New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series

by Jennifer Wilson

  Triven was advancing, his gun raised but shockingly he hadn't been the one to fire. His mother stood on the roof’s edge, gun aimed at us. A small wisp of smoke emanated from its barrel. Even more stunning was that they weren’t the only two to have moved. More than half of the Subversive’s members had crossed the roof’s edge and were surrounding us, weapons at the ready.

  How odd.

  “Don’t Xavier.” Arstid’s words were laden with hatred.

  The Master glared at her, pulling back harder on my hair. I cried out involuntarily as his knee pressed into my back, pushing down on the broken ribs. Another shot and this time Xavier flinched as the bullet clipped his shoulder.

  As the pressure of his body lifted just enough, I flipped over, the pain excruciating. He froze, knife still at my throat. The others stopped moving. Clasped in my hands was my lost gun, the barrel aimed squarely at his heart.

  “It’s a draw.” I wheezed.

  “Then you lose.” Malice flashed in his eyes.

  They lose. That’s what he was saying. I had not bested him. Triven’s people, our people would not be given shelter. He would not help them.

  If I pulled the trigger, we had nothing. Finding the way into Xavier’s lair without his help was all but impossible. I had tried. That was one of the many reasons he was called The Master.

  We needed him, but he had no need of us.

  “My life for their safety.” I blurted out. It was a desperate offer, a disingenuous one. The Master had never been gentle with me, never forgiving in his lessons. But he hadn’t killed me in the six years we had known each other. I was banking that he wouldn’t change that tonight.

  I spun the gun on a finger, offering it to him. Xavier snatched it away without even blinking.

  Footsteps shuffled somewhere nearby again and he raised my gun. A bullet sparked the ground less than an inch from Triven’s toe.

  “I wouldn’t.” Xavier warned him, the gun twitching in his hand.

  Triven looked murderous, but I held up a hand compelling him to stay put. Trust me. I silently pleaded with him. Arstid’s fingers grasped her son’s shoulder, restraining him. Behind them, Baxter’s rifle was pointed at Xavier’s head.

  “Kill me and they’ll shoot you.” I warned him.

  “Life has gone on far too long already.” He glowered. “I warned you that I didn’t want to be involved and what do you do? You bring the damned fight to my doorstep.”

  “I am bringing you people in need. The same people you abandoned six years ago.”

  He didn’t flinch.

  I lowered my voice, ensuring only he could hear me. “The Wall is coming down, Xavier.”

  His pupils widened and he leaned in closer. “You should never pick a fight you can’t win. I thought I taught you that.”

  “Some fights are worth losing to stand up for what’s right.”

  The pain in my ribs was swallowing me again. Sweat gathered at the nape of my neck, my breaths becoming more labored.

  “So, you’re willing to die for what you believe in? To save these people?” The tip of his knife hovered above my left eye socket.

  We weren’t just talking about our deal any more, this was bigger than that. He wanted to know what I would risk for my beliefs.

  I thrust my bare throat at him, daring him and secretly hoping I had been right before, that he wouldn’t kill me.

  “Yes.” I proclaimed and I knew then I had been wrong.

  “Stupid girl,” he snarled and plunged the knife down.

  13. WALLS

  B LOOD FLOWED DOWN my face, pooling in my hair.

  I blinked.

  Feet were rushing us. But not a single hand fell on Tartarus’s Master. No one was stupid enough to touch him, though every knife was drawn, every gun cocked.

  Xavier leaned in closer and hissed, “You. Owe. Me.”

  Then the weight of his body was gone.

  The knife stood embedded in the tarry rooftop, its blade slicing deeply into my left cheek. But I was alive.

  The black grip disappeared beneath a hand, then the knife was yanked free. The warmth on my cheek began spreading faster. Triven’s face hovered above mine. Archer’s familiar outline stood over us, her trusty rifle aimed at what I assumed was Xavier’s chest.

  “Can she move?” Archer didn’t bother looking down.

  Triven’s fingers moved to my throat, checking my pulse. I twisted away.

  “I’m fine.”

