black tiger (Black Tiger Series Book 1)

by Sara Baysinger

  “H-how do you know I won’t report you?”

  “After my team helped you escape from that prison?” He looks at me, his eyes glowing emerald in the candlelight. “You would do that?”

  “Th-that was you?”

  “That wasn’t me, but it was a member of my team.”

  “The Resurgence?”

  He nods.

  “Oh.” They must have helped us escape because of Ash and Judah, two people who were a part of the Resurgence. Yet, I’m the only one who survived. How disappointed Jonah Walker must be. “I’m sorry more of your people didn’t survive. I was fond of Judah.”

  He nods. Looks down. “Judah was a good man.” He stuffs his pistol back into his belt.

  I stare at the gun. I’m no expert, but I’ve seen enough of what the Defenders carry around. They hold big clunky black guns. But Walker’s pistol is white, no larger than his hand, and it made no noise when he shot the cameras out.

  “Where’d you get that?” I ask. Surely not from Titus.

  “The Indy Tribe.”

  “The who?”

  He turns to the fridge “You got anything to drink in here?”

  “Um—” Before I can answer, he pulls out a bottle and sits on a barstool, rainwater still dripping off his coat. “Cheers,” he says, and begins chugging his drink down.

  “So…what are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I told you. Hiding from them.”

  “I mean, what are you doing in Frankfort. You’re wanted by Titus.”

  “Oh. Yeah. That.” He rolls his eyes. “I’m visiting a family member.”

  A family member? “So, you’re a Patrician?”

  “You think I would have the free will to work against the government if I wasn’t?” He laughs out loud, a deep sound resembling the thunder outside. “No one can control me. No one.” He takes another drink, sets his bottle down, studies me in the dim light of the candle. “Holy Crawford you look so much like her.”

  “Like who?”

  “How does it feel, by the way?” He ignores my question. “Rising from the place of a Proletariat to a Patrician?”

  “Not too different. Should I feel different?”

  “Well, you can communicate with black tigers, yes? That’s kind of a big deal. Can you command the Proletariat, too?”

  “Command the Proletariat?” What on earth is he talking about?

  “You know. Like the Patricians do.”

  “Why would I want to?”

  “Same reason they do.” He shrugs. “Power.”

  “That’s not really…a good reason.”

  He stares at me and smiles a strange smile. “Ember Carter, you do not disappoint.” He lifts his bottle in salute, then chugs down the rest of his drink.

  And I watch him. A dozen questions filter through my mind, and I struggle to pick just one that’s appropriate to ask right now, when a tap sounds at the window.

  “Ah. My comrades.”

  His what?

  He strides to the window and opens it. Thunder rolls overhead, accompanied by more lightning and pounding rain. Two girls and three boys climb into the room, all dressed up in thick coats, gloves, and heavy hats. I almost forgot it’s winter in the rest of Ky. They pull a black rope in after them, then disconnect it from their belts.

  Jonah Walker closes the window behind them and pulls the drapes shut. “Drinks in the fridge.”

  “Coffee?” a boy with thick-rimmed glasses asks.

  “This is Frankfort. I’m sure there’s some in there.”

  He hurries into the kitchen, the others behind. They start making themselves at home, dishing up food from the fridge and pouring drinks, and I really, honestly don’t mind. Because there was no way I could have eaten all this food by myself, so it’s good to know it won’t be wasted.

  I study the others, and my eyes are drawn to one of the girls. Strong build. Dark, dark skin. Looks like a lioness. And I gasp. “Ash?”

  She looks up from a sandwich she was just about to chomp into and grins widely. “Hey there, Thirteen.”

  I grin at the use of my prison nickname, as short-lived as it was.

  “You—you’re alive?” I ask.

  She looks down at her body as though seeing it for the first time, then looks at me. “It would appear so.”

  “I thought—I thought—the tigers—”

  “Nope. Tigers didn’t get me.” She winks. “I’m fast and parted from the group before they got to me.”

  My heart lifts. I just wish Judah and I were smart enough to part ways. If I wasn’t there to slow him down, he might have gotten away, too.

