Ryder pulls away first, taking with him my sense of ease, and causing anxiety to crawl back into my bones. I sigh and open my eyes to see him looking down at me with his usual mischievous half-grin.
“Remember this,” Ryder says, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he gazes down at me with more love and awe than I’ve ever known. “This is what we have to look forward to when this is all over. You and me with nothing left to get in our way besides ourselves.”
“Can we just do that now?” I whine.
He shakes his head a bit, the left side of his lips curling more into a cheeky grin, and I grumble in response. I know we can’t ignore the tragedy facing us right now. A girl can always hope, though, even for a brief moment. With another sigh, I reluctantly drop my arms from around the nape of his neck.
“Into the lion’s den we go,” I announce.
Taking a step around Ryder, I edge toward the front door. His arms trace lines along my skin the more distance that is put between us. First across my shoulders then down my limbs until his hands reach mine. He drops my right hand but keeps my left, letting me pull him along behind me.
Even a small child, with only the knowledge of faerie tales, could see that we’re walking into a trap. Still, I would rather face it head-on rather than slithering away like a coward. There’s no point in trying to hide our presence when everyone in the city knows we are here. No one will interrupt our journey until we find Cloudore, at the very least.
Hand in hand, we exit the museum. The streets remain deserted and silent as we walk down the road. Not even a crying infant can be heard in the lull. With every citizen seemingly holed up within their homes, the Arbiter will be in his as well. Northwest five miles, I take my direction by the sun’s position at a steady pace.
Without the need to sneak around or pause at all on our way, the walk is completely uneventful. The knowledge makes me anxious. My hand tightens around Ryder’s as we walk, but he never complains or whines. I’m practically crushing the bones, but his breathing doesn’t change in the slightest. I nonchalantly peek at him every few minutes and I’m worried.
The closer we get to Cloudore, the more his features twist and change into someone unrecognizable. There’s determination and rage on his face, and fire in his eyes. All recognize all of this, but not the animosity. I’ve seen his anger before, but not like this. This has been building up over years and years of neglect and loneliness. If I’m not careful, he’s going to take it out on the Arbiter.
Sighing, I squeeze Ryder’s hand and press forward. It won’t be long now until we reach the Cloudore estate. My pace slows a bit while my senses are on high alert. Ryder follows my stride without hesitation. Though we are mere yards away, I still don’t hear any sort of sounds within the vicinity. It’s chilling.
Two houses away, I strafe behind buildings to stake out the surroundings. Lightly letting Ryder’s hand slip through my fingers, he follows just behind me. He notices my careful movement and treads lighter on his feet as well. It’s like we’re completely in tune with each other without having to say a word.
More for me to appreciate once we have finished our dreadful task.
We approach the backyard with caution. It’s still so quiet that I’m worried everyone inside the city died of some airborne pathogen without anyone notifying the Unfavorable. There are still no Loyals in sight, so I step gingerly onto the deck toward the sliding door.
I take a moment to glance inside to confirm the coast is clear before slipping inside with my partner in crime behind me. Pausing long enough for Ryder to shut the door behind us without making a sound, I make my way to the right in search of our target.
Through the archway in the corner to my right, we pause for half a second before charging forward. No Loyals and no Cloudore.
I’m certain he’s here somewhere…
A cough from the room on the other side of the stairway confirms my hypothesis.
Although a cough is unusual in Geha, there’s no time to question it now. Not with our goal so close at hand. I’m aware it was simply to get my attention. I must take the bait and follow the sound, wherever it takes me.
Stepping so lightly I can’t even hear my feet touch the floor, Ryder and I inch toward the stairs. Two steps get me to the landing – the front door to my right and the stairway leading to the upper floors on my left. A beautiful walnut door is ajar in the wall opposite me, but it, and the wall, obscures my view into the room.
Edging into the room and pushing through the entryway, the surroundings finally come into view for me. My vision is focused on the blond hair sticking up from the top of a chair near the corner of the space. A large desk arches out to both sides from where the seat is located. Files and different sized tablets are scattered about.
The man sitting in the chair is holding a tablet three times the size of the rest in attendance, and four times the size of my Dad’s news tablet. I’ve crept into Arbiter Cloudore’s home office. Carefully measuring each footfall, I edge closer to the man who ordered the murder of almost a hundred innocent men, women, and children.
Gripping the knife so tight my fingers begin to cramp, I move to my enemy. Six feet of distance turns to five within moments. Five turns to four, and four turns to three until there’s mere inches between me and the man who threatens everything I hold dear.
Two inaudible side steps, and the side of Cloudore’s face comes into view. It takes everything in me not to slit his throat in anger this instant.
I want to savor this.
Still, seeing his gaunt, left cheek is enough to give me pause, too. Although hatred is present, a lifetime of brainwashed mandatory respect for the man returns to stay my hand.
His hair is peppered with silver and blonde. It’s thick, short, and gelled forward. He’s wearing a deep gray suit with brown shoes, a brown belt, and a light gray undershirt in the typical Gehian style. However, his eyes have always made him stand out from other Favorable: they are a mixture of gray-blue and lavender.
