by Ryan Muree
“Sufford?” he asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, I do, and she says you’re stealing from her.”
He teetered back but tried to hide it as if he’d meant to lean against something. His desk, most likely. It was too dark to see beyond the spotlight. However, it was interesting enough that he was beyond drunk and didn’t want her to know about it.
“I get it… I get it…” He waved the knife in her direction. “You’re working for Kimpert. You haven’t kidnapped her. You’re here to screw with me, aren’t you? She sent you to catch me at the Goliath?”
Her one wrist finally slipped free, but she held the rope. She didn’t need it falling and alerting him to what she’d done. “Why would I willingly get kidnapped by your crazy ass just to screw with you? Kimpert is a traitor, selling us out to the Revelians, and I have her locked up.”
“She was a traitor from the beginning,” he slurred. “You know Kimpert and me were a thing? We were partners.”
She doubted they were ever partners from Kimpert’s point of view.
“Right up until she ordered this stupid Goliath deal. Then boom, she cut me out of it, hired new guards, the whole shebang!”
Clove stopped. “She ordered it?”
“Of course! It’s going to make her a killing. It’s going to make her King of Ingini when she’s done with those shitty Revelians! When I get my hands on her, I’ll skin her from toe to head.”
“You mean head to toe?”
He’d moved just enough to see the bottle of ethyrol behind him on his desk. Half-full.
“Don’t question me. What did I promise you, huh? What did I promise?” He approached with his blade out, aiming for the zipper of her jumper. “That I’d string you up on my crane, naked, and then skin you alive? How about we cut this hol-shit and get to it, then?”
“Wait, wait, wait!” She squirmed. “What if I have a better idea?”
He paused and raised one eyebrow.
“I hate Kimpert, too. I want her dead just as much as you do.” The blade hadn’t moved from her collarbone. “I really have her captured back on my airship.”
He eyed her.
She nodded. “She’s locked in a cage in her stupid pantsuit.”
He groaned. “I hated her in those things. She looks ridiculous.”
“What if we go in together?” She looked at the bottle and back at him. “What if we go back to my airship, parked right outside Sufford, get her out, question her, take all her business—
“—Skin her?”
Ugh. “S-sure. Whatever—”
“What if we mess her up real bad, take all her business and her crates and that perfect little airship the Revelians got her, and then we ship her back to Revel in a box? They’ll send her ass off to Halunder in a hot second.” He laughed to himself. “They won’t care she’s a CEO. She’ll be treated like all the other Ingini.”
Her fake smile faded. “What?”
“They beat them up so good. Sometimes they even ship them back here, so we can see what they did. That’s how I got my Bongo.” He pointed off to the side, and there was Bongo, clear as day, right by the forge and cloaked in shadow.
Oh, shit. It wasn’t like he’d made himself known before then, and he wasn’t saying or doing anything at the moment. He was just… standing there.
That was definitely a problem. Trent was bigger than her, but Bongo was even more so.
But Halunder. Halunder was where Revel sent Ingini to be tortured and questioned? Cayn could be in Halunder.
“So, is it a deal?” she asked, the rope now slipped quietly from her fingers to the floor behind her. “Should we drink on it?”
He grabbed the bottle and tossed back a swig. “Now, look. I’m all for teaming up, but I still have to take my cut from those crates. I’ve been looking forward to it all this time. Haven’t I, Bongo?”
Bongo didn’t respond.
“He’s upset I won’t let him skin you. But he can get over it!” He tossed another swig back and held it out to her.
She took it, testing if he’d even noticed she was out of the restraints.
He lazily smiled. “Go on. Drink up. Make this right. We’ll go get Kimpert as soon as I’m done… with taking my share.”
This was it.
She took a quick swig of ethyrol, fought through the bite at the back of her throat, the burn through her chest, and gripped his collar.
He’d leaned in foolishly.
She smiled back and slammed the bottle against his head.
It shattered, ethyrol splashing over them both.
