by Jasmine Walt
Stone silence. I glance over at the Colonel. Both his hands are draped on either side of the podium. “But we cannot continue like this. Divided… scared.”
I roll my eyes. He sounds like a poorly done Abe Lincoln.
He steps back and gestures to the three of us, eyes locking on mine. Then, in the loudest voice I’ve ever heard him use, he says, “I present to you… this brave team. A group of people and descendants of the gods who have dedicated themselves to retrieving our cure.” With a smile, he turns back to the awed crowd. “The new world rests on their shoulders.” He points at Tripp. “Tripp Mason.” He stands with a gesture from Jax. “Kiwi Grunder.” Ditto. “And, the hope we’ve been waiting for… Pike Richards.”
My eyes stretch open. It takes me a few seconds to stand with my new teammates. Colonel Jax starts the clapping, and my mind tunnels around that last remark.
The hope they’ve been waiting for? Hell does that even mean? It takes several moments for the applause to still. Jaxass motions for us to sit, and I stumble backward, confused as a mofo. As I lower myself back into my chair, my arm brushes Kiwi’s.
I know that you like to do it.
My body tenses and my eyes dart around the room. I dig my hands into the sides of the chair.
You like to sing. Like to kill. Want to kill now, don’t you?
I try shaking the voice out of my head.
I see you. You like it. Crave it.
My fingers press into my temples, hard. Like the action will drive whatever the hell it is out.
But—maybe you can’t live with yourself. Maybe you should kill--
My jaw clenches.
Yourself. Do it. Do it now. Do it. Now.
A scream punches its way up from my gut and slams the walls. Blood red falls across my vision. I dig my nails into my face and start to rock. I must look like I’m up batshit nuts creek. And I try to stop, but something has put me under.
In the back of my mind I know it’s an attack. With another pained howl, I grunt and push back, hard.
And again. Until finally, the red floats away like droplets of blood.
There is no way to tell how long everyone has been gaping at me. Clearing my throat, I lower my hands to my sides. Masks of horror paint all their faces, which I get. But I can’t think of shit to say so we sit in thick silence together.
My gaze snaps over to Kiwi. She’s looking over at me. Then, her lips curl with a half-smile. My eyes narrow.
Shit on a limp dick. It was her crazy ass. Light footsteps interrupt how much I was just about to hate her. I look up at Colonel Jax.
“Are you okay, son?”
Son, huh? That’s unnecessary. I manage a tight grin.
“Yes, sir.” I keep my voice low, so that only we can hear. “Must be a little PTSD, ya know, from my time in the Pit.”
Crinkles set in beside his narrow eyes when he smiles. Without a word, he nods and returns to his place in the center of the stage.
I try not to glance at Kiwi as people set up trays in front of us. Hushed conversation fills the room, and Colonel Jax announces it’s time to eat.
Biting the inside of my lip, I lean back and listen to the clatter of forks hit trays and gulps from people drinking. It fades into the background, and I just sit. And stare.
My gaze settles on a tall, muscular dude. I notice the bulging tattoo on this throat. It bobs up and down on his Adam’s apple.
It’s an equal armed cross.
A symbol I know real well.
A symbol of purity. A cross to separate us from them.
My eyes slide up his beefy throat and lock onto his gray eyes. His eyes are locked on me too, burning like drugs injected into muscle. The longer our gazes meet, the harder the lines in his face get.
Yeah, I know that look.
Means he wants to step to me. Do something violent.
A smile stretches my lips wide. I flash him all the teeth.
His eyes turn to slits and I wink at him.
It’s worth it. The fury on his face flushes him sunburned red. His mouth opens and closes like a fish that can’t figure out a bigger fish. I feel the emotion rolling off him. He can’t stand to look at me anymore. Finally, he looks away, leaps up and storms out of the cafeteria, not bothering to bus his tray.
I chuckle until my eyes dart over to Sadie. She’s not eating, either. Her mouth is turned down in a frown, and she just stares. Then she shakes her head. I slump back into my chair. She’s right. Fuck am I doing here? The buzz of chitchat makes my head pound. I stare as Sadie makes a point of looking around at the crowd.