  I watch the others as they dig into their food. Their clothes are dripping with rain water, their hair matted down, and they look famished.

  “So, are you all the Resurgence?”

  “Just a small part,” Walker says. “We call these brave young souls the Fearless Five. Allow me to introduce Isaac, Levi, Digory, Kate, and of course you know Ash.” I nod at them. Levi, the one with glasses who asked for coffee, pours dark granules into a machine. Digory is lanky with red, red hair. I didn’t even think hair could grow that color. Isaac is tall and well-built, and Kate is about my height. Her belt is packed full of weapons. I don’t think I would ever want to get on her bad side.

  “And comrades,” Walker says. “This is the living legend. The newest Patrician Sister. Miss Ember Carter.”

  Kate smirks. “How does it feel to rise above your own kinsmen, Carter?” She takes in my white plush robe. “Enjoying the luxuries of Frankfort, I see.”

  I look at my robe. “This isn’t—I don’t usually—” I clamp my mouth shut, shame burning my face to my hairline. “I actually kind of hate it here.”

  “Good,” Isaac mumbles. “Because Frankfort will only destroy you.”

  “Are you all here to visit family, then?” I try to sound as casual as they act.

  “Are you kidding?” Levi, the one with glasses, says while he stares at the machine that’s now pouring black liquid into a glass pitcher. He seems like the brains of the bunch. “Walker here is the only one who is Patrician-born. We’ve just come to help do the dirty work.”

  “What dirty work?”

  Levi looks at me, opens his mouth to respond, but Walker cuts him off.

  “We’re here to recruit you.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I blink. “Huh?”

  Walker grins. “We want you, Ember Carter, to work with us.”

  “Y-you want me? To work with the—the Resurgence?”

  “Yes.”

  I glance at the others. They all seem to pause their eating, all looking at me expectantly, waiting for an answer, and I’m reminded at how much I hate being put on the spot.

  “Um. Wh-why do you want…me?”

  “You’re a fighter,” Walker says. “Ash told us all about your courage, your speedy stealth, the way you’re not afraid to stand up to Patricians and plan suicidal escapes. We need someone with your courage and, um, unbrainlessness on our side. We want you to help us take down the chief.”

  Holy Crawford. Jonah Walker wants me to help the Resurgence take down the chief. Just to speak of such things is treason. And kind of thrilling.

  But, also impulsive.

  Because I’m leaving tomorrow. I’m finally going home. But if I choose to work with rebels, my picture will be hanging right up there with Walker’s, and I’ll never be free to go home again. I won’t be able to resume my work as a farmer. I mean, will I even see Dad or Elijah again?

  “I-I don’t think I can do that.”

  The others resume eating, some rolling their eyes.

  “See?” Isaac says to Walker. “I told you she wouldn’t be up for it.” He shoots me a glare. “She’s too scared.”

  I almost snap that I’m not scared, but then decide that he might be right. I am afraid. I’m afraid of dying. Terrified, really. So, yeah, Isaac’s absolutely right. I look at Walker and shrug.

  He stares at me. Relea
ses a heavy sigh, the kind I’d hear when I’d disappointed Dad. “Why not?”

  “I’m going home tomorrow and I don’t want to die.”

  “Okay. But what if I told you you’re not going to die, and that you’ll get to see your family again once all this blows over?”

  “I mean, how can you be sure?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Then…no.” I shake my head and look down at my hands. “I really just want to go home. I want to live a normal life. I already faced death and didn’t like it. So unless you can one-hundred percent guarantee that I’ll live through this, I don’t want to join your little army.”

  He presses his lips firmly together and he doesn’t really look as happy as he did when he first entered the room. He looks almost…devastated.

  “Wait,” I say. “You didn’t…you didn’t come all the way to Frankfort just to talk me into joining you guys, did you?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” Kate says as she scrapes the bottom of her bowl. “You’re just a side project Walker insisted on taking on. We all tried to talk him out of it, but he wouldn’t let up.”

