Small parties went out to forage from abandoned homes, but most were already picked clean. The same Tribes we brought with us to fight in our war, were once again our competition for food. Though Teya—who shockingly was still with us—maintained that her people would share their plunder, I knew it was a lie. Sure, she might share some, but she would protect her Tribe first. Just as I would my own people.
Truly though, if not for them—for all the Tribe members who had come with us—the war might have been lost already. When the Tribe’s presence became known, Fandrin called his soldiers back to his silvery Tower to protect him. Clearly saving his own hide was more important than protecting the hundreds of citizens still exposed on the streets. The catch to this turn of events, was that the old man was practically untouchable now. We knew it would be hard to get to him initially, but with Tribes on the loose, Fandrin had become even more paranoid. This city was practically ours with the soldiers’ withdrawal. But their lack of presence didn’t guarantee our safety. Gage’s bombs didn’t need soldiers to deliver them. They could deliver themselves.
Shockingly, despite the easy prey, all the Tribes had held true to their word for the most part. They kept the slaughtering to a minimum and for a group that was not used to hiding from ever-watching cameras, they did an astonishing job of keeping themselves scarce. Only twice we had glimpsed a crazed woman with her skeleton tattoo, and the Scavengers had gone so completely off the grid, I could only surmise Fandrin’s soldiers had taken them out.
This seemed like progress to some, yet so little had been done to win our rebellion. It felt like we were always waiting. Waiting to be attacked. Waiting to attack. Waiting for plans. Waiting on the tides of war to change. It was killing me a little every day. I don’t know what I had expected to happen after we crossed The Wall, but it wasn’t this. It wasn’t hiding from my grandfather and waiting.
I hissed, my palms stinging as my fingernails dug into the skin. I hadn’t realized I had been clenching them so hard.
I wished Triven was here to say something wise and calming. To give me the advice I could only hear from him. But he was needed elsewhere—where I should have been—talking strategy and rehashing last night’s fruitless raid with the newly assembled council. There was nothing I could add that he didn’t already know. They were a motley crew comprised of an odd mix of rebels, Subversive forerunners, and Wraiths.
Word had spread fast among the Subversive members about the news of my birthright and Arstid was quick to denounce me. Her once frosty tendencies became outright frigid. After the slap that left my cheek purple for a week, she hadn’t spoken to me since. And the instant she struck me, the rebels stopped trusting her. Lines were being drawn between the very people we had only weeks ago fought so hard to unite. Those still loyal to Arstid were quick to blame me for Gage’s attack. They thought me a traitor. I knew I wasn’t, and Mouse at least still seemed to believe in me. A few others drew away from Arstid in support of me as well. But the damage was done. The members of the Subversive looked at me differently now. There was no point telling them I thought it was Veyron. Accusing a dead girl would look like a desperate attempt to shift the blame. Even Triven—whom they had loved and trusted—his words seemed to carry less weight with his people after they found he helped cover the truth about my bloodline. He was trying desperately to hold them together. And no one talked to the Tribes. The Wraiths constant presence was building like a pressure bomb. Teya was becoming restless, and I began to worry if they would soon turn on us for trapping them here. Things were being whispered in dark corners, and though we went out side by side, it was clear there was no trust. Fear and blame were being passed around like sweets. It was a dangerous combination and mix in the lack of communication, things were about to get ugly. If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own mind, I might have realized it sooner. But instead I chose to sit here in the hallway alone, plotting my own revenge.
I wanted my grandfather and his protégé dead.
The less the rebellion listened to us and the more Ryker coiled into himself, the more a half-cocked idea of a suicide mission started percolating inside me. What if I went to the Tower alone? If I offered myself up to Fandrin. Alone. Unarmed. It wouldn’t be hard to slip away, too many people were caught up in their plans to notice one girl slipping out. The old man might just take me in. Let me get closer. The man had once been so desperate for his blood legacy, that desire might sway him. All I had to do was get close… maybe hide a bomb on my person. Let him walk right up to claim me and then—
The door sprang open and I jumped as Mae bustled out. There was grey food splattered on her shoes and a broken dish in her hands. Her eyes were red with tears. She slammed the door behind her before noticing me.
