Radicals (Blood & Fire)

by Frankie Rose

  “Cai!”

  “She isn’t wearing a halo,” he says defensively. “She can tell us who we need to kill to end all of this. I know she can!”

  “She can’t!” The shout echoes loudly down the street, startling us all. “Only three people in the whole Sanctuary can give you that information, and sadly Yvette is not one of them.” A lone figure is walking down the street toward us. It’s Lowrence. So I wasn’t imagining things when I thought I saw my father in that ship. Over his shoulder, the skyline of the ruined city is on fire, thick black plumes of smoke rising into the sky. It’s all there behind him—the artistry of his handiwork. He looks more than proud of all he’s accomplished in the last twenty minutes.

  “You’re quite easy to find, you realise,” he says, fixing his gaze solely on me.

  He walks with the ease of someone out for a casual stroll, not a man, alone, faced with four trained killers. “All I ever need to do is look for trouble and voilà! You’re always right in the middle of it.” He smiles, like my predictability is an endearing character trait that he finds charming. Ryka angles his body in front of mine, his knives clenched tight in his fists.

  “You’re crazy,” he says, shaking his head. “You’ve got a death wish. We’ll kill you. You realise that, right?”

  My father smiles at this. He holds out both his hands, palm upwards. “I’m weaponless. I thought there was some kind of honour among you people, but I suppose not. Can’t say I’m surprised, to be honest. I tell you what is surprising, though.” He tips his head to one side, turning to look at Caius, his smile growing even larger. “I do believe that the dead have risen.”

  The look of hate on Caius’ face is frightening. I can practically feel the violence radiating off him. He steps forward—just one step—and plucks his flick knife from his belt. Slowly and with the practised movements of someone well used to toying with his prey, he flicks open the weapon, rolling the handle over and between his fingers, letting the blade dance. “You’re gonna wish I was dead. You’re going to pray I was dead.”

  Lowrence lets out a single bark of laughter, not even glancing at the knife in Caius’ hand. He’s not worried. Not one bit. Something’s going on here; if my father is this self-assured in his own safety right now, then there’s obviously a reason. Armed guards on the roofs; some piece of information he believes will save his life. In a cold, exhausted heartbeat, I will Cai to act quickly. To sink the knife into my father’s throat and have done with it once and for all, before he can reveal why the light in his eyes seems amused instead of terrified right now.

  Cai stalks forward like an angry predator, and yet Lowrence doesn’t blink. In fact, he looks to the technician. “Yvette, please be so kind as to fetch your equipment.” The woman, on her knees, hands still bound, looks at him like he’s mad. “I’m sure my daughter will assist you in freeing yourself.”

  Ryka shoots the tech a warning glance—move and I’ll skewer you. “No. She won’t. What the hell are you doing, Lowrence? You might as well spit it out so we can bypass these games.”

  Lowrence sighs. “Well, I thought my daughter and I, we might perhaps arrange a small trade between our parties. You’ll notice that I have some friends with me?”

  No armed guards on the roofs. No piece of information. A trade. A bargaining chip, instead. My stomach turns over and over—what the hell has he got up his sleeve?

  “She’s not trading anything with you.” Ryka nods to Foster with a jerk of his head; Foster raises his rifle, staring grimly down the barrel at Lowrence, who still refuses to react to the situation he finds himself in.

  “I think she will. You see my daughter came back for her brother. She went through a great deal of trouble to abandon her home, and then she risked being captured again in order to save him. I’m willing to bet she would do the same thing again. Turns out she was very altruistic underneath her halo. It’s all very inconvenient when one of your possessions starts to feel things they shouldn’t, but sometimes I suppose it can work in your favour. Your emotions make you predictable, Kit. I can already see everything you’re thinking on your face. You hate me, you’re so angry, and yet you will do anything to make sure he is safe.”

  “You don’t have Luke!” I risk the challenge, even though I know in my heart he wouldn’t be making these grand statements if he didn’t have the leverage he claims he does. Ryka’s hand grips at the back of my shirt, as though he expects me to charge at Lowrence any second. I’ve thought about it. I have. But honestly, what good is it going to do? I have to find out if he’s telling the truth.

