Jamb (The Cornerstone Series)

by Misty Provencher

  The chain rattles and the awkward Contego from the courtyard, the one who was always so itchy, knocks away the man who is about to release the chain.

  “She stays,” Itchy says, but his smile is even more frightening than the man who went for my ankle. He rubs his hands together and my brain fires off the names of five different transmittable diseases that might be the reason for his constant itching. His eyes seem to gleam when I shrink away from him. I force my entire body to stay rigid, disguising the shiver that cuts through me. I can not be afraid. They feed on that.

  Milo barks over everyone, “I said, she is mine! You want new Contego to fight for our Fury? Ones who know what they’re doing? This one was just trained. She knows some of the new ways. She will fight for us. I’ll make sure of it. She belongs to me now and she will obey only me!”

  “And what if she doesn’t?” Teagan asks. “She’ll kill us or bring them to us!”

  “She won’t kill anyone,” Milo growls. “I’m stronger than she is.” And before I can react, he spins on me and lashes out. My field explodes, but Milo swipes the slightest tip of his finger across my heart Cavis and it knocks me out cold.

  ***

  I moan and Milo whispers, keep your mouth shut, as I come to. I’m cradled in the v of his legs, my back to his chest and his lips are on my neck. One of his hands is also on my chest. Not just anywhere either. I try to raise my own hand to push his away, but he pins my arm to my side with his knee.

  “Do as I say,” he commands, his lips at my ear. And my skin is moist beneath his kiss. He holds me so tightly that my flinch goes undetected. He’s kissing me and there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m pinned. “They’ll kill you if you don’t.”

  My vision is hazy as the truck bed bumps along, bouncing all of us like heavy popcorn kernels. I search for Garrett and find only his back, the muscles so tense that they strain against his shirt. Milo grabs me under my jaw and pulls me back against his shoulder. He wrenches my face toward his and then his lips are on mine.

  His lips. On mine.

  I struggle, but his embrace is so tight it is like fighting metal. I don’t know how we all missed that he was Contego. All the signs were there, from not being able to write, to his interest in our training. And how did the Addo miss something this monumental? Or if he didn’t miss it, why didn’t he tell us? My muscles tighten at the thought of Milo being a traitor. What sounds like Milo’s groan, but is actually a growl that he drops between my parted lips. His tongue pokes at my cheek, as potent as if he were jabbing me with his elbow.

  His hand is anything but tender as it pushes at the bone behind my ear, the fingertips digging into my skull as he forces my head to lay against his neck again. Most of the others in the truck aren’t staring at us anymore. Even the man we kicked only glances at us from across the truck, but his gaze is weak and shamed. He finds other places to look.

  Milo relaxes under me and then I get what he’s doing.

  This make-out session is for the benefit of everyone on the truck, but it is also an opportunity for us to exchange information without being suspected of doing it. Milo’s positioned me near his own ear, to ask what I need to ask. I turn slightly in his arms, taking a deep breath and forcing my lips against his neck.

  His skin is not unpleasant, but it is still vinegar compared to Garrett’s. And Milo’s scent is deeper and darker up close. Foreboding as patchouli. I crave the citrus scent of Garrett, along with his gentle hands and energizing embrace.

  Instead of tilting his head back with the contact of my lips, Milo moans lightly and ducks his ear down toward my lips. He releases his knee-grip on me, allowing me to remove my hand easily now, and I slide it stiffly into his hair. He hums in agreement, letting me know I’m doing the right thing. I pull his face down to mine.

  I feel like I’m breaking a hundred laws and deserve the death penalty. But I know this is also how it must be done.

  “Where are we going?” I whisper and he hums a pleasing sound, pressing me closer as if my tongue is in his ear instead of just my words. His answer comes with a fervent kiss near my ear.

  “Fury compound,” he answers. I nod against his cheek, but when I open my eyes, I spot Garrett again. Teagan’s hand is on his thigh. My body tightens, wanting to go to him and tear Teagan away. But Milo senses the change and clamps around me again, with a throaty chuckle.

  “You want to fight me?” he announces with a laugh. The creep-factor in his tone makes me shiver, but men in the back of the truck wet their lips as if they’re about to see a show. Milo pulls my face up, ripping my gaze from Garrett. Milo adds, “That’s right, you do what I say now.”

