Everything is starting to hurt; the pain grows exponentially with each passing moment. I keep hoping that my brain will give out so that I can sink into sweet nothingness. Standing thoughtfully at my side, Locket watches me grow pale from agony. He slowly leans over me.
“Let’s just get one thing straight,” he breathes. “I have never hated you.”
The pain ebbs for a blissful second. Ensnared by his intense gaze, I respond before thinking. “I’ve always hated you.”
“And you say you don’t have any common sense.”
Nyria’s voice over the intercom breaks our bizarrely intimate moment.
Pulling away, Locket lifts me into his arms again. The pain returns with ruthless cruelty. I try to block it out, but my body is insisting that I pay attention. Clutching at Locket’s shirt, I bury my head in his chest. His warmth is comforting. It’s all that stands between me and giving up.
A restoration bed is a lidless rectangular box that restores damaged tissue back to health. It has something to do with energy and how it interacts with living cells. I’m no Doctor or Scientist, but Jack used to work with them before he became a Criminal. His family wanted to shorten the time it takes for the bed to heal life-threatening injuries. Obviously, the worse the damage to a body the longer it takes to repair. Some people lie inside of these things for days. Putting someone in one for over twenty-four hours, however, is a risky move. According to Jack, the bed can eventually take over automatic functions, such as the heartbeat. If that happens, the patient goes into cardiac arrest when you take them out. There’s no way to reverse that side effect.
Locket carries me through the door into a small room. The restoration bed is calmly awaiting my arrival. Placing me in its warm interior, Locket flashes me a reassuring glance before stepping away. Nyria fastens small plastic loops around my forehead, wrists and ankles. She cuts the ruined portion of my shirt in half and tapes a warm, spicy smelling compound on my shattered ribs.
“You’re going to feel sick at first, but it won’t last. If you experience more intense pain than what you’ve already felt, press this button.” She slips something plastic into my hand and I feel the button under the tip of my thumb. “Otherwise, you just have to wait. You can fall asleep if you want to—I encourage it—but if you can’t we’ll be right here to keep you company. Ready?”
I love the way her voice wraps warmly around my frazzled nerves. If she would just keep talking I think I could fall asleep. I nod my head and my stomach suddenly flips. Grimacing, I wait for the nausea to pass; she wasn’t kidding about feeling sick. Beyond exhausted, I let my eyes drift closed. I don’t realize I’ve fallen asleep until voices penetrate my heavy slumber.
“Thanks for this,” I hear Locket say to Nyria.
She’s still too attracted to him not to sound awkward. “It’s not a problem.”
“I didn’t know what was going on until it was too late,” Locket continues. “If I’d been quicker I wouldn’t be bothering you for this kind of help.”
“For three years I kept hoping you’d make up a reason to come and see me. But even in the years we were together your mind was always somewhere else. I don’t know why I expected it to be any different when we were apart.” Her voice never rises but I can sense her bitterness. “You’re only here because you had no other choice, aren’t you?”
Locket doesn’t offer her any comfort. “Our worlds can’t mix. We knew that from the beginning.”
“Yes,” she agrees, deliberately calm, “we always knew that we couldn’t last. But you didn’t have to completely disappear when I was ordered to procreate.”
“I didn’t want to complicate your life. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to see you. And I did…more than I thought I would.”
The dense pause in their conversation makes me fidget. My right side doesn’t hurt anymore. When I look down at my body I notice that the blood has dried onto my clothes; the wounds from Orion’s knives have healed. A little embarrassed by my eavesdropping, I peek over the side of the box. The Doctor is leaning on the wall, staring at the floor. Locket gazes at her apologetically.
“Remember the time you told me that you were looking for the woman that you would move the stars for?” Nyria finally asks with a note of fear. “Will you move the stars for her?”
“I said that a long time ago,” Locket admits with a sheepish expression, “and I was trying to get laid.”
“People say things like that all the time. And then, one day, they meet the one. My brother told me that just before he moved to V Sector to be with Yvonne.”
