by India Arden
The room felt surreal, somehow artificial, and lifelessly sterile. Not a single object it contained had been chosen with me in mind. It was more set dressing than the flimsy news desk back at the studio. And it was uglier than a flaming dumpster.
The gun Ember gave me was gone, but I wasn’t handcuffed to the bed. If I had been, maybe I could have told myself that it was all a bad dream, and that any moment, I’d wake up. But when I crept over to the unobtrusive door that led to the servants’ passages and found its hinges were now melted metal globs, I knew I was indeed in the middle of a nightmare. And I was fully awake.
Just like the morning of the Transfiguration, I found an outfit laid out for me. Bright red dress, high-heeled shoes impossible to run in, and a necklace sparkling with garnets. Not my mother’s necklace, but some hideous imposter. As if dressing up in the colors of Fire could reintegrate me into this family. As if anything could ever be the same again.
If I’d thought it would do any good, I would have wadded up that repulsive dress and stuffed it down the toilet. Beat the necklace against the tile wall until it exploded in a rain of garnets. But the fire in me was gone now, snuffed by the reality that I was well and truly trapped, and the only way out was as bleak as it was permanent.
Was this how my mother felt when she climbed those steps to the clocktower?
I had folded to the floor, knees up against my chest, staring at the horrible dress without even seeing it, just a smear of red, the color of violence, when I heard my bedroom door open. I didn’t bother looking. What did it matter? It wasn’t as if there was anyone there I wanted to see.
Unfortunately, there was one person I dreaded more than any other, and he was the one who joined me.
Gus crouched beside me. I refused to look at him, but out of the corner of my eye, I could see an arcane sigil glowing at the deep vee of his half-open shirt. He reached over and hooked a lock of my hair, stroking it between his thumb and forefinger, as if to demonstrate I was his to touch as he wished. “So…you’re awake.”
I didn’t answer.
“Aren’t you going to ask me what happened back there at the TV station?”
I stared straight ahead.
“It’s a great story,” he said, sing-songing his voice in a way that made me shudder. “No? Fine…you’ve always acted like you were too good for any of us, so prepare to learn the error of your ways. Not only have your brother, Chad and I all successfully Transfigured—Blaze, Chasm and Gust, thank you very much—but we’ve fully Bonded.”
“I have no idea what that means,” I lied.
“It means we’re unstoppable.” He dropped the lock of hair he’d been pawing. “Masters of not only the elements, but time and space. And here’s the most amazing part…your father and his senile old Tetrad need a special relic to Bond—those stupid collars they wear? Yeah, those. But I’m part of the next generation—a whole new class of Arcane Masters—and we’re so powerful, we Bonded with nothing but the strength of our own potency. Do you know how hard that makes me?” He leaned in to take a whiff of my hair…and then recoiled.
“You nasty whore,” he muttered, not entirely disgusted, either. Maybe even intrigued by the thought of me being despoiled. “You reek of their seed.” But I’d cleaned myself up the best I could, back at the hideout. “Not just one filthy Rebel…but two.”
Ugh. He wasn’t sniffing around with his mundane senses. He could taste the air, and it was telling him all my secrets.
“Whoever it was, they’ve done me a solid. Nothing worse than training a virgin. All that weeping and cringing is so phenomenally tedious.” He brushed a moist kiss across the side of my neck. I shied away, which he pointedly ignored. “Anyway, good thing they didn’t have you long enough to stretch you out. Although I’m sure I’d manage to figure out which of your holes is still a decently tight fuck.”
Through clenched teeth, I said, “Get. Out.”
“So glad we could have this little chat. It’s been unexpectedly enlightening.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down my cheek in a gross parody of actual affection, then stood up and brushed off his knees. “Now get dressed and join us in the courtyard, or we’ll have security dress you—and that’ll just make everyone uncomfortable. So be a good little girl and do as you’re told.” He looked down at me with the smugness of someone who’s already won. “I’ll send in a maid.”
