by Travis Brett
“They would be people who weren’t okay with what she’s doing,” Roman said, fitting the pieces together as he talked. “When she showed them, and they disagreed with her, she—”
“Most likely killed them,” Caleb growled through clenched teeth. “If she’s going to use Sparks for this . . . machine, then we’ve got to do something.”
“I know.” Roman turned back to Candle. “I’ve got two options for you: I can shoot you now, or you can help us kill Juliette.”
“Why would you want that? You work for her.”
“Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“She killed my friend.”
“Did you expect anything different from a woman like her?”
“Are you in or not?”
“Maybe.” Candle cocked his head sideways, looking up at Caleb. “You want to rescue the boy — what was his name, Sparks?”
Caleb nodded.
“And what are you going to do with the rest of the Adrenalites?”
“We’re not freeing them, if that’s what you wanted,” Roman said bluntly.
“Not all of them, just—”
“No way.” Roman shook his head. I’ve gone insane, but not that insane. “They’re rogues. They’ve each killed—”
“Of course they went rogue.” Candle snarled at Roman. “You bastards take us as kids, mark our skin, buy and sell us, then make us fight each other for your own shitty amusement. Then we fight back and you call us the monsters. You fucking hypocrite.”
Roman’s hand returned to his pistol. “Don’t play the victim. I’ve seen what you’ve done. There’s a reason why Adrenalites are—”
Candle leapt to his feet. “What I’ve done? You don’t know shit about me.”
Roman pointed the pistol at Candle’s chest, itching to shoot. “I know what your kind has done. How many people did you kill when you went rogue?”
“Only one. And he deserved it.”
“What did he do? Didn’t let you fight enough? I know that’s all you care—”
“No. He beat me. Every day.”
Roman opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He closed it.
“Every single fucking day, for ten years,” Candle continued. “He said it was to make me tough. Well, it just made me hate the ugly fucker. So yeah, I’d say he deserved what he got.”
“I—” Roman suddenly felt ashamed. He could see the truth in Candle’s expression. He lowered his pistol. “I’m sorry.”
I’m apologizing to him?
“I don’t deny that most of the rogues locked up there are right bastards,” Candle said. “By now, they’re more animals than humans. But not all of them. There are five that I promised I would come back for.”
Roman frowned, unsure. The idea of releasing even five rogues was horrifying. But maybe Candle was right. If Sparks could be an Adrenalite but not a heartless killer, then maybe others could be as well. Maybe these five men, just like Sparks, didn’t deserve what Juliette was doing to them.
Candle sat back down. His sudden burst of emotion quickly disappeared. “If you promise you release my friends, then I’m in. If you don’t, just kill me now, and good luck getting to Juliette without my help.”
“And how can I trust you won’t kill us as soon as I activate you? How do I know you won’t try and free them all?”
Candle shrugged. “You just going to have to trust me.”
Roman bit back his response. A week ago the idea of trusting the word of an Adrenalite would have been laughable. But Roman found himself believing Candle. The Adrenalite spoke with a conviction that made it feel like it was impossible for him to lie. But still, Roman was reluctant.
He turned to Ruby and Caleb. “This isn’t just my decision to make. We’re not bounty hunters anymore, so I’m no longer the leader. I’m not going to make this deal unless each of us is sure that we can live with the consequences.”
There was a long pause as Ruby and Caleb considered.
Caleb spoke first. “I reckon we can trust him. Besides, I don’t see a whole lot of other options.”
Roman nodded. “Ruby?”
She strode past him, crouching in front of Candle. “Do you swear that you only killed one man?”
Candle nodded. “One man, before the ministry took me. After I escaped . . . a lot more.”
“And your friends, were any of them captured three years ago, after going on a killing spree through the eighth district?”
Roman knew why she was asking — Stevens had been killed in the eighth district. There was no way she was going to help the Adrenalite who had murdered her brother.
