by Travis Brett
Juliette’s voice. “I wondered when you’d show up.”
She stood to his left, five paces away, holding a bow. It was drawn and pointed at him.
“You’re in my way,” she said.
Roman turned around, confused. Sure enough, hardly visible in the faint light, a target board hung from the opposite wall. Half a dozen arrows already stuck out of it. Her aim was good.
Roman quickly stepped aside. “I didn’t think you’d be one to actually use a weapon. Doesn’t seem your style.”
“You don’t know me at all.” Juliette’s deep voice echoed in the darkness. She took the shot, and the arrow flew the length of the room with a soft whistle, landing just half an inch from the bulls-eye.
Roman raised an eyebrow. “Ruby would have done better.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment. After all, she was my best pupil.”
Now that surprised him. He had never imagined Juliette would have personally helped train militia. Maybe Ruby had been a special case? That would explain why Juliette was so pissed off Ruby left the militia to join Roman.
“She sends her regards,” he said.
“She did?”
“No.”
She snorted. “You know, one day Ruby will come back to me. If you haven’t got her killed before then.”
“I won’t let that happen.”
“Did you promise the same thing to Harry?”
“Don’t you dare bring him into this.”
Juliette smirked. “You can’t deny it. Ever since Stevens died, you’ve brought nothing but death to Legacy. Harry won’t be the last good man that ends up dead because he joined you.”
It took all of Roman’s self-control not to shoot her.
Juliette drew and nocked another arrow, taking her time as she lined up the shot. “Enough small talk. Why are you here?”
Roman let out a long breath, defusing his anger. Well, some of it, at least. “Because I know where Ashton Spencer is.”
“And yet you don’t have him with you.”
“No, I don’t. I need your help.”
She laughed. A humourless cackle that echoed through the hall. “Oh what a day this is. The great Roman comes to me, begging for help. Maybe he has finally realized he is not the indestructible saviour of the people that he pretends to be.”
“Gavin has Spencer.”
Her laughter died. “Shit.”
“Yeah. Shit.”
She began to pace, moving further into the shadows. “So he’s as good as dead. And we’re no closer to killing Candle.”
“He’s not dead yet. I can get him out.”
“And I bet that you want to use my militia to attack the Haven? Do you think I’m an idiot? Go to hell, Roman.”
“You said it yourself, we need him alive.”
“We do. But we also need to survive. Fighting against Gavin, while Candle is still loose, will be the death of us.”
“Not if we get Spencer.”
“Oh sure. I’ll just let you take half my army and leave this Ministry exposed? Right when I’m in the most danger, you want me to abandon my defences.”
“If you’re right and Candle really is working with Spencer, then Candle will be looking to rescue him. He won’t be planning to attack you, not yet. This is our chance.”
“I won’t risk it.”
Roman ran a hand through his hair, exasperated. “I know it’s a risk, but we need to take this chance. We have an opportunity to capture Spencer and take out one of the biggest gangs in the city.”
“It would start a war between the Ministry and the gangs.”
“Then start a fucking war. You have to do something.”
“This conversation is over.”
Roman strode towards her, anger flaring in his chest. “You can’t hide here forever. One day, when the rest of Legacy has crumbled, and you’re the queen of rubble, you’ll regret that you did nothing to save it.”
“Get out. Now.”
“No.” He closed the distance between them, only stopping when their faces were inches apart. Or they would have been if she was taller. “I’m sick of being the only one who actually does anything for this city.”
“Don’t pretend you give a damn about this city.”
Juliette’s hazel eyes burned with rage, but Roman didn’t look away. He couldn’t. She was a wretched and pathetic Captain, and he would be damned before he gave her any satisfaction of victory over him.
“Get out of my sight,” she hissed.
Something sharp pressed into Roman’s neck. He looked down to see an arrow in Juliette’s hand, it’s tip cold against his skin.
He steadily pushed his neck forward. The metal dug deeper.
“Go on. Do it,” he said. “And then you’ll have no one left to do your dirty work for you.”
“You think you’re special, Roman.” She nudged the arrow forward. Roman’s reflexes overcame his will and he jerked back. “But you’re not.”
He spat at her feet. “If Candle kills you, it’ll be what you deserve. And my only regret will be that I didn’t do it myself.”
He walked out.
Back in the hallway, James escorted Roman back to the elevator. The boy was less nervous now that Roman was on his way out rather than in. This time, Roman was too lost in his own anger to bother with conversation.
Although, as the elevator’s doors open and Roman stepped inside, he couldn’t resist one final jab. “Hey kid, why do you even bother protecting the Captain?”
James thought about this for a moment. “Because she’s the captain?”
“Yeah, well, she’s also a bitch.”
James opened his mouth to respond, but the steel doors drew closed, and once again Roman stood alone in that cramped, square hell.
* * *
Roman wandered the streets. He should have been sick of walking by now — his limp was certainly getting worse — but still he plodded on, watching the cracks in the pavement pass underneath his worn boots. His rage had faded four blocks back. Somehow, the absence of its weight in his chest had left him feeling hollow.