His footsteps receded, and I was alone. I didn’t cry. My despair went beyond tears. I shucked off the utilitarian underwear Rain had dug out of the clothing bins for me, sporty cotton panties that came in plastic muti-packs, and picked up the wisp of silky underwear waiting beside my dress. The feel of the fabric repulsed me, like everything else in the compound. Once I pulled them up, I ran my fingers down my belly to see if there really were any physical traces left behind from what I’d done last night. Nothing. My single heady encounter with Zephyr and Rain might as well have been a dream.
A maid slipped into the room—not through the door she would have normally used, since it was essentially welded shut, but through the main door. She was only a few years older than me, lanky and thin. I didn’t recognize her. Then again, I hadn’t taken the chance to get to know anyone on staff back when I lived at the compound. I’d told myself it was because the staff were all afraid…. But realistically, the blame was on me. I could’ve reached out. But instead I chose to see myself as isolated and alone. The woman didn’t meet my eye as she drew a bath. And when I thanked her, she murmured, “It’s nothing, Miss,” in a small, soft voice, then averted her eyes in such a way as to discourage any more direct interaction.
After days of squatting in an abandoned warehouse, the luxurious bath should have felt divine. I felt nothing other than a sense of loss. The woman hovered respectfully out of view behind a changing screen, though I occasionally heard a quiet shuffle as she shifted her stance.
“Listen,” I told her. “I know the Arcane Masters are scary—if anyone knows what they’re capable of, it’s me. And I know I’ve never given you any reason to put yourself on the line, and drawing attention to yourself feels risky. But, please, I have no one else to turn to, and I’m running out of time. If you could get a message to my father—that’s all, just a message—and let him know I really need to talk to him… Well, I’m obviously not in a position to make any promises, and I’ve got nothing to offer. But you’re my last hope.”
Silence.
What did I expect? I spent my life pretending the workers were invisible. I could hardly expect them to know how much the past few days had changed me. The water in the tub rippled, a tiny tremor of concentric rings. I stared at it for a moment before I realized a tear I’d been holding back had escaped me. I knuckled my eyes before any more could follow. What use was crying?
It took me a moment to realize I was alone. As always, the staff had their way of remaining outstandingly unobtrusive.
The nausea of being dragged through the Otherwise had started to ebb, leaving behind a wash of hollow despair. I dried off and approached the clothes. I moved stiffly, stepping into a dress the color of fresh blood, clasping the false necklace around my throat. And all the while, I longed for the yoga pants with their uneven hem and my T-shirt with its snags. Of course they were gone, as if getting rid of them would convince me the last few days hadn’t actually occurred. I was pulling on the high-heeled pumps, despondently acknowledging that it didn’t matter whether or not I’d be able to run in them if there was nowhere to go, when my bedroom door opened. No knock. And why bother with the pretense of privacy—the illusion that I was anything less than a captive had been well and truly shattered.
But when I turned and saw who it was, a sudden and startling hope filled my chest. Because it wasn’t Gust returning to leer at me, or my brother to chew me out, but my father. And he’d actually walked all this way to come and see his daughter—to see me. And if he’d come all this way, maybe there was some hope of him finally listening to me.
“Aurora,” he s
aid gravely, and before I knew it I was rushing across the room, shaky heels clicking against the marble floor.
“Dad!” I threw my arms around him like I was a little girl. Good thing I didn’t have on my makeup yet. The tears I’ve been holding at bay since I woke up back in my old bed flowed freely now, wetting my cheeks, dampening my father’s suit coat. “Dad, listen, you have to be careful. Blaze is dangerous. And his extractor isn’t just some accelerated version of the distiller—”
“Aurora—”
“It sucks the Arcana right out, drains a Master’s life force.”
“Aurora, stop—”
“I saw it happen, Dad. I swear, I was right there—”
“Aurora!” he barked. And it was then, with a sick pang of dread, that I realized he hadn’t come to comfort me. Not at all. And that Blaze hadn’t shielded him from grisly details—he was already perfectly aware of the way the extractor worked. “Now, you listen to me, young lady, and you listen closely. Fathom was already as good as dead. He’d only been holding on to see one last Transfiguration. Everyone knows it. So, whatever it was you thought you saw, banish it from your mind.”
