The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3)

by Steven dos Santos

  “Yes,” he says, answering my unspoken question. “They all died on the exact same day.”

  My hand brushes his shoulder. “From these dates you must have been no more than twelve when it happened. I never knew. I’m so sorry.”

  “Do not be. It has been years. Besides. That was someone else’s life.” His hand touches the first of the blank slabs. “This was supposed to be Digory Tycho’s tomb. But it is a little too late for that now.” His eyes flit to the last, empty plaque. “And this one was for Digory’s spouse.” He turns away from me. “We can lay your friend to rest here. Her body will be preserved until her people come for her.”

  In silence, Digory enters the code for the last vault. The vacuum seal hisses, and the drawer slides open. Carefully, we lift Tristin’s body and place it inside. Out of respect for Tristin, I try to recite a few of the prayers from my childhood, but I can barely remember them, instead piecing together a hodge-podge of mutterings to the Deity, trying to remind myself that it won’t really matter to Tristin anymore. She’s at peace now. Rituals like this are for the living.

  I bow my head and give her a tender kiss on the forehead. “I hope you find it,” I whisper. Then I hit the switch and the drawer slides shut, sealing her inside.

  No sooner is our makeshift funeral over, when Digory grabs my arm and points to the gate. I can hear it too, now. Voices in the cemetery. The static and crackle of coms.

  My heart’s in overdrive. “It’s a republic patrol. They’ve tracked us.”

  Cautiously, we peer through the bars of the gate. Sure enough, I can see at least half a dozen Thorn agents, a few astride Caballuses, the others on foot.

  “—reports of a sighting on Serenity Hill,” the lead officer’s saying into her walkie. “We’re checking it out now.”

  One of her companions trains a light on the mausoleum, and we duck back into the shadows. I scan the four corners of the small crypt.

  “They have us cornered,” Digory mutters in that strange, muted volume of his. “We will take down as many as we can before becoming non-functional. You get to the woods and—”

  “Better idea.” Before Digory can protest, I scramble over to the one remaining empty vault, the one intended for him, and open it. It’ll be a tight squeeze, but we can do it. I don’t need to motion him over. He’s beside me in an instant. We both leap and slide into place, closing the drawer almost completely. Digory breaks off the locking mechanism as a precaution. There should be enough air in here to last until they’re gone.

  The gate creaks open as the patrol makes its way inside.

  Our bodies are wedged together and I can barely breathe, aware that even the most minute sound will give us away.

  Tense seconds stretch into minutes.

  “Nothing here,” one of the agents finally says. “Let’s comb the entire cemetery again.”

  “Wait,” the lead officer says, freezing my blood. “Conduct a thermal scan. I want to make sure there’s nothing else alive in here but us.”

  This is it. No escape this time. At least they won’t have to worry about disposing of the bodies when they kill us.

  Digory surprises me by pulling me even closer and enveloping my entire body with his. As he stares deep into my eyes, I start to feel numb and lightheaded. My vision blurs and a wave of dizziness hits me. It’s so cold…I can’t feel my limbs…

  I open my mouth to speak but no words flow past my lips, only frosty breath.

  This is all Digory. He’s lowering his body temperature…our body temperature…masking the heat signatures…

  Everything’s hazy…hypo…thermia…just want to sleep…

  Scanners not picking up anything. It’s clear.

  The voice sounds so far away…

  Creaking…gates slamming shut…

  A rush of warmth on my lips. Starts coursing through my whole body. Fire hits my heart. My eyes spring open—

  Digory’s lips are pressed against mine, feeding me air.

  He pulls away. “Sorry for any discomfort. You started slipping away, but I fed you oxygen and restarted your heart with an electronic pulse.”

  All I can do is nod.

  “We should stay here for a while until the patrol is gone,” Digory mutters. “Get some rest.”

  I don’t think I’m going to be able to. But with my face pressed against his chest, the strong, rhythmic beating of his heart starts to lull me, and I finally give in to exhaustion—

  I’m awakened by a gasp from Digory. His body’s bathed in an icy sweat, his breathing heavy.

