The Lost City: The Palumbra Chronicles: Book Two

by L. D. Fairchild

  "Why would we do that? And why would we trust you to keep your word?"

  "Because you have no other choice, Maeve." She motioned down the tunnel. "If you take one step down that tunnel, my guards will shoot you and your friends. There's nowhere to hide." She wiggled her fingers. "So, come on, now, hand it over."

  "Where's Thomas?"

  Arabella stretched her lips into a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Oh, don't you worry about him. He's somewhere safe. I have big plans for him." Her smile got wider. "He's my own flesh and blood, you know. I'll take good care of him."

  Maeve sucked in a breath of surprise, and her eyes widened at Arabella's statement. She felt Gray startle beside her.

  "What do you mean your own flesh and blood?"

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  "You should have done your homework, Maeve. He's my sister's son." She schooled her face into a false impression of sorrow. "Unfortunately, she died fighting for The Resistance. My brother was raising him, but I think it's my turn now. I do so need an heir to mold into the next ruler of Palumbra since Elton was such a huge disappointment."

  Maeve never took her eyes off Arabella.

  "Enough chit chat." Arabella snapped her fingers impatiently. "Hand over the venom."

  Maeve started to move forward, but Gray's hand on her arm stopped her. "Again, why would I do that?"

  "Shoot the tall one."

  Maeve was never sure exactly what happened next. With a mighty heave, Gray thrust her behind his back and pushed her down the tunnel away from Arabella. She hit the ground knees first and scrambled to her feet as Gray propelled her forward. Bullets bit into the dirt walls and ground around them, and Gray turned periodically to fire back. "Stay low, and move," he yelled. "Don't look back."

  Maeve's heart pounded, and she could feel every muscle as her feet hit the floor in a full-out sprint. Ignoring Gray's order, she glanced over her shoulder just in time to see Elton fall to the ground, blood blooming from his chest. Maeve hadn't even known he came back. His eyes met hers for a split second, and she imagined she saw peace in them before he sprawled face down in the dirt. She looked for Private Thompson and found his motionless body on the ground just feet from where Elton had fallen. She wanted to stop. Her chest hurt, not just from the running but for the sacrifice that had just been made. Her face was wet, but she didn't remember crying. Gray tugged on her arm as they rounded a corner of the tunnel, silencing the barrage of bullets for a moment. She tried to stop, but Gray was relentless.

  "Keep moving, Maeve. We have to lose them and get back to the city."

  She kept her feet moving through a sheer act of will. Her heart felt heavy in her chest. "Why? Why did you let them do it?" Her words came out choppy as she gasped for enough breath to move, speak and mourn.

  "I didn't know, Maeve. I didn't." Gray turned them down another tunnel. "I heard whispering, but I didn't know Elton had returned. I thought he took off." He glanced down at her, his face drawn and his eyes filled with sorrow. "Private Thompson shoved me out of the way and yelled at me to run at the same time that Elton charged Arabella."

  "Why didn't you fight?"

  "I couldn't, Maeve." They came to a fork in the tunnels, and Gray didn't break stride as he chose the left branch. "We were sitting ducks in that tunnel. I had to get you away. If one of us doesn't make it back to Palumbra, then Emma, and probably Ginger, will die."

  "So, we sacrificed two other lives?"

  "We didn't do it Maeve." Gray's voice was quiet, reverent. "They did. All we can do is decide what to do with the chance they gave us."

  Neither spoke again, but tears continued to roll down Maeve's cheeks until they reached a wide spot in the tunnel where a wooden ladder was dug into the dirt wall.

  "This is our exit." Gray pointed up to a circular opening in the tunnel ceiling. "You first. Wait for me at the top before you remove the cover."

  ###

  Maeve stood in the shadow of a brick building in the center of Palumbra. For a city that had just begun to rebuild from the revolution, the sight was disheartening. Piles of rubble lined the sidewalks where bricks and wood from the storefronts had been demolished in the new fighting. The street itself was pockmarked where bullets had dug up the street. It was eerily quiet. Besides Gray, Maeve saw no one out on the streets. In the distance she could hear sporadic gunfire, but it seemed the bulk of the fighting was over.

