Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  “The bastards just going to let him die, isn’t he?”

  “Not if I can help it.” She noticed him grimace as she blotted blood and dirt from his creviced wounds. And wondered if she could get Babbit to Headquarters to stitch up a few worrisome lacerations. Although, like Fulvio said, why bother if he’ll be eyeing a noose in the morning. “Gee is attempting to gather a surgical team. It’ll be downright challenging going behind Malkus’s back, if not impossible. If Pomfrey finds out, they’ll be hell to pay.”

  “You should spread the word,” his voice thinned. “If citizens knew Gee was operating to save Rooney’s life, they’d stand behind him and not your father.”

  “Pomfrey’s done quite a number on oppressing the entire village. The revolt was squashed and teenagers, who were willing to take up the cause—” Her throat tightened, trying to spit it out. “Were killed. I doubt the people have much fight left in them.”

  “When it comes to loved ones and freedom you’d be surprised how much people will endure,” he said, “and their tenacity to prevail against injustice when given the opportunity.”

  “You nearly caused a revolt only hours ago.”

  “Me? How so.”

  “Didn’t you hear the cries of citizens trying to stop your punishment?”

  “I was too busy hearing the crack of the whip,” he said, clenching teeth. “And feeling leather carving my back.”

  “It took all the Mediator’s to quarantine the people.” They quieted, hearing only the noise of swishing water as she bathed his wounds.

  “Doogan will come.” His tone was resigned. “Not strictly for me, he’s passionate about saving his friend. Even before I snuck off, I knew he’d be biting at the bit to help Rooney.”

  Paniess desperately wished to grill him about Doogan. Questions like: Does he miss me? Does he talk about me? Instead she said, “We know Doogan never gave two shits about authority. Every since he was little, he bucked the system. And I begged him not to take the chance.”

  “Rehashing history isn’t my forte this evening.” His eyelids flickered shut; the whipping had taken a toll.

  At the sound of the cell door opening, she pivoted in place. “Mr. Addler would like to speak with you,” Coot said, the new Head Mediator.

  Paniess thought of refusing to leave. Though, an idea swiftly developed an idea that’d help Gee perform surgery on Rooney. “Fulvio needs a doctor to suture some of these cuts,” Fulvio grunted at the mention of his name. “Perhaps you could get Malkus over here.”

  “Isn’t that menial chore for Babbit? And do you think it really matters?” Coot’s gaze skirted to the motionless man, and then back to her. “He’ll be dead as a doornail soon.”

  “I bet Malkus would like to treat the Elite, don’t you?” A perfect set-up to get rid of Malkus, she thought.

  “Treat him or beat him?” Coot gurgled deploringly. “Malkus isn’t shy about his feelings toward the old man and his son.”

  “Then, what better way for the new Head Mediator to gain a notch into the upper echelon by granting Malkus an audience with the traitor.” A cocktail of emotions displayed over Coot’s face. “Malkus doesn’t need to know it was my suggestion. You can make it sound like you’re doing him a favor.”

  “I’ll think about it.” His mouth twitched, reflecting. “C’mon, Clive is waiting to take you to Mr. Addler.”

  “Let me say good- bye to an old friend.” She turned and knelt next to the cot. Sneaking a hand into the pocket of her woolen pants, she removed a knife. Furtively she jammed it under him and whispered, “If Malkus comes. Gee needs time to operate on Rooney. I believe you’re right about people’s endurance and tenacity.” She touched his bare shoulder. “Fulvio, until we meet again, on the other side.”

  ***

  “Paniess, do you think reproach is above you? Agree to my demands and I shall be merciful.” Pomfrey strode around the desk in the mansion’s library to face her. “You will marry Malkus. You will bear me flawless grandchildren. You will act the part of a gracious hostess for the Elites and Executives. Your duties are to my every whim.”

  “If I marry Malkus, shouldn’t my duties be to his every whim?” Her cadence filled with insolence.

  “Of course, as long as it pleases me.” His fingers gathered a handful of her hair and brought the strands to his nose. “You smell like blood.”

  “Why’d you order me locked in the cell with Fulvio?”

  “My last ditch effort to save you and garner information.” He let her hair waterfall from his hand and lowered into the chair next to her.

