Burned and Scarred (Burn this City Book 2)

by Brenda Poppy

  After a moment’s delay, they trekked after him. Arriving at the table, the pair took their seats across from Imber, who was situated next to a genial middle-aged blond woman. She looked up as they sat down, smiling at them and exposing her slightly crooked teeth.

  “Hi! I’m Mags!” she said excitedly as two plates of food suddenly appeared before them.

  Burn didn’t know what to focus on first – Mags or the food. Her stomach growled as the savory scent of meat and grilled vegetables wafted up to her, but Mags’ look was so insistent that Burn turned her attention to the woman first.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Mags. Thank you for letting us join your table.” Burn wasn’t entirely sure what the right pleasantries for this situation were, and she hoped she’d provided a suitable enough response to placate the woman. Apparently she had, because the smile never left Mags’ face.

  “Oh, don’t you worry about it. We don’t have any seating plans around here. Just sit where you want. You’re guaranteed to make friends wherever you find yourself. That’s how I got to know my husband. I just sat down and started talking. Isn’t that right, hun?” She turned to face Imber.

  Burn was caught off guard. She hadn’t taken Imber as the marrying type – especially with someone as light and cheerful as Mags. But Imber smiled softly at his wife and nodded.

  “I was a goner the second she opened her mouth,” he said sweetly, bestowing a light peck on her cheek.

  “Oh, you are the charmer, aren’t you?” she said to Imber before turning her attention back on them. “Come on, eat! I’m sure you’re starving after what you’ve been through, but you can relax now. You’re home. Eat, eat!”

  She was so insistent that Burn scooped up a bit of food and put it into her mouth before she even had time to assess what it was. Thankfully, it was delicious. Although after the excitement of the day, Burn was certain that even a bowl of plain porridge would have tasted delicious.

  She glanced down and saw that she was eating some sort of thick stew, with large chunks of multi-colored vegetables and a meat Burn couldn’t quite place. Given Videre’s strange animal collection, though, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to place it.

  Despite the mystery meat, the soup went down easily – and quickly – warming Burn’s insides and clearing some of the remaining fog from her brain. Next to the stew was a chunk of warm, crusty bread, and Burn tore off a piece and dipped it into her soup.

  As they ate, Mags talked. And talked and talked. She seemed to be the unofficial one-woman welcoming committee, explaining the general layout of Videre, the division of labor, their agricultural pursuits, and their enviable spot in the wildlands.

  “But you have to be careful after dark, of course,” she went on. “We’re lucky here because we’re walled in and we close the gates at night. Some other camps aren’t as fortunate.”

  “Why? What’s out there?” Hale asked in between large spoonfuls of stew. His bowl was disappearing twice as fast as Burn’s, and she kept a possessive hold on hers in case he got any ideas.

  “Oh, of course you haven’t heard. It’s not safe out there at night,” she said, pointing in the direction of the city’s gates. “For one thing, it gets mighty cold. As Jez probably told you, as the suns set the heat goes with them. Plus, we get some of the worst dust storms at night. More than once I’ve woken up to find half the house covered in sand. Had to dig myself out!”

  She laughed lightly at the memory, although Burn couldn’t quite see what was so humorous about the incident.

  “Then there are the creatures,” Mags said, shaking her head at the thought.

  It was Burn’s turn to ask. Swallowing a bite of food, she inquired warily, “What creatures?” Once again, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to know.

  “Oh, there are all sorts. We don’t even know everything that roams around out there. It’s too dangerous to go and investigate, but there seem to be a lot of wolves. You’ll hear them howling at night. Although ‘wolves’ isn’t quite the right term. They’re much bigger than we’d thought, and faster, too. Then there are the sand bears.”

  Burn didn’t ask about that one. Neither did Hale. But Mags explained anyway.

  “We call them sand bears because they live in the dunes and come out at night. Well, mostly at night. They’re angry creatures, with sharp claws and big tufts of white fur. If you’re ever out there and you see a glimmer of white, you run. Run fast.”

