by Bridget Ladd
He was giving the citizens their freedom—the worst sort of punishment one could bestow upon the Council.
In a flash, Xander swiveled the chair back into its proper position, an action so quick that it made me blink. “And that’s why I believe we’ll be fighting Sector 5, the Gatling gun, and not Venator tomorrow. Percival will do anything to get back at me. He will not chance defeat to only have the opportunity to fight us in the elimination rounds. If he is to beat us, he will do it with a flourish.”
Chapter 32
Learning To Walk Away
“You think Dex is watching the fight? We cannot risk being spotted anywhere near the Requiem if he is,” I said as I tried to pull my hood even further over my face.
After trying to clear my mind of the gritty details of Xander and Percival’s past, we exited the hut and made our way from the Compound and into the deserted streets of Prosper. The citizens dared not miss out on the rare opportunity of such brutal entertainment—regardless if they disliked it or not.
Xander looked down at me with a guilty expression. “I have no intention of going near the Requiem today. I actually had another idea. An idea that doesn’t involve meeting Dex at all.”
My brow furrowed. “But I thought—?”
“You remember meeting Eu’jinx in the tunnels of Sector 7?”
I nodded slowly, not following where this was going. “How could I forget?” It seemed so long ago that I had walked into that dark tunnel, but never would I forget Eu’jinx. Of our first terrifying meeting. And the sorrow I had felt for him afterwards.
“He’s found a way into the Council’s treasury through an interconnecting tunnel system and confirmed the necklace was in place. I would never detonate it without knowing for sure.” Xander reached inside his coat. “So I thought that perhaps we could thank him.” In his hand was a large block of cheese and a slice of cured meat, both wrapped in cloth.
I shook my head, impressed and flattered by his thoughtfulness.
“Sector 7 is a bit of a hike away. Since my compromise session was cut short . . .” He eyed me accusingly with a grin. “You sure you’re up for it today?” Xander asked carefully, keeping his face straight, unreadable.
“I know that you’re effectively testing my patience,” I almost growled back at him. “I told you, I’m fine.” I knew I was blushing, my cheeks were too flushed and warm for me not to be.
Xander’s face lifted in amusement. He reached inside his coat again and produced a large bottle that held a strange vibrant purple liquid. “I thought I would also thank you today . . . for being my partner, and making my time in the Barrage one full of worry and panic.”
I scoffed, scuffing dirt towards his boots. “You could’ve just said, ‘I would enjoy having lunch with you, Lily’,” I mimicked with my best Xander’esk impression.
He squinted, considering my suggestion. “Ah yes, I’ll admit I’ve never really been the best at communicating . . . to the ladies, nor did I ever like talking much. Having my Sense never really calls for it—and most of the time I find it pointless, realizing people hardly ever say what they truly feel.” He looked sideways at me as we walked. “You do that a lot.”
My eyes widened with humor. “I’m a lady! We never say what we truly feel.”
Xander laughed. “I suppose that’s true. Girls are quite bizarre.”
Pursing my lips, I nodded. “Yes, we’re the weird ones.” I patted him on the shoulder with mock empathy. “Let’s go, Mister I-read-people’s-colors.” With a grin I stepped in front of him, leading the way triumphantly towards Sector 7.
~
“Well this wasn’t what I expected,” I said, eyeing the dusty market street filled with people. Normal citizens. Nothing really scary about them at all, unlike how I always imagined those who lived in Sector 7 to be.
We arrived only a short while later to the gates of Sector 7, finding no problems along our way. A few peddlers roamed the streets and the elderly quietly watched our passing from the safety of their porches. The last round had ended during our walk over, and a steady flow of people were starting to filter into the Sector again.
A blue sparkling vase glistened in the sunshine, catching my eye and drawing me near.
Without warning, Xander pulled me to the side of a building, behind a vendor’s cart, and spoke close to my ear. “Listen, I want you to wait for me here. There are more guards than I previously thought.”
“What guards—” I began to ask, but caught myself when I saw that he was right. Briggin’s men, dressed in civilian clothing, were positioned sporadically among the streets. One sat on the curb and gnawed distastefully at the end of a chicken bone while others propped themselves up against the cool, shaded side of a building.
“I’ll find Eu’jinx and be out quickly.”
“What’s Briggins up to now?” I whispered. “What threatens him to double his guard like this?”
Xander shook his head. “I’m not sure, but this energy I’m reading from them . . .” He paused, his attention drawn to a guard who walked past. His gait was slow and lazy, ready to assert what little authority he did have.
“—Scratch that. Turn around. We’re leaving. Now,” Xander said, looking with wild, unfocused eyes towards another guard who laughed and rocked backwards as he tore a strip of meat away from a bone.
I grabbed at Xander’s shoulder as he began to pull away. “We can’t just leave. Eu’jinx did a great service to us and he must be starving in there. You told me you can get to him quickly. I’ll wait here, like you said, if it means we can get food to him.”
Xander narrowed his eyes, his jaw clenching with disapproval. “Fine. But make sure you do stay here in the market. Pretend you’re browsing. Do not speak to anyone while I’m gone and keep this with you.” He handed over the bottle. Something bunched beneath my fingers and I quickly realized he had hidden a small dagger within the cloth.