  “What’s all this talk about marriage and grandchildren?” She combed the feel of his fingers from her hair. “You changed my death sentence from the firing squad to hang alongside Fulvio.”

  “Why waste bullets. A double hanging is more macabre, don’t you think?” His untoward grin released a seizure of ticks to his face. “I could be swayed to reduce your sentence if you are an asset to Management. Supply me with information and you shall be exonerated. As easy as that.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “You were with Fulvio. Tell me where those mutants settled and—”

  “And you’ll deploy Mediators to round them up,” she intervened, “and perform grotesque experiments on them for your benefit.”

  “Not just for my benefit.” He stood, glaring down his nose at her. “How soon you forget what your body produced. A mutated mass of skin and bones.”

  Paniess’s lips parted, though, choked on the words she craved to fling at him. Instead, her chin dipped and murmured, “She was beautiful to me.” When Pomfrey switched her from the firing squad to a dual hanging with Fulvio, she thought he’d been trying to manipulate her. Yet as each day passed she’d discerned peculiar twitching and a mania gaze on his face. Her father had gone over the brink of sanity

  He’d make a grand demonstration on the gallows pulpit showering his daughter with leniency. He’d pardon her on the spot for handing over evidence for the survival of citizens.

  If she rebuked his offer Gee and the whole surgical team would suffer for their flagrant disobedience, and Rooney would die. Then again, she wondered if Malkus had gone to check on Fulvio. If so, she wondered if he’d be inclined to take the initiative and use the knife. Then her life of servitude to a man she reviled would be terminated before it was even consummated.

  Much weighed in the balance of her decision.

  “I’m fallible and have acquired many regrets over the years.” Appearing edgy, he drew back his suit coat and settled his hands over his waistband. “You’re a lot like Gwin. Full of righteous fortitude and I loved her for it. Together we’d built a community for survivors to dwell and start fresh with hope.

  “Did you know Tallas’s motto had been devised by your mother? Stabilization in Harmony with Civilization. But people are fickle and greedy, and I had to make uncompromising decrees, or all would’ve gone astray.” Paniess noted a vein in his temple pulsating as his hands obsessively jingled coins in the pocket of his trousers. “Don’t you think it hurt me to witness these mutants plaguing our village? And then having to send them off to certain death to save us from their diseases?”

  While he cataloged his regrets, it provided her ample time to collect her thoughts.

  The library grew silent.

  She turned to regard him, a visage she’d grown to despise. Prior to her speaking, a defined tweak distorted his nostrils and left eye, and then returned to normal.

  “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know,” she said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  While remaining semi-conscious, Fulvio had concealed the knife in his pants’ pocket. Now, lying face down, he felt a discreet poke to his agonizing body.

  “Finally, the great Fulvio McTullan will pay for his follies.” Malkus lorded over him, a briefcase held in his hand. He jarred the cots metal frame with his worn Gucci shoe. “Hey, are you listening to me. Wake up.” He prodded him harder.

&nbs
p; Fulvio grumbled, exerting himself into an upright position. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He sprinkled on the absurd charm. “Apparently you know me, but I can’t seem to place your face.”

  “Don’t give me that bullshit, old man. When you moved out of the mansion, I came begging like one of the village rats.” Malkus’s face warped into a scribbling mess. “I wanted you to get me into the Infirmary with your son. It should’ve been me that received that honor instead of Doogan. He just happened to be in the right place at the right time.

  “Then you stuck it to them by absconding with scores of medical equipment to help those malformed people. I finally got my break when Mr. Addler issued a few interns a confidential directive, and I was on board. I busted my balls for years assisting those two ancient coots in the lower levels. Experimenting on repulsive mutants. And whom does Mr. Addler give all kinds of praises? Doogan. Just because he operated on Gwin and saved her life.”

  “My son paid a hefty price for my indiscretion.”

  “Too bad he didn’t die. Would’ve been advantageous for me.” Malkus dropped his foot to the floor. “I’m the Head Administer at the Infirmary now. And after I marry Paniess, Mr. Addler hinted at a promotion. I’ll be living in the mansion as one of the Elites, probably in your old digs.”

