Eos (The Eos Dawn Series Book 1)

by Jen Guberman

  “Uh,” she hesitated for a moment, eyeing me as I sat in her chair, still dripping water onto her floor. “Just tonight, okay? After tonight, she has to be on her way.” She turned to look at me apologetically. “It isn’t anything personal, but I’d prefer not to get caught housing a run-away, and I don’t mind sharing my rations for a meal or two, but I’m already having to split my rations between Eloise and myself.”.

  “What?” I asked, shocked. “What do you mean? They don’t give you rations for Eloise?”

  “There have only been one or two other cases in history where a pregnant woman has been exiled. They don’t have any special clauses or anything when it comes to laws regarding the birth of children into exile towns—the laws just state that all exiles are to be given certain rations. Eloise isn’t an exile, persay, so they don’t give her rations.”

  “That’s not right!” I bursted. “What do they expect parents to do if they have a child in an exile town?”

  “Most people don’t decide to start families in exile towns. No parent wishes that for their child. If you ask me, they don’t give rations to children because they want to discourage populating exile towns. They don’t want criminals to breed,” she said with a dismayed tone.

  I looked at Eloise, her russet hair similar to that of her mother’s, but rather than hanging loose over her shoulders, hers was tied into a floppy bun. Her olive skin was smooth and unscathed, and her eyes looked a fair grey as she watched us inquisitively. Renée glanced at her daughter and silenced herself for a moment.

  “You can have the extra room. There’s a room next to Eloise’s that is currently vacant. Let me get you a change of clothes,” she left for a moment and returned with a small stack of clothes, handing it to me.

  “Come on! I’ll show you!” Eloise chirped, sprinting up the stairs, her feet thudding against every step.

  I followed her, my wet socks sliding against the wooden stairs as I carefully made my way after Eloise. At the top of the stairs, I saw two doorways.

  “This is my room,” Eloise pointed to the room on the left.

  The room was bare—cream colored walls, dark wooden flooring, a simple wooden bed with a thin mattress, and a cracked plywood chest at the foot of the bed. Eloise looked up at me for a moment and squinted.

  “What’s wrong? Why are you staring?” she asked.

  “Nothing. I’m just sleepy.”

  I turned towards the door on my right. A child’s room should have toys, books, something… anything in it. The room on the right was equally empty.

  “You can stay in here,” she said, pressing her back to the door to allow me in the room.

  “Thanks. May I use your shower?”

  “Duh! It’s downstairs on the right side in the hall. Goodnight, Elle,” she said, softly, with a concerned pucker in her brow.

  “Goodnight,” I forced a smile as I turned to close the door behind me.

  I tucked the mirrored box under the bed for the night, covering it with my jacket, and set the change of clothes on the bed—a simple pair of dulled brown jeans and a faded jade green shirt. I peeled off my soaked clothes, laying them out flat on the floor to dry. I shivered, the bitter air stinging my wet skin. Shuddering, I wrapped the towel around myself and made my way downstairs to shower. Their bathroom was small and simple, but clean. It was nice to feel clean again.

  Upstairs, I pulled on the jeans and shirt and crawled under the covers. I’ll be on my way first thing in the morning. I can’t stay here. The longer I’m here, the better chance I’ll get caught—I’ll have to get my stuff from the bush and then find a way out of Equivox as soon as possible.

  The next morning, I woke up able to see my own breath in rhythmic puffs in the icy air. I threw my head under the thin covers for a moment, hoping to warm up. Resigning, I decided it was time to leave. I hate to leave without thanking them, but I can’t risk staying any longer than necessary. My feet hit the frigid wood floor, sending chills across my entire body. Squatting down, I fumbled under the bed with my left hand for my box. Hitting nothing but my cold, wet jacket and the empty floor, I tilted my ear toward the floor as I peered under the bed.

  Nothing.

  She took my box. Eloise couldn’t stand the curiosity and she took it.

