’Til the World Ends

by Julie Kagawa, Ann Aguirre, Karen Duvall

  He bowed his head and stepped back. Rachel and some of the other women came forward to lay flowers over the grave. I held out my hand as he rejoined me, and he squeezed my palm.

  Ben sighed and closed his eyes, tilting his head to the sunlight. I watched him a moment, then bumped his shoulder with mine.

  “What are you thinking about?”

  He looked at me, his eyes clear and direct, as if the light had finally burned away the last of the guilt and anguish, and I was looking straight down into his soul. “Just...that everything is beautiful in the sun,” he said quietly, holding my gaze. “And that I’m home, finally, and I am going to take care of this family. That’s what he wanted, anyway. The last thing he said.”

  I remembered Samson’s last words, whispered into Ben’s ear, and smiled. “Yeah?”

  “Well, there was one more thing.” Ben stepped forward, gathering me into his arms. “He also insisted we get married in the fall, like him and Mom.”

  I smiled through my tears. “Bossy, stubborn man. I guess we can’t say no.” Ben kissed me gently, a kiss full of promise, and love, and hope. Especially hope. Taking my hand, he laced his fingers through mine, and together we returned to the open arms of our family.

  * * *

  A full moon glimmered over the waves as they lapped against the dock, throwing fractured sliver light over the hull of the ship tethered there. Two figures stood at the end of the pier, speaking in low, intense voices. One was a sunburned, lanky man who smelled faintly of brine and was most at home on the open water. The other was a tall man with pale skin and eyes blacker than midnight. The pier bobbed up and down on the waves, and the lanky man shifted his weight subtly to compensate, but the tall stranger was as motionless as a statue.

  “The pay was acceptable?” the tall man asked in a low, almost dangerous tone. His companion rubbed his beard and sighed.

  “Yeah, it was fine. Last-minute, but fine. You’re lucky—I turned down the last poor sap who couldn’t pay up. Idiot thought I’d let him and his kid tag along for free. I don’t run a fucking charity here.” He eyed the stranger’s empty hands and shook his head. “Long way across the ocean, friend. Sure you don’t want to take anything? This ain’t a pleasure cruise, you know.”

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Captain.” A ghost of a smile tugged at the stranger’s lips. “I have everything I need right here.”

  “Eh. Whatever. Let’s get moving, then. Time and tide wait for no man.”

  The captain walked off, leaving the pier and striding up the ramp without a backward glance. But the tall stranger stood on the dock a moment more, letting the breeze play across his face. He turned, looking back the way he’d come, from a rabid-infested town and a small house and two humans he’d rescued on a whim. The boy was unimportant; it was her words he would remember, her words he would take with him on his long, impossible journey. His kin were already looking for him, vengeance and retribution foremost on their minds. He was not afraid of their wrath, but he could not allow himself to be destroyed just yet.

  “I will make things right,” he whispered, a promise to her, to everyone. “The rabids are my creation, but I will atone for that mistake. And I will not stop until everything I have destroyed is returned to the way it was.”

  “Oy, mister!” The captain stood at the top of the ramp, glaring down at him. “You coming or not? I’m getting too old for this kind of stress.”

  The stranger smiled. Don’t worry, Captain, he thought, gliding down the pier. You won’t have that concern much longer, because this will be the last trip you and your crew will ever make. I did not lie when I said I have everything I need, right here.

  Walking up the ramp, he nodded politely to the captain and continued inside. Ropes were tossed, anchors were pulled and the great ship slid easily into open water and vanished over the horizon.

  * * * * *

  What if life as you knew it was ending all around you?

  Where would you go, who would you want by your side?

  This novella is a prequel to Julie Kagawa’s

  BLOOD OF EDEN series,

  published by Harlequin TEEN.

  For more information,

  visit www.BloodofEden.com.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter One

  If I didn’t deliver the goods to Stavros by midnight, he would kill me.

  He was the local bossman in our ward. Mostly I scavenged and pawned stuff, but I also had training from my dad, who had been a top-notch cracksman in his day. Back then I thought it was an adventure when he took me on a job. Now it was a nightmare. In the Red Zone, people robbed and murdered each other outright for half a sandwich or a bottle of water.

  That meant my skills were worth something to people who needed the subtle approach. Generally, that demand was limited to people who lived in the fortresses, gated communities that had gone full lockdown after the worst chemical spill around thirty years ago. Fortresses offered everything the wealthy could want—lush green parks, clean air, filtered sunlight, entertainment, shopping—and the developments stretched on forever, one into the next, much as the city sprawls did, only with more desirable results. They were the best of the Computer Age, confined within heavily guarded walls.

  Some inhabitants had inherited their fortunes; others came from criminal empires. There were entrepreneurs, as well, who owned sweatshops in Factory Ward, where children ran the tireless machines. According to my dad, all fortress residents maintained outside concerns. How else could they augment the wealth that permitted them to live in luxurious safety? Each complex had a corporate backer who owned the businesses inside and managed the employees. I’d heard they treated the staff more like slaves in exchange for the privilege of living inside the walls, but it was doubtful I’d ever discover the truth for myself.