Arbiter Cloudore is the first to have such a mutation without human assistance. And even though his hair is starting to turn white, he has the toned features of a man twenty years his junior. He has no wrinkles and is as strong as a Favorable my age. His suit hides the muscle in his arms, chest, and legs beneath the fabric.
It’s not in the Gehian nature to flaunt our assets.
Lifting the knife, I rest the blade against his five o’clock shadow, making sure to angle it up ever so slightly so he knows I’m here. If I move the metal even a centimeter one way or the other, blood will fall from the tyrant’s throat.
“Ms. Travene,” Arbiter Cloudore’s nasally tenor floats devilishly up from his chair.
The very sound makes my limbs begin to shake with rage.
“Arbiter,” I acknowledge between clenched teeth.
Stepping around to my left, I make sure he can see me and know I have the advantage, even if this has been a trap. I don’t stop until I am situated directly in front of him. There’s one thing he needs to do before he dies: tell me why.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Cloudore giggles, almost as if he’s completely oblivious to the blade at his gullet.
His left hand is on the side of the tablet, but his right comes up, fingers curled, to hover over his lips as he snickers. He practically kisses the side of his index finger as he stares up at me with glee.
“I’m well aware that this is a trap, sir,” I announce. “But I have the upper hand in this situation. Even if the house is stormed by Loyals, one move and there won’t be any way for you to recover.”
“Is that what you think?” he laughs, his throat pushing against the blade.
Uneasy, I press the knife against his neck and he stills. His smile remains, but no sound is coming out of his mouth now.
“Yes,” I insist.
A small trickle of blood flows down to his chest from the knife. His hand lowers back to the side of the tablet as he stares at me.
“Micah would beg to differ,” he threatens, not once lowering his gaze from mine.
“What are you talking about?” I ask, backing away two steps while the knife remains outstretched before me.
How does he know about Micah? Has he known that my brother has been alive this whole time? Has he been keeping tabs on him? On our family? Why?
“You think I would let a child wander the city without supervision?” the Arbiter spits, his features contorted into an evil grin. “Especially one curious enough to go below our borders? We have had a Loyal following you this entire time. I have been completely aware of whom you were with and what you’ve been up to since you received your Rite results.”
Speechless, I stare at him wide-eyed.
I never saw anyone following me when I walked around town or ventured outside Geha…
“Fine,” I breathe.
Although, I should be surprised that my privacy was invaded, I’m not in the slightest. Not after him ordering the death of an entire village to get me back into the city. It takes me milliseconds to process the information.
“But what does that have to do with Micah?” I order.
“Oh, everything, my dear,” he sniggers.
Cloudore flips the tablet so that I can see what is on the screen. It looks like a live feed of Loyals using thick, black batons to beat my brother while Unfavorable are held back by at least twenty other Loyals.
Except these Loyals outfits look slightly different than those of Geha. There’s a horizontal gray stripe going from the left shoulder down to the right hip that our Loyals do not have.
Are they from another Favorable city?
My thoughts drift from what is important for only an instant. The image of Micah being beaten brings me back to my mission.
What the hell are they doing to him?! Was abandoning him not enough?!
“He’s your weakness,” Cloudore continues. “He’s how I get you to comply. If you want him to survive, then you need to stand down. If those men don’t hear from me in the next hour, they will smash his head into the dirt until all that’s left is a puddle of blood and a shattered skull left unrecognizable.”
My brain is telling me to focus and keep the Arbiter talking. However, my body is reacting differently than I expect. I want to push forward and slice the man up until he shows me that my brother is alive, but my feet step unsteadily backward, away from Cloudore. My breathing becomes erratic as well – my lungs can’t get enough air.
I look to Ryder for assistance. He’s standing a foot behind the Arbiter, watching me and waiting for me to tag him in. There’s a fire in his gaze. Knowing that his foster brother is in danger has fueled his anger even more. Seeing me petrified and powerless gives him the sign he needs to take matters into his own hands. It’s the last straw for him.
One step is all it takes for Ryder to close the gap between him and Cloudore. I see the knife before anything else. Ryder’s right arm reaches around the chair. In seconds, I see the smile on the Arbiter’s face droop into shock and the life drain out of his eyes as Ryder drags the blade from left to right along the man’s neck.
Blood oozes from the wound – a crimson river washing away the man’s tyranny.
“What the hell did you just do?!” I blurt.
The man is dead and I’m glad, but that puts Micah in extreme danger…
“Come on,” Ryder says, reaching his left hand out to me. “We have to go.”
“You just killed Micah,” I whisper, panic causing me to back away further from him and the dead man slouched in the chair.
“Not yet,” he insists, stepping toward me.
I stare at him blankly, not understanding his thought processes.
“The Loyals don’t know he’s dead yet,” he explains. “We have about fifty minutes to get to Landow before they hurt him. If we can get there, we can still save him.”
The panic doesn’t recede, but I’m renewed and driven by a new goal. I slap Ryder’s hand away with my left arm and dash around him. He’s right, we can save Micah if we get there before the Loyals find out the Arbiter is dead.
