie taught me that crap.”

  I leave her standing there, adjusting her formfitting dress, and stride toward Kraven’s door. He must be waiting for me to knock. So I go right on in with a grin on my face. He’s standing near a fireplace that’s large enough to toss full-grown adults into. His dark eyes rage with surprise.

  “What up, Cyborg.” I take in his room. It’s a circular design with a single window at the top of a domed ceiling. The walls are coated in dark maroon paint that’s lighter in places where hands have touched too often. There’s a lamp every five feet around the perimeter and a half-moon table with meticulously labeled books and a map atop it. On the corner of his desk is a silver picture frame. There’s isn’t a photo in it. Also, his bed is round.

  Freak.

  Kraven crosses his arms over his broad chest. I decide my chest is bigger. It may be wishful thinking. “We need to discuss what happened yesterday at training,” he says.

  “When I hulked out?” I wonder if he likes the term, considering how hulkish he is.

  Kraven doesn’t even pretend to smile. “What did you experience?”

  I consider lying, but I want to know what happened in there, too. “I felt this boiling inside. Then it’s like everything just…” I touch all ten fingers together and then spray them out like I’m
imitating an explosion.

  “Have you felt something like that before?”

  I shake my head.

  Kraven moves toward me and studies my face, my body. I’d be a little weirded out if I wasn’t so accustomed to Kraven’s peculiarity. “I believe you’re experiencing heightened abilities because you harbor your soul.” He watches my reaction carefully. “Liberators and collectors are not supposed to have their own souls. Not after they expire.”

  “Well, I do.” I wish I had an apple so I could crunch into it, display my astounding composure.

  Kraven strolls back toward his fireplace. “You may be able to do other things.”

  Hells, yeah! Now he has my attention. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Things above and beyond what liberators are capable of.”

  “Well, we don’t even know what those things are since we’re only focused on training.”

  He ignores my last comment. Nothing new there. “I want you to pay attention to your body’s signals, Dante. Listen to what it’s trying to tell you.” Kraven bows his head and pauses. He seems to be contemplating how to position what’s on his mind. “I asked if you should return your soul,” he says evenly, like he’s weighing his words. “I was told you are to keep it. For now. For fighting.”

  I could be mistaken, but Kraven sounds a touch envious.

  Kraven turns around. His gaze is like an axe in the hand. “In order for you to use your soul in this war, you must submit to His will.”

  “I’m here, aren’t I?” I’m pretending to be cool about this, but inside my lungs shrivel, and my blood drags its feet. Big Guy wants me to keep my soul? Not that I was planning on giving it up. But Kraven asked, and He said I’m to have it?

  Kraven reaches his hand toward the fire, warming it. Or burning it. Not sure which. “What I mean is you need to become His soldier. You need to wash the demons from your mind and body and open yourself to Him.”

  “Yeah, Mr. Clean? We already tried that. It pissed my personal demons right off.”

  “The sirens are planning an attack,” Kraven exclaims, surprising me.

  My voice lowers. It seems as if this admission is an invitation to discuss strategy. I tread carefully. “That doesn’t surprise me. We need to prepare to fight logistically. War is less than two weeks away, right?”

  Kraven nods. He thinks I’m referencing training.

  “I don’t just mean awakening our liberator skills and practicing defense. I mean creating a strategy.” I lick my lips, take a chance, go for the kill. “We need weapons. We need to rally our warriors so that they’re enraged at what’s happened to their soldier and savior. And we need to get Charlie out of here before the worst of it begins.”

  “Weapons,” Kraven growls.

  “Yes, Kraven, weapons. You think the collectors will hesitate to put a bullet in one of our own? In Charlie?”

  “The war between heaven and hell won’t be fought with modern weapons.”

  “Did you know I’ve been seeing Aspen in my dreams? Did you know Charlie and Oswald uncovered a new passage on the scroll? Something about finding a sparrow among the crows in an unburned room. If you sent this guy in to research the scroll, you have to believe it could help us in our battle against the collectors and sirens. Why aren’t we all working on it?”

  “It could be a waste of precious time in the grand scheme of things,” he says. “Better that we have one dedicated professional who’s used to working on this kind of thing rather than eight liberators arguing over it.” Kraven’s face softens. “You really have been seeing the girl in your dreams?”

  “Yep. And last night she told me to find the sparrow. Super weird.”

  “Probably your mind rehashing the newest part of the scroll.” Kraven glances at the oversized fireplace for whatever reason. “Still, I will look into it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Just think about what I said. We need a strategy. We need a plan before we’re infiltrated again and there’s chaos. Just because we’re watching for them, Kraven, doesn’t mean we’re prepared for what will happen.” The liberator remains silent, so I take the opportunity to add, “And your little protégé, Neco? Something’s off about that guy. He told me Aspen was dead. And that Charlie would die, too.”

  “He was triggering your combat skills. That’s all.”