“He sounds like a born romantic.”
“Not really,” Nyria returns. “My first born looks so much like him I almost feel like I have him back.”
“You should let me smuggle him here for a day,” Locket suggests. “That’s something I’ve always wanted to do for you.”
“And I tell you again and again that I won’t accept those kinds of gifts.”
He offers her a teasing smile. “You and your law abiding ways.”
I don’t want to interrupt but I can’t watch their little drama all day. “Um, how long have I been in here?”
Locket saunters over and peers down at me. “She turned it off about a half an hour ago. You should be good as new.”
I slowly sit up and look around the bare room. Locket’s right, there’s no pain and I feel energized. He offers me his hand but I ignore it as I crawl out of the bed. Tentatively touching my ribs I discover strange ridges on my skin.
“’Good as new’ never applies to any major injury,” Nyria says. “Your right side will always be more delicate now. You’ll see the scars when you find a mirror. That’s the price we pay for quicker healing.”
“I’m not going to complain,” I mutter, mystified by how good I feel.
“Jace will have to apply a compress to your ribs for the next month,” she continues. She hands bandages and a large jar of cream to Locket. “Your cells have been super-charged and most patients experience burning or itchiness, even scaling over the traumatized area. The compress will reduce the side-effects.”
I wave off the Locket suggestion. “I can do it on my own.”
“No, I’m afraid you can’t,” she insists. “Jace will have two hands to apply the compress, and he has the necessary training to identify complications. Otherwise you’d have to come back and see me every three or four days. From what I’ve gathered about your lifestyle you won’t have time for that.”
It’s hard for me to argue with Doctors. They always sound like they know way more than I do. But I have a good feeling about Nyria. She’s not lying to me about what’s going on. I glance unhappily at my unlikely hero.
“We should get out of here,” he says.
He hands me the bandages and jar. Next thing I know he’s pressed a small gadget to my neck. My body goes limp. He’s hit me with some kind of paralysis drug. Shocked, I fall unceremoniously into his waiting arms.
“Jace, what are you doing?” Nyria rushes to my side and checks my vitals.
“Trust me, it’s as much for her health as mine,” Locket says. I’m as floppy as a rag doll. My head rolls back and forth as he picks me up. “She doesn’t trust me. This is the only way I can get her where she’ll be safe without either of us getting hurt.”
I’d like to kick Locket’s ass, but all I can seem to do right now is blink menacingly. After a few seconds I can’t even do that anymore. Frustrated and angry I can only watch as Locket’s deadly serious expression silences Nyria’s protest. She picks the bandages and jar off the floor, puts them in a sack, and hands them to Locket.
“Luck,” she blesses.
Putting a hand on her heart and then touching mine she performs an old ritual to invoke inner power. As a small kindness she closes my eyes so that they won’t dry out.
I am now blind and paralyzed—completely at Locket’s mercy.
32
We’re in the dilapidated basement of a
n abandoned building. That fucking bastard has tied me to a fucking chair and he ties a wicked fucking knot.
Tucking the bottom of my shirt into my bra, he shoots me a wary look. “Just hold still. This will take longer than either of us wants if you keep struggling.”
I had no idea I could swallow this much fury. Staring daggers at my kidnapper, I do as he instructs. He opens the jar of medication and scoops out a liberal amount of yellow cream onto his fingers. Gently, but still watching me with one eye, he rubs it into the affected area of my skin. His blue gaze flickers over the burn scars on the left side of my stomach. A moment later his fingers brush over my stretch marks, my only external proof that I gave birth. His eyes narrow thoughtfully before he continues his ministrations.
“You’re a scaler,” he mutters under his breath, “but it’s better than surgery and weeks of recuperation.”
Pulling a bandage tight around my side he smoothes it over the cream and tapes it down. Amazed at his gentle but firm touch, I do my best not to enjoy his warmth. Healing hands—that’s what everyone would say he has if he wasn’t a killer.
