by Maura Milan
She knew their father was his weakness, so she kept talking. Trying to chip into that hard armor of his. “You can deny it,” she continued. “But I know this is all linked to him.”
Ia had barely finished her sentence when Einn quick-stepped toward her, so fast that he was a blur. She skirted away, but he was already two steps ahead and right in her space, a fist striking her abdomen. The wind flew out of her lungs, and she gasped, aching for the oxygen to return.
She had been fighting all her life, but with other people. Never with her brother, at least not in a real fight. They had sparred in the past, but pulled their punches so they would never get hurt. So it surprised her, receiving the full force of her brother’s attacks. She knew that he was stronger than she was, but this was the first time she actually felt it.
Ia raised her chin, watching him approach her. She had to do something to gain an edge. Even if it wasn’t completely fair or brave. Still gasping, she tapped the controls of her windpack. She lifted up into the air until she thought she was too high for him to reach—but with Einn, she could never be too sure.
There was something different about him. As if the air around him was on fire. She couldn’t explain it; she just felt it in her blood.
“Why would I ever want to kill the man who gave me so many gifts?” Einn said.
She stared at him, trying to dissect the meaning of his words. The question in her eyes soon became a look of absolute horror as she watched him bring his palms together in ritual, something dark swirling in between his fingers. A tear. Like the one that ripped across the sky earlier. It only took a second, and he was gone.
She was too late to notice that another small tear had appeared above her.
And in that moment, Einn dropped through.
What the mif?
He dove toward her, grabbing her. With his added weight, they fell, the windpack shuddering as it tried to keep the two of them afloat. It happened so fast that she couldn’t shift away. She grappled against him, but it was no use. Within seconds, he ripped the windpack off her.
And he simply let go.
Her eyes wide in alarm, she reached out to him, even though she knew he wouldn’t grab her hand.
Instead, his fingers shaped another spatial tear that he disappeared into.
Then all that was left was sky, her hands now reaching for the sun. She knew the ground was coming for her.
Oh Deus, she whispered. Oh Deus, give me the strength to survive this.
The ground swallowed her whole, the impact shaking through her from her neck to her spine. She was still breathing, but she could tell that she was broken. Her body and mind were in shock; she couldn’t feel anything, not even the pain from the breaks in her bones. Not yet, but she knew they were there.
She took in quick, rapid breaths. She couldn’t move her neck, no matter how hard she tried. A shadow blurred into her line of sight. She blinked so her eyes could focus. The lines sharpened as she pieced together the details of her brother’s face. His stony gray eyes. The hard line of his jaw.
Einn leaned in.
Memories flashed through her mind of the last time they’d seen each other. In the White Room, where he had knifed her in the stomach. She looked up at him just like she had back then as he watched and waited for her to die.
This time, instead of slicing a knife through her belly, he slipped his hands underneath her arms and hoisted her up. Her body was still too stunned to fight back. As her world righted itself, she saw Brinn and Liam still standing at the edge of the rooftop.
Why hadn’t they run?
She wanted to scream at them to leave, but then she caught sight of Brinn’s eyes, wide and weary, but not from the panicked frenzy of today. A terrible sadness weighing in their depths. Not fatigue, but as if she was done.
“She can’t protect you anymore,” Einn said. It took Ia a moment to realize he was talking to Brinn.
She felt his hands move to her neck, tightening one hand against her chin. She let out a slow breath, knowing quite well what the next seconds would bring. A twist and final snap.
But before he could make his move, she caught a glimmer at the edge of Einn’s ship.
A ghost?
No. Camouflage.
She followed the ripple of movement, still warping the light around it so that it maintained the illusion. Suddenly, the glimmer fell, the camouflage cascading downward to reveal the outline of a white skull facing her. Goner. His arm raised, the pistol pointing straight at Einn.
Was he here to help her? Deus, was she actually going to survive this?
But then, Goner’s arm shifted slightly. The pistol cracked at the air, and an electric bullet surged through the gap between them. Her eyes widened as she realized its trajectory. Goner’s movements were never an accident.
“Bastard,” she breathed. The electric bullet tore through the light fabric of her suit and into her flesh.
Her body slid back down to the ground, and she crumpled to her side.
Einn turned to Goner. “What was that for?”
As she gasped out on the ground, she noted the sound of her brother’s voice. Casual. Not at all surprised that Goner had shown up.
“Just finishing things up for you,” Goner said.
They were working together.
“You mung,” she hissed, her voice thin like a deflating balloon. It took all of her strength to raise her chin to look at him. “I thought we were on the same side.”
Goner’s eyes flicked down to hers, and the thin black line between his lip curled upward in a devil’s grin. He turned to Einn. “You should go. Looks like someone found us.”
Einn looked over his shoulder, but Ia couldn’t move her neck to see what he’d spotted on the horizon. A muscle ticked across Einn’s jaw, and she knew he was annoyed.
“I’ll take care of her,” Goner said, his hand returning to his pistol, a look of giddiness rippling across his face. He had wanted to be the one to end her for years.
Einn glanced down at Ia, his eyes without a trace of empathy. “Do it right,” he whispered to Goner.