“Blake is dangerous—how can you not see that?”
“Your brother’s creation will be the greatest gift to humanity since the invention of The Great Machine. And it starts by presenting the world with proof of exactly how powerful it is.”
“Not powerful—lethal. There are two Fire Masters, Dad. Think about that for second.”
“Indeed, I have. This is a historic moment. We’re two Masters away from two full Arcane Tetrads.”
“But where do you think the Arcanum will come from? From the source, derived.”
“Aurora,” he said, with waning patience. “Blaze has assured me there will be plenty of Arcanum for the next Transfiguration, and frankly, this childish display of envy has grown tiresome.”
“Envy?”
“Rest assured, you have a role to play in all of this. You’re my legacy.”
“I don’t envy him. I’m afraid of him. Afraid for both of us.”
He rambled on as if he hadn’t heard a word I said. Maybe he hadn’t. Maybe he never had. “I’ve always been disappointed in your mother for wasting such potential. Imagine, my joy upon hearing she’d conceived being hampered by the birth of a female child. And yet, now that matters have fallen into place, I have to wonder if perhaps things have played out in the best way possible. Yes, it will take time to rear a legacy old enough to withstand the Arcanum, but you’re in prime health to get started now. Space the births fourteen, sixteen months apart, and in two decades, our family will not only rule the city, but begin seeking out territory to annex.”
“I’m not your breeding stock,” I whispered.
“You are what I say you are,” he told me calmly. “I made you, and I decide. Do it willingly, or do it chained to the bedpost. Makes no difference to me. I’m simply relieved you’re not useless after all.”
When he turned and limped away, I didn’t stop him. I was too devastated. Too numb. It was the maid who finally broke the silence. “Miss?” I looked at her, searching her eyes for some glimmer of hope, however unlikely. Anything to cling to. Anything at all. She dropped her gaze to the curling iron and said, “We’d better start your hair. The less you give them to be angry about, the easier it will be. And eventually…you get used it.”
I wasn’t so sure. The tiny glimmer of freedom I’d experienced?
How could I ever possibly forget?
32
EMBER
Never underestimate your enemy.
As the PKTV studio erupted in panic, Sterling and I reached Rain and Zephyr in just a few seconds. But the delay was enough for the Masters’ plans to unfold…with the precision of an army swooping in to slaughter a village of women and children. While Strike distracted us, a full Tetrad surrounded Aurora, Bonded and disappeared, dragging her right along with them. Desperate to follow, I grabbed Rain’s arm with one hand and Sterling’s with the other, but it was no use. I could tell before we even made the effort. The Bonding simply wasn’t there, and no amount of hoping or wishing on our part would force it to happen. I turned to Sterling to see if he felt it too, and he shook his head grimly.
With manufactured encouragement, I pulled the guys away from the nightmarish figure of the reigning Air Master so we could lose ourselves in the crowd and regroup. Rain and Zephyr were dragged off first, caught in a cluster of panicked cameramen, and then a security guard rushing toward Tiana jostled Sterling’s arm from my grasp.
Is this how it ends?
I’d come into this world alone. It should be no surprise to leave it that way. Despair rose up inside me, the overwhelming fear that not only had my whole life been a sham based solely on hubris and a few lofty ideals, but the dismay that in my ignorance, I’d dragged down four good people with me. And that wasn’t even counting the numerous others like Lucas, people who might not be able to ditch their jobs and families and live in a looted department store, but who were willing to act as our eyes and ears and keep us plugged into the city when we couldn’t be there ourselves.
How many in that wider circle would I ruin as well?
“Edward,” someone called—for the second or third time, I realized, since I no longer resonated with that name—and found Lucas gesturing toward an open door with a red “exit” sign lit above it. “Come on.”
