Relapse (Breakers Book 7)

by Edward W. Robertson

  She reached for the liquor. "Give me that."

  He gave her the bottle. She should have thought to crush up the pills. Too late now. Anyway, unless he were to finish the whole bottle, she doubted if the poison would act quickly enough. She took a drink. While her throat was still burning, she took another, longer. The man grinned lopsidedly and took back the bottle.

  "Now it's a party." He sat on the foot of the bed. "Is it true? Were you really the queen of Catalina?"

  "We don't have kings or queens. But I ruled it for a time."

  "Well, I've never been with a queen before."

  She took the bottle from him and drank again. Already, her body felt warm, her brain swaddled.

  "It's a strange thing." She gestured about herself. "In my land, we have nothing like this. Yet you all treat it like it is the most natural thing."

  "What could be more natural than a man and a woman having a little fun together?"

  "When the man and the woman both wish to be there. In my lands, we don't have any of your 'midnight doves.'"

  "Right. Women been hooking since the first day there were men and women."

  "We may have some who employ themselves in this manner. We do not police what people want to do with themselves. But if they choose this life, they choose it freely. Women aren't kept locked up."

  The man rolled his eyes. "You do know most of the girls choose to be here?"

  "And what of the ones who have no choice?"

  "They're troublemakers. Lawbreakers. Like you. This is their community service."

  "Community service," she said. "What happens when a man breaks the law?"

  He waved toward the window. "Where do you think the field workers come from?"

  "Curious. Judging by the numbers, I would say you have an epidemic of crime—or a system of justice that is hungry for offenders."

  "Who gives a shit? For most of us, it works just fine. And it has for years. How many places can you say that about?" The man's smile faded. "You drunk yet?"

  "Almost."

  She took the bottle again and went to the window. She had another drink. The sun was gone, but the last of its light sat on the horizon of the sea in a fat, straight rainbow, each band of color distinct from the others. The day stood between two realms. Soon, night would reign. But in that moment, she could believe that the world still had a choice between gold and silver.

  Yet it always chose the same path: day into night, night into day. There had been a time when she had acted with the same surety, knowing the answer the same moment the choice was presented to her. Then, she had begun to doubt. Let herself be swayed from her path and thus lost her connection to the deeper ways. And found herself here.

  There would be no compromise. Not of herself. Not of her goals. Not by the methods she used to reach them.

  She had one more drink and set the bottle on the dresser. She blew out the candles. The sweet smoke of their extinction filled the room.

  She turned to face the man. "What would you like to do?"

  "Take off your shirt," he said huskily.

  She lowered her eyes. "Turn around, please."

  He snorted. "What's it matter?"

  "It's my first time."

  His eyebrows shot up. "Whatever you say."

  He turned his back to her, thumbs tucked into his pockets. She unzipped her jeans and slid them to the floor.

  "Don't worry," he said. "I'll be gentle."

  "Thank you." She reached for the dresser. "I won't."

  She smashed the bottle into the back of his skull. The glass broke, showering him in stinking liquor. He cried out and fell to his knees, clutching his scalp, which was bleeding profusely. Raina grabbed him by the hair and pulled, bending his neck backwards. She slashed the bottle's jagged edge across his exposed throat.

  He gurgled, blood spewing from his mouth. She continued to pull at his hair, planting a foot in the small of his back so he couldn't get up. He thrashed side to side like an alligator without a tail, smearing blood across the hardwood.

  He went still.

  Raina stood, hands awash in blood. Someone knocked on the door. A woman said, "Everything okay in there?"

  Raina didn't know the lay of the path before her, yet she moved forward without question, trusting the way would appear beneath her feet as she walked. She began to moan, as she had heard women do through the windows of their houses on summer nights when she roamed the streets by moonlight. Outside, the woman chuckled and walked away down the hall.

  Raina stripped the sheets from the bed and used one to mop up the blood, then the second to wrap up the man. Much blood remained, however, as did the body. The gaps between the window bars were much too small to squeeze it through.

