Mcallister’s incessant need to keep Aurora alive bothers me. I don’t know why. He’s always looked out for good people.
My phoneband blinks again, and I check the new message from Isaac. Isaac—who’s been messaging me since I got my phoneband back.
Have you killed her yet? We aren’t returning to Ky until she’s dead.
-Isaac
A fresh sense of dread fills me. It’s a new feeling. I mean, I understand the dread I felt keeping Aurora alive for Mcallister’s sake. I wanted her dead. But this? This dread at having to kill her? Maybe I don’t want her dead. Not yet, at least.
I type a quick response to ease Isaac’s mind.
Soon.
That’ll get him off my shoddy back for the time being. I click my phoneband off and stop in front of Ember’s headstone, clear my mind of everything except what is in front of me at this moment.
Flames are carved into the edges of the stone, and the way the sunrise glints off the letters of her name makes it almost look like sparks are shooting out. I don’t feel her presence, like so many people claim to do when they visit the dead. There’s nothing here but the brisk wind of spring blowing across the charred field. I kneel in front of the headstone.
I don’t feel Ember’s presence—but I do feel God’s.
And maybe it’s God I should be approaching right now. I’ve been kind of pissed at him the past few days. He never shows up when I want him to, yet he does show up when I least expect it.
Like now.
When I have a hangover and am seeking solace from the dead.
“God,” I say to the wind.
TRY.
Unbidden, my last memory of Ember comes to me. Her eyes, wild and free just before she leapt into the river.
It was Aurora all along, she’d said. You told me I am the Garden and God is the Sower. Don’t you understand? I am the dirt. Aurora is the seed. I’m here to prepare the way, but she’s the real leader. She’s the one who’s supposed to redeem Ky. She’s been trained for this.
I remember the desperation in her eyes. Desperation for me to understand something I didn’t want to accept.
I’m supposed to prepare the way for her. That’s why I have to save her.
TRY, God says.
Fine. For the next few days, I will try to see Aurora the way Ember wanted me to see her. Because, as much as I hate to admit it, Aurora was right. Maybe I should at least try to see what Ember saw. It’ll be easier after last night. After catching a glimpse of a real, feeling person. And maybe—just maybe—Aurora hasn’t been faking this whole time. Maybe I only saw what I wanted to see. And maybe it’s time to let that go.
God, I hate this uncertainty. I’m used to being in control. And now I have nothing.
Again, God is silent. He said what he had to say, and I don’t expect any more from him. I run my fingers along the engravings of Ember’s name. The edges of the letters are still sharp, the surface of the headstone still smooth as glass.
EMBER CARTER, DELIVERER OF KY.
The speck that grew into a flame that blew over an entire city.
Deliverer of Ky.
The flame.
Why did you have to die? Just when I let my guard down. Just when I allowed myself to love you, you left. My fingertips drag down the surface of the headstone. That was a cruel thing to do, little apple-picker. My fingers burrow into the ground where I grab a fistful of dirt. The dirt burying the love of my life.
I’ll try for the sake of God. For the sake of Ember. For the sake of her life that was lost.
But one wrong move, and Aurora is dead.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
AURORA
The doors burst open. People dressed from head to toe in black flood the room. I’ve never seen so many people at once. I grip Gideon against my chest and slink deeper beneath the covers. If these are rebels looking for treasure, they’ll find nothing here. But they come straight to my bedside. They throw the covers off of me. The person closest to me reaches for Gideon.
“No!” I scream. I snake my arms around my now screaming child. “Please,” I whimper. “Take anything you want. But not him!”
The person dressed in black smacks his hand across the side of my head and colors explode behind my eyelids.
I wake up on a cold floor, gasping for breath, my hands trembling. Beads of sweat gather on my forehead. My eyes fly open, I scan my surroundings, and I try to reorient myself.
I’m in the charred cabin. Ember’s cabin. Rain is leaning his hip against the wall, his arms crossed. He studies me, his brows furrowed.