  Leaning a little too heavily on his arms, I struggled to my feet, planting them wide. Every movement was agonizing, but necessary. I needed to stand, needed to prove I was okay. I needed Xavier to see me stand. I took two unsteady steps away from Triven’s arms and mercifully didn’t falter.

  The Master’s expression was one of perfect ease despite the multitude of weapons aimed at him.

  “Well?”

  “Well what?” Even the vibration of my own voice sent a tremor of pain through my chest.

  I stopped breathing.

  “Are you coming?” Without waiting for a response, Xavier turned and leapt over the building’s edge to the next rooftop.

  Wasn’t this our goal? What we had wanted? I started to follow.

  “You’ve got to be freaking kidding me.” Archer protested from somewhere behind me, but I could hear her feet moving forward.

  “Don’t take your gun off him.” It sounded like Arstid, though her voice was suddenly much farther away.

  Still, they were all following him.

  Following me.

  I took two more steps and then slid into oblivion. I remembered the ground rushing up to meet my face and hands catching me. Then there was nothing. Not even pain.

  SOMETHING ITCHY AND moist was stuck to my face. It pulled uncomfortably at the tender skin. But that discomfort was nothing compared to the lightning bolts exploding from my chest.

  People were talking.

  We were no longer on the rooftop. Something akin to a bed cradled my body and the room was definitely an enclosed space. The sounds were harsher here. It also smelled faintly of copper, heavily inked paper and dust.

  The Master, Xavier, had taken us in.

  The voices were hushed, but still each syllable stabbed like an icepick in my already throbbing head. The words echoed, lingering uncomfortably in my ears.

  I kept my eyes closed.

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was Xavier?” The disdain in Arstid’s voice draped over her words.

  “Would you have come if I did?”

  There would be a crease between Triven’s eyebrows now. It always accompanied his well-practiced frowns of irritation. I had—after all—caused many of those frowns myself.

  “He’s a traitor.”

  “The same could be said about us.”

  “He abandoned us!”

  I took a shallow breath. “He just saved all of our lives. If he didn’t take us in, we wouldn’t have lasted the week.”

  The words fell off my tongue, slurring as they came out.

  There was the sound of moving fabric, and something warm cupped my unharmed cheek. I barely heard Arstid excuse herself, saying something about getting clean bandages. I’m not sure Triven even noticed her leave.

  “How’s your chest?” he asked.

  “Never better.” I winced.

  Triven harrumphed. “And the ego?”

  “Let’s say it makes my ribs look pretty damn good.”

  A throaty laugh hummed next to my ear.

  “Will you open your eyes so I can check your pupils?” his voice was sugar-sweet and I knew I was in trouble.

  My lids slid back slowly and I came face to face with the crease line I had envisioned seconds ago.

  I smiled.

  He did not.

  Triven’s fingertips pulled back my eyelids, watching the reaction in my pupils. As he studied my face, I studied his. Dark circles had pooled beneath his eyes, the whites rimmed with red veins. Even his cheeks looked gaunt.

  “How lo
ng has it been since you slept?” I wanted to reach for his face, but the pain assaulting my torso stopped me from moving.

  “How long has it been since you slept?” He shot the question back at me, his attention moving to my cheek. Careful fingers pulled the sticking bandage away.

  My eye twitched.

  “Um, about sixty seconds ago.”

  He paused, leveling me. “Passing out and sleeping aren’t the same thing Prea.”

  I repressed the urge to stick out my tongue. “Have you really not slept in over twenty-four hours?”

  He shrugged, “I dozed a little while we waited to join you and Archer. I’m fine.”

  It was my turn to glare. He ignored it.

  Finishing his inspection, Triven sat back on his heels. His mouth was pinched. I couldn’t begin to imagine what I looked like right now. After the fire and the fight, I felt like one giant bruise.

  As if reading my thoughts, Triven pulled a small black case from his pocket. Inside was nestled a syringe of green liquid. The two slots next to it stood empty. “You should use this—”

  “No.” Despite the pain, I placed a hand over his, closing the case.