“Oh, hi…” she stammered. “Sorry. Bad day today, Prea.”
“I noticed.” I stared at the food on her feet.
Mae’s strong chin quivered. Every day was a bad day. The woman let out a resigned sound between a laugh and a sob. Falling back against the door, she slid to the floor sinking to my level. Tears were welling in her eyes again. She stared at the broken plate in her hand.
“I wish Inessa were here. She was always better with this stuff. More patient, more nurturing.” Mae swiped the tears angrily from her face.
My heart sank lower in my chest and I asked the question, not sure I wanted to know the answer. It was barely a whisper. “What happened Mae? The day we left, what happened to her?”
The dark-haired woman closed her eyes, shutting me out. “Fandrin went after her, because of her connection to your mother. He thought she might be helping you. That’s why they brought Ryker in that day. Not for questioning, but to interrogate her.”
The color drained from my face. I remembered all too well what it was like to be tortured at Ryker’s hand. That’s why he wouldn’t tell me about her. That’s why Ryker could no longer meet my eye. I knew the answer but I hoped Mae to prove me wrong. I swallowed back the rising bile. “He did it?”
Mae’s face twisted as she turned away, and I had my answer. I wanted to get up, walk away and never look at Ryker’s face again, but Mae’s words held me in place. “It’s killing him you know. Every day. I think that’s why he’s taking the loss of his leg so hard. He’s treating his own misery as penance.”
“But how could he? My situation had been different. He had tortured me to protect me. But to have tortured Inessa, he would have been only protecting himself, like coward.” I felt sick.
“She told him to.” Mae covered her mouth, smothering a sob. “He was refusing, and on the pretense of fighting back she tackled him and whispered for him to do did. That he was more valuable than her. She told him it was the only way, that she forgave him. They would have come for me too if they’d known about us.”
Mae, the love of Inessa’s life, wept. For nearly two decades the women had to hide their love, and still, Fandrin had managed to tear it away from them.
“Could she still be alive?” I asked gently. It was a possibility. The Minister had a bad habit of liking to play with his victims instead of killing them.
“We don’t know. She was when Ryker left.” Mae looked up, pleading with me to understand. “Is it terrible to say I hope not. You know better than any what The Ministry is capable of. Would you wish that on her?”
It was my turn to look away. “No. I wouldn’t.”
“THAT’S IT!!” ARCHER exploded from her chair, nearly unseating those closest to her. “What the hell are we doing here?” She threw her hands up dramatically.
Arstid, Petra and Zeek, who had just been outlining our next line of attack possibilities, looked affronted.
Archer blazed on, ignoring their looks. “Let’s be honest. That plan is crap. All the plans we’ve had are crap! Our two best strategists have pretty much gone to the shitter and you all let them!” She rounded on Ryker. His unshaven chin tightened, eyes narrowing.
“Yeah, you lost your leg,” Archer waved her stump of an arm in h
is face. “Sucks doesn’t it. But you know what, you’re alive. You’re here. And if you spent less time pissing and moaning about all the things you can’t do, maybe you’d realize all the things you can. Everyone gets a pity party now and again pretty boy, but not a whole damn parade. Your people need you. Suck it up.”
Ryker’s mouth opened, but instead of shouting back as I expected, he snapped it shut again. He crossed his arms, flexing them over his chest. But for the first time in weeks, he continued to glare at Archer and not down at his missing leg.
Archer’s finger then swung wide, seeking me out at the back of the room. “And you!” Still pointing at me, she glared down everyone else in the room. “So she’s Fandrin’s granddaughter… Big freakin’ deal! Teya’s my mother,” she gestured at the Wraith leader with her missing hand. Both mother and daughter recoiled from this admission. “That changes nothing. Does it? So, I’m the descendant of one of Tartarus’s most fearsome Tribe leaders. Big whoop. You’re still listening to me.” She wheeled back in my direction. “So, you better start speaking up again and you all had better start listening!”