“Bad dream?” he asks.
I place my hand on my forehead. “Bad memory,” I mumble, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.
His brows lift. He uncrosses his arms and looks away, drags his hand across the back of his neck. “Chale is outside keeping lookout. We should head out.”
I nod. My head is pounding, and I massage my temples to ease the headache. Then I sit up, but that’s a mistake, because now my stomach is turning and writhing. I cover my mouth, leap to my feet and bolt outside just in time to throw up in the grass. I heave until my sides hurt and tears sting my eyes and my throat burns. When it’s finally over, I sit back, lean my head against the cabin wall, and open my eyes to find Rain and Chale watching me. I should be horrified for them see me, their chief, in such a state, but I’m just relieved the puking is over. I feel the same way I did when I was pregnant. The morning sickness was something terrible. But there’s no way I’m pregnant. I haven’t slept with anyone since Titus.
“You have a hangover,” Rain says, taking note of my confusion. He looks at the ground where I puked, and his nose scrunches before he looks away. “We need to get water into your system soon. C’mon. To the town square, then we’ll head to Frankfort.”
The thought of walking all day sounds like a horrible idea. I’ve never wanted to curl up in my bed in the safety of my room more than I do now. But we’ll need food. And, of course, water. We need to get to Frankfort before more chaos ensues. It’s time to suck it up and put on my chief face. Chale walks over and takes my hand, helping me to my feet.
“Thanks,” I mumble. Now that the nausea has passed, I’m beginning to feel the shame. I shoot Rain a glare. Did he do this on purpose? Fill me with liquor just so I would feel like trash on the day we have a huge journey ahead of us? He pulls on his vest, and his eyes meet mine briefly, but I don’t see any mockery. Only a hint of remorse. Maybe some pity. Then he turns around and leads the way down Ember’s dirt path onto the gravel road. I think we all know we’re safe now. If someone was after us, we would have seen people patrolling the streets last night, or at least this morning. When we arrive at the town square, we step through the doors of The Tap.
Without a hint of shame, Rain saunters up to the bar and looks the gruff bartender in the eye. “Three glasses of water.”
The bartender’s beard parts to reveal a toothy grin and he nods. “Of course. Yes. Yes.” He serves us water and I chug mine down. Hopefully it’ll speed up the process of ending this hangover. Rain orders bottles of water for the road, then orders some bread and cheese, to which the bartender responds by telling us he has no such food here.
“Do you have any food here?” Rain asks, clearly annoyed.
The bartender nods and disappears in the back room for a minute, then returns with three boxed meals.
Rain rolls his eyes. “I guess it’s better than nothing.” He grabs the boxes and begins heading for the door, but I stop him, place my hand on his arm.
“You can’t take these.”
“Excuse me?”
“This food came from his rations. Which have been late the past few months, thanks to my brother. I plan to fix that, but we can’t take his food away from him.”
His eyes fill with sudden understanding. He utters a curse. “Sometimes I forget how the rest of the country lives.” He lets out a hollow laugh and shakes his head,
then turns around and returns the meals to the bartender.
The three of us head back out with our water and empty stomachs. But our hunger is temporary. This might be the first time I’ve felt this persistent gnawing at my stomach, while everyone else in Ky experiences this every day. It makes my heart ache, the fact that my people are hungry. And how on earth am I going to fix that? How am going to scrap enough food for all of Ky’s citizens in just a few months? I don’t want to give boxed meals and wafers to the rich. I want to be able to distribute fresh foods to the poor. I want to lift Ky up, not bring Frankfort down. But how can I do that? Nashville gives us a lot of the richer foods that Frankfort lives off of. What could I do to make them want to trade again? What did Titus do that pleased them so much? Nashville is one secret Titus never let me in on.
What about Indy? Would they be willing to help? Not without Rain’s consent. Not until all of Ky has been freed.
