by Ann Denton
“How important is your first love?”
The shock was plain on Mala’s face. “No!” she gasped.
And in that moment Lowe decided honesty was a great policy. The best policy. Because Mala had not asked a question.
Lowe waggled his eyebrows, flashing her his smuggest “I win” smile.
Mala leapt to her feet, nearly capsizing the raft. “You are a cheater!” Her fury was adorable.
Lowe laughed. He gave himself far more credit than he deserved, letting her rile herself up further. “Manipulator, I’ll grant you that—but not a cheater. And … a winner.”
Mala crossed her arms. “Was any of that even true?”
Lowe’s stomach started to cramp from laughter. He couldn’t remember a time he’d smiled this much. Realizing that only made him smile more. “I’m trying to get you naked, and you want to talk about other girls?” He winked and gestured at the tattered remains of Mala’s shiny blue dress.
Mala stared at him a moment. Her eyes were fearful and heated at the same time. She reached behind her to the zipper. Her hands shook. She tugged, but it wouldn’t move.
“If you want it off, you’re going to have to do it yourself.” The sarcasm in her words was forced. Lowe pretended not to notice.
“With pleasure,” he grinned. Mala sat down and turned to him. He put one hand on her waist and another on the zipper. Slowly, deliberately, he pulled it down.
“You could at least tell me if it was true,” Mala said over her shoulder. “I deserve that much.”
Lowe’s hand stilled. He stifled a groan and dropped the zipper, but he didn’t pull it back up. She’s nervous, don’t push her. Let her lead.
But there was still her question to answer. There was no point in lying to her. She’d clearly not had an agenda. “Her name was Stelle. The Erlenders … stole her.” Lowe sighed, wondering if talking about Stelle in the past tense was back luck. He scoffed at the thought. Luck was for Erlenders. “Has anyone ever told you how good you are at ruining a moment?” he tried to sound playful.
“Sorry. Misanthrope,” she replied, smiling through her explanation.
Lowe bit down his grin. He started to lean forward, ever so slightly—
Snap.
Lowe turned his head to the shoreline, lightning pulsing through his skin. A shadow crept through the trees. He saw a familiar tall, thin silhouette.
What’s he doing here? The poison master was over a kilometer away from the Center. Farther than Lowe had ever seen him. Is something wrong? Is he in trouble?
“Game over,” Lowe said abruptly. “We have to stop here.” He leapt into the shallow water and pulled the raft onto shore.
Mala stayed silent, and he was thankful. He tied the raft to a tree and returned to her.
“I’m really sorry about this Mala, but I can’t let you see any more.”
Lowe pulled a small bottle from his pocket, liquid valerian root. “You’re gonna have to sleep until we get there.”
He touched her shoulder lightly, guiding her to her back on the raft. She didn’t fight him.
“And promise me one thing,” he said, tipping the contents of the vial into her mouth. “Don’t tell anyone about the way you melt until I talk to you again. Promise?” He cringed at the reaction her melts would bring. He had to get back up. Protection for her. Otherwise the fallout wouldn’t be pretty.
Mala’s eyes fogged. “But why—”
“Just promise.”
“Okay.
In ten seconds, she was out.
Lowe left her and ran into the trees. “Herr,” he called.
The poison master turned and smiled at him. An Ancient who’d gone blind in one eye, he was the only one of the ranked Ancients who truly fit the term. His skin was mottled with age spots, his hair reduced to thin sticks. “Lowe. Back already?”
Lowe nodded. “Sir … what are you doing here?”
Herr smiled. “Collecting red clover. My former collection spot is … unavailable.”
“You could have sent someone.”
“Yes, well, I have an ulterior motive as well.”
“And?”
Herr gave a breathy chuckle. “Let’s see if my snare has caught anything yet.”
The old man led Lowe through the woods. He clapped when they came to a downed log. Lowe peered over it to see a rabbit struggling, its leg caught in a rope.
“Perfect! Lowe, grab it and hold it face up for me.”
Lowe struggled to hold the frantic rabbit still as Herr dug through his pockets. “My newest creation!”
