by Kyle Prue
“Not a single word of that made sense to me,” Darius said. “I elect that I crush his ribs with my foot right now. All in favor say, aye.”
“Aye,” said Lilly.
“Don’t!” Josephine said. “I know what a few of those words mean. This man is a Venator.”
“That’s not good,” Rhys said. “I think.”
“No,” Josephine said. “It’s not.”
“What’s a Venator?” Darius asked.
Josephine looked conflicted about answering. “We can discuss the Venator later. For now we need to focus on the task at hand. This man has answers you need. The Pack never sends one assassin to cover an important job. They’re a unit. We’ll need to know more.”
“I thought revolutionary acts were forbidden in the pub,” Rebecca said. Her voice was equal parts fear and fascination.
Josephine tied the curly mess that was her hair into a ponytail and approached the Marksman. With one swift kick she knocked him straight out. “I’m willing to make an exception for uninvited guests,” she said. “Tie him up well and tight. He shouldn’t be able to breathe properly. Store him in one of the back rooms and lock the door. We’ll interrogate him later.” She pointed at Rhys. “There’s a needle and thread in the kitchen in the same place where we keep the matches. Move Neil into one of the public rooms. I want us to be able to keep an eye on him in case of infection.”
The entire room stared at her. “What?” she asked. “You think I just serve drinks and give haircuts? Come on. Let’s get to it.”
With that the room sprang into action. While Darius and Lilly argued over the best way to tie up the Marksman so he wouldn’t be able to slip away, Rhys and Rebecca discussed the best form of sterilization so that Neil wouldn’t be able to slip away in an entirely different fashion.
Chapter Sixteen
THE GOLDEN MUG
NEIL VAPROS
Neil awoke peacefully for the first time in months. For a few seconds he felt serene peace as the soft blankets wrapped him and caressed him. That is, until he woke fully and the searing pain in his back reached the pain receptors in his brain. He shifted slightly and resisted the urge to whimper. “You were shot,” Rhys said from the small bench at the side of the bed.
He looked liked he’d been just staring at Neil with his big jade eyes, awaiting his awakening. “Yeah, Rhys. I know,” Neil said hoarsely. “I was there. Everything hurts.”
“It wasn’t serious,” Rhys said, bringing a mug of water to Neil’s parched lips. “I don’t exactly have the expertise of a real surgeon, but I was able to save you.”
“I could have died, Rhys,” Neil said after swallowing a few long gulps. Even though it was directed at Rhys, it sounded like he was saying it to himself. “That could have been the end.”
“You’ve almost died lots of times,” Rhys said. “You’ve probably almost died twenty times at least.”
“Not since we left the city,” Neil said. “Not since I decided that I didn’t want to be part of the revolution. I thought I’d live a long happy life outside of the walls and away from the Empire.”
Rhys balled up his hands and pushed them against his chin reflectively. “Two things,” Rhys said. “To start, you say you don’t want to be part of the revolution, but you still act like you’re getting ready for a war sometimes. When I wanted someone to go fight those guards by that ravine you were the first one out the door.” Neil didn’t say anything. He just stared at the ceiling. “And second of all, you still could die. We all could. Whether we want to be a part of this or not, the Emperor is coming after us. Apparently now he’s enlisted the help of an elite group of assassins.”
“What happened to the one that shot me?” Neil asked.
“Darius caught him and now we’ve got him tied up in the back room.”
“Is this a front room?” Neil asked as he tried to sit up. He’d been wrapped tightly in the blankets and he found it hard to pull out of them in his wounded state.
Rhys gently pushed Neil back to a lying position. “Josephine is closing the Golden Mug until we can decide what to do.” He paused. “We’re probably going to have to leave, Neil. We can’t endanger Josephine and Rebecca.”
Neil had been fighting that truth for a long time. They loved staying at the Golden Mug, but every day they slept there brought their hosts closer to the Empire’s wrath. “That’s fair. But where do we go?” Neil asked.
“Maybe Shipwreck Bay?” Rhys wondered. “I’ve heard it has the least amount of Imperial soldiers.”
Neil blinked a few times and realized that he was sweating heavily. He pulled his arms out of the blankets. “If you want to join the revolution I want you to just tell me,” Neil said firmly.
Rhys sighed. “It’s just… you didn’t join because you didn’t want to lose any more people after Jennifer. Darius didn’t want to kill anyone after he killed Michael, and Lilly was grieving Jonathan. We all had perfectly good reasons to avoid the revolution at first…”
“And now?” Neil asked.
“Now, you could lose people no matter where they are. We’re being hunted. Lilly seems to have recovered well enough. In fact, she seems anxious. And angry. Darius is jumping right back into combat again. Maybe we’re ready,” Rhys said. “I know you wanted a life away from this, but they’re ripping it away from you piece by piece and soon they’ll do it person by person.”
Neil pursed his lips. “I have to think about this. Just a little more.”
Rhys patted him on the shoulder. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll let you sleep.”
Rhys stood up to leave and Neil felt something push its way out of his mouth. “We have to tell Lilly.”
Rhys didn’t turn around. “I thought we were gonna wait.”