He puts the jar and bandages into a bag. Hanging the beat-up leather over his shoulders, he disappears around a corner. Anxious about his plans I quickly get to work on the ropes.
These knots are amazing! I can hardly move my wrists. When I struggle the rope just gets tighter. Soon I’m going to lose all feeling in my fingers. If I wasn’t gagged I’d scream in frustration. As it is, all I can manage is a pathetic groan.
Locket returns with a towel slung around his neck. He wipes his face a few times and throws it to the side. Grabbing a worn out chair and placing it right in front of me, he sits down.
“We need to talk,” he says. I manage a huff of indignation through my gag. “Fine, I need to talk. You need to listen.
“You underestimated what Madman was willing to do to get you out of the way. I thought you were smarter than this; I thought you’d at least know to stay underground.”
He has no right to criticize me! Livid, I continue to struggle against the ropes. They’re biting into my flesh but I’m ignoring the pain. I want to tell him to fuck off, I want to smash a fist into his face and feel bones crunch under my knuckles.
“Jack should have dosed you like I suggested,” Locket continues, “but he didn’t want to betray your trust. He was skeptical even when Wulff explained about your little episodes. I should have told him that Madman is willing to cut off his right arm if it means taking you out. I made a mistake. Pay attention when I tell you this! He only ordered your termination; your crew is still safe. But if you’re seen within a block of Kentucky’s hideout, he’ll take them all out without a second thought. They won’t have a chance to run for cover.”
His words give me pause. Confident he has my attention, Locket removes my gag. I don’t struggle, I don’t scream, but I have to ask. “Why is Lyons so obsessed with me?”
“People are talking about you. They believe in you.”
“They’re fucking crazy,” I return.
Locket shrugs solemnly, “… the essence of faith. You’re a living Legend now and you only have yourself to blame.”
My eyes flash angrily; I hate it when my enemies are wiser than me. Made wretched from the truth I fight back my tears. “What am I going to do?”
“Leave that to me,” he answers. Producing a small knife from his boot, Locket leans over and cuts the ropes. He offers a hand to help me up. “I can get you back to your crew.”
Looking up at my unlikely champion, I finally surrender. My fingers slide into his strong, welcoming hand. He grips my palm firmly and one side of his mouth lifts up. Warmth creeps into his cool gaze and his sincere smile of assurance captivates me. Trusting Locket is making me feel safe. It’s a painful reminder that I’m the one who can’t be trusted.
“I’m a liability not a Legend.”
“That might be true,” Locket replies.
“Why are you helping me?”
He hesitates with his answer. Stepping closer, he studies my baffled expression. “Because I’m just as crazy as the rest of them. Follow me.”
Follow him? I’m not ready to go back. After what happened with the bounty hunters I can’t feel secure in a hideout. Before I return I need to guarantee that no one will ever lead the Cops to our door ever again. I’m going to keep the crew safe no matter what the cost.
“I saw Lily today,” I say
Locket’s expression hardens. He already knows what I’m going to do. “Sonora.”
“You know where she is. I’ll need a knife.”
“Only let the scavengers see you,” he charges under his breath. Reaching behind his back, he produces his blade. “She’s made a small home for herself in 12th block. It isn’t hard to find. I’ll be waiting.”
My hand wraps around the hilt of his knife. A surge of power rushes through my body as I envision Clarissa’s hair knotted around my fingers as I tear her head from her neck. She made a bad fucking mistake and now she’s going to pay for it.
33
12th block—I lived here with Ivana.
Scanning my old haunt, I note the same run-down buildings, the same monolithic slabs of cement that no one will ever bother to remove, the same twisted rebar sticking out of crumbling walls. This type of place is a haven for scavengers. It’s where they perpetuate the purest hierarchy. The stronger ones take whatever they want and live wherever they want. The weaker ones hoard what they can. When they die their bodies will be flung into collection bins. If anyone survives they graduate into street gangs. Only the strongest become Criminals.