  She paused there, gazing out on the grounds, not so much thinking of her next step as preparing her mind to receive it. Then, down the path toward the gates, a single rider galloped toward the palace, a torch flapping in his hand. His face was covered in blood.

  In no hurry whatsoever, Raina fetched the door key from the dead man's pocket. A minute later, shouts rang outside the palace, carried inside as if borne by owls. Feet thumped along the hall and down the stairs. After the initial flurry faded, knuckles rapped her door.

  "Thomas?" Georgia called. "Sir Thomas, please come out. Something terrible's happened!"

  Raina unlocked the door and opened it two inches. "I wouldn't say it was that bad."

  "Raina, Lady Winslowe has been murdered!" Georgia filled her voice with so much shock that Raina almost believed the woman felt it. "It was the Sworn. They lured her out and they killed her!"

  "How sad to lose such a noble, honorable woman." Raina pulled Georgia inside. "I need your help. There is a dead man on the floor. If he is still there when the ruckus dies down, someone may draw the conclusion I had something to do with it."

  Georgia's jaw fell open. "Good news. We've been dreaming about something like this for years."

  She exited into the hall. Raina locked the door. Outside, people shouted, angry and confused. A rider tore down the path away from the palace.

  Georgia returned with three other women. One of them pulled the sheet from Sir Thomas' head, smiling when she saw his face. They heaved his body into a laundry cart. While Raina, Georgia, and a third woman wheeled the cart into the hall, the other two went to work on the stains on the floor.

  They took the cart to another room. Georgia thrust open the unbarred window and they dumped the body into the back yard. It landed with a meaty thud. From the courtyard, a gun went off. It was answered by a second. The shouting grew louder. The back yard was empty, however, and the three of them descended to it and dragged Sir Thomas downhill into a field of tall weeds.

  "We can dispose of it tomorrow," Georgia said. "But there's no getting through the gates tonight."

  Uphill, the palace flickered with the light of many torches. Raina said, "It's all right. For now, all that matters is he isn't in my room."

  They washed up and returned to the rear of the palace. In the courtyard, the shouts had turned into cheers. Raina wandered out the front door. Men surrounded Cinder, hoisting her into the air. Torches reflected in her glasses, making her eyes appear as twin flames.

  "We will not let this death go unanswered," Cinder said. "Tonight, we mourn—and tomorrow, we fight."

  Cheers thundered across the night. Raina went to her room upstairs. Revelry echoed through the palace until the latest of hours. She didn't get a chance to speak to Cinder until the following morning.

  Cinder looked tired, but she also looked like she hadn't quit smiling since Winslowe's death. "Last night was insane. Played out just like we'd scripted. As soon as they heard the People of the Stars had killed Lady Winslowe, they were baying for blood. Crowned me on the spot."

  Raina bowed. "Congratulations, Your Majesty."

  Cinder's smile faltered. "You're not happy. Why aren't you happy?"

  "There is much I admire about your land. But one thing troubles me. The so-cal
led 'midnight doves.' I think it is time they were released from their servitude."

  Cinder laughed. "And lose control of the knights? They're here for two things: pussy and liquor. Take that away, and you'll be fighting your war by yourself."

  "They will adjust, milady. If you tie their loyalty to you rather than to their vices, in time, they will be the stronger for it."

  "And then what? I free the field hands, too? So we've got nothing to eat, the military's ready to riot, and we've just cut loose a bunch of convicts."

  "Do you feel that enforced servitude is a fair punishment for their crimes?"

  Cinder shrugged her shoulders high. "For some of them? Totally. For others, it's kind of harsh, but what are you going to do with them instead? Lock them up? So they're eating our food and taking up space and we get nothing back?"

  "Perhaps this would be a good time to declare amnesty for the lesser offenders. Start your reign on a note of hope."

  "The punishment's about more than giving back to the kingdom. It also deters the shit out of other offenders." The woman stared at her through her glasses. "Did you come here to reform our penal system? Or do you want my help against the People of the Stars?"

  "Of course I do." Raina inclined her head. "I look forward to fighting at your side."