“I thought I’d have time, or that we’d have time, but if we’re really getting back into the action, I don’t want to die without her knowing.”
Rhys looked around a few times, as if they were being spied on, and sat back down. “I’m not saying that I’m against this, but if I were I’d have two reasons for it,” he said quietly. “One is that the alliance between Lightborns is already fragile. Lilly and Darius are at each other’s throats all the time. You fight with Darius sometimes. I’m just saying. It might not be the best thing if she knows about Edward.”
“Look,” Neil said more forcefully. “She told us that she hasn’t been able to sleep properly since Edward was killed. When she does she has terrible nightmares. Maybe she’ll appreciate the fact that we’re getting ahead of it and telling her face-to-face.”
Rhys laced his fingers together. “The second thing we need to worry about is Jennifer’s legacy.”
Neil tried to sit up but quickly laid back down as pain shot through his back. “Look, Jennifer told me and only me because she felt like she had to with Victoria being gone. I then made the decision to tell you because I felt you needed to know more about why she was the way she was. Doesn’t it help to know it? Don’t you understand her better? She killed the only boy she ever loved. Her legacy will survive if others know how pained she was.”
Rhys didn’t look convinced and Neil wondered what his little brother thought of Jennifer’s memory. Rhys said, “I understand. I’m just saying that this might not be the best time to come clean about Jennifer’s history with Edward. We talk about her a lot. It’s nice to keep her memory alive through stories. Once Lilly knows, that all stops. Can you imagine trying to tell a story about Jennifer after Lilly knows that she killed her brother?”
“I just want to consider coming clean,” Neil said. “I know it might not be the smartest decision, but I just almost died. I want to know that if that were the end, you’d tell Lilly at some point. All she talks about is tracking down her brother’s killers. How long can we deny her the truth? Not knowing is tearing her apart. Isn’t this the right thing to do?”
Rhys rubbed his eyes. “We can talk about this later,” he said. “I want to come back to this with fresh minds. Lilly won’t see Jennif
er’s pain and grief over Edward as justification for killing him. We’ll forever just be related to the girl who killed her brother. It’ll renew our place as her enemy in her mind.”
“Isn’t the feud behind us?” Neil persisted, even though he was growing fainter.
“I want to think it is,” Rhys said. “But I think we should wait for our friendship to cement before we put more tension on it.” He opened the door and lowered his voice before he left Neil to sleep. “Lilly will be okay for now. I’ll keep putting her to sleep when I can. I can’t do anything about the nightmares though.”
“The nightmares aren’t really what I’m worried about,” Neil said. “I mean, have you seen that girl on the battlefield? She can handle a few bad dreams.”
Chapter Seventeen
THE GOLDEN MUG
Lilly Celerius
Lilly was walking through an unfamiliar marketplace when she heard a familiar voice drawing her in. “I can carry that for you, Lilly,” said the voice.
Lilly turned around and her heart nearly stopped. There was Jonathan, standing at attention as he always did for her. “Jonathan?” she asked. How can you… How are you alive?”
“You need me!” Jonathan said happily. “I’d do anything to serve you. I can carry that for you.”
She looked down and realized she was carrying an expensive looking roll of fabric. She handed it to him and he wrapped it under his tiny arm. “Let’s move on!” Jonathan said.
She continued through the market and marveled at how new stands appeared as she passed by the older ones. Periodically shopkeepers would hand her goods and ornate delicacies, which Jonathan would pull from her hands. She never paid much mind to the shopkeepers, but there was something off about these merchants. They looked to be wounded in battle. A merchant with a bloody chest passed her a golden plate. Next a man with no eyes handed her a delicious looking plate of pears. Jonathan once again carried it for her. “I can carry something Jonathan!” she said without looking behind her.
“No, Miss!” Jonathan said. “You shouldn’t be made to carry anything.”
Eventually she realized that there was less and less on the merchants. Some were now missing arms, or legs, or heads. At a point she stopped and looked to Jonathan, but he was completely buried under the massive pile of goods he carryied for her. “Jonathan?” She began to tear away her presents to find him in the rubble.
When she finally did he was bloody and his coat was torn. A small metal circle was clutched in his hand. “What are you doing Jonathan?” she asked.
“I would do anything for you,” he persisted.
With that final, cryptic message he pulled the pin on the grenade.
Lilly screamed as she awoke, then clamped her hand over her mouth. “Not again,” she muttered.
She tried to calm herself, but her body wouldn’t comply. Her chest heaved and sweat poured from her forehead. She rolled onto her front and pressed her hands into the mattress. She sent waves through it and through the walls of the Golden Mug until she could feel the presence of everyone inside. Next-door was the assassin who almost killed Neil. One more room over, Rebecca slept soundly. She let her senses expand until she could feel the main rooms where Neil lay injured. Rhys was with him. From what she could feel it seemed like the boy was just watching his brother sleep. It had probably been traumatizing for him to almost lose his only remaining family member. She felt for Rhys and his renewed paranoia. She reached out and her senses told her that Darius was in the main serving room with a book and a candle. She sighed. Maybe it was possible that he could read. She wished she could feel far enough away to find Carlin. She’d leave right now if she knew where he was. Despite all this talk of the revolution, that’s all she really wanted. She couldn’t image the peace that would come from his death. Would she be able to sleep soundly again? Or would her brother Edward still plague her mind?
