ashen city (Black Tiger Series Book 2)

by Sara Baysinger

  I look away. He’s right. That day he took me to the chapel, I refused his offer to help take down Titus, and now here I am, trying to do it on my own. Chief Whitcomb’s car draws nearer. I tighten my grip around my machete.

  “How long would working with you take, Rain?” I ask. “Months? Years of planning? I want to know where my dad and brother are now. If I wait any longer…they might die.” If they’re not already dead.

  “So you’re willing to give your life up for two people rather than an entire nation?”

  My mouth drops open. “Who are you to accuse me? You turned me in to Titus, Rain. You completely betrayed me. You let him capture me to burn me on the Rebels Circle, so why the shoddy inferno would I ever want to work with you? Why would I entrust my life to you, of all people? You only look out for yourself, so no. I do not want to work with you. Not when, at any given moment, you could stab me in the back again.”

  His gray eyes flicker, but he doesn’t look away. In fact, he doesn’t even look sorry he betrayed me. “Don’t forget that I saved you, too.”

  Rage engulfs me, and I open my mouth to object, but am cut off by the sound of more trumpets. My heartbeat pounds against my chest, my ears, my fingertips. Almost time.

  Rain rolls his eyes. “Fine. Go avenge your family. But let me offer one bit of advice.”

  I grit my teeth. Chief Whitcomb’s car is passing now.

  “Hurry,” I say.

  “Leave your machete behind.”

  I glare at him. “Are you out of your shoddy mind?”

  “If you approach Whitcomb with a weapon, he’ll have every reason to kill you without you getting a word in. Approach him with the mere inquiry of where your family is, and he may be more lenient.”

  I tighten my grip on my machete, considering his words.

  “If he’s the one who burned your fields,” Rain says. “Then he took your family for the sole purpose to draw you back to himself. He might be willing to strike up a deal. Your captivity for their freedom.”

  “Why would he even want me?” I ask. “What exactly is his problem with me? I thought my records were cleared. I thought he knew I was innocent.”

  “You’re a threat, Ember Carter. As long as you have Alpha Blood, you will always be a threat. And carrying a weapon to the chief will only put a larger target on your back as well as your family’s. So,” he says, holding out his hand. “Give me the machete.”

  I glance back at the road. The chief’s vehicle has passed, but I still have time to catch up.

  “Give it to me, Ember.”

  Why does Rain care what happens to me or my family? Why does he care if I take the weapon or leave it? Didn’t he just turn me in two weeks ago? But the jeep is getting away, and as much as I hate to admit it, Rain, the chauvinistic jackal, is right. Defenders will kill me on the spot if I approach the chief with a weapon.

  “Fine,” I say, pulling it out. “But promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I left my horse, Maggie, by the creek in the park.”

  He snorts out a laugh. “You rode a horse here?”

  “Yes. And I need her returned safely and promptly to the Garden. Preferably to Old John, the dairy farmer, since he knows how to take care of large animals.”

  “Okay. Return Maggie to Old John. Anything else, Chief?”

  I glare at him as I hand him the machete. “Nope.”

  “Very good.” He slides it into his own belt, then grins at me, but something shifts in his eyes. He almost looks…sad. “Now. Go get ‘em, tiger,” he says softly.

  “Tiger? Really?”

  He lifts a brow. “The chief is getting away.”

  I suddenly can’t breathe. “Wish me luck.”

  “As always.” He bows dramatically and steps out of my way, and I push through the thick crowd, then break into a run to catch up to the enemy.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I know that in order to be inconspicuous, I have to be obvious. If I look too secretive, the Defenders will have every reason to kill me. But if I approach the chief as though this were a show, a planned event for his ridiculous parade, they might not kill me. So when I reach Titus’s jeep, I leap into the road right in front of it and bow dramatically.

  “Chief Whitcomb! My beloved brother! I would like to have a word with you.”

  The entire procession stops. The shock registering on his face is priceless, but he covers it up with his deceptively warm smile and his voice comes on a speaker system.

  “And who,” he says, his lucid voice echoing through he street, “are you?”

