I pushed past people in the halls as I made my way back to our room. I made eye contact with no one, all niceties gone. It didn’t matter. My hands flew over my few belongings, stuffing everything unceremoniously into my tattered bag. In my haste I dropped my father’s pocket watch and it bounced under the bed. Cursing, I dropped to my knees. As my fingertips searched, I came across something stuffed under the corner of the bed. I grabbed it, along with the familiar chain of my watch and yanked. My heart sputtered.
It was a small piece of paper with a child’s drawing on it. Three scribbled figures were smiling up at me. Mouse had drawn a picture of us. A little girl stood in the middle holding hands with a taller blonde girl and a tall sandy haired boy with hazel eyes. The word family was scrawled beneath it. My eyes burned.
“I assume you heard most of our conversation.”
I hadn’t heard him come in, but he was standing in the doorway watching me. His warm eyes waited as he leaned against the doorframe. I crumpled the drawing and shoved it into the backpack with my other things.
“Please don’t leave.” He whispered. My heart ripped as I kept my back to him. “I should have told you sooner that Arstid was my mother, but I didn’t want you to see me as nothing more than her son. Besides, she stopped being my mother years ago. I don’t agree with her about any of it. She’s wrong.”
I shook my head.
“She’s right. I am a danger to all of you. I’m not good at working with others, you said it yourself. I’m not loyal to anyone.” I kept putting things in my bag, ignoring the pain growing in my chest. I turned to leave and ran into his chest.
“Move.” I said staring at his shoulder.
“No.”
“Move.”
“No.”
I could feel the rage building in me. Why was he being so stubborn? Why couldn’t he see how wrong I was for him? For everyone here? They would all be better off without me, even Mouse. I wanted them. I knew that now. I wanted people to love me. The drawing crumpled in my bag proved that. I wanted them, but I didn’t need them.
“I don’t need you, you know. Despite what you said to Arstid I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone.” I hoped the words would sting, that he would finally feel hurt and let me go. Last night had been a mistake. I had let him get too close. I stepped to the side but he moved with me.
“I know, Prea.” He whispered my name and I froze, teetering on my thin emotional ledge. “I know that you don’t need me, but I need you. Despite what Arstid says we need you.”
My shoulders began to sag and he pressed on, taking advantage of my weakness. “You are strong and fearless and the kind of person we need on our side. If you won’t stay for me, then stay for her. Mouse will be lost without you. She needs you. Without you she is just another child abandoned in Tartarus.”
That was a low blow.
I pressed my head to his shoulder. I wanted to stay. I should leave. I wanted Mouse to be safe, to have the life I didn’t. I didn’t want her to be like me, but I didn’t want to abandon her like my parents had done to me.
“For her.” I said closing my eyes as I let Triven take the bag from my shoulder.
I PRESSED MY fingers to my temples. My head was pounding as the voices blurred around me. We had spent another day trapped in the meeting room listening to the council members squabble with one another. Since the botched acquisition mission, faith in Arstid’s leadership seemed to falter. Odder still, people were starting to listen to me. A plan had been set in motion before I joined their little assembly, but without a way into The Sanctuary it had come to a screeching halt. To most of the council involved, it felt like a setback, but to me it seemed like an opportunity.
The Subversive had spent the last six years recruiting fallen Tribesman and training them. They now knew the inside workings of every Tribe, every Tribe but one. The one I wanted to see fall more than any other. The one I seemed to know the most about. Who knew all of my vengeful thieving would actually yield something other than vindictive gratification.
There was no question now that the Ravagers had a link to The Sanctuary. The question now was were they merely stealing or was The Sanctuary supporting them? Those hot-headed members like Archer and Maddox needed no further proof than the weapons we discovered and wanted to launch a blind attack on the Ravagers. They felt the best way to wage a war was to pull the trigger first. Others, like Veyron and Willets, reverted back to their Adroit roots and sought more information before wanting to get their hands dirty. They felt a war was best started with knowledge and a strategy. The resulting disagreement was what made my head hurt.