  An unbearably smug smile twitches at the corners of Lowrence’s mouth. He reaches into his pocket and holds something small and metal in the palm of his hand. He presses down on it with the pad of his thumb and suddenly Luke is kneeling on the ground in front of us, bound and gagged. A trickle of blood runs from his temple, turned strangely blue by the cast of the hologram. He can’t see us, of course, but we can see him. And the guards standing behind him, with their rifles aimed at the back of his head. He looks terrified.

  “How? How did you get him?” There’s no way they could have located him so quickly amongst the crowds on the roof of that building. The throng of people, frantic ants, fleeing before a storm, would have shielded him from being detected, surely?

  “I have ways of finding my own son,” Lowrence says. “After you left, the Houses were concerned their assets might decide to escape, just like mine did. And rightly so. Measures were taken to ensure we would be able find our property should it decide to defect against us. Now, if you don’t want to see your brother harmed, you’ll free the technician and we can begin.”

  That sounds ominous. I don’t want to begin anything, and yet Luca’s fear is an excellent motivator. Since being freed from my halo, I’ve hated Lowrence. Or at least I thought I did. Compared to the violent power of the emotion I feel toward him right now, my feelings were merely a mild dislike. Now I don’t just want to see him dead. I want to see him suffer first. To plead for his life. I want to give him the blank, unfeeling, unforgiving Falin Kitsch he values so greatly while I drive the points of my knives into his body, ignoring his cries for mercy.

  “Do it,” I say, spitting the words out between my grinding teeth. “Set the technician free.”

  It’s Foster that cautiously frees the tech’s bindings. Yvette stumbles as she tries to stand too quickly, and then she’s running up into the ship behind us.

  “She’s free. Now let him go.” I jerk my head toward the cowering hologram of Luke, fighting to keep myself in reserve. I can’t act too brashly. I don’t know what orders Lowrence has given the guards. He’s a conniving snake, though; I’m sure that he’s told them to kill his son if anything should happen to him.

  “All in good time, daughter. He will be freed once we’ve left this place, and you’ve been dealt with.”

  Yvette’s boots make a clanging sound as she hurries down the metal stairs leading up to the ship. She has a silver box in her hands; it’s a midsize that could contain anything, but Lowrence told her to collect her equipment. It can only contain halos. Ryka presses closer to me, as though he’s come to the same conclusion. “Don’t trust him, Kit.” His voice is awash with anger and trepidation. “He’s not gonna set him free. He’s gonna take you and your brother, and then he’s gonna kill us all.”

  “Oh but don’t you see. You can trust me,” my father says. Taking two large steps to meet Yvette, he accepts the silver box from her, clasping hold of it carefully in both hands as though a priceless treasure is held within. “I could have killed all of you and had done with it, but I didn’t. I want you to come willingly, Falin Kitsch. It’s vitally important, in fact.”

  “Why?”

  Lowrence’s brows bank together to form a rueful expression. “Well,” he says, lifting the box with one hand, “I have plans for you, daughter. And in order for them to work, you must be compliant.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then your
brother will die. And so will he,” he says, eyeing Ryka with distaste. And him, and him”—gesturing to Foster and Caius—“and every other barbarous, savage member of your ragtag group.”

  He already knows what my answer is going to be. I am predictable, after all. I have no other option but to agree. I am already responsible for so many deaths in Freetown, and no matter how badly they may dislike me, I can’t be responsible for any more. Not a single one. And to threaten Ryka? My brother? Caius?

  Yes. He has me exactly where he wants me.

  I step forward—it feels like I’m stepping into a fire. “Alright. Fine. But you have to promise they won’t be harmed…after.”

  “Kit, no!”

  “No!”