“No,” Candle said, looking her in the eye. “I don’t know who you’re after, but it wasn’t them.”
Ruby slowly nodded. “I believe you.” She stood and turned to Roman. “I’m in too.”
This is really happening then. Roman stepped forward and offered Candle his hand. “So we have a deal?”
Candle shook it. “Death to the Captain.”
Roman paused, then repeated, “Death to the Captain.”
38
That evening, Ruby woke up as the sun was setting.
They had been too exhausted to bother finding a better place to rest, so had slept in this forsaken building. Ruby groaned, rubbing her eyes. She knew she needed every minute of sleep she could get before morning. That’s when they were going to attack the Ministries. They had all decided it was best to strike sooner rather than later, and Caleb hadn’t wanted to leave Sparks in Juliette’s hands any longer than he had to.
Ruby sat up. Her body felt so stiff she wondered if she had slept through the whole day, night, and the next day as well. Her hand still throbbed, but she was getting better at ignoring it. She checked the cut on her leg again. No sign of infection. Good.
Looking around the room, she saw Candle lying curled up in the corner, muttering in his sleep. Caleb sat against the wall, his new gun in his lap, his expression blank as he watched Candle. Roman was gone.
“Where is he?” Ruby whispered.
Caleb shrugged. “He’ll be back.”
Ruby lay down and tried to fall back to sleep. No luck. Her head was too full of thoughts. She got up, grabbed her bow and wrapped her quiver around her waist. “I’m going for walk.”
Outside, the dying light cast a golden glow over the city. A cool breeze blew through the crumbling streets. Ruby inhaled a deep breath through her nose, letting the tension fall off her shoulders. She walked down the middle of the road, away from the station, gracefully scaling the piles of rubble.
Her thoughts felt scattered. Was she sure that killing Juliette was the right thing to do? What about freeing the Adrenalites? Would it make anything better?
This is what I wanted. This is why I convinced Roman to buy Sparks. I wanted him to realize they’re not all evil. And it worked, didn’t it? He’s going to risk his life for Sparks. He’s letting go of his anger, slowly.
Or he’s taking it all out on Juliette instead.
She circled the block once, twice, three. Finally, she sat on the footpath, taking out two arrows and sharpening their heads against each other. A three-legged cat limped past, glaring at her like she had somehow offended it by being here. Ruby nocked an arrow and aimed at the cat as it retreated. She took a slow breath as she steadied the shot, then slowly released the tension on the string and put the bow down.
Ruby shook her head, clearing her thoughts. It was useless to second guess now. Roman had made his decision. There would be no talking him out of it now. All she had to do was make sure he didn’t get himself killed.
Heavy footsteps. Ruby looked up to see Roman approaching, his frame outlined by the setting sun. He was holding a shovel and had a sackcloth bag slung over his shoulders. He looked different somehow. He sat down beside her, putting down the shovel and pulling half a loaf of bread from the bag, offering it to her. “Here. You look like you need this.”
Ruby’s stomach rumbled at the sight of
food. She eagerly tore off a chunk and shoved it into her mouth. It was fresh. Roman watched her in silence as she ate the whole thing. He offered her a waterskin and she took a dozen long gulps.
When she was finished, Ruby asked, “You stole all that, didn’t you?”
“Yeah. I guess I learned more from Tan than I thought.”
“Roman: the bread thief. I think you’ve found your next career.”
“Doesn’t sound suicidal enough for me.” He reached into the bag again and pulled out a cloth and a bottle of whiskey. He motioned to her bandaged hand.
She clutched it to her chest. “I can do it myself.”
Roman didn’t withdraw his hand. He stared at her, his face impassive. Ruby eventually offered her hand to him. He slowly pulled off the stained bandage, gasping when he saw what was underneath. “Ruby . . . I’m sorry, I—”
“I let Gavin get the jump on me. It’s my fault.”
“No. It’s mine. I shouldn’t have let you come to the Haven.”