  A cold sweat broke out on my nape, despite the lingering heat from the day. It was dusk, and the pollution in the air dulled the purpling sky. Even the clouds were hazy from the adjacent Factory Ward. I’d promised my mother before she died that I wouldn’t let them snatch the kids. I’d never known anyone to come back from the machines. Geezers talked about how they were chained up and left to work until they died. I’d heard mechs roved the ward, gunning down the runners.

  I studied the wall before me, calculating the angle of my jump. There was no way I’d risk pissing Stavros off. A deal was a deal, and I hadn’t survived for twenty years without learning the importance of keeping my word. In lean times, if you were a straight shooter, people were more willing to float a loan or cut a little slack. We were all thieves, of course, some more violent than others. Yet I shared a wary respect with those on my block, which was better than most neighborhoods. Since we had banded together, there had been less random crime. I did have to range farther afield for a score, as I never stole from people I knew. The community ran on a complex bartering system, though some people crafted goods, others planted and some scavenged. Everyone traded for what they needed.

  When I did tricky work, I took care it didn’t follow me home. As necessary, I spent hours ensuring my double life never rebounded on my siblings, Alonzo and Elodie. Like anyone who did dangerous jobs, I had multiple boltholes scattered throughout Snake Ward to keep anyone from uncovering my secret. So far, I’d managed.

  But it was getting harder.

  The fortresses had tightened security, making it all b
ut impossible to pull off a heist. Under normal circumstances, I wouldn’t have taken this job. Too risky when I had mouths to feed. I had refused Stavros’s emissaries before—this was the first time I’d be working for him. But Alonzo and Elodie were exactly why I was perched on this ledge, smoky air swirling around me. I couldn’t let the kids starve. Too few leads had panned out in recent days, rumors about pigeons venturing out of their armored roosts proving false.

  We had little left to sell. Nobody had anything worth stealing. So when Stavros had made me an offer, I’d spoken his favorite words. Yes, sir. I’d be lucky if I didn’t wind up with his boot on my neck permanently. He wasn’t the kind of guy to be satisfied with less than total commitment.

  Damn, it was a long way down, but I was too practiced to let my stomach lurch. I had been stealing for as long as I could remember. It put food on the table. In the fortresses, rich people ate well and enjoyed the protection of highly trained, highly paid mercenaries who reported to no government. Instead, they were loyal to the corporations that employed them. For folks like me, well, the expression “hand to mouth” meant a good day.

  At the moment, there wasn’t a single morsel in our cupboards. Which was why I was lifting an expensive bauble for Stavros, who would then deliver it to the idiot who coveted it. As long as the transaction went well, I’d get a cut and buy the kids something to eat.

  But before I did any shopping, I had to achieve the impossible.

  I checked the pads on my gloves and then launched myself from the ledge. Impact smarted, but I latched on to struts on the side of the Erinvale fortress, owned and operated by the Yamaguchi Corporation. My lungs churned as I hauled myself toward the air intake. So many things could go wrong. Those whirling fans might make minced Mari out of me. That would leave Al and Elodie alone; they were fifteen and thirteen, not babies, but not old enough to fend for themselves, either.

  So I climbed for them. Timing was everything. Dangling from the rim, I watched the fans spin and counted the seconds. I had three to slide into the ventilation system beyond. My arms burned. This was a definite security risk for Erinvale, but most thieves weren’t small enough—or desperate enough—to go for this point of entry. There could be steam tunnels or any number of obstacles along the way.

  Now.

  Using my legs for leverage, I pushed off the side and scrambled onto the lip. There wasn’t room to make myself comfortable, but I kept my balance while not thinking about all the open space behind me. For a few beats more, I counted, then dove. It wasn’t graceful, but there was nobody to see me slam into the shaft belly first. Momentum carried me far enough not to have my feet shorn off, but I lost a few millimeters from the soles of my shoes. I lay there, trembling, horror scrambling over me like furry spider feet.

  Soon, I got myself under control—not through strength of will, but due to necessity. In reflex, I touched the belt at my waist. Good, my tools were intact. They had been my father’s, actually, and I hadn’t sold them because they represented my only chance at freelance jobs. My line of work required more caution than a scavenge run to Junkland, which was dangerous enough. Determined not to fail, I pushed onto my hands and knees and crawled forward.

  Everything I had done in the past three years had been driven by the need to look after my sibs. Things weren’t getting better in the Red Zone, though. The land they’d left us when they’d built the fortresses was parched, fallow and, in some cases, poisoned. They might as well have salted it before they locked the doors. Now, due to risk of kidnapping, most dignitaries didn’t leave their refuges. Instead, they sent emissaries. I hated the privileged few because they’d never gone hungry. They slept in palaces while the rest of us scrabbled to exist.

  Occasionally, street rats like me infiltrated because somebody in Alphaville wanted a treasure being hoarded in Erinvale. The fortresses had borders, even against one another, with a complicated system of visitation privileges, and I’d heard rumors there was a designed DMZ where territories overlapped. My father had taught me everything I knew about corporate society in case I was desperate enough to steal from them. This was my first attempt.

