Shadow (Bridge & Sword: Awakenings #4): Bridge & Sword World

by JC Andrijeski

  By the time the bell goes off, he lets go of his complete control over her light. He is so far in hers by then, it is easy to coax it where he needs it to go.

  Even so, she is half-fighting him, and he feels horror on her, a near terror.

  “Ewald, no… no…”

  He doesn’t stop though, and her hands aren’t forceful enough to make him.

  In minutes she is clutching his shoulder in one hand, her back half-arched in the chair, her legs further apart. He hears voices in the corridor behind them, even lost in the woman’s light, and he ignores her feeble protests until she is moaning.

  He feels his light respond, coiling more deeply into hers, until he is hard, his eyes closed, nearly at the point of losing control. He wants her then, wants her for real. He wants her badly enough that it seethes off his light, a pulse of dense frustration. He sends her that too, sliding his fingers into her, and feels her light open more.

  She cries out weakly, and at that moment, the door to the classroom opens.

  “Pirna,” a familiar voice calls. “I wonder if you would lend me a hand with––”

  The voice cuts itself off in mid-sentence.

  In the silence, he worries briefly that she hasn’t seen, that she’s left, when––

  A scream makes him jump violently, falling backwards when he loses his balance. He slams his already tender back against the thick leg of the desk, letting out an involuntary cry.

  The woman at the door screams again.

  He turns, feeling shame, despite why he’s told himself he’s done it.

  The shame is worse when he sees her face. Then she is shouting at him, and the words penetrate, reaching his mind even as he ducks instinctively, backing away and low down by the tables as if to avoid the missiles of her words.

  “Filthy animal! Filthy, disgusting beast…!”

  She throws things at him then, real missiles, in the form of books from a nearby table, an eraser from the blackboard beside it, and he winces as he ducks.

  Once he reaches the edge of desks by the windows she aims her fury at the woman in the chair. The younger woman is fighting her way back into the room, pulling down her dress, trying to understand what just happened, color blooming so bright over her cheeks that she looks like a different person.

  “You whore! You filthy whore!” Frau Schlossing stands in the middle of the room, her face a dark shade of purple. “To a child… a child!”

  When he looks back, not only Frau Schlossing stands there, but children’s faces peer through the doorway, seeing Miss Pirna clutching the folds of her dress, her face flushed bright as her eyes follow the boy.

  Frau Schlosssing tries to keep them out, but the children point and laugh as Ewald runs away, marking his progress past the row of windows, as one by one he tries the iron handles. He looks for one that might be unlocked, where he thinks he might escape.

  In the back of his mind the faint hope remains, that he still might be able to make it first to the lawn outside, pelt his way into the forest and disappear before Gerwix and Stami get ahead of him. He knows they will be outside soon, if they aren’t already.

  But Frau Schlossing seems to realize what he is doing.

  She moves with surprising speed, cutting him off, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and his hair and half-lifting him off the floor. The shirt cuts into his arms and back where the whip cuts still lay open.

  His hair hurts as she tightens her fingers and he screams and can’t stop screaming even as she shouts in his face.

  “You disgusting vermin! Just where do you think you’re going?”

  24

  WHY

  I BROKE OUT, panting, staring up at the ceiling.

  Unlike the drifting in and out state that accompanied a lot of these jumps, I found myself out, truly out. I let out an involuntary groan as I stared up, hit by a dense pull of separation sickness, bad enough that I couldn’t move. Holding my stomach with one arm, I half curled to my side, fighting to breathe on the sweat-soaked blanket.

  For a long-feeling number of minutes, I lay there, paralyzed. I couldn’t control the nausea that spiraled up in waves, thickening my tongue, filling my mouth with saliva.

  It wasn’t the first time that sickness had come up in these sessions. At times it was bad enough that I wanted to die, that I could barely hold on to rationality. Something about the complete lack of affection at that age twisted any normal desire to be touched into a despair-blackened need, a pit that could never be sated.

