Queen of Ruin (Grace and Fury)

by Tracy Banghart

  Val thundered up the stairs and took in the scene. While Serina was still frozen, he ran to the weapons cache at the end of the hall.

  “Still locked,” he reported back. “They couldn’t get in.”

  “Did anyone see where the men went?” Serina asked him.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “We know where they went,” Carlo mocked, his pimpled face red with excitement.

  “Come closer and I’ll whisper it in your ear.” Tiberius’s smile was cruel. His beckoning finger sent ice down Serina’s spine. She hardened herself to the feral grins, the vulgar suggestions.

  “They didn’t have keys. How did they escape?” she asked Val, forcing her voice not to shake through sheer will. “Could they come back for the others?”

  “If Diego hadn’t gotten jumpy, Nero would’ve sprung us all.” Carlo winked grotesquely at Serina.

  Val shook his head, his expression troubled. “Nero must have picked the locks. We searched their rooms, but we must have missed something. Nero’s a real piece of work. Quiet, sly… always has been. Women sometimes turned up dead during his shifts, and he had a way of watching you, squirreling things away.…”

  Carlo and the others whooped and roared.

  “Should we move the other guards?” Serina asked, trying to ignore the noise. Her pulse pounded in her throat. She couldn’t bring herself to look at Doll, and yet it felt like an additional betrayal to pretend she wasn’t there.

  “There’s nowhere else we can reasonably secure them,” Val said, frowning. “Maybe the in-processing room, if we cleared it out and jammed the door somehow.…”

  “That would take too long,” Serina said. “We need to find Diego, Hector, and Nero now. They could try to contact Bellaqua, or signal the boat.”

  With a rumble of footsteps, Anika, Ember, and several other women arrived. They stopped in the doorway at the sight of the bodies.

  “Val, let’s move the firearms and the rest of the food to Hotel Misery,” Serina said.

  He nodded.

  Serina unlocked the armory and handed one of the weapons out to Ember. “If they bother you, or the others come back, shoot them.”

  Ember leaned against the wall opposite Carlo’s cell and stared him into silence. Her strip of red hair caught the dim light and shone like fresh blood.

  Anika and the others helped Serina and Val carry the weapons and bodies. By the time they emerged from the compound, night had fallen with a great, garish splash of red. The sulfuric haze of the volcano had intensified. Serina choked on the darkness and the memories; the industrial weight of Lanos’s air had been like this, thick and strangling.

  They laid Doll and Scorpion gently in the clearing before Hotel Misery, next to the other woman who’d been killed. Serina felt their deaths, even Scorpion’s, like stones on her chest, suffocating her.

  Women milled uneasily around the broken fountain and the dead women, murmuring to themselves and glancing into the darkness nervously. More torches than usual were burning.

  Serina sent twenty women back to the compound to relieve Ember. “You see those rogue guards, you put them down, understand? Station yourselves in the hallway itself, and at the entrances to the building. Hide in the woods. If they come back for the others, we’ll get them.”

  The women nodded and disappeared into the night.

  “I need another twenty of you to stay here,” Serina continued, glancing around the gathering. “Protect our injured and the women too weak to fight. Hotel Misery is our home. Do not let them in.”

  Val locked the firearms in a room in the hotel, distributing several to the girls who’d done the best in training. Maris, Helena, and Anika were among them.

  Serina wished there was time to take the dead to the volcano, but they had to find the guards first. She couldn’t let them run loose on the island. They could cause far too much damage.

  “Where would they go?” Serina asked Val.

  “We should kill the guards still in the compound,” Anika said before he could answer. “They’re a threat to us. We—”

  “We said we’d leave them on the island when we escape,” Serina interrupted. Maybe it wasn’t such a large difference, shooting them now or leaving them to starve. But there was a chance they could survive that way. That was the difference. That’s what made the women of Mount Ruin different from the men. She’d made herself a promise that they wouldn’t kill anyone unless they absolutely had to. And as long as those men stayed locked up, they weren’t a threat.

  Serina didn’t want anyone haunted by these guards. And executing someone—staring into their eyes and pulling the trigger—that would haunt you.

