There have always been whispers among the Upper Circle. Us girls were never meant to know. It was repeated often enough at parties, folded behind fans, that quiet-quiet girls like us were able to hear. Lukas Fox is the scariest man alive. I remember hearing this for the first time when Margot and I were maybe eight years old. He’d serve his mother’s organs for dinner if it would get him more power.
Blinking back a rush of tears, I reckon I can’t afford to cling to any illusions now: Lukas Fox will hunt us all down, one by one. He won’t let anyone survive. Not the True Borns. Not Margot, whispers that terrible voice. Surely not me.
The heavy, whirling buzz of a copter cuts through the mayhem. Choking on the smoke, I watch as it hovers over the building and begins a slow descent as bullets ring into the air like tiny firecrackers.
Jared flattens me onto the ground, his body my shield, just as Storm yells, “Get down.”
The scent of Jared suffocates me: the stale scent of Laster laundry soap, his cinnamon woodsy smell strong after such a long time on the run. But I feel safe. Utterly safe, though the world burns.
“You all right, Lu?” comes his anxious voice. He peers down at me, one eye popping green.
I elbow him in the ribs. “God, you’ll have to lose some weight if you’re going to keep falling on top of me like this, Jared True Born.” I don’t know what possesses me to joke at a time like this. But it works.
Jared grins, a lazy wicked grin. “If I’m going to keep falling on top of you, Lu?”
I snort. “Sometimes you’re so weird.”
“Yeah.” Jared’s gaze follows the curve of my cheek, my mouth, restlessly darting to look me square in the eyes. “But I’m your weird, Lu. All yours.”
I can hardly breathe suddenly, and it has nothing to do with his weight. “Jared,” I start. The heavy thud of Storm’s booted steps interrupts my train of thought.
“Come on.” Storm’s eyes glow mad with rage. “It’s time.”
The whine of the copter engine stops, and within seconds, the only sound is the crackling of fire. Storm walks to the edge of the refinery roof and gazes at the chaotic scene below. It’s as though the True Born leader sheds a skin, and all this time what I’ve known of Nolan Storm has been an illusion.
His form ripples. His thorny crown of bone swirls, and he pulses with power. When he speaks, he keeps his voice low. But still, the sky splits and peals with the sound of his low, gravelly voice.
“Fox. This is your last chance to do the right thing.”
My legs shake with exhaustion and fear. I’m not sure how long I can stand, though Jared keeps a watchful hand under my arm. The fire’s rippling fingers reach for the roof of the refinery. Burned sugar, sticky and cloying, overtakes even the reek of burning wood and paint and metal. There’s no way we’re getting out of here unless it’s by copter.
And we’re surrounded by flames, and by blank-faced soldiers and tanks.
By a madman.
“Give up, Storm. You’re surrounded.”
“Naw.” Storm gives my father a cocky grin. “You are.”
Storm tosses his bony crown and brings one foot down in an elegant stomp. It crashes like thunder, the boom resonating not just here on the roof. I can hear it down below, echoing through the buildings. The True Born opens his mouth. He speaks a word, a single word. It’s a language I’ve not heard before but it sounds ancient, primordial. The hair on my arms pricks. My gut clenches. I want to curl up in a ball and hide from the power of its call.
Which is the moment I realize it is a call, as suddenly, hundreds of thin, wan faces emerge, swarming like silent rats through the streets. Some carry guns and knives. Others planks of wood with nails or metal pipes. There are children mixed in with the raggedy crowd, too, thin-bodied and racked with hunger and the seeping onset of Plague. They all have hollowed eyes, blank with misery. It’s an army of hundreds—no, thousands, I calculate through the strange floodlight of the fire. And each one of the rabble army wears as their uniform a sharp look of defiance. These people will fight to the death.
And they’re Lasters. All of them, Lasters.
Occasionally one stumbles, and a neighbor helps them to their feet. I’m swamped with a horrible sense of déjà vu, but when I look over at Storm, he’s carefree and smiling.
Nolan Storm has unleashed this human storm. This is civil war. And he is their captain.
30
“What have you done?”
