Jaxon Prayer (Jaxon Prayer Trilogy Book 1)

by Rachel West

  Jaxon unfolds the paper, staring intensely, as if he somehow understands the gravity of the situation. The edges are faded and torn, from years of me handling it, the corners yellowed with age.

  “This is a…” he frowns at the paper, “map?” He traces his finger along the giant circle that fills the center of the page, “it is, isn’t it? This is the Haven.” He follows the lines, drawing his fingers out. “The farms, the mines? Did you make this?”

  I stare defiantly into his eyes and my silence is answer enough.

  “It’s a crime, to have a map of anything outside the city,” he says casually. “Why do you have this?”

  My heart, which had been beating unevenly, returns to normal. The fear I felt? It fades away like it never existed. I look at Jaxon, my map, my tiny apartment. If I am already going to die, why not tell the truth?

  “The Praetors took my sister and I am going to save her.” The words explode forth like toxic fumes expelled from my body after years of slowly poisoning my soul.

  My confession hangs in the air like a physical barrier between us.

  “What did she do?” Jaxon asks, “The Praetors do not exactly wander around, stealing people from their bedrooms. Only criminals are sent to the work prisons.”

  “Criminals?” I say, my voice rising so high it breaks, “My sister was ten when they took her. What kind of criminal mastermind do you think she was? Only a kid, Jaxon. Ten years old. And your people sent your goddamn dogs to our house. And they killed my mother and stole my sister and left me all alone.”

  “But--“ for the first time he seems to be at a loss for words. His fingers clutch fitfully as if he can pluck the right words from thin air. “She must have done something.”

  “She found an injured puppy on the street. So she brought it home to help it. But we didn’t have a permit.” The day is burned into my mind. The small yellow dog shaking in one corner. My sister standing over it, protecting the puppy while my mom threw herself in front of the Praetors. Crying and apologizing and begging them to leave us alone. The wet sound as the baton sunk into my mothers skull. The yelp of the puppy as one of the Praetors crushed its body beneath his boot. The cries of my sister as they carried her away.

  “What happened to the dog,” Jaxon asks like it matters.

  “They killed it.”

  Jaxon sets the map down lightly. Smoothing the paper down gently with one hand. “I am exhausted,” he announces, “I will be going to bed now.”

  “Whatever,” I say.

  I throw a heavy, woven blanket at him in imitation of the way he threw his jacket at me earlier.

  Jaxon pauses for a moment, standing over me with the blanket clung awkwardly in his hands. His eyes are shadowed, heavy, like he wants to say something to me but can’t find the words. I turn my head away. I don’t care what he has to say. It’s all meaningless anyway. I will never trust a thing he says. Millennials only know the lies they tell themselves.

  I keep my back to him as I get ready for bed. I drop my clothes to the ground, uncaring if he sees, and crawl into bed wearing only my underwear. In the Hollows there was no privacy.

  The couch squeaks as he crawls onto it. When the noise stops I slap my hand against the light panel above the bed, sending the room into darkness.

  I think I hear him whisper goodnight as my eyes fall shut, but it all fades away to nothing and all I can think is that for the first time in years, I wasn’t alone on my birthday.

  CHAPTER 4

  When I wake, it’s to silence, and it takes me a moment to remember why that feels so unsettling. I sit up, rubbing the grit out of my eyes. “Jaxon,” I say quietly into the hazy dawn light.

  No response. I stand up and squint my eyes at the couch, trying to see if he is still there. He’s not. Only the blanket remains, neatly folded in his place. The bathroom door is open, so I peek around the corner, but he’s not there either.

  The silence of the apartment tells me I’m alone. I look around, but all signs of him are gone. I risk my life to help him and he just disappears?

  Asshole.

  Although, I shouldn’t be surprised. Not like Millennials are a trustworthy bunch. There are only a couple thousand Millennials living in Crescent City. All of them constantly struggling for more power, for more wealth, for the attention of the Great Uniter. Fools, I shake my head. Who would want to live their life like that? Especially when you were next to immortal. Millennials: petty infighting for a thousand years.