  Stavros had shown me some plans before I’d left for the job; I hoped they were up-to-date. On memory, I hung a left at the first T. I was gambling it would take the automated security measures a while to notice my presence. I didn’t think there were weight or pressure monitors in the ventilation system, but they’d install them if they figured out how I got in. The tricky part would come in nabbing the trinket and then getting out alive.

  It seemed I was always on the verge of dancing with death. Sometimes I heard his clacking knuckle bones as he tapped his fingers. What’s taking so long, Mari? The Red Zone got your parents. Why fight the inevitable?

  Because I have to. Screw you.

  The Reaper could wait a little longer.

  It was dark in the vent, punctuated with gusts of air that told me when I was approaching a fan. At the next turn, I came up against an unexpected blockade. Filters had been installed—not listed on Stavros’s dated plans—and I couldn’t get past without tampering with them. The security system would detect that immediately and dispatch drones to eradicate me.

  I need a miracle.

  Chapter Two

  I didn’t get one. For hours, I wandered those shafts on my hands and knees, unable to proceed along the mental course I’d charted. Too many changes had been made to the system since Stavros’s plans had been drawn up. So instead of going secretly to the target’s room, I had to do something insane. Fear didn’t begin to describe the chaos in my head as I went to work on the panel; I loosened the bolts from the back and then manually unscrewed them. If they had sensors to detect tampering—and they probably did—they’d discover the security breach in seconds. It was too small a window for me to find a place to hide and let the heat die down before I searched for the statuette the client wanted.

  One problem at a time, I told myself.

  First I had to get out of the ventilation system. I cut my fingers on the last bolt. It was stubborn and stuck, slightly oxidized because nobody ever performed routine maintenance. That might be a metaphor for fortress life for all I knew, beautiful on the outside, but breaking down within. I angled the grille so I could pull it through the opening, then I laid it quietly behind me. Terror spiked my movements, making me fast as I flipped down from the ceiling.

  I’d never been in a room like this, pristine, expensive furnishings and electricity. People from the Red Zone knew about such luxuries, of course, but we weren’t entitled to them. Unfortunately, there was a light flashing on the console that I took as an alarm; my father had told me stories about such things passed down from his grandfather. The Thistle family had been stealing for over three hundred years. I was just the latest in a long line of thieves, but if I didn’t get moving, I’d be the last.

  In my black clothes and cracksman tool belt, the guards would make me as a thief immediately. I darted into the hall; fortunately, most private residences didn’t have a system that prevented people from leaving without authorization, though opening the door set off an audible alarm to match the discreet one.

  My life just got so much worse.

  I had no idea where I was inside the fortress, where the statuette lay from here. It seemed unlikely I’d ever find it; I had the habitation number, but the blueprints I’d seen hadn’t included the living quarters. For obvious reasons, fortress officials kept that information secure. They hadn’t been as careful with the specs for air quality design. As it turned out, there was a reason for that—the info Stavros acquired was years out of date. There was nothing I could do to change the bad break.

  So I focused on staying alive.

  In desperation, I ran down a random hallway. I was actually inside a fortress. Granted, I wouldn’t be for long, at least not in one piece, if security caught me. Their booted feet rang out behind me, closing in from all sides. I shoved open a door and emerged into a moonlight paradise. The garden
was verdant with blooming plants—spiky fronds and crawling vines, delicate petals that shimmered in the ethereal light. And there were trees, actual trees, stretching up toward the sky. The ones we had in the Red Zone were gnarled and stunted. Many grew sideways like humpbacked monsters with rot riddling their bark. Our world was nothing—nothing—like this.

  Awe didn’t still me for long.

  I raced across the park and ignored my dread of what would happen if they caught me. We had stories, of course, all of them awful. But silence was worse. There were always whispers of people who went missing, no reason why. Maybe Al and Elodie would never know what became of me. They’d think I abandoned them. Sure, my sibs could be a pain in the ass, but I loved them. I’d never cut them loose to fend for themselves.

  “Stop!”

  Obviously I didn’t; I had enough self-control that I didn’t even turn, but one of the security squad had gotten within spotting distance. This couldn’t end well. Yet I didn’t give up. I dodged around a half-wall that enclosed some flowers. In the Red Zone, they only looked like this because they’d crumbled and fallen over, and there were no sweet-smelling blooms to scent the night air.

  “Over here. Hurry!” a feminine voice called.

  Barely breaking speed, I evaluated my options. She didn’t sound like someone who wanted to confine and/or kill me, so I wheeled in her direction. I had no idea who she was, but she pulled me into another hallway. The girl was around my age, slim and nondescript, and she didn’t let go of my arm. Instead, she towed me toward another doorway. I was smart enough not to dig in my heels and fight someone who appeared to be helping me. Questions could wait.

  We stopped inside what looked like a locker room, probably designated for staff use. For the first time, I noticed her uniform, which meant she was a maid. I wasn’t sure I’d enjoy fetching and carrying for rich people; I might even hate it enough to prefer the Red Zone.

  “Why did you help me? They could fire you. Or worse.” I had no idea how fortress managers handled staffing issues, but their draconian policies made me think they didn’t favor mediation.