The Lightning's Claim

by K. M. Fahy

  “Kitieri,” Taff whimpered, standing at the foot of the dais.

  “You have to run as fast and as far as you can,” she told him. “Try to get out of range or find shelter before the Strike.”

  “But—you’ll die.”

  Kitieri bit her lip, nodding her tilted head. “Yeah.”

  Tears welled up in Taff’s eyes, like windows to a stormy ocean. Before Kitieri could stop him, he bounded up the stairs of the dais and threw his arms around her again. The second warning shocked them both.

  “Taff, you have to let go. You’re running out of time.”

  Taff shook his head. “I can’t leave you to die.”

  “This isn’t about just you and me. You have Jera to think about—she’s your responsibility now.”

  The conflict in Taff’s eyes shattered Kitieri’s heart. No boy should ever be forced to choose between his sisters, she knew, but Kitieri was already a lost cause. Taff and Jera might still have a chance if they managed to escape to the Church of Enahris.

  The final warning hit, and their bodies seized in tandem as the voltage arrested all thought and movement. The lightning element within her reacted, bursting free in shooting arcs of deadly white light.

  Taff lifted his head from her shoulder, his tear-stained face a picture of terrified awe.

  “Kitieri, your lightning! It’s working again!”

  Kitieri looked down at him.

  “It always worked,” she said. “I could just never control it enough for it to be safe.”

  She felt the Strike lock in, turning its burning eye on its victims. Her own lightning flashed around them, striking out at random.

  It was too late for running now. He’d never escape the range, and he’d be just as exposed as her to the whims of the Blue Killer. Kitieri gritted her teeth, bowing her head to bring it closer to Taff’s.

  There was only one option left.

  “Stay close, now, Taff,” she whispered. His thin body trembled against hers, arms tight around her. Kitieri closed her eyes as the Strike came for them. She felt its pulse, like a hungry monster. She could smell it moving. The white flashes around her ceased as the blue bolt split the sky.

  Kitieri screamed, throwing all of her power upwards before the blackness enveloped her.

  “Kitieri? Kitieri!”

  Something was shaking her. Light filtered in through the darkness, pricking at her eyes.

  No, leave me alone. I’m tired…

  “Wake up!”

  Pain sliced through her consciousness as her shoulder was moved. She tried to swat the annoyance away, but something caught her hand.

  “Kitieri, please, you have to wake up!”

  She recognized that voice. Taff. He sounded scared.

  Protective instincts took over, and Kitieri opened her eyes further to the blinding light. Taff’s familiar face leaned in close, like he was searching for something. When his eyes met hers, a smile graced his drawn features.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Taff’s smile widened. “Can you move?”

  Kitieri experimented with a finger. When that didn’t hurt, she tried her wrist and elbow, then her whole upper body. Her body was stiff and bruised, but it still functioned.

  Taff helped pull her into a sitting position, steadying her with both hands.

  “I don’t know how, but your chains broke in the Strike,” he said. “We have to go!”

  Kitieri looked down, blinking the dazed bleariness from her vision. The shackles remained clamped to her wrists and ankles, and the severed lengths of their chains pooled around her on the dais.

  How…?

  “What happened?” she asked.

  “I don’t know, but I think your lightning saved us from the Strike.”

  Memories were flooding back to her now. The pillar. The lightning. Stil. Noia.

  Kitieri’s mind and body snapped fully awake, and she threw a glance around the Square. No one was in sight.

  “How long was I out?” she asked.

  “Twenty seconds?”

  “That’s it?”

  Taff nodded.

  The doors to the Church swung open, and Kitieri caught a glimpse of the red uniforms. She launched to her feet, pushing Taff off the dais before her.

  “Whoa! Stop!” an officer called.

  “Run!” she yelled to Taff, who was already going full tilt. Kitieri followed close on his heels to the edge of the Square, gathering up the trailing chains as best she could. As soon as the Church fell out of view past the tall buildings that lined the Square, she grabbed Taff’s arm and pulled him into a dark alleyway.