A few shamed faces cast downward, but a strange look passed over Teya.
Pride?
“Now. Let’s make a real plan. I’m not dying of starvation down here sitting around waiting, talking pointless strategies. I want an end game.”
“We can’t just—” Mae began to protest, but Archer cut her off with a look that made me cringe.
“Don’t want to hear it. Say it with me. END GAME.” She turned on Petra, who sat up straighter. “Petra, your husband got what I asked for yet?”
“Yeah, I think so, but it hasn’t been tested.” Petra spoke confidently, there was even a smile playing at her lips. Unlike most, Archer didn’t intimidate her. I had the feeling Petra even liked Archer.
“Well, no time like the present.” Archer barked and began marching over to Ryker.
“I agree.” Petra got up from her chair with an air of excitement and headed toward the door. “Doc’s room in fifteen?”
“Yup!” Shockingly, Archer stooped, snagged Ryker’s right arm and began hauling him to his feet. She shouldered most of his weight as he wobbled on the one foot, dragging his arm over her shoulder. Ryker’s face went beet red and I honestly thought he was going to punch her, but Triven slipped quickly under his left arm. It looked like he was helping, until Triven’s knuckles went white around Ryker’s wrist. He was supporting the man, but Triven was also restraining him. If Ryker hit Archer, she would hit back, missing leg or not.
“P, get them headed in the right direction, then grab Mouse and meet us at Doc’s.” She paused halfway through the door causing Ryker and Triven to stagger. Archer glanced at her mother. “It’s time you started speaking up too, we didn’t bring you here out of adoration. You’re essential to this rebellion. Start acting like it.”
Teya bristled, but her daughter was already leaving.
Arstid sat back appraising me, her arms folded. “Fine, Prea, what’s our next move?”
“Arstid.” There was a warning in Baxter’s tone. Mae shot her an equally disdainful look. While I appreciated it, I didn’t need their protection.
I cleared my throat. “We come out of hiding. If Fandrin won’t come out of his Tower to meet us face-to-face, then we’ll bring the war to him.”
Arstid snorted, her thin lips practically disappearing. “And how exactly do you propose we do that? The Tower is a fortress. And I don’t need to remind you about their new bombs.” No, she didn’t need to remind us. “We won’t get within ten blocks—”
“That’s not necessarily true.” Teya’s voice echoed in the room, a smug smile crept to the woman’s lips.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one holding out.
37. GIFTS
M OUSE WAS TRAINING in the main room with Xavier when I found her. Her thin arms were looking less childlike these days. Muscles had started to stretch under her pale skin. Skin that was covered in tiny white scars. The marks from her brother’s bombs were miniscule in comparison to most of us, but they were still there. Each nick cut at me. She had refused to let us heal them.
As I approached, the two of them had attacked quite the audience and though Xavier was clearly restraining himself, she was not. It was frightening how much of myself I saw in her. It took a significate amount of focus to rearrange my face before calling to her. When she looked up, the distraction earned her a cuff to the ear. Staggering away, she cursed. A strange sound in her newly sweet voice. I frowned. I was going to have to give Archer a lecture about her colorful vocabulary around Mouse.
“Sorry to interrupt,” I approached them slowly, keenly aware that their onlookers were now watching me. Xavier stepped back and it pleased me to see he was panting. It was maybe wrong to be proud, but I was. Mouse was getting better—not that I ever wanted her to use those skills.
What’s up? Mouse signed pausing to take a sip of water from the cup Xavier had handed her.
“Archer wants us.” I replied.
She frowned, glancing back at Xavier, clearly unwilling to cut her training short. Then her face went slack as a thought stole her attention. Mouse’s face lit up for the first time in weeks. “Doc!?”
“Yeah something about—” I stopped talking as Mouse ran past me. She came to an abrupt halt and turned back to grab my hand.
“Hurry!” She commanded, dragging me behind her.
