Master: Arrow's Flight #3

by Casey Hays

  She knows as well as I do that I can go days without sleep if I have to, but her brows rise with purpose anyway, her back tall and straight—and commanding. A huge sigh escapes me. I bend over Kate, and kiss her hot forehead.

  “See you tomorrow,” I whisper close to her ear. “And when you wake up, I’ll fill you in on all the messy details. It’s been interesting.” I plant a kiss on her cheek, smooth a thumb over the same spot, and edge back enough to see her face. “I miss you.”

  I have to admit, the pallet is a welcome sight. I sink down onto it and stretch to my full length. Penelope eases Kate’s door closed and stands over me for a moment, the candle in her hand.

  “Do you need anything?”

  “No. I’m good.”

  She turns to go.

  “Penelope.”

  “Yes?”

  “Thank you.” The words seems shallow, so I add, “You saved her.”

  The candlelight flickers in her grasp, causing half of her face to waver distortedly. “Well, I can’t take much credit for it.” She points upward with her index finger, giving it a small pump in the air. “He just happened to gift me with the proper skill set for this profession.”

  I shake my head with a smile and prop my hands behind my neck. Always, it’s about this. She starts to turn away again, but halts.

  “While we’re on the subject, I suppose I have you to thank, too.”

  I lift my head slightly. “For what?”

  “For your wandering spirit.” Her fingers tighten around the candle, and she tilts her head to the side. After a minute, she moves around the pallet to sit in the chair. “It is you, isn’t it? The one who can’t sit still? Who needs to feel the wind in his face? Smell rain that isn’t artificially simulated? It’s not hard to conclude that you’re the one with the adventurous side. It certainly wasn’t Justin.”

  I sigh and rest my head back onto my palms once again. “You got me.”

  She places the candle on the end table and picks up a book, leafs through the pages. I recognize it. She gave it to me this morning. Where did I leave it?

  “If you hadn’t dragged Justin out of the city,” she continues, “he’d be trapped inside with the rest of them. So, thank you.”

  I toss her an easy, sleepy smile and stifle a yawn. We’re quiet a moment, and then she lays the book back on the table and hones in on me, suddenly serious. “Just what were you and Justin doing outside of the city?”

  I cringe. This is the question I was hoping to avoid most.

  “A camping trip to Scarlet Forest.” I hold my breath, hoping this will suffice. Her expression tells me it doesn’t. After a minute, I sigh. “It’s . . . kind of a long and complicated story.”

  “And I assume this long and complicated story has something to do with the girl in the other room?”

  Even in the dim light, she sees the answer in my eyes before I say a word.

  “Yes. We were on our way back to Eden when Jeb Anderson and his expedition team found us. Two of his people had been killed by the Vortex.”

  Penelope’s mouth opens slightly, then clamps shut again.

  “He told us about the siege.” I study the ceiling with a furrowed brow as if I expect the solution to this horrific conflict to be written up there somewhere. “And then... Kate got shot.”

  The room screams with silence after this, and the flickering wisp of the flame dances against Penelope’s face.

  “What do they want with Eden?”

  Her eyes settle on me, filling me with the most uneasy feeling. I don’t blink. A small part of me that never stops worrying about Kate—about my friends and family—flares slightly. Because something about Penelope’s grave expression triggers in me an undefined trembling that involuntarily ripples through my senses.

  “You know, don’t you?” I rise up on one elbow.

  “Every plan is faulty in one area or another,” she responds. “Because nothing is perfect. Eden’s desire to create a utopia was no different. But it’s unreasonable to think every person would be satisfied with being confined within its walls. For one, supplies are necessary—products and goods that are not manufactured inside the city. And so within the perimeters of the Code, expeditions were initiated. The downside?” Something in Penelope’s eyes twitches. “People talk. And secrets get out.”

  I work her answer through my brain while she examines me, and a twinge of guilt riddles my insides. Because I’m one of the people who’s talked.

  “And so, what are you saying?”