And that’s when something clicks in my brain.
Something I realized earlier. They are all human. Each one of them.
It makes no sense. I know there are more of us here. I heard their wails in the Pit…
I close my eyes. No.
No way.
An image of the equal armed cross, a symbol these people piss all over, bobs inside my head.
What lie to Jaxass tell?
We can’t live divided.
Yet, here we are.
I’m still deep in thought as the cafeteria empties. When I finally move again, I gaze over at Colonel Jax and point at him.
“I have words.” I smile. “They want some alone time with you.”
I tap my fingers against my knees in the empty cafeteria. All that remain are the Colonel and Juliet. They stand several feet away, speaking in low tones. By the time they stop I’ve tapped two hundred and thirty-eight times. I force myself to quit, then wrap my hand around my thigh to lessen the temptation.
I glance over just as Juliet starts heading toward me, fingers rested lightly on her side arm. She pauses in front of me, peers down, and reaches into a pouch on her belt. My eyes widen when she pulls out a syringe.
“Pike, I need you to hold out your arm.”
I shrink back. “The hell for?”
Her eyes flicker back to my face and she waits.
Gulping down a dry patch of nerves, I study the liquid swimming inside. Light blue, and it is in no way getting into my veins.
“It’s an infusion of monkshood.” She swings her hair over her shoulder.
I raise an eyebrow. “And… why would I let you inject me with that?”
While she stares down at me, unmoved, I try to burn her with my gaze. For people that want nothing to do with us, they know their shit.
Well, I guess that shouldn’t be a shocker. Know thy enemy and all that crap. I hesitate because a monkshood injection will magically sedate my black ass. It’s not a good time, not as bad as nightshade, but that’s not exactly a silver lining.
I shake my head. “No thanks.”
“It’ll wear off in ten minutes.” She sniffs. “And I’m sure you can understand that I can’t leave you alone with the leader of this compound without taking precautions.” Her head tilts to the side. “So, take it or this conversation doesn’t happen.”
Fuck my life.
I shoot a hateful look at Jaxass, then glance back at Juliet. My jaw clenches as I nod and pull up my right sleeve. She squeezes a latex strip around my bicep, taps my arm at the crease of my elbow, and then slides the needle in.
I wince when she pushes in the infusion. An icy burn tears up my arm, then ripples of pain burst to the rest of my body. Tears pool in my eyes. I struggle for air that burns my chest.
The room swims in front of me like a bad acid trip.
“That’ll give you ten minutes.” Juliet’s voice warps in my ears. I shut my eyes as her feet thunder away from us.
I feel like I’m buried under a crap ton of ice. Reaching up, I cover my eyes and try to pull it together.
My head starts to steady, not much, but enough. Jax clears his throat. I drop my hands and try to turn my head. After a few minutes, I finally manage to twist my body in his direction.
He’s seated in a chair across from me, leaned over, hands clasped in a ball.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Richards?”
/>
I struggle to keep my eyes open. To meet his calm stare. This, I manage, but the only other thing I seem capable of is panting and sweating.
I hold up my hand and fingers streak across my vision. I blink, then stare. As I lower it, Colonel Jax leans back and crosses his legs.
It’s a warped, alpha dog move.
And that’s the point. I shake my head again and force my thoughts pass the burn.
“You can… Arrange for us to be in a room without this shit in my veins.” My voice slurs, but insulting him helps clear the infusions effects, namely to repeal curses.
Might not be able to hurt him, but I can do something else. The thought presses a weak smile to my lips. I clear my throat loudly.
“Eight more minutes, Mr. Richards.”
I nod. Right. I get to it.
“Unless you let all the people you’ve got locked in that Pit out, I walk.”
He laughs, a hoarse humorless laugh and rests his fingers on the side of his face. “Now, that simply isn’t true.”
I cock my head sideways. “Bet it.” I flash every tooth I have.