  Burn and Hale stared at her, neither sure what to say in response. A response didn’t prove necessary, however, since she simply went on without them.

  “I look forward to seeing what you both can do. It’s always exciting when we get new recruits. My husband’s told me about your skills, of course, but I do enjoy seeing them in action – especially after you’ve been here a couple days and you start to get stronger. People love that part. They never want to go back.”

  Mags’ seemingly offhand remark sparked something in Burn’s mind, a question she’d wanted to ask since the moment she’d found herself alive at the bottom of the Pit.

  “Has anyone ever gone back?” she asked, trying to hide the eagerness in her voice. Because that was her goal. That was her plan even if she couldn’t verbalize it. She needed to go home, and she would do whatever it took to get there.

  “People don’t go back,” Imber said firmly. His face had lost the jovial quality he’d had when talking to his wife. Now he was all business.

  Burn turned to Mags, hoping for a different answer, but Mags just looked at her sadly. She was oddly quiet for a minute, and with each second that ticked by, Burn’s hope decreased little by little. Then Mags shook her head almost imperceptibly, and Burn’s heart sank.

  “No one has ever gotten back in, at least not that we know of. Plenty have tried. Some failed. Some died. Some never returned. But don’t go looking for that. I know you don’t know me well, but I pray that you’ll take my advice. There’s nothing for you back there. You could have a real future here, you and your husband. You could have a good life.”

  Burn nodded in response, as if taking her words to heart. Yet her mission remained firm in her mind.

  No matter what they said, she was going back to Kasis. She was going back to Scar.

  Chapter 6

  Scar knew something was wrong. Burn hadn’t returned the night before, and for some reason the messages Scar sent kept bouncing back. And now the Peace Force-sponsored news was reporting terrorist activity. She turned up the volume on her tab and listened to the bulletin that had been playing on repeat since early that morning.

  “Yesterday afternoon, two terrorist operatives, who are believed to be working with the extremist Lunaria organization, attacked the ventilation system that feeds the upper levels. Their motives for doing so remain unclear. The pair was apprehended by local Peace Force patrols and immediately sentenced to the Pit. We congratulate our brave officers who put their lives in danger to tackle this radical threat.”

  Scar’s heart pounded as she listened to the broadcast, certain they were talking about Burn and Hale.

  The news reader went on, “Minor damage was done to the air supply points that service the upper levels. The ventilation department has informed us that the area’s air quality may degrade slightly in the coming days. Citizens from those tiers are encouraged to stay inside and keep their doors and windows securely shut. Please be assured that crews are working night and day to restore order. As always, if you have any information regarding this or any other plot against our great government, you’re advised to contact the Peace Force immediately. Your safety is our top priority.”

  Minor damage. Yeah right, Scar thought. She’d bet anything that most – if not all – of the system was currently offline. It would take more than a few days to get that functioning again. At least she had that fact to hold onto. At least their mission hadn’t been a complete failure.

  Scar didn’t believe that Burn was dead. Surely she would have felt something – like a sudden
emptiness or a desperate yearning. Yet she hadn’t felt a thing.

  She knew she had to move, though. Disappear. If the Peace Force had discovered that Burn was behind the attack, it was only a matter of time before they came for her. It didn’t matter that she hadn’t done anything wrong. Well, at least not anything they knew of. What mattered was that she might have information – and they would do anything they could to get it.

  Scar packed quickly. She didn’t need a lot of things. Clothes and jewelry and trinkets didn’t matter to her. She did, however, grab as many of her tools and gadgets as possible, the things that couldn’t be easily replaced. What she couldn’t pack she stowed in secret cubbies under the floorboards, hoping the Peace Force wouldn’t be thorough enough to find them.

  Before leaving, she activated a few “special” security measures. They wouldn’t stop the Peace Force entirely, but they would definitely frustrate their attempts for a while. She also placed a few red herrings around the house, technological clues that, once deciphered, would lead them in all manner of wrong directions. Needless to say, Scar was pleased with herself.

