The Extinction Series | Book 4 | Primordial Earth 4

by Higgins, Baileigh

  A single tear slipped down her face and dripped onto the cloth. The damp spot drew her gaze, and she brushed her thumb across it. Dorian. I thought I was strong… invincible, but you proved me wrong.

  It was a miracle she survived that night, and the road to recovery had proved long and hard. Even now, she hurt, more than she was willing to admit—both in body and mind.

  A loud knock on the door caused her to jump, and terror spurted through her veins. For a second, she loomed over the abyss. It reached for her with dark tentacles that threatened to drag her into its nightmarish embrace.

  Kat squeezed her eyes shut and uttered the phrase Callum had used during the long days and nights of her recovery. He’d chant it to her whenever she weakened, when the fear became too much, and the memories too real. He’d rush into her room when she screamed herself awake at night and whisper it into her ear while he held her close. Not today. Maybe tomorrow, but not today.

  “Not today,” she repeated.

  She opened her eyes and brushed the tears from her cheeks. With swift strides, she crossed the floor and opened the door. Silhouetted within its frame stood Callum, his red hair gleaming in the light. Canny blue eyes bored into her soul, and he frowned. “Again?”

  Kat nodded. “Almost.”

  “Was it the knock?”

  “Loud noises scare me,” she admitted.

  “Tis okay. It’ll pass, I promise.”

  “I know,” she said, raising the mask to her face.

  “No,” Callum said, grabbing her hands. “You dinna need it.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “No, ye don’t. Yer beautiful just the way you are,” Callum said, his touch warm and comforting.

  She sighed. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  “Ye dinna have to come. I’ll make sure it’s done,” Callum said.

  “I know.”

  “Don’t be afraid. I’ll be right there with ye the entire time.”

  “I’m scared,” she whispered, staring at the mask. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “Yes, ye do. You’re stronger than ye realize,” he said.

  She bit her lip, torn. Can I do this? Should I?

  Callum waited, his well of patience infinite. He wouldn’t push her, nor would he make the decision for her. It’s up to me and me alone.

  She tucked the mask into her pocket and offered up her arm. “Lead the way.”

  Callum escorted her through the corridors of Prime Hotel. Much had happened since the change in leadership. The lavish rooms no longer housed the elite. Instead, they were being put to the use of the people.

  The bottom floor served as a community center. It provided clothes, food, and temporary beds to the homeless. People in need could seek assistance from their staff with exceptional cases referred to either Kat, Callum, or Patti. The library served as a school, educating the young and old alike. The former gym operated as a rehabilitation center for the disabled.

  Kat, Graham, Patti, and a few others still lived on the top floor, though their rooms were not nearly as luxurious as before. Nor did the bulk of the supplies go to the hotel anymore. Instead, a new system was set up whereby everyone who couldn’t work was allotted a fair share of the food and other necessities. Those able to work earned their wages, with decent pay and decent hours. People were no longer treated as slaves or exploited by those more fortunate.

  The Watch patrolled the streets and hunted down criminals, their ranks filled out with former rebels. A court system was put into place to mete out punishments, and the streets were safer than ever before. Crooked gambling joints soon closed their doors, as did the many illegal distilleries. To operate, they needed to apply for a permit and submit to a strict set of rules.

  There was still much to be done, and daily obstacles arose to stymie their efforts. Not everyone welcomed the new regime, but progress was being made. For the first time in years, Kat felt like she was part of something good. Even the atmosphere in the city had changed from one of despair to cautious hope. It was the start of a new beginning, the start of a new era.

  Not so today. Today was a dark day for Kat, and she leaned heavily on Callum for support. When they reached the exit, he paused. “Are ye sure yer up for this, lass?”

  She hesitated for a brief moment before she nodded. “I am.”

  “Good. Ye’ll feel better afterward, I guarantee it,” he replied. “Tis like lancing a boil. It’ll hurt, and it won’t be pretty, but it must be done.”

  “A boil?” Kat repeated with a shudder. “What a graphic image.”

