“Cage?” Violet sounded alarmed until the door swung open with ease. “Why did you call this a cage?”
Althea shrugged. “Cages aren’t always locked.”
Shepherd peered in. Violet screamed, startling a flock of bums as well as a few birds. The big man tilted his head with curiosity and looked at Althea, as if to ask what was wrong with this woman.
“Don’t worry.” Althea scampered on all fours through his legs and stood behind him. “He will protect us.”
“What if Neebo’s boys come looking for me?”
Althea shot an accusatory look at Shepherd, as if scolding a misbehaving dog. “They won’t.”
He shrugged with an apologetic grin.
A long black car came to a halt on the street by the ladder, giving Althea a bad feeling. The urge to run grew strong, but she did not want Pink Teeth to take Violet. She reached up and pulled the container closed, pressed her back against the wall, and folded her arms, acting casual. Whoever this was, she would send them away.
The rear door opened and a short woman with stark white hair in a pixie cut climbed out. Her grey-blue coat fluttered around her shins in the breeze, exposing shiny black pants and knee-high boots with thin, raised heels. Despite the color of her hair, she looked younger than Father, perhaps in her later twenties.
Ice-blue eyes peered over sunglasses pulled down her nose, and she locked her gaze on Althea. She stepped to the side as a man emerged from the grand car. His thick mane of chestnut hair was groomed to perfection, including a thin moustache and goatee. He held his gaze high and surveyed the homeless below him with a displeased glower, and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his long, tweed coat.
As soon as she saw the nose, she recognized him. The floating head―Archon.
So close to going home, Whisk would be back any minute now with Flatline or at least with the knowledge of where to bring her to meet him, she was not going to be taken.
“Go away,” Althea yelled. “I’m not yours. I don’t wanna go with you.”
“What’s going on?” Violet’s voice sounded muted through the closed container.
Althea patted it. “Stay in there. Please.”
“Foolish child.” Archon stepped off the edge, gliding through the air to a graceful landing in the sunken area. Ladders were so gauche. “There is much you lack the refinement to understand.” He held his arms out in a disarming gesture. “You have such potential, stop pissing it away in this grotty hovel.”
His female companion used the ladder.
The bums had fallen silent. Watching this man fly had stolen the breath from their lungs.
“I don’t want to understand your fine mints. I know you’re bad.” Althea slipped one foot behind the other, creeping backwards. “I want to go home to my family. You are not my family. Please leave me alone.” Her eyes flickered.
He smirked his way into a smile, and then a full grin. “It seems you are learning a little, but you have a lot of work to do.”
She gulped at the dismissal of her attempt to influence him, her voice carried a desperate whine. “Please leave.”
He closed his eyes, facing away as if weathering a mental assault. The British accent grew more pronounced. “You are getting closer, dear, but still falling short. Come now, child. Stop with the games and let us go to your home. You are superior to these wretches.” Archon held out a hand bedecked with two gold rings.
Althea glared, clinging to Shepherd’s metal arm. “You want to take me like everyone else. I’m not owned anymore.”
He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose with exasperation. “Fine then, if you insist on doing things the hard way, we shall.”
With that, he produced a pistol and held it to the white-haired woman’s head. “Come now, or you can watch her die.” He sounded more tired than threatening.
“What the hell are you doing?” she grumbled, not soft enough to evade Althea’s ears.
He replied with telepathy; Althea eavesdropped. She cannot stand to see people die. Just play along, dear.
Anger was not a face Althea made often, but her frown deepened. “You’re lying. I see your feelings. You like her.”
The woman cracked a little grin.
“Since you insist on being cheeky.” His arm whipped forward and shot a hole in the wall over Grey Tatter’s shoulder. “The next one won’t miss.”
Grey pulled a gun from his pocket.
Archon’s eyebrow lifted. He waved dismissively, and the bum flew across the drainage channel face-first into the wall, striking with a loud fleshy thump. Grey Tatter screamed and twisted against the metal as a crushing force rolled him onto his back, feet off the ground.