  I slipped my still-wet coat on with a shudder, grabbing my other outfit before tiptoeing to Eloise’s room. The door was cracked open, so I slowly and carefully pushed it open. Her bed was empty, and her covers thrown to the side as if she had just gotten out of bed. I crept toward her bed, checking under it and under her pillow, finding nothing. Maybe she put it in the chest.

  “Mom!” Eloise howled from the doorway. “She’s awake!”

  Panicked, I retracted my hands from the lid of the wooden chest. Suddenly, I heard multiple heavy sets of footsteps treading up the stairs. Eloise screeched and dove out of the way of two male officials in uniform. The men barreled toward me, and in a moment’s thought, I tucked my injured right hand into my hidden pocket, my fingers making contact with the chilled metal hilt of the blade from Zane.

  The men grabbed for me from either direction as I skirted backwards, but they followed my every step. As I tried to dart along the far side of the room, the shorter of the two, a man with a younger, round face and buzzed black hair, threw himself at me, slamming my back against the wall. He leaned down, holding a syringe angled at my neck. He jabbed the needle in, pushing down on the plunger. Almost simultaneously, I threw my arm out, plunging the tip of the dagger into his throat. Thick, hot crimson blood poured out on my face as I retracted my dagger. The man’s body gave out, crumpling down on me as I scurried out from under him in the warm blood pooled on the floor. My wrist seared with pain, my legs began to tingle and go numb, and then suddenly it was dark.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  I woke up in a truck. I tried to make out what we were driving through, but I couldn’t see straight. The vehicle rumbled and bounced, making me nauseous. My vision began to clear slowly, and the first thing I noticed was my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My hair was stained with blood, some strands of hair crusted over, others still damp as I touched them. I looked down at my clothes. The brown pants and green top were drenched in reddish brown. Whether from the smell of blood, the bumpy car ride, or pure nerves, I leaned over and got sick on the floor of the truck.

  I put my face in my hands, my wrists cuffed and my elbows resting on my knees.

  I killed someone.

  My eyes started to well up with tears as I sat, biting my lip. Now they’re taking me away and locking me up. I’ll be behind bars forever. They found out I ran away from Avid. That, and I’m a murderer.

  I sniffled and let out a whimper, which I cut short by biting on my lip harder.

  “We’re here. You’ll be escorted out of the vehicle, and your cuffs will be removed from behind an inner layer of security,” said the driver, a robust man with a thick red beard. “We need to know your name, and where you were running from so we can notify your city officials and your family of your exile.”

  “My… my exile?” I asked, lifting my head.

  “You have been sentenced to Bellicose for the murder of Officer Renald Harring.”

  “Wait, what?”

  “You’re going to Bellicose. You killed an official,” the official reiterated impatiently.

  “Bellicose?”

  “Yes. It’s where we send the overly violent. People like you put the rest of society at risk. You’ll receive rations and your own living quarters, but you won’t have any of the luxuries of living as a useful member of society.”

  They don’t know I ran away from an exile town. They have no idea who I am.

  “I need your name and your city of birth,” he stated plainly.

  “Elle Dusk,” I lied. “I’m from Eastmeade.” Another lie.

  He nodded, committing the information to memory.

  I looked ahead, through the front window. We were nearing the mouth of a massive cave. As we dro
ve closer, I could see thick iron bars blocking the entrance. The bars began to sink into the floor as we entered. The driver crept forward with the truck until we cleared where the bars had been. Just as we passed over the first set, a second set began to lower and the first set eased back out of the ground. By the time we crossed over a third and final set of bars, the driver put the vehicle in park. He stepped out of the truck, unlocked my door, and opened it.

  “Get out.”

  I wiggled my way out of my seat. Now that I was moving, I could feel the absence of weight in my pockets. They have my dagger.

  “Where’s my knife?” I asked, pausing.

  “It was confiscated.”

  “Confiscated? What’s that supposed to mean?” I shrieked in anger.

  “It was thrown away. It’s gone. Move on. Get out of my truck,” he said, his voice and face unchanging.