  Raina's house arrest had ended with Winslowe's life. From Cinder, she headed straight to the clubhouse where Mauser was being held.

  "Jesus rollerskating Christ," he said. "You were behind it, weren't you? Why didn't you tell me you were about to pull off this ludicrous coup?"

  "Because I wanted to keep you out of danger," Raina said. "But I have failed. I have failed everyone."

  "What are you talking about? Your girl Cinder is queen and the death of her rival has been pinned on your sworn enemy. The only way this could be better is if you opened your pocket and Anson's severed head rolled out."

  "You don't understand. Cinder can't be allowed to lead. We must kill her, too."

  21

  Beneath him on the basement floor, Randy's eyes bulged. The boy tried to speak, but his mouth was muffled by Lowell's hand. Lowell kept the knife to Randy's throat. His brain went into vapor lock. If it were a man, Lowell would already be dragging the bloody carcass beneath a sack of oats. Finding the rod was paramount. If that allowed the aliens to leave, then the only remaining threat to Los Angeles would be that posed by other humans.

  He withdrew from the idea of murder as deliberately as he'd back away from a timber rattler. If Lowell killed Randy, he wouldn't be around to see the alien's departure. Because his next move would be to eat a bullet.

  Besides, the fact Randy was young left him with other options.

  "I'm going to remove my hand," Lowell said. "You're not going to scream. And we're going to talk. Okay?"

  The boy nodded. Lowell withdrew his palm and wiped the boy's spit on his jeans.

  "You followed me, didn't you, Randy?"

  Randy licked his lips. "I couldn't sleep, so I went downstairs. I saw you go to the basement. I thought I could help you find whatever you were looking for."

  "Do you know this basement well?"

  Randy nodded. "Whenever my dad comes to meet with the Council, I come down here. There's some pretty neat things."

  "I bet you're wondering what I'm doing here."

  The boy hesitated, then nodded again.

  "It's a secret," Lowell said. "One that's very important not only to L.A., but also to Catalina. To everyone. I'd very much like your help, but you can't tell anyone, you got me? The people here, they'll think I'm stealing. They'll think I was sent to steal. If things fall apart between us, a lot of people could get hurt."

  He backed off of Randy and stood. The boy sat up, dusting off his shirt. "Mr. Lowell, I want to help, but this is… very strange."

  "Because I am here to steal." Lowell leaned against the stone wall. "You know what's down here, right? Is there anything here I could take that would cause harm to the people of Catalina?"

  "No." Randy got up, then cocked his head. "Unless you found a way to carry five tons of barley upstairs."

  He laughed, then grew serious. He got the drawing of the alien rod from his pocket. "Have you seen this down here?"

  Randy kept his eyes on the illustration. "I'm not sure. What is it?"

  "Don't lie to me, Randy."

  The boy glanced up. "What do you mean?"

  "You recognized the piece. I saw it in your eyes."

  "What is it?"

  "It's one of your 'neat things,' isn't it? I bet you found it and put it somewhere safe. Somewhere that other people wouldn't think to look. I'm right, aren't I?" He let his hand form a fist. "Tell me!"

  Randy nodded, chin wobbling, eyes watery. "Over here."

  He led Lowell to a room filled with computer parts that would never be used again. It was dusty and smelled like rubber. Guided by his flashlight, which he may well have found down here, Randy squeezed through a jumble of desktop tower husks and reached under a desk shoved against the wall. Bent over, his back was as round as a cowrie shell.

  He came up clutching the rod. It was a foot long and a little thicker than his thumb, matte gray and largely featureless except for a flared ball at its tip. This was also gray. It didn't look like much, but in Lowell's hand, it felt as heavy as a gun.

  "I'm sorry I yelled at you," Lowell said.

  "It's okay." Randy smiled hesitantly. "Can you give me just a hint?"

  "It's alien. And it's very, very good news."

  Upstairs, he hid the rod in his kit and went to sleep. On his way back to the mainland, Lowell had time to feel bad about treating Randy the way Nolan must treat him every day.