“Stop it,” Althea yelled.
“Come on then, luv. We’ll pause on the way an’ get you some proper brekky.” The woman in the coat smiled.
“Certainly. I think we can spare a moment to feed the urchin.” Archon again sounded bored. “Come with us, and he lives. Dawdle and he dies. There are quite a number of tramps here to play this game with. How many shall it take?”
Shepherd roared and grabbed an empty plastisteel shipping box. Archon raised both eyebrows. The giant hurled it hard enough to knock himself over onto all fours. It sailed to an abrupt halt a few feet away, motionless in space for seconds, before rocketing back at the metal-armed guardian. Shepherd leapt into a punch that launched the deformed box into the wall with a tremendous hollow clatter. He leaned forward, preparing to charge at them.
“That yobbo may be an issue. Would you mind, dear?” Archon mumbled.
The woman leaned back, raising her arms to the sides. An upwelling of energy surrounded her; invisible to the eye, but Althea felt it. The fragrance of ozone filled the air seconds before a cobweb of crawling electrical arcs threaded up from the plastisteel ground and jumped to various points on the big man’s body.
With a bestial wail of agony, he fell, shuddering and twitching out of control. Althea stared in horror at him, then to Grey Tatter, who gasped for breath.
“Stop. Stop. Stop.” Althea stomped her foot with a loud slap in time with each word. “Please don’t hurt anyone else!”
The woman relaxed; the lightning receded. Shepherd’s skin was hot to the touch, and spasmodic trembles rocked through his back.
“He’s just stunned, luv. Best come with before he gets up and I give him worse.” The woman waved at her.
Althea knelt by his head, wiping the sweat from his brow. “Please watch after Violet. I don’t know if I’ll see you again.”
He moaned in protest.
“They’ll kill you if I don’t go.” She closed her eyes, forcing the tears back. “They’ll kill Whisk and everyone here.”
Head down, she stood and plodded over to the first two people she considered hating.
The woman broke a twenty-second staring contest first, looking off to the side. “James, I got a dodgy feelin’ about this nipper. Maybe Aurora was right… maybe we―”
Archon leaned to the woman with a rushed whisper. “Bollocks. Get her in the car.”
“Oh, dear.” Archon took a step back from Althea, covering his nose. “You eh… tend to the ragamuffin. She rather needs a bath.”
The woman took her by the hand and walked her to the ladder.
“Spare us the sniveling plea.” He peered through his fingers at her. “I know how you feel about being on a tether. You do not believe me now, but I am trying to elevate you from this life. If only you knew your potential. A magnificent person like you deserves so much more than what life has given you. Are you not displeased with how the world treats you?”
She stared at her dirty feet.
“Fine then,” he snapped. “Up you go.”
Althea dragged herself up the ladder, glaring doom at the stained metal inches behind it. The white-haired woman guided her to the door of the overlong car, and put her in a rear-facing seat before sitting opposite her. Archon entered from the other side, taking a spot facing forward next to the woma
n. He tucked himself as far away from her as he could get and still be inside, and kept one hand over his nose.
“I’m Anna, but you can call me Pixie if you like.” She smiled in an attempt to be disarming.
Ignoring her, Althea looked out the window at the bums. Grey staggered out of sight into his box, and the others collected to watch the car roll away. The echoing bellow from Shepherd made her cry. Cool breezes came from all around her, thick with the sweet scent of clean.
“We found ourselves a cute little moggie, didn’t we?” She winked at Archon before wiping at Althea’s face with a moistened cloth. “You ‘ave such pretty eyes.”
She sat stone-faced, disregarding this awful woman’s attempts at motherly care. The street fell away from the window as the car went into the air. Her fingers whitened into the soft black seat and her toes tried to grip the carpeting. Flying in a car terrified her, and she stared at her lap not to have to see the buildings flashing by.