  “What are we doing?” he hissed. “If we stop, they’ll catch us!”

  “We can’t lead them straight home,” Kitieri replied. “Stay back.”

  Taff plastered himself against the wall of the house, and Kitieri leaned forward just enough to keep an eye on the main street.

  The sounds of booted feet and shouting echoed down the alley, and Kitieri pressed a hand to Taff’s chest to keep him still. His heart raced under her palm, and her hand moved with his rapid breathing. She wanted to comfort him, but remained silent, eyes trained on the sliver of road she could see from her position.

  The voices grew louder, and the din of boots hitting the cobblestones passed their hiding place. She watched the red uniforms run straight by, calling for the capture of the Manons. As the sounds faded, Taff’s heart rate began to even out.

  “What’s happening, Kitieri?” he demanded. “Why are they saying that? Why do they want us dead?”

  Kitieri sighed, tearing her eyes away from the road. She moved her hand from Taff’s chest to his skinny shoulder. “It’s a lot to explain.”

  “The short version, then.”

  Kitieri nodded. She owed him that much.

  “The Church of Histan is full of some very corrupt people. They stole our Gadget money and accused us of attempted robbery. They found out that our family was never registered with a Church, which is apparently very illegal. We’re criminals for avoiding Church membership, and they want us dead. That, and I’ve seen their corruption. They don’t want that getting out, so they tried to kill me like they did Noia.”

  “Noia’s dead?” Taff gasped. “What about Vina?”

  Kitieri bit her bottom lip hard. “They have her, and I’m going to get her back.”

  “Now?”

  “No.” Kitieri peeked back out toward the street. “We have to take care of ourselves first, or there will be no one to help Vina… or anyone else in this city.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’ll tell you more once we get Jera. Come on.”

  Kitieri trotted to the alley entrance, peering out onto the bright street. People were moving about again after the Strike, and she saw no red officers in the mix.

  She shoved the chains up her jacket sleeves and into her boots, eliminating as much of their clinking and swaying as possible. How the Strike had managed to break the chains without leaving the tiniest burn on either Taff or herself was beyond her comprehension, but all that mattered now was that it had. She pulled Taff out of the alleyway, setting their pace at a brisk walk.

  “Keep your head down and act normal,” she muttered. “Stay just one step behind me and follow my every move.”

  She hugged the walls of the houses to her left, clinging to the shadows cast by the afternoon sun. Taff echoed her every footstep, walking so close that his shoulder brushed her arm.

  A pair of red officers emerged from the alleyway in front of them, engaged in a quiet discussion. Taff bumped her arm, but Kitieri pressed on, watching them through her hanging hair. Without even a glance her way, they moved on to the next alley across the street. They were searching for a frantic escapee, not some poor girl walking home from work.

  Beside her, Taff’s tension was palpable.

  “Relax,” she whispered. “If you look scared, it will draw attention.”

  A few mo
re turns on small side roads brought them to their neighborhood, and despite her advice to Taff, Kitieri had a hard time keeping her pace steady. If they were lucky, they’d be able to make the Church of Enahris by nightfall. Her skin crawled at the thought of entering any Church ever again, but it was their only chance.

  When home came into sight, Kitieri allowed herself a small breath of relief at finding it unguarded. She reached for the door, trying its handle, but it didn’t budge.

  “I told her to lock it after me,” Taff said.

  “Jera.” Kitieri spoke to the door, rapping on the wood. “It’s us. Let us in.”

  Silence followed by muffled sounds reached Kitieri’s ears. She glanced down at Taff, brows drawing together, before they heard the clunk of the bolt lifting. The door opened with a loud creak, swinging into what appeared to be an empty house.

  Alarms sounded in Kitieri’s mind, screaming for her to turn and run. She caught the creaking door with one hand, staying Taff’s advance with the other.

  “Jera?”

  She leaned forward to peek around the door, and felt the cold, sharp blade of a knife under her chin.