Everyone’s head swiveled to me. Someone had just asked me a question, but I wasn’t listening.
“What do you think?” Arden raised his eyebrows, awaiting my answer. Instead of admitting my inattention, I spoke the thoughts running through my own mind.
“Bickering about this isn’t getting us anywhere. We don’t have enough information to act but we can’t just sit around waiting for something to happen. The Ravagers may be Id-driven monsters, but they are not fools. They must know we are moving against them now. It’s not just them either. Something in the city is changing. All of the Tribes have become restless. That attack the other night in the alley was no coincidence. You are not as invisible as you used to be. The Tribes know you’re here and they won’t let you slip by unscathed. You are a band of deserters and miscreants to them. If you think you have seen their wrath, you haven’t seen anything yet. If they catch up to you, pray you are killed and not captured.
“With that said, I think we need to split off into small groups, bring less attention to ourselves. There’s safety in numbers, but not when you are trying to keep a low profile. Teams of two or three need to start scouting the city, watching the Tribes’ movements. I have a few allies outside of the Tribes that I can call on. The time has come to take action. I have safe houses located throughout the city that are conveniently located near the Tribes’ dens. I suggest we use them.”
“You mean stay out there?” Willets looked at me with blatant disbelief.
“Yes. Hiding in here will yield you nothing. If you want a revolution then you need to start acting like soldiers. Thieving weapons will only get you so far. It’s time you started using them or the Tribes will continue to pick us off one by one. You need to start not only fighting back, but also picking the fights. The key is turning them against each other. Tensions between the Tribes are already at a breaking point, we just need to give them the final push.”
Archer perked up. “You mean setting up other Tribes for our attacks?”
“No one knows better than you how the Wraiths fight, who better to falsify one of their attacks than a former Tribesman?”
“I won’t murder people. I am not like them.” Archer bristled.
“I’m not asking you to murder anyone. I am saying destroy some food supplies, burn a few vacant meeting locations, and leave marks on claimed territories. It doesn’t take a death to frame another Tribe.”
“And while the Tribes war with one another, the Ravagers will be easier to infiltrate.” Triven followed my train of thought.
“Exactly.” I nodded at him.
A murmur of appreciation filtered through the room. Only Arstid remained frozen as she avoided my eyes. I could hear the plans begin to emerge as they spoke. Old Tribesmen leaned into one another, comparing their thoughts. The few survivors from The Sanctuary looked slightly lost as their counterparts interacted.
“All those in favor?” Triven’s voice carried over the din.
“Aye!” Over half of the room shouted in unison.
We had a plan.
MOUSE’S EYES BLURRED with tears, but she didn’t let a single one fall. Triven and I had packed for four days. Several of our elected groups were already spread throughout the city, wreaking havoc on the tainted citizens of Tartarus. Our plan was working. Tribes were beginning to attack each other. And with my knowledge of the Ravagers, many
of the Tribe wars were effectively blamed on them. It seemed an uprising was indeed brewing and it smelled like revolution. The other members of The Subversive had done their part, now it was our turn.
Triven and I were to gather information. I had a few allies in the outside world that could prove useful. There was one in particular I needed to speak to, but trust was not something you could earn from him. In my pack I carried three titanium knives, a heat-seeking gun and a motion-sensor bomb. They were most of what the ambushed recon party had stolen from the Ravagers. They seemed heavy in my pack. Their weight was a constant reminder that I had not confided their presence to Triven. Mouse’s drawing was also stuffed in my bag as a reminder to come back. It bothered me that such a sweet drawing was currently pressed against a lethal bomb. That alone was a sick reminder why I was doing this.
Mouse held my hand as we moved towards one of the escape hatches. She knew we would be gone for a few days and I could see the fear in her eyes that she understood we might not come back. To be honest, that thought scared me too. As I glanced down at the orphaned child holding my hand, it still shocked me how much she had changed my life. When we reached the door I crouched down to her level, taking her hands in mine.