For the hundredth time, he cursed himself for bothering to talk to Juliette. He had known it would be a waste. What a fool he was.
But not just a fool.
Also an asshole.
At the least, talking to Juliette had been a useful distraction from thinking about Ruby. But now the distraction was over. Roman thought about his conversation with Ruby last night, and how he should have kept his damn mouth shut.
A part of him was still angry at her, and had been for years. By managing to deal with her own grief and rage after losing Stevens, she had left him to suffer with his alone. For him, he didn’t want reconciliation, not after finding his best friend in pieces. He wanted justice.
But I failed at that, didn’t I? We never found the Adrenalite who killed him. He’s still loose, somewhere.
The streets were mostly empty. By now, anyone with a job was already working, leaving behind only the beggars. One sat on a set of crumbled steps, wrapped in a sackcloth blanket, shivering against the cool air.
Roman limped over and sat next to the beggar, who gave him a quick glance — revealing one brown eye and another of empty whiteness — then ignored him. Roman thought of introducing himself but decided neither of them really cared who the other was.
He looked up at the overcast sky. There’s a storm coming. Not today, but soon, he decided. I used to love storms when I was young.
The thought surprised him. Those memories no longer felt like his own. He remembered watching the clouds slowly darken and ranting to his dad about how much he wanted to see lightning, then when the storm came he would hide, both terrified and thrilled.
How long had it been since he had felt excited like that? He couldn’t remember. Truth be told, he couldn’t say whether he wanted to feel that way again. The idea of being happy filled him with guilt. He supposed that was his problem — he was guilty that he had survived, while
Stevens died. He recalled Ruby’s anger, back in Gavin’s Haven. Are you trying to get killed? Maybe he was. Well, if that had been his intention, he had failed that, as well.
It might have been hours that Roman sat there. With the sun hidden in the clouds, there was no way of knowing. Eventually, he climbed back to his feet, stiff joints groaning. The beggar offered a grunt. A farewell, maybe? Roman offered a quick nod, then squared his shoulders and left.
His feet led him to the sixth district and the small house that he, Ruby and Tan called home. Squished between two high-rise buildings, the house looked like it was added as an afterthought. Its faded brick face was barely visible beneath the mesh of steel frames that supported it. Roman had personally made the supports — he didn’t like the idea of the building collapsing while he slept inside.
Tan stood on the steps that led up to the barred steel door, smoking. “No offense, Boss, but you look like shit.”
“Feel like it too.”
“You weren’t here last night.”
“I felt like a walk.”
“That’s a long walk.”
Roman leaned against the wall. It had been a hell of a journey; his legs felt like lead pipes. “I don’t think I’ve seen you smoke before.”
“I only let myself enjoy a cigarette when I’m celebrating.”
“What are you celebrating?”
“Nothing. I also smoke when I’m stressed.”
Roman chuckled. He began to massage his thighs, trying to nurse some feeling back into them.
Tan blew a cloud of smoke. “Sorry to say, I’ve got some bad news.”
“Whatever it is, tell me after I’ve slept. It’s already been enough of a shit day.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Roman let his silence answer for him.
Tan finished his cigarette and lit another, seemingly content to stand and watch the empty street. Roman gradually slipped down the wall until he was sitting on the footpath. The energy required to move inside and upstairs to his room felt like too much effort.
“I went to see Juliette this morning.” Roman couldn’t remember deciding to speak, the words just came out. “I asked her to help us break into the Haven.”
“Ain’t you the optimist.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“What’s the difference?” Tan sat down beside Roman. “Can’t blame you for trying, though. One thing I’ve always liked about you: you’re damn good at trying stuff.”
“And failing.”
“That too.”
Roman took a deep breath. Finally, he asked the question on his mind. “Is Ruby here?”
“Nah. She disappeared early this morning.”
He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved. He would have to apologize to her sooner or later. But, if he had the option, he would choose later.
“I’m gonna be honest,” Tan said, “I get the feeling that you and her had a bit of an argument last night.”
“She mentioned Stevens. I got angry.”
After a few minutes of silence, Tan spoke again. “Have you tried . . . um . . . just telling her that you—”
“We’ve got a job to do,” Roman said firmly. “Let’s just focus on getting it done, and staying alive, okay? That’s what matters right now.”
“There’s always a job to do, isn’t there?”
“We’re in a tough business.”
“Life is tough, get over it.” Tan tossed his cigarette in the gutter. “I’ll give you some free advice. Not cause you’re my boss, but ‘cause you’re my friend.”
“I don’t need any—”
“You do. So shut up and listen. When it comes to fighting Adrenalites, you’re the bravest man I know. But when it comes to being honest — with yourself or with anybody else — you’re one cowardly motherfucker.”
“You always did have a way with words.”
“I’m a fucking poet.” Tan lit another cigarette and offered it to Roman, who refused. Tan shrugged before claiming it for himself. “I normally never say this, but you need to be more like me. I know that I’m a shit-talker who loves his whiskey a little too much, but at least I’m honest about it. Just like you need to be honest that you’re—”
“Don’t say it.”
