Shattered Stars

by Theresa Kay

  “No,” says Miri.

  Gavin curses under his breath and drags a hand down his face.

  Bullets fly as the askari spread throughout the room try to fight back. They’re mercilessly cut down. The few Council members who try to help are even less effective. They have the speed of the E’rikon, but not the finesse or instincts of natural fighters. One of them jumps from one level of chairs to a higher one in order to grab one of the soldiers, but immediately receives a bullet in her head from behind. Another Council member is shot trying to crawl beneath the seats.

  Glancing upward, I see that two of the four Vi’askari have already been cut down. The remaining two, however, are making some progress. They’re quick, never leaving the cover of the chairs for more than an instant, and their actions are coordinated. I watch as one Vi’askari pops out from hiding just long enough to distract a soldier while the other Vi’askari appears behind the man and snaps his neck.

  It all happens amazingly fast—but not fast enough. The first Vi’askari, the teal-haired one, jerks to the side as a bullet lodges in his shoulder. He grimaces and puts his hand over the wound before ducking back into cover. Moments later, the two Vi’askari pull off the same maneuver with a second soldier, taking him down as well. But the teal-haired one is faltering, and the other soldiers are now concentrating their firepower on this new threat.

  The Vi’askari disappear from view once more. Two soldiers break off to search the rows of chairs while the others continue upward.

  Gavin is just in front of Kai and Miri, peering around the edge of the table with Harrison at his side. He clenches and unclenches his fists as he follows the movements of the soldiers. He’s helpless. We all are. Suddenly coming to the city armed seems like it would have been a great idea.

  My fingers absentmindedly move to my leg again, itching to grab hold of a blade. A weapon, any weapon would make me feel better, but…

  Wait. I rub my fingertips together and glance at Vitrad. I’m a weapon.

  I rise into a crouch and edge forward.

  Lir’s hand grabs at my shirt, and alarm crashes through the bond.

  I have to do something. It’s our only chance.

  Let the Vi’askari handle this. His worry is morphing into an irrational terror—so irrational that he can’t see that the Vi’askari are not going to win this fight.

  We can’t just sit here and wait for them to go away. I gently pull out of his hold and send him a pleading look along with as much reassurance as I can muster. Let me do this.

  Lir closes his eyes and gives me a jerky nod.

  I start to edge around the table again when Gavin stops me. “I don’t have to be telepathic to guess what you’re thinking of doing. It’s not a good idea.”

  “What other choice do we have?” I snap. I curl my hands into fists and stare at the soldiers, working on generating enough rage to do something.

  Gavin grabs my bicep. “Jax, your powers are unstable at best. What if whatever your grandfather did affects your abilities too? What if—”

  “Don’t call him my grandfather,” I hiss. The anger building under my skin is growing quickly, sending fire through my veins.

  “Fine then. Do what you have to, but try not to hit us.” He motions Harrison forward.

  Hit them? What are—?

  Gavin leans down and pulls a small gun from a holster on his ankle. So does Harrison. I narrow my eyes, and Gavin shrugs. “I wasn’t planning on flashing them around like the other two, but I don’t go anywhere unarmed.” He looks at Harrison and tilts his head toward me. Harrison jerks his chin up in acknowledgment and hands me a knife that was hidden in the small of his back.

  My eyebrows rise.

  “We’ll only get one chance to surprise them,” Gavin says. “Right now they’re focused on securing a good postion where they can just sit and wait us all out, but as soon as they realize we’re armed, they’ll concentrate on taking us out like they’re doing to the Vi’askari now. Wait for my signal before you do anything.”

  He motions for me to crouch so only my eyes are over the top of the table. With hand motions, he signals Harrison to take the right side of the room, while he creeps up the left.

  The remaining Council members have stopped trying to fight back and are sheltering in place. I see no sign of the two men who were searching through the rows—hopefully they’re dead. But now the remaining five soldiers have changed tactics. They’ve stopped their upward progress and have taken over the search for the two Vi’askari still navigating through the rows unseen.