  Val stared at the shadowy swirl of rock beneath his feet as he thought. “I don’t think Diego, Hector, and Nero will go back for the other guards. At least not right away. They’ve no supplies, no weapons. They would have gone for the stream first, for water. Maybe they’ll aim for one of the guard towers to give themselves a vantage point. Some of the towers have a few supplies, some food, maybe some water.”

  “Weapons?”

  “No. No weapons. Commander Ricci didn’t want any caches in the guard towers, in case a guard missed his shift or left the tower unprotected. He didn’t trust you lot.”

  “A reasonable instinct, as it turned out.” Anika glanced over her shoulder. Serina wondered if she was imagining the escaped guards staring out at her from the darkness. That was what Serina was doing. She shivered, even though the night was warm and thick with humidity and volcanic haze.

  “Let’s get them.” Serina bounced on the balls of her feet, nervous energy making her restless. “Before they can hurt anyone else.”

  They hurriedly split the rest of the fighters into search parties, each with someone who could use a firearm.

  Serina joined a group with Maris, Helena, and Tremor, whose arm Serina had once stitched up after a boar attack.

  “But I don’t know how to fight,” Maris told Val when he handed her a firearm.

  “Maybe not. But you know how to shoot,” Val explained. “You’ve done well in training.”

  Helena put her arm around Maris’s shoulder. “I know how to fight. I’ll be with you the whole time.”

  Maris took a deep breath, glanced at Helena for reassurance, and nodded.

  Val teamed up with two of Blaze’s lieutenants and a Jungle Camp girl, Shard, who knew the quickest, quietest way to the stream that ran through the heart of Mount Ruin.

  Anika joined a group with Mirror and three of Hotel Misery’s girls.

  Once firearms and unlit torches had been distributed, Val addressed the small parties, giving them each an area to search. “When you get close to your target area, douse your torches. Stay as silent as you can. If you see the guards, fire a warning shot so the rest of us can come to your aid. Or shoot to kill—these men can’t be allowed to wander free.”

  “Be careful,” Serina added. “Be methodical.”

  She shared a last look with Val. His hair had fallen into his eyes, and she fought the urge to brush it back. She wanted to feel the skin of his cheek beneath her hand, remind herself that he was here, that he was real, that he wouldn’t be swallowed by the darkness of Mount Ruin.

  “See you soon,” she said softly, and prayed that it was true.

  Three men without weapons or food shouldn’t feel as looming a threat, but they did. Maybe it was the heavy, humid night pressing close, or the red glow of the volcano pulsing in the distance.

  Serina set out with her team along the western cliff path. Their destination was the guard tower northwest of Cave crew’s former home. The same tower Bruno had been overseeing when he’d propositioned Serina, where Petrel had told her to always fight back.

  Serina could see the faint flicker of the other groups’ torches through the trees. Val was heading for the stream, Anika the guard tower closest to Hotel Misery. Cliff’s team had the longest hike ahead of them, to the northeast guard tower.

  Serina
led the way, a lit torch in her hand. She peered out beyond its wobbly glow into the night, and wished she could shake the feeling that the night stared back.

  The constant crash of waves to her left made it impossible to listen for the furtive scurry of footfalls or breaking twigs as bodies moved through the forest. Her imagination supplied the sounds, twisting them up with the real noise of the waves and her companions and the snapping torch until she’d almost convinced herself she was hearing footsteps, that the guards were pacing them.

  “What if I can’t do it?” Maris asked, and even though she kept her voice low, Serina still jumped at the sound.

  “Do what?” Helena asked.

  “Shoot someone.” Maris’s hands gripped the firearm so tightly her knuckles had gone white.

  Helena rubbed a hand down her back. “Then you shoot in the air to signal the others, and we’ll take care of the guards.” She glanced at Serina, who nodded agreement, and added, “We’ve been fighting without firearms for a long time. We know what to do.”

  Maris heaved a sigh. “This is so strange. I feel like I’m in another world.”

  Serina grimaced. “You are. Our world.”