  “Now that I get a closer look at you…” Fulvio trailed off staring intently at Malkus. “I do remember a snot-nosed boy threatening a rolled fist in my face. Most indignant, I must say.”

  “Look who’s calling me indignant.” Malkus’s mouth spread into a malicious grin. “You’re like pond scum. A piece of shredded meat that’s going to be hung and cured for all to see. I’ll make sure the Mediators throw your carcass in the woods.”

  “At least all this won’t go entirely to waste.” Fulvio belted out laughter holding firm to his jiggling belly. “The woodland creatures will have a feast to remember.”

  He sobered rather quickly.

  “It’s senseless to suture those stripes, but he must have a reason,” Malkus declared. “Maybe Mr. Addler’s afraid you might bleed to death before you get your neck stretched.” His throat vibrated with a snicker as he opened his medical briefcase.

  “Did Pomfrey send you to Headquarters?” Fulvio asked.

  Malkus’s eyes flit to his face. “Not exactly.” His hands stalled inside his briefcase. “Paniess told me to come. I assumed she spoke for her father.”

  “Oh, yes. Quite right.” Fulvio wondered if Gee was in the process of operating on Rooney. Watching Malkus withdraw a suturing kit, he said, “I’ve lost all track of time. Mind being a good fellow and supply me with the hour?”

  “Let’s just say you’ll be gasping for oxygen shortly.” He threaded the needle. “Lay face down on the cot. Sorry, I don’t have any meds to deaden the pain.”

  “I’m not surprised.” Fulvio tsked.

  “If you pass out it’ll be easier for you.”

  Fulvio had to give Gee time. Lots of time. If he passed out, he’d lose control of the situation. He fingered the blade in his pocket.

  ***

  “Clive, are you purposely trying to hit every pothole on the road?” Customarily stationed in the rear seat, Paniess’s fingers curled over the door handle. “I’d like to get to the Infirmary in one piece.”

  “I’m surprised Mr. Addler is letting you go to the Infirmary. I thought—”

  “You thought wrong,” she said. “My father and I have come to an agreement. Babbit’s going to check on my finger, the one that you broke and—”

  “Paniess.” The sedan stalled as Clive looked over his shoulder at her. “I follow orders. Don’t you realize how much it hurt me?”

  “Not as much as it hurt me.” She dislodged a piece of hair that had bonded to her cherry lipstick. “You could’ve refused and tried reasoning with him.”

  Clive’s lips disappeared as his mouth bulged. “Mr. Addler is a hard man to reason with. I’d be behind bars for insubordination.”

  “You just don’t want to lose the cushy assignment you have right now.” She turned her head to stare out the window, dismissing any comments he might add.

  The morose predawn melted into a spectacular sunrise. Though, warmth was hard to come by as she cinched her coat around her waist. Snow blanketed nearby mountains and Tallas had received a dusting. As each minute ticked by, she wondered when, and if, Doogan would make an appearance.

  Clive parked the sedan lengthwise next to the Infirmary.

  “I’d like you to come with me today,” she said as he opened the rear door. While browsing the village, she brushed off his shepherding hands. “Where is everyone?”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me? You don’t know why the roads are deserted?” Clive fingered his revolver seemingly to assure himself it was in his holster. “Fulvio’s—”

  “Oh, right.” She frowned. “How could I forget? Citizens are in the stages of depression; I’m sure. Everyone loves Fulvio. My father’s making a huge mistake.”

  “He’s guilty as sin.” Clive breezed open the Infirmary’s glass door and waited for her to enter. “Fulvio knew the consequences. He’s out-smarted us for years; we could never catch him until now. Doogan’s next.”

  A piddling contraction squeezed her chest. She’d never let that happen.

  ***

  Preceding an exhaustive nap, Tibbles thundered over the plain toward Three Rocks. Instead of coursing down the last stretch of the mountainside into Tallas, he veered to the plateau. A trace of tinny blood hung in the air.

  Galloping along the narrow mountain ledge, his sight locked on the chestnut stallion. Like a regal effigy, Zennith posed at the edge of the plateau. Scarlet fluid ribboned the horse’s legs, puddling the stony surface.