  Kitieri froze, her blood running cold. She could see only the gloved hand that held the blade, its owner hidden in the shadow of the door. A movement to the right drew her eyes, and her composure crumbled.

  “No.” The word broke on her lips as tears sprang to her eyes. From the shadows of the doorway leading to her and Jera’s room, a red officer emerged. In one hand he held Jera by the shoulder in a firm grip, a knife to her throat in the other.

  “Kitieri.” Tears streamed down Jera’s face, and her breathing hitched as the officer jerked her shoulder.

  “Silence,” he commanded.

  “Please don’t hurt her.” Kitieri knew that begging would get her nowhere, but she couldn’t stop the words. “I’ll do whatever you want.”

  A third officer stepped out from Taff’s room, swinging his bat. “How kind of you to show, Ms. Manon. Will your brother be joining us?”

  Kitieri heard a scuffle behind her, but the knife at her throat pushed upwards to keep her stationary.

  “Get off me!” She heard Taff’s voice on the street, and her heart sank. Another officer pushed past Kitieri, shoving Taff into the house with a knife at his back.

  “That’s better,” said the ranking officer. “Now, let’s get down to business. I am Gall, commander of Division Three, officer of the Church of Histan. You are accused of illegal status in this city without registration to a Church.”

  Kitieri turned to face the officer, even as the cold blade cut across the skin of her throat. The smoldering embers of her rage lit anew, and their heat flushed her cheeks. Though her heart pounded, her words came slowly, heavy with the hatred that coursed through her veins.

  “I endured your beatings. I stood at your pillar. I faced your Judgement, and I survived. According to the laws of your own Church, I am innocent.”

  Gall’s confidence faltered, and he shot one of his officers a flustered glance before drawing himself up to his full height.

  “Our orders stand,” he said. “The Manons are still illegal in—”

  “So you admit it.” Kitieri’s ire cut across his explanation.

  “Admit?” he scoffed.

  “The Judgement is a lie. Your holy pillar was never about innocence or guilt. It’s about murdering those who oppose you.” Kitieri leaned into the knife at her throat, her venomous glare locked on Gall. “And I refused to die.”

  Gall’s expression grew dark, and he crossed the room to jab a shaking finger in her face.

  “That lightning was meant for you,” he said. “I don’t know what trick you used to escape, but you are no more innocent than the scum that fried before you. The Church of Histan does not tolerate criminals, especially illegals like you and your siblings.”

  “We’re not illegal,” Kitieri snapped. The blatant lie would never stand under scrutiny, but she needed to buy time.

  Gall cocked a thick eyebrow, twirling his bat. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. We belong to the Church of Enahris.”

  “That is not in our records.”

  “Perhaps your records are outdated.”

  Gall’s brows furrowed. “Be advised, Ms. Manon, that lying about one’s Church registration is an offense equal to illegal status. It would be a shame to pile further crimes onto your remarkably tainted record, would you not agree?”

  Kitieri held the man’s gaze as the bat swung menacingly in and out of her peripheral vision. “Since you hand out death sentences like candy, I don’t see what difference it makes.”

  Gall sneered, gripping his bat tighter.

  “But I’m not lying,” Kitieri said. “We’re members of the Church of Enahris, and that means you can’t touch us.”

  Gall’s bat quivered in anticipation as he glowered down at her. She could see the wheels turning in his mind, and suppressed the shudder that threatened to give her away as she met his glare. She nearly flinched as the bat snapped into resting position against the length of his forearm.

  “Prove it.”

  Panic writhed in Kitieri’s gut. Not only could she prove nothing, she hadn’t even the faintest clue how to lie about it. Was she supposed to have papers or something?

  “Come on, Gall,” the officer holding Jera said. “You know whatever she has is as fake as that PCR she used to frame the Church. She’s a liar.”

  Gall did not look back at his officer, but folded his arms across his chest.

  “A fair point,” he said. “Well, Ms Manon, what do you say we pay a little visit to the Church of Enahris together?”

