by Rachel West
“Evie,” Jaxon calls me over, “See if you can find the Praetors weapon room. We will need everything we can get. Ezzor, go with her.”
I startle as Ezzor is suddenly behind me. “My lady,” Ezzor drawls. I blush and refuse to meet his eyes. I am the farthest thing from a lady right now. Covered in blood and the scent of smoke. Clothing inside out and two sizes too big.
“Let’s go,” I mumble. We move through a long hallway with doors branching off to each side. Bright fluorescent light flickers overhead, one of the bulbs nearing the end of its lifespan. Ezzor takes one side and I the other, opening each door as we pass. Bathroom. Cafeteria. Office after office.
“Maybe the basement?” I say.
Ezzor grunts in response but still checks every door along the way to the stairwell. When we reach the stairs I pause. The dim lighting makes everything feel suddenly dangerous again. I thought my fear was all used up for the day but the cold rush of adrenaline that sets my nerves on fire says otherwise. I swallow hard, “Up or down?” I ask calmly. I will not show weakness to Ezzor. I will not let him use it against me.
Ezzor looks at me and I swear he can taste the terror that rises from my skin. Laughter, or something close to it, churns in his eyes like a storm. “Down,” he drawls, “didn’t you moments ago suggest they would be in the basement?”
“Well, yeah,” I mumble. Jaxon can get my tongue-tied every now and again. But Ezzor? It’s like he’s ripping my tongue out and twisting it into knots. “Yes,” I repeat, stronger this time. There, that’s better.
“Lead the way,” he gestures elaborately towards the stairs and I get the feeling he is mocking me.
The bottom of the stairs opens up into a single, wide room. The Praetor’s must have used it for training; the center of the room is full of black and blue mats and hanging bags. There is some kind of giant cage along the back wall but it’s too far away to see what’s within. Along the wall closest to us is a string of heavy, secured metal doors. If I was protecting weapons, I would keep them locked behind doors like that.
I make my way to the first door. A small window allows for a view within but I have to stand on my toes to see through. The room beyond is dark. I pull at the door but it’s locked. “Hmm,” I murmur. Ezzor slaps his hand against the wall. I jump at the sound and turn a glare on him.
“Light panel,” he says slowly.
I shake my head and inch back to the door. There is somethi---
“Shit!” I scream and go tumbling backwards. Ezzor tries to catch me but he’s not quick enough. I land hard on my backside but the pain doesn’t even register. “Shit,” I say again, quieter this time.
Ezzor is momentarily frozen by my outburst, as if he doesn’t quite know the proper way to respond. He makes a movement towards me, to help I think, then stops mid-motion and turns to the door.
“Oh,” a soft sound of surprise escapes his lips.
I pull myself up and inch slowly to the door. When I peer through the small window this time the automaton is looking back at me.
“I’ve never seen one before,” Ezzor says. He sounds enthralled, like a child opening gifts on his birthday morning.
“I have.” The one we saw in the forest looked different through. This one is smaller. More of its body is made from metal. And the metal looks new - sheer and black like dark obsidian with streaks of silver and white at the joints. It looks like murder wrapped into a pretty little package.
The automaton glares up at us through the small window. Its mouth opens in what must be a roar but no sound penetrates through the door. I shudder as the light reflects of gleaming, dagger like teeth.
“Come on,” I try to get Ezzor’s attention. “We don’t have time for this.” I don’t want to be near this creature. It brings back the darkly terrifying moments in the forest when I was sure my life was at its end.
“Yes,” Ezzor says and takes a smooth step back. He brushes lightly at the sleeves of his cowl, as if clearing away bits of dust.
I turn away, hesitant to have my back to the automaton but left with no other choice. Ezzor moves slowly as if lingering in some pleasure he can’t pull away from.
Why is there an automaton here? It makes no sense. It’s not like this is some scientific lab where they pulled in the old species from beyond the wall for study. No, I shake my head, this automaton was new. It wasn’t one of the old, decrepit creatures from three hundred years ago. And the Praetors had it as what, a weapon? A pet?