He hustled me out of the studio into a thin screen of shrubs on the side of the building that faced the back of a mostly-vacant strip mall. “I didn’t know this was a setup,” he said breathlessly, as I staggered outside into an eerie pocket of calm. “I swear.”
When I looked into his panicked eyes, I believed him. We clasped hands briefly, and I slipped off into the scraggly brush, borrowed a nearby hatchback, and drove away.
In the event we found ourselves separated, the Rebels had a plan in place. A number of public rendezvous points throughout the city. The closest spot was a 24-hour laundromat with a bank of illegal slot machines in back, where leathery old men chewing on unlit stubs of cigars relieved themselves of their Social Security checks every month. Business varied. Some days it was brisk, some days practically deserted. When I stepped into the humid storefront and the cloying scent of fabric softener washed over me, my heart sank. I was the only Rebel there. Just me.
Having Aurora torn away from us was bad enough. But living without the rest of the Rebels? Faced with the very real possibility that I was the only one who made it out, I was at a total loss. We’d grown up together. I knew them better than I knew my own flesh and blood. And I simply couldn’t imagine a life without them in it.
A laundry cart hung thickly with linens interrupted my panic with the creak of a protesting wheel. An exhausted woman dragged it toward the folding tables. It was the most mundane thing in the world. And yet, the most dramatic…as it pulled back like a curtain to reveal three guys huddled together on a bench at the far wall, whispering furiously beneath a sign that read USE MACHINES AT YOUR OWN RISK - MANAGEMENT ASSUMES NO RESPONSIBILITY.
Three Rebels.
They looked up as I strode over to them, each of them grim with determination. “I’m getting Aurora back,” Zephyr declared. “It’s my fault they grabbed her. If I hadn’t let them distract me—”
“It’s nobody’s fault,” I said firmly. “There were five of them and four of us.”
Sterling cocked his head as if he might challenge me—after all, Aurora was one of us too, and he loves to second-guess me—but instead he let it go, and said, “Let’s find somewhere more private to hash out a better plan than barging into the Arcane Masters’ compound and getting ourselves killed.”
He led us through a door plastered with STAFF ONLY signs in English, Spanish, Korean and Polish, past the gaggle of old men playing slots, and through a room that was even more humid than the storefront with its steamed up windows. The washers and dryers in back were even bigger and more forbidding, and a group of Asian girls lin
ed both sides of a broad work table, folding strangers’ laundry as they conversed in their own language. They looked up as we passed—pink cheeked, with tendrils of black hair clinging to their damp foreheads. One of them broke into a grin of recognition, the one with thick, smudged eyeliner and a pierced septum—the one who’d dated Sterling off and on for a surprisingly long time, considering the fact that they could barely hold a conversation.
Good thing they’d ended on friendly terms. No one tried to stop us. And hopefully, no one would tip off the cops.
I’d worried that moving our whole operation was overkill, but now it seemed like we’d made the right call. We found a minivan with the passenger visor down, climbed in, and headed off. The trek to the new location had us all antsy, jumping at shadows. And maybe that was a good thing. Maybe if we hadn’t been so complacent—so reckless—Aurora would still be with us.
Those bastards. If they laid so much as a hand on her….
“Whoa,” Sterling said.
The center console had grown soft where I was gripping the arm rest. It put off the smell of burning plastic. Zephyr cracked a window and coaxed the stink out of the van.
Sterling licked his thumb and tried to scrub away a scorch mark, with no luck. “Look, we’re all freaking out. But save your juju for the rescue.”
We settled in an old pumping station on the edge of town, where massive motors coaxed water up from wells that had wet Corona since the city was founded. It was about as inhospitable a place to squat as you could think of. The building was the size of a fast food restaurant, all concrete and iron, and filled with heavy equipment. The air was thick with the loud, constant hum of rotors churning up groundwater, and we had to raise our voices to hear each other above the machinery. But it was warm and secluded. The massive motor columns gave us plenty of places to hide, and a handy chart hanging by the door let us know exactly when to expect the next visit from a utility crew.