  Gavin ducks into the first row and creeps toward a solitary soldier standing at the edge of the second row. I watch him closely, waiting for a signal, but he doesn’t even glance back. He grabs the soldier from behind, slams a knife into his back, and lowers the man to the ground. After a quick look toward Harrison, he heads higher, moving slowly and keeping low to the ground.

  Crouched low so he can’t be seen by the soldiers above, Harrison moves up the rows just as one of the Vi’askari pops up to grapple with a soldier. Harrison waits until the soldier takes a swing toward the E’rikon, then leaps from his hiding place and locks an arm around the soldier’s throat, pulling him to the floor behind the seats. The Vi’askari, his chest rising and falling rapidly, studies Harrison for a moment before darting back into cover.

  There are five soldiers left. One up top, two in the center of the room, and one in each doorway. And these men are on their guard now, staying well away from any spots where the Vi’askari—or Gavin or Harrison—could be hiding in wait. There will be no chance to take these men down with stealth—no more picking them off one by one. We’ll have to take them all down quickly.

  Gavin’s eyes find mine, and he tilts his head toward the soldier in the middle of the room, on the right. Apparently that one’s mine, and Gavin’s taking the one on the left. He catches Harrison’s eye and points two fingers toward the doorway on Harrison’s side.

  Harrison nods.

  Something is buzzing under my skin, begging to be released. My fingers tighten around the handle of the knife Harrison gave me, and I trace the course it needs to take if I throw it. Thunk. My stomach rolls as I imagine the sound of a knife hitting flesh. I could use my abilities. I want to use my abilities. It could be silent and bloodless if I do it right. But do I have that much finesse? Hell no.

  I nod to Gavin and flip the knife so the blade is in my hand.

  Gavin raises his gun, and the soldier’s head flies back as a bullet strikes it. “Now, Jax!”

  The knife flies from my fingers and hits the other soldier in the shoulder. Not in the spot I aimed for, but it knocks him to the side.

  Gavin shifts his aim to the doorway on his side of the room—or more specifically, he aims at the soldier running from it. He takes the shot.

  But he doesn’t see the soldier from the other doorway taking aim. I do. I’m about to shout a warning when a bullet from Harrison’s gun drops that man in his tracks. Without pause, without checking to be sure his friend has his back, Gavin slides the barrel of his gun to the soldier I injured. He fires.

  Two more shots ring out. The Vi’askari wraps an arm in front of his waist and crumples to the floor between the seats. The last soldier, the one who just shot the Vi’askari, goes down almost simultaneously, thanks to a bullet from Harrison’s gun.

  The whole thing lasted a minute. At the most.

  Gavin hops over seat backs and down two rows to reach the Vi’askari. He tugs his shirt over his head, and I’m assuming he presses the fabric to the wound. Harrison’s in action too, moving from row to row and taking stock of the injured—and the dead. Lir and Rym come up behind me, and the three of us fan out through the room to help.

  I suddenly understand why Gavin’s unit was sent to Bridgelake and why he has the reputation he does. He’s ruthless when necessary, and damn effective. I’m glad he’s on my side.

  I REMEMBER BEING IN THE cell. I remember getting out. I remember getting to Peter. A
fter that… my thoughts are fuzzy and disjointed, running this way and that until I’m not entirely sure what’s real. The only thing I know for certain is that Grandfather’s somewhere else.

  Did we really escape? Did we run or walk? Did anyone see us? How long have we been out here?

  The questions swirl through my head in an endless stream. Every time I try to concentrate on one of them, my mind drifts away to the next. I’m pretty sure we escaped, but…

  Peter has a rifle, and I’m not sure where it came from beyond the fact that he pulled it from the branches of a tree outside the wall. It’s slung across his back, jostling slightly with each uneven step. That, most of all, is what makes this seem like it’s all a hopeful dream. I’m not here. He’s not here. And we’re certainly not traipsing through the woods outside of Bridgelake.

