white dawn (Black Tiger Series Book 3)

by Sara Baysinger

  I sigh and lean back against the wall. The sun has climbed high into the sky, beating down on the golden streets of Frankfort. The golden city might end up in ruins, after all. And everyone will blame Aurora, when in reality, it would have happened, no matter who distributed the antitoxin. The only way we would have avoided this catastrophe was if Titus remained in his leadership role.

  How utterly ironic.

  “That was…moving.”

  I straighten and spin around. Aurora steps onto the balcony. She’s wearing a black shirt, cargo pants, knives and guns stuffed into her belt, and her hair tossed up in a bun. She looks more like a Defender in Training than the royal Chieftess of Ky. I kind of like it, her downplay on looks. The way she prioritizes fighting for her country over looking pretty for the cameras that have been on her since we arrived. Her carelessness toward appearances is one reason the Patricians had a problem with her. She’s not stylish enough for them.

  But right now, as she steps beside me, I realize how much she resembles Ember when we first returned to Frankfort from the caverns. I remember Ember’s combat clothes, how she dressed for battle in her first return to Frankfort, and my heart aches. I loved her then. I loved her since her fist cracked my jawbone. I’ll love her until the day I die.

  Without thinking, I reach out and push a strand of hair behind Aurora’s ear. She stiffens, then steps back. I drop my hand, silently cursing myself. I know she’s not Ember. So why did I still feel the urge to reach out? To touch her, as though touching her would momentarily bring Ember back?

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper, turning away and resting my forearms on the banister. “I just…I need…”

  “You miss her,” she says.

  “Yes.” More than she could know.

  “I’m sorry…that I look so much like her.” She scratches her thumbnail along the concrete.

  I huff out a laugh. “It’s not your fault. I used to hate you for it. But, I see you as a different person now. Not as her clone. Not as Titus's puppet. You’ve held your own and you’ve shown me who you are.” I look at her, study her features that are unique and her. “You look like her, and yet, you look nothing like her. Not in a bad way. You’re just…two completely different people.”

  “Ember was braver than I am.” Her lips quirk up in a sad smile. “She knew who she was, what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid to stand by that, no matter the cost.”

  Aurora couldn’t be more right about her sister. Ember’s desire to go back to the Garden after she was released from prison, then her desire to leave Ky, all drove her actions. She didn’t care what anybody thought of her. She knew what she wanted and went for it. But that’s what cost her, her life. Because when she wanted Aurora to be chief, she gave up everything to make that happen.

  My throat closes. I don’t usually allow myself this much time to think about her. But there’s something about chaos hitting the horizon that makes my thoughts slow down, makes the darkest secrets come to light, and makes the most heart-wrenching thoughts resurface.

  “Ember was brave, yes,” I whisper. “And she knew what she wanted.” I turn fully and search Aurora’s eyes. “But she didn’t have the natural leadership you possess. You’re one of those people who doesn’t speak often, but the moment you open your mouth to say something, everyone stops to listen. I noticed it at the ball, surrounded by people who hated you. I even noticed it in the meeting just now, how the loud, obnoxious men stopped their arguing to hear one simple statement from you.”

  She blinks and looks away, but I tip her chin back up so our eyes meet. “Sometimes, you’re timid and quiet, like a mouse. Other times you’re fearless like a lioness. And when the lioness appears, everyone listens.” I release an empty laugh and drop my hand from her chin. “Ember would have really liked you. I mean, obviously she did, because she gave her life for you. But she didn’t know you like I do. She didn’t see the way you moved your people, the way you gave them hope. She didn’t see your strength in leading a country and your compassion for the people who are already diseased. She didn’t see how you punched your brother or completely gutted Congress. She would have loved you.” I swallow hard and grip the balcony ledge. “She made the right choice.”