  The path arced away from the cliffs and into the trees not far from the entrance to the cave. It was strange to think of it now, empty and abandoned, nothing but a few rusted chairs and the remains of the cook fire to show that it had once been inhabited. Serina hadn’t been back since the night of the fight with the Commander.

  “Hey, Tremor,” she said, a thought niggling at her. “When Cave crew moved down to Hotel Misery, you brought all the supplies and weapons, right?”

  “Most of it, I think,” Tremor responded after a moment. “Cliff sent the girls up to grab their pallets and personal belongings. I think they collected the food and weapons too.”

  “But you’re not sure.” A heavy weight settled in Serina’s stomach. Probably the guards had gone to one of the watchtowers or the stream. They’d have gone somewhere familiar. But what if they’d decided to raid the abandoned camps? What discarded weapons or food might they find?

  “I think we better go by the cave first,” she decided. “If there’s anything left we’ll take it with us. The last thing we need is Nero or Diego getting their hands on a boar spear or someone’s dropped knife.”

  As Serina left the path for a small trail that passed through the forest to the cave, her heart beat faster. The thought that the guards might have found their way to her former home, that they could even now be huddled in the dark cavern where so many of the women they terrorized had slept, made her ill.

  And yet, part of her hoped they were there.

  It seemed a fitting place to remind them they had no dominion here.

  Oracle would have approved.

  But as the trees opened and the yawning black mouth of the cave came into view, it wasn’t Oracle who haunted Serina, but Jacana. She felt the girl’s presence all around her. She and Jacana had stood just here on that first terrifying night, staring into the dark maw of the lava tube as Cliff and the others disappeared inside. Jacana had been Serina’s first friend on Mount Ruin—her first friend ever, if she didn’t include her siblings. Jacana was gone now; maybe if she hadn’t been friends with Serina, if she hadn’t been on the stage that last night, maybe she wouldn’t have died. Her small, pointed face and sad eyes wouldn’t leave Serina.

  “We should douse the light,” Serina said softly.

  “You want us—we have to go in there? In the dark?” Maris asked. In the flickering torchlight, the whites of her wide eyes gleamed like those of a panicked horse.

  “If the guards are inside, the light will warn them we’re coming. It’ll give them a target to attack.”

  “Stay behind me,” Helena said.

  Maris grabbed a handful of Helena’s shirt in one hand and held the firearm tightly in the other.

  With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Serina doused the torch and led the way into the tunnel.

  Almost immediately, the space shrank around her, until the stone hemmed close. Behind her, she could hear the steady footfalls of Tremor, who was used to the tunnel, and the tentative shuffle of Maris and Helena.

  Serina had lived within these walls for weeks, and still the air sucked from her lungs and her hands trembled the deeper she went. She walked blind, feeling her way along the walls of rock. The closer she got to the main cavern, the more she strained for any hint of light. If the guards had lit a fire, there’d be a glow along the lava tube; there’d be some warning.

  But no light appeared, even as the air changed, and the space opened up. They’d reached the cavern.

  She stopped, and the girls behind her stopped too. Silence filled the darkness. Serina held her breath.

  One, two, three…

  Still no sound.

  She’d relight the torch and have Helena and Maris block the tunnel while she and Tremor searched the cave properly. If the men were hiding in the shadows, they’d find them.

  Serina was fumbling for her flint when she heard a faint bang. Behind her, Tremor flinched. The distant gunshot echoed strangely in the cave; it was impossible to know which of the other search parties it came from.

  But it meant the guards had been found elsewhere.

  “Did you hear that?” Helena murmured.

  Serina turned around. “Let’s—”

  Someone grabbed her from behind. She screamed, and the sound ricocheted back at her from the walls and the other girls. She went limp, becoming deadweight as Petrel had taught her, and the man grunted at the unexpected burden. Serina drove her elbow into his groin and tried to twist away, but his hands clawed up her body, ripping her shirt, toward her throat. She twisted again and ducked, slashing at his arms with her ragged nails.

  Somehow, she managed to get away.