  Who…am I? Is he blind?

  “Ember Carter, your Highness. Your—your sister.”

  Whispers of surprise ripple through the crowd, almost like they’ve already forgotten that I even exist.

  “Miss Ember Carter is on her float,” Titus says. “I don’t understand why you disgrace her by claiming her name.”

  Her float? Great. The actress playing my part. Rain warned me. I glance down the street, expecting some poor attempt at my look-alike. Instead, my heart stops completely, because the girl on the float looks exactly like me.

  And, Holy Crawford, is she doing a good job at playing my part.

  She’s short and petite like me, with long, dark hair and olive skin. Wearing a green toga and her face covered in makeup, she looks more like the Frankfort version of me than I do at this very moment—with my cotton pants and wool shirt and hair pulled back in a braid.

  Well. Son of a jackal. Titus was prepared. For all the Patricians know, I’m a farmer looking to get attention. The Defenders can kill me; it’ll just add to the excitement of the parade, because according to my beloved fans, Ember Carter is on her float, waving boldly, with a winning smile plastered on her noble face.

  My stomach tightens until I feel like I’m going to throw up. And then my veins ignite. I utter a curse and glare at Whitcomb. He’s grinning so big, all his perfect white teeth showing and all I want to do is smack that arrogant smile off his Patrician face. He gestures at the Defenders and they aim their guns.

  Splendid. Just splendid. Everything is just working out exactly how I did not want it to go.

  “Go back home, farmer,” Whitcomb says. “There’s nothing for you here.”

  “What home?” I shout with a terrified laugh. I look back at the crowd and shout loud enough for them to hear. “I am Ember Carter. That girl on the float is some…actress. But I am the real thing.” The confusion on their faces feeds my confidence. “I went home to my orchard two weeks ago to continue my career in the Community Garden. But your glorious chief here sees me as a threat, y’know, being his sister and all, and he burned down my father’s apple orchard—” My voice chokes off, and I swallow hard.

  “Go back home, Prot,” someone shouts.

  “You’re ruining the parade!”

  “At least try and look nice next time you try to steal the show.”

  I catch a glimpse of Rain shaking his head, massaging his temples like I completely let him down.

  “Don’t you understand?” I shout. “Chief Whitcomb has you all blinded. He’s tricked you into believe she is me.”

  “Fame whore.”

  “Liar!”

  “Whether or not you believe me,” I shout, my anger fueling confidence. “You should know that people are starving in the rest of Ky, and Titus is doing absolutely nothing about it. Those dying in the prison are completely innocent, and Titus has everyone brainwashed! And he took—he took my family.” I turn to face Whitcomb. He’s not smiling now. “Where are they?” I ask.

  “Arrest the criminal,” he says.

  Defenders are on me in an instant, pulling my arms behind my back and pulling me off the street. I almost succumb to their power, when I remember my Alpha Blood and what I came here to do.

  I twist around and look at the Defender on my left. “Release me.”

  He does.

  I twist around and look at the other one. “Release me.”


  He does.

  I am invincible.

  I look between both of them. “Kill your chief.”

  They nod. Draw their guns. Turn around.

  And open fire on Titus.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The sound of firing guns and screaming Patricians makes my pulse skyrocket, and before my eyes, the two Defenders fall dead at my feet.

  Oh.

  Oh no.

  What have I done? Two new Defenders are grabbing my arms and guiding me toward the jeep. And guilt, guilt, guilt eats me from the inside until I want to shrivel up like a leaf in autumn and be blown away by the wind.

  Why did I do that? Why did I think it would work? Instead of getting Titus killed, I turned the Defenders against themselves. They didn’t even know what they were doing. They blindly followed my orders like they always do Titus’s.

  Two lives lost at my hands, and I realize I’m not any better than my brother.

  The crowd parts as the Defenders roughly guide me toward a nearby jeep. I don’t even try to get away. I’m too disgusted with myself. Too afraid the Defenders will pay if I somehow do manage to escape.