  “Aye, but tis the truth.”

  “Thank you, Callum.”

  “For what?” he asked, his copper eyebrows furrowing.

  “For helping me through this and for finding him,” she said.

  “Tis nothing, my sweet. Ye know I’d do anything for ye.”

  “I know, and I love you for it,” she said, smiling at him. It was true. He would do anything for her, and his devotion was the reason she got up every day. It gave her the strength to carry on when all she wanted to do was hide.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and his cheeks grew flushed beneath her warm regard.

  It was a trait she found endearing, and she squeezed his arm in response. He was her rock, her ship in stormy seas.

  “It’s this way, lass,” Callum said, leading her to one of the smaller squares in the city. The streets were quiet at that hour. Most people were at work or school, and she was sure it was no accident. Callum knew she was shy, hating the stares directed her way whenever she walked in public. Once again, she was struck by the sheer magnitude of his kindness. There will never be another like him. I’m lucky to have him in my life, and I can’t allow my encounter with Dorian to ruin that.

  They reached their destination within minutes: A rough square on the edge of town. Members of the Watch patrolled the entry points, and they let Callum and Kat through after brief questioning.

  A long low building occupied one end of the square and served as the new jail. Douglas’ creepy dungeons were a thing of the past, and the prisoners within its walls were freed. It was the first thing Kat insisted on when they took over Prime.

  It wasn’t the jail that drew her attention, though. It was the wooden structure that dominated the middle of the square. The gallows. An instrument of execution.

  Her mouth became dry, and she drew to a stop. The wooden structure was new, the beams so fresh she could smell the sawdust. The sun shone down on the rough cobbles, breaking through the dark clouds overhead as if to highlight the latest addition to Prime.

  “I… where is he?” Kat asked, her mind in a whirl.

  “In there,” Callum said, pointing at the jail.

  “Is he alone?”

  “No. He has two other cellmates. Both were found guilty of participating in yer torture and assault,” Callum said, his eyes darkening.

  “So, you got them all,” Kat murmured.

  “That I did, as promised, Mistress Mewes,” Callum replied, switching to formal mode. He took her hand in his and pressed his lips to the skin. “I always keep my word.”

  Tears stung her eyelids, and her lips quivered. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

  “There’s no need to thank me, but are ye sure ye want to do this?” he asked.

  “I do, but only as long as you stay by my side.”

  Callum squeezed her hand. “Always, my love.”

  He escorted her to the jail and led her up the steps to the front door. A guard allowed them entry, unlocking the steel door. They passed through a sparsely furnished office staffed by the head-jailer or warden, Mr. Garcia.

  It’d been Garcia’s idea to put prisoners to use in the City. They performed basic tasks such as cleaning the streets, emptying the public latrines, repairing and maintaining the wall, tilling the fields, and other such menial tasks. Already the city looked and smelled better than it had in years.

  Garcia jumped up when he saw them and greeted Callum
with a broad smile. “Good day, Sir. How may I be of service?”

  “We wish to see one of yer prisoners. Dorian Martell,” Callum replied.

  Garcia smiled. “I’ll admit the man is not one of my favorites, Sir. He’s both arrogant and difficult.”

  “I’m sure he is, but not fer long. His time is up. We simply wish to bid him a fond farewell,” Callum said with a sardonic grin.

  “Of course. This way, Sir.”

  Garcia led them through the staff quarters toward the cell blocks. They walked past a kitchen, a common area, a library, a bathroom, and a laundry. Each room boasted barred windows and a steel door manned by an armed guard. Inside, low-level prisoners prepared food, did the washing, mopped floors, and cleaned toilets.

  “These are our model prisoners,” Garcia explained. “Their crimes were minor, and they’ve since earned a measure of trust through good behavior.”

  “What about Dorian?” Kat asked.

  “He’s confined to his cell after he broke a fellow inmate’s nose. He smashed the man’s face into a wall,” Garcia. “Apparently, the inmate refused to address him as My Lord.”

  “That sounds like Dorian, all right,” Kat said with a wry tone.