  As if the stallion had been lingering, waiting for his buddy, Zennith nickered, tossing his mane. As the bear dashed toward him, his body wobbled and his muscular legs gave way.

  Lurching, Tibbles managed to catch Zennith’s head before it crashed on solid ground. The bear’s paw petted his friend’s forehead between the ears. Soothing intonations and heartfelt as he comforted the stallion.

  Zennith’s eye remained fixed on the bear. Ever so gradual his lid shuttered closed.

  Tibbles hugged him to his chest and a snort burbled from his mouth. Elevating his muzzle, he mournfully howled.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  “That storm was a doozy,” Gus said, hunkering in the far-end of the helio. “Sleet turning to snow and then rain. I thought it’d never let up.”

  “Couldn’t take this baby up in that.” Ennis tapped the helio’s control stick. “And flying over the mountain would’ve been suicidal.” He glimpsed a vexed Doogan in the passenger seat with Keeyla curled on his lap. “Sorry, Doogan.”

  “Can’t you go any faster?” Doogan let loose a subdued mumble. He ringed a lock of Keeyla’s hair over his finger, the morning shine catching the strands. While gazing at the luster of her hair, he said, “I’m sorry I went berserk last night. I expected to be in Tallas by now, and I feel the restraints of time. We’re playing it way too close.”

  “Don’t apologize,” Ennis said. “I understand. We’ll be there soon.”

  Smelt fidgeted. He pancaked his spine on cold metal and pulled his collar higher, covering his neck. “Dagnabbit, it’s dern freezing in this thingamajig.” He shivered and reeled his head to the pilot. “Don’t this contraption have any heat?”

  “It uses gas,” Ennis said from the pilot’s seat. “Over this crest is Three Rocks. We’ll be there in a minute. We need to refuel before going in.”

  Keeyla yawned and rubbed her eyes. “We there?” And repositioned her head on Doogan’s shoulder.

  “I can’t believe you fell asleep with the racket of these propellers.” Doogan’s grin increased into his cheeks while pushing her hair off her forehead.

  “I couldn’t sleep last night with all that thunder and lightning?” She returned his manufactured smile.

  “I slept like a baby,” Smelt
said, joining in. “I’ve been through worse.”

  The compartment hushed of voices. Only the noise of the whopping propellers aggravated their eardrums.

  “There’s the plain,” Ennis said. “I’m taking her down.”

  “I’ll scooch in the back while we land.” Keeyla crawled off of Doogan’s lap, and she felt his hand smooth along her rear. She noted Ennis’s crude smirk as her cheeks pinked, and swatted her husband’s helping hand.

  “Can you see the plateau? Look.” Doogan angled forward. “Is that Tibbles and Zennith?”

  A scuffling came from behind as Keeyla, Smelt, and Gus viewed the scene from over the shoulders of Ennis and Doogan.

  “Oh, no.” Keeyla sounded breathy. “Zennith’s lying on the ground. It doesn’t look good.”

  “Dammit.” Doogan’s dug cranky fingers past his temple into his long hair. “Tibbles is looking this way. He’s leaving Zennith and running along the ledge.”

  “What the hell is that crazy bear gonna do?” Smelt said. “He’s gonna get killed for sure this time.”

  “I didn’t know he left camp.” Ennis steered the helio to the right. “Should I land?”

  “We have to land. We’re keeping to the plan.” Doogan settled into the seat, watching the bear. “Tibbles must have a sixth sense. He felt something bad was happening to Fulvio.”

  “And he’s right,” Gus said, squishing between Keeyla and Smelt to improve his sight. “I don’t see how he can help, though.”

  “You’d be surprised.” Doogan’s memory shifted to the day Tibbles rescued them in the midst of bullets zinging everywhere. “He’s definitely a good diversion to have on our side.”

  “Hey. Nobody ever gave me credit for getting rid of that Mediator guy, y’all called Basta.” Smelt sniffed and gripped the rim of the pilots seat to steady himself. “Just when he was getting ready to kill Tibbles, I hit that sucker from over two-hundred feet.”

  “I can attest to that. I was there.” Keeyla smacked Smelt on the shoulder. “I despise killing, but sometimes it’s kill or be killed.”