  Caius and Ryka both grab for me at the same time, but I can’t let them stop me. I can’t. If this were Ryka in my place, I’m not proud to say that I would let every single soul in Freetown burn to save him. I know Ryka feels that way too, and I can’t let that weight rest on his conscience. Caius, either. He can’t damn himself for this. For me. Not again.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” The words come out choked, tightened by the tears that are threatening to overcome me. Rushing out of their reach, I move straight through the hologram of Luca, looking into his panicked eyes before the image scatters altogether. This is for him. This is for all of them. It’s about time, too. Without me with them, they’ll finally be safe. I hurry to my father, letting him place a hand on my shoulder. Ryka and Caius don’t look like they’re going to let me go without a fight, though. I have to stop them. I have to make them see.

  “Please. Please, Ryka. I need to do this. I need to make amends for the blood I’ve already shed. You can’t ask me to exist in a world where my sacrifice would save the lives of so many others, and I didn’t do it. I can’t. I just—” The words cut off abruptly, my swollen throat forbidding them passage out of my mouth. Ryka’s eyes look wet, but he isn’t attacking. He’s staring at me, brown eyes shining brightly as they travel from mouth to eyes to nose, as though he’s scanning every last inch of me, committing my features to memory.

  “Please, Ryka,” I whisper.

  He swallows hard, and then slowly puts his knives back in his belt. “Okay. Okay.”

  Lowrence’s hand tightens on my shoulder—time to go—but Ryka isn’t finished speaking. He fixes my father under a cold stare; a stare that’s rendered lesser men immobile. “Take me instead.”

  A heart stops beating.

  Lowrence laughs behind me, a surprised ha! sound. “Well now, things just got interesting.”

  “Ryka, don’t be stupid! You wouldn’t last five minutes in the Sanctuary. Imagine what it’s like! You won’t feel anything. You won’t be able to stop him. You’ll—you’ll be nothing!”

  Ryka ignores me, still glaring at Lowrence. “You want a fighter. I’m just as good as Kit. I can do whatever she can; you can count on that. And…and I can be compliant.”

  “Ry, Freetown needs you. Jack, Liv, my brother, everyone needs you here. You’re supposed to be their protector!”

  My words finally force his attention back to me. A coldness has formed in his eyes—a look of cemented decision. That unwavering steel scares me. I’m terrified by it. “This is the best way I can protect them, Kit. If you go, if they take you, I’ll never stop looking for you. I’ll never stop fighting until I get you back. I’ll lead them into ruin and death, and the worst part is…I’ll never succeed.”

  I’m losing feeling in my body. It’s shock, has to be—Ella’s told me about its affects before. My legs don’t feel like they’re going to support me much longer. I’m trying desperately to hold myself together, but it’s not working. I sob, a strangled, desperate sound, and Ryka closes his eyes.

  My father lets me go.

  “I have to admit, you’re quite an attractive prize, Ryka. If you swear to give yourself over willingly, then you have an agreement. Miranda will likely kill me, but…” He shrugs. Miranda’s opinions are clearly not being taken into consideration here. “I’m sure she will be thrilled to welcome her son home once and for all.”

  Caius and Foster have been watching this exchange with obvious horror written on their faces, but now Caius comes to life. His hand clenches tighter around his Balisong, eyes locked on Lowrence. It’s Ryka he speaks to, though.

  “You sure about this?”

  Ryka nods. “If you love her…if you care about her at all, you’ll hold her still until I’m gone.”

  Caius lets his gaze flick quickly to Ryka, who is still staring at me. It feels like he’s just plunged his knife into my heart. Hot tears sting my eyes, blurring my vision, stealing away the sight of him. How? How can he do this? How can he do this to me? The memory of a voice shatters all questions, though; the voice of the High Priestess.

  I would warn you away from this girl, Ryka, but my breath is precious to me these days. I don’t like wasting it. And besides, there will be such value to your sacrifice. Just like there was in your father’s. The Gods will be thoroughly appeased.

  Sacrifice.

  This is the sacrifice the High Priestess was referring to back at the Keep. She knew. She saw all of this and she said nothing to warn us. To prevent any of this! I’m moving before I can think my actions through properly. My knives are in my fists. I’m going to do it. I’m going to kill my father. I’m going to watch his blood slowly seep out of him onto the cracked blacktop, and I’m going to laugh as he dies. I’m going to—

  A pair of strong arms wrap around me from behind.