Nolan Storm tips his head toward me to indicate he’s heard but peers silently into the teeming human sea below. Lukas’s army is now completely surrounded, barricaded in by a thick human wall. The armed soldiers turn masked faces to the crowd in a feeble attempt to hold back the Lasters. There are maybe a hundred guns with which to kill thousands. Not enough, I reckon. I lean closer to the building’s edge, far enough that I can watch the roving eye of a tank’s gunwale, restlessly passing over the crowd as though searching for a good target. I spy my father, dressed more casually than I’ve seen him in years, in black trousers and shirt. His silvered hair whips around in the breeze as he stands on top of a tank with some sort of device in his hands. As if he can sense me, our eyes meet.
My father glares at me. Disappointment and anger show visible in the rigid lines of his body. He raises his arm and points one black-gloved finger at me.
Get down here, he mouths.
I tremble violently. I’m not stable as Storm stomps his foot again and the ground beneath my feet ripples, the shock waves hitting my knees, making me sick to my stomach. The jolt is just enough to send me pitching forward. I feel my feet leave the roof and I plunge into the night and the flames.
A primal scream wakes me from the descending darkness. Like a puppet I dangle, held by one hand over the chaotic scene below.
“Lu! Do not let go.” Red-faced and snarling, Jared’s bones grow sharp under a bank of blond bangs.
“Jared.” My ribs feel caged in steel, so it’s difficult to breath, let alone talk. “Jared.” Tears leak from my eyes. This is how Margot felt, this letting go.
But Jared holds on. I stare into his terrified eyes as he hikes me up an inch, two, high enough that Storm is able to crouch down and extend his fingers. “Give me your other hand, Lucy.”
Both of my hands are fastened like slippery cement on Jared. I can’t bear to let go. Jared’s eyes grow fierce. “Do it, Lu.” He nods at me. “Please. Do it.”
I flap around in the breeze as I let go and extend my other shaking arm to the rooftop. Storm takes it and between the two of them I’m winched away from the dark jaws of certain death below. Seconds later I’m sitting on the roof, gulping in air, adrenaline spiking through my brain like the hum of electricity. I feel as though I’ve been hit by lightning.
Below, chaos unfurls. The Lasters mob the army, tearing at the soldier with bare hands. They beat the soldiers with whatever tools they have in hand as the tanks roar to life and crush bodies beneath their ridged tracks. I scream, horrified by the violence as I watch a child sink beneath the belly of a tank.
I lose track of my father in the terrible chaos.
“What’s happening?”
Storm crouches beside me. His heavy hand comes down over the back of my hair, soothing me, though I’m far from pacified. “After the last council meeting, the Laster representatives and I came to a mutually beneficial agreement. The Upper Circle will no longer rule Dominion.”
I stare at him, certain I’ve misheard. It’s unthinkable. Unimaginable.
But so is this, my feverish brain supplies.
Is there any other way? Not that I can see. Not ever again. Not after what Nash and my father have been up to. The Upper Circle can no longer be trusted to hold the reins of power.
“Who, then?”
“We’ll strike a council, like before. All represented.”
I lick my lips. “And you’ll lead them.”
“I’ll lead the True Borns,” Storm agrees calmly. “You’ll stay on the council, too.
Either as an Upper Circle representative…or something more.” There’s a thread there I can barely follow. I’m not certain if Storm means that he’ll have me sit on the council as a True Born hybrid or whether he’s talking about something else… Something like marriage.
Yet I can’t think about councils or the future while the roiling storm of bodies continues beneath us. While some of the foot soldiers retreat, the tanks are immobilized but holding fast in their metal carapaces. And more Lasters are mown down. Some soldiers are torn from their uniforms as the sky lightens with the hazy glow of fire. I want to cry, but where are my tears? Where have they gone?
Jared’s hand holds fast to mine. Squeezes. “C’mon, Princess. Don’t fail me now.”
I turn and give him my best, most haughty look. “I do not fall apart. Not ever.”
Jared’s grin spreads slowly as he helps me to my feet. “That’s the truth, Lu. You do not.”
He pulls me up into his arms and starts toward the copter. I raise one hand in salute to Storm, who nods and, with a slight smile, turns to head back down the stairs of the refinery.
