“And others,” Persia said.
I bowed my head. “True.” I had always focused on Pete but Nathan, a bear shifter and Harriet Ashley’s loyal lieutenant, had also died. Additionally, many other shifters whose names I’d never even learned had fought and died by my side in this spot.
“Our grief does nothing for them,” Persia said. “We can only honor them by finishing what we all started.”
“I’m not sure either grief nor honor really matters after death.”
“Which would you prefer: empty tears or for your death to mean something?”
“I’d be dead. I wouldn’t be able to care.”
Persia turned her shoulders, presenting me her stiff back, then she headed through the gates, which hung open.
Once again, I was left following in Persia’s wake. “What did he mean by monsters?”
“Scared?” she asked. “Should I have left you in the taxi to give you and the driver a chance to hug and comfort each other?”
“No need to bite. I’m the one who’ll have to protect you if it comes to that.”
“So you want me to be fearful because I am no longer a sentinel?” Persia still didn’t turn around to face me. “Or you want me kiss your ass because you remain one?”
I stopped, waiting for her to pull ahead before continuing after her. Persia had it right at the start—best to keep the conversation between us to a minimum.
From the distance, the shape of the prison was that of burnt bread that had failed to rise: a lopsided blackened sludge. As I got closer, I could make out individual beams and collapsed sheets of metal. At the edge of the structure of the prison, Persia hesitated, clearly unsure which direction to take.
Spotting a well-used track in the grass, I followed that, coming upon a triangle-shaped gap in the wreckage. The track led through the gap so I turned to the side, ducked my head, and crabbed my way into a makeshift passageway. Rubble had been shoved to either side, clearing the way forward, so I continued further inside. Persia came up behind me. I sensed she wanted to overtake me, but the passageway was narrow and I didn’t move aside for her. Have her follow me this time, I decided.
Veins of frozen metal ran along beams, making them look like melted candlesticks, a reminder of how hot the fire had been. Other metal had been squashed and contorted into random—yet strangely artful—shapes. I hesitated to touch anything, though, of course, it had been a long time since Duffy’s fire had burned the place. Diagonal shafts of light cut across my path, and charcoal crunched under my feet. The place had a ghostly feel, and the deeper inside we went, the darker it became. At times, I walked through corridors that seemed almost intact and untouched; at other times, I had to bend almost double and contort my shoulders inward to pass. At every point, the way forward was clear—this entry into the depths of the prison was well used.
Just as I was beginning to regret not bringing a flashlight—or having a mobile with a flashlight app—I spotted a light. I hurried my steps, anxious to escape the darkness. The passageway widened to a space which I immediately recognized as the room where the Searing had occurred.
Temporary lights with their cables hanging loose were fixed to the ceiling. Bits of machinery lay open, its electronics and wires bare, machinery that Kressan had used to first create shadiers—humans who gained power from Brimstone without being possessed by elementals from there—then to cause fire sentinels to lose their power.
Persia, who had followed me out the passageway, began to circle the room. She had a pensive look on her face, and I remembered that this was the last time Noah had been conscious. Even after all this time, broken glass still lay on the floor in places, glass from the chambers that held Alex and me. Vividly, the memory returned: Noah, having broken free of his captors, pounded on the outside of the chamber, begging me not to bring about the Searing. I hadn’t listened. I still had no idea if it was Noah’s proximity to me which had caused the power to backfire against him, injuring him so badly. Being inside the chamber had unexpectedly insulated me from the Searing; perhaps Noah, being so close to the outside of the chamber, had felt an augmented effect.
I became aware that Persia and I weren’t alone. A small wizened dusty figure had her head bent over some of the open machinery. The figure looked up, wiped her face as she straightened, then rushed toward me. “Rune. You’re back!”
I recognized first the smile, then the voice. It was Jo. We embraced fiercely, and I successfully fought back tears. As we separated, I wiped dust off her forehead. “I heard to expect monsters here. But it’s just you.”
“Maybe you don’t really know me.” She gave a bright laugh. “No. Shifters have been assigned to protect the place. The titanium is valuable, of course, and scavengers would be all over the place, except we make sure that civilians that get too close are frightened within an inch of their lives. The guards were told to let you two through.”
“Harriet Ashley still in charge then?”
Jo shook her head. “Harriet is in another part of the world—Lusteer is at the center of the supernatural war but not the only place where we fight—so Flavini leads us for now. You remember him?
“How could I forget?” I grimaced, fingering my barbed-wire necklace. “Do we trust him?”
“Allies are in short supply,” Jo said. “He’s doing a good job, making the best of a bad situation. We are badly outnumbered compared to both the Sentinel Order and Duffy’s minions. Luckily, neither side have yet shown any interest in this prison.”
“I saw Ally,” I said, reminded by Jo’s mention of Duffy’s minions.
“You did?” Ally was a good friend of Jo’s.
“She shot a fireball at me.”
Jo sighed. “It’s not her who did it. Not really. Duffy completely controls fire shades within his orbit.”
“We aren’t just losing allies, but friends and family too.”
“Pete’s death will never cease to be a heart-breaker,” Jo said.