  “Hush, Kit. Hush. He’s made up his mind. It’s better this way.” Caius speaks in a low voice, trying to get me to calm down, but I can’t. I’m screaming, kicking, lashing out, trying to get myself free, but it’s no use. My body feels totally weak, like I barely have any control over it all. I see Ryka, now standing in front of Lowrence, but there’s nothing I can do about it. I have stood strong in the face of death numerous times since my halo was removed; I have been able to overcome being paralysed by my absolute terror, and I have been able to fight to defend myself and others. But right now, I have nothing. I am nothing. I am helpless to prevent what is about to happen. And yet when my father opens up the silver box he is still holding, it’s not a halo he takes out.

  “This is why you must come willingly,” he says, showing Ryka the contents of his hands. Two small, silver discs lay in the centre of his palm, glinting in the sunlight. Fine, inch-long filaments protrude from the discs, giving them the look of delicate spiders, legs thrusting out of their fat, metallic bodies. An inch-square device sits alongside them, with a series of tiny buttons arranged in a circle like the face of a clock. “If you resist, the system won’t work. It will also kill you, so I suggest you don’t try it. Not a pleasant experience. I’ve witnessed it happen. It’ll fry your entire limbic system instead of subdue it, and I want you docile, not dead.”

  Not a halo. Not something that will simply mask Ryka’s true emotions. This is an entirely different technology, something that will altogether affect his brain function. Change him for good. That can’t be allowed to happen. “No, Ryka. No!”

  His shoulders are tensed but locked into position. He doesn’t blink. Doesn’t move a muscle. “Okay. Fine. But we do this at the Sanctuary, once you’ve released everyone you’ve captured. Once we’re well away from here. The ships, the guards, everyone. ”

  Lowrence closes his hands around the technology in his hand, beaming. “Agreed. Sorry, daughter. I think Miranda would probably kill you for all the trouble you’ve caused us as soon as I get you home, and what use would you be to me then? Her own son on the other hand…she might be more inclined to let him live long enough to rebuild the Kitsch Household’s reputation that you’ve so successfully tarnished with your insolence.” He turns to the tech, completely unfazed that he’s taking a different fighter home with him now. Perhaps a better fighter in his mind. “Yvette, it would seem as though it’s time to go home.”

  The technician shoo
ts me a filthy glance as she scurries to collect the silver box from Lowrence, grabbing it possessively and hurrying back up the stairs leading into the ship. Lowrence takes hold of Ryka’s arm, pulling him forward. Our eyes meet. He looks like he’s already dead inside.

  “Take them away from here, Kit. Get them somewhere safe. Please. Promise me,” he says softly. “And take care of Liv.”

  “No!” I kick savagely behind me, desperately trying to get Caius off me, but my struggling is futile. Cai tightens his hold and grunts, whispering soothingly into my ear.

  “It’s alright, Kit. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay, I promise. I promise. I promise.”

  Foster just stands there, rifle still trained on Lowrence, although his eyes are wide. He obviously can’t believe what’s happening. Neither can I.

  “Ryka, no! NO!”

  He has time for one last look over his shoulder before Lowrence takes him up the steps and into the ship. He narrows his eyes at Cai. “Swear to me you won’t let her follow,” he says.

  I can feel Caius pull in a deep breath, his chest rising against my back. “I swear I won’t let her.”

  And then Ryka smiles at me briefly. “I love you, little Kit. I’m sorry things didn’t happen the way they were supposed to.”

  The ship’s doors close behind him, blotting him out forever.

  Ryka can’t know what happens next. Lowrence’s ship, big and black and bulky against the darkening sky, is much faster than the others. The two that remain hover over the city long enough so that Lowrence and Ryka are long gone before they adhere to Ryka’s stipulations. They do as Lowrence said they would. They leave. And as they do so, they release their prisoners.

  From the nets they still carry underneath them.

  A hundred feet over the city.

  The bodies fall like hurtling black shadows, nothing more than silhouettes against the dusky rose of the sunset. They don’t make a sound. We don’t either. I sit, collapsed in the dirt, unable to see, speak, move.