“I chose to, remember?”
“I shouldn’t have given you the choice.”
“Like you could have stopped me.”
He frowned as he washed her wound with water, then splashed whiskey on it. Ruby stuck an arrow in her mouth and bit down, refusing to let herself flinch. Roman wrapped the new bandage.
“Listen, Roman,” Ruby began carefully. “I’m not some delicate child you have to protect. I’ve been the one saving your arse, remember?”
“I know. But after Harry . . . and Tan . . . Well, following me seems to get people killed. I won’t let that happen to you.”
Ruby grabbed the bottle of whiskey and took a sip. It stung at her throat, but not nearly as bad as it had stung her wound. “Thanks, Roman. I mean it.”
He gave a half-smile, accepting the whiskey from her and taking a lot more than a sip. “Just don’t die. Okay?”
“I promise.”
They sat in silence, alternating drinks, as the sky darkened and the shadows grew longer. By the time Ruby could count a dozen stars, they had finished half the bottle.
“So . . .” Ruby spoke at last, “How do you want to tell me that I was right? Do you want to just say it, make it a poem, carve it into one of Caleb’s forearms?”
“You were right about what?”
“Sparks.”
“What about him?”
“You should have trusted him from the start.”
Roman grimaced, then took another considerable gulp of whiskey. “Yeah. I should have.”
“So you regret it?”
“That doesn’t mean much. I regret nearly everything.”
“It means something to me. It means you’re finally changing.”
“It’s a bit too late for that though, isn’t it? After tomorrow, I don’t think it will matter.” Roman stood, picking up the shovel he had brought. “But before that, there’s something we need to do.”
Ruby knew this had been coming. Still, she wished they could delay it a little longer. Roman led the way as they entered the station. Ruby could feel death lingering in the air. She remembered the screams from that morning. How many people had died here, a hundred? More than Legacy had to spare, that was for sure.
It didn’t take long before they passed the first pair of bodies: two militia, both women. One had a bow, although it was broken. The other’s arm had been torn off. Blood was sprayed across the nearest wall. Ruby’s stomach churned. She finished off the last of the whiskey.
It only got worse from there. Ruby quickly resolved not to look at the bodies, or focus on the smell of dried blood.
Her heart caught in her throat when they found Tan.
His eyes were open, his face locked in eternal shock. He hadn’t bled out too much — the arrow had made a clean puncture through his chest. He was so still. That was what finally made it real for Ruby. Tan never stayed still for long.
Roman’s expression was unreadable as he handed Ruby the shovel, then picked up Tan and held him against his chest.
Ruby couldn’t stop herself from feeling guilty. If only she hadn’t let herself get captured by Gavin, this wouldn’t have happened. She opened her mouth to apologize, but something in Roman’s eyes told her that this wasn’t the right time to speak.
They left the station the way they came, then circled around the outside of the station, heading out of Legacy. They walked a hundred yards into the barren wasteland outside the city. Ruby hated it out here. There was only one reason she left the city: burying a body.
Roman careful laid Tan down on the dirt, took the shovel back from Ruby, and began to dig.
The last of the light faded as the hole deepened, and Ruby felt the first tear dampen her cheek. She didn’t try to stop the second. For all his faults, Tan was a friend. He deserved to have someone cry over his grave.
And Ruby didn’t think Roman was up to the task. She watched him carefully as he worked. The dirt was wet from the rain, but it was still tough and full of rocks, and soon Roman was sweating from the effort of moving it. He had the same stern frown he always had. But Ruby knew him well enough to see the difference, to see just how distraught he was.
Of course he wouldn’t cry like her. He never did. Just like when Stevens died, Roman didn’t know how to show his grief. Back then he had committed to killing as many Adrenalites as he could. This time it was Juliette he would punish. It was the only way he knew how to deal with anything.