I nodded, pursing my lips while depositing the items into my coat.
Xander attempted what I thought was a wan smile but it was difficult to tell as he walked away. The mask of determination and deadly seriousness returned, marking his posture as he turned down the alleyway closest to us and disappeared. Xander, the impossible shadow, I thought. I’m surprised I haven’t gotten used to this by now.
Feeling more exposed in the market and not knowing what else to do, I walked down an alleyway to my left and positioned my back against the damp wall, stretching out my sore legs. Anything was better than standing awkwardly in the open street. As if that wouldn’t draw any unwanted suspicion.
I patted my pockets to see if I had anything to dawdle with while I waited for Xander’s return. I froze when I felt the unmistakable shape of my grandmother’s journal in my left jacket pocket. “I don’t remember putting you in here . . .” I whispered, careful to keep my voice low. I shrugged and slid to the ground, carefully removing it and concealing it within my palms.
With everything happening as of late, I could’ve put last week’s leftover dinner in my jacket being as addle-brained as I was. I did get hit in the head, twice, after all.
Skimming my eyes over the pages again, I hid the journal within my coat in an area that had just enough light for legibility. My grandmother’s elegant script scrolled breathlessly across the page like a living entity. Most of what was written made no sense to me, but I marveled at what was there nonetheless. Someone who didn’t have the opportunity to know my grandmother like I did, would quickly dismiss her as having her mind in the clouds and her lips upon the bottle.
That her imagination drove her to madness.
Grandmother Everett was not a spinner of tales. She was a lady of Science and factional reasoning. She wouldn’t make this up for the simple pleasure of pleasing her granddaughter. To her, reality was more fascinating than fiction.
I turned the page and squinted at the inscription of a language not of our own. Arrows and foreign symbols lined the binding, my eyes perceiving for the first time that th
ey may actually be giving some form of instruction—”
“EH! Girlie, whatcha got under there, huh?” I heard a rough voice call out from further down the alleyway, startling me into a standing position.
Now if that didn’t look suspicious. Good one, Lily.
I watched as four men strutted from the back entrance of the alleyway with a fifth hidden behind. I quickly shoved the journal inside my sleeve, hoping that would be the last place they searched if they planned to steal anything off of me.
“I said . . . what you got hidin’ under there, girlie? I asked you a question an’ it’s not very nice of you to brush me off like that. I be hatin’ it when the ladies brush me off,” called out the rough looking man in front who had crooked spectacles.
My eyes went wide when I realized one of the men who stood among them was Giles with that unmistakable mop of greasy hair. If Giles was here, that could only mean one thing . . . .
Sure enough, Scottie Briggins stepped out from behind Crooked Spectacles, with head down, reading a piece of parchment. He wasn’t paying me or the conversation any heed. In fact, he looked rather bored and distant as if it was a common occurrence for this group to harass lone women in alleyways.
Pretending to not hear the man’s taunts, I turned to avoid Scottie seeing me. I started walking towards the sunlight of the street, hoping to quickly diffuse the situation in a crowd of onlookers.
“Eh! Why you runnin’ away like that? You mus’ be hidin’ sumin’ you don’t want us to be seein’ . . . . Why you so rude lil’ missy?”
I kept my head down, ignoring them and kept my pace steady as I made my way towards the street, gripping the small dagger Xander had given me in my palm.
“She must be deaf, daft, or dumb, George,” I heard another say, which made me think it was Giles.
“Or all three of those!” Crooked Spectacles—George—responded beside him. They both chuckled, and George spoke again, “An’ that’s how I like my women.”
I scowled to myself. Idiots. Being daft is being dumb, you oafs.
I jumped back suddenly, startled when two men walked casually from the side alleyway in front of me, blocking my exit. “I believe our friend George wants a word with ya, lady,” the one directly in front of me said.
“A word. Yeah.” The other laughed. “Just a quick word.”
I heard the footsteps of the five others approach me from behind. Not wanting to expose my face, I resisted the urge to turn around and took my chances with the two in front of me—I kicked out hard, my boot connecting with the knee of the one on my left. I tried to shimmy between him and the wall as his leg gave way, but failed when someone grabbed my arms, crossing them roughly behind me. “Scrappy lil’ bitch ain’t she?” The man said over my shoulder with a laugh.
The jeweled dagger fell from my grip and clamored against the stone. My nostrils flared, my breathing heated. I could see Scottie’s face from the corner of my eye, registering the dagger. He seemed a bit more interested at this point, but still looked distracted as if he was above what was taking place. One’s pets must have their fun too now shouldn’t they?
The George fellow smiled grotesquely and reached inside my coat, taking his time, searching me until he landed upon the bottle.
“What we hav’ ere? For me? Oh you shouldn’t hav’ missy!” He ineffectively tried to open it, but then decided striking it against the wall and breaking off the top worked just as well.
I held my head low under my hood, passively trying to not draw attention to myself.
“Wait.” It was Scottie who spoke now. I heard him grab the bottle from George and inspect it. “This is of the highest quality; where did you get this?” he questioned, stepping in front of me. “If I find that you are a thief, I’ll—”
Knowing my ruse was up, I lifted my face, giving my most piercing look. “Hello, Scottie.”