  I can’t believe I just said that. But I can’t get myself to take the words back. Aurora is staring at me like I pronounced myself king, and I’m wondering if Ember is up there laughing at me. Because she knew. She knew exactly what she was doing. She tried to tell me so many times, and I ignored her. I didn’t trust her like I should have. If I did, would she still be alive? If I gave my life up instead of Ember, yes. She would. And that thought alone squeezes my lungs until there is no more air to exhale.

  “No. She didn’t,” Aurora whispers.

  I look sharply at her.

  “She should have lived,” she says softly. “I should have died. She had so much more to live for, more people who mourned her death, fewer demons in her head dimming the beauty of life for her as they do me. Rain, I’m really, really sorry about Ember.” She lifts her eyes to mine, and the green is blurred by tears. “If I could go back and change things, I would tell her to keep going, to cross the river and not look back. Everything just happened so fast and I—” Her voice cuts off and she looks away. “I had no right to live. I have no family, no worth. Nothing.”

  Oh, God, no. Does she really see herself as worthless? The iron fingers of guilt close around my throat because it’s my fault. I blamed Aurora for months, and I didn’t hold back from the cutting remarks that left my lips.

  As soon as Walker sees how worthless you are, I will hunt you down and kill you.

  I shudder at my own words spoken only weeks ago. Worthless. I called her worthless.

  “Aurora.” My voice is thick and I clear my throat. “Aurora, you’re not worthless. You’ve put all your effort into righting what is wrong. You’re admirable and fearless. You have no need to apologize. But if it’s forgiveness you’re looking for, then I forgive you.”

  And those three words are my undoing. A weight is lifted and I suddenly feel free. Elated. So light that I laugh. Tears spring to my eyes and I let them fall. I’m done hiding. Done fighting. Done being angry and bitter and closed off. Just done.

  “The weight of my hatred toward you has been unbearable, to say the least,” I say through the thickness in my throat. “I hated you for posing as Ember when her life was at stake. I hated you for taking her place as leader. I hated you for looking like her. I hated you for taking my mother away. I thought killing you would lighten the burden, but I realize now it would have only broken me completely. And…you don’t really need my forgiveness, because everything that happened was out of your control. But for the sake of my own peace of mind, I forgive you.”

  I rest both forearms on the banister. The freedom of this moment would be so much greater if death wasn’t bordering the horizon. But death doesn’t scare me anymore. I’ve thought about ending it several times after Ember’s death, but there was always something keeping me alive, keeping me from resorting to complete self-destruction. And this was it—forgiving Aurora. Not that she needed my forgiveness. She did nothing wrong. I can’t hold her accountable for Ember’s actions, nor my mother’s actions. The forgiveness was more for my own freedom. A way to release all my anger and hatred in three breathed words. And now that I’ve spoken them, my time here is up. I’m ready to face death head-on. I’m ready to see my Ember.

  My phoneband starts blinking. Seeing Isaac’s name, I switch it on and clear my throat. “That was quick.”

  “I contacted President Mason. He’s sending help now, and they should be there within the hour.” He laughs. “You’re one lucky jackal, Turner. At least one good thing can come out of us returning to Ky, apart from rescuing the plagued.”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “We can finish the business you failed to execute.” He shuts off, and I stare at the fading screen of my phoneband, his last words ringi
ng in my ears. I look at Aurora. She lifts a brow, waiting for the news.

  “Indy is sending help.”

  She closes her eyes in obvious relief. “Thank God.”

  “I wouldn’t be thanking God just yet, vixen.”

  “Why not?”

  “He said they can finish the business I failed to execute. I have reason to believe, based on Isaac’s determination to have you assassinated, he means they will kill you themselves when they arrive.”

  The blood drains from her face. She looks at her hands, gives a brief shake of her head, then lifts her chin and, ah, there’s the chief I know. “We’ll focus on saving our people, and deal with whatever Indy has to say after. Come. We need to tell the others.”

  She turns, but I grab her arm.

  “There might not be a later for you, Chief.” Her brows flicker, and she tenses. I realize how threatening I sound right now, and release her. Will she ever fully trust me? Probably not. Not that I deserve her trust after trying to kill her multiple times.