  "This way." Gray took her hand and began to jog toward the government building at the heart of the city. Its shiny glass surface towered over the rest of the buildings in Palumbra, but as they neared, Maeve could see that the first few floors had taken a beating from the fighting. Much of the first-floor glass lay shattered, and burn marks showed near the doors. As they approached, a Palumbra soldier stepped forward and pointed his gun at Gray.

  "Identify yourself."

  Gray dropped Maeve's hand and slowly raised his own. Maeve followed suit.

  "Gray Cantwell." He tipped his head toward Maeve. "This is Maeve Jackson. I'm a soldier, and she's a nurse. We have something that Cleo wants."

  The soldier pulled a communicator from his belt and said something Maeve couldn't hear.

  "Got any ID?"

  Gray rolled his eyes at the soldier. "Do we look like we're just out for a stroll?" Maeve hadn't paid much attention to their appearance until Gray made that comment. She took in his torn shirt, muddy pants and dirt-smudged face. She hadn't fared much better. The elbow of her shirt was ripped, her pants were covered in mud and dust and plagoran saliva, and she was sure her face was as dirty as Gray's.

  "Tell Cleo we're here," Gray said. "She knows us."

  The soldier spoke into his communicator again then lowered his gun and motioned for them to follow. They entered the building, and Maeve noted the destruction inside. What had once been the reception desk was tipped on its side and split down the middle. Glass, concrete and paper were strewn across the entryway. Debris crunched under their feet as they made their way to the stairs. They climbed to the third floor where the damage was less noticeable, a chunk of wall missing in a few places or the occasional hole in the ceiling or floor. They reached a double wooden door, and the soldier knocked twice. Maeve heard Cleo's voice call out, "Bring them in."

  The soldier pushed the door open, and Maeve and Gray entered a large conference room. Cleo stood alone at the window on the other side of the room, staring out. Maeve could see smoke rising in the distance. Without turning, Cleo said, "Join me, and tell me what you see."

  Maeve and Gray walked over to the window and flanked Cleo. From this vantage point, they could see the Palumbra troops driving back the meager forces Arabella had brought, thinking the people of Palumbra would be too sick to fight.

  "It looks like we're winning," Maeve said, then immediately wanted to pull the words back into her mouth. Was it winning when people were dying?

  "They're not fighting," Gray said. "At least not very hard."

  Cleo nodded. "You're right. I don't know if it's a trick or if they really are done fighting. We've cut off their escape back to The Hub, and we've offered to accept the surrender of those who no longer want to fight. I don't know where they're going."

  "I'm sure Arabella has a back-up plan," Maeve said.

  Cleo nodded and turned to face them.

  "You two look like you've had a time of it. Did you get what we need?"

  Maeve nodded, dug in her pack and pulled out the plagoran venom. "It should be enough for the antidote to save Emma."

  Cleo took the venom then closed her eyes for the space of two heartbeats. When she opened them, the sorrow they reflected shattered Maeve's world.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Maeve clutched her stomach and fell to her knees, her head bowed as she gulped for air. She had suffered so much and worked too hard for this to be how it ended. She felt Gray's hand grip her arm and pull her into the embrace of his muscular arms. She laid her head on his chest and waited for Cleo to speak. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe Cleo
wasn't about to tell her the worst news.

  "I'm sorry, Maeve." Cleo's quiet voice caught on the last word. "Emma died this morning. She wasn't alone; John was with her. It was peaceful."

  Maeve wanted to cry. She did. She wanted to let out a wail of misery and mourning, but the pain was too deep, the wound too new. Her eyes refused to fill with tears. Her mouth refused to release a sound. But her heart did not refuse to break, and an all-consuming emptiness filled her, the knowledge that one of the few people in the world that knew her and loved her was gone. The emptiness became an ache. She hurt. It was as if her body was being ripped in two by the pain.

  She knew Gray was rubbing her arms and speaking, but her ears could not make out the words. He spoke to Cleo over her head. Whatever he said had Cleo rushing out of the room, but Maeve was numb to it all. Emma was gone. Emma had been her rock, her source of wisdom, the grandmother she never had, and one of the few people in the world that she trusted completely. When her parents had betrayed her to the WG, their relationship had broken, perhaps irreparably so, but Emma had stepped into the gap and become the parent she needed. What would she do without her?