  I stared back in disbelief as I stepped out of the vehicle.

  “Stay still or I will shoot you,” he threatened, putting a hand to a gun around his waist. He started the truck back up and the innermost set of bars lowered again. He reversed, backing up just until the front of the truck cleared the sunken bars. As the innermost bars raised again, the middle set lowered. Instead of leaving entirely, he stepped out again.

  “Put your hands in front of you and approach me slowly,” he instructed.

  I did as he said, and he pulled out a key.

  “Put your arms through the bars.”

  I slid my arms through a gap, and he unlocked my handcuffs, taking them from me. Without a word, he stepped back into the truck, and before I knew it, he was gone.

  I stood there, confused. What do I do now? I could get the Bellicose key while I’m here, but I have no idea where the Equivox key is now, and Zane has the keys from Avid and Delaisse.

  A loud cracking, crumbling sound echoed from deep within the cavern, interrupting my thoughts. I turned toward the source of the sound, seeing nothing but the stony throat of the cave leading into pure darkness. I reached for the pocketknife from my grandpa, discovering that luckily the officials must not have found it. I held the blade out in front of me as I crept toward the illusion of oblivion. As I continued, the blackness encased me. I could no longer see the knife in my own hand. I was moving through nothing, toward nothing.

  Out of nowhere, a tiny orange light appeared. I changed my path enough to walk directly toward it, but its position began to change. I followed after it—the closer I got, the larger it grew until suddenly, it began to reveal the silhouette of a man. A lantern. They see with lanterns.

  I crouched to the ground, wielding my small pocketknife. I held my breath as the man turned toward where he must have heard the sound of my feet, still without my boots, against the rock and dirt.

  “Hello?” he called in a deep voice.

  I breathed softly through my nose, trying to stay as silent as possible.

  “Who’s there?” He looked down toward me, squinting. He grinned. “I see you.” He laughed.

  Unsure of what to do next, I stood my ground, unmoving.

  “Come on out, darling. I see you, and you see me. I’m not going to hurt you.” He raised the grimy lantern, illuminating a handsome face covered in a layer of dirt smudges. His eyes were crystalline blue, and they crinkled as he smiled. His cheeks dimpled as he beamed at me, brushing a filthy hand through his taper-cut, honey blond hair.

  “Look,” he insisted, squatting down to my level with his lantern. He set the lantern on the ground and held his empty palms out in front of him. “I don’t have any weapons. You do, even if it’s a bit pathetic.” He chuckled sweetly. “Please, stand up.” He held out a hand, keeping the other palm open and in sight.

  Hesitantly, I placed my left hand in his as he helped me up. He knelt down slowly, keeping eye contact with me as he picked up his lantern. When he was finally able to fully see me, covered in blood and without shoes, his smile faded.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I ki—” my voice was hoarse. I cleared my throat and continued. “I killed an official.”

  “I feel like I should be surprised, but look where we are. Nothing surprises me anymore—I know people who have unfortunately done worse than that.”

  “Does it not bother you that I killed someone?”

  “Frankly, darling, it does. But at least half of the people here have killed someone before, so I’m sure you’ll fit in.”

  “You aren’t curious why I killed him?” I asked.

  “Not particularly. I don’t find stories of murder to be of much interest. If you want to tell me, go ahead.”

  “I don’t—” I stammered.

  “Then don’t tell me.”

  “But I don’t want you to think I’m a monster—”

  “I’ve come to believe in my time here that not all ‘monsters’ are bad,” he interrupted, looking me in the eyes.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Society deems us exiles as ‘monsters.’ All of us. In some sense or another, they believe we are all monsters. But everyone has their demons—some are just darker than others. You have people who succumb to them, but you have some people who fight the darkness as best they can. Let me believe that you are one of those people. If you tell me your story, you can’t take it back.”

  “I’m not a bad person,” I said, my voice shaking. “I mean… I’m far from perfect. I’ve stolen, I’ve lied, and now…But I never meant to hurt anyone.”