Herr grabbed the rabbit’s jaw, pried it open, and stuffed a tiny pouch inside.
The scream that erupted startled Lowe. He dropped the rabbit, which writhed on the ground. A few seconds later, it stopped. Stopped screaming. Stopped moving.
“What was that?”
“Previously, we had to get Engel powder into the bloodstream to make it effective. I’ve developed a new chemical compound. Water-activated. Easier to get in someone’s mouth. Less danger of getting stabbed with your own poisoned dagger. I call it Feuer.”
Lowe kicked the rabbit over. Its mouth was a blackened husk. His lip curled back in disgust.
“Glad you’re on our side,” he muttered.
Herr gathered up his treasure and put it in a bag. He began walking back toward the river, stooping once to gather up a toadstool.
“Trust me, you’ll love it on your next mission. Now didn’t you have a recruit with you?”
“Yes. I put her under.”
“A girl?”
“Yes.”
“You’re a lucky one. My first recruit was Tier. Pimply faced snot rag back then. You didn’t want to introduce me?”
“I wasn’t sure what you were doing. But I was pretty sure it would be something a level one wouldn’t be authorized to see.”
Herr stopped and stared.
“I can’t be sure. But, I think you’d better go grab her before she drowns.”
“What?”
Herr pointed at the raft.
Lowe raced down the slope back to Mala, who’d slid off the raft and plopped into the river mud. The water lapped at her legs and the mud created suction. Lowe strained. Until his recruit came out of the mud with a schlop.
Sludge. She looked like she was covered in shit. Lowe tried to dip her in the river, but the mud was too thick. And Mala was pure deadweight.
Herr chuckled behind him. “Well, she’ll definitely make an impression.”
Lowe grimaced. That’s what he was afraid of.
Chapter Eighteen
It felt like being inside a tin can. Black walls. No windows. A tightly sealed door. Only a thick blue neon stripe running halfway up the walls to illuminate the room.
Lowe tried not to let claustrophobia get the better of him. Or maybe it wasn’t claustrophobia. Maybe it was the fact that he needed a favor. A big one.
Mala was a problem. And not just because she’d interrupted his mission. Not just because she was a gorgeous distraction. Not just because every second here at the Center was a second he wasn’t helping Stelle. Mala was a problem because what she could do scared the Kreis just about as bad as demons scared Erlenders.
When people got scared they lashed out. His mind flashed back to the Erlenders in the boats he’d blown. A couple spots. A cough. That’s all it had taken. And they’d flayed one of their own. He’d like to think Senebals were better, Kreis were better.
But on some level, fear drives us all.
And so Mala was a problem. And he needed a solution.
Lowe focused on Fell. The Ancient sat at a desk littered with paper, her afro bent over a report lit by a single candle.
“Heard you found a recruit. Why are you here and not turning in an armload of paperwork to Aush?” Fell didn’t look up from her desk. She flipped a page.
“I need your help,” Lowe’s request was breathy, weak. But he needed an ally. And his old Recruiter was the only one he knew with the stones to
square off against Tier.
Fell’s eyes popped up. Her brown irises scanned his like lasers, reading the solemn expression, picking up on the hint of fear. She dropped her paperwork.
“Help with what?”
Lowe took a deep breath. “My recruit.”
Fell rolled her eyes and pushed back her seat. “It’s not rocket science—”
“She melts like he did. She can look like anyone.”
Fell froze. “Are you sure?”
Lowe gave a single nod.
“Why come to me?”
“They’ll freak out. Tier is gonna blow.” The head of the Ancients still couldn’t say Klaren’s name with a straight face. And he wasn’t alone, if the mutilated statue of Klaren was any indication.
“Is it in the report? How she melts?” Fell asked.
Lowe tilted his head. “How many weeks behind on reports are you?” He swung an arm at the cluttered desk. “No one’s gonna read it before the initiation.”
“What do you want me to do?” Fell leaned back in her seat.
Lowe took a deep breath. “Don’t let them kill her.”
Fell stared at him a long moment.
Lowe cracked. He started sputtering excuses. “He was great. She could be too. Think of how easy it was before he went off the deep end.”