  Now I really feel guilty. And I don’t understand why, exactly, Walker believes in me so much that he would go out of his way to try and convince me to join them. I’m nobody.

  He stares at me long and hard, then says, “You’ll change your mind.” He looks at the others. “Finish up your food, kids. It won’t be long before the Defenders know we’re here.” He swivels his eyes to the broken cameras, and the others chug down their drinks and finish off their food. They stuff more food into their pockets and begin making their way to the door. Except Levi.

  “Hurry up, Levi,” Isaac says in obvious annoyance.

  “I’m hurrying. Just hang on.” Levi fumbles through the cupboards until he finds a large thick cup with a lid, and he pours the black liquid into it, the whole time mumbling, “Holy Crawford, it’s been so long. I’ve gone way too long without coffee.” And then he seals the lid onto the cup, takes the entire bag of granules, stuffs it into his coat pocket, and joins the others by the door.

  “Thanks for the food,” Digory, the boy with red hair says as he opens the door. He’s about to walk out, then hesitates. “And thanks for not sounding the alarm.”

  “Should I sound the alarm?”

  Digory’s brows flicker as he stares at me for a moment. “Depends. Whose side are you on?”

  What kind of question is that? I was only recently informed that there were two sides, and I don’t know anything about the Resurgence side, other than Jonah Walker is their leader and they want to assassinate Titus. And so far, Titus has been kind of nice to me so…

  “I—I don’t know,” I finally say.

  “Well, you might want to figure it out.” Digory grins a boyish grin. “There are going to be questions, now that you’re straddling the Proletariat and the Patrician line. Are you for us––the Resurgence––or are you for Chief Whitcomb?”

  Chief Whitcomb? His smiling eyes flash through my mind. His warm welcome, the way he let me go home, no problem. Before I can answer, Digory is out the door.

  Walker pauses at the door. “We really do appreciate your hospitality, Ember.” He looks at me, I mean, really looks at me, studying every feature of my face, my eyes, my nose, my mouth, then says. “It’s unbelievable how much you look like her.”

  “Like who?”

  “Your mother.” He shakes his head in disbelief, and rests his hand on my shoulder. “I really truly wish you would come with us, but I understand your fear. You’re still young. Think about my offer. I will come back for you. That’s a promise.” And he disappears into the hallway with the others, leaving me in a haze of eleven-thousand questions, like how in the shoddy inferno did Walker know my mom and why does he want me to join him?

  I close the door. It seems too quiet all of a sudden. Like I just hosted a party and now am left to clean up the mess. Alone. The silence of the room is almost deafening against the questions screaming in my head, begging for answers. But no one seems to be eager to explain themselves around here, and I’m left in a haze, clueless and ignorant of everything.

  So I return to bed. I close my eyes. I try to clear my mind.

  But I can't sleep. Outside, more sirens wail past. I pull my comforter tighter around my body and close my eyes. Listening to the rain beat against the glass reminds me of home, when it beat against our roof in the Garden. Thunderstorms always remind me of Mom. Elijah would get scared of the thunder and lightning, and Mom would sing, her humming merging with the sound of the thunder, and suddenly storms weren’t so scary anymore. I remember her singing lullabies to me at night, combing her fingers through my hair, her soothing voice washing over me.

  Follow me, little one, to land of ashes

  Where death has its hold so it seems

  Where rivers flow free and the water washes

  Back the control of the supremes

  Tunnels run deep by the northern line

  When you follow the emerald eyes

  Hidden beneath a blanket of vines

  Is a place where our only hope lies

  Emerald eyes.

  Like Jonah’s eyes.

  And now my eyes fly open. This song is no lullaby. This is a riddle. It’s a song of the Resurgence.

  Emerald eyes, that’s gotta be Jonah Walker. And the northern line is the Ohio River, since that’s the river by Louisville, where Judah hinted the Resurgence was located. Where death has its hold, so it seems. Louisville is known to be completely abandoned. The dead city. The ashen city, as most people call it. Because half of it’s been burned to the ground.