  Gray leaned down so his eyes were level with hers. He continued to rub her arms in warm, even strokes. "Maeve, I know how it feels." Maeve blinked as she took in his words. "When Night died, the pain was unbearable − even more so because we thought he had betrayed us." Maeve blinked again and remembered how she had comforted Gray in the weeks after his uncle's death, which left him without any family. "It's going to hurt." Gray shook his head. "The pain may never go away completely, but it will get better. You'll figure out how to live without her."

  Maeve shook her head in denial. Gray pulled her back into his chest and wrapped his arms around her. She felt him kiss the top of her head. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but you will. And you'll go on to live a life Emma would have been proud of. Because that's how you honor her."

  Maeve pulled back from Gray and looked up into his face, wondering whether she dared to voice the words that had been floating in her head since Cleo delivered the life-changing blow. "But it's my fault she's dead."

  Gray started to protest, but Maeve stopped him. She had to speak the words.

  "She got the virus from me. If I had just refused to come back to Palumbra. If I had just stopped in the forest and died, she would still be alive."

  "But you and Thomas would be dead."

  "So, you're saying you would trade Emma for me and Thomas?" Maeve pushed herself out of Gray's embrace, but Gray caught her by the wrist and gently pulled her back toward him.

  "No! I wouldn't trade any of you." Gray cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to look him in the eyes. "But, Maeve, you made that decision because you were trying to save Thomas. Arabella told you she would kill him if you stopped before you got to Palumbra. What other choice could you have made?"

  Maeve's shoulders slumped. "Why is there always a cost? Why does it always seem that when I make a choice someone dies?" She stepped back again and raised her tortured eyes to Gray's face. A tear dripped from the corner of her eye.

  "This choice wasn't yours, Maeve. It was Emma's."

  "I got her sick."

  "She chose to get near you after you told her. She chose to give you the antidote." Gray's words were calm, measured, as if he was choosing each one carefully. "This was her choice, her sacrifice. Don't take that on yourself. It's a burden you weren't meant to carry."

  Maeve thought back to her last conversation with Emma. "Maeve, if I don't make it, remember, I made a choice, too. And I know it was the right one."

  Another tear tracked its way through the dirt on her cheek. "She told me that. She said it was her choice." Tears were falling freely now, and she rested her forehead on Gray's chest. "I just wish we had made it back sooner."

  Gray closed his arms around her, his tears joining hers, and whispered. "Me too, Maeve. Me too.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Maeve opened her eyes and took stock of her surroundings. Her head was pillowed on Gray's chest where they were stretched out on a couch in the hospital wing of the New Government headquarters. The ache in her chest that had begun three days earlier when she learned of Emma's death hadn't lessened; she had just learned to put one foot in front of the other in spite of it. She shifted to a sitting position, careful not to wake Gray, and looked over at the hospital bed where Ginger lay. Maeve sighed. She settled back on the couch, gathering her courage for another day of waiting for Ginger to wake up. Her gaze traveled over the hip-to-ankle cast, noted the line dripping medicine into her vein, took in the bruises on her arms and stopped on Ginger's blue eyes − her open blue eyes. Maeve jolted to her feet.

  "Ginger!"

  Ginger lifted one hand in a weak wave. "Hi."

  Gray's eyes popped open at Maeve's shout. He shot to his feet, his soldier's training taking over as he scanned the room for a threat. Finding none, he turned to Maeve, "What are you shouting about?"

  Maeve pointed at Ginger who repeated her weak wave and greeting.

  "Ginger!" Gray grinned. "Nice to have you back."

  "Nice to be back." Ginger's voice was scratchy from lack of use. She coughed to clear it, and Maeve handed her a glass of water. "Where are Emery and Tristan?"

  "Sleeping," Maeve said. "We've been taking turns staying with you."

  "What happened? Last I remember, Gray and Emery were stealing a hovercar."

  Maeve barked a short laugh. "There's a lot to tell you."