  “Look,” I say. “After the chaos of fighting off the plagued, whoever is in charge of the mission—probably Isaac—is going to want to meet with us. And he’ll, no doubt, try to have you killed at first sight. You need to go hide in your mansion, or somewhere less obvious. You need to trust me and the other politicians to do the talking.”

  She narrows her eyes. “Sounds like a trap to me.”

  “On my part? I’m trying to help you. You can run now, and I’ll never know where you went. I just want you safe.”

  She shakes her head. “You want me to hide in the moment the country needs me most? That’s the worst sign of cowardice. If I didn’t know any better, I would almost think you’re trying to give the Resurgence more reason to hate me.”

  She turns and strides back inside. Despite the jab in her words, I think I might admire her more, both for her blunt honesty and her sharp mind. Even I wouldn’t have seen through that trap—had it been one. I follow her inside, up the stairs, into the meeting room.

  And stop.

  The look of pure horror is plastered on every politicians’ face while they stare at the TV. I look at the TV screen, and now I know why.

  The diseased have crossed the cupola into Frankfort.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  RAIN

  Apprehension slithers up my spine. I can’t breathe. Can’t swallow. My body has frozen in place, hit the pause button so my brain can absorb what I’m seeing on the screen.

  It’s a disaster.

  Chaos.

  A riot of diseased, rabid zombies.

  Vendors and citizens are racing down the street, the pale corpses of the plagued stumbling after them. For an instant, the white eyes of Chale flash through my mind. The way he swung at me, the way he carelessly threw his body at Aurora, and I shudder. What is it that compels these diseased to attack? The noise we make? Their hearing is so sensitive that they just want the noise to stop? Or is it a hunger, like those zombies I’ve heard stories about?

  Either way, their minds are completely gone. On the screen, I see them attacking people, twisting their limbs in unnatural angles, and even snapping the necks of others. Aurora gasps and covers her mouth. Mcallister shakes his head, all hope gone out of his eyes. We’ve gotta do something now.

  “Well,” Father says, looking bored despite the bloodbath on the screen. “At least the Patricians are safe. We had the real antitoxin, and so can’t get the plague.”

  Aurora looks like she could murder Father with her bare hands.

  “Don’t you understand, Father?” I ask, knowing only I could reason with his diplomatic mind. “It doesn’t matter at this point. It’s not the disease that’s a hazard. The plagued are mindless, strong, and dangerous. And with numbers like those, they could easily overpower and take down Frankfort.” I shrug. “We won’t die by the disease. We will die by the diseased.”

  “Not with Defenders like ours,” Father says, undeterred.

  “Ours?” Mother asks, acting just as cool as Father. This sounds like their typical arguments at home, the few times Mother was actually present. Diplomatic. Professional. Sometimes I would wish they’d just break down and scream at each other, shed some tears, then hug and make up. It never happened like that.

  Ever.

  “Our Defenders,” Mother continues. “Aren’t vaccinated. And how long do you think they could hold against half the country, Thomas? The manmade barricade lasted less than forty-eight hours. We need help. Or we need to evacuate.”

  “Help is on the way,” Aurora says. “Rain just spoke to the Indy Tribe.”

  “Yeah,” I say. “They should be here in an hour or two with the antitoxin.”

  “Ah,” Father says. “See? No reason to fret. No way those diseased are going to make it here in an hour.”

  “But people are dying right now,” I shout.

  Just then, gunshots sound down the road. They’re quickly approaching.

  Too quickly.

  Almost like they were programmed to take over the capitol building.

  I drag my hand down the length of my face. I haven’t felt panicked often, but right now, my heart is pounding and my thoughts are a shooting in a hundred different directions, and my hands actually begin to tremble.