  I grab a box of dehydrated milk from the cupboard and mix the powder into a glass of water. I slowly empty my glass of milk as I watch the sun inch its way across the table. It all seems so surreal, that a Millennial had been in my house, sleeping on my couch.

  He wasn’t like I expected. At least not completely. There was the arrogance there, the lording above everyone in a way only being born into wealth can make you. But there was something more. He looked – lost. He looked like he was trying to find his way, and maybe some stupid, irrational decision made him think he could find it here. Of course, then he came to his senses and realized Millennials don’t belong with the rest of us.

  Finally, I’ve had enough. I can’t waste the whole day sitting here. I stand, muscles twinging with stiffness, and begin to clean. The empty water glass into the sink. The spare blanket back under my bed. I find my map sitting on the small table by the couch. I freeze, hardly able to understand. The rough map that I’ve spent years piecing together is scribbled over. The entire thing, nearly unreadable.

  Of course he would do that. Maybe it’s even his way off helping me. A way to say “since you helped me, I won’t report you to the Praetors, but you can’t have this.”

  Tears threaten to fall. I’d spent years on my map. Trying to locate all the farms and mines that make up the government work prisons outside of Haven’s border. Every day, for as long as I could remember I scoured the city for any hint of where they could be.

  I’ve always known saving my sister was a pale hope. Something I dreamed about doing in the hard times to keep myself going. Even getting out of Haven would be nearly impossible. Not with the fifty foot electrified wall circling it. Not with the guards who patrolled day and night to “protect us” from the wilds beyond the city.

  Yet saving her was something I clung to. It was a hope I could never quite shake. Now even that hope is gone. Taken away from me by the Millennials just like everything else in my life. I pick up the map and fling it across the room in anger. The map floats slowly to the floor. Mocking me. I lash out, kicking it with the edge of my foot, when something catches my eye.

  “What?” I mutter into the empty apartment.

  I scramble to catch the large paper, but it reaches the floor before I am able. I crouch down and flip it over. There is another map on the back. Detailed, intricate. It even includes major landmarks within the city as reference points. There are over two dozen marks in the area designated as the wilds. Lines connect them back to the city, with curly numbers designating the distance.

  I flip the paper again and look at my old map. They are close - I recognize instantly some of the farms I’d discovered through word of mouth. But on my map they were approximations - I never truly knew where they were located. It’d always been guesswork.

  I flip it over once more to examine Jaxon’s map. Why would he do this? Because I saved him? Could the map be a trap, is Jaxon setting me up for failure? Or is it something else? I run my fingers along the paths of the map. It makes no sense, what he’s done. There has to be – something. Some ulterior motive. Millennials don’t just help people out of the goodness of their hearts. Millennials don’t even have hearts.

  By the time I finally get up from the kitchen table the sun is high in the sky. For the first time in a very long time I feel hope budding in my chest. Like a golden flower, it grows and grows, until all I can think of is the smile my sister will wear when she sees me for the first time in five years. Despite the doubt, despite the distrust, I believe that thi
s map will lead me to my sister.

  A clash on the fire escape pulls my from my reverie. Has Jaxon returned? My pulse flutters as I picture him crawling through the window. What he’s given me, this map -- it’s the greatest birthday present I have ever received and part of me hopes it is him returning.

  A small sigh of disappointment escapes when it’s Red’s head that pokes in through the window. I don’t know what I was thinking. That Jaxon would return? That he would come back here? The idea that he was here once is impossible to fathom. But a second time -- No, that reaches beyond impossible. Besides, what could I offer him that he can’t just buy for himself?

  “Where is he?” Red grunts without even a greeting. His lips are a grim line as he searches the apartment for any hint of Jaxon. When his eyes pass over the empty couch then the unmade bed in the corner his eyes flash.

  “He’s not here.”

  “Good. I think you should stay with me for a few days. He knows where you live. He could send the Praetors any time.”