  That might be fine with me, if he’s saying he wants me to barf on him.

  “Don’t look at him again,” Milo whispers in a kiss and if anyone overheard, I’m sure they’d think it is another command, but when Milo’s hand gently strokes down my arm, I think he’s trying to comfort me. Or to keep me from going five-star crazy and ripping Teagan’s arms clean off for touching my Vieo.

  “You didn’t have to knock me out,” I say, with a grin that’s as hard as an hour-boiled egg.

  “Yes, I did,” he smiles back. Okay, so he did. But my whole body still aches from it. As he runs his hands over my arms, I notice he is massaging the muscle as much as he is touching me. I don’t know if I want to thank him for getting me this far, or throw him from the truck myself.

  He should never have known my Cavis, but from those hours watching me train, he definitely knew which Cavis was my weakest and where it is located. I lay back against him, unable to relax at all. I don’t even know for sure that he’s on our side. Probably he is. Maybe. I’m not sure. Reviewing what’s happened, I can’t really separate if he’s actually one of us or if I’m just being sucked in.

  He never told me he was Contego, or even more important, that he’s a child of the Cusp, like me. The community seemed to act like I was one of a kind, so I never expected there’d be anyone else who shared my fate. But it makes sense that Milo would be a freak, just like me. He was raised by my father; he’s not blood, but he’s almost my brother, in a weird, warpy way. And it feels even warpier when he kisses my lips again. “Just stay by me and do as I say.”

  I want to vomit, but I nod instead. But when my head swings in Garrett’s direction unintentionally, Milo’s fingers catch my chin and they dig a little into my skin. His voice rumbles through his chest and into my back as he orders me like an animal, “No.”

  And I wonder again, which side he is really on.

  ***

  When the truck lurches to a halt, we’re all tossed forward. We get to our feet and the chains are finally removed from the doors. Swung wide open, beams of spotlights flood into the box, blinding me so that I throw my arm over my eyes. Milo grabs my hand and pulls me with him to the edge of the truck. We jump down, into thick grass, and he pulls me close.

  And the growl behind me is tangible. I look over Milo’s shoulder as he quickly drags me away from Garrett and Teagan, who land behind us. Grace whimpers in her mother’s arms. Garrett looks like he wants to dismantle Milo.

  The stagnant summer night makes the grass sharp and scratchy on my legs. We stand in the crowd from our truck, blinded by the spotlights rigged up on tripods. The other truck lets a few people out of the back before it drives off.

  “Where are they going?” I whisper to Milo and he shrugs.

  “No idea,” he says, but his answer sounds frightening.

  I run my gaze through the crush of bodies and pick out the traitors. Dai, Ms. Fisk, Itchy. There are several faces from the second Cura that I only remember because they were hanging over the ledge, shouting ugly things at Sean during the Totus. And then I spot Larson.

  He’s not just standing around with the rest of us. He’s bound with rope, his mouth gagged, blood trickling from the corner of his split lip. His skin is a sickening, blotchy shade of bruises. He’s standing straight, but I can tell that he’s calling on every muscle and
bone to help him do it.

  “We will separate our people,” Ms. Fisk says. “From those who must go through the Jamb.”

  Her voice is clear, even, precise. And it chills me to the bone. She walks through the crowd, flicking a finger to indicate each person’s placement: either in the group off to the right, or standing alone near the spotlight. Her tone is cheery as she flicks through them one at a time, “Welcome, welcome, welcome…yes, you are welcome…welcome, welcome…hmmm, oh yes, welcome…”

  Larson is not welcomed. Ms. Fisk snaps her finger toward the spotlight and Larson is shoved in front of it. His shadow stretches across the ground, his dark head falling on Garrett’s feet like an arrow. Larson staggers to the side as if he sees it too, waffling to stay upright. The Fury herd, off to the right, laugh at him. Then they start to pitch rocks, trying to knock him over.

  “Welcome, welcome, welcome,” Ms. Fisk continues flicking, until she gets to Garrett. “You?” she glares at him and then at Teagan. “Which one is he? Oh, never mind. He will go through the Jamb.”