  The music of the parade starts up again, like nothing happened. Titus’s jeep continues down the road, his windshield hardly scratched from the bullets. Bulletproof windows. Of course he has bulletproof windows. Why did I think the Defenders could just kill him?

  Another Defender opens the door for me. His skin is darker than the average olive skin tone, and he’s not much older than me. I would recognize his face anywhere. It still haunts my nightmares. It’s a brutal reminder of my first week in prison.

  “Captain Mcallister.” His name falls from my lips like a curse. “You know who I am. Tell these people who I am. They might listen to you.”

  Even as I speak the words, I realize, Mcallister is a Defender. Defenders, like everyone else, are brainwashed. He probably doesn’t even know who I am, he’s been forced into thinking the actress playing my part is the real Ember.

  My heart sinks. His eyes don’t even meet mine as he mindlessly straps an electroband around my wrist, then shoves me into the jeep. “Congratulations, criminal. You’ve earned yourself an arresting.” He holds the door open a moment and he looks at me for the first time. “Orders are to have you shot first thing in the morning.”

  Shot? Shot? And no one will be around to speak for me this time, because according to the Patricians, I’m on my float in the parade. This plan didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped. But didn’t Rain warn me?

  “What about Dad?” I dare to ask, as if Mcallister would have the answers. “Elijah? Where’s my family?” But Mcallister slams the door in my face without an answer and takes the driver’s seat.

  I glance out the window at the crowd. The Defenders’ bodies have already been cleaned up, forgotten by the Patricians who now cheer on the parade. Titus is always one step ahead. He’s got so many people compelled and brainwashed, including the Patricians, there’s no way anyone could take him down without setting a match to the whole country. Why did I think I would succeed?

  My look-alike’s float rolls by, and the crowd goes into a frenzy. She looks at me as her float passes, and I’m struck by how similar we appear. I can’t read her. She looks curious more than anything. She breaks eye contact and begins waving confidently at the crowd, her mouth breaking into a big smile that reveals perfect white teeth.

  And I begin to hate her. If the people knew me at all, I mean really knew me, they would know that was not my style. I was more mopey than smiley. I would be gripping the ledge of the float in fear, not waving confidently.

  But somehow, for Patricians, siding with the chief is easier than siding with some no-name fame whore wearing cotton pants and a wool shirt. Anyone who shows any sign of disbelief in the chief will be killed. Just like me. So why risk it? But if the Patricians’ eyes were truly opened to the realities outside the cupola walls, if they knew the Proletariats were brainwashed into slavery, they could rise against the chief, and Titus wouldn’t stand a chance.

  Just like Rain said in the chapel.

  It’d be so much easier to take down the country if they were on our side. But the Patricians are so incredibly stupid. Too scared to believe the truth. Too quick to close their eyes to the problems of this corrupt government.

  And I’m paying the price of their blindness. Dad and Elijah paid the price for their blindness. Leaf and Judah paid the price, and so do too many criminals and Defenders.

  We drive for a while through the city. I recognize the tall, round glass building from blocks ahead. Frankfort Prison. Midmorning sun glints off the windows, making the building look beautiful and glorious. But I know better. This is a place of death, not beauty. A place crawling with hungry black tigers and Defenders.

  “Tonight is your last night alive,” Mcallister says. “Make it count.”

  That’s a strange thing for a brainless Defender to say.

  “How can I make it count?” I snap. “I’ll be stuck in a cell all night until I get shot in the morning.” By Titus himself, no doubt. And thanks so much Mcallister for reminding me of that. As if the grief of losing my family wasn’t enough.

  “Do you know the Keeper’s Lullaby?” Mcallister asks quietly as he drives.

  What the— “Yes.”

  “Sing it to yourself tonight. You may find comfort.”

  “Oh. Thanks, Mcallister. Are you sure you don’t want to hang around and sing it to me? I’m sure your baritone voice will bring comfort to everyone in the prison.” I snort. “Maybe you should bring a nightlight and a tambourine as well.”