  Because of our confinement, I can’t sit up. “Digory, what’s wrong?”

  “The screaming,” he says. “It was worse than it has ever been.”

  “It’s okay. It was only a nightmare, that’s all.”

  He turns his face toward me and grips me so hard, I think my ribs are going to crack. “It was Digory.” He finally says. “His family. He killed them. He killed them all.”

  He buries his face in my neck and his body stills again.

  But I can’t fall back to sleep.

  TEN

  Hours later, we rise from our tomb, making sure to make as little noise as possible in case the patrols are still searching the graveyard. We peer out the gate and don’t see any signs of lingering agents. Digory volunteers to sneak around the mausoleum’s corner and climb up one of the tall trees to survey the area before we head off. I agree with barely a nod and he disappears. He hasn’t mentioned his nightmares and what he said, and I haven’t either. The implication of his confession, or whatever it was, is just too much to handle with everything else that’s going on.

  He slithers down from the roof, hanging upside down, his face appearing through the gates like an arachnid’s peering through its web. “It is clear.”

  I glance at the last unmarked grave. As soon as I get the chance, I’ll make sure her family gives her a proper burial. “Goodbye, Tristin.” Then I turn to Digory. “Let’s go.”

  He hops off the gate, barely making a sound, and I follow him out of the crypt. As he closes the gate behind us, he pauses for a minute and peers in at the vault, gripping the bars. Then the moment passes and we’re off, trudging through the cemetery, trying to stick to the shadows of trees, following the maze of headstones to the far side before we slip over the fence.

  About an hour after leaving Serenity Hill behind us, we finally reach the outskirts of New Eden, where the wealthy aristocracy of the Parish and its government officials reside. The entire area is secured by an invisible laser grid, which will burn through the flesh and bone of any poor unfortunate looking for more substantial scraps of food.

  My heartbeat gains momentum. “So Cole’s in one of those houses?”

  “Number forty-seven.”

  I scoop up a handful of dead leaves and toss them through two of the columns. There’s a puff of smoke. They’re reduced to cinders in an instant.

  I glance at Digory. “How do you propose we get through?”

  He moves in closer to the laser grid. “A large enough creature attempting to cross the field will create a temporary disturbance as it absorbs the brunt of the blast. Theoretically, that should allow another living organism to pass through at the same time relatively unscathed.”

  I join him at the perimeter. “Theoretically? It still doesn’t solve the problem of finding a decoy—”

  Oh, hell.

  “Digory, I can’t let you do this. You’ll never survive.”

  “You have seen our regenerative abilities first hand. We can handle the impact. This vessel’s tissue and cells will heal.” He holds up his palm, warding off my protests. “There aren’t any other options. You do want to see your brother again, do you not? That was our agreement.”

  He’s right. I’ve waited too long already. But still. Despite everything that’s happened, I can’t sully my hands with someone else’s blood. Especially Digory’s, no matter what he is now or what he may have done.

  I shake my head. “We’ll
find another way.”

  “Move quickly,” he says, stepping through the field before I can attempt to stop him.

  The moment he does, his body doubles over and his face contorts.

  “Damn you!” All I can think of as I dive through the field is the smell of burnt flesh, clogging my nostrils.

  Then I’m rolling, curled into a fetal position, pain and nausea wracking my body. Burning moisture drips from my eyes. I try to get my bearings. Wisps of smoke rise from my singed clothing. After a quick check it looks like I’m still in one piece.

  The shock wears off and one thought burns through my brain.

  Digory’s lying crumpled just on this side of the field. I crawl over and pull him further away from the deadly lasers. His skin is even paler than it was before, if that’s even possible, a stark contrast against the vibrant red trickling from his nostrils and ears. A lot of his clothing has been burnt away, and I swallow hard at the sight of scorch marks burnt deep into his body. His breathing’s shallow and frosty sweat seeps from his pores. When I touch his face, his eyes flutter open and I can see the grey obscured by burst capillaries.