The trembling came; fear of what awaited her mixed with the despair of being so close to going home and getting taken away yet again. She wallowed in sadness until blurry shouting pierced her veil of misery and the fragrance of burned electronics picked at her senses. Snapping sounds by her face brought her eyes open to the sight of Archon’s fingers two inches away. Pixie curled to the side, bawling like a child whose dog had just died.
“Stop that straight away.” He seemed to want to give her a light slap, but hesitated at the thought of touching her. “You’re going to make us crash.”
A flash of sparks and smoke burst from behind her; the sobbing man behind the wheel halfheartedly swatted at the console where fire had erupted. The world swayed and rocked as they dropped out of the sky.
“I’m not doing that sparks,” she whined.
A force seized Althea’s head, making her look at Pixie.
“No, Annabelle is. That telempathic sobby drivel you’re radiating has sent her all sixes and sevens. When she gets upset, electronics tend to go a bit wonky… usually in rather disastrous ways. It would be best for all of us if you put a lid on it.”
“Huh?” Althea looked back and forth between them.
He sighed at the roof of the car. She got the feeling he wanted to kill someone. “Look, child, cut the telempathy, or I’ll stop it for you.”
Folding her arms, she realized her longing for Karina and Father had been leaking. Archon had little reaction, but Pixie acted like Althea felt. She stared at the floor, trying as best she could not to throw her emotions outward. The car leveled off and the ride continued in quiet.
“Hey…” The woman reached out and held her hand. “I was pretty messed up when Archon found me, too.”
Althea glowered. “I’m not messed up. You’re kidnapping me.”
“You’re living with tramps,” she said, raising her voice. “You’re a child. A special, pretty little child. The street is no place for you. All we want is to give you the home you deserve. You’ve got nothing to fear. We won’t hurt you.”
“I have a home. Why won’t you let me go there?” She squeezed the woman’s hand.
“That wretched place is no home for someone like us.” Archon glanced at her. “I’ve been searching for you for a long time. Those Badlands are dreadful, worse than the street detritus we found you with.”
“Querq is nice. I miss my family.” She pulled away from Pixie’s attempts at consolation, huddling against the door.
Will you hurry this along, please? Her stink is seeping into the fabric; we will smell it for months. Althea overheard his telepathic request of the driver.
“Sorry I stink. I don’t want to ruin your car… you can just let me out anywhere.” She smiled.
Archon chuckled. “Clever girl.”
Pixie reached to comfort her again, but she cringed away, drawing a sigh. “Didn’t Aurora say she was all sugar and spice? She seems a wee bit petulant.”
After leveling a glare off at her, Althea shouted, “I am not your pet!”
“Yes, Lauren did say that… always the obedient little captive.” Archon shook his head. “She went and got herself attached to some Badland drek that created the illusion of safety. You see, child, your feelings for the man and his daughter are not real. Given the conditions in which you have grown to this point, you have attached yourself to the first people to be nice to you. In a few months, you won’t think of them again.”
“You’re lying.” Althea’s shout made the driver roar with inherited anger.
“Sodding hell,” growled Anna, looking ready to murder someone. “She’s doing it again.”
Althea’s voice fell to a half-whisper. “You are a bad person.”
She felt as helpless as if bound; her abilities did not affect Archon at all, leaving her feeling like a normal kid trapped in a situation she could not escape. Pixie continued her attempts to be soothing, but she paid her no attention. The city slid on for some time with each passing building looking the same as the one before it. It caught her eye when the next structure changed, old and dead like the ones surrounding Querq; only larger, and metal instead of concrete.
She scooted to the window and pressed her hands against the glass, staring down at a large swath of city where the towers became much shorter and appeared crumbling. Ahead of them, an industrial complex spread out along the ground amid a network of pipes and conduits running between a foreboding edifice of dark metal and four large, hyperbolic towers, dingy white against the sky.
The car angled for the structure at the center. The eerie lime fluorescence in the windows stared up at her like the eyes of the thing from the garden. It had wanted her out of the Badlands; she had sensed the desire quite strong within it. Something about her had scared a creature made of hatred and suffering, and she wondered if Archon took his orders from it. The idea it now fed from Karina made her furious.