  Least he hadn't killed the kid.

  * * *

  When Lowell delivered the object to the Heart, Anson seemed more relieved than happy. In return for his service, Anson granted him another vacation he didn't particularly want. On the other hand, there wasn't a whole lot for him to do. The war with Catalina was over and the ground was laid for the diplomats—and Anson—to start official negotiations. Soon, the island would become another territory of the People of the Stars.

  The aliens were on their way out, too. For good this time. All the madness, intrigue, and the ongoing fear that the crabsters were biding their time, hatching a second plague, maybe—that would leave with them. Lowell wondered if people were ready for it. They'd been defining themselves by their resistance to the aliens for the last seven years. Without that outside source to pour their anger on, they'd have to face the stark truth: the old world was gone, forever, and most of them would never be anything more than small-acre farmers.

  The only loose end left was Raina. With everything else in hand, Lowell felt compelled to track her down, and keenly regretted giving up his pursuit of her in the hills. He knew that one was on Anson—the blond man had kept him so info-starved that Lowell had started to make bad decisions—but Lowell didn't care who was to blame.

  He cared that she was the last remaining wild card. And it troubled him that she'd been moving in the general direction of San Diego. He didn't know how she could possibly ingratiate herself to the kingdom whose regent she'd put to the sword, but the normal laws of human nature didn't seem to apply to the girl.

  "I'm upping the bounty on her," Anson said. "If she comes within a hundred miles of L.A., we'll know about it."

  "That means we'll only see her when she's ready to come to us."

  "We're right on the verge of annexing Catalina. Doing that without bloodshed requires their cooperation. Whipping up hot chaos down south could convince the islanders that hitching their wagon to our star isn't such a great idea after all."

  Lowell frowned. "It's not like you to wait to swallow the last bite before taking the next one."

  Anson smiled, but there was anger in his eyes. "We're about to own the entire city. Now that they've got the rod, the aliens are on their way home. If San Diego gets involved—and by the way, they'd have to stop shitting themselves
first—do you really think the aliens would let them threaten their departure?"

  "I'd feel more at peace if she were out of contention."

  "I sent envoys to San Diego days ago. They should be back any time now. If she's been there, we'll hear about it. In the meantime, let's get Catalina nailed down, okay?"

  "Don't be surprised if I take this vacation of mine down in Tijuana."

  "Don't go that far. I'll need you on the island soon." Anson clapped him on the shoulder. "Have fun out there, but start thinking about how we're going to bring San Diego into the fold, will you? This is starting to feel like our Manifest Destiny."

  Lowell went fishing in the hills again, but everything had changed. The nights were cold. The fish were slow to bite. The shade of the trees was no longer soothing, but foreboding. He was happy when his days were up and he returned to the Heart.

  During his absence, Anson and team had done work on Catalina. Not only had they officialized the peace, but they'd designed a framework to integrate the island into the People of the Stars. Catalina would be allowed to keep its own laws and government.

  "Uncommonly generous of you," Lowell said.

  "What are you talking about? I'm not a tyrant. This isn't about crushing people under our heel. It's about unifying the region so we can focus on rebuilding without worry from outside threats."

  "And typically when you take a place, you make sure it will never become an inside threat."

  "Oh, I've got something worked out for that. Catalina's going to become our minor league affiliate. They grow the talent, then send it to us."

  "Which has the happy outcome of draining it from them."

  "What do they need talented people for? Teaching the bison to play fetch?"

  "So how does this program work?"

  "Patience. You'll hear all about it at the speech next week."

  This, it turned out, wasn't just any speech, but a capital-E Event. To be delivered in Avalon, it would be something like a State of the Union, complete with the need for security: Raina was gone from the island, but they weren't sure all her loyalists were. Meanwhile, the former resort town was built into the hills like stadium seating, with hundreds of empty buildings and firing lines from all sides. Unable to convince Anson to change venues, Lowell spent the entire week prior to the speech studying the town and drilling his security team in locking it down tight.