  “Don’t be stupid, he has no intention of hurting me.”

  “He’s a Millennial,” Red says slowly, as if speaking to a small child, “They hurt everyone.” His fingers tighten around my counter that all the blood drains from his knuckles. I see the rage in his eyes, the frustration, and I can’t blame him for it because we’ve all seen what the Millennials do. The beautiful girls taken up to Crescent City, only to be returned to their parents years later, broken and beaten down with their tongues cut out and their eyes full of horror. The boys who labor in the Great Houses and by fifteen could pass for fifty.

  “It’s fine,” I say again, but I can’t meet Red’s eyes. He’s right. I know he’s right. Red’s the practical one, the smart one. He’s kept me out of danger more than a few times. “I mean, you’re right. But --“ I try to find the words to explain what I am feeling. “--I think he’s different.”

  “None of them are different. You haven’t seen them like I have Evie. In the Coliseum. They cheer as we die. Bloodthirsty as the worst criminals in the Hollows.” Red drops down into one of the chairs at my kitchen table.

  “Look,” I stretch out the map on the table in front of him. “He made this – he gave this to me. Why would he do that if he was planning on hurting me? This could get him in as much trouble.”

  “Get rid of that.”

  “What?”

  “Get rid of it,” Red says. He snatches the map off the table. “Throw it away.”

  “No. Give it back.” I reach for the map but Red holds it hostage in hand. “Seriously. It’s mine.”

  “You can’t honestly be thinking about using this? The Millennials are the reason you lost your family. Do you really want their help getting your sister back?”

  “I’ll do whatever it takes to get Annie back. I don’t care.” I snatch the map from Red’s hands and fold it protectively in my arms.

  “You’re going to get yourself killed getting involved with Millennials.”

  “I’m not getting involved with them. Jaxon was only passing through. He’s gone now. It’s over and I’ll just use what he left behind. Nobody’s worse off for it.”

  “You’re an idiot,” Red says, but he ruffles my hair affectionately and I know he won’t hold it against me. “I have to stop by the Coliseum today,” Red tells me, “Want to come along? Might be good to get out of here for a while.” He looks suspiciously around the apartment as if he suspects Jaxon will jump out from behind the couch at any moment.

  I follow his eyes and look around my lonely little apartment. When Jaxon was here there was something different about it. Exciting. Invigorating. Now it only feels empty. “Sure,” I shrug. I have nothing better to do and maybe Red is right, maybe I do need to get out. I grab the jacket Jaxon gave me and pull it over my t-shirt. Red’s mouth twists, but he doesn’t say a word about it.

  Leaving my apartment is like leaving something behind. Like there is something I should be doing but I’ve forgotten. As we walk away, I turn for one last look. The old building, lilting to one side from age. The window’s bright and shiny but surrounded by old, dark stone.

  “What’s wrong?” Red asks.

  “Nothing,” I quickly turn back to him, “I don’t know.”

  “Cheer up, kiddo. Are you sure you don’t want to stay with me for a few days? It’ll make you feel better. And safer.”

  “No,” I say. “It’s not that. It’s just that--” I snap my mouth shut. I can’t find the words I’m looking for. The words to explain the heaviness sitting in my heart. Like a missed opportunity. Like there was a chance for something but now it’s lost.

  As we walk towards the Coliseum the sun’s light is stolen away by grey clouds. A mist begins to fall from the sky – not quite rain, but enough to coat everything with a thin wet sheen. I tug the hood of Jaxon’s jacket up and I am surrounded by the scent of him. I wrinkle my nose, because I should hate it, I should hate him. He’s a Millennial. But part of me wants to ask him why he made the map for me. Why he was even here in the first place. None of it is very Millennial-like. They aren’t known for their altruism. No – Millennials are only known for the pain they cause the rest of us.

  I shake my head, physically attempting to dislodge my thoughts. My mind is running in circles and it’s gotten me nowhere. Instead I try to focus on the city around me. On Red who keeps glancing at me from the corner of his eyes like he thinks I’m about to lose my mind.