“We will be back in a few days.”
She nodded, her eyes welling with tears again. She stuck out her first two fingers on each hand and moved her fists together in a circular motion. She was telling me something in sign language. I felt horrible for not having studied that book harder.
Triven came to my rescue, squatting down beside us. “We will, you be careful too. Listen to Veyron, okay?”
“And don’t let Maribel get you into any trouble.” I added, thinking of her boisterous friend.
Mouse threw her arms around my neck and squeezed tightly. I clutched her in return, my tiny lifeline. I swallowed hard as she hugged Triven and took Veyron’s hand.
“Take care of her.” I didn’t mean for it to sound like a threat, but it did. Okay, maybe I meant it just a little.
Mouse’s brave face tore at me more than her tears. She was strong, like me, but I hated it. She should be playing happily with her friends, not worrying that two people she loved might die. I turned and headed for the door before her tears could trigger my own.
The night air felt stale when we reached the rooftop. I turned my face toward the grey-green sky, willing it to wash away all of the worry and guilt weighing me down. If I wanted to survive the next four days I needed a clear mind. I could feel Triven close behind me, careful as always not to touch me unless I initiated it. I wanted to lean back to feel his chest pressed to my back, warm and sturdy, but I didn’t. Clear head I reminded myself.
“Where are we going first?” Triven asked.
“To see The Master.” I turned to face him. “I need you to keep up with me. It’s imperative you don’t ask questions and don’t fall behind. When we get there… he is a little… unorthodox. He will try to kill us, especially you. He is not kind to those he doesn’t know. Protect yourself, I can handle my own. Whatever you do, don’t kill him.”
If Triven was worried he didn’t show it.
I turned my back on him and gave him one last warning. “Don’t let him kill you either.”
I never had to look back to see if Triven was following me or not. His feet were as silent as mine, but I could feel him. Our other counterparts had done their jobs. Unlike most nights, the city wasn’t quiet. Pillars of swirling smoke rose in various sectors and random gunfire could be heard echoing through the streets. Tartarus was at war again and this time it was our hands that fired first. The Subversive was still unseen, but we were no longer hiding.
My feet slowed as we reached The Master’s hideout. He had taken over a huge old building that had some kind of vault in its basement. I had seen it once when I was younger. The door was nearly a foot thick with three-inch thick bars that protruded out of it when engaged by a wheel on the front. Mostly I remember the sound— it was so final when that door shut. Like it would never open again. This was the room I hoped to see today. Inside was a collection of weapons and gadgets that could rival the Ravagers. I was pretty sure there was also something more valuable there. Maps. Maps of the city before The Devastation, which were supposedly lost. As well as maps of The Sanctuary, which were worth more than my weight in weapons. I vaguely remembered them on the wall, hidden behind plated glass. I only hoped my memory was not playing tricks on me.
I could see his building three roofs ahead of ours. Surely he knew of our presence already. Now it was just waiting for him to make the first move. I felt the ground beneath us shake as something exploded a few miles away, a new plume of smoke rising. Triven hesitated behind me. I hissed though my teeth to keep him moving.
My ears registered the sound before my other senses could. I dropped and kicked Triven’s feet out from beneath him. The knife barely nicked his left ear as he went down. No sooner had his back hit the ground, he was rolling onto his feet again. Three more knives pierced the night, one narrowly missing my head and two others imbedding themselves into my backpack as I twisted away. I dropped the bag— its weight making me feel unbalanced— as my hands moved to my weapons.
I barely had my knife out of its holster before his first blow landed. Something reminiscent of a foot struck my chest forcing the air from me. My body recoiled backwards as my feet flipped upwards. Tucking with the momentum, I rolled back over my shoulder into a crouch. I could hear more collisions of flesh, like meat hitting meat. Triven was now engaging him. A body flew past mine, grunting as it hit the tar, and I sprang back into the fight.