Jax uncrosses his legs and leans toward me. “Need I remind you…”
“Yeah, yeah.” I put my hand up to stop whatever threat is about to fall out of his face. My body feels a little lighter. Some of the ice is lifting, making it easier to move. To think. Leaning over, I match his posture.
“I call bullshit.” I stab the air between us with a finger. “See, I think you need me. Matter fact, I’m betting you’ll do a lot more for me than you wanna admit.”
Anger flashes in his eyes, which please me. I fold my arms and scrutinize him while the monkshood slowly lifts out of my muscles.
After that initial rush of anger, his eyes go blank. Face immobile. He starts to button up his jacket. Then, he cracks his knuckles.
By now the winter chill biting down on my power is more of a shiver. Juliet was generous about that ten minutes.
Good.
After a few more moments of waiting, Jax taps his wristwatch and raises it to his mouth.
“Juliet.”
Seconds later the doors squeal open. I shift my gaze and follow as Juliet saunters to the platform. She stops at the bottom step and looks at Jax only.
“Have the staff prepare thirty rooms.” His gaze sweeps back toward me. His expression is relaxed. I don’t feel anger from him. Or anything negative for that matter.
“Then, have the prisoners in the Pit assimilated into the general population.” He stands fluidly. “And, take Mr. Richards with you when it’s cleared.”
Juliet huffs. “Sir, you can’t possibly…”
Without another word, he glides down the steps and sweeps across the room. “To more tolerant times,” he calls back before ducking out of the cafeteria.
Juliet stares at me, then jerks her head to the doors. “Shall we?”
I stand and go down the steps, then follow her out. As we head down the hall she shoots me a smile.
“I have a feeling this isn’t going to go the way you want.”
I match her grin. “Keep talking, bitch. That monkshood is out of my system.”
7
Sweat beads up on my forehead as soon as we get to the Pit. With a groan, I cover my nose and mouth, knowing full well it won’t block the moist, foul chemical smell suffocating the narrow corridor.
As I trudge behind Juliet through rows of cages, I can almost feel the cage I was locked in as we pass it on the left. My eyes drop to the aged, rocky floor. I run into Juliet’s back, and glance up. She’s shuffling from one side of the Pit to the other, pressing in numbers to the keypads.
Sheets of glass shoot up, one after the other, in alternating sides of the hall. Bodies stumble out of cages and stand beside them. This happens until we reach the end of the hall.
Juliet opens the last cage and a figure darts out and throws her arms around my waist. I lift my hands, glancing around, as the girl sobs into my chest.
“Shh,” I say, reaching down to pat her scarred, shaved head. I catch a glimpse of Juliet reach for her waist and my mouth falls open.
She jams a Taser into the girl’s neck, and she collapses onto the floor.
“Hey, what the fuck?” I yell over the buzzing voices now swimming through the Pit.
“You were instructed to stand by your cell until further instruction,” Juliet says to the convulsing mound on the floor. I shake my head, then bend over the girl.
She probably used to be beautiful. Her skin is lined with scars and grime. With a smile, I reach for her hand and look into her sunken eyes.
She’s a Spirit. I feel it right away. I plant my feet, preparing to help her up. A rumble rings out from behind me. Juliet clears her throat.
“Return to your position, C6-14, or I’ll have to administer another dose,” she says.
I roll my eyes, sliding one hand under the Spirit with a smile. She gazes back up at me and tightens up, resisting my attempt to lift her.
Her eyes widen briefly. I frown. Then, the Spirit rolls around me, and darts an arm out. I spin in time to see the Spirit throw both hands around Juliet’s ankles. I panic, not sure what this is. An attempt to take down an Enforcer. Can’t say I blame her.
I push myself up with my hands and gape down at her. Rumbling footsteps close in, forming a circle around the three of us.
The Spirit’s eyes shimmer, pulling me into their depths and locking me down. A hand clamps my shoulder. I’m dragged back. The dark Pit swells with power.
I know what she is. A water nymph. A rush of wind knocks me back. Juliet vibrates on her feet. I grab the nearest body and force my way back to her.