Doc’s room was an old janitorial closet. Our most recent hideout was something Zeek had called a TAC—Technological Advances Center. Mae and Thadd had tried to convince me that securing this place was a “big win”. I knew there was value in it, that all the wires, screens and scattered mechanical parts were good for something. But personally, I would have preferred an armory. I was much better with knives than technical crap. Doc seemed to be the only one of us who was as excited as his brother. The two could been seen at all hours, heads touching as they worked over something. Normally Doc’s closet felt welcoming, abuzz with his enthusiasm, but today it felt downright moody and hostile. Mostly due to its current inhabitants.
Triven was near the door when we entered. Mouse was quick to touch his hand as she passed. I took up the space next to him, letting our shoulders touch. I shot him a curious glance, but Triven only shrugged his wide shoulders. At least I wasn’t in the dark alone. Archer was holding up the wall diagonal from us, tapping her toe impatiently.
Wood creaked as Ryker shifted his weight. He sat on a makeshift table made of crates and a door, surrounded by glass jars filled with blue liquids and scattered mechanical fragments. Shockingly, Mouse hopped up next to him, rattling the jars as she settled herself in. Ryker barely seemed to notice. He was picking at the folds of fabric creasing his right pant leg. Prodding the place where his leg had been.
"I thought we were supposed to be planning. End game and all." Ryker's glare moved sluggishly up to Archer who stood cross-armed on the opposite side of the room.
"You're not fit to plan anything. Not unless we can scream The Minister to death." She sniped back.
"Pfffft. Please, and what are you going to do, fix me?" He waved a hand around Doc's impromptu lab, then slapped what was left of his right leg instantly wincing in pain. "I'm freaking useless!" Ryker's voice rose and Mouse scooted away from him. He seemed to take notice of her for the first time, almost startled to find the child sitting next to him. "Sorry..." he muttered, dropping his voice. Mouse signed, it's okay. But didn't move closer. The room was so completely silent I could hear the ticking of my father's pocket watch under her shirt.
"Yeah well, you're way beyond fixing anyway. Your momma probably dropped you when you were a kid—" Archer paused, scrutinizing him further. "Twice."
Ryker glared back angrily, but at least he didn't throw anything. In fact, he sat up taller.
"Maybe three times." I added, taking advantage of his momentary lapse back to humanity. Triven let out a stifled cough that sounded close to a laugh.
"
Yuck it up lover boy. You're not so pretty yourself anymore." Ryker smirked for the first time in weeks.
Triven’s mouth ticked up, recognizing the same hint of the old arrogant soldier, but he kept a cool facade. "I'm sorry, what did you say? This ear seems to be deaf to bullshit lately."
Mouse covered up a giggle that quickly turned into a snort and the five of us burst into a smattering of laughter. It felt a little tense, forced even, but there was a genuine flash of teeth in Ryker's halfhearted smile.
As the laughter died off, Ryker took a shaky breath. "If you can't fix me, why are we here?"
He was pleading with Archer this time, he wanted to be fixed, to feel whole again. She stiffened at the pain in his voice. "We're improving you, not fixing."
"And how do you plan to do that exactly?" Ryker pressed. I was genuinely curious myself. Losing the ability to walk had killed something in Ryker. I couldn’t see a quick fix.
A chipper voice cut in from the doorway. "It's all about who you know."
Petra glided into Doc’s makeshift office, twirling a small tool in her hand. Her stunning megawatt smile lit the room. Like most of us, she had lost weight since our first meeting when I had borrowed her face, but she was still beautiful—sienna skin glowing, green eyes vibrant. And still a hugger. I usually avoided getting too close to her for that reason.
The brothers trailed her, both men wearing an expression of excitement and apprehension. Doc clutched his black bag while Thadd carried something heavy looking, bundled up in a grey blanket. Mouse jumped down from the table, making space for whatever it was the men were carrying, but didn’t go far. She ran to Archer, throwing her arms around Archer’s thin waist, sharing a look of excited knowing. It irritated me that they had a secret I was not privy to. Placing the blanket carefully next to Ryker, the brothers began unwrapping its contents. Triven and I stepped closer to get a better look as the men worked. Ryker watched them warily. When they stepped back, Petra winked at me while Archer and Mouse beamed.
New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series Page 28