by Ann Denton
“I’m sorry. Survive? You’ve made that kind of impossible, setting out drawings of my team’s faces. Dragging us here. Telling me you were going to kill this King, end the war—”
“You’ve spent too many years with Tier. War isn’t everything. Power isn’t everything. They’ll mean nothing when the freeze spreads. How will you save Das Wort then? How will you save the people from our town? Try to think farther ahead than tomorrow.”
“I haven’t had a chance. You haven’t trusted me enough to give me a chance—”
“You’re too emotionally involved. And not enough. You don’t care enough about everyone. You’ve sold me Senebal civilians yourself. But you’re too attached to her.”
“I followed orders.”
“Exactly! You didn’t think. Didn’t question. Didn’t resist. You don’t have a sludging moral compass!” Stelle’s words were like a physical blow. “Kay was right about you. And I resisted him for a long time. But I’ve seen it. You’ll drag her astray. And we need her.”
Still reeling, Lowe recognized the urgency in Stelle’s voice. “What are you talking about?”
“She has to hate you. I made sure she does.” Mala. She’s talking about Mala. He knew Mala hated him. Knew he deserved it. But to have Stelle add to it … Lowe felt like someone had detonated a bomb inside his chest.
His hand snapped out. He smacked her cheek before he realized what he was doing. Stelle’s head careened to one side. She slowly straightened. When she smiled, there was blood in her teeth.
“She’ll never look at you the same again. She’ll join us. She’ll find Kay. The source. And she won’t look back.”
He punched her in the gut. She doubled over. “You’re the one killing Senebals. You sent on that information. You gave them info I didn’t even hand to you.”
“Yes. We needed weapons. We needed soldiers.”
Lowe smashed a right hook into her face. “Why? Why do this?”
Stelle groaned. She didn’t fight back. She struggled for breath for a moment, before she straightened. She met Lowe’s eyes head on. “We need her.”
“Why?” He grabbed her collar, but she stared right into his eyes. Unafraid.
“There are demons worse than you out there. Maneaters.” She swiped at the blood on her mouth. “We have to stop the freeze. The only way to the source is through hell. Kay was leading us. But we lost him. We need more people. We need her. If—”
Lowe grabbed her arm and twisted it behind her back, yanking it up until her shoulder popped out of its socket. She gasped.
“Stop making up lies.”
“We’re out of time,” Stelle whimpered.
The door flew open. Nal and Prince Trova strode in, midconversation. They froze when they saw Lowe and Stelle.
Nal hurled himself at Lowe. Lowe used Stelle as a shield and spun away. Trova simply watched. Until he heard the latch click behind him.
“This looks like a fun party,” Verrukter drawled. “Mind if I join?”
Quick as lightning, the blond launched a kick at Nal.
Stelle tried to run toward the door. Lowe caught her by the hair, swung her around, and used her bodyweight to knock Trova to the floor. He called to Verrukter, “I got confirmation. This is your girl.”
Verrukter’s slow turn was the stuff of nightmares. Lowe dropped Stelle’s hair and tossed a canvas at Nal’s face. He and Verrukter switched places. He squeezed the package of Feuer in his palm.
Nal loomed over him, swinging an arm as thick as a tree branch. Lowe ducked but Nal’s other hand caught his side and a burst of bright red clouded his vision. End this fight fast. He kicked the man’s jewels. As Nal howled, Lowe broke a canvas over the giant’s arm. He pivoted and jabbed the broken frame at the back of Nal’s knees. The giant buckled, and his face fell into range. Lowe pressed the Feuer into his mouth.
Thump. Lowe backed away from Nal’s thrashing and turned to the other inhabitants.
Prince Trova was frozen, in fascination or horror. The boy watched Verrukter press Stelle up against the wall, lifting her by the neck. Her face turned blue. Her feet kicked out. But Verrukter didn’t let go.
Lowe walked slowly toward them. He took a second to whack Trova over the side of the head with the broken canvas frame he still held. The boy fell limp. Lowe stepped over him, deciding it would call too much attention if he killed a Prince.