  I lay there, unable to move, even to look at him.

  But eventually I had to. I had to look at him.

  When I did, he lay in a similar position as I did, only with his back pressed against the organic wall, his face pressed to the floor, as if seeking sensation anywhere he could find it, in any form. He didn’t move, or meet my gaze.

  I wanted to talk to him.

  I had no idea why, or what I wanted to say, but I wanted to talk to him so badly I had to bite my lip to keep from saying his name.

  I honestly couldn’t tell if he was even aware of me. His eyes were closed, his face slack, almost as if he were somewhere else, somewhere the collar and my light couldn’t reach him. I might have thought he’d passed out, but I could see his lips moving again, reciting words with a uniformity that turned them into a chant.

  Remembering the boy doing the same, I closed my eyes, feeling the nausea worsen.

  I had just started to look away, when his eyes opened.

  He stared at me from where he lay with his cheek against the floor, and I felt the pain in his light, worse than I felt it in mine. I saw him looking at me through it, maybe because he couldn’t refuse contact with anyone at that point, even me.

  I still didn’t expect him to talk to me, so when he did, I jumped.

  “They got me Gisele after that,” he said.

  His words made no sense to me at first.

  Then the name clicked, and I found I understood.

  “The prostitute,” I said.

  He nodded, closing his eyes. I saw pain on his face, and it didn’t disappear in the intervening seconds. I spoke before I knew I intended to.

  “Did she get fired? Miss Pirna?”

  There was a silence. Then he let out a choked laugh.

  “Of course she got fired.”

  “No more inquiries?”

  He shook his head again, his eyes still closed. “No more.”

  “Gods, Revik.”

  He looked at me, and for a moment, I saw a glimmer of that shame.

  “I don’t mean that.” I shook my head, feeling my chest hurt. “That you would even think of that, of doing that to get her fired, to discredit her, at eleven––”

  “I was closer to twenty, Allie.”

  “I know. I know, I just…” I shook my head, closing my eyes. I lay a hand on my forehead. “You were just so…”

  “Small. I know. Gisele thought so, too.”

  “I was going to say young,” I said, turning again.

  He didn’t respond right away, but I saw him settle against the floor again, holding himself tighter with the one arm. Pain remained etched in his features, but he seemed to be breathing easier, maybe just from stabilizing somewhere within it. I couldn’t help but wonder if it was different for him, feeling it now, compared to how it must have been back then.

  As if he’d been reading me past the collar, he spoke up.

  “I wonder sometimes, if I did it more for the sex,” he said.

  He rolled halfway to his back, grimacing a little as he closed his eyes.

  “I wanted her,” he added. ”I had a crush on her, the whole time I was in her class. I used to fantasize about her.”

  Glancing at him, I returned my gaze to the ceiling, biting my lip before I'd thought about why. After a pause, I shook my head.

  “You did it for her. I saw you, Revik. I felt what you felt.”

  “You felt what I told myself at the time,” he corrected me. “That might have
been me lying to myself then, too, Allie.”

  He closed his eyes again, settling his head on the floor.

  “I went to find her, you know,” he said. “When I was older.”

  Flinching a little, I found myself turning my head. When I looked back at him, he was frowning, his eyes still closed as he lay on his back.

  “She’d moved,” he said. “To another town. She was married. I tried to thank her… for trying to help me. I tried to apologize. She couldn’t even look at me. She couldn’t look me in the face.”

  Feeling another pulse of shame off him, I couldn’t answer him at first, lost in his light as I glimpsed an image of her older face.

  The image faded quickly, leaving me with nothing.

  Taking another breath, I looked at him.

  “If you wanted her to touch you, you can’t exactly blame yourself for that,” I said. “Whatever age you were exactly… I remember those years. I remember what it was like, and I had a family, Revik. I had friends. I had a brother.”

  He raised one of his shackled hands, gesturing no in seer.

  “Allie. I don’t want to hear the Jon story again.”