  Beyond the living areas lay the cells: Rows of small concrete squares with tiny windows and little in the way of comfort. It was damp and cold, and their footsteps echoed through the narrow corridor.

  Kat shivered at the sudden drop in temperature, rubbing her arms. Her stomach churned with a mixture of anticipation and fear. Did she really want to face Dorian? Speak to him? You have to. It’s the only way.

  When Garcia pointed at a particular cell, she halted mid-step. “Is that him?”

  “It is,” he said with a brisk nod.

  Kat moved forward slowly, each step a battle fought and won in her mind. When she rounded the corner, her gaze swept the inside of the cell until it landed on a slim figure. Dorian.

  He stood ready to greet her, arms clasped behind his back. His grey suit was immaculate, and his shoes had been polished until they gleamed. Dark hair curled around his collar, and his long lashes were the envy of women everywhere. How could someone so evil be blessed with the face of an angel?

  “Dorian,” Kat said, her voice hoarse.

  “Why, Kitten. So nice of you to visit me. I regret I cannot offer you any refreshments, but I do look forward to a chat. After all, we have such a long and complicated history.” A half-smile played across his lips, and his eyes danced with amusement.

  In an instant, the glue that held together the pieces of her soul dissolved into nothing. The universe crashed down around her feet, and she was swept away on a river of dark memories. It was nothing more than a joke to him. She was a joke to him.

  Kat’s mouth opened, but not a sound came out.

  Dorian whistled. “What’s wrong, Kitten? Cat got your tongue?”

  The familiar sensation of panic tugged at her mind, and her knees threatened to buckle. She wanted to howl like a banshee. She wanted to tear at her hair and scratch at her skin until the blood ran.

  Gone was the strong, confident, sassy woman who fought tooth and nail for her place in the world. In her place was a frail, shivering, scared little girl, afraid of her own shadow. Like a shattered porcelain doll, she’d never be the same again.

  “I must say, I’m impressed,” Dorian continued.

  “Impressed?” Kat asked, barely holding herself together.

  “You see. I truly did not expect you to survive,” he said. “I thought you were dead for sure, yet here you are. A cat with nine lives.”

  “Indeed,” Kat replied, clenching her hands into fists.

  “Are you alright, my dear?” Dorian asked with feigned concern. “Do you need to sit down? You look a little pale.”

  “I’m fine, thank you,” Kat said through gritted teeth. A knot of anger unfurled in her stomach—anger at her own weakness in the face of his derision.

  “Tell me something, Kitten. How’s the new look working out for you? I must confess, if it wasn’t for that magnificent figure, I wouldn’t have recognized you,” Dorian said. “Such curves are rather wasted on you now, aren’t they?”

  Kat bared her teeth and hissed. Her nails cut into her palms until they drew blood. She longed to scratch his eyes out, and it was only Callum’s silent presence that kept her from losing her composure.

  Dorian’s eyes flickered from her to Callum, and he raised his eyebrows. “A new lover? I find that rather surprising. Though I suppose you might be able to charm your way into somebody’s bed… as long as the lights are off.”

  “Mind yer tongue, laddie, or I’ll have it cut out for ye,” Callum warned.

  Dorian raised his hands in mock surrender. “Do forgive me. I fear my stay in this… fine establishment has tainted my manners.”

  “I will never forgive you, Dorian. Never,” Kat said. “And today, I’ll see you hang for it.”

  Dorian pulled a face. “What? No fond goodbyes? But we used to be so close.”

  “You’re a monster!”

  “That I am. It’s too bad you realized it so late in the game, or you might have saved yourself,” Dorian mused.

  Kat stormed the bars, but Callum held her back. “Not today, my sweet.”

  She stopped struggling in an instant. The words were a soothing balm to her ragged soul, and she flashed him a grateful look. “Maybe tomorrow, but not today.”

  Dorian’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Not today? Is that some sort of secret code between you two? How quaint.”

  Kat laughed, long and loud. “Mock me while you can, Dorian, for soon, you’ll be nothing but food for the worms.”