  She left the house without looking back. There was nothing there for her anymore.

  Tucking her wild curls into the hood of her cloak, she made her way softly through the streets. Scar didn’t like being outside, didn’t like the way people looked at her – like she was a freak, like she was dangerous. Like she wasn’t even human.

  She tugged involuntarily at the fabric around her neck, making sure it covered the sleek metal of her skin. If she wore enough clothing, she could hide it – and hide herself in the process. If she didn’t…well, people didn’t take kindly to metal women, especially when they were afraid. And nowadays, people were terrified.

  The Peace Force had once again increased their patrols, interrogating anyone who looked out of place. Or anyone who looked like an easy target. It was best to stick to the shadows if you could. Thankfully, she’d had plenty of practice. She’d been slinking about in the shadows for as long as she could remember.

  It wasn’t difficult to find her destination. In reality, she’d only been there a handful of times, but she’d traced the route so often in her head that it felt like going home.

  The flowers and vines decorating the red door greeted her cheerfully, as if nothing bad had happened. Once upon a time, behind that very door, she had believed that nothing bad could happen, that she was invincible. She had been proven wrong in so many ways.

  The sight of it twisted something inside of her, and her throat constricted, making it difficult to draw breath. She had to force herself to breathe, in through the nose and out through the mouth. There was nothing hiding behind that door, nothing that could hurt her. Well, nothing besides memories. But sometimes those could hurt more than anything.

  Scar pushed the feelings down, relegating them to a deep, dark place within herself. She didn’t need to examine them now. Now was the time for a plan.

  Using the biometric bypass device she’d created, Scar let herself into the small house. She was sure Symphandra wouldn’t have minded. In fact, she probably would have been thrilled to see her home used as a safe haven. That’s just the kind of person she’d been.

  Inside, the home felt musty, as if no one had been there in months. Although, to be fair, no one had. Yet somehow, despite the stale air, it still smelled like Symphandra: citrusy and spicy, like an exotic tea. Despite the memories that attempted to break free, the smell was comforting and familiar, providing a little bit of consistency in a world of unknowns.

  Scar turned on the lights, blinking as the soft yellow bulbs sprang to life and illuminated the rainbow of colors that decorated the small space. Scar had always liked it here. It felt like Symphandra – warm and welcoming and colorful. Symphandra hadn’t worried about standing out, even in a world as cruel as this one.

  Scar dumped her luggage onto one of the brightly colored couches. Unzipping one of the bags and digging through its contents, she emerged with a compact silver box, which she immediately took to the door. After pressing a few hidden buttons along its side, a small steel bar shot out. She affixed the contraption tightly to the door and its frame, creating a virtually unbreakable seal, like a mechanical deadbolt. It was one of Scar’s own inventions and would keep out even those who managed to bypass the biometric scanner. One could never be too careful, especially in such dangerous times.

  With the house secured, Scar began to unpack. Her tools and contraptions and gadgets posed a stark contrast to the soft furnishings in the space. The well-worn steel and mess of wiring seemed so strange lying amongst the pillows and rugs and tapestries. That was what she and Symphandra must have looked like – a mismatched combination of pretty colors and hard metal. But despite their differences, they had fit. And now, so did her things.

  After she’d finished emptying her luggage, Scar got down to business. Her only goal now was to find her sister – find her and bring her home – but she couldn’t do it alone.

  Scar whipped out her tab and began typing. She read the message once, then again, making sure it was perfect. Encrypting the text to hide it from prying eyes, she hit send.

  Throughout the city, in houses and factories, on street corners and thoroughfares, the Lunaria were called to action. “Tonight at 7. They’ve taken Burn. It’s time for a plan.”

  ✽✽✽

  Burn couldn’t breathe. She lurched up in bed, coughing and sputtering, trying to draw air into her lungs. Its strange chemical makeup made the process difficult, and she had to force herself to take long, steady breaths rather than frantic gulps. She hated this place.