“I can walk, you know,” I grumble at Jared.
His grin grows wider. “I know you can, Lu, but how else can I cop a feel?”
I stare at him, utterly bewildered. “How can you joke at a time like this, Jared Price?”
This sobers him. “Because you’re alive, Lu. That’s good enough for me.”
The copter’s blades whirr to life as we reach its metal belly. Jared tosses me in, and I struggle against his hands as he buckles me into a seat. “I can do it!”
“But then I don’t get to feel you up.” He follows me in with a wink, pulling on a headset and making a whirling motion with his hands. The pilot nods, turns, and smiles at me. Though a hat and his earpiece obscure his face, I suddenly recognize the long, thin cheeks, the slight bluish-white cast to the man’s skin.
“You’re the merc from Grayguard,” I yell, though the copter’s hum steals my words. I’d once followed this man around the halls of Grayguard. He was one of the few True Borns hired as a Personal to guard the young masters and mistresses of the elite private school. I’d hoped to learn more about True Borns from him.
Jared throws a headset on me, and I can just make out the man’s words as he nods at me. “Miss Fox.”
“Jared, do you know who this is?”
Jared busies himself before his voice tunes in to my ear. “He can hear you, Lu.”
“I’m sorry. I never got to ask you your name. I always wanted to know.”
“Gideon.”
“Gideon. And how…?” I stop myself just in time, remembering myself. These days even a career merc can find themselves without a job when their family is bit by Plague.
The copter lifts off the roof, and as it takes to the sky, an idea digs its roots . Flowery petals of fire open all around the refinery. And an idea flowers inside me. So simple, staring me in the face the whole time. It’s the biggest idea. The one that will change everything, forever. And it comes to me in the quiet-quiet whisper of Margot’s voice.
Evolve or die.
…
Shaky and unsure of myself, I eye the medical chest shoved halfway beneath the seats of the copter. Grabbing at the seat belt, I lean over and watch as the multitudes combat in the streets. I can see more army coming: lines of black moving orderly through the streets from out near the city edge where they’re hosteled.
“Jared, look.” I tug at his sleeve and point.
Grim-faced, Jared grabs his mic. “Gideon, open a channel, please.” A whining noise fills my head as Jared talks, though I catch a few words: two hundred men. Rocket launchers. Light artillery.
The communication ends, and Jared nods at Gideon, who flies us back over the scene. Smoke hangs everywhere, stinking heavily of sugar and billowing around the torch-like refinery.
Gideon makes a noise in his throat. “Shall I continue to make passes?”
Jared considers this a moment and sends me a sidelong look I’d as soon call torn. “No. We need to get Lucy to the country.”
“Wait,” I break in, touching the back of Gideon’s seat. He catches eyes with me in the rearview, that strange, startling alien quality to him causing me to pause. “Gideon,” I say, scrambling to get my thoughts in order, “Gideon, I need to talk to Jared about something very important and very private. And I know you’ll be able to hear it, too…”
Gideon shakes his head. “No. No need.” He flicks a switch and with a crackle and a smile I realize he’s cut himself out of our loop. I flash a smile and turn back to Jared as I unbuckle my seat belt.
“Just what the hell do you think you’re doing, Lu?” Jared storms as he moves lightning-fast to re-buckle me.
“No. No, no, no. Jared, listen to me.” I take his face in my hands, marveling at the rough-smooth quality of his skin. The stark beauty of his face, the lovely, elegant slant to his nose, the unquenchable spirit in his eyes. If anyone will support me in my crazy scheme, it will be this man. “We can’t just run away from this mess.”
“Yes we can, Lu. And that was a direct order from the big guy.” He twirls his fingers for punctuation just as the copter lurches. It takes me a moment to realize that the tiny blurs floating upward past the open doors is a volley of bullets. Jared swears and screams at Gideon to take us higher and move away from the scene. My hair whips around my face, obscuring the dangerous view, and I hang on to the unfastened strap of my belt for dear life. Jared clamps an arm across my body, holding me fast. The copter jerks again and dips before heading toward Storm’s keep, rising like an obsidian tower in the lowering dark of the city.