  Kitieri’s jaw clenched, but there was no choice in Gall’s question. The officer behind the door reached out, forcefully turning her back out into the street.

  This time, she could not keep her hands from shaking as only one thought sounded repeatedly in her head.

  We’re fucked.

  Chapter 8

  The Church of Enahris towered over its sprawling Square, the setting sun reflecting off the tall, narrow windows that dominated its front. Though Kitieri wanted nothing more than to turn and run, she found herself fascinated by the staggering differences between this place and its brother Church.

  Bordered by a row of trees, the Square extended a warm invitation with benches and flowering hedges along the smooth stone walkways, all centered around a twisted flowering tree. Kitieri marveled as they passed, admiring the intricacy of the many slender trunks woven into one, their branches fanning out into a vibrant array of colorful leaves and flowers. The pressure of the knife against her back cut her admiration short, pushing her forward.

  They climbed the stairs to the arched front doors, and Gall pounded three times. One of the doors opened almost immediately, and a short woman in a gray dress greeted them with a ready smile.

  “My, what have we here?” she squeaked, resting a hand on her ample bosom.

  “We wish to speak to your Baliant,” Gall announced.

  “Oh, well… ah… the Baliant may be a bit busy—”

  “It’s urgent.”

  “A-all right. Just one moment. Do come in, will you?”

  The woman turned, and the officer behind Kitieri shoved her through the door. She tripped on the threshold, boot slapping down hard on the polished stone floor as she caught herself.

  “No need for that, good officer!” the woman said, waving back at them. “Just wait right here.”

  As she bounced away, Kitieri’s gaze wandered the Sanctuary. It was similar enough to Histan’s, with high arched ceilings and stone pillars running down both sides. Lamps hung from the walls, and candelabras stood chest-height to Kitieri. At the far end stood the expected statue of Enahris, depicted in modest robes with a rose in one hand, while the other seemed to be reaching down as if to offer someone help. Her posture was bent toward the imaginary recipient of what Kitieri guessed was supposed to be grace or mercy, and she rolled her eyes.

  Sh
e didn’t have time for sight-seeing. In a few minutes, Enahris’ Baliant would come in and tell the truth. This was just an elaborate field trip on the way to their inevitable deaths.

  Kitieri glanced at Taff and Jera, who were looking around the Church. Taff caught her eye, and she gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  She couldn’t save them. She knew that. But neither would she go down without a fight.

  Kitieri eyed the nearest candelabra stand, gauging its viability as a weapon. It stood about three big steps away, but the officer behind her had not lost his attentiveness. If there was some sort of distraction…

  Four officers in gray uniforms entered the Sanctuary, snapping to attention as another figure came through the door, white robes billowing behind her. Kitieri squinted as she strode down the center aisle toward them.

  This was the Baliant? Leader of the Church of Enahris?

  As she drew closer, Kitieri realized it was not a trick of the light. Strikingly tall and lithe, the woman before her could not have been older than twenty-two. Her face registered no emotion, smooth dark skin standing in stark contrast to her white garb, high cheekbones accentuated in the soft lamplight. Above all, Kitieri found herself entirely captivated by bright amber eyes, glowing against the woman’s dark skin and cropped black hair.

  “To what do we owe this visit from our brother Church?” The woman spoke in a cool, measured tone, coming to a stop before them. Gall bent forward in a begrudging bow.

  “Thank you for meeting us, Baliant Catarva,” he said, disdain clear in his voice. “These three stand accused of illegal status in the city of Shirasette. We do not have them on record as belonging to either Church, and yet Ms. Manon claims they have joined the Church of Enahris. With a history of fraud, neither her word nor her documents could be trusted, and we have strong reason to believe that she is lying to escape consequences. The only way to confirm her claim was to speak with you directly.”

  One perfectly shaped dark eyebrow twitched as Catarva turned her piercing gaze on Kitieri. Though her heart pounded, Kitieri kept her head up to meet the woman’s eyes even as her insides withered under the scrutiny. Her borrowed time was up.