He made eye contact with Stelle. Watched impassively as the ice in her steel blue eyes dissolved. Her head slumped forward.
Lowe stood where he was, staring at her. Her eyes were empty. He’d though they might look accusing or amused, even in death, but they were dull.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. Sorry for what she became. Sorry that he hadn’t seen sooner. Sorry that he’d let her drag him this far, blindly believing she was telling the truth because she still loved him. Because he had once loved her.
He turned, disturbed by the coldness settling over him. The silence in the room was heavy as a storm.
No more pictures, a robotic voice in his head intoned. Lowe nodded to himself. No more pictures. Though there was still the one of Ein to contend with.
He made to leave, but something near the window caught his eye. A canvas, small but vibrant. A woman. Dark skin, dark hair, impossibly beautiful and dressed for war. Holding an apple.
Mala. The sight of it filled him with a dread heavy enough to break his bones.
He had to get her out of here.
Chapter Sixty-Two
Ein helped Lowe stash the bodies in the hidden electrical access panel.
“You go find the kids. I’ll grab Mala. Meet at the air vent?” Lowe asked, hefting Nal’s arm overhead as he shoved him into the panel.
“Sounds like a plan.” Ein grabbed Nal’s feet and pushed.
“Then I’m taking them outta here.”
“And I’ll find Alba.”
“I’d forgotten about her.”
“Wish I could. The crazy.”
Lowe grabbed Trova and tossed him on top of Nal. “I dunno if she’s crazy. Not the way you think.” He nodded toward Stelle. “I worked with her for six, seven months. She was smart. Delusional but smart. Be on your guard. If Alba played the whole Center for months, pretended to be stuck in a meltdown when she wasn’t … be careful, man.”
Ein went to heft Stelle into the electrical panel, but Lowe stopped him. He gently closed her eyes. Then he turned away, melting back into a six-year-old. “I’ll see you at the shaft.”
The compound was in chaos.
Slaves in their rags and warriors in their pilot jumpsuits ran down the stairs. There was so much shouting Lowe couldn’t make out a single word. He passed the kitchens. He saw amulets out. People spitting and drawing signs on the wall.
What the hell? Lowe pushed his way through the panicked throng. Part of him wondered what was going on. The other part didn’t care. The bedlam would give him the perfect cover to sneak out Mala and Ein.
If he’s still alive, he thought, and a chill went through him.
Lowe took the stairs two at a time, hugging the wall to avoid the people careening down. Lowe could see the fear in their eyes. If he didn’t know better, he’d have thought the palace was under siege.
But then he heard them scream about demons. It could mean a ritual gone sour, a sacrifice that went awry, it could mean the birth of twins. The Erlenders had a thousand
superstitions about demons, and with the number of people here for tax tributes—not to mention those curious about the search for the Queen, it could be anything.
Or it could be Mala.
Lowe burst into Keptiker’s room. Mala was in the Erlender General’s skin, standing against the wall with his arms crossed.
The words were spilling out of Lowe before he could think. “We have to leave,” he said. They were out of time to hesitate. “Now.” His child’s voice cracked with fear.
Mala looked up, visibly surprised. “What? Why?” she asked, pushing herself off the wall
. “We can’t leave this second. It’ll look suspicious.” She picked a wool blanket off the bed, kneading the coarse fabric with her thumb.
Not if no one sees us leave. He snatched the blanket out of her hands and threw it back onto the bed. “It’s dangerous. Too dangerous. We can’t stay,” he said. His voice was starting to shake, but with grief or remorse, he couldn’t say. “Grab some weapons and let’s go.”
Mala turned Keptiker’s chin up and sat down lazily on the cot, kicking off her shoes. “We can’t leave. There’s too much chaos right now.”
No kidding. It would be a hell of a thing sneaking out of here, but if they could make it past the wall, they’d be home free. With all this talk of demons, no one would come looking for them, not until they were certain the demons were gone.
He grabbed an axe. Looked for a gun. “Yeah, I saw. There are exorcisms and crazy things going on in the kitchen. The servants are stringing up amulets like ornaments.”