  He keeps his eyes on the road, but I can see a smile tugging at his lips. Such a Defender. Just like him to mock me on the night before my death…like Titus and all the other Patricians. He might not be as stiff as the other Defenders, but he’s definitely just as cruel and brainless.

  When we arrive at the prison, Mcallister goes through the rituals that we went through at the beginning of my stay here. Was that just a month ago? So much has happened. He shows the guards his badge. He leads me inside, down the concrete stairs to the underground prison that smells like the sewage pits of hell. I forgot how depressing it was here. The sound of weeping and clinking chains makes my blood grow cold. By the time we reach our destination, I have no idea where we are or how to get out. This place is a maze, and only the Defenders know their way around. It’s been stamped into their brains during the brainwashing process, no doubt. We enter a large chamber where all the so-called rebels are kept together in one room.

  Mcallister presses a button. The electric shield goes down, and he sends me to my own cell, but before he releases my arm, he mutters, “Remember what I said. Sing.” Then he releases me and walks out of the cell, the electric shield going up behind him.

  I grit my teeth. My hands are trembling, whether it’s from rage, regret, or just plain hunger, I don’t know. I begin pacing from one side of the cell to the other, like a caged tiger, thinking of my family, wondering if they’re still alive. And I realize that, if they’re not, it’s my fault they’re dead. My fault for returning to the orchard. My fault for putting the spotlight on them because of my shoddy Alpha Blood. I think of Judah and how he died protecting me. I think of Leaf and how he was forced to take his life just for being my friend. I think of the two Defenders who lost their lives today because I didn’t want to lose mine.

  And all these thoughts, thoughts, thoughts build up in my brain until I feel like nothing. Less than nothing. More useless than dirt and a lot uglier. Because I’m so selfish. So thoughtless. So incredibly inconsiderate. I could have been a good little girl like Forest kept suggesting. I could have laid low, pleased the chief, and played the Patrician part, and maybe all these people would still be alive.

  But I wanted so badly to get home. And all these people paid for that selfish desire.

  Tears sting my eyes, and I slump against the wall, slowly sinking down to the cold, hard floor. I can’t stop the
tears. I can’t stop the grief. The regret. The disgust with Titus and even more disgust with myself. It rises up and chokes me. It chokes my soul.

  And I suddenly feel like that bullet that’s supposed to lodge into my brain tomorrow morning can’t come soon enough.

  ***

  Hours and hours pass in this dungeon pit. My nerves are a wreck. I don’t care how many times I’m given a death sentence, the fear of death never really goes away. What bothers me more is the fear for Dad and Elijah, and the burning curiosity of where they are. I squeeze my trembling hands into fists. A bead of sweat rolls down my spine, and I lean back again the stone wall to crush it.

  Why did Titus replace me? I know the answer before I complete the question in my head. He wants to keep the fake me alive to appease the Patricians. He wants to kill the real me to avoid the possible threat I might pose. Well done, Titus. One step ahead, as always. Completely and totally invincible.

  I heave out a sigh and drag my hands down the length of my face. Where the shoddy rot is Forest? Although I pegged him as a traitor, I still hoped I was wrong. But he hasn’t been here to visit. He hasn’t come to my rescue. He’s not locked in here with me.

  So I guess I was right.

  He’s a traitor. He’s been working with Titus all along. They’re probably having drinks together and laughing at me right now. My naïveté. My stupidity. How utterly gullible I was to think that Chief Titus would just let me go back to the orchard to resume my career when I have the power to take him down. How incredibly stupid I was to think Forest, an elite congressman, could actually fall in love with a farmer like myself. They’re probably reminiscing on their disappointment that I didn’t lead them to the Resurgence. That’s why Titus let me go for two whole weeks, using Forest as a spy, wasn’t it? Makes perfect sense.

  What of Rain? Where is he? He wouldn’t come to visit me because he only thinks about himself, and visiting a criminal would look bad on his record. He has an image to uphold, he told me once. And for the sake of his image, he’s probably escorting the new and revised Ember Carter now. Who is she that she can just take my name, stake a claim to my place in this world? I almost hate her more than I hate Titus.