Digging a grave always took longer than it should, but eventually Roman finished. He gently laid Tan down into it. Before he could begin to bury him, Ruby had her hand on his arm. “Wait.”
She knelt next to the grave, then, with all the reverence she could give, she reached down and closed Tan’s eyes. His skin was cold. Rubbing her eyes dry, Ruby laid down the empty bottle of whiskey next to his body. It felt fitting. She stepped away. Roman laid the first shovelful of dirt.
Just as digging a grave took too long, filling one never took long enough.
Ruby didn’t know how long they stood there for. It might have been hours. Eventually, she knew it was the right time to speak again. “Is there anything you want to say?”
Roman’s frown deepened. “I never really told Tan what he meant to me when he was alive. It’s a bit late to say it now he’s gone.” He sighed. “I guess I can add that to my list of regrets.”
“Maybe you can say it anyway.”
Roman nodded, then, voice shaking, he said, “He was my friend. And I’m going to miss him.”
“Me too,” Ruby agreed. “He was a bad flirt, a terrible drunk, and a good man.”
“Yeah. He was.”
Ruby shivered, hugging herself tightly. The warmth the whiskey had provided was quickly wearing off. She tried to ignore the cold. After burying a friend, it felt wrong for something as meaningless as a cold breeze to matter, but somehow it did. She didn’t want to be cold, not right now.
Roman put his arm around her. She stiffened at first. Then, after a deep breath, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. She wrapped both arms around his chest.
There was still a lot to say, but, between them, they didn’t need words.
PART FIVE
Revenge
39
They tossed Sparks onto the cold concrete floor of a dark cell.
He couldn’t remember being unhooked from the machine — he must have passed out. When he came to, two militia were dragging him down a flight of stairs. His knees bumped against every step, but he made no effort to walk for himself. After the machine, any other pain just felt trivial.
They took him to a long corridor lined with barred cells, dimly lit by a row of lanterns. Sparks thought the cells were empty at first, but then he saw a boy – barely ten years old judging by the look of him – hunched over in a corner, shivering.
In another cell, he recognized the girl who had been brought here with him, the one who had tried to fight back. She knelt by the bars, watching Sparks sullenly as he was d
ragged past. Half her face was a swollen purple and blue bruise from where the militia had beat her. Sparks thought about saying something, but there was nothing to say that could make any of this any better.
His cell was at the end of the hallway. The stale air reeked of piss and of someone who hadn’t washed in . . . their entire life. The lanterns didn’t reach this far, so it was nearly pitch black. Groaning, Sparks pushed himself to his knees. His chest felt like someone had bent all his ribs open and wedged hot gravel around his lungs and heart. He ran his hand across it and his fingers came away sticky with blood. Thin metal staples knitted together his skin that had been cut open. They had done that much for him, at least.
A face appeared out of the darkness. “Well, you’re a new one. Aren’t ya?”
Sparks flinched. He had hoped he was alone. The man moved closer, revealing his thin white hair and beard, and pale skin layered with wrinkles and sores. He was so scrawny that Sparks almost expected he would be able to slip through the bars of the cell door.
The man grinned, showing his last two teeth, both black with rot. “Welcome to hell, boy.”
Sparks crawled to the wall and huddled against it, wishing he had a blanket. It was freezing. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Bruise.”
“That’s a stupid name.”
“I didn’t pick it.”
“What are they doing to us?” Sparks asked. “They activated me, but there were these wires in my chest, and this big machine. . . it hurt like . . .” He couldn’t think of anything like it.
“So you’ve already met the metal bitch.”
“What is it?”
“It’s how the ministry gets electricity from us.”
“Electricity? From us? How?”
Bruise shrugged. “Just does.”
“But electricity comes from the wind farms. That’s where—”
Bruise chuckled. It turned into a cough, which then turned into a violent succession of coughs. When he finally finished, he said, “Ain’t nobody goes to the wind farms. Cause there’s nothing there. All the electricity comes from right here.”