  The darkness was heavy as a blanket, filled with the screams of the other girls. Beneath the chaos, if she concentrated, she could hear the man panting. She thought it was just the one; maybe the three had split up.

  She backed away, bumping into Tremor, but she wasn’t fast enough. The guard’s hand snaked out and grabbed her arm. She kicked outward, connecting with flesh. He grunted again.

  Tremor pushed around Serina and threw her weight at their attacker, sending them both stumbling into the echoing space of the cavern.

  Behind her, the screams had stopped, but Maris was sobbing.

  Helena murmured, her voice low and urgent.

  Serina went after Tremor. The thuds and grunts of the fight were the only guidance she had, until a body flew into her, knocking her to the ground. She struggled, trying to free herself. Was it Tremor who’d fallen on her? Or the guard?

  The thought of Nero’s calculating gaze, his hands creeping around her throat—

  “Tremor?” Serina whispered shakily.

  “Yeah,” the woman murmured. Slowly, the two untangled themselves, moving as quietly as they could. The darkness was a challenge for the guard as well. He couldn’t attack them if he couldn’t find them.

  Suddenly, a deep voice filled the black. “You’re all going to die here, flowers. Surely you know that?” Serina recognized Hector’s voice. He let out a cold chuckle. “No one escapes Mount Ruin. No—”

  A flash exploded to Serina’s left, followed by the concussion of a gunshot that made her ears ring. A hollow groan, and then a thud.

  Hector didn’t speak again.

  “Did I get him?” Maris whispered. “I—I aimed toward his voice.… Did I get him? Serina? I—I didn’t hit you, did I?” Her voice rose to a wail.

  “I’m here, I’m fine,” Serina mumbled. She scrambled for her flint and crawled across the uneven rock until she found the torch. With shaking hands, she lit the oiled rags.

  Maris was slumped near the entrance to the tunnel, firearm gripped tightly in her hands, her eyes wide. Helena hovered over her. Tremor sat a couple yards away, clutching her elbow. Shadows jumped wildly across their faces. Serina slowly turned. Near the de
ad dregs of the cook fire, Hector lay on the hard ground, staring up at the rock above his head. His mouth opened and closed without a sound. From beneath him, a rusty stain spread across the stone.

  She stepped carefully up to him. The torch threw sickly orange light across his sunken cheeks. He blinked at her, silently, as his life bled out at her feet.

  “We’re going to escape, Hector,” Serina promised, her heart still pounding heavily in her throat. “But you never will. Mount Ruin will never let you go.”

  TWELVE

  NOMI

  OVER THE NEXT couple of days, Nomi and Malachi found a kind of rhythm. They took turns at the tiller, and Malachi kept up his lessons on how to sail, until Nomi no longer got so frustrated and was reasonably confident she knew when it was time to tighten a rope or change course to better find the wind.

  They slept in short intervals through the days and nights, covered their faces and ears when the other needed to relieve themselves over the side, and spoke, haltingly, of their plans to connect with Malachi’s friend Dante. Nomi thought of Renzo often and hoped they weren’t already too late.

  They didn’t talk about Asa, but Nomi saw him frequently in her dreams.

  Not dreams. Nightmares.

  Nomi thought often of Serina as well.

  Had the prison boat arrived on Mount Ruin yet? Was her sister even now on her way to safety in Azura? Nomi’s thoughts spun from Renzo to Serina, from fear to doubt to hope.

  On the morning of their third day at sea, Nomi woke to find, in the distance, a fleet of large flat-bottom boats roped together and anchored. She stared in disbelief as the floating village slowly grew before them. Mazes of rigging ran between the vessels. Tiny as ants from this distance, men ran along the ropes.

  Nomi had heard of these communities, families who lived just offshore in their boats, some of them strapped together to create whole floating cities, but she’d never imagined she’d see one.

  “We’ll give them a wide berth,” Malachi said, adjusting the sail to take them farther out to sea. “The fewer people see us, the better.”

  He’d gained strength steadily in the last couple of days. Nomi didn’t find herself checking his pallor anymore; then again, they’d both browned up in the sun.