by Travis Brett
Adrenaline kept her going. She glanced over her shoulder at her pursuers; there were four of them now. The closest was barely twelve yards away.
Her foot caught in a pothole and she tripped, hands and knees scraping on the concrete. She gritted her teeth, ignoring the stinging pain as she leapt back to her feet. The footsteps from behind were terrifyingly close now. She didn’t dare turn around and check how much of her lead she had lost.
She skidded around a corner. A hundred yards ahead stood the pit fighting hall. Its doors hung open. Inside, the relative safety of darkness. And weapons — Gavin wouldn’t have had time to recover the equipment from his men who’d died in there tonight.
Ruby sprinted for the door, eighty yards away. Fifty yards. Thirty. She was going to make it!
Movement to her right. Someone was rushing to cut her off. Gavin. He held a long knife, grinning as he moved between Ruby and the door.
She didn’t stop.
Gavin charged.
Ruby dived forward, twisting as she fell. She hit the ground shoulder first and threw herself into a roll. Water splashed onto her face as she spun. An ice-cold pain tore into her left leg as sharpened steel split her skin. Back on her feet, she was past Gavin, almost at the door. She glanced down to see blood spilling from a cut across her calf. No time to worry about that. A pair of bodies lay at the entrance of the hall and she leapt over them and into the dark interior.
She stumbled over what could only be more corpses. The floor was wet and slippery; she knew it wasn’t from the rain. She ran over the bodies without hesitation or reverence, not stopping until she was in complete darkness.
Gasping for breath that couldn’t come fast enough, Ruby turned around. Gavin’s silhouette stood just inside the doorway. Behind him, a half dozen other thugs. None of them followed her inside.
“Congratulations, but the games over,” Gavin called. “Now come out before I get . . . frustrated.”
“Go fuck yourself.” Ruby crouched down and blindly searched the bodies nearest her for a weapon, or anything she could use. Her fingers came back sticky with blood as she ran them over broken limbs. Nothing. She moved onto another set of corpses.
“Why’d you even try escape?” Gavin asked conversationally. “You didn’t trust Roman to save you?”
Ruby didn’t answer. Her search became frantic as she moved from body to body. The throbbing pain in her leg wasn’t going away. She quickly ran her hand over the cut. She was lucky; it wasn’t deep.
Gavin gave an exaggerated sigh. “Ready to come out yet?”
“You fucked yourself yet?” she retorted.
Finally, Ruby’s search yielded results: it was only a switchblade, four inches long, but it would be more than enough to gut Gavin with.
Ruby stood and faced the doorway. “Come and get me. You mutie bastard.”
“Don’t call me a mutie.”
“It’s what you are,” Ruby taunted. “You think everyone else has a fucked up face like yours? I’ll give you a hint: they don’t. You’re a mutie, Gavin.”
“Shut up!”
“Make me.”
She hadn’t expected simple antagonizing to work, but Gavin walked into the hall. His thugs didn’t follow. Ruby quickly calculated how the fight would go. Gavin had the longer weapon, and the advantage in size, but if she took him by surprise she would have a chance to end it quickly.
Ruby crept silently to her left, watching Gavin as he advanced deeper into the darkness of the hall. She flanked him just before he vanished completely in the shadows. Stalking forward, she followed his footsteps.
“Is this your idea of a fight?” Gavin growled.
Ruby smirked. His voice was close; he couldn’t be more than five steps away. She kept her switchblade raised, ready to slit his throat the moment he came into reach.
Gavin’s footsteps stopped. Ruby took another step closer, careful not to trip on the bodies beneath her. She didn’t dare breathe. Another step, then another. Where was he? She fought the urge to just swing the blade aimlessly through the shadows around her.
Ruby advanced one more step. Still no Gavin.
She heard something to her left. She spun around, knife swinging. Gavin rammed straight into her, shoulder first, and sent them both tumbling to the ground. Ruby frantically tried to twist free, but Gavin planted his bulk on her chest and pinned her down.