I turn my thoughts away from whatever path they were leading down. Now is not the time to worry about the automaton. I’ll bring it up to Jaxon later, when there’s time to rest, time to think. Right now we need to focus on finding where the weapons are kept.
Ezzor and I move along the outer edges of the basement, keeping a hands breadth from the wall and carefully peering into every door before we open it.
As we reach the back wall I am finally able to see what is within the cage.. “There,” I point out the weapons cage to Ezzor. Metal chain-link encloses hundreds of weapons. A whole cache of synthblades. Guns like I’ve never seen before. Batons and a couple of small knives that look like they don’t belong. Along the left side hangs spider-silk Praetor uniforms all in a neat row.
I pull at the chain-link door. The metal rings loudly, echoing through the dim basement.
“Locked,” Ezzor states the obvious.
I fiddle with the small number-pad attached to the door. Locked with some kind of pass-key. “Any ideas?” I turn to Ezzor.
He already has a synthblade in hand. In one smooth motion he brings it down against the metal. Blue and red sparks fly. I close my eyes against the assault and bring up my arms to cover my face.
“Some warning would have been nice,” I snap. I blink heavily, but spots of darkness dance in my vision.
“One should always be prepared for anything.”
Part of me wants to slap him for surprising me like that, but the more rational side convinces me that’s a bad idea. His synthblade did some damage -- maybe not as much as expected. Not enough room for a person to get through. I turn my back as he lifts his arm again -- prepared this time.
The screech of metal on metal echoes through the entire basement and fills my ears until there is nothing else. “Well, if there are any Praetors left they’ll know exactly where to find us,” I joke and it almost comes out sounding normal.
Ezzor shrugs lightly but he looks excited by the thought. Hasn’t he had enough death today? “Go on in,” he peels part of the fence back. There is just enough room for someone my size to fit through. I scowl at him but can’t argue. It makes sense. “Synthblades first.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter. I struggle with the large metal container that holds the synthblades. There are at least two dozen of them, maybe three. I gather the weapons two-by-two and pass them out to Ezzor who piles them at his feet.
“We need more help,” I say as our stockpile grows larger. Too large for the two of us to carry. “Go get some more people.”
Ezzor looks torn for a moment. He stares at the pile of weapons then brings his eyes up to my own. With a slight shake of his head he says, “Come out of there. We’ll bring what we have up.”
“We can’t just leave the rest of these,” I argue. Secretly I am relieved. I didn’t want to stay down here alone. What if a Praetor showed up? What if the automaton somehow escaped its prison?
“We’ll come back,” he says.
I quickly gather the rest of the synthblades. Before crawling out I yank down the Praetor uniforms. On a small table next to them is box of gloves made from the same material. I shove as many of those as I can into my pockets until they bulge out comically around my hips.
“Hurry,” Ezzor says and he looks nervous as if he can sense some change in the air. I nod and crawl through the small gap. I lay out two of the uniforms and make a temporary satchel, piling synthblades and spare uniforms so tightly it’s almost too heavy to carry. Ezzor takes one and I grab the other. I loo
k regretfully at the couple of synthblades that wouldn’t fit. We’ll be back, I remind myself. And with more people so we can clean the place out.
When we get back to the main floor, our arms laden with our heavy satchels, there is nothing but silence. Ezzor shoots a sidelong glance at me, one brow raised in question. Back up here the burn of gunfire still lingers in the air. The smell of blood clings to every surface. Where is everyone? Why is it so quiet?
Running footsteps are our only warning. Red shoots around the corner. His brows rise nearly to his hairline with shock when he sees us standing there.
“Good. There you are. We gotta go. Now,” he speaks rapidly between panted breaths.
“Now?” I echo back as if I don’t quite understand.
“Come on,” he shouts and pulls at my elbow. He leads me to the back entryway. Probably the same door he and Ezzor snuck through hours earlier. “Kalia’s runners were watching the street. We just received word. Praetors coming. A whole contingent of them. Five-hundred strong.”