  “We don’t have time for you to heal naturally. You need to be at full strength.”

  “You have no idea how tempting that offer is. But my wounds will heal. If I use that, I could be stealing someone else’s life.”

  “Prea…”

  “What if it were Mouse’s?”

  Pain flickered in Triven’s tired eyes. I pushed the case down and he let me, for now. Triven set the box aside, his eyes turning to the ceiling.

  “I told you I could handle this.”

  Triven still didn’t smile, but the crease eased. “You’re a real pain in the ass, you know that.

  “You love me.”

  “Sometimes.” The corner of his mouth turned up finally.

  “My plan worked though.”

  “I wouldn’t call this,” he motioned to my battered body, “A total win.”

  I inhaled and recoiled from the pain. “True, but it wasn’t a loss either.”

  His hand found mine, squeezing gently. “No more crazy plans, deal?”

  “I can’t make any promises.” The words came out playfully, but I wasn’t joking. I couldn’t make him that promise.

  Triven knew it too.

  “Fine,” he resigned. “Then next time I get to be the punching bag.”

  I grabbed my ribs as they pierced me again, “Deal.”

  A shaggy head of brown hair popped into the doorway. Otto grinned when he saw I was awake. “They’re back.”

  Triven nodded, thanking him.

  “Who’s back?” It came out winded despite my best effort.

  “We sent out a recovery group. They went to find the others.”

  I glanced up at Triven. “How long was I out?”

  “Nearly twelve hours.”

  “We lost a whole day?” The pendulum swinging over us seemed suddenly closer.

  “You did, but we did not. A hunting party went out in search of the other Subversive members shortly after we landed here. And it appears they’re back.”

  Otto’s smile widened. “Not a single person lost.”

  I smiled back at him, it was hard to resist Otto’s charms.

  “I guess it’s time to answer some questions.” I muttered, though neither of us moved. Triven and I simply exchanged a hesitant glance.

  We knew this had been coming. There were no more excuses now. No longer was there a dire need to find our people food or shelter. To conceal our plans in case of a traitor. If they were all truly here and accounted for, that meant, like us, the traitor was trapped within these walls. There was no way out of here without The Master’s knowledge, without his guidance. That was part of the reason I chose this place. I hated the idea of keeping a betrayer fed and warm in our midst. But the best place to keep a traitor was under your thumb, plus a traitor cannot whisper secrets where there are no ears to hear them.

  Triven rose to his feet. I struggled to follow him.

  Otto hesitated. “Do you need help?” He eyed me hesitantly.

  “No,” I spoke before Triven could accept Otto’s offer on my behalf, and began to force my body upright. Triven’s hands were instantly there. Careful to keep the pain from my face, I pushed my way onto weak legs. As soon as the room stopped tilting I took a tentative step. My legs wobbled, but held. Triven’s arm slipped around my waist and though I wanted to prove I was fine, I needed the support. Otto stood awkwardly in the doorway, a hand half-raised to help.

  “You don’t have to come.” Triven lowered his voice.

  I pulled myself up taller, using the pain to shake off the intruding exhaustion.

  “Can you gather everyone in the main room? Xavier too?” I leaned further into Triven the longer I remained standing. Hopefully he didn’t notice.

  Triven pressed a lip to my ear. “Tap twice on my hand when you need a break.”

  His fingers drummed on my hip. I pressed my fingers tightly over his, refusing to let them tap.

  WE MOVED SLOWLY but steadily, fueled mostly by my stubbornness. When we finally reached the main hall, I was panting from exertion. Still, I made it on my own two feet.

  Arstid was waiting for us outside the gilded double doors to the main room. She seemed surprised to find me not only standing, but not healed.

  Many were already gathered in the marble room, huddled against pillars, sprawled on the dull floor. Some were animated, chatting as they reunited with their lost friends. A slow hush fell over the room as we entered, creeping its way to the corners until every eye was turned our way.