Ruby thrust her knife upwards, and it stabbed into Gavin’s gut. His howl echoed through the hall. Before she could pull the knife back for another blow his hand grabbed her wrist and restrained it against the floor.
His other fist slammed into her cheek. Lights flashed in her vision and her body went limp. He hit her again. Harder.
She managed to raise her free hand and punch Gavin in the chest, but he barely flinched. Cold steel pressed against the fingers on her right hand which Gavin had pinned down. He chuckled maniacally and moved the knife to her little finger.
A flash of pain spasmed through Ruby’s hand, through her arm, and into her whole body. It hurt like nothing she had felt before. She screamed until there was no air left in her lungs.
The knife moved onto her next two fingers. Without those two, she would never fire a bow again. She would never be able to defend herself again; she would be constantly helpless.
That couldn’t happen.
“Motherfucker!” Ruby howled. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she reached up with her left hand and grabbed Gavin’s face. He tried to shake her off but she dug her nails into his skin, then moved her index finger over his cheek, feeling for his mutie eye. She found it and dug into it as hard as she could.
She felt the eye burst.
“Argh!” Gavin howled as he writhed in pain, his hands releasing Ruby. She twisted madly and slipped out from beneath him. Clutching her wounded hand tight against her chest, Ruby crawled away, climbing over bodies. Between her leg and the hand, the pain was so pressing that all she could think of was getting as far away as possible.
“You’re dead!” Gavin cried, his voice shaking with fury.
Ruby’s knee brushed past something sharp. She ran her hand over it. An axe. She grabbed it with her left hand — her right was in too much pain to touch anything.
Gavin’s footsteps were following. He yelled a long string of curses at her.
Ruby stopped fleeing and let herself collapse on top of the corpse she was climbing over. She went still, axe held tight, her pulse pounding so loud in her ears she was sure Gavin would hear it. She felt his foot press into her back and forced herself not to recoil. Then it lifted off and he moved past her. Right now, she was just another corpse to him.
Ruby silently climbed to her feet, raising the axe above her head. . .
. . . Then she swung it down.
Gavin’s yelling stopped the moment his skull split open. Ruby dropped the axe, fell to her knees and vomited. Her whole body convulsed, shivers running down her whole body.
Shaking, Ruby rose to her feet and staggered away. She needed to get away from him, away from all the bodies. But with each step, she passed over another. She hugged herself and blood ran down her chest from her hand, warm and sticky. She felt faint, her legs barely able to support her.
Get a hold of yourself, Ruby repeated over and over in her head. This isn’t over. I can’t lose control now.
Struggling to steady her breathing, Ruby bent down and ripped the shirt off the first corpse she touched. Grimacing, she wrapped it around her throbbing hand. The fabric pressed against the stump that used to be a finger. She ripped off another shirt and wrapped it around the gash on her leg. That’s two problems sorted. For now. Next, she just had to deal with the rest of Gavin’s thugs. Yeah, just that.
She approached the door from the side, leaning against the wall for support. She could hear the thugs outside, arguing. It didn’t seem any of them were in a rush to follow Gavin.
I can do this. I need to. Ruby pressed her back against the wall and called out: “Gavin’s dead. Su
rprise, fuckers.”
They went silent for a long moment, then one responded: “You’re still trapped.”
“And you’re no longer getting paid.”
A few of them muttered things she couldn’t make out.
“Shall I explain your situation to you,” Ruby said through gritted teeth. “You can stay here and wait for me to come out. Or you can come in here and die. Or . . .” she paused as a fresh wave of pain lanced up her arm. “You can get rich.”
That got their attention. “What are you talking about?”
Ruby groaned. How could they be this thick? “Gavin’s money is somewhere here. He’s not going to miss it anymore. The first to find it doesn’t have to share it with the rest of you shit-heads, does he? So if I were you, I would stop jerking off and start searching.”