Suddenly, she stiffened. She could feel two people creeping near the door outside.
Lilly bounded out of bed. With her Celerius speed, she was down the hatch and into the kitchen within two seconds. She opened the door with her shoulder. “Darius!” she whispered.
Darius jumped. “What?”
She pointed at the front door. “I think someone is here. We need to—“
If she weren’t so focused Lilly might have missed the dark shadow that slipped in through the broken window and crawled into the shadows. Darius stood up. Evidently, he’d seen it too. He tore his way across the room and flipped a table in the process. The girl creeping around was none other than Anastasia: the assassin who had tried to kill him multiple times when she worked for his brother, Michael. Darius recoiled in sheer surprise. “Listen,” she said. “I know how this looks, but—“
He knocked her across the room and charged at her, ready to beat her into the floor. Undeterred by the massive blow she had just taken, Anastasia whipped her chain-spike across Darius’s neck and, as it was unprotected, she hit the right spot to make him bleed. Darius’s hand found his neck and Lilly realized that he was in a rare situation of danger. He kicked Anastasia away, but with her next chain-spike attack, she wrapped it around his neck and leapt onto his back as if she were riding a bucking bronco. He swung her off and she cartwheeled into a standing position, acrobatically. She moved unlike anyone Lilly had ever seen. Before Darius could charge again, another form slipped through the window. “Enough!” Bianca said.
Lilly looked to Anastasia and then to Bianca. “Bianca?” Lilly asked.
“Hi, Lilly,” Bianca said. “Fists down, big guy. She’s not here to hurt you.”
Darius didn’t lower his fists. “In my experience, that’s never been true.”
“Believe it or not,” Bianca said, “Anastasia is here to help you all.”
“I’m going to go with not,” Darius said without breaking eye contact with the assassin.
Lilly rubbed her palms together. She knew from her experience with Darius that if he broke eye contact he would usually calm down. “Darius!” she said. Darius turned his head to her. “I think we should at least hear her out. Bianca trusts her. And we trust Bianca.”
“Do we?” Darius asked hostilely as he turned back to glare at Anastasia.
“Yes.” Lilly said. “Fists down, Darius.”
“I’m gonna put my fists down her throat.”
“She doesn’t stand a chance against the two of us. Let’s at least ask a few questions first,” Lilly persisted.
Darius lowered his fists slowly, but kept his eyes laser focused on Anastasia. “How well do you know her?” Darius asked Bianca.
Anastasia laughed and Darius looked like he wanted to raise his fists again. “She knows me pretty well. After all we have the same father.”
Chapter Eighteen
THE GOLDEN MUG
NEIL VAPROS
Rhys sat at the door, brandishing his knife. “Someone’s here,” he said.
“I heard,” Neil said in his dazed state. “What do you think we should do?”
Rhys opened the door a slight crack and peeked through. He studied for a few moments and then turned back to Neil. “I think it's Bianca.”
Neil sat up. “Are you sure?”
“Ashen hair,” Rhys said. “Definitely looks like her. And it looks like Anastasia is here too.”
“The assassin?” Neil asked. Rhys nodded even though his back was turned to Neil and it was hard for him to see. “Is Bianca tearing her apart?”
“No,” Rhys said. “They actually look friendly with each other.”
“I must be hallucinating,” Neil said. Suddenly a thought struck him. “Do you think Bianca is gonna come up here at some point?”
“Of course. She wouldn’t come here and not see you.”
Neil shook his head and tried to clear it of the pain that had been chipping away at him. “I want you to do me a favor, buddy.”
“Okay.”
“Tell her I’m way worse than I am,” Neil said.
“Neil, you’
re gonna be okay,” Rhys insisted.
“I know that,” Neil said. “But maybe if she thinks I’m already gonna die she might not stab me.”
“This seems dishonest,” Rhys said.
“That’s because it is,” Neil said. “I feel bad about it, but I want to fix things with her. This will make it easier.”
“Okay,” Rhys said after a while.
“Also make sure Anastasia isn’t here to murder us,” Neil said.
“That, I’m happy to do,” Rhys said as he exited the room, knife in hand.
Neil waited and stared at the ceiling. He tried to formulate the perfect response to whatever Bianca might say to him. He didn’t have to wait long before the door opened and he heard her light footsteps. “Neil?” she asked.
He pretended to be startled. “Bianca?” he asked. “What are you doing here?”
Tears brimmed her eyes and her face had lost all color. She clutched his hand. He was struck by the fear on her face. Bianca was never afraid of anything. She put her hand out to feel his forehead. “Rhys says you’re not looking so good.”
Neil wanted to go with his previously established white lie, but knew he couldn’t. She looked too upset, concerned and a whole bunch of other things that he hadn’t expected. “It’s really not that bad,” he insisted. “Not much worse than a flesh wound.”
She dropped her hand from his cool forehead, grabbed his hand again and stroked his palm. “Really?”