A flurry of sparks leaked from Anna, creeping over the seat.
Althea reined in her mood. “Sorry.”
They landed on the roof. Pixie took hold of Althea’s left wrist and guided her out of the car. The air was less sweet than inside the car, laced with the scent of metal and oil. She found the breeze stiff, but tinged with threads of warmth. Pixie led her down the steps of an elevated landing pad and along a greasy walkway to a door. A man and a woman with tiny rifles stood astride it like guards; both in battered, mismatched clothing. She felt jealousy on them, and gave them a confused glance.
The four towers, their white-painted surface streaked green to brown with rust and grime, were far more imposing at ground level. They reached far into the air above this roof, ringed with flickering lights and spiral catwalks. The most awful, low-pitched howl rumbled inside them from the wind. Althea stared up at the monolithic things, and swallowed hard, at a loss to understand this place.
“What is this?”
“It is an old power station,” said Pixie.
Archon gestured at the grounds with a sweeping motion. “I thought it an appropriate metaphor.”
She crept to the edge, peering down at the rusting network of pipes and abandoned vehicles. “There is nothing but ruin here.”
Archon frowned.
nna pulled her along through a series of staircases and corridors, past dozens of rooms. Some looked as though it had been many years since a person had been in them; fallen pieces of ceiling tiles littered ancient desks. A handful had been repurposed into small bedrooms. One held a twenty-something man playing with strange gadgets full of blinking lights. A pair of teenaged girls, older than her, sat on a bed together chatting while cleaning guns. The last occupied room they passed held a pair of blonde boys, younger than her, each concentrating on their own piece of paper. Althea leaned to watch, catching sight of a wisp of smoke and a sputter of fire before Anna pulled her away.
At the far end of a long hallway, a right turn opened into a huge white-tiled room full of toilets separated by flimsy partitions. A bright orange plastic curtain blocked off the rear corner, near a metal ben
ch and a row of small metal cubby holes with doors.
Anna stopped at the bench and let go of Althea’s arm. She pulled back the crinkling curtain to reveal a three-foot-wide clear cylinder connecting from the ceiling to a thick metal disc bedecked with blinking lights, small panels, and vent slats. One side of the tube had a narrow, curved hatch.
“I don’t like it here,” whined Althea.
“Oh, rubbish. Come on then, peel yourself out of those ‘orrible rags and let’s get you cleaned up. I bet you’re pretty under all that dirt.”
A place with no stink made Althea more aware she did. The lack of a bathtub made her suspicious, and she stood her ground. “No. I want to go home.”
The white-haired woman radiated a twinge of guilt, but kept it off her face. “Come on, mite. Don’t make this unpleasant. It’s for your own good. Those filthy things are not healthy.”
“I don’t get sick,” said Althea, with more petulance than she intended.
Overhead lights faltered, as if a decrepit bathroom in an abandoned power station wasn’t creepy enough when it was well-lit.
“Althea…” Anna reached for her.
“Okay!” She yelped and jumped back.
Anna took the battered tank top and skirt, pinching them with two fingers at arm’s length, and dropped them on the bench before prodding her towards the cylinder with cold fingertips to the back. Althea stepped up inside, whimpering.
The hatch closed in the tube behind her. To her left, a metal panel at chin level flashed with blinking lights. Althea glared at her naked reflection in the tube. This was new; since she’d made her skirt, no one who had kidnapped her had ever taken it before putting her in a cage. It felt a little too much like being put in a harem.
She liked these people even less.
Anna hovered at the gap in the curtain, tapping her foot expectantly. After five minutes of silence, Althea spun around wearing an expression midway between pleading and cross. “How long are you going to keep me in here?”
The woman gazed at the ceiling. “Oh, for fu―fudge’s sake. Haven’t you ever used an autoshower?”
Prophet of the Badlands (The Awakened Book 1) Page 37