He wavered as she shoved him back and stumbled against the desk, bringing his hand to his bleeding skull. “You bitch!”
He’d tried to grab for her, but she scrambled behind the chair, reaching for the rope.
He tackled her to the ground, the rope barely grazing her fingertips.
Bongo hadn’t moved to help him. He stood there by the forge just as he was.
She stretched her hand out for a chunk of glass on the floor from the bottle and stabbed at his arms, his chest, his face—anything she could reach. It wasn’t deep enough to kill him, but she could imagine how painful it must have been every time he roared and more blood poured out of him.
He faltered, finally, and she wiggled free.
“I’ll kill you!” He lost his balance, forced to stay on his knees, still holding his head. Blood was dripping everywhere onto the cement floor.
She grabbed the rope as he felt around for his skinning blade.
Blood pooled in his eyes and over his mouth. He looked like she’d cut him a hundred times.
“I’ll find you, you bitch! I’ll skin you alive and f—”
She wrapped the rope around his neck, tightening it from behind and squeezing to cut off his airflow. He was still too strong, still trying to fight and claw at her. Her own hands stung, gripping the rope as hard as she could. They trembled from the effort.
It wasn’t enough.
“Bon—” He reached out for Bongo, but Bongo didn’t move. “Bongo!”
She twisted the rope, again and again, straining.
Finally, he toppled, belly to the ground. She sat on his shoulders, grunting with all the strength she had left.
Please. Please. Please.
He jerked and stopped, but she held. Was he faking? Was this a trick? Had she really done it?
She whimpered, her palms scraped raw on the rope still clasped in them.
He didn’t move, and when she released the rope, his head thudded to the floor.
She wasn’t sure if he was dead or just passed out, but it was good enough. Tears burned her eyes, and she tried to catch her breath and wipe them away.
Why was she crying? Why was she sobbing like a child?
Bongo stood there against the forge just watching. He hadn’t moved to save his boss. He hadn’t moved to do anything.
She wiped her cheek with a dry part of her hand, waiting to see if he would finally react.
He blinked and dipped his head.
He hadn’t cared she’d attacked Trent? Or was he that far gone?
What in the world did they do to the Ingini in Halunder?
She had to get out. She had to get back to Revel somehow. She had to save Cayn.
Chapter 24
Ethrecity — Ingini
Emeryss and Jahree nervously shoved their way onto the Ingini shuttle behind Mack.
Ethrecity was incredibly packed with ether-carriages, ether-lamps, and ether-smog. It was everywhere, tickling her nose and the tip of her tongue for some reason. The air was primed with so much ether, she could taste it.
Jahree gave her a nervous look, and she nodded.
Yeah, they were in deep, and she was beginning to regret it. Grier, Urla, and Adalai had their turn as guard duty, while Mykel, Sonora, and Vaughn went shopping for supplies and information for ways to contact Revel.
Emeryss wanted to ask how far it was to this Dimmur place, but
Mack had warned them against talking on the shuttle. No one spoke, no one was polite, so they couldn’t be either.
She peered through the grungy glass of the shuttle.
Cloudscraping buildings, all black or gray, and ether-lamps of every color were everywhere, even in the day. It was loud. It was chaotic. But it wasn’t exactly terrible.
Sure, the air and the ether were a bit much, but there was something special about a jostling place like this with so much energy. It was a different sort of hard-living at a hurried pace. It might not have been the warmest place in the world, but grand structures twice as high as the Great Library, towering like black monoliths, were still wondrous achievements.
Their carriages were unique from the ones she’d heard of in Aurelis, what with their running ether-lamps along the edges and spinning wheels. People were clothed, well-fed, all with places to be.
After several violent stops and nearly toppling over at each one of them, their shuttle car was clear.
“How far to the stop?” she finally asked Mack.
Mack looked out at the horizon of buildings getting farther away. “About two minutes.”
And then they’d be in Clove’s hometown.