  A branch flies back and smacks me in the face. Ouch. My fingers rise to my cheek and come away wet with smudged blood. You don’t bleed in dreams, right?

  “It’s just ahead,” Peter whispers. “I didn’t want to take the risk of anyone finding it if I parked too close.”

  I nod. Oh yeah, he can’t see me. “Okay.”

  “I have a few old maps. Do you think you can remember the way there? The base is only a couple hundred miles away or so, but there’s a lot of places to get lost in between. And I’m sure they’ll come after us eventually, though hopefully not until after Jastren returns from his trip to the city. Do you know what he’s doing there? That awful Daniel who grabbed me, the one who was out at my cabin there for a bit, was blathering on about it like something big was about to happen.”

  “Yeah. No. City?”

  He shoots a concerned glance over his shoulder, his brows pulled together. He’s worried. About me. It hurts, that worry. Like a knife to the gut. It cuts into me, letting in all the guilt and the grief. Because I don’t deserve his worry. I don’t deserve anyone’s worry… unless they’re worried I might hurt someone.

  The images start again, a slideshow of my worst moments played out as a reflection in blue eyes.

  My breath hisses in through my teeth. I have to stop walking, have to put my head in my hands, have to close my eyes and push it away again. It’s harder on my own, and once again, I foolishly wish for Grandfather’s blocks on my memory.

  Oh, God. The pictures go screeching through my head again, scraping along every nerve ending. Too many deaths. Too much blood. It’s all too much… And it’s all on me.

  Two hands land on my shoulders, and Peter stares up at me from under his brows. “You are lost right now and can’t see through the darkness, but I will guide you. And much like I told your sister, nothing you say will ever make me think any less of you. No matter what, I have faith in you. Your sister has faith in you.”

  I look through the too-long hair that has fallen over my eyes. “She does? How do you know?”

  “Because I know your sister.” He raises his brows and claps me on the back with one hand. “Now, we need to keep moving. If we’re caught, anything could happen, and I don’t want to find out what that anything could be.”

  “He’d make me kill you,” I whisper. There’s no doubt in my mind Grandfather would have me rip the old priest’s mind apart. “He takes away all the good things.”

  He nods, understanding in his eyes. “I know, but I won’t be letting him take any more. You’re safe now.” He begins walking again.

  Safe? I barely remember what that means.

  The hope in my chest burns, a flicker of flame against all the darkness inside me. Still… Peter’s words are just that: words. He knows as well as I do that if Grandfather wants to take something from me, nobody will be able to stop him. Not even I could stop him when he took one of the most important things in my life from me—when he made me shove the knife into my lover’s stomach and leave him dying on the floor. My heart still lies shattered in that room, on that floor, slowly being ground into nothing…

  But I’ve lived this long without it. What’s a little longer?

  Hot tears track down my cheeks and drip from my chin, but I put one foot in front of the other and walk forward.

  A few minutes later we come out of the trees onto an old fire road. There’s a truck parked there, not Peter’s old hunk of junk, but a newer one. Shiny and black with big tires.

  “Where’d that come from?”

  Peter gives me a mischievous wink. “I borrowed it.”

  “Borrowed?”

  He shrugs. “No one was using it. It was in one of Lenny’s old compounds, and I don’t think there’s anything left of Lenny’s crew. Except Stu. Who I’m assuming is still with your sister. Besides, I’m returning the thing to its rightful owners anyway. Lenny ‘borrowed’ it himself a few months back when some of those military guys were running reconnaissance out by the city.” He taps the stock of the gun. “That’s where this came from too. I’m not sure what they were doing out there, but they had enough equipment that they didn’t seem too bothered by losing an entire truck. Although… I never actually talked to them. Mmm. They might not be too happy with me if we roll up in one of their trucks. Perhaps…”

  “It’ll be okay,” I croak. “We can always ditch it when we get close if things aren’t looking good.”

  He smiles. Perhaps he’s just pleased I managed to string together so many words. “Yes. That sounds acceptable.” He nods to himself and ushers me toward the truck. “Go ahead and get in so we can be on our way.”