  I felt my cheeks burn, even as a flush of my own shame hit my chest.

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “I know.” He shook his head. “Forget it.”

  But the sick feeling in my stomach wouldn’t dissipate. I bit my lip.

  “Why does that bother you so much?” I said after another moment, turning towards him. “Is it because he was my adopted brother? I knew he was gay, even then, and I was scared. There were this guy, at school…” Thinking about it briefly, I shook my head, realizing I didn’t want to tell him that story, either. “I know it was wrong. I know it was stupid. Just… I had my reasons for asking him.”

  “I know.”

  “Anyway, there’s nothing I can do about it now.” Feeling my jaw harden, I looked at him again. “I wish I’d never told you.”

  He stared at me from the floor, his clear eyes on mine.

  I saw what might have been an apology in them, or maybe just understanding. After another pause, he just nodded.

  “I know. I get it, Allie.”

  “I know you get it. So why does it bother you so much?”

  “It bothers me because he’s my friend.”

  I just stared at him for a moment, stuck on his words. Thinking about them, I stared back up at the ceiling, turning them over again, finding I understood more than I’d thought.

  “Balidor was your friend,” I said, quiet.

  Silence filled the space between us.

  It expanded out of him, hitting at my light. I didn’t move as it reached for me, didn’t look over as I felt him replay my words. I regretted them already, even as it occurred to me that Revik had been talking to me––actually talking to me––for the first time.

  I returned his hard gaze, feeling my chest tighten when his eyes finally shifted away.

  “Why, Allie?” he said.

  I felt my breath stop. I think I reacted more to the feeling coming off him than the words. When I turned my head, he was looking at me again, his clear eyes cold.

  “Why?” he repeated. “I don’t mean me. I’m sure you had your reasons with me. I mean them.”

  “Them?” I said.

  “Yes, them. I thought you loved them. Wreg. Nikka. Jax. Holo. Gar. The others you went in with. You knew what their lives were like before, what it would mean for them to become slaves again.” He paused, swallowing as he looked at me. “Why, Allie? How could you do it? How could you just throw them away like that?”

  I couldn’t move.

  Thoughts rose to answer him, then just seemed to die.

  Finally, I shook my head, wiping my face with one hand.

  “I didn’t throw them away, Revik.”

  Anger pulsed off his light. “Balidor told me they belong to the Lao Hu now. He said you authorized her to raid the place… gave her the damned map coordinates. He said almost none escaped. They were forced to swear allegiance to her then and there, or be faced with a Chinese work camp.”

  I felt that pain in my chest worsen, even as my anger at Balidor flared.

  Well, I’d wondered what he’d been saying to Revik for all of those days.

  Even as I thought it, the anger dissolved, breaking up around me like salt in water. Guilt crippled me instead, and a grief I couldn’t keep out of my light, even as I fought to keep it off my face. I didn’t look at him when I finally spoke.

  “I didn’t authorize that,” I said, hating the words, probably more than he hated hearing them, but unable to change them. “She broke our agreement.”

  “Voi Pai?”

  I nodded, gesturing yes in seer.

  “What was your agreement?”

  I stared up at the ceiling, knowing he would hate this, too, but realizing I wanted to tell him anyway.

  “I needed them distracted,” I said, clearing my throat.

  My voice came out stronger, almost business-like.

  “I needed them contained until I had you somewhere safe. I knew your people. Well enough to know they’d send everything they had after us, once they figured out I’d taken you. Voi Pai was to keep them there, and that was all.”

  “And she accepted that, the leader of the Lao Hu? A job as errand runner to the Bridge?” His voice was openly sarcastic. “Are you really that naïve, Allie?”

  “I offered her payment,” I said angrily. “Tribute was in cache. In weapons. Not in people. Not even in planes. I offered her what you had in those crates, in the main hangar.” I paused, feeling my jaw harden again. “And I offered her Salinse. She seemed to think he might be useful. For intelligence purposes, she said.”