  …the land of ashes…

  Holy Crawford, how am I just now realizing this? And how did Mom know this song? Did she know it was a riddle? Is it a riddle? Or am I just making that up? Ugh…I doesn’t matter. Because I’m never going there.

  When I finally fall asleep, dreams of green eyes dance through my mind. I dream that I’m in Leaf’s cabin in the Community Garden. Darkness of night envelops the outside world, and rain pounds on the windows and roof. Everyone is there. Dad, Mom, Elijah, Leaf, and even Jonah and his comrades. We’re all sitting on the floor, the faint candlelight illuminating a map of Louisville.

  Footsteps sound outside our door and someone shouts, “Defenders of the Peace. Everyone come out with your hands up.”

  Walker rolls up the map. Mom blows out the candle.

  “Come on,” Leaf says. He takes my hand and leads me to the back window where rain splatters against the pane. More shouts from outside, then the door breaks in.

  “We have to go back,” I say to Leaf.

  Leaf turns to look at me. Except this time it’s not Leaf. It’s Judah. His dark eyes shine in the faint glow of the moonlight. “Whose side are you on?”

  A clap of thunder jolts me awake. Lightning flashes across the sky. But Judah’s whispers still ring in my ears, as though he were here.

  Whose side are you on?

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  I’m going home today. That’s the first thought that enters my mind when I wake up, and I grin.

  LeighAnn and River arrive shortly after I’m awake. They help me get ready, despite my insistence that I’ve been getting ready on my own for sixteen years and can still do it alone, thank-you-very-much. I guess they have their careers, just like I’ll have mine.

  I expect the clothes they give me to be the normal farmers uniform––white wool shirt, brown cotton pants, rubber boots. But they pack the farmers uniform in a suitcase and dress me in an emerald toga fit for a Patrician. It’s simple, easy to adjust and put on, but looks so elaborate. I feel like I should be attending another ball, not returning to the Community Garden. They insist on makeup, but I decline. I don’t want to look completely Patrician when I return. I want to look myself.

  A jeep is already waiting for me when we exit the hotel.

  Forest stands beside it, his hands shoved into his pockets. Well. This is a sur
prise.

  Gripping my handbag, I walk toward him. “Shouldn’t you be spending the morning with Olivia?”

  “You shouldn’t go back to the orchard.”

  I stop. “Why not?”

  “Because you haven’t found out your whole history yet. Aren’t you interested in why you’re a Patrician?”

  I heave out a sigh and open the jeep door. “I don’t really care. I’m sure my dad will tell me if I ask.”

  “Ember.” Forest’s voice is low and he touches my arm.

  I pull away. “Yes?” I don’t look at him.

  “Stay.”

  Now I look at him. “Why?”

  “Because Chief Whitcomb is letting you go too easily, and I’m afraid—I’m afraid he might have something else planned. Something dangerous.”

  “Chief Whitcomb is nicer than I ever gave him credit for. He didn’t have a single problem with me leaving. I didn’t even have to fight him. I really think you’re overthinking everything.”

  He releases a sigh. Runs a hand through his shaggy blond hair. Looks past me in thought. Then looks right at me. “I think…someone went behind Chief Whitcomb’s back, and that’s why you’re a Patrician. Someone slipped you the antitoxin. The only type of person who would go behind the chief is a spy from the Resurgence. And if you’ve been working with spies—”

  “You think I’m a spy? That I’m working with them? I’d never even heard of them until—”

  “Leaf.”

  “Yes.” My voice is a husky whisper at the memory of Leaf. I swallow hard, shove the memory of Leaf back into the deepest compartment of my mind. “For your information, Chief Whitcomb wasn’t the least bit angry about my leaving. In fact, I think I’ve won him over.” I offer a winning smile, the same one I used for Titus when I asked to leave. “Your brother is a very good teacher in Frankfort etiquette. Thanks to him, I know how to talk to your kind of people.”

  He narrows his eyes. “Yes, your smile is very charming, and you acted boldly last night. Very Patrician of you.”

  Something deflates in my chest at the way he calls me Patrician.