The ground swallowed the shuttle and cast them in shadow. Walls of metal soldered together blurred past them. They were going underground, and they’d be stuck in the middle of the capital of Ingini, alone.
Underground. Beneath the city. The parts forgotten.
The dark places of the earth were like dark places of the sea. They hid the mysterious, the starved, and often the gargantuan dangers of the world. If this is where they were from, no wonder they were angry at people like Kimpert.
“You live with Clove?” Jahree asked without making eye contact.
“No, we’re neighbors. We grew up together. Only the poor live in Dimmur, or some part of it, anyway.”
Emeryss looked at Jahree, but he was too focused on the darkened windows in front of him.
The shuttle pulled into its platform, and they exited.
Dimmur had its own smell. Something a little rank and moldy, but greasy at the same time. It was the farthest thing from fresh or clean or bright. It was damp, gritty, forgotten. If the surface of Ethrecity looked chaotic and energetic, then the energy in Dimmur was different. It was… sad.
These CEOs had taken much from them to force the poorer Ingini to live underground, away from the light and space.
But a part of it was familiar, too. Visually, it was the complete opposite of Neeria, but the roughness, the edges, the eat or be eaten—it all felt normal here. It was probably more like Neeria than Stadhold had ever been.
Mack led them past rows of boxes turned from large metal shipping crates the size of her suite. They had markings and rusted sides. People had cut out doors and made houses from them. They’d even stacked them on top of others to form apartment buildings. It was ingenious, actually. Though the streets were lonely.
“Here.” He pointed down an alley.
“Where is everyone?” Jahree asked.
“Most are working. The younger ones are at school if they can go. The rest are either too sick to work or too old.”
A well-used ladder led up to the second and third flight of shipping boxes. Mack pointed to one a few crates back. “That’s hers.”
They followed him up the rickety ladder. Music poured out of some crates while the smells of lunch or breakfast wafted out of others. Someone was doing the washing, and someone else was singing.
These were Ingini like Clove, like her brother, like Mack. They didn’t care about the war. They didn’t care about Revelians. They cared about living. Just like Neerians, and probably like most of Revel.
Mack knocked on a soldered metal door a few times. It rattled, but no one came to open it.
He pulled it back, and they followed him in.
Except there wasn’t much room to step into. They’d entered into what must have been a kitchen with its single shallow sink, one counter, and a very low ceiling. All metal, rusted and worn in places, it engulfed Emeryss with the feeling of being trapped.
A bag with empty alcohol cans sat on the counter. A dim ether-lamp above them flickered, casting a yellow glow on the space.
Two soldered doors were off to the right, and one to the left. One of the doors was open, leading to a room with a sheet and a mattress. That was it. There wasn’t much room for anything else.
“What is that?” Jahree was looking at the counter where something red-brown had been smeared. He pointed, following the smear with his finger. Drops of dried blood were on the floor leading to one of the closed doors.
Mack burst through it into a brightly lit bathing room. “Clove!”
A hole had been busted through where a hose dangled out of the wall. A couple of towels with unraveled ends had been tossed on the floor. There was a deliberate hole in the corner with a metal seat, and Clove sat on the floor in the middle.
Mack kneeled beside her curled shape. “How are you covered in blood? Are you okay?” Mack’s entire demeanor had changed from tough guy to wilting flower. Taking her face in his hands, he checked her over, inspected her arms. “What happened to you? Where are you bleeding?”
“I got out,” she whispered.
“From where?”
“I got out, and… and…” She sniffled into a sob. “I think I killed him. I killed Trent and… and… I went to take a shower, and the hose won’t turn on, Mack. The hose won’t turn on. Cayn was supposed to fix it, but I made us leave and now—” She dropped her head and sobbed.
“It’s okay.” He simply held her, rubbing her shoulders and back. “You’re fine. I’ll fix the hose, don’t worry. I’m not leaving your side.”