“They had pictures of Ein. They were gonna kill him,” Mala said nonchalantly. She shrugged. “I had to do something so he could get out.”
Lowe stiffened. “He’s gone?” It didn’t shock him that Mala was the demon everyone was referring to, but Ein … Ein was Mala’s backup, her protector. Now if she melted again, she was doomed. Anger hit him like a hammer. “Ein just … left you?”
Mala shrugged again. “We’re out of here in two hours. We just have to stand there for Troe while he does a ceremony—probably some ridiculous blood-letting, rain-dance thing.”
Lowe barely heard her. He swallowed hard against a rising dread. If Stelle had already sent out pictures of Ein, she might have sent out pictures of Mala, too. Which meant if she melted back to herself, she was screwed a thousand times over. Mucking hell, Ein!
“Why didn’t you go with him?” he asked slowly. What do you think you can still do here? He knew she knew about the trade. She couldn’t possibly be here to accept her fate. She didn’t know the trade was bust, she had no clue the kids were gone. Was she here to sacrifice herself for their sake?
Mala’s expression shifted. She almost looked … shocked? What for? “You need him,” Lowe stated.
“We need to complete our mission.”
Lowe couldn’t contain his fury. She is here to sacrifice herself. And for nothing. Because Stelle had taken it all away. Even though his anger was at Stelle, he lashed out. “And what if they have a picture of you, too? You just put on a ridiculous demonstration of power. Erlenders are screaming their heads off about the devil and a spell to end the world! You need protection. Mucking hell! This will leave you … we can’t do this! We need to find him.” And they had to do it quickly. He could see some emotion bubbling behind Mala’s eyes, slowly coming to a boil. If she had a meltdown, it was all over.
“No, we don’t.”
I know you don’t trust me, Lowe thought desperately. I know you hate me and you have every right. But please, please Mala, let me get you out of here. Let me make this right. They were running out of time. For all he knew, Troe already knew what Mala looked like, and was hunting for her face in the terrified crowd.
“What if you melt down?” Lowe said, sounding as frightened as he felt. “There’s no way to reverse it. Without him, you can’t control your melts, Mala! You’re in danger!” In more ways than you could possibly know.
A twisted smile formed on Mala’s face. She laughed under her breath. For one terrifying second, Keptiker looked as mad as Stelle.
“You’re insane,” he said. The words were out before he could stop them.
Mala was on him, fast enough that he barely saw her move. She struck him hard across the face and twisted him into a choke hold. Her wrist pressed against the pressure point under his jaw and he gasped.
“I,” Mala seethed, “am not crazy.”
Lowe closed his eyes and melted into a heavily-muscled twenty-five-year-old. Before he could move, Mala slammed him against the ground, pinning him by his wrists. Her knee—Keptiker’s knee—pressed against his throat, hard enough to make him gag. The hatred behind her eyes held an animal fierceness.
“I’m sorry,” Lowe sputtered, and it meant a hundred things. I’m sorry I lied to you. I’m sorry I set you up. I’m sorry I followed orders. I’m sorry I ever let you love me. You deserve more. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know what those words mean to you …” He looked at the wall, seeing things that weren’t there. Mala, dragging herself out of the water onto the boat the first time he’d seen her. Their question game on the raft, her face after Blut’s death, the countless times he’d kissed her and hadn’t cared what anyone thought. All gone, all corrupted. She would look back at every moment they shared and wonder when the lying started.
But he could tell her. He could give her that much.
There were tears in his eyes when he looked back at her. “I would never hurt you—”
“Don’t,” she snarled. Her skin bubbled turning white, the black of Keptiker’s hair leeching away into penny-red…
Lowe scrambled out from beneath her, his heart pounding. No, no, that’s not possible, that’s not possible.
But he was looking right at her. Stelle’s eyes narrowed, and she flung herself at him, shrieking.
“You’d never hurt me?” she screamed, slamming her knee into his gut. “But trading is okay? Selling me?” She wrapped her hands around his throat, digging her nails into his skin. Blood trickled down her knuckles, pooling at Lowe’s collar. Black crept into the edges of his vision. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t move. Lowe stared up into Mala’s eyes, cold and hard and merciless, and watched as she raised her fist.