I had forgotten how fast The Master moved. How hard it was to follow, to predict him, but I held my ground. Blood was trickling down my nose, the coppery taste catching on my lips. There was an opening as his left hand moved for another knife. With a quick thrust I smashed my fist into his exposed nose. It crunched beneath my hand. As I drew back something hard collided with the side of my head causing my left eye to go black. When I blinked again my face was against the rooftop. Feet were dancing in and out of my sightline and it took me a minute to remember who they belonged to. I forced my feet back into submission underneath me and rose unsteadily.
Triven was on the ground now, a taller and leaner man sitting astride his half-conscious body. The knife pressed into his throat was trailing a thin line of blood as The Master pushed against Triven’s restraining hands. Triven was managing to keep the blade from sinking in deeper, but just barely.
I pressed my gun to the back of The Master’s unruly, shaggy dark head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”
“No fair bringing a gun to a knife fight.” His strange accent was still thick even after all these years.
“Weren’t you the one who taught me only a fool brings just knives.” I kept the barrel pressed to his skull, my finger on the trigger.
He laughed as he retracted the blade from Triven’s throat. “Glad to see something got into that thick skull of yours.”
He rose to his feet, his dark eyes studying me as he stepped back from Triven’s body.
Keeping my gun on him, I reached out to help pull Triven to his feet.
“Weapons.” I nodded at the ground.
With a rye smile the tall man began to unload an impressive amount of weaponry from his body. Once the metallic clanking stopped and his pockets appeared empty he began to walk away. I nodded at Triven to pick up a few of the knives, and with my gun still aimed between his shoulder blades, we followed The Master to his lair.
WE SHADOWED THE Master over the next two rooftops. I had never accessed his building the same way twice. Every time I had entered through an access, it would be thoroughly sealed off by my next visit. Our encounter with The Master had not been as bad as I had expected— a few bumps and bruises, maybe a broken finger. The first time I met him he knocked me out cold for the better part of the day. He said the only reason he didn’t kill me was because I was a kid and I could be good trading leverage to a
Tribe. When I offered him a long-term agreement of exchanging food, weapons and books for his training he knocked me out again while he thought about it. Apparently my first two lessons were how to take a hit. I was twelve.
We went in through an abandoned elevator shaft this time. The Master jumped carelessly into the shaft, zipping downward at an alarming speed. He didn’t care if we followed or not. If we were too scared, he wouldn’t have to deal with us. If we fell to our deaths, no one would ever have to deal with us again.
I made sure Triven watched closely as I wound my legs around the cables and gripped tightly with both hands. His eyes flickered for just a moment as I slid down the shaft into the darkness. I could feel him climb on above me as the cables whizzed beneath the soles of my boots. It seemed to take forever, the friction beginning to burn even my callused hands. I feared a body would come rushing past me, that Triven would lose his grip. But he held on. The Master waited until both our feet met the bottom of the shaft, then he moved onward. We moved silently in the dark. It had only been minutes, but it felt much longer, the darkness devouring the time. I jumped when light filled the hallway. Repressing the urge to shield my eyes, I followed The Master’s outline through the door.
Everything was as I remembered it. There were no windows, only concrete walls adorned with elaborate pillars. There was still a makeshift mat in the center where he had taught me to fight. Old bloodstains still soiled the surface, some of them undoubtedly mine. The polished stone floors were littered with junk. Boxes were stacked here and there, along with random books and bundled paper. Tiny bands grouped the stacks of paper with numbers on them, each group imprinted with a man’s face I didn’t recognize. Whatever they once were, The Master now used them as kindling. I watched as he tossed two bundles into his dying fire. In the light I could see him better. He had aged since I last traded with him. It had been nearly two years. His dark hair was now peppered with grey. As always he was a handsome man, with honey skin and full lips. His almond-shaped eyes were bright and intrusive as he watched us enter. I stopped just inside the room, Triven stopping with me.
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