  “No!” Teagan shouts as Ms. Fisk turns away. Grace wails. “He’s mine! He’s Sean Reese, he is Simple! The Jamb would kill him!”

  “Wheat from the chaff,” Ms. Fisk says with a shrug. Milo’s nails dig into my skin and his other hand is banded around my waist. I am sure he will try to take me down if I attack, but I don’t know how I can stay still.

  “Wait,” Milo whispers with a kiss in my ear. I want to rip off his lips, but I hold myself down.

  “He is Simple!” Teagan shouts again, her eyes wildly scanning the crowd until she finds Dai. “Daddy! It’ll kill him, you know it will! He’s Simple! Don’t you have any power at all? Are you going to let her tell you what to do?”

  Dai’s chest puffs out as he steps out of the crowd. “This is my daughter’s wish. I am faithful to the Mastermind. As I have brought Contego from the inner circle in this ambush, I should be repaid for the honor.”

  “You’ve brought a Contego, instead of the Addo.” Ms. Fisk flips her forehead in Larson’s direction and I calm. She believes Garrett is Sean too. “And the Contego is only Larson. He was hardly worth the truck ride here. You didn’t even manage to bring the Addo’s Procella.”

  “But,” Dai says with a spicy flash in his eyes, “I have brought her oldest son. The Simple Addo. Surely, the Procella Reese will seek to recover him, especially if he is alive.”

  “Let’s get this straight right now. He is Simple, which means he is incapable of being our Addo. He is useless to us. I doubt it matters to Madam Reese whether he is live or dead, since she hasn’t lifted one finger to recover her youngest son. Why would she care any more for this one?” Ms. Fisk asks. Milo’s nails dig into me again and he’s right to do it. My legs are spring-loaded and I’m going to launch myself at Ms. Fisk and take her down, the second I get the chance. But I don’t think he’s going to give it to me.

  “Because we’ll tell her they are both alive, and she will trade her real Addo for her sons,” Teagan says as her gaze drops down to Grace. “Any mother would.”

  “She’s right,” Itchy shouts from the crowd. Some voices murmur disagreement, others agree, and Ms. Fisk rolls her tongue delicately in her cheek.

  “Possibly,” she says. “Without any powers, it’s true that he isn’t a threat to us. I will grant you this, Dai: we’ll keep him alive, for now. If the Mastermind’s plans fail, he may be of use later.”

  Garrett steps forward. “I am happy to help.” Ms. Fisk turns on him with surprise.

  “You would? And why so eager, Mr. Reese?” she purrs, which coming from her blunt, hair-framed face, makes her look about as trustworthy as the Cheshire Cat.

  “Because I love my new wife. She belongs to me and I plan to do whatever it takes to keep her mine.”

  Ms. Fisk smiles, but only with her teeth. “Good to know.”

  Teagan lets out a visible sigh of relief as she turns to Garrett, smiling up into his face. He grins down at her. Watching it happen at a distance, rather than being beneath his smile myself, fills my stomach with cement. Milo pivots me away, scooting us toward the crowd of The Fury that have already been welcomed.

  Our shadows drop in the spotlight and Ms. Fisk spots us immediately.

  “Nalena Maxwell,” she says. Her tone is crisp. “Another useless Contego. Oh, and Milo Frangere. Children of traitors, both of you. I suppose it’s not surprising at all to see either of you here.”

  “Not surprising that you weaseled your way in and took my place with the Mastermind, either,” Milo sneers. I want to step away from him. Well, run away. But his foot is on mine. My brain tumbles. He was the second hand to the Mastermind? And now Ms. Fisk is? Does that mean Milo is the Mastermind’s third? I can’t even breathe.

  “Good to see you back. Happy to hear you helped take down a Contego or two in the ambush,” Ms. Fisk purrs. He did?

  “The Moxes. I couldn’t get the Addo, but I was able to take out the Moxes.”

  My legs tighten, ready to bolt, but Milo presses down on my instep. Ms. Fisk extends a finger to me.

  “But too bad you brought Nalena. If you want her, she will definitely have to go through the Jamb.”

  Garrett turns his back to me. He is bowed over Teagan, holding tight to her and Grace, scooting them further to the back of the crowd of accepted Selfish.