CHAPTER 16
We escape the Praetors, but just barely. As we flee from the barracks I hear the heavy stomping of their boots as they make their way down the street. As I run the makeshift bag beats against my chest with every step.
Red leads us down alleyway after alleyway. Soon my breath burns through my lungs. I am exhausted. Not tired, not worn out, but completely exhausted. The day has passed in a haze of battle and death. The terror and adrenaline has worn my body down. With each steps my legs fight against me and I struggle to stay upright.
I want to stop. I want to sit down and just have one goddamn moment to catch my breath. But there is no time. And if I stop, we could all die so instead I keep running.
Red pauses at the entrance to a small alley but I am too focused on staying upright that I am three steps past him before I realize.
“Evie,” Red calls out softly. Another voice echoes my name.
“Jaxon?” I look around.
“Hey,” Jaxon smiles at me. The relief on his face is so apparent that it makes me feel guilty. I hadn’t thought of him the whole time we ran. All I cared about was escaping with my safety intact. Jaxon must have seen something on my face because his grin falters. “Evie?” he repeats my name again, a question this time.
I shake my head lightly. My hair clings to my face as I do. Without thinking I drop the bag of weapons and tuck the loose strands of my hair behind my eyes. My hand comes away sticky and wet. Blood. Sweat. God, I need a shower.
“Where’s everyone else?” I ask, not sure if I care, but willing to say anything to prolong our short break.
“On their way back to the Hollows,” Jaxon says.
“No time to rest,” Ezzor interrupts, “keep moving.”
I move to pick up the bag at my feet but Red snatches it up before I do. “I got this,” he smiles through his exhaustion.
Slower now, we make our way back to the Hollows. We come to an old, abandoned greenhouse that marks one of the hidden entrances to the Hollows. Kalia waits at the doorway, peering anxiously out into the dark night. The moment she spots us her face transforms from worry to pleasure.
“Evie, you’re okay!” Kalia jumps up and throws her arms around me, holding me in an embrace so tight it’s like she will never let go. When she pulls back she keeps her face near mine. Her grin is so wide and bright that I can’t help but smile back. She stares for a moment longer then her face crinkles up. “You need a bath.”
I laugh unable to stop the loud, ungainly sound that escapes from my throat. I bend nearly in half and wrap my arms around my stomach, trying to hold in the laughter I can’t stop. I’m hysterical, I know that I am but I can’t control it. Somehow the laughter turns into tears but it happens so suddenly that I don’t notice the transition.
I drop to my knees. Sobs mixed with the occasional laugh. Everything around me disappears. Tears burn their way down my cheeks. Running against my nose and dripping against my lips.
“Evie?” someone asks questioningly. Whoever spoke drops down next to me and hesitantly wraps their arms around my shoulders. It could be Jaxon or Red or goddamn Ezzor for all I cared. I curl myself into the embrace. Hiding my face in the folds of soft clothing.
Warm hands run their fingers lightly through my hair and I am reminded of my mother. Gods, I miss her. And my father. And my stupid little sister - who even though she is here, mostly seems like she isn’t. I rock back and forth in the arms that hold me. Crying from relief and fear and a little desperation. I’m alive, I repeat over and over in my head. I am alive but so many others died and at the thought another sob bursts forth.
I remember the bodies. And the sound of guns. And the fear. And how stupidly useless I was.
It takes a long time before I stop crying. I pull myself from the embrace as I get myself under control. My breathing comes in uneven little hiccups but it’s enough.
Jaxon. It was Jaxon who held me as I made a fool of myself. He presses his thumb against my cheek, wiping away the last of my tears. I flinch away, embarrassed that he saw me like this. Embarrassed that anyone saw me like this.
Kalia stares at me. Her eyes are wide and welling with their own tears. I smile shakily at her and she returns the look with a dip of her head.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
“It’s fine.” Red is the one who answers. All three of them stare at me like I’m half mad and about to bolt.
“Sorry,” I repeat again because I don’t know what else to say.