  Next to her, Hale slept soundly, oblivious to her struggles. She wanted to kick him, to literally roll him off the bed and onto the floor, but she knew she couldn’t. It wasn’t because they had to maintain the charade of being married. She was certain that plenty of couples kicked each other out of bed. It was more that Hale had the body mass of a small to medium boulder, and she couldn’t budge him if she tried. And, yes, she had tried.

  Burn couldn’t tell what time it was. The light streaming in the window was bright and consistent, but she didn’t know what that meant out here. Back home, it was always a little bit dim, with the light from the suns broken by the tiers above them and the smog around them. But here, with nothing to block the rays, the suns seemed too bright, too direct, as if their light wasn’t meant to be experienced without a shield.

  She thought back to what Jez had said about the radiation enhancing their gifts. The suns were, in fact, mutating them more, taking them even further from the norm and placing them forever in the category of “other.” She didn’t need that. She was fine with the way she was. Besides, hearing more wouldn’t help her get home. Unless she could hear all the way into Kasis, enhanced hearing wouldn’t do her much good. Not in this barren wasteland.

  Burn gave up on sleep and rolled out of bed, her feet hitting the floor with a loud thud. She glanced over at Hale, hoping the sound might have jarred him awake, but he remained where he was, his eyes shut and his breathing even. This marriage was already getting on her nerves, and they hadn’t even been married a day. Burn briefly envisioned spending a lifetime with him and flinched. She definitely needed to find a way out of there.

  She padded to the bathroom, listening to the world around her as she walked. Everyone else in Videre already seemed to be awake. The city was abuzz with life and conversation, plus all manner of sounds Burn wasn’t accustomed to. The oinking of piglets in a pen. Sand being swept off porches. Rocky soil being tilled for crops. The foreign sounds made Burn feel all the more out of place, as if these noises belonged to someone else’s life and not hers.

  Entering the bathroom, Burn shut the door behind her and sighed, enjoying the brief solitude. With Hale always by her side, she’d hardly found a moment for herself. Finally alone, she let down her guard, giving in to the feelings that lurked like an ever-present shadow in her mind.

  She missed Scar bitterly. Bur
n felt hollow in her absence, and her heart pounded an aching melody of loss and regret. She allowed a single tear to escape and roll down her cheek before composing herself.

  Burn turned on the taps connected to the small tub, and a meager stream of water spilled out into the basin. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to wash away the sand and dirt and sweat that had accumulated on her skin. With the help of a sweet-smelling soap, she rubbed off the traces of the previous day, leaving herself feeling almost normal. Almost, but not quite.

  She changed into some of the clothes that Luce had left for her, which included a thin white blouse and tan linen pants. They weren’t new by any means, but they were clean and soft and relatively free of holes. Imber had informed them that the city’s seamstresses would deliver some new clothes to them in the coming days, but for now they had to content themselves with castoffs.

  Looking at herself in the mirror, Burn saw the same short brown hair, narrow chin, and dark eyes that always stared back at her. Today they were set in a somber expression, some combination of mourning for her old life and a steely resolve to get it back. To most people, she probably just looked angry. That wasn’t a bad thing, she decided. She didn’t need to make friends here.

  Her morning routine complete, she crossed back to the bedroom. She was glad to see that Hale was finally up, yawning and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Morning,” she said briefly by way of a greeting.

  He grunted in response, giving credence to Burn’s theory that he wasn’t a morning person. Turning away from him, she put her head in her hands, rubbing her face and trying to quiet the headache that had emerged behind her temples. She tried to clear her thoughts, pushing the noise of Videre to the back of her mind.

  “I could really go for some breakfast,” Hale mumbled, almost too low for Burn to hear.

  “What?” she asked, spinning around to face him.

  Hale looked at her, confused. “I didn’t say anything,” he said, his face a mask of innocence.