  “What?” I snap, but I wear a smile because I know he’s just concerned.

  “You’re quiet.”

  I shrug because he’s right. All I want to talk about is how I met a Millennial last night. A real Millennial – who slept on my couch and drank from my glasses. I don’t understand how Red can do anything else? How he can think about anything else?

  “Stop,” Red throws his arm out to stop be from moving forward.

  “What?” I ask but Red shushes me so I shut my mouth. One minute he tells me I’m too quiet, and the next he tells me to be quiet. I shake my head.

  “We should go a different way.”

  “What? Why?” I stand on my tiptoes to peer beyond Red but there is nothing there.

  “Listen.”

  He’s right. I tilt my head to one side and coming from just ahead of us is a distant sound. Singing? No – Chanting.

  “Come on,” Red grabs my arm and try’s to pull me back the way we came.

  “No, I want to see.”

  “Evie, don’t get involved.”

  “Just a quick look,” I promise then dart to the side too quick for Red to stop me. Red may be stronger – but no one is faster than me.

  I keep to the edges of the road as I follow the sound. Refuse and broken bits of glass try to trip me up, but I have lived in this city my whole life, and I know how to move through it. Red’s steps follow from behind, heavier than mine and slowly falling behind.

  I slow down enough to let him catch up. Even in the middle of the day it’s safer to have someone with you on the streets. Praetors or cutthroats, sometimes it’s hard to say who you should be more afraid of.

  Red opens his mouth to say something, but he takes one look at me and shuts it once again. Good. He should know better than to argue with me. All I want is a quick look at what’s going on then we can be on our way.

  I can hear it now, the chanting, we are only a block away, maybe two. But still, it’s impossible to make out what they are saying. Too many voices; fifty of them, maybe a hundred, all screaming the same words over and over.

  I inch forward and peer around the corner of a building. There, at the end of the cross section a crowd of people gather in the small square. Beyond them lies one of the many prisons throughout the city. A small building – only ever meant to hold prisoners temporarily before sending them to the large workcamps beyond the wall of Haven.

  “Come on, we need to get out of here.” Red tugs lightly on my shoulder, pulling me back a step.

  “What are they doing?”

/>   “Being stupid.”

  “Hold on,” I root my legs to the ground, preventing Red from pulling me back further. The cold cement of the building next to us digs into my cheek as I peer out at the crowd.

  One of them, a tall, hawkish man with dark hair brushing the edge of his shoulders, appears to be their leader. His cloak, blacker than the surrounding buildings, snaps angrily with each movement. He moves smoothly through the crowd like a dancer – halting quickly by each person, and whispering what must be words of encouragement into their ears.

  “Look,” Red points to one of the protestor’s signs that is visible. “They are protesting the arrests of their loved ones.”

  “Why? It won’t do anything.” I think of Annie – how I’d done nothing to protect her. How I’d been a coward and let them take her without stepping in... But I’m doing something now. I have my map, and soon I will have a plan and then I will rescue my sister. Besides, what these people are doing – it’s stupid, all it will do is bring attention down on them. Soon enough they’ll all be joining their loved ones in the prisons.

  “Sometimes people need to speak up to prove they still have a voice,” Red says. “We’ve watched long enough. The Praetors will be here soon. Anyone in this area will get arrested. We need to get out of here.”

  “Too late.” I point up to the sky, where a dozen h-cycles circle the building. The machines run quietly, the only sound the faint hum of their motors. Light reflects off the shiny exteriors and guns mounted on each side are warnings to any that get too close. But it’s the Praetors that come by ground that are truly terrifying. The short, clipped sound of their boots as they march in formation towards us. An inescapable force. A power that can pressure from all sides until you are nothing but a tiny bug squashed between their fingers.

  Suddenly the screens on all the neighboring buildings change to flashing red. Dark text hundreds of feet tall scrolls across them and orders the protesters to the ground. One of the Praetors on his hovering h-cycles shouts the same message over a microphone.