Fell held up a hand. “I’ll help. But you know the deal.” His mentor knitted her fingers together. She was a good woman. But not a kind one. An ambitious one. Favors didn’t come free.
Lowe gave a stiff nod. “I owe you.”
A smile stretched across Fell’s face. She gave a little wink. “Don’t look so scared.”
A knock came at the door, interrupting them.
“It’s time for the ceremony.” A sweet little old man peeked his head around the edge of the door apologetically. “We need the Recruiter ma’am.”
Lowe left the room on legs weak as mud.
Chapter Nineteen
“I come to preserve the Senebal nation.” Lowe took up the chant with the rest of the Ancients. He tried to ignore the trickle of sweat running down his neck. He avoided eye contact with Herr—the poison master was waggling his eyebrows at Lowe as if to say, she cleaned up good.
Dreading Mala’s initiation ceremony, Lowe had hardly slept the night before. Despite Fell’s promise, he knew reactions wouldn’t be good. He’d tossed and turned, wishing he’d made deals with Herr and a handful of other Ancients. Fell was only one. Powerful. But singular. And when everyone saw Mala melt during the ceremony, there was sure to be an uproar.
The nearly guaranteed leader of the uproar—Tier—stepped forward, ending the chant. As head Ancient, he led the ceremony. His hangdog face glared at Mala. He was angry at Lowe. Angry he’d brought a recruit. Angry he’d abandoned his true mission. And those emotions spilled over into his scowl at Mala. “If you would join us, you must first pass the test.”
Mala stepped forward as rehearsed. She was nervous. But not nearly as nervous as she should have been.
Lowe’s chest felt tight. Like something inside was about to snap. He met Fell’s eyes before he stepped forward. He pulled a sewing needle—newly sterilized—from his pocket. He grabbed Mala’s hand. He wanted to tug it and drag her from the room. But he didn’t. He leaned forward and gave her a gentle kiss. Barely a touch of the lips. He pricked her finger. And then he kissed her for real. But even as he tried to make the kiss playful, he had to fight his fear. He had to shove down his own emotions. The initiation was supposed to help her melt. To sweep her up in the moment and the emotions and cause a meltdown to prove she belonged. He couldn’t meltdown with her. He emptied his mind. Heart.
It’s time. Lowe shut his eyes and ended the kiss. He stepped back, searching the crowd for Fell.
There were no gasps. No shouts. Nothing. Lowe glanced at Mala, who stood next to him. She was her own skin—as if no initiation test had happened at all.
Panic sparked in Lowe’s chest. But Tier only chuckled.
“Are you nervous, young lady?”
Mala nodded.
“Well now, you shouldn’t be. You’re one of us. But you’re Lowe’s first recruit. And sometimes nerves get the best of all of us. So, I’ll forgive him for the fact that he didn’t get you properly prepared for the occasion. And now, I get the pleasure of administering your test.”
Lowe had to force himself to stay still. His eyes met Fell’s in a silent plea. Don’t let him test her. Not him.
But it was too late. Tier pressed lewdly against Mala, determined to incite emotions in her and force a meltdown. Ein said base emotions had to be triggered. Tier definitively went for primal lust. Tier’s tongue snaked out. Lowe had to restrain himself for a new reason.
When Tier finally let Mala up for breath, Lowe tensed, ready to jump in front of her. But … nothing happened. Again. She hadn’t melted.
Every eye in the room turned to Lowe. That’s when the accusations started. Voices overlapped and hissed. He couldn’t tell who was saying what. He could only make out snatches of blame.
He blinked. After all his anxiety, he hadn’t anticipated this.
Mala leaned into him. “Am I the only person to ever fail the test?”
He nodded.
“I don’t know what I did. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Her apology was cut off by an Ancient’s jab to Lowe’s face. Smack! The intensity made him reel. Distantly he heard Mala trying to defend him. But the Ancients swarmed around him. Accusing him of betraying them. Of letting in an outsider. A Typical. Revealing their mutation. They dragged him toward a door in the back.