Her brother turned to the two cadets standing by in her periphery. Ia had taught both of them to fight, but there they were, waiting to accept their fate. Unless…did they actually want to hear what Einn had to say?
“My offer still stands, the same one I extended to Liam,” he said to Brinn. His voice softened just enough to be charming. “You are welcome on this ship.”
Her brother’s face remained controlled, from the tension in his jaw to the darkness in his eyes. Brinn was too smart to believe him, Ia reminded herself. She’d be able to see right through it. Her gaze wandered over to Brinn, the world burning behind her.
Don’t be fooled by him, she thought. It was too hard to speak, but she wanted to scream it.
Don’t.
But even if she said it, would it matter? From the look in Brinn’s eyes, Ia knew that she had already made up her mind. What had happened, Ia wanted to ask her, between now and when she last saw her? What was Brinn thinking?
She realized now that was something she should have been asking all along. The gap between them had been growing larger and larger, when it could have been bridged with that one question.
As Brinn made her way to Einn’s ship, Ia called out with a gasping breath. “Why?”
Brinn stopped. She looked back at Ia, her eyes cast in shadows.
“I’ve followed the rules all my life,” Brinn said, her voice quiet. There was a hard edge that had never been there before. “It’s time for me to break them.”
Ia’s heart cracked as she watched Brinn walk away, her navy-blue hair dark against the fire-stained sky.
When Tarver had disappeared up the ramp and into the ship, her brother crouched to look down at her. “That was easy,” he said. “I didn’t think she’d just leave you here.”
His words stung. If she had the strength and her mouth wasn’t so dry, Ia would have spit in his face.
Ein
n rose. Next to him, Goner stood taller, his build broader than her brother’s. But the devil wasn’t known for his strength; he was known for his clever cruelty. Einn clapped Goner on the shoulder. “Once you’re done, meet at the rendezvous point.”
And her brother made his exit.
Deus, if she died today, the last thing she was going to see was Goner’s face.
When he was close enough, she tried to grab the fabric of his cloak, but she couldn’t lift her arm. Her mouth fell open into a soundless laugh.
“I don’t think now’s the time to be in fine spirits,” Goner told her.
A hoarse whisper came out of her. “Einn beat me. Not you. Remember that.”
Goner furrowed his brow for the slightest of moments. She watched him as he tried to hide the shift in his expression, which was hard to do with the skull pattern on his skin bending along with it.
“I guess I’ll have to live with that,” Goner said. He loaded his pistol with a fresh bullet and pointed the gun. “Now hold still.”
With his finger on the trigger, he fired.
CHAPTER 20
KNIVES
KNIVES KEPT HIS DISTANCE as he flew through the demolished skyline, hiding in the plumes of smoke rising from the fallen buildings that scattered the grounds of Calvinal. It was almost impossible to see, but he managed to keep an eye on Einn’s cross-shaped ship, which had landed on a rooftop in the center of the city.
Knives had turned off the navigation and comms systems in case Einn was scanning the area for other jets like his own. Without the help of his onboard, Knives had to rely on his sight and reflexes. And he laughed, because that was what Ia had wanted for him all along. He remembered the scowl that had torn across her face as they squabbled about upgrading his entire system. And suddenly, he desperately wanted another one of those moments with her. Even if she didn’t care for him at all. Even if she had already lost whatever interest she had in him. He still wanted to see her again.
But to do that, he had to get through this.
The cross jet had been parked for a while, and from that distance he could see the outline of figures on the rooftop, but as he circled closer, he noticed that the roof was a little less crowded than the last time he’d been able to glimpse it through the smoke.
Knives’s focus shifted to the cross jet, a glow radiating from underneath its wings. Its thrusters were activated. It was about to take off.
Knives ramped up his speed, his fingers flying to turn all of his systems back on. At this point, stealth didn’t matter. His target was going to get away before he could get answers and before he could pay him back for what he’d done to Bastian. He’d made the choice to leave Nema and the rest of his squadron behind, so he had to take Einn down. So his actions could mean something. If not, then he was a coward for leaving them, just like his father had warned.
“Kai, scan that ship. Are the force fields active?”
The display shifted to sensor mode so all he saw was the dark outline of the enemy ship, a cross slashing against his display.
“Negative.”
Perfect. He accessed his weapons menu, lowering the rail guns that were mounted on each wing.
The HUD flashed before him, squares centering on the main target points on the enemy ship. He needed to stop that jet before it was airborne. He flipped over the protective glass that covered the weapons trigger on the right grip. His thumb hovered over it, eyes narrowing at the target. But then he noticed who was left on the rooftop. Two people.
His eyes glanced up from the HUD and peered through the cockpit windows. A cloaked figure, carrying someone in his arms.
She had short black hair and wore a regulation RSF flight suit, the same one he had seen on a girl who had jumped off a Nauticanne battleship a few hours ago.
His thumb readjusted, away from the weapons trigger, both hands now fully gripped onto the steering wheel.
Below, Einn’s jet took off, its force field flickering on with a sheen of blue before turning clear. It took a matter of seconds for it to disappear high into the stratosphere.
Knives had missed his moment, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was her.