  “So what’s your plan, Father?” I ask. “You’re just going to watch your own people die? Your fellow Patricians?” I spit the last word out. Father nods. Unbelievable. The other politicians look from me to father, then to Aurora, like they don’t know what the shoddy rot to do. Stay and wait for help, go fight of our fellow men, or jump ship.

  “Well,” I say, disgusted. “Isn’t this pathetic. James? Give me the code to the ammunition room. I’m going out to fight for my people.”

  “But, Rain, if Defenders can’t overpower them, what makes you think you’ll be able to?” Aurora asks.

  I look at her, surprised by her sudden concern for me. “One more hand will help. If I save one citizen’s life, then I will have done my job.” I shake my head, the reality of what I’m about to do hitting me, but it only makes my determination stronger. I’ve done what I needed to do here, and Ember’s calling my name from the other side. “I’ve spend the past three years trying to fix Ky. I’m not giving up on her now.”

  She nods in understanding. “The code for the ammunition room is 1-3-4-2. Stock up. Take whatever you can carry.”

  I nod at Mcallister. “You coming?” I wink. “Just like old times.”

  He shakes his head. “My place is by my chief’s side.” Aurora looks at him in surprise, but he keeps his eyes on me.

  Yup. He’s clearly fallen hard for her. Funny thing is, I have no problem with it anymore.

  “I will, however, send all my best Defenders with you,” Mcallister continues. “The ones who aren’t already out there, that is.”

  “Great. Keep home base safe. I’ll see you on the other side.” Whirling around, I step out of the room to the armory.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  RAIN

  After stuffing my belt full of handguns and daggers and even a few grenades, and letting the Defenders armor themselves up—complete with masks to keep the airborne disease out of their systems—we head out of the capitol building. I never wanted to be a Captain of Defenders, but now I lead with pride. Because I’m not training them to fight their own men. I’m leading them to save their country.

  I just wish they were mind-clear enough to make their own shoddy decisions.

  The familiar rush of adventure flows through my veins as we trek down the street toward the sound of screaming and gunshots.

  I always loved the adrenaline of danger. It was especially fun with Ember by my side. Like when we spray-painted the wall, and when we attended those picnics with her disguised as Flame-girl. But then I remember leaving her off in that meeting with Titus. The fear in her eyes tore my heart open. Little did I know she would return with Aurora as her prisoner. The thought brings
a smile to my face. My Ember. Tough as nails. And just as sharp. But it was because she brought Aurora that she got killed. That thought wipes the grin off my face.

  The screams are louder now. They echo through the streets, eerie, horrifying, some of them choking off mid-scream. Cars shoot down the street, escaping the zombie-pocalypse behind them. My stomach writhes and turns. I might die tonight. Holy Crawford, these might be my last few hours of life. The realization is like a slap to my face.

  But what is life now, anyway? Since Ember’s death, it’s been empty. Meaningless. Ember was my future, and without her, I’ve got nothing left to live for. The ache of her absence swells in my chest, opening up the chasm that I try so hard to close. But there will be no closing it now. I allow the chasm to open. I allow the grief, the despair, to flow into my bloodstream. It spurs me on. It pushes me toward my death sentence. I count down the minutes while thanking God that my life won’t be lost in vain, but in an attempt to save Ky.

  I’m going to die soon.

  And Ember will be waiting for me in the afterlife—assuming there is one.

  The thought of possibly seeing Ember renews my adrenaline. I break into a sprint. Ahead, chaos ensues. A fire blows up in the park, and I briefly wonder if it’s the citizens trying to fight off the diseased, or an accident, but it’s spreading way out of control now. The infected outnumber the non-infected by an innumerable amount.

  It’s anarchy.

  I arrive at the park and order the Defenders to line up. I pull out a gun and shoot every white being in my line of vision, the Defenders following suit.

  “Remember to aim for the heads,” I shout at them. I know a cure is coming, but if ten people die by one plague victim, then taking down the victim is the better option. Besides, I’m not even sure if a cure will work on them. This is a new strain of the White Plague. It might not even be curable. “Disperse and fire at will!”