  “I believe you.”

  “That’s it? You just believe me?” I stared at him in disbelief, my dry eyes stinging as they began to well up with tears.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “You’ve given me no reason not to.”

  I glared at him for a moment.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  I hesitated for a moment.

  “Is it a hard one?” he teased.

  “Eos,” I smiled weakly.

  “I’m Paren,” he smiled infectiously again, bowing his head subtly. “How about I show you around?”

  “Um,” I glanced at him, genuinely confused.

  “What? You’ll be able to see soon enough,” he laughed heartily. “It isn’t all dark like this. Rhyett, one of the guys here, he’s kind of a hot head, and he went on a rage spree a few days ago. He broke all the lights around the entrance, but the commons and most the living quarters are still lit. We’re hoping someone gets sent from the cities to fix the lights, but I’m personally not too optimistic about it.”

  “Oh.”

  “Come on, let me show you around,” he smiled, holding a bent arm out to escort me.

  I tucked my hand awkwardly through his arm as he escorted me through the rest of the darkness by a lantern.

  After Paren led me down a couple turns, I could see the glow of a lit area that gradually grew closer as we continued. Soon, we were in a small passage of the cavern that was fully illuminated by hanging bulbs. There was an aged wire poking out in spots along the ceiling, and the only piece of furniture in the room was a splintering wooden table along one of the sides.

  “Through here,” he guided, grabbing for my hand to lead the way, but he grabbed for my right wrist with too much force.

  I squeaked in pain, retracting my hand and clutching my wrist.

  “Oh shoot,” he said, looking at me with sincere regret. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “No, it isn’t your fault. I hurt my wrist the other day.”

  “Are you still able to move it?”

  “Yes.”

  “May I?” he asked, holding his hands out toward mine. “I just want to take a look at it.”

  “Sure,” I said, holding it out for him.

  “How did you hurt it?” he asked, gently turning it over in his hands, running his fingers over the skin of my swollen wrist.

  “I fell from a tree and landed on it.”

  “I’d ask why you were in a tree, but I feel like it’s a long st
ory,” he smiled, looking up at me with his electric blue eyes.

  “Heh, yeah. Bit of an understatement.”

  “Don’t worry about it. Maybe you can tell me later. But for now, I’m going to show you around a bit more, and then I’m going to take care of that wrist for you before it gets worse.”

  I looked at him speechless for a moment.

  “Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked.

  “Have you given me a reason not to be?”

  “But, you’re in Bellicose. I mean, doesn’t that mean you’re violent? I’d be more likely to expect you to punch me than to help me.”

  “Didn’t you listen to me earlier?” he asked. “Some people try to fight the darkness. I don’t want to be a bad person.”

  “Why are you here then? I’m having a hard time believing that someone who was exiled to Bellicose could be friendly.”

  He laughed. “It’s a long story why I’m here. How about I tell you over dinner?”

  “Are you asking me out?”

  “Hah! I don’t know if I would call it that. Rations in a cave aren’t exactly what I would call romantic, but call it what you want, darling.”

  I giggled. I must look completely and utterly mad, sitting here covered in blood, with no shoes, hanging out in a cave and giggling like I’m actually enjoying myself.

  “Is your other hand okay?” he asked, reaching for it tentatively.

  “Yeah,” I said, taking his hand as he guided me through an opening at the other end of the room. The ceiling was fairly low, but I only had to duck my head slightly to make it through.

  The room I saw when we cleared the passage was massive. The atmosphere was filled with a warm amber glow. I looked up, spotting individual soft, auburn light bulbs fixed in the ceiling at various points. Stalactites decorated the ceiling; droplets of water dripped off of some of them and onto the damp stone floor. The water on the ground reflected the amber color of the lights, as well as the radiance of a few lanterns set on rotting wood tables. Half a dozen or so people turned to look at the newcomer as I entered. I stood, angling myself behind Paren as they eyed me.

  Paren nodded to the group as he continued escorting me, keeping me close to his side.