  “Told you…it would…work…” he groans.

  And then it’s like we’re back at Infiernos and the trials saying our goodbyes before I set off to rescue Cole.

  Only this time I’m breaking the cycle. I’m not going to lose him like I did before. Like I just lost Tristin.

  “I’m staying right here with you until I’m sure you’re going to be okay.”

  Despite my own depleted strength, I manage to pull him behind the cover of some perfectly manicured hedges. I cradle his head so he can sip water from the canteen. Then I swathe his body and cover the worst of his wounds in bandages from the medical kit. While I can see evidence of the skin beginning to knit itself together again, it seems like a much slower process this time, as if each of these instances of massive tissue damage are starting to finally take their toll on his system. In any case, if he recovers, there’s no way I think he can withstand another episode like this.

  Morning turns to afternoon, and his shivering becomes less and less pronounced. The burns fade from black, to red, and then pink. His breathing eases back into something resembling a normal rhythm, at least for him, and I finally start to let myself relax a little.

  “You’re probably wondering what we meant about…the Tycho family, back there in the crypt.”

  His words take me by surprise. I sit up from my slumped position. “Yes, I did. But you don’t owe me any explanations right now.” I crush up some of the pain pills into a powder and pour them into the water left in the canteen, mixed with some sleep meds. I tilt it against his lips. “Drink up. I need you in peak condition if we’re going to make it through this.”

  He gulps it down in one swig.

  “This place is heavily patrolled.” His voice is low. “There is a security station in the northeast quadrant. You might be able to borrow a uniform there to blend in easier.”

  “I’ve heard rumors that these homes are now inhabited by the former Imposers who have pledged their loyalty to Cassius. What can you tell me about that?”

  Digory’s eyes glaze over as if he’s scanning some internal hard drive. "Most of the previous residents, the once privileged elite that were loyal to deceased Prime Minister Talon during the Thorn coup, have been arrested and sent to the camps in an effort to purge the new regime of their tainted bloodlines.”

  I spit into the dirt. “Genocide. Your new boss, Cassius, is a real prize. The fortunate ones were murdered outright. There’s been talk of these political prisoners being used as test subjects in horrific biological experiments. Who the hell knows what they’ve done to my brother?”

  My rage cools. I take in the blank expression on Digory’s face. With the UltraImposer conditioning he’s been subjected to, he’s just as much a victim as all the others.

  “I should get moving. You going to be okay?”

  “We will probably be functioning efficiently again and wondering what has taken you so long by the time you return.”

  I can’t help but smile. This sounds almost like the old Digory’s sense of humor.

  Making sure he’s concealed behind the hedges, I set off, skirting the perimeter of the laser grid, heading northeast, until I finally reach the valley just beyond the security station.

  The palatial mansions of New Eden look pristine as ever, but with one major difference. Where once the emblem of the Establishment bloomed everywhere, it’s now been replaced by the enormous banners of the Thorn Republic, a letter T, the vertical portion formed from an obsidian dagger, while the horizontal portion’s in the shape of an ebony scale, in a mockery of justice. The symbol is encased in a diamond shape framed by a crimson backdrop. These banners are draped over the balconies, turrets, and gables, fluttering in the chilled, autumn breeze. A stark message that the remnants of the Establishment have been conquered.

  I slink past a cluster of trees that look like they’ve been wounded in battle. Their blood red leaves spill all over the grass. I try to avoid crunching them under my boots while I creep toward the back of the patrol station.

  In less than ten minutes, I’ve grabbed hold of a young, unsuspecting agent exiting the bunker to go out on patrol, knocked him unconscious, and slipped into his uniform. I use his own restraints to bind and gag him, hiding him in some shrubs. With his radio, I’ll be able to keep tabs on the agents’ movements and hopefully, move about undetected.

  Taking a deep breath, I stride into the center of town acting as if I belong among the marching squads and agents bustling around.

  The other personnel barely glance at me. Instead, their attention is focused on a gathering in the courtyard of one of the manors.

  My heart skips a beat as I take in the number on the house.