  “This isn’t some random attack simply because they hate us. They’re after something very important.”

  Jeb’s fears wash over me, sending a shiver up my spine. “It’s the Serum, isn’t it? Why?”

  “Because they see us. They see what we are capable of. And they want it for themselves.”

  “But . . . that’s not how it works. They can’t just take it and become like us.”

  Her eyes flit toward the window as if to assure herself that no one lurks behind it listening to our dangerous conversation in the middle of the night.

  “They don’t know that. And no amount of negotiating will convince them until they see it for themselves. They’ll take what they want and ask questions later.”

  “So what?” I’m sitting now, a renewed energy flooding to the surface and pushing fatigue aside. “We just let them come in and destroy Eden? Take what isn’t theirs?”

  She shakes her head, and her eyes drop to her lap.

  “You know,” she finally begins. “It took me a couple of years to get used to the sound of the hammer slamming into the anvil.”

  I lift my brows, confused. What does this have to do with the Vortex?

  “Oh, I’d been here many times beforehand, but believe me, visiting the blacksmiths for a few days and living among them are two very different things.” She eyes me, and her voice softens to nearly a whisper. “At first, I thought I might lose my mind. The enclosed life of Eden had been my home for so long that Jordan was quite a change.”

  She sighs, studies her fingernails.

  “But after a while . . .” A smile reaches her voice. “God began to teach me through the noise.” She pulls her fists up to her chest. “If I concentrate on the rhythm of the blacksmith’s pounding, it clears my mind to hear His voice. I find peace in the echo of the anvil.”

  I meet her gaze with a skeptical one of my own. Because I was there today—in the midst of it—and the violent pounding of a hammer against metal is the last place I’d look for peace.

  “Be still, and know that I am God.” Penelope whispers the words, and then she looks at me. “This same God was nailed to a tree to save me from myself. To save you.” She shrugs. “Every time I hear that pounding hammer I’m reminded that God is with me. And he is in control, even now.”

  She’s quiet a moment, but I don’t hear God. I definitely heard no reassuring voice inside the repetitious pounding of the anvil today. And she’s wrong. There is no god dying to save me. Why would he want to?

  Penelope stands.

  “I don’t know what we’re supposed to do, Ian. I don’t know what will happen to any of us. But I know that I will trust that God does. And that’s enough for me.” She blows out the candle, and the room goes black. “Now, get some sleep.”

  “Penelope?”

  “Yes?

  “Is it safe for you if I stay here?”

  I hear her shuffling turn as she faces me.

  “You’re not going anywhere. We will deal with whatever comes our way when it comes. You understand?”

  “Yeah.” I sigh with relief.

  She slips back through Kate’s door, and I stare upward contemplating everything she said. Until now, Kate’s recovery has consumed all of my thoughts. But the ache—an echo of the agony that has resided with me for days—slowly begins to subside, and I let myself think of this fearless trust that both Aaron and Penelope cling to.

  I just don’t get it.

  I’m suddenly rest
less. I try to find a comfortable position on the lumpy pallet. Nothing works. Finally, I climb to my feet and fall into the recliner, relighting the candle. The shadows creep back in the warm, orange glow. I rest my head on the back of the chair and stare at the ceiling.

  Penelope says her god knows what will become of us, but her god isn’t here. I need to focus on a strategy; it’s easier said than done. My mind tumbles around every possible idea, but I don’t know where to begin or who to turn to. I only know that my family is stuck inside the city, and I have to get to them. I promised Ava I would help her figure things out, and I won’t break that promise.

  I sigh, dropping my face into my hands, and my thoughts randomly turn to Kyle Stevenson and his talk of the Rovers. If only I knew where they were . . . or if they’ve heard of the siege at all.

  Leaning back, I catch sight of Penelope’s book on the table. I pick it up, and I really look at it this time.

  Uneven pages poke out of the binding. It looks homemade, and when I open it, I know it is. Some of the pages are handwritten in sharp script that varies; others are printed pages—as if they’ve been pieced together over time by more than one person. I thumb through them, stop, and read one section.