To my satisfaction his eyes went wide in shock before narrowing to their usual look of bitterness.
“What say you have your minions unhand me for I do not believe the Magistrate will look too kindly upon you ruffing up another Barrage fighter outside the Requiem. My father, the Head, will also find this ganging up of seven men against one lone woman rather distasteful.”
The grip on my arms tightened as Scottie approached—him shoving what remained of the broken bottle over to George.
Scottie’s rose freckled face lingered close to mine as he coldly assessed me. “If I do recall, you no longer have ties with your father, the Head, for you defected against him the moment you decided to throw your title away and start this ridiculous rebellion of yours. To what purpose did that serve? To prove that you were better than everyone else?”
Not surrendering to his taunts, I held my expression firm.
He came closer, so close that I could now see the red splotches on his nose, the faint hint of stubble on his chin. He tsked as he looked at me—just before running his finger down my freshly mending wound. It hurt, but I was too angry to care.
“What a shame to mar such a pretty face,” he said, shaking his head. “Well, I do suppose it’s what you rightly deserve. And in any case, if I could not have you, now, no one will by the looks of it.” He took a step back smiling smugly, getting the approval of the others around him.
I had enough of Scottie.
Glancing to my right, I judged the distance to the street. Making myself as heavy as possible, I forced the man restraining me to have to struggle to keep his hold. I tensed my neck in preparation of ramming my skull into his head, but suddenly—a commotion broke out from behind.
Bodies dropped to the ground at my sides and Scottie flailed himself up against the wall in an attempt to get out of the path of the falling masses. The man holding me spun us both around to get a better look.
I grinned.
My partner advanced towards us. And he looked . . . furious. He was coming to reclaim what was his.
Giles threw a few unguarded punches that were easily pushed aside as Xander approached, not even gracing Giles with his attention as he did so.
He wasn’t looking at me either. But at Scottie.
With a few quick moves and a tangling of arms, Giles too found himself knocked unconscious upon the wall that Scottie was cowardly backed against.
Xander strode towards him with deadly intent. The lethal grace he exuded made it difficult for me to look away. Though, I should’ve been minding my own predicament—the man’s thick arm encircled my neck suddenly, squeezing the air from my windpipe. He was so close; I could smell the nervous and salty sweat from his skin. Then I felt it: the sharp prick of a knife pressured just under my rib cage.
“Back off!” the man called out to Xander.
Xander, noticing the knife tilted at my ribs, focused all attention on the man behind me now.
Xander extended the razor sharp dagger hidden within his sleeve with a quick metallic release. Reaching over, he absently grabbed a handful of Scottie’s straw colored hair, yanking him close. He pointed the dagger with its swirl of elegant designs at the exposed flesh of Scottie’s throat.
“I think I shall offer you the same instruction,” he said.
The man’s arm involuntarily tightened. He grunted, not knowing what to do—so he started dragging me.
I tried not to wince as I felt the knife dig deeper into my skin as he callously tried to back his way into the street.
“Gotta’ run, lil’ Mistress Bitch—but not wifout doin’ Scottie one las’ fava’,” he whispered over my shoulder, his breath vile.
—My ears burned hot and I gasped, feeling the knife’s tip slip easily into my skin.
He didn’t make it very far.
Just as the sunlight began to break over my face, I felt his hairy grip upon my neck slacken. Looking up, I saw him clutching at his own throat. A bronzed throwing dagger embedded deep into his flesh.
The man stumbled and fell away from me, swinging the knife still clutched tightly in his hand. I barely managed to avoid his
last attempt to stab me before he hit the ground. A few gasps broke forth from those who stood in the street—the Sector 7 citizens not understanding why this man had become a victim of such a violent foray.
Xander roughly relinquished Scottie’s hair, coming quickly to my side. “You hurt?”
I shook my head, breathing heavily. “No, I’m all right.” I dabbed my fingers at the blood that now seeped through my shirt. A small, blooming circle. “It didn’t go too deep.”
“He was going to kill you,” Xander said evenly, his tone making me realize it was something he had sensed. Something he had to do.
Scottie’s face flushed a searing red, an unbridled rage gathering. “Guards, seize him!”
Those of Scottie’s gang who’d been knocked unconscious were finally coming to their senses, rubbing their sore heads as they blocked our path from behind.
I searched for an escape and didn’t see any. Men surrounded us at all sides. The commonly dressed guards we spotted earlier had taken up ranks in front of us now.
We can fight our way out of this; I know we can.
“Xander, we—”
Xander shook his head. “We fight no more today. Let this go.”
My breath hitched in my chest and I began to panic.
Xander reached for the side of my face. He swiped his thumb across my cheek, looking at me with sad eyes—just before he was seized from behind.
“No!” I shouted as I ran towards him, but found myself being ripped away. This time it was Giles who held me at bay.
“Disarm him. Stray clear the blades at his wrists,” Scottie instructed. “This man attacked me and killed one of my associates. He has been found guilty of treason to Sector 7 and will be shackled in confinement until further notice.”