He barely felt the blow. Before the dark set in, he managed a single strangled thought:
But, Mala can’t melt into the dead.
Chapter Sixty-Three
“You dead?” A rough kick on the bottom of his foot made Lowe groan. “Good. Get up.” Verrukter ordered.
Lowe dragged his eyes open, blinking in the harsh light of the lantern Verrukter held. “Give me a minute.”
“We don’t have a minute. Anyone could walk in.” Verrukter threw something at Lowe. “Get dressed.” We need to find a safe spot and regroup.”
Lowe forced his sore arms through the armholes of the ratty t-shirt. He grabbed the pants and boots Verrukter tossed him next. “What happened?”
“Kids blew it, I guess.”
“Muck.”
“Yeah. They weren’t at the shafts. I went back outside. All Beza’s little friends had their throats slit.”
“Beza?”
Verrukter shrugged. “Musta’ gone through. He wasn’t there. That guard was there though, eating an apple while he stripped their clothes.”
“These his?” Lowe pointed at his new gear.
“Yup.”
“It’s still a nightmare out there,” Verrukter said, jerking his head at the door. “We should get outta this room while everybody’s distracted. Here, I’ve got some ink.”
Verrukter dumped out his pocket. He had a pen, some string, paper, an apple core. Lowe stared at the little pile while Verrukter striped his nose.
“Wait. Was that the guard’s apple?” Lowe asked, an eerie feeling growing in the pit of his stomach.
“Yep. Didn’t think he’d need it. And we haven’t had apples in months.”
“Because it’s winter.”
“What’s that gotta do with anything?”
“You said Beza was gone. So the guard must have taken him through.”
“So?”
“So where’d he get the apple?” Lowe stood, abruptly, causing Verrukter’s line to squiggle down his cheek. He didn’t care. He grabbed an axe that Mala had left behind. “Follow me.”
Something pulled Lowe. His feet and his intuition led him. His mind struggled to catch up. But then he was at Stelle’s door. And he remembered.
“She painted it.”
He pushed open the door, ignoring Verrukter’s puzzled glance. He glanced to the side. The electr
ical panel gaped open. He walked toward it, axe ready. Nal’s huge feet came into view. The big man was just as they’d left him. But the rest of the compartment was empty.
Lowe swung around to look at Verrukter. “You didn’t kill her.”
“Man, you saw her. She was blue.” Verrukter leaned past Lowe, as if the bodies might be hiding in the shadows.
“Should have broken her neck I guess.” Lowe strode past his stunned friend. I knew that already. I knew that when Mala melted into her. He scolded himself for wasting time. He flipped through the canvasses lining the walls. Those stacked on the floor.
Apples. Apple trees. Hundreds of them. He found the one with the kids climbing trees. He stared. There, at the bottom left, was a familiar mop of blond hair. There’s no way. But there it was. She could have been with them when they took the kids from the hospital. Could have seen them locked in the boiler room. Could have seen Beza. His head pounded. But he needed to figure this out. Piece it together.
Verrukter came up beside him. “She’s kind of got a thing for apples. But what’s that have to do with anything? Where’s Mala?”
And it clicked. Stelle had shown him a picture of Mala once. Mala under an apple tree. Said Mala would be okay. But she needed Mala. To get to some source. To beat the freeze. The border.
Lowe turned to Verrukter. “What if the apples are from across the border?”
Verrukter’s eyes bulged. His hand went to his mouth, as if he could undo eating that apple. “You think?”
Lowe nodded. “They sent all those kids over there. She drew these pictures. Has one of Mala too.”
“What the Deadwater good does that do? Get soldiers and kill them? Why would she expose all these people to radiation?”
“She’s sick. Deranged.” Lowe felt another kick in his gut. “Verrukter.”
“Yeah?”
“Mala can’t melt into the dead.”
“Really? Wait. But her initiation. I thought she melted into Klaren …”
Their eyes met. And everything came pouring out of Lowe’s mouth. “Tier’s been hiding something. Been working with Stelle, that Chiara. The President—aw muck!”