“What was I about to say?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s another lie,” Tan said. “Fine, I’ll keep my mouth shut, because it’s not me who needs to admit it. It’s you.”
Roman didn’t respond, lost in his thoughts, and the conversation ended. Sitting there, Roman wasn’t sure if he fell asleep. But with his eyes closed and fatigue in every limb, time slipped by in a blurry haze. He recalled a dog sniffing around near his feet. Then, later, he heard Tan’s voice, talking with someone else. It all sounded so distant.
He slipped back to consciousness to find a giant standing over him.
“Wake up,” Caleb rumbled. “You heard the news?”
“Huh?”
Caleb turned to Tan. “Did you know?”
Tan lowered his gaze guiltily. “I was . . . um . . . just about to tell him.”
Standing behind Caleb was Sparks. The boy bounced from foot to foot, practically shaking with excitement. That couldn’t be a good sign.
“What is it?” Roman asked groggily.
“Gavin is spreading the word — he’s hosting another fight,” Caleb said. “Tonight.”
“So?”
“He’s also announced that there’s going to be an execution after the fight.”
Roman groaned. There was no doubt who Gavin was planning to execute. Ashton Spencer. Gavin didn’t have the patience to wait for Candle to strike, so he was making an ultimatum, forcing Candle’s hand before he had time to prepare. And forcing Roman’s hand, too. One day was not nearly enough time to abduct Spencer. Not even if he had Juliette’s help.
So why the hell was he sitting here, sulking? What an idiot he had been. He dragged himself to his feet. “Come inside. We’ve got a lot to organize.”
He stumbled, nearly falling back to the ground. Caleb grabbed him and held him upright.
“I reckon you might need to rest a little longer.”
“No. I can do this.”
Sparks stepped forward, grinning, and Roman now realized why the boy looked so eager.
“Looks like you’re in a world of shit,” Sparks said, grinning. “Still think you don’t need my help?”
Roman’s heart sunk in his chest and an all-too-familiar headache returned inside his skull.
Damn it.
He really didn’t have a choice.
“Listen, Sparks,” he said, refusing to look the boy in the eye as he spoke. “I was wrong. I do need your help.”
“Of course you were. And of course you do.”
Roman forced his voice to remain calm as he asked, “Do you swear not to harm any one of us, or any civilian, while you’re activated?”
Sparks rolled his eyes. “Duh. And you swear that after this, you’ll let me carry my own activation needles, and to use them whenever I choose? You’ll finally trust me?”
Not in a hundred fucking years, Roman thought as he reached out a hand and Sparks shook it.
“I swear,” he lied.
Sparks smiled. Roman faked one in return.
Meanwhile, behind the boy, Caleb folded his arms and scowled. He pushed Sparks aside and stepped up to Roman. “Wait outside,” he told the boy. “Roman and I need to have a private discussion.”
Roman nodded. “We certainly do.”
12
“You want a smoke?” Tan offered Sparks a cigarette.
Sparks shook his head. What he wanted was to be inside, listening to whatever it was that Caleb and Roman were discussing. If it wasn’t for Tan watching, he would have his ear pressed against the door.
“Let’s go to a pub,” Tan said. “It’s nearly noon and I still haven’t wet my throat.”
“I didn’t know there was a pub near here.”
&nb
sp; “There’s always a pub if you know where to look.”
Tan led Spark a hundred yards down the road, stopping outside a tall, square building. The windows were barred. The door was a steel plate, shut with three locks. Tan knocked. Nobody answered.
“I don’t think this is a bar,” Sparks said.
Tan shrugged. He glanced up and down the street, confirming it was empty, then pulled a pair of lock-picks from his pocket and began putting them to use. He whistled while he worked. Within a minute he had defeated all three locks and he motioned for Sparks to lead the way inside.
Whoever owned this place, they didn’t care much for cleanliness. Sparks pushed a handful of boxes off a chair, freeing space to sit. A huge table dominated the centre of the room, covered in hammers, saws, and other such appliances. A construction worker lived here, then.
Tan kept whistling — an upbeat, rhythmic melody, similar to the tune Sparks had learned at the haven — while he rampaged through a wall of cupboards. “Ah-ha!” He pulled out two glasses and a half-empty bottle of rum. He placed a glass on the table in front of Sparks and poured him a drink.
Sparks was about to refuse the offer but thought better of it. Today was worth celebrating — after all, tonight he would be fighting.
Tan sat across from Sparks and poured himself a much more generous drink. “You're a lucky man, Sparks. Just like me."
Sparks noticed and appreciated the use of the term ‘man.’ Not kid. Not boy. Not Adrenalite. In calling him a man, Tan showed Sparks far more respect than anyone else in this city ever had. "How so?"
"We were both given an opportunity when Roman hired us."
Sparks snorted. "Opportunity? I didn't have a choice."
"Would you have chosen to stay living in a cell underground?"
Hard choice. Sparks did appreciate being able to go outside, and to live somewhere that wasn't always cold, but there was no way he was going to admit that. "At least Gavin let me fight most days."