  “You think I can’t control her? You think I’ve got to strip off her Connection to make her do what I want?” Milo fumes. He looks like a man I’ve never met before. My father, in the back of my head, says: Cry.

  I won’t. The Contego are supposed to fight their fear. But my father says, Be afraid. They’ll kill you if you’re not. Think of your mama. Think of how you’ll never see her again.

  Looking at Ms. Fisk, the one who tried to write my mother’s Memory and couldn’t. The diamond my mother placed in my heart during her Memory ceremony, sparkles in my head. That diamond reminds me of how my mother filled me up and made me strong and how she told me I would never be without her. My mother never lied to me. My father’s voice spikes to a terrified pitch.

  Really, Nalena? You think you’ll ever see her again? Where is she, baby? Where do you think she is? She fed you lies. She’s never coming back, you hear me? Cry for her! Cry, dammit!

  But his blabbering just hardens my resolve. I’m not going to show them that they can crack me so easily. Even with Milo crushing down on my instep.

  Ms. Fisk grabs my face and wrenches it up, so I’m looking at her eye-to-dry-eye. The grin, framed by her square haircut, is sticky as soda spilled in the sun. With flies stuck in it.

  “Not this time, Milo. But if she doesn’t die in the Jamb, I’m sure the Mastermind will let you have whatever is left of her.”

  Ms. Fisk’s fingernail scratches my cheek as she lets go of my face. And now, I realize that crying would’ve proved that Milo could control me. My father was trying to help. He and Milo are both on my side and I just ruined my chances of avoiding whatever awful thing this Jamb is. One tear slips out, running into the scratch Ms. Fisk left on my skin. It stings as it makes it’s way down my face, finally slipping off my chin, too late.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Milo insists on being in charge of me and Larson. At first, I think maybe he’ll try to shove us out of the spotlight and have us run, but the Fury is all around us. They still chuck rocks at Larson and me too, until the spotlights are swung around to face in the opposite direction.

  At first I’m blinded with ghost-spots of the lights, but Milo pushes me along. He’s rough with me, even though he just does a lot of throwing me around. I stumble a lot, with my head down, but he never lets me fall. He’s even easier on Larson, as if he can’t really beat on Larson more, since he’s got his hands full with me.

  When I lift my gaze, I see the side of a hill that is mostly sunk in the tall grass. The mound could be a dead dinosaur, collapsed and curled for eternity beneath the grass. Two men walk up its side, at least twenty feet apart, pulling someth
ing with them. I blink and see the wide strip of sod they are pulling back, rolling it like a wedding carpet, from over the top of a narrow corridor. This must be a Veritas hideaway. It is so cleverly disguised, no one would ever suspect the corridor was here. Which also boils my dread inside me, until it’s so full and thick that I can hardly swallow.

  The corridor is cut right into the center of the sleeping creature, the walls held back from crumbling by a deep brown brick. The walkway is also covered with the brick but I can’t see where it leads, since the edge of the hill is high and the corridor slopes down into the belly of the hill.

  The Fury stuff themselves into the corridor, arguing about being first and elbowing each other out of the way, as if they are returning home to a gourmet dinner. Maybe they are, but Milo is in no hurry. Garrett, Teagan and the baby enter the corridor first, far ahead of us. As we step onto the first bricks leading down, I can already smell the ground all around me, moist and wormy, as if we’re being buried.

  Ms. Fisk is behind us, with a few grizzly men. Their eyes don’t focus correctly and they fidget behind us. I would bet they are insane, in the last stage of being usable to The Fury. And that makes them even more dangerous.

  I think they are whispering to me and when I swear I hear one of them say my name, I turn to see. No one is looking at me, except Ms. Fisk, and she definitely doesn’t look like she called my name. Milo gives me a shove. I move a few steps further into the corridor and the whispers begin again. This time, I definitely hear my name. And I definitely know the voice. It’s my mother.

  Nalena! Go back! Can you hear me? Run!!

  How can she be here? My field explodes and my father’s voice is immediate. Can you hear Evangeline?

  Yes, I answer him. Where is she? Can you see her?

  No. Then, his tone drops as if he’s getting sick. Oh my God…

  What? What’s wrong?