“I think it’s time we all got cleaned up,” Red breaks the awkwardness that hangs in the air. “And get some sleep.”
I nod, too tired to speak again. Kalia leads the way back through the Hollows. The entrance is through a small grate in the center of the greenhouse.
Word must have spread forward before us. As we make our way through the back tunnels of the Hollows we gather a train of people shouting and shoving for our attention.
“Back off!” Kalia snaps at a man who gets too close and lifts an arm reverently towards Jaxon. When we reach the atrium the room is full nearly to bursting. Vertigo waits at the front of the crowd, an inexplicable expression on his face.
There are some cheers. Scattered clapping. But most stare at us if they can’t quite believe that we are here.
“Is it true?” Someone shouts, their words barely audible over the crowd. “Did you attack the Praetors?”
“Gentlemen,” Vertigo steps forward, then nods at me and Kalia, “Ladies.” Kalia pulls a face at the belated acknowledgment. “Please,” Vertigo speaks over the crowd, his deep voice carries through the room, “Let them through.” He smiles out at them like a benevolent priest.
The crowd responds as one used to obeying his commands. They part, leaving a nearly straight path for us. Vertigo walks with us, the smile never leaving his face. But when he speaks it is too quiet for the others to hear, gentle but with anger thrumming underneath, “Come to me first thing in the morning,” he orders Jaxon.
Jaxon’s head tilts, half surprise, half confusion, as if he can’t quite believe this man is giving him any orders. “Of course,” Jaxon responds graciously, “We need to tell you of our accomplishments.” His words are an insult, making it clear that Vertigo had no part in what we won today.
“Perfect,” Vertigo responds. The two are like spitting, territorial cats. Hackles raised and ready to strike at any moment. I wish they would fight it out and get it over with so I could crawl into bed and go to sleep.
I tug lightly at Jaxon’s sleeve, drawing his attention. With my eyes I beg him to let it go for now. He understands, or at least sees something close, because the tenseness in his shoulders relaxes, the stiff line of his lip softens.
“Come on,” he says as he swings one arm over my back. I lean into his grip, the warmth and comfort of his arms enough to keep me going for a little while longer. Vertigo’s eyes dart between us and a smile twitches on his face like he’s just discovered a hidden vein of gold. I frown at him, but
I’m too tired for anything more.
When we arrive at the hallway in front of our rooms, Jaxon leans slightly forward and whispers in my ear. “Come back to my room later?” The words half question, half demand. I nod against his shoulder. He drops his arm from back and I immediately miss the comfort of his touch. “See you soon,” he says and nudges me towards my door.
Red, who stood there watching the exchange, grimaces at us. I stick my tongue out at him and it’s enough to elicit a light laugh. I smile back and head to my room.
“Red,” Jaxon calls out.
I pause, pressing my back against the wall, and watch the two of them. What does Jaxon want with Red?
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For everything you did today. Without you our attack would have ended in massacre,” Jaxon says seriously.
Red stares at him for a moment, rolling back slightly on his heels. I can see him searching for a response as the silence stretches out. “No problem,” Red says, and he looks surprised at his own words. A smile touches his lips, and if it was anyone but Red, I’d say he was embarrassed.
Jaxon bows his head to Red in a gesture of acknowledgement. Red pauses for a moment, then mirrors the motion. And... That’s it? The end of the exchange. Both men split and enter into their own rooms. I shake my own head, there are some things I will never understand. I push open the door to my room, leaving the empty hallway behind.
“You’re back,” Annie says softly from the bed. She sits cross-legged over the sheets, a small book in her lap.
“Annie,” I am surprised to see her. I shake my head lightly, of course she would be here. “Yeah, I’m back.” I drop the Praetors uniform to the ground.
“What are you doing with…that?”
I glance down at the black and red of the uniform. Of course she would recognize it. Like all of us, she’s spent her entire life in fear of seeing this same uniform. “Uhm,” I mumble inarticulately, “there was a battle and…” I trail off, unsure if she honestly even wants an explanation.