They went quiet again. She couldn’t hear any of them leaving, yet. But she knew she had them. Once one of them left, the rest would scatter. It was her patience against their greed – not a fair fight.
Ruby slid down the wall till she sat on the ground. Slowly, her breathing steadied and her pulse stopped racing.
Gavin was dead. She could barely believe it.
Was it worth it? Ruby grimaced as she raised her bandaged hand above her head to lessen the blood flow to the open wound. Her mind kept replaying the feeling of the axe jerking in her hand. The horrible sound it had made when it dug in. She puked again, but there was nothing left in her stomach to get rid of. One thing was for sure, killing Gavin hadn’t made her feel any better.
Ruby spat, trying to get rid of the taste of her own sick. It didn’t work.
Eventually, she heard the first of the thugs leave. It wasn’t long before the rest followed. Glancing out the door, Ruby confirmed the way was clear. She stepped back outside and into the rain. She cautiously made her way out of the Haven, watchful for anyone following her. It was only when she left through the gates of the Haven that she let herself properly relax.
She had done it. Somehow. Now she needed to find Roman before he got himself killed.
And, in the back of her mind, Ruby wondered about what Gavin had told her. I know of a dozen Ministry workers who left after they got close with Juliette, he had said. She’s hiding something. Something that inspires disloyalty in some of her people. What had made Ashton Spencer free Candle and run away?
Ruby made up her mind. After she found Roman, she was going to figure out what the hell it was that Juliette was hiding from them.
25
So far, Sparks thought being free was highly overrated.
He had chosen the first building that looked stable and taken shelter. Inside it was cold, damp and it smelt like mould, but at least it was empty. No sign of any vagrants. Not even rats appeared to want to live here. Sparks couldn’t blame them.
Climbing the eighth flight of creaky stairs, he wondered why the Ancients had built places this big. What did they fill them with? Surely there hadn’t been that many people back then. Spark concluded that if the Ancients had even existed, they were all idiots.
After the twelfth flight, he reached the top story. The roof leaked in several places, large puddles forming on the floor, and Sparks wished he had stolen Roman’s coat. He checked each room for signs of life, finding nothing but a rickety chair with a tattered blanket lying over it. He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself.
A window looked down on the city. From it, Sparks watched over the broken city. He could see streetlights in the distance, but everywhere nearby was shrouded in darkness. He could only just see the towers of the four Ministries. Scowling at them, he recalled when he had been taken to the Ministry of Security. When they had tied him down and tattooed his skin.
I’m finally free of them, he thought, rubbing his neck, they don’t own me anymore. No one does.
The thought did nothing to cheer him up. More than anything, it scared him.
Moving to a dry corner of the room, he lay down, trying to find a comfortable position. No luck with that. He checked his wounds — thanks to the rain they were all clean. The slice in his arm was already scabbed over; being activated really did wonders for healing. But he couldn’t stay activated all night or he wouldn’t get any sleep. He took one of his defoxican needles and pushed the tip of the needle into his thigh and injected himself.
Three heartbeats later his light faded, sending the room into total darkness.
As he tried to calm down enough to sleep, his leg kept twitching. It was odd to not have the familiar cold grip of manacles around his ankle while he slept. I guess I’ll have to get used to sleeping without it.
I’ll have to get used to a lot of things.
What was he going to do tomorrow? He rolled onto his side, then back again, too anxious to stay still. He would need food, and water, and a way to hide his tattoo. Then what? He only had one activation needle left. He needed more, but didn’t even know where people bought the needles from.
A roar of thunder rumbled through the building and he shivered, no longer having his second heart beating to keep him warm. Maybe his priority should be to find a proper blanket and a dry place to sleep. Somewhere in the outskirts, as far away from the Ministries as possible.
All the choices terrified him. He knew how to fight, not how to get food or choose good shelter. He’d never had to worry about that before. I’ll figure it out, he told himself. I’m the best fighter in this city. And once I have everything I need, I’ll prove I’m the best fighter. I’ll . . .