She wiped her eyes. “I have to save Cayn. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do without him.”
Mack cradled her head against him, and Emeryss kneeled alongside them.
“I’m sorry, Clove,” Emeryss said. “We went to save you, but it turns out, Mack was right. We underestimated you saving yourself.”
Clove tried to smile, but it was only a fleeting second. “I thought Cayn might be here, you know? I thought, ‘what if he got out of the airship on the Ingini side, and made his way home, and he’s waiting for me?’“
Mack wiped her cheek for her.
“He’s gone, Mack,” Clove choked back. “I think he’s really gone. I think I lost him forever.”
Emeryss’s heart stung deeply as tears welled in her own eyes.
Death may have been a certainty, and it may not have been the terror some feared it to be, but the longer she stayed out of Neeria, the clearer it was that death itself wasn’t what plagued most people. It was the hole left behind by losing loved ones. It was the loneliness, the separation, the connection severed without consent.
“You don’t know that,” Mack said, pulling away to look her in the eyes. “We’ll find him, okay? We’ll figure out where he could be.”
“Remember my promise?” Jahree nodded once to her.
His features, too, had softened. He might not have been making grand gestures and fawning over Clove like Mack, but it was there just below the surface. It was in his crossed arms, his frown, his eyes.
Clove looked at him for a brief second. “Even if he survived the crash, Revel would have taken him as a prisoner. They would have shipped him to Halunder, and they… they…”
“Halunder?” Jahree put his hands on his hips.
Clove wiped her eyes again. “That’s what Trent said about his assistant. The ones they don’t kill, they send back marred and empty. I can’t…” She fought another sob. “I can’t see Cayn that way. I can’t save Cayn if…”
“What’s in Halunder?” Emeryss asked.
Jahree shrugged. “It’s a training academy in Revel. It’s north, northeast. About halfway between Lamnira and Neeria, actually. But I’m not familiar with it being a camp for prisoners of war.”
Mack glared back at him over his shoulde
r.
“But I accept it,” Jahree said, hands up. “There’s a lot we all don’t know.”
Clove looked up at him, eyes swollen and red.
“If he’s in Halunder, we’ll get him back, Clove,” Jahree said. “I promised you, and I meant it.”
Mack smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. “These, uh, these people really are Revelians?”
Clove nodded.
“And you’re really working with them? With the RCA?”
She took a deep breath.
“After you gave me shit for joining the UA?”
“I want to stop the Goliath.”
Mack scoffed. “What? Are you kidding me?”
“I want this war over with,” Clove said. “We can’t do this anymore, Mack. Kimpert, the mining foremen, the other CEOs, they’re all in on it. This needs to end. If Cayn’s alive, I want him back, and that ship could go over there and kill him. Not to mention all the other Ingini when Revel retaliates, including your brother. I’m done with death, Mack.”
He nodded. “Then, I’m coming with you from here on out. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“I don’t know if that’s a safe idea,” Emeryss said.
“I already threatened you once.” Mack stood and glared at Jahree and Emeryss. “I know your ship, your crew, where Kimpert is. I will not hesitate to report you all and make your job a lot harder.”
Clove turned her focus on Emeryss. “It’s okay. We have the extra room. I’ll look out for him.”
Clove’s eyes were intensely locked with hers like she was trying to warn her. It reminded her of when her mother would go off on one of her siblings, and her sisters would give her a “look” to keep her from saying the wrong thing.
Emeryss nodded slowly. “Okay. If you’re okay with it, then I’m sure it’s fine. We’ve still been trying to figure out how you can stop the Goliath—”
“Can we give her a spirit-damned minute?” Mack bit.
“It’s okay, Mack.” Clove wiped her face and lifted her chin. “We have to figure it out. I can’t sit here. I’m being an idiot.”
She wasn’t, but Emeryss understood how Clove felt that way.
“If Mack can fix this damn hose, then I’ll clean up from all this blood, and we’ll get back to Pigyll.”