  I hop into the passenger side and watch Peter walk around the front to the driver’s side. He’s a little on the short side, so he literally has to hop a bit to get into the seat, but once he’s settled there, he looks like he belongs there: gun, black clothes, big boots. The only thing out of place is the simple white square at his throat. Such a contradiction. Who is Peter, really? How did he survive out here alone for all these years?

  My questions must show on my face, because he answers them without me saying a word. “I mentioned before I used to travel to preach, yes? Many of my travels were to countries less fortunate than ours… or how ours used to be, I suppose. I learned how to handle a gun and how to survive. You don’t think I managed on my own for so long since the Collapse by luck alone, right? It was a combination of hard work, determination, and faith. God gave me all I needed, and I made do with that.” The engine rumbles as he turns the key. “Maps are on the seat there next to you. Why don’t you take a look and see if you can pick out a good route?”

  I unfold the yellowed paper and smooth it out on my lap. I locate Bridgelake and trace one finger over the roads to the base. There are a few different options. Is short and quick best, or should we stay off the main roads as much as possible? It would take longer that way, but it might help us avoid any pursuers…

  What was I thinking about? I give my head a shake. There’s an ache behind my eyes, and I can’t hold on to a goddamn thought to save my life, but I suddenly feel clearer. More like me. Or the me I was before.

  Is it the distance? Is my head clearing because we’re moving even farther from Grandfather?

  Oh… the map. The base. I blink a few times and turn my focus back to the paper in my lap. “I think we should take Route 40. It’s a little out of the way, but once we get there, it’s pretty much a straight shot to the base.” I clear my throat. “I… uh… thank you.”

  Peter pats my hand. “No need for thanks, my boy.”

  But it is needed. Because Peter is the only one who came for me. Jax—

  She betrayed you.

  Pain lances through my head. I squeeze my eyes shut and lean forward with my elbows on my knees. Rocking back and forth, I shake my head. What is happening to me? Are those sharply stabbing thoughts merely the echoes of Grandfather’s ministrations? Is the pain a side effect?

  Is it permanent?

  I don’t know if I can live the rest of my life like this. Lost. Confused. Angry. I’m not sure what to think or how to think or who I am or…

  My fingers scrape along the skin
at my temples, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to pull me back into the present. I sit back and blink rapidly to clear away the black spots at the edges of my vision.

  “Get some rest,” says Peter. “It’s quite a drive, and you look like you could use it. Might clear your head a bit too.”

  I nod. I do need the rest, but I’m not sure it will do anything for my head. Every time I think I might be pulling it together, something sets me off again. How long will I be coherent this time?

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath. As much as I appreciate them, these moments of clarity are almost torture. Because it’s during these moments I most know what I’ve become. I’m unpredictable. I’m dangerous. I’m absolutely in-fucking-sane. And I’m not going to get better. Worse still, when my head is clear, I know what the best thing to do would be, the best way to keep from hurting anyone else—but I can’t do it.

  It’s an awful thing to know you could snap at any moment, to know you could hurt someone—kill someone—and that you can’t do anything to stop it.

  I can’t snap if I’m sleeping, though. So yes, rest would be good.

  And once we’re at the base… they might be willing to do what I’m too weak to do on my own. Put me out of this misery. In fact, they will probably be more than willing after all the things I’ve done. I just have to find the right person to do it.

  There’s enough blood on my hands. I refuse to let there be any more.

  Leaning my head against the side of the truck, I let myself drift off. One way or another, I’ll find the peace I seek.

  OF THE FIFTY-FOUR COUNCIL MEMBERS, there are twenty-one survivors. All of them are shaken and pale.

  One good thing came out of this. Now that they’ve experienced Jastren’s capabilities and ruthlessness firsthand, they’re all eager to see if an alliance with the humans would be to their benefit. On the other hand, despite the fact he helped save their lives and is part of the very species they’re hoping to ally with, not a one of them has said a word to Gavin.