Suddenly, the hands were gone. Lowe was free. He turned to see the Ancients swarm in the opposite direction. Where Mala had been. There—instead of a sweet-faced, brown haired girl—stood a towering nightmare. Lowe’s worst fear was realized. Mala had melted into Klaren, the deranged.
He sprinted forward, oblivious to everything else. He threw his body in front of Mala. “It’s not him!”
The Ancients didn’t listen. Didn’t believe him. Herr lifted a sword.
Lowe waited for the blow. But Herr dropped the sword as if it were afire. Lowe glanced back and saw why. Mala had melted out of Klaren’s skin and into a young version of Herr’s wife. Lowe jumped on the sword before someone else could brandish it. His eyes swept the crowd.
Fell. Where are you? Where are you?
He pressed into Mala, determined to stay between her and the mob.
“Stop!” Fell’s voice finally broke through the din.
Lowe nearly shuddered in relief.
Fell strode forward, power and grace amongst the chaos. She stopped beside him, not acknowledging Lowe, or their arrangement. Which was just as well. Because Mala choose that moment to faint.
Chapter Twenty
A horde of Ancients, buzzing with questions, descended on Lowe like a swarm of bees. Back in Tier’s office, after Mala’s initiation ceremony, both fury and delight flitted through the air.
“Out!” Tier shouted, and the Ancients went quiet. A silent, uncomfortable battle of wills ensued. Fell glared at Tier. “We have the right to ask questions.”
“Yes. I’m not depriving you of that right. You can meet Lowe in conference four. But as head Ancient, I have the right to exercise my authority when it comes to unstable soldiers. That girl’s clearly unstable. I’ll send Lowe to you once we’re done.”
Fell stared at him another minute. Her eyes narrowed. “Is there a reason you’re keeping your strategy for dealing with Mala from us?”
Tier leaned forward on his desk, a predator’s smile transforming his wrinkled face. “Because you don’t like it.”
Tension crackled. Tier straightened up. “Lowe will give you the rundown in conference four.”
The door slammed shut. Tier turned back to Lowe.
Lowe recognized signs of fear. Mala could melt into anyone. Change her appearance at will. And only the most hated Kreis in history could do that. Klaren the deranged. And now, Lowe was
here, talking to Klaren’s killer. The head Ancient. Tier had wrestled with and beheaded Klaren when the other man went into a psychotic rage, trying to kill innocent Senebals. He’d killed the crazed man in this very room.
Lowe wasn’t surprised when Tier’s cheeks wavered. Wasn’t surprised to see his superior fighting a meltdown. Klaren brought back nightmares for many of the older members of the Center. Tier fought for control while Lowe watched patiently.
After a minute, Tier won. He turned his eyes to Lowe. “Now, that you’ve recruited that girl,” he said, speaking through his teeth, “you have to stay here. Pushing back your real job to do your fake job. Making it twice as hard for us to get our double agent close enough to assassinate that backwater ingrate.”
Lowe bit his lip. “I know. I’m sorry.”
Tier shook his head. “You’re better than this. Your record is better than this. You are one of the best Kreis I’ve ever seen. I pictured you on the damn panel one day. Maybe in this seat.” He cleared his throat gruffly.
“I’ll fix it sir.” Tier’s disappointment lay like hot asphalt in Lowe’s gut.
“Your fake job is too mucking complicated boy.”
Lowe didn’t respond.
Tier picked up a red radio that was hung from a cord on the wall. “Communications?”
“Yes?” A voice crackled back.
“Find Ein. Tell him to meet me in my office. Now.”
Two minutes later, Ein, the star Typical engineer—fabricator of the Dart, responsible for the hydroelectric system that powered the Center, and full-on arrogant jerk—stood in the middle of Tier’s office, trying with all his might to appear professional. The crooked collar on his silver lab coat and his clenched fists undermined the collected façade he was attempting.
The last time Lowe had seen Ein was on the dock, before the mission with Bet. His eyes flashed. “I owe you a kiss.”
Ein’s lip curled.
“For Bet.”
“Too bad about Betsy. She was a pretty one,” Ein countered.