  “Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God—this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”

  I lift a brow, close the book, holding the place with my thumb. I read the title. Scriptures.

  “Hmmm.”

  I return to my place, read some more. Most of it is a mystery to me, but some of it sounds nice. Comforting. So this is where Penelope gets her bizarre ideas. At least it lends a nice distraction.

  I spread out on the pallet, and I read some more—late into the night—until some of the words begin to make too much sense, and others make no sense at all. But I can’t deny that all my anxiety vanishes into the words, and soon I can no longer keep my eyes open. And the darkness wins me over.

  But in my sleep . . . I see light.

  Chapter 7

  T

  he sound of hushed voices tickles my ears. I lie on my stomach on top of the pallet, a river of drool sliding over my lower lip to pool on the pillow. I wrench an eye open. The curtains are drawn, and only a thin line of light leaks through to cast a bright mark on the floor a few inches from me. I study it, watch as it slowly stretches another centimeter, before I roll onto my back to stare at the ceiling. It stares back. I release a puff of stale air and wipe my mouth.

  Today will be a good day, I promise myself.

  The Scriptures lay on the floor next to me, and I scoop up the book with a yawn and stare at the front cover. How much of this did I read last night? I flip through the pages before tossing the book into the chair.

  I stretch, catching the sounds of the voices again. They come from Kate’s room—quiet, barely above a whisper, and I lie still, listening without meaning to. I catch the words “fever” and “injuries” but what causes me to prop up on one elbow and listen more closely is “Serum.” Surprised, I hold still, straining.

  It’s impossible to hear much without getting a little closer. I never meant to eavesdrop, but . . .

  I climb to my feet and move to the door. It’s cracked enough for me to peer in undetected, but from this angle, the end of Kate’s bed is all I see. Her feet are a bump of blankets. I don’t see Penelope, but Claudia stands at the foot of the bed, one hand resting on the metal railing. She grips it, then loosens her fingers. Her blonde hair hangs in a long braid down the back of her lab coat.

  “Do you have any?” Claudia walks around the other side of the bed until she’s facing me. She isn’t wearing her glasses today, and I notice how round her eyes are under high-arched brows. The curtains are open wide, and the early light flushes the room in a creamy white shade that makes the wood floor darker.

  “No. I have no need for Serum. I’ll practice medicine the old fashioned way, thank you.”

  Claudia touches Kate’s hand gently where it lies next to her thigh. “But if you had some…” Her voice trails a moment before she takes up the sentence again. “What I would give to see a healing like that. It would almost be a miracle.”

  “Almost,” Penelope answers with a smile in her voice. She comes into view, her strong back to me as she works over Kate. Her dark hair is tied in a knot at the nape of her neck, and her tall frame contrasts Claudia’s much smaller features. “The Serum is both a blessing and a curse. I wouldn’t give it to anyone without consent. An opinion on which Eden and I differ greatly.”

  “Right.” Claudia crosses her arms over her chest, and tilts her head to the side. “I remember. It’s why you left.”

  The statement rings with a familiar vibe. It’s not a new topic between them. Penelope doesn’t respond immediately, but it’s clear Claudia knows some things about the Serum. I hold still, anticipating Penelope’s next words.

  “It’s one reason I left, along with a number of others.” Penelope shakes her head despondently. “There came a point when the Board and I no longer saw eye to eye.” Penelope pauses, swings her stethoscope from around her neck and plugs it into her ears. “When my brother and I no longer saw eye to eye.”

  Claudia simply nods. Penelope continues to examine Kate. After a few silent seconds, she drapes the scope back around her neck and moves out of sight. Claudia reaches for a blood pressure cuff and eases it around Kate’s arm. She takes the pump and squeezes it several times, pressing two fingers against Kate’s wrist. I push the door open another inch, catching a glimpse of the dirty window spotted with water stains from last night’s storm.

