by CM Raymond
His face flushed red again. Gregory wasn’t like the other students. He was raised among the nobles, but somehow didn’t pick up their cruelty. Nevertheless, he was still taught to believe certain things as the Patriarch’s-honest truth—including a view of the Unlawfuls.
“That’s what everyone says.”
Hannah shrugged. “Sorry. I’m definitely not from around here. Where I was from, magic wasn’t so restricted. People had a bit more freedom. Apart from how much money we have, what makes them any different from us?”
“Well, we can control it. They can’t,” he said. “The restriction is for their own good. People used to blow themselves up and shit when Adrien didn’t control the users. He’s just trying to keep everybody safe.”
Hannah had to fight to keep her anger down. She had seen Adrien’s vision of keeping people safe.
“How do you know they can’t control it? I mean, do you really think it’s fair that someone like Violet is allowed to use magic—just because her parents are rich, but some poor father trying to provide for his family can’t, only because he was born on a dirty street? And no offense, being born a noble doesn’t automatically mean you can control it. You of all people should know that.”
Gregory’s face flushed, and he looked down at his shoes. Hannah cursed herself. That was a low blow, and she knew it. Now, she probably offended the only friend she had here.
“Look,” she said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. That was a pretty nice clay goat you made.”
“Cat. It was a cat.” Gregory smiled. “It’s OK. You were right anyways. I know I’m not a great magic user. And people like Violet are jerks. But the law is the law, right? I’m sure Adrien has a good reason for it.”
“Oh, there’s a reason for it, but it’s not a good one.”
He gave her a strange look. “What do you mean?”
She cursed herself again. All the magical power in the world couldn’t help her keep her damned mouth shut. But before she was forced to make up some lie about what she really meant, a crowd of people caught her eye.
They were quickly moving down the street, and they were all dressed in coarse, white robes.
“Holy shit,” Gregory said. He pushed Hannah back off the street and stood in front of her as the angry crowd passed. She thought it was sweet that this rich kid was trying to protect her—sweet, but stupid.
“Who the hell were they?” Hannah asked, this time with unfeigned confusion. There was no one like that in Arcadia last time she was in the city.”
Gregory kept his wide eyes locked onto them as they moved past. His face had turned white. “They’re disciples of the Prophet. I’ve heard rumors that they have been patrolling the streets, trying to find Unlawfuls. But I didn’t expect to see them up here. Damn, did you see how angry they looked? And those clubs they were carrying. That was scary shit.”
Hannah grabbed her new friend by the shoulders and forced him to face her. “Gregory, what do you mean they’re searching for Unlawfuls? What would they do if they found one?” She asked the question, terrified because she already knew the answer.
“Punishment,” he said. More color drained from his face.
She turned back toward the mob, and for a brief second, she caught a glimpse of what they were heading toward. Two figures limped across the street and into an ally. The disciples let out a roar and followed after.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Parker did all that he could to keep up with the rearick’s quick short strides. About a foot taller than the guy, Parker limped at full speed as they wove through the noble district. He caught that his name was Karl, and it was clear the rearick was some kind of badass. But Parker pushed those questions out of his head. He had only one goal, to make sure his mother was safe.
After escaping the factory, Karl led Parker straight to his house. The darkness was thick on the Boulevard, and almost no one was out.
Relief turned to fear when Parker entered his house and saw that his mother was nowhere to be found. It wasn’t like her to take risks like being out after curfew, and Parker couldn’t help but feel like something terrible was afoot.
His fear was alleviated when a neighbor came and told him that she had taken a job keeping house for some nobleman. The neighbor had passed along the address, and Parker and his new stout friend were on their way to the rich part of the city—the lion's den.
“I’ve gotcha, kid. Hold it together,” the rearick said through huffs.
Parker wanted to respond, to assure the rearick that he was fine, but most of his energy was focused on staying conscious. His chest burned like a mother, and his arms and shoulder ached. It felt like they had walked to the Heights and back, even though it had only been a few blocks.
They tried to stick to the shadows, but as they moved into the noble district, their cover became less effective. He had no choice but to proceed.
As they came around a corner, Parker and Karl were stopped in their tracks by a large crowd.
They were dressed in the Prophet’s colors, and each of them held a solid wooden club.
Parker locked eyes with a woman around his own age. She stood in front of them all and was giving some sort of motivational speech about the virtues of the Prophet and the return of the Matriarch and Patriarch.