We just have to make it to wherever they are keeping Micah before they kill him…
My surroundings whiz by me as I run out of the office. In two swift movements, the front door is open and I’m charging through it, back towards the Geha House Museum. It would be faster to go through the Boiler room back to Landow, but there’s no way that stairwell isn’t being guarded at this point. The way we came is the safest route.
Focusing on the road ahead, buildings fly by as I sprint ahead with Ryder hot on my heels four feet back, as usual. He’s no match for my speed and endurance, though. The streets remain empty – we don’t see a soul on our way to the museum. I’m in the front door and darting to the cellar without skipping a beat. Ryder is several feet behind me now.
Through the sitting room and back to the kitchen, I throw open the first trapdoor. No fear here, I jump down into the cellar, taking stairs three at a time. The second trapdoor is a bit harder to open by myself, but I manage to lift it – letting it fall to the dusty floor.
Leaping into the hole, I bound down the stairs. Slow at first, until my eyes adjust to the darkness enough to travel without tripping.
The echo of the trapdoor slamming shut reaches me fifteen seconds after I’ve gone through it. Ryder is trying to cover our tracks. I’m not sure what good it’ll do now, but I appreciate that he’s looking out for me and the rest of the Unfavorable. Geha can’t know about how we are getting through. It just isn’t my main priority in this moment.
Before long, I see the end of the tunnel. Without hesitation, the instant my foot passed the last step, I veer to the right and straight towards Landow. All I can think about is Micah. I can’t get the image of him curled up in pain with Loyals clubbing him without mercy out of my head. He’s been through enough, he doesn’t need more pain because of me. I won’t allow it.
Landow isn’t far now. Dodging trees and shrubbery, there is only ten miles left. I’ve made it this far in record time – only fifteen more minutes before Cloudore is supposed to check in with the Loyals in the village.
I’ll never make it at my current pace.
Micah is all the motivation I need to push myself harder. I refuse to let him down again.
Although my breathing becomes labored, my feet continue to shorten the distance between my brother and me. I recognize the feeling of the muscles in my legs tighten in my thighs and calves from strain – something I’ve only read about in text books and never thought I’d experience.
Not much farther now.
I break through the trees and see Aukai’s large hut thirty-five yards away. Unfavorable are scattered about the perimeter that has been created by the Loyals adorned with the strange uniform. Those worn by the Gehian Loyals is a solid charcoal gray, but the ones detaining Micah and forcing the Unfavorable back have a Timberwolf gray stripe that seems to reach around the back, too.
One of the strange Loyals has taken position near the fireplace by the front door of the Elder’s hut. It’s a tall man with thick black hair and deep brown eyes. He’s staring in my direction as I run, as if he has been waiting for my arrival.
I have three minutes and twenty-six seconds to spare, there’s no way he knows Cloudore is dead…
The closer I get to Aukai’s hut, the more a lump of a body begins to take form at the feet of the large Loyal. I recognize the hair and the clothes. It’s Micah and he isn’t moving.
Whether it’s from the Loyal’s foot situated at the top of my brother’s chest, or something else is too soon to tell. I’m not close enough.
There’s a gap in the line of henchmen Loyals keeping the perimeter, only twelve yards ahead of me. I keep going over the situation in my head. The different angles and positions I can use to get through the line, but I don’t see a weakness. There is no way I will break it.
I must get to my brother and make sure he’s okay, but I won’t be able to break the pe
rimeter…
Still, I try to rush the line using all the strength left in me and focus it in my forearms as I ram the Loyals. I’m able to knock two of them out of my way but two others quickly take their place and grab me firmly around my biceps. My legs keep going forward, almost causing me to lose my balance when my upper body stops.
“Micah!” I scream, squirming and yanking on my limbs to release the hold my captors have on me.
With my brother now only two yards ahead of me, I see that the Loyal has a boot on Micah’s neck which is bent to the side. I focus on his chest but there’s no rising and falling like there should be.
He isn’t breathing… he isn’t moving, either. Am I too late?
“We knew you would eliminate Arbiter Cloudore,” the large Loyal laughs, an awkward tenor timbre emanating from his throat.
I look up from Micah for an instant to see the man staring at me before my vision begins to blur from the tears streaming down my cheeks.
“In fact, we hoped you would,” the Loyal in charge continues. “Cloudore was nothing – he was too lenient. Child’s play. Get ready for the new administration.”
END BOOK 1
After over 5 years dedicated to helping authors edit their work, SAMANTHA RIDENOUR has dipped her toes in a deeper pond. She has refined works for Elise Marion (author of the Chained Trilogy), Ed Bernacki (director of The Idea Factory), Karnika E. Yashwant (chairman and managing director of KEY Difference Media), and many more through freelancing services.
Samantha was just getting started with her first published book, Waiting a Lifetime, and is excited to share her latest novel, The Unfavorable, with the world. Working hard supporting her family and publishing hasn’t stopped her from continuing to write, though. If you’d like more information on other projects, or to purchase a book, go to her website at http://samantharidenour.wixsite.com/samantharidenour!
Keep reading if you’d like a sneak peek into another book Samantha Ridenour is currently working on!
The following is an excerpt from: The PCB Mutation
The Unfavorable Page 22