  I grasp his shoulder. It might be the first time I’ve ever touched him without using my fist. “All I’m saying is think about it. Think about an offensive strategy. And think about Neco, too. Can you be sure he’s on our side?”

  Kraven’s head whips around, and a shadow crosses his face.

  It looks a lot like doubt.

  …

  We train most of the day, picking up where we left off and learning how to use our shadow in war. This is Sector 2 in our training regiment, and I’ll be the first to admit it’s pretty damn cool. Paine and I fight across from each other, and sometimes Max and I do, too. We practice bleeping out from view as a fist flies in our direction or as a heel is about to slam down on us. We can sense one another’s cuffs, but when we wink in and out of view, it’s jarring. It gives you a moment, a nanosecond, to avoid being wounded.

  I hate the thought of training. It’s like we’re testing our luck, seeing how much we can learn while the walls cave in around us. The sirens are out there, a collector could reappear at any moment if another vultrip is whispered open. But I’ll admit that every time I learn something new, I gain a morsel of confidence.

  The entire time we train—and even after as I’m eating dinner, one hand on Charlie’s thigh—I think about what Kraven said. That I need to purge my demons to see what I’m fully capable of, a liberator with a soul. It seems like there are too many things I need to do: find a way to protect Charlie from the encroaching sirens, save Aspen, translate a dead language to unlock the scroll, uncover a traitor, and embrace the angel inside me.

  The last thought makes me laugh.

  Me. Dante. An angel.

  Get the hell outta’ here.

  15

  Flesh

  After everyone has fallen asleep, I wake Charlie. I hate the thought of her missing out on much needed rest, but I also know she’ll want to come along to where I’m headed. She slips out of Annabelle’s room, and together, we leave the suite.

  On our way to the library, we pass the humans—the walkers—Kraven has stationed outside our rooms to protect Charlie. It’s dark when we arrive. And I have absolutely no idea where to start. Charlie flips a switch, and the multi-colored bulbs buzz to life overhead.

  “It’s eerie in here at night,” she says.

  I shiver. “When is being surrounded by books not eerie? Or wrong? Or painful?”

  Charlie shakes her head, but I don’t miss the smile on her face.

  I retrieve the list of words from my back pocket and grab the first book I spot. Charlie grabs one, too. Then we sit side by side and flip through them. After twenty minutes, we haven’t found a single word that’s italicized or in heavier handwriting. I grab a few more and browse their pages. No luck there, either.

  On the ninth book, however, my eyes spy something. I’m breezing past the pages when I see it. A word, different from the rest.

  The twelfth star on the seventh moon grows wings. It flies. The farah burns brighter than the rest, and soars higher.

  Farah means star.

  I think?

  “Charlie, check it out.”

  She leans over for a look. “That’s got to be one.”

  “I think so, too.”

  She takes the list and checks. That word isn’t on there. Though Oswald said where there was one, there’d be more. We search the rest of the tome and find several others, some we need, others we don’t. So we surge onward. For another hour, we dig through books, making good progress, all things considered.

  I can’t help but question why Charlie and Aspen were able to read parts of the scroll and not others. Perhaps Big Guy wants to reveal things slowly. Perhaps Big Guy doesn�
��t know what he’s doing. Perhaps Big Guy is a sadist.

  I frown at this last thought. I’m supposed to be all Oh, Big Guy, you and I are cool now. We’re cool. Even though my dad died in my arms. Even though you put that fucking deer in the road that night. Even though you’re supposed to be able to control everything, but you didn’t control that.

  The next book lies heavy in my hands. So do the next dozen. But I continue to probe their guts, hoping one of Oswald’s miraculous words will make an appearance. At some point, I find myself staring at Charlie. Her tongue touches her top lip, and she furiously turns pages. A desperate tugs pulls inside my chest. We have so little time left. And every moment I have with her now feels stolen and impossibly perfect. I want to touch her hand, to kiss those gentle lips. But I don’t. For once, I only watch her in the soft light. Take my girlfriend in without her noticing me staring.

  It’s late into the night when I tear my eyes away from Charlie and flip more pages. Charlie stands to stretch her legs, and I reach out and rub my hand against her calf. She smiles down at me and then gathers a few of the books into her arms. “These are the best books so far. The ones with the most outlying words. I’m going to take them down to Oswald’s and drop them off. Be right back.”

  “I’ll come with you.” I start to get up, and then yawn so fiercely that Charlie laughs.

  “Dante, the walkers are everywhere. I’ll be back in five minutes. Stop treating me like an invalid.”

  “I wasn’t treating you like an invalid. I was treating you like a piece of womanly meat I want to ogle. I was going to watch your booty shake as you walked with all those books.”

  “You’re impossible.” She leans down and kisses me, hardly able to keep the books in her arms.

  After she leaves, I discover another book with the dead language buried inside. I toil to translate the first four words it holds, but when I come to the fifth, something happens. Maybe it’s because I’m delirious from loss of sleep. Maybe it’s because I feel like a human wrecking ball, and I’m hallucinating from the full body ache.