I nodded.
“I hope you don’t blame yourself for Pete’s choices. He could have decided to spend that Tuesday like he’d spent every Tuesday for the last however many years, smoking weed and speaking empty words. Instead, he chose to stand for a cause that is truly righteous. Sometimes a single moment makes a life well-lived.”
I closed my eyes. “I was with him at the end. He said that he’d no regrets, that he was proud to have made a difference.”
Jo’s arms wrapped around me. “Let’s hug in his memory.”
“Thanks.” It was just a brief hug, a silly nothing compared to the death of a friend, but it made me feel better. “To family lost.”
“Pete was family, it’s true,” Jo said. Then her voice sharpened. “You include Alex as family lost?”
“Yes, and lost in a much worse way than Pete was.”
“You’d prefer he be dead?”
“I’d prefer that he hadn’t led us all into a trap.” My voice sounded harsh to my own ears.
“We’ve all made mistakes,” Jo said.
“What he did wasn’t a mistake.” My gaze suddenly swept the room, then I focused on her, accusingly.
At first, Jo averted her gaze from me, then she defiantly stared back at me. “He’s not here. But he’s still my brother. That can never change.”
“He can be a biological brother without being considered true family.” The Sentinel Order had promised Alex the power of Brimstone in return for his betrayal. “His treachery was responsible for Pete’s death.”
“You don’t have to look at me like that,” Jo said. “I don’t know what happened to him. I haven’t seen him since he fled the prison.”
I searched Jo’s face, but I saw indication she was lying. “In the explosion, he was struck by the fire summoning crystal,” I said. “I’m not sure what that means, but something tells me it didn’t kill him. Perhaps he gained that power he sought.”
“Do we have to talk about him now? Don’t we have enough to torture ourselves with?”
Persia had stayed off to the side to give us some space; Jo now beckoned her over. “How’s Noah doing?” Jo asked.
Persia approached. “The same.”
“There’s still hope,” Jo said. “While he still breathes, there’s always hope.”
“So I keep telling myself.” Persia’s crooked smile was a paper thin veneer which didn’t hide the raw pain underneath. “I could have done without the reminders of what happened to him that day.” She gestured at the innards of the machinery which had caused the Searing. “What are you doing here?”
“Trying to learn all I can,” Jo said.
“Why?” I gave a nearby motherboard a kick and it skittered across the floor.
“Careful with that.” Jo scrambled after the motherboard and picked it up. She blew dust off it and examined it critically. “This came from Kressan’s computer. Some of the hard drive is intact, though I haven’t been able to hack into the password protected files. It could be a goldmine.”
“Hasn’t this machinery caused enough trouble?” Persia asked. “It’s a pity Duffy didn’t destroy this room along with the rest of the prison. That way, he’d at least have done one thing right.”
“Learning how to manipulate the connection between Brimstone could be a key to victory,” Jo said. “We can’t allow the Order to be the only ones with that knowledge.”
“The Order apparently now has the capability to design machines that can track fire sentinels,” I said. “Namely, me.”
“So I heard,” Jo said.
So Holliday hadn’t been lying. “How do you know that?”
“I joined on online forum where the science of Brimstone is discussed and analyzed. There’s lots of talk about what the Order is working on. Some of the discussions on the forum are leading edge in the field; several of the smarter contributors were recruited by the Order. They even tried to recruit me.”
“Be careful,” I said. “The Sentinel Order doesn't mess around.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to hide my identity online,” Jo said. “I’ve been doing that since before I was a teen.”
“Let’s get back to the mission to stop Duffy,” Persia said. “Flavini mentioned a reception in Verge Tower tomorrow night.”
Jo grimaced. “I’m not sure everything will be in place in time for that.”
“It’s really possible then?” Persia said. “We have formulated a viable way to defeat the dragon?”
“We’ve gradually been putting together pieces of a plan,” Jo said. “Flavini just rang me about an hour ago and told me that Rune had volunteered to lure Duffy into our trap and that Persia would help him get in place.”
“I volunteered?”
“You said you’d come back to deal with Duffy,” Persia said. “You didn’t specify terms.”
“I assumed you insisted,” Jo said. “Are you saying you didn’t agree to this?”
I looked from Persia to Jo and back. It seemed I’d been volunteered to be human bait in a dragon-trap. I wasn’t sure whether I should laugh or cry, and in the end I just shrugged. I had created Duffy, and I was willing to do whatever it took to undo that mistake. “If that’s what’s needed, I’ll be your bait.”
Chapter 10
Thursday 16:50
For twenty plus hours, I did little except sleep.
Jo hadn’t come with us when Persia and I returned to Ten-two. I had wanted to stay in the attic bedroom which Alex, Jo, and I had once called home, but the upper floor had been unused since I’d departed, and mold, damp and rodents had returned in force. It was disheartening to think about how years of loving care and maintenance could be undone in not much more than half a year of abandonment. Persia had shown me to a different room, where I had collapsed asleep. I had briefly wakened with a ferocious hunger, raided the kitchen for whatever food I could get my hands on, eaten it, then returned to my room and instantly fallen back asleep.