He veered toward the rooftop. The figure spotted his jet and quickly whisked Ia to the edge of the roof.
Knives circled around, aiming his rail guns for the ladder hanging off the side. He fired, aiming purposely at the ledge below to stop Ia’s captor from going any further. A flurry of broken cement and dust flew up into the air, and the ladder, now detached from the ledge, lurched as it toppled over.
The man had nowhere to go. He could have climbed down on his own, but not with Ia in his arms.
Across the gap, Knives stared down his foe. For the first time, Knives could see him up close. The skull on his face was impossible to mistake.
“Goner,” he breathed. One of the most dangerous criminals in all the Commonwealth. He was wanted for the destruction of Commonwealth property and resources. And that didn’t mean spray-painting on the sidewalk or hacking holo-ads to play jokes. It meant completely demolishing whole Commonwealth laboratories and information hubs. He was very good at destroying buildings and the people inside them. And Knives knew that it was one of Goner’s life missions to beat Ia at all costs.
The black hollows around Goner’s eyes made the lavender hue of his irises stand out, sparking like the air before the fury of lightning. His lips curled in a dare, and without warning, he jumped off the ledge.
It took Knives a second to react. No normal person could jump off a ten-story building without a windpack or a glider and survive.
Knives tapped on the camera at the bottom hull of his ship, and the display immediately tracked Goner’s fall, steady and certain. He didn’t even flinch when he landed; it was as if every bone and muscle in his body was built to absorb the impact. It was enough to make Knives pause, to thumb through his memory for everything he’d read about the criminal. There was nothing in any records that said Goner would be able to withstand a fall like that. It made him wonder what other skills and abilities the reports had missed.
Knives flew his jet to the opening of the alleyway, quickly blocking off his evader’s only exit. He opened the cockpit and jumped out, not bothering to even lower his ladders to the ground.
Knives raised his pistol, aiming right for the skull on Goner’s face. “Don’t move. There’s no way out.”
But of course, Goner moved. As if it was second nature, Goner reached for the edge of his cape, and as he swung his arm around, he covered Ia’s body. The colors on the fabric started to ripple, shifting like a chameleon to blend into the environment. The black fabric transformed from the gray, cracked texture of the pavement to the brown-and-white spackle of the brick wall in the background. His armor and cape disappeared, along with the rest of him. Last to go was his face, the skull flickering into the nothingness, as though he didn’t exist.
“What on Ancient Earth?” Knives mumbled.
To the right, he heard footsteps across pavement, the skittering of gravel. Knives turned, but too late. He felt an elbow strike right at his spine. Knives tried to fight the pain, swiveling to the side with his pistol in hand, his ears craning for any signs of movement.
Nothing.
He tilted his head.
The rustle of debris near a cylindrical trash compressor on the right. Knives adjusted and fired, guessing where his attacker would be.
The bullet missed.
A clatter of footsteps came crashing toward him. An invisible hand gripped his arm, crushing the bones in his wrist. The pain seared through him, so intense he saw stars. His pistol fell from his grip.
Then his attacker let go, leaving Knives to clutch his injured wrist with his good hand. His pistol rose in midair as Goner, still invisible, picked it up and hurled it to the other side of the alley. Footsteps clicked away, the thud of Goner’s soles echoing throughout the alleyway.
“Don’t hurt her,” Knives pleaded before the footsteps could completel
y fade away. “Please. Just let her go.”
The footsteps stopped. Goner’s skull appeared, looking back at him, the rest of his body in a translucent haze between the visible and the unseen. One black socket was larger than the other, as if he were raising an eyebrow. “You’re Cōcha’s friend?”
“I am,” Knives said.
Goner deactivated the rest of his camouflage.
He stepped closer. From this distance, Knives could see that the skull on his face wasn’t paint at all. It was very much a design etched into his skin.
Goner kneeled. With a free hand, he lifted the edge of his cape. Underneath, Ia lay still.
Knives glanced down at her. Cuts and scrapes peeked through tears in her suit, and her right arm was crooked as if broken. His heart caved in at the sight of her. It was only when he saw the rise and fall in her chest that he could let out a sigh in relief. “She’s alive,” Knives said, and then his voice turned to a growl. “You piece of mung. She told me about you, that you want her dead.”
Knives lunged after him, but Goner raised one of his hands to keep distance between them. “Ia and I have had our fights. But unfortunately, this wasn’t me.” He glanced down at her. “I had to sedate her before she went into shock. She needs medical attention.”
Goner lay her body gently on the ground and then stood up to leave.
“Freeze,” a voice yelled out. A few feet away from them, Angie Everett stood, her face pale but her arm steady, pointing the pistol that Goner had thrown to the side.
But Goner didn’t even flinch, as though bullets didn’t matter to him. He nodded down at Ia, unconscious on the ground. “You have a choice,” he said, addressing Knives. “You either help her, or you try to catch me. If I were you, I’d make sure she lives.”
“Why are you doing this? I thought you were enemies.”
“Funny,” he chimed. “I could say the same about you two.”
Knives looked over at Angie, who—even with a pistol in her hand—was on the verge of collapsing. “Everett, lower your gun,” he ordered.