  Gray and Maeve pulled chairs up next to Ginger's bed and filled her in on everything that had happened to them. When they got to Elton's death, Ginger said, "I guess he was making up for Shalara."

  Maeve shrugged. "Maybe. I think in the end he truly wanted to do the right thing. I just wish the right thing hadn't been dying."

  "You guys got the venom back here and they made the antidote, so everything is OK? Is Emma coming to see me later?"

  Maeve and Gray shared a long look. "Do you want me to tell her?" Gray asked. Ginger's head swiveled from Gray's face to Maeve's, understanding beginning to sink in.

  Maeve shook her head and swallowed. She thought she had cried all the tears she had to cry in the past three days, but she was wrong. Her eyes filled once more.

  "We didn't make it back in time. Emma died three days ago." Maeve's voice broke, and once again tears spilled onto her cheeks.

  Ginger sniffed, and Maeve watched the tears track down Ginger's face, mirroring her own. Gray squeezed Maeve's hand, his own eyes glistening. After a moment, Ginger wiped the tears from her eyes with the hand not attached to the medicine line.

  "So, we didn't get the antidote back in time. Surely they caught Arabella? And what about Thomas?"

  Maeve opened her mouth to answer, but a light knock on the door interrupted. Tristan peeked his head around the door, his eyes widening when he saw Ginger talking with Gray and Maeve.

  "You're awake!"

  No sooner had he spoken than he was pushed aside, and Emery hurtled through the door. She flew to Ginger and was about to hurl herself onto her sister's bed when Tristan caught her from behind. "Leg, remember?" Emery nodded and moved as close to the bed as she could get.

  "How come no one came and got me?" She glared at Maeve and Gray.

  "That was next. We were filling Ginger in on what happened while she was unconscious."

  "Em," Ginger said. "You OK?"

  Emery nodded, then sniffed and wiped her nose with her sleeve. "I'm fine. It's you we were worried about. I'm so glad you're going to be OK. You wouldn't wake up." Her voice became whisper soft. "I was scared."

  Ginger gave her hand a weak squeeze. "We're going to be fine. I'm going to be fine. You can't get rid of me that easily." She gave Emery a watery smile and turned back to Maeve.

  "Tell me what happened with Arabella and Thomas."

  They all stared at the floor until Maeve gathered the courage to speak. "She got away, and she took Thomas with her."

  G
inger stared at them in horror, her gaze moving from face to face as if willing one of them to say it wasn't true.

  "How?"

  Tristan came to stand next to Emery. "She was gone when the soldiers Cleo sent went looking for them. They never came by the room we were hiding in so they must have gone out a different way."

  "Do you guys have any good news?"

  Gray nodded. "Well, the good news is that she doesn't have much of a following left. Most of her troops chose to surrender when they realized they weren't going to just waltz in and take over. Just a few of her troops scattered into the desert, but we don’t know how many were left in Bellus. We cut off their ability to get back there, so their only choice is to take their chances in The Beyond."

  Maeve took over. "The other piece of good news is that with the plagoran venom, we have plenty of antidote and the ability to make a vaccine against the virus, so she can't just try the same tactic again."

  "But no Thomas?" Ginger asked.

  Maeve shook her head, unable to speak. Gray took her hand and squeezed. "We're going to find him. I don't know how, but we will."

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  On the day they buried Emma, the sun turned the sky a brilliant pink as it slowly descended below the horizon. It was as if the heavens were giving Emma one last taste of the beauty the earth could offer. Maeve stood on the hill, leaning against the well as the sun said its final farewell. She held a sheet of paper filled with Emma's familiar handwriting that John had given her during the funeral and told her to find a quiet place to read it. Alone on the hill with the sun saying a brilliant goodbye, Maeve opened the note.

  My courageous Maeve,

  You were the daughter and the granddaughter I never had, and I couldn't have loved you more if you had truly been my own. I know that you will blame yourself for my death, but this was my choice, Maeve. I knew this could happen, and I know you did your best to save me. Let that be enough, Maeve. Don't carry any guilt over my death. My choice. I chose to lay down my life for you because I love you. And I know you would have done the same for me.