A glint of silver flashes across my vision. The metal blade sings through the air.
“No!” I throw myself at Juliet, trying to grab the sword.
A group of Enforcers hold me back. Juliet swings down, kneels over and straightens with the nymph’s head in her free hand.
Time slows. My heart drums in my ears. I can’t move. I can only stare. Blood trickles from the girl’s head, along with strings of flesh. The blood encircles Juliet’s pale arm. She hands the head to me, and then a group of Enforcers go in for the rest of her.
They lift her headless body and carry her out, but it doesn’t reach my mind. It feels more like a nightmare.
I gaze at Juliet’s blade as she wipes it on her coveralls. When she looks up at me, I force my lips together. Everything in me wants to take her then and there.
I flex my neck muscles, trying to control myself.
She lifts an eyebrow. The gesture feels like a triple fucking dog dare. I give her my best poker face. And I block out all the pain, outrage, and hate around us.
Juliet nods, then turns and stares down at everyone in the Pit. She gives a rundown of the rules, with me behind her, like a good fucking puppy.
God, I want to kill her.
She claps, and then turns to me. “This opportunity is part of the C6 initiative to work with descendants. Pike Richards is going to head this effort. Any words?”
I glare and shake my head.
The Spirit’s blood is still on her hands. It splashes on her pants in a red and yellow mosaic. Her blood—her essence--is still running down the hall floor, marked with footprints.
I manage to look at the rest of the descendants. “Follow the rules ‘cause they’ll kill you for it, and damn quick.”
She flips her hair. “Time to move, Richards.”
I stomp my feet to wake up my limbs and start back down the hall. We’re almost at the end when someone grabs me. I turn left, toward the hand on my shoulder.
“Why?” a sturdy looking male whispers to me. His grip is strong, but not aggressive.
Another Spirit. No time to feel for what kind. I use the few moments I have down here to look at him.
To actually look at him. To focus my gaze at him. After staring at me a few moments, he gives a slight nod. Gods, I hope he understands.
“Richards,” Juliet s
houts. “Come on.”
He squeezes my shoulder right before I walk off. As I trail behind Juliet, climb into the elevator, and return to the upper levels, I reach up to touch my shoulder.
I can still feel where he grabbed me. I can still feel the silent understanding between us.
That quiet moment is the only thing that keeps me upright.
I really hate trying to wash off blood. It’s sticky as hell. Clings to the skin like maple syrup, which isn’t fun enough to justify what a pain in the ass it is to get off. The fact that I’ve used my rationed shower for the day doesn’t help.
I stand over the sink with the water on melt-your-skin-hot, and scrub deep blue blood off my hands. Literally and figuratively.
Out motherfuckin’ spot, out.
The water shuts off because it’s been running more than one minute. My jaw tenses. I shake out my raw hands, and then rub them against a towel next to the sink. Then I swipe the towel up and down my face, trying to get as much blood off as possible.
Draped in the darkness behind my towel, Juliet sneaks into my thoughts. Her. Holding that innocent girl’s head like it was a prize-winning pumpkin at the county fair.
I wish I could scrub that image off the surface of my brain. That, and the guilt. Should have kept my damn mouth shut. Now I realize why Jax was so calm.
He had no problem letting the prisoners from the Pit. And he doesn’t plan on making their stay on the main grounds easy. I shuffle backward and sit on the side of the bathtub.
Staring to the other corner of the room, I try to un-see the nymph dying. Dying because of me.
Not that it’s a first.
Still, it bugs me. Not that killing in general doesn’t bug me. Well, I’m pretty sure it does, but it might not.
That does bother me. Being born to like it. Being cursed to do it.
Ball salad, I need a drink. Or several.
A crash makes me jump. I jerk my head toward my room and bolt to my feet. Creeping to the door, I grip the doorknob and strain to hear through it. All is quiet. Slowly, I turn the knob.
Knocking makes me stop. Seconds later, I finish turning the knob and ease the door open a crack, just enough to peer though.