Shit burger, he thought.
It was Jez, the woman who was once a childhood friend and had nearly taken him out just before he went to work in the factory.
A grin spread across her face just before she screamed. “Unlawfuls!”
“We gotta go,” Parker whispered. “Run!”
The rearick responded, nearly picking up Parker and heading for the nearest alley. Limping as fast as he could, he looked for cover—or some building to escape into. Parker knew the Boulevard like the back of his hand, but in the Noble District, they were running blind.
“Let me go, rearick. Save yourself,” Parker grunted.
His new companion gripped him tighter. “That is not the way, lowlander. I’ve promised to protect you, and I’m gonna do that. Or die trying.”
Turning another corner, the rearick shouted as he looked around. “Scheisse! It’s a dead end.”
A solid wall stood before them, and the religious zealots were on them before they could turn and run the other way. The angry mob blocked their exit. The rearick leaned Parker against the wall and unslung his hammer. “Stay back, lad,” Karl grunted as he swung his weapon forward. “My hammer has grown hungry for heretics, and it looks like it will be satisfied this night.”
Jez stood at the front of the group, a crude club in her hand. A half-dozen others held pitchforks, sticks, and knives. She pointed at Parker. “Looks like our work is half-done for us. The Unlawful is already on his last leg.” Her eyes turned to the rearick. “Step aside foreigner and let us do our duty. The gods have called us to cleanse this land of the unworthy. Would you really try and stand in between that criminal and the gods’ justice?”
The rearick’s knuckles got white as he gripped his hammer. “Honesty, I don’t even know the lad. But if you try to lay a hand on him, me and my hammer will send you to meet your gods with haste. Get the fuck out of here. Now!”
Jez laughed. “We have been blessed, little one. The gods are with us! No weapon of man can stand against us. The Unlawfuls must die!”
As Jez spoke, she raised her club into the air. But just as she was about to attack, a confident voice cut through the alley. It was coming from behind the disciples. “You’re looking for Unlawfuls? Well, it’s your lucky night, you ugly-assed douche nuggets.”
The swarm of disciples split down the center, and through the middle of them, Parker saw the woman. She was strong, dressed in noble garb, with strawberry blond hair, and eyes glowing red like fire.
Even in her disguise, Parker could pick out his friend anywhere.
He smiled, knowing the hell that Hannah was about to unleash on the unholy disciples.
****
Karl had spen
t most of his life with a weapon in his hands. He had seen his fair share of bloodshed. But to call what he witnessed tonight anything but a slaughter would be underselling it.
Karl didn’t recognize the pretty noble that was staring down this group of zealots. But the red in her eyes was a sight he was becoming very familiar with. And he was ready for the display of power that came with it.
The leader of the disciples jumped to action immediately. “It’s her!” She yelled. “It’s the bitch from the boulevard. Get her!”
A dozen or so religious fanatics charged Hannah with their homemade weapons. But the woman was more right than she knew—no weapon of man could stand against the power of the gods.
Hannah turned her hands and raised them high like she was instructing a class of students to rise from their desks. But as she did it, a large chunk of stone broke loose from the ground in front of her. Before the disciples made it two steps, Hannah sent the missile hurtling into their midst.
It crushed two of them beyond recognition.
But the disciples were undeterred. Karl knew the look of murder in someone’s eyes—there would be no reasoning with them.
So, he decided to let his hammer do the talking.
With a yell, he lowered his shoulder and rushed into the crowd.
A young man turned to face him, raising a gardening hoe like it was a spear. Karl’s hammer splintered the homemade weapon before splintering the man’s ribcage.
He let his momentum carry him forward, swinging his hammer wildly—but also with perfect precision. Anyone foolish enough to stand against him didn’t remain standing for long.
Despite the chaos of the fight, Karl never lost sight of Hannah. She threw his old knife, and he watched it sink into a woman’s stomach. Before the woman hit the ground, Hannah twisted her wrist and the knife flew back into her hands to be used again.
Karl smiled. He hadn’t had this much fun in years.
****
Hannah looked around the alley as the haze cleared from her eyes. In front of her, standing amidst a dozen broken bodies was an old rearick. He was beaming from cheek to cheek.
“Ah, lass!” He said giving her a nod. “Is this some cruel joke? At this rate, I’ll never pay back the debt I owe you.” He chuckled, “You’ve got to stop saving my life.”