  “So if you had some Serum, you really wouldn’t give it to Kate?” Claudia asks, and I jolt back with shock. She removes the cuff and folds it over her own forearm. “Not this time, even?”

  What?

  My heart thumps once, and I shove the door wide. At the sight of me, Claudia freezes, and her round eyes, like orbs, widen one degree more before they shift toward Penelope.

  Penelope spots me. She blinks.

  “Ian,” she says with a small nod of her head. Her voice remains steady, unsurprised. “Good morning. How did you sleep?”

  I don’t respond. I walk past her to the bed. Claudia lays the blood pressure cuff down and takes a step back, her eyes never leaving me. I study Kate. The bandage around her forehead is gone, revealing a large purplish-green bruise overlaid by a couple of stitches. Her hair has been washed, the damp tresses splayed out across the pillow. Her chest rises and falls with ease, her coloring has returned, and my lungs explode with an enormous sigh of relief. But I don’t let it show. I lock my hard eyes on Claudia’s pale face.

  “She looks good,” I say, a cynical clip to my voice.

  Claudia nods rapidly. She attempts a half-smile that fades almost instantly. Her hands scurry to hide inside her lab coat.

  “So . . . she won’t . . . be needing any Serum, then?”

  I intentionally fill my voice with sarcasm. Her face drains of color. She visibly swallows, and with a shift of her head, defers the question to Penelope. My eyes follow.

  Penelope sighs heavily. “Claudia, you can go. I’ll come for you later.”

  Claudia gladly edges past the bed and exits quickly. It doesn’t matter if she stays or goes. All of my searing energy points to Penelope. She gently closes the cabinet door. It snaps into place with a sharp click. I wait.

  “You weren’t meant to hear any of that,” she says quietly.

  “No kidding.” I cross my arms over my chest in a challenge. “But if you’re going to spill that kind of information to an Outsider, you’d better be ready to explain it to me.”

  “She’s not just any Outsider. She’s my sister in law. And my assistant.”

  I merely shrug. It makes no difference to me. An Outsider is an Outsider. Penelope slowly pulls off one plastic medical glove, and then t
he other, and wads them together into a tight ball in her clenched fist. I fight to keep my cool even as my heart pounds.

  “How can you give Kate Serum?”

  She shakes her head, raises both hands with a halting gesture. “I didn’t. I won’t.”

  She drops the gloves into a bucket and whisks out of the room. I follow her into the living room.

  “But you could. Isn’t that what Claudia meant? If you had some, you could.”

  She scoops up one of the blankets from my pallet. “Yes.”

  I gawk at her, frozen to my spot. “How?”

  She folds the blanket, sets it aside, and reaches for another, her movements brisk.

  “Eden has kept some awfully big secrets.” She doesn’t look at me. “More than you could possibly know. And this siege has turned the world upside down. I’m not sure you’re ready for me to burden you with anything more.”

  I shake my head. “You’re wrong. I know things already.” When her eyes glint with doubt, I add, “I know the toxin is leaking.”

  She pauses in the middle of her folding and squints at me, surprised.

  “Diana’s daughter, Tabitha, was exposed to the toxin,” I continue. “On the other side of the river.”

  “The other side . . .” She lowers her hands, the half-folded blanket clutched tightly in her fists. “And how would you know this?”

  “Because I was with her.”

  She blinks, her mouth falling open slightly, but I pretend not to notice. To keep from crumbling under the weight of my confessions, I ignore her reactions completely.

  “Both Doc Phillips and my dad swear there are no leaks and that precautions are taken to make sure of it. But I know what I saw. Tabitha drowned in her own blood.”

  I pause, a sick feeling rising in my belly, but I can’t stop now. I forge on.

  “Then, I find out that there are four entrances into Eden. Four,” I reemphasize. “That’s a lot of places for potential leaks. Not to mention all the tunnel hatches.”

  Penelope simply stares at me now, the blankets forgotten.

  “I have no idea how many. A lot, I think. And the Rovers.” My eyes pierce her. “Do you know about them?”