Who was he going to fight?
He could never be a pit fighter again. Not without an owner. Sparks wondered whether he had made a mistake by going rogue. Pit fighting was what he lived for. It was the only thing he was the best at. Without it, what made him special? Nothing.
Sleep refused to come. No matter how much he tossed and turned, he couldn’t get comfortable. He lay there for what must have been hours. The only sounds were his own breathing and the constant hammering of rain on the roof. Slowly the rain began to lessen, but Sparks’ mind still refused to stop racing and let him sleep.
He opened his mouth to ask Caleb if he was still awake, then remembered the obvious — Caleb wasn’t here. There was no one to talk to.
Sparks let out a frustrated sigh. This was bullshit. His first night as a free man and he was wasting it in some forsaken tower. He threw the blanket off and climbed to his feet, moving back to the window, a plan beginning to form in his mind.
Candle was the answer to everything. If Sparks joined Candle, then he would have food and shelter, and he wouldn’t have to be alone. He would help Candle overthrow the ministries. The thought of defeating Juliette and every militia in the city made Sparks smile. That was the ultimate fight, wasn’t it? One final battle to bring down everything.
But first, he had to find Candle.
There was no way he could track Candle down by himself. Even Roman hadn’t been able to find him. But maybe Sparks could make Candle find him. If he could just do something spectacular, something to get Candle’s attention.
He looked at the four buildings towering over the rest of the city. Perfect. If Sparks attacked the ministries, Candle would surely hear about it.
His pulse began to race with excitement. Not even Candle had done something as bold as to attack the ministries by himself. If Sparks did this, then there would be no doubt that he was the best fighter in Legacy.
Sparks couldn’t resist a challenge like that.
He crossed the room and picked up Caleb’s satchel. Then he ripped off a long piece of the blanket, wrapping it around his neck like a scarf. That should hide his tattoo in case he passed anyone on the street. His boots would be enough to hide the tattoo on his ankle.
Sparks took the stairs three at the time. Outside, the rain had stopped. He took in a deep breath as he bounced along the footpath, dodging the puddles left in every crack and pothole. The air felt clean, crisp, like the rain had washed away all the cities filth. He suddenly felt good. Damn good.
<
br /> All I needed was a plan, he thought, my very own plan.
The idea made him smile. He’d never had his own plan before.
An hour into his journey Sparks finally reached an area that still had power, and although the roads were empty Sparks stuck to the shadows, darting between the streetlights. Another hour and he finally saw someone else. Sparks’ heart caught in his throat when he turned a corner and saw the lone figure approach. He tried to walk as casually as he could, moving to the opposite footpath.
What the hell am I nervous about? It’s him that should be afraid of me.
The man didn’t even look at Sparks as he passed. Sparks turned back, looking jealously at the man’s coat, even though it was ragged and torn. He quickly discounted the idea of taking it — not after what happened last time he had stolen.
After the fifth person he passed, Sparks’ nervousness faded. No one had spared him a second glance. From then on he didn’t bother hiding in the shadows.
The four towers of the Ministry drew closer until he had to crane his neck to see the top of them. He grinned, hurrying his pace.
Shouting. Footsteps.
He stopped abruptly, listening. It sounded like a mob of people — like the crowd that came to watch Sparks fight at the Haven. Whoever they were, there were coming his way.
Sparks darted into a thin alleyway. From the safety of the shadows, he peered around the side of the wall, watching the street. The mob’s footsteps grew like a steady pounding of thunder. Sparks couldn’t make out what they were shouting, but it was obvious they were angry.
The first of them came into view.
Sparks gasped, eyes widening.
It was the militia, marching down the street. He watched as they continued to appear. Shit, there must have been well over a hundred of the bastards, dressed in their bulky armour, holding axes, hammers, knives, and guns.