  “You gave her Salinse.”

  “I offered him,” I said angrily, turning. “You’re damned right I did. She was welcome to him, as far as I was concerned. She’s still welcome to him. But he’s the only one of your people that bitch managed not to capture.”

  Revik stared at me, his eyes showing a faint surprise.

  I watched the surprise dissolve back into a colder anger.

  “You’re pretty fucking arrogant these days, Allie,” he said. “Being the Bridge seems to have gone to your head, if you think you can take on the Lao Hu single-handed and win.”

  “I didn’t try to ‘take her on.’ I offered her what I thought were fair terms.”

  “Well,” he said, shifting to his back. “Clearly she disagreed.”

  I felt my jaw harden as I watched him settle his weight on the organic floor, his hand covering his face. But there wasn’t a lot I could say to his words.

  For a moment both of us just lay there, not speaking.

  “Wreg,” he said then. “Is he dead?”

  I shook my head, folding my arms tighter with a sigh. “No.”

  “You didn’t kill him on the plane?”

  “No.” I looked at him in bewilderment, angry again. “I didn’t kill anyone on the plane. Why would I? And why would I kill Wreg?”

  “How did you keep him from stopping you?”

  Clicking to myself in irritation, or maybe at him, I folded my hands over my ribs, still fighting the anger out of my voice.

  “I threw him. With the telekinesis. When that only slowed him down, I shot him in the leg.” When Revik didn’t speak into the silence, I shrugged with the same hand. “I had him cuff himself to one of the seats, then I used the same stuff on him I used on you.”

  There was another silence.

  “He was alive, Revik,” I said. “He wasn’t even in danger. I had him fixed up before we left him on the plane. They were all alive when I left.”

  Again, he didn’t answer.

  I felt him thinking as he lay there, even as another pulse of grief left his light.

  Remembering the Barrier images Vash shared with me in the aftermath of Voi Pai’s attack on the Rebel headquarters, I felt sick again, unable to tear my mind off of what she’d done––what I’
d helped her do. I hadn’t even told him about Nikka yet, but now I couldn’t help wondering if Balidor had, or someone else, maybe.

  I didn’t even want to admit it to myself.

  The idea of talking to him about it, especially if he had to hear it first from me, made me feel physically sick. I knew it was cowardice. I knew it probably wouldn’t make a difference at this point, in terms of how he viewed me, but I didn’t want to be the one to tell him, anyway.

  He was right. I’d been stupid to think I could trust Voi Pai.

  At the time, I told myself I didn’t have to trust her.

  I’d trusted Balidor, and he and Voi Pai seemed to have an understanding of their own. He told me she would honor their agreement, and I believed him.

  For all I knew, Balidor had been in on it with her, though. He certainly thought my approach towards the Rebels and their stockpile of weapons and planes in the mountains had been lenient, to say the least. He’d accused me of being naïve, too––and of being overly sentimental about a bunch of terrorists who happened to be “nice” when they weren’t out murdering people in the name of their gods and ancestors.

  The part that frustrated me most was that both of them were right, in a way.

  I fought back the pain that tried to rise, shaking my head at the ceiling.

  “You’re right,” was all I said.

  “About what?”

  “About everything,” I said.

  “Meaning what?”

  “It was stupid,” I said, biting my lip. “I was stupid. It doesn’t help either of us, knowing that. But I don’t want you to think I’m not hearing you. I am.”

  I felt another coil of his light, a faint whisper of confusion that tried to turn into anger and only halfway succeeded.

  “If it comforts you,” I added. “Pretty much everyone agrees with you. And not just the seers on your side. The Seven, too… and the Adhipan. They all think I’ve lost my fucking mind.”

  When feeling started to strengthen around him, I turned on my side, facing him directly.

  His eyes met mine immediately that time.

  I paused, watching him look at me, the running lights at the base of the far wall reflecting in his clear irises. I didn’t let myself read anything into his expression. I kept my voice toneless, leached of inflection.