  I scanned the crowd quickly, finding the dark shock of hair I had been seeking. Doc Porters sat inspecting the scraped knee of a child. His face lit up then fell as he assessed me. Reaching for a black bag, Doc shifted, ready to come inspect me next. I gave him the slightest head shake accompanied with a smile. Later, it said. He nodded and settled back to the child.

  Triven walked me along the edge of the room. Partially because there was a long counter I could discreetly lean against for support and because the center was now too full of bodies. I had once thought this cavernous room of The Master’s to be oversized, but now it seemed small filled with so many people.

  We reached the midway point of the room and despite my earlier resolve, I tapped Triven’s fingers twice. He didn’t react, but merely stopped as if this was the exact point we were heading for the entire time. Careful to keep his hands low on my hips, he turned me toward him and lifted. I braced myself against his chest hiding the pain as he slid me effortlessly onto the tall counter. Though no one else undoubtedly noticed, he hesitated there for a moment, allowing me a beat to compose my face before stepping away. Sweat clung to my brow and beaded down my spine. The short walk had taken more effort than I had anticipated.

  I looked out over Triven’s shoulder, willing my eyes to focus properly. When they finally did, my heart leapt only to sink back.

  Surely it hadn’t been an illusion.

  A wisp of blonde—the tail of a ponytail—had just disappeared behind a marble column on the other side of the room.

  “Veyron?” I wheezed, pushing Triven’s shoulder.

  He followed my gaze, but any sign of her was now gone.

  It had to have been her. The height of the woman had been about right and I knew no other person who wore his or her hair so defiantly long. But why then had she turned from us? I wanted to hop off the counter and chase blonde hair I had seen, but someone more important caught my attention.

  A child was barreling through the crowd. Her eyes bright, Mouse flung herself into Triven’s waiting arms and after a satisfactory hug, she wiggled until he set her on the stone counter next to me. There were dividers spaced on the marble surface, but the two of us were small enough to squeeze between them comfortably. Mouse was elated to see me up and moving, but was still careful not to touch my purpled skin. Ignoring the pain, I leaned into h
er, letting her know it was okay to touch me and relishing in the warmth of her body.

  “Missed you kid.” I smiled at her.

  She looked at the people gathered in the room, at their tired but hopeful faces.

  You did good, but you’re an idiot.

  I laughed, stopping quickly as it jarred my ribs. “Yes. But I’m your idiot.”

  Mouse grinned and leaned in to kiss my good cheek.

  I took her hand in mine.

  Archer startled us as she hopped over the back side of the counter and slid up next to us. She leaned against the partition, swinging her long legs.

  “Baxter says that’s everyone, but he couldn’t seem to find that Xavier guy. Do you think he and his crap attitude vacated?”

  She looked optimistic.

  I skimmed the room, and there, in the darkest corner of the ceiling, was a glint of silver. The flicker was barely visible in the dim light, but I knew it was a knife being idly flipped. I didn’t need to see his face to know Xavier was watching me.

  “No. He’s here.”

  Archer cleared her throat awkwardly. “Well, looks like you three got the floor.” She clapped me roughly on the shoulder. I choked on the pain and Triven shot her a murderous look. Archer pulled her hand back, but managed not to look repentant. “Oops, right sorry… Welllll, good luck with this.”

  She quickly jumped down from the counter and made her way to the back of the room.

  “Coward.” I muttered. Though I couldn’t really blame her.

  The room was nearly silent now. Eyes darted from us to Arstid who still lingered by the door. It was clear she was letting us take the lead, though whether it was because her last involvement went so well or because she actually trusted us, I didn’t know. Attention quickly turned to Triven as he began to address his people.

  “For the past forty-eight hours, we have kept you in the dark. That was unfair. It was not my—our—intention to lie to you. Or to hide the truth. But after what happened in the Subversive, our first priority became getting all of you to safety. Our people have suffered great losses in these past forty-eight hours and it is with heavy hearts that we now find ourselves here. Phoenix risked her life to make this happen, to give you a safe place to hide, but we also must apologize. Our actions were not completely selfless. We also wanted you fed, warm and safe so you could hear us with open minds.”