Once fully rested, I decided to explore Ten-two, walking along corridors and opening doors at random. It was a big ramshackle building, and Persia had clearly ignored most of it while keeping the used sections of it tidy and well-ordered. One room, above the sickroom which held Noah, was empty of furniture, and the windows had been boarded up. I stepped inside, and my fingers fumbled against the wall until I found a switch.
A single bulb high up in the ceiling changed the darkness into a shadowy dimness. Bare floorboards creaked under my feet as I stepped further inside, quickly understanding what this room had been used for. All along the walls, targets were mounted, each one punctured by scores of holes. Persia clearly hadn’t just been nursing her husband during her stay at Ten-two.
A pattern of ropes hung from the ceiling, crossing from one side of the room to the other. I walked underneath them, trying to figure out their purpose. One section of rope dangled down to waist height; I gave it an experimental tug, then scrambled backward as a dark figure descended toward me.
My firesword sprang to life. The figure flashed past me, then swung back toward me again. Putting my back to the wall, my firesword flickered back and forth as I followed the movements. Then I chuckled, realizing that a flat wooden target had scared me. The target—roughly human shaped—swung back and forth several more times, then wobbled to a stop. My firesword disappeared, and I grabbed hold of the target to stop it spinning, then smiled to see how battered the poor thing was. Not only was it peppered with holes and dents, its ragged edges showed where chunks of wood had been sliced off. Persia’s anger had found an outlet here, but it was also where she had swapped hard sweat for combat skill.
My smile died. I had spent eight months at the lake cabin with never a thought for practicing my fighting ability—and it had showed when Holliday had arrived. I’d had little chance of beating him, and had only just managed to escape. And he was just one member of the Sentinel Order; Walker, the leader, was more of a warrior than Holliday; and the more pressing problem was Duffy and the fire shades he controlled. Persia, Jo, Flavini, I—we were massively outmatched. In the dream with Uro, the elemental had implied that he was willing to help against both Duffy and the Sentinel Order. How much of what he’d told me had been true? Perhaps none of it. Or could it all be? Sash, and many others before her, had believed in the elemental.
Whatever else you do, don’t trust Uro, Jerome thought.
Was he telling the truth about what he tried to do in Brimstone?
He’s not a friend. Don’t think to ally with him.
Of course not, I thought. I wouldn’t even consider it.
Why do you still lie when you know I can read your thoughts?
I’m not lying. You’re just reading me wrong. I paused. What if I have no choice though?
You don’t get to abdicate responsibility, Jerome thought. There’s always a choice.
Duffy can control fire shades.
Uro doesn’t work like that. He doesn’t compel. He’s persuasive, but he shouldn’t be trusted.
Can you be trusted, Jerome? In my experience, Jerome usually had an ulterior whenever he felt compelled to engage me. Could it be that he wanted to be the only voice in my head influencing me?
“What are you doing in here?”
I turned around to see Persia had entered behind me. “Just looking around.” I gestured at the targets throughout the room. “Nice shooting.”
“I have to compensate for the loss of my sentinel powers by becoming more skilled,” she said.
“That’s if you continue to fight. If you no longer have the power of a sentinel, then you no longer have the responsibility of one.”
Persia shook her head. “I can only stop when the battle is won or I’m dead.”
“Haven’t you ever thought we have too many enemies to just keep fighting without thought of compromise.”
“No. Now let’s go. Jo’s waiting in a van outside.” She exited, and the door shut behind her.
I took one fina
l walk around the training room, pausing to give the battered wooden target a sympathetic pat on its head—if Jo was taking us to attack Verge Tower, then possibly I’d envy that target before the night was out. I pushed through the door and went downstairs. Persia was waiting by the main door, holding it open. She waited until I went through, then she closed and locked it.
On the street, a dark van was parked with Jo in the driving seat. She gestured for me to climb into the passenger seat. I did so, then I shifted across to the middle and held the door open for Persia. She ignored me and instead walked around to the back of the van, opened the back door and climbed in, shutting it behind her.
I looked across at Jo, who shrugged, then she started the engine and put the van in gear.
“Aren’t you too young to drive?” I asked.
“I’m eighteen, Rune,” Jo said. “Keep up. The legal driving age is sixteen.”
“And you have a driving license?”
“The DMV hasn’t been open for many months.” Jo directed the van onto the road. Unsurprisingly, she drove competently. Jo did everything at least competently, often expertly. “Some parts of the city have kept running, other parts have been shuttered up.”
“No one will mourn the DMV. Perhaps Duffy’s arrival has had its upsides. Eighteen, huh? When did that happen?”
“On my last birthday. Strange how that works, huh?”
Jo had been fourteen when I first met her, and I guess I still pictured her at that age. “And I’m twenty-one,” I said, after a brief calculation in my head. “I’m old enough to buy beer.”
“Old enough, Rune, but are you responsible enough?”
I laughed. “I’ve been though more than your average twenty-one-year-old. You’d think I’d have learned enough life lessons by now.”
“You’d think,” Persia said from the back of the van.
“Aren’t you surprised to see me?” I asked Jo.
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