My fists clench by my sides. What have I done accepting my place as leadership? Ember was the smart one. Ember got out while she could. No wonder she didn’t want to lead. Although, leading would have been much easier for her. The Patricians adored her. She had the whole Resurgence as her backup, and the Resurgence had all of Indy as their back up. They had plans that were in the works for over a decade. I thought I could lead because I was trained to lead. But I’m realizing now, that was just another lie fed to me by Titus. He may not have compelled me, but I’m slowly realizing he had me just as brainwashed as everyone else with his lies. And now I’m left to sort through what was truth and what was deception.
Walker wanting to take down us Whitcombs so he could steal our treasure: Lie.
Me being qualified to take leadership: Lie.
The Resurgence taking Gideon: Lie.
I can’t believe he had me believe for years that the Resurgence took Gideon while he knew where my son was all along. I can’t believe he had the balls to visit me, watch me mourn, hear me pour my heart out, and had the gall to attempt to comfort me.
I’m not much of a killer. But I’ll kill Titus myself once all this blows over.
“So.” Rain trots up beside me and flashes a grin, an odd thing in a place like this. “What’s the plan once we get back to Frankfort?”
“I don’t know. Settle this dispute with the politicians. Ask Titus where—and if there are any more antitoxins stored up. And if there aren’t any left, then we’ll have to get the lab tech to start creating more.” I look ahead. “Have you heard from Mcallister?”
“Apart from his incessant nagging, telling me to keep an eye on you?”
I look sharply at him. “What are you talking about?”
He rolls his eyes. “James Mcallister has not stopped pestering me since we left Frankfort. And after our little run-in with the politicians, he’s been extra…protective of you, to say the least.”
Protective? Is he serious? “That makes absolutely no sense.”
“No?” Rain asks, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Why not?”
“Um…he pretty much told me to clear the minds of the people of Ky, or he wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. And I didn’t carry out the plan, so…”
“Ah. I see. Well I think he’ll be forgiving, considering the circumstances.” He tilts his head toward me. “It is, after all, his fault the politicians got to us. Didn’t he stay back to keep an eye on things?”
I arch a brow. “Are you trying to get your best friend in trouble, Rain? That’s so unlike you.”
“No way. I’d give my life for James. Just trying to make you realize that, even though the politicians want to take you down, and even though I myself have tried to kill you, not everyone hates you.”
Why on earth is Rain trying to comfort me? I kick a pebble into the ditch. “So…Mcallister has my back then.” I nod, as if having just one more person join my three-person team really boosts my confidence that much. “Thanks, Rain. I feel so much better about taking over the government now.”
“Well you should. Captain James Mcallister is one of the best Defenders around. You should be honored to have him on your side.”
I smile. I can’t help it. For some reason, today Rains presence has brought with it a certain…lightness. He’s not really one to go out of his way to be nice to people, so I’m wondering what his underlying goal is. Especially since he almost left me for dead yesterday, and then gave me a hangover after last night. But for now, it’s nice to have Rain as a friend…ish.
“Well,” I say. “I’m just glad you listen to Mcallister. If not for him, I’d be dead right now.”
“Seems fate has smiled down on you, vixen. For now at least.”
For now? I wonder what he means by that.
“I guess in the end, God will have the final say,” I say.
He barks out a laugh. “You,” he says, looking at me with mocking gray eyes, “believe in God?”
“Don’t you?”
“Well, yes. But I’m not you. You’re the chief’s sister. You stayed hidden in your room while Titus was killing innocent victims and running this country straight to hell.”
My mouth drops open. “Like you were any better.”
“You arrogant little—”
“What were you doing this whole time?” I snap. “I mean, I was locked in a room. You weren’t. You were free to leave whenever you wanted. You were free to fight. Instead you hung out in Frankfort where you drank like a fish and flirted with all the girls and indulged in your Patrician status. So tell me, Rain Turner, which one of us is the more at fault?”