  Dorian blinked, and his mask slipped. Beneath the cool veneer lay naked terror. He gripped the bars. “You can’t do this to me. You have no right.”

  Kat stepped closer and lifted the hood from her head. “Look at my face, Dorian.”

  His eyes flickered across her features before he averted his gaze. “I’d rather not.”

  “Look at me!” Kat thundered, and he reluctantly locked eyes with her. “I have every right. When the executioner puts the noose around your neck, remember that it was my hand that sent you to the gallows. My voice. My decision.”

  “It was a mistake,” Dorian said, his voice hoarse.

  Kat cocked her head. “What was that?”

  “It was a mistake,” Dorian said, louder this time.

  “And?”

  “And I’m sorry. Please, forgive me,” Dorian said.

  “Are you asking for a pardon?” Kat said.

  “Yes. I don’t want to die. I’ll do anything. Anything at all,” Dorian pleaded.

  Kat shook her head. “Soon, no one will even remember your name. You’ll die, and your body will turn to dust until you are nothing. Do you hear me? Nothing.”

  Dorian stared at her, his mouth working.

  “What’s that? Cat got your tongue?” Kat said.

  With her head held high, she swept around and marched toward the exit. Along the way, she spotted his two accomplices and paused. One was tall and thin, the other short and stocky. Both had black hair, brown eyes, and hooked noses.

  Brothers, Kat realized. She stared at them with all the disdain she could muster. “I hope it was worth it. In the end, all he did was ensure your damnation.”

  Neither of the two replied, and she walked away without a backward glance. When she reached the exit, Dorian’s frantic cries echoed through the bleak space.

  “Don’t do this, I beg of you. Save me,” he screamed. “You loved me once. Remember?”

  I remember, Kat thought. I remember everything.

  “You loved me!”

  She stepped through the door, and it swung shut with a heavy clang. Dorian’s pleas were cut off mid-sentence, and Kat sucked in a deep breath. “That was… awful.”

  Callum placed a steadying hand on her elbow. “Are ye alright, lass?”

  “I will be,” she said, breathing in his warm, comforti
ng scent.

  “That’s my Kat,” Callum said, planting a kiss on her forehead.

  “What about the execution?” Garcia asked. “Do we continue?”

  Kat lifted her chin. “Yes. Let them hang.”

  ***

  Six members of the Watch led Dorian and his two accomplices toward the gallows. Kat watched from the privacy of a balcony, hidden behind a sheer curtain.

  One by one, the prisoners were lined up on the platform, and their crimes read out loud. There was no priest to pray for them, and they weren’t given a chance to speak. For them, there would be no salvation that day—only death.

  A small crowd watched from the square, and they cheered when the executioner placed the noose around Dorian’s neck. He was universally known and hated by all of Prime. Except for his erstwhile patrons, of course, but none of them dared speak in his defense.

  The executioner pulled the lever, and the floor dropped. Dorian and his accomplices jerked and swayed at the end of their ropes, their faces turning puce. No amount of kicking could save them, and death was slow to come.

  Kat watched the entire time, not daring to blink lest she missed it. She wanted to see him die. It was the only thing that would grant her peace. Callum was right. It’s like lancing a boil. Time to get rid of the poison.

  ***

  “It’s over,” Kat said once Dorian’s corpse was loaded onto a cart.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “Take me home, Callum.”

  Callum reached out and took her hand. “It will be alright now. Ye’ll see.”

  “I know,” Kat said. That night with Dorian had changed her, and she would never get back what she’d lost, but it didn’t matter. Like a phoenix, she would rise from the ashes, stronger and better than ever before.

  Together, they walked back to Prime Hotel. There was much work to be done, and Kat was eager to get started. With a jaunty step, she danced through the street but paused when a guard flagged them down.

  “Sir! Lord MacNamara, please wait,” the guard cried, his face red from exertion.

  Callum shook his head, annoyed. “Stop calling me Lord, will ye? It’s Callum, or MacNamara if you must.”