“Jared, stop, wait. We can stop this. I need your help. Please, please, Jared. We can end this,” I plead.
This stops him. “What are you talking about, Lu?”
“We have what we need. Everything we need is right here.” I sweep my hand to indicate the chest at our feet, the city below. “Please, Jared. I’m begging you. Please. Please help me.”
He’s still, my True Born, as he contemplates what I’m asking. And I reckon I can tell the moment he’s grasped the extent of my plan: the moment his pupils dilate to tiny pinpricks and his jaw drops.
“You can’t be serious.” A moment later he heaves a breath and continues. “We have no idea what it will do to people. It’s not been tested at all.”
I nod and swallow past the massive knot in my throat. “I know. I know that. But they’re going to die anyhow, Jared. Either by bullets or Plague. At least this way they’re given a chance. And—and it will even the playing field.”
Jared runs a hand over his face. “I can’t believe you’re even suggesting this.”
Tugging his hand away from his chin, I force him to look at me. “You know as well as I that Storm and his Laster army are no match for the entire army of Dominion. They’ll win, Jared. And what happens when they do? Think about it. The Watchers belong to my father. The preacher men. The countryside. They only way to stop his game is to take it away from him. To change it.”
To bring things full circle. Two circles, conjoined. Lock and key.
“I can’t, Lu. We can’t.”
I nod but grab his hands, pulling them to my chest where my heartbeat trips. “I can’t do this on my own, Jared. I need you.”
“No.” He frowns, every inch of his features stamped with stubborn. “I’m getting you out of here. And you’re going to the country. Storm will join you there. And you’ll be safe.”
My eyes widen in shock. “Storm will join me there?” After a beat, his meaning sinks in. “You’re planning on being my babysitter until Storm shows up. And then what?”
“Then you go on to your happily ever after,” he spits out miserably.
“There is no happily ever after.” I bark a harsh laugh. “This is Dominion.”
There is war and famine and Plague in Dominion. There are starving children being murdered by the army. There is a madman taking over the government.
>
“Jared.” I return my hand to his cheek, bringing his forehead down to mine. Our eyes still meet, lock, and for a moment I’m lost. “Jared, there’s no life in Dominion unless we do something. Not even Nolan Storm can survive this. Not without help. Not without his people.”
It occurs to me that if I do this, if we do this, I’m giving in to their prophecy. Giving in to everything Serena and her Horned people—or whoever they are—want. But is there another way?
No. And in the end, I reckon Jared knows it, too.
For a long, tense moment he contemplates me from beneath his absurdly beautiful lashes before his lips come down to claim mine. It’s the softest, sweetest kiss I’ve ever tasted from him. And it makes me tremble with its power.
“Okay.” He rips the word from his lungs like it hurts. “Okay, Lu.” He soothes the hair from my face, his fingers trapping satiny locks with his fingers. “I-I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he grumbles. But underneath I can feel him shaking.
“There’s no other way, Jared. There’s no other way,” I reply with conviction. I leave dangling the words that don’t need to be spoken. Not without so much bloodshed and death.
Reluctantly, Jared turns to Gideon, but he holds fast to my hand. He raps a fist on the roof and Gideon leans over, flicking a switch before meeting our gaze with a politely inquiring look.
“Change of plans, G,” Jared drawls as the three-way radio flickers on with a crackle. My heart breaks open as Jared twirls his fingers in the air. Gideon zooms up and over Storm’s tower, back toward the bloody fray.
31
Gideon says into the three-way, “We’re going to have to head in with the wind. Hang on.” The copter swerves and dives into a thick plume of smoke before it pulls clear again.
And reveals a scene of mayhem.
The refinery is lit like a massive beacon, the air thick and choking. All around it, bodies litter the ground. From this vantage point they look like rag dolls in Lasters’ trousers, bloodied and bent, torn by bullets. One of the pipes running up the side of the refinery gives a sudden lurch and crashes, crushing against the topside of a tank. The fire spreads to a large metal garbage bin where Laster children have been stashed for safekeeping. I scream in horror as I watch them leap like little fleas, some of the youngest of them being pulled out by hair covered in burning embers, or clothes, or whatever there is to reach.
True Storm Page 28