Any humor I thought I saw in his eyes is gone. His lips press together, and his jaw clenches and unclenches. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t I? The past three years of your life have been you lying to gain popularity.”
He lifts one finger. “I lied, yes. For popularity? Absolutely. But I never really cared if people actually liked me.” He arches a brow at my disbelieving expression. “There is a difference, Chief, and you know it. You care far too deeply about what people think of you. You thrive on their approval, be it Titus, Krin, or your loyal subjects. And why? Why do you even care? You’re the shoddy chief.”
His words cut to the quick. Why do I care if the Patricians like me or not? Titus never cared, but then, they adored him so it wasn’t a problem. Maybe I should have kept my mouth shut. Who am I to throw accusations at Rain? I’m no better. But on the other hand, how could I remain silent when he throws his assumptions at me?
“Look,” I say, steering the conversation back to the divine. “I believe in God. I think she presents herself to different people in different ways, but her message is the same. I’ve read the stories from the Bible, and whether or not they’re true, there are still deep truths to them. Truths about helping each other out, living in peace and equality and, ultimately, truths about love and self-sacrifice. These are the truths I believe in, and if you believe those same things, then we should be a team. We should be friends, not enemies. Because at the end of the road, we want the exact same things.”
He stares at me, but his anger has ebbed some. His lips quirk up in an amused smile. “She?”
Great. I brace myself for his insults.
“Huh. I’ve never imagined God as a she before. God’s always referred to as he in the Bible, but…the Bible was written in patriarchal society by people in that society. I don’t know if it’s even accurate to place any gender on God. God is beyond gender, beyond any human comprehension. Yet, as humans, we have a need to put some human characteristics on God just as a way to relate and feel more personal.” He looks at me, his eyes alight with passion. Rain always was one to enjoy philosophical conversations. “I think if seeing God as a she is the way you personally connect with God, then it’s absolutely valid. Not wrong or right, but just another vein God uses to speak to you specifically.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and looks forward; the wheels in his head clearly spinning. “I’ll be on y
our team, Aurora.” He looks at me again, his eyes sincere. “And time will tell if our actions are really motivated by belief in the same God—she, he, it, whatever form God’s energy takes.”
Chale stops short in front of us. “Stop.” His eyes scan the horizon of green fields, freshly budded with life.
“What’s wrong, Chale?” Rain asks, stepping up beside him.
“Patricians,” Chale says, looking at me. “I just saw three of them dart across the road, behind that house. One of them had a gun.” Chale pulls his own gun out of his belt. “Into the vineyard,” he says.
Rain utters a curse. “You’re her bodyguard. You take the princess to safety. I’ll face the Patricians. I probably know a few of them.”
“Rain,” I say. “You can’t be serious. They will kill you. Both of you need to run away.”
“They already saw us,” Chale says. “If we don’t confront them, they may follow us and kill us in our sleep. Rain’s right. He can stay behind and maybe talk some sense into the Patricians. I’ll lead you to safety.” He hands his gun to Rain. “In case you need it.” He jerks his head for me to follow, then steps into the cloak of the vineyard.
“Rain, no—” I look back at Rain, but he’s already stuffing the gun into the back of his pants and sauntering down the road so confidently, I’d think he was going to another picnic.
“Boys,” I hear him call out. “We already saw you, so you might as well come out.”
I slip into the vineyard, then pause just long enough to see another boy with a newsboy cap step out from behind the building, two others behind him. Chale ushers me along the row toward the edge of the Garden. And we run. We bolt through the fields toward the other side of the vineyard.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
RAIN
“Brendan.” I force my friendliest grin, although I’ve never held any fondness for Brendan. Especially not after that little fallout with Ember at the Black Tiger Club. But he’s always aspired to be me. Looks like his obsession is getting a bit out of hand with that ridiculous newsboy cap and all.
white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3) Page 21