She smiled. “Over my dead body, Karl. Now, what the hell were you doing picking a fight with a bunch of the choir boys?”
Karl shrugged. “I guess they didn’t like my charming personality. Or my taste in friends.”
He turned and looked down the alley, and Hannah followed his gaze. There, trying to lean against the wall was her oldest friend.
“Parker!” She yelled. Abandoning any thought about Karl, the disciples, or even her mission, Hannah ran to her friend’s side. His right eye was swollen over and there were bleeding sores all over his body.
“Hey,” Parker muttered. “Nice outfit.” He tried to smile, but his face barely moved.
“What the bloody hell happened to you?” Hannah said as she leaned over him, gently hugging his body.
Parker closed his eyes. “Occupational hazard. I’ll fill you in when I feel better—in about a year.” He tried to stand up straight but collapsed into a coughing fit. Hannah saw blood on his hands.
She glanced over her shoulder at the rearick. “Karl, we have to get him back to the Boulevard, now. I have a friend there, Miranda, she’ll be able to help him”
Parker coughed, blood mixed with saliva spilling out onto his lips. “Can’t. Miranda is dead… she…” His words trail off into the night.
“What? Miranda? How?”
Parker’s eyes are barely open. “Murdered by the disciples. They hung her up—a spectacle.”
Anger and rage rushed through Hannah’s body, and she could feel the power inside of her start to take over again. Miranda had been a friend since her birth—nearly a second mother, and now she was gone. Hannah wished that the disciples were still alive so that she could kill them all over again.
She looked down at her friend. “Well, we need to get you inside, and off the street. If we don’t get you to someone fast, you’ll die.”
****
Gregory ran down the alley, his chest burning from the exertion. One minute he was walking around town with the prettiest girl that had ever spoken to him hanging on his arm. The next minute she was chasing after a group of religious nuts.
The change in his fortune was so startling that he stood frozen to the ground.
Once his thoughts caught up with him, he chased after her, praying that she wasn’t hurt.
As he sprinted around the corner, he nearly stumbled over a dead body. It was one of the disciples, and there was a large shard of ice sticking out of his back.
Gregory had never seen a dead body before, certainly not one that had been killed like this. He fought the urge to vomit. But as he looked up, he realized it wasn’t just one dead person. There were a dozen dead men and women, in varying states of destruction. Half of them were smoldering, smoke rising from their burned flesh. The other half looked like they had been trampled by wild horses.
And there in the midst of it was Deborah, the sweet nobleman’s daughter from the country, completely covered in blood.
Once again, his thoughts ran away from him.
It took him a minute to realize that the girl standing in front of him was no longer Deborah. Gone were her strawberry blonde curls—they had been replaced with long strands of straight hair the color of dark leather. Gone was any sense of flightiness or playfulness on her face. Instead, her face was grave, like a soldier before a fight.
“Deb... Deborah?” Gregory finally eeked out.
She turned to look at him, but before she could speak, an angry rearick jumped in front of her. He lifted a hammer above his head and Gregory saw his life pass before his eyes.
“Karl, wait. He’s with me.”
The rearick hesitated, then lowered the weapon to let Gregory pass.
“Deborah... what the hell is going on?” Gregory said as he stepped forward. He looked down and saw that she was kneeling overtop of a man who was clearly dying.
The man looked up at her and said, “Who the hell is Deborah?”
She looked back and forth between them, then said. “It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later, but for now, we need to get you to a healer.”
“We should go now, Hannah,” the rearick said. He had moved to stand watch at the entrance to the alley. She nodded toward the rearick, then looked back at Gregory.
“Deb, I—”
“My name’s not Deborah, it’s Hannah. And I’m not the daughter of a nobleman who’s visiting the city for the first time. I’ve lived here my whole life—in the Boulevard.”
Understanding slowly came to Gregory as her words sunk in. “You’re... you’re her, aren’t you? You’re the Unlawful that everyone’s been talking about.” He looked down at her bloodstained gown. “You killed all these people.”
“That’s right Gregory, and I’d do it again. Because this,” she pointed to the man on the ground, “is Adrien’s idea of safe. And good or bad, rich or poor, powerful or weak, it’s time we stood up to him. I know you have questions, and I’ll answer everything later, I swear. But for now, I need your help. My friend Parker is dying. You said you wanted to do good? To help people? Well, now’s your chance. Help me get him somewhere safe.”