  Forty-seven.

  Gripping my sidearm, I move in closer.

  A family, consisting of two adults and one child, is being dragged from the home. They look haggard. But it’s the abject fear in their eyes that makes me pause.

  “Please,” the woman pleads. “I just need to get my grandmother’s ring. It’s all I have—”

  Slap!

  She recoils from the agent’s blow. Her husband breaks free of his own captor, shoving the brute away and shielding his wife with his own body. “Don’t you dare lay another finger on her.”

  The bullet hits him right through the eye. He collapses on top of his wife’s now gore spattered body. Her shrieks are piercing. But the son just stares in silence. He must be at least eight, but he’s sucking his thumb.

  “I’ll give you something to scream about.” The agent who slapped the woman tears at her dress. I realize where I recognize him from. Arch. The former Imp who was on duty with Valerian that long ago day when I met up with Digory in the alley before we were both recruited.

  All around me the officers laugh.

  “Filthy Stains,” an agent mutters beside me. “Society will be a lot better off when their blood’s filtered from the gene pool.”

  She claps me on the back, and I nod.

  “Good work, Cadet Spark,” a voice utters nearby, shocking me to attention.

  I’m about to whip out my weapon and fire, when I realize it’s not me being addressed.

  The agent who slapped the woman and murdered her husband is saluting the head of a squad composed mostly of children, a boy of around six with dark, somber eyes.

  Cole salutes the agent back. “Just doing my duty, Agent Arch, Sir!”

  Arch turns to address the onlookers. “Let this be a lesson in loyalty. Cadet Spark did not hesitate to present evidence against the very family that was fostering him as soon as he discovered it. His uncle will be very proud of him.” He turns to Cole again. “Any last words for your foster brother before he’s taken to the camps?”

  I feel like I’m trapped in a nightmare, unable to move. Cole pivots on his heel, turns to the boy, and slams a fist into his gut, despite the other’s larger
size. As the boy falls, Cole kicks him repeatedly, while the other agents cheer him on.

  Soon the other kid’s a bloody and prone clump.

  “Do it, Spark.” Arch commands. “It’ll be your first Kill. An act of purification that’ll bond you to the brotherhood forever.”

  I’m still reeling as I stare at my brother. All those years I tried to shield him from the horrors of this world, and now he’s becoming one of them.

  Cole rears his boot back, ready to deliver the killing blow to the kid’s skull.

  I bite my lower lip and clench my fists. Screw caution. I bolt from my spot, knocking agents over. “I taught you better than that.”

  Before they can take me down, I grab Cole, lift him, and throttle him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  He glares at me as if he’s been struck. “You’re not my brother.”

  I glance at the injured boy’s bloody body and turn back to Cole. “You’re right. My brother would never do this.”

  “Looks like we’ve caught ourselves a bigger prize,” Arch mutters. “Take him.”

  I’m surrounded by agents and dumped into a transport along with what’s left of the doomed family.

  As we drive off, Cole just stands there, staring after us amidst a swirl of dead leaves.

  ELEVEN

  The massive towers of the Citadel fill my eyes on our approach, but I can’t get Cole’s face out of my mind. The coldness in his eyes is even worse than Digory’s because it’s laced with hatred.

  And what’s become of Digory? Was he able to regenerate? Did he make it back here? Was my capture part of a trap he led me right into? No. That wouldn’t make sense. He had plenty of opportunities to lead me into an ambush. He could have turned me over back at the mausoleum. But he didn’t. Unless it’s just another one of Cass’s mind games.

  I shake the thought. Digory’s probably still lying there, dying, waiting for me to return to him in vain yet again. He may even be dead already. And with the Citadel looming so close, I’ll probably be following soon.

  The transport grinds to a halt on the landing platform, and the doors swing open. Arch is standing there, accompanied by two other agents, each tugging at the leashes of snarling canids. The beasts’ massive jaws are open, tongues polishing their razored teeth and hideous snouts. As they stare at me, I get the impression they’re deciding which of my limbs would make for the better first course.