Ivana and I were strong. We slept under the remains of a mechanics shop. It was cool in the heat and easy to defend. Those were interesting days, living moment to moment. I was happy if I had a full stomach. But Ivana was a victim of her own greed. I didn’t realize it back then, but her eye for all that glitters was a death sentence. It was only a matter of time.
Wrapped in a cloak, I listen to the rain run down the stiff leather. The City wasn’t designed for this kind of weather and water is gathering in the streets. Orphans race through the large pools, laughing and splashing, their voices rising happily. Today, they are children instead of scavengers. There’s room for everyone. Content to watch, I enjoy their antics.
Sonora is playfully wrestling with another orphan. Shouting and hollering, they drag each other into the water. The boy breaks free of Sonora’s hold but she tackles him once again. Screaming with excitement, they play a wild game that has no rules. Soaked through, they collapse happily into the water.
Their laughter wraps warmly around my heart. I think about Ivana, about the games we used to play when we had full stomachs, those times when we could find a small piece of happiness. It rips out my guts to know what I have to do. I am disgusted with Clarissa Tyler… Sonora. Watching her play with her friend makes it difficult to see her as little more than a child. She had a future; she could have gotten off the streets. But she destroyed her chances when she crossed me.
Hardening my heart, I step towards her.
The scavengers bristle at my intrusion; my presence reminds them of their grim reality, but they move out of my way. They know better than to take me on. Sonora isn’t aware of me yet. She’s still laughing, still shouting and playing. It isn’t until I put my arm around her neck that she stops smiling.
“We have an appointment,” I whisper into her ear.
Lifting her struggling form off the ground, I haul her into an abandoned building. Sick children snarl angrily before dragging themselves out of their makeshift beds. They’ll wait impatiently outside until it’s safe for them to return. To them, Sonora is already dead and they’re better off if she is—one less person to fight for food and shelter.
“I warned you I wasn’t a novice.” Throwing her against the crumbling wal,l I produce Locket’s knife. “You’ve sealed your own fate.”
“Daryl…I. Please—don’t.”
It’s hard not to se
e the girl standing in front of me, the ten year old with the innocent grey-green eyes. I’ve never killed anyone so much smaller than me and I can feel how wrong it is in every bone in my body. But I remember the crew lying wretchedly on the floor. I remember the bounty hunters preparing to haul them off to the Prison. I think about Wulff and Frenzy disappearing into that unspeakable place.
My fury takes over. Shaking with anger, I grab her hair and force her head back. The pulse in her throat throbs; her eyes are wide with fear. It reminds me of Ivana all those years ago. Locket’s hands around her head, the light going out of her eyes.
Sonora is too frightened to struggle. She’s so scared she’s making strange mewling sounds. The pathetic noise makes me hesitate with the killing blow. But then I remember the Prison—she’s the one who sent me back there.
That thought banishes my uncertainty. I place the knife against her throat. The sharp blade makes it too easy. I never noticed until now, what little effort is required to slice through flesh. Sonora’s life spills out of the wound, coating my hand and her chest with dark red blood. Thick with misery, I watch the life drain from her eyes. My own close involuntarily and tears spill down my cheeks.
Her body slumps to the floor and I tumble after it. Turning onto my back, I examine the cracks in the ceiling, the cement threatening to crash down. It will give soon. When it does it will take everyone with it.
34
There’s a veil between reality and me; I’m watching everything from under water. I don’t know how long I’ve been here but the tears are gone and I’m empty. Staring at Sonora’s corpse, the white face and unblinking eyes, I realize it’s over. She’s returned to the Origins and I’ve crossed a line I didn’t know existed.
The first time is never easy. It’s always a shock to the system, a sucker punch to the solar plexus. Everything goes white for a moment and you know that you’ve changed indefinitely. There’s no moving backwards; there’s no getting back to the way you were. I already know that I couldn’t let her live. Not in this lifetime, not in this world. This was about survival. You can’t let anybody cross you without making them pay. The moment Sonora helped Madman, she invited Death in the form of me and I curse her for it. I curse Lyons for involving a child.
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