Skye's Sanctuary (The Sanctuary Series Book 5)

by Nikita Slater

  I can’t blame him for loving her. Many who meet her eventually fall for her passion and drive. I have my suspicions about Kingston. The only reason I haven’t had her personal bodyguard removed is that he would never dare to express those feelings. He will love from afar, as I did for so many years. He will never touch her, though. Skye belongs to me.

  I spend several hours watching the abandoned town where Silas and Hannah have taken refuge, then enter the city stealthily. I take up post in an old convenience store, across the street from where they’ve set up house. I pace the cracked tiles of the store, keeping my eye on the building, watching for movement. I know they haven’t left it, having watched them go inside hours ago.

  When the sun sits low on the horizon, I step from the shadows and cross the street. I hold my rifle low at my side. My sword is slung across my back.

  I reach for the door of an old movie theatre, where Silas is hiding out, but before I can enter the sound of a shot cracks the silence, coming from the theatre and echoing up the empty street.

  I duck into the lobby, taking cover against a crumbling column. I wait, listening, before I move toward where the shot had come from.

  There are four doors, each leading into a separate cinema. The first is locked, so I move on to the next, which is cracked and blocked by debris too large to move easily. The third door is clear, so I push it open, walking noiselessly into the theatre.

  Hannah doesn’t see me enter.

  She’s sitting on the ground, in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling screen, which is surprisingly intact. I walk slowly toward her, passing row after row of empty seats. The room smells musty, but not rotten, as though everything has been well preserved over the past decades.

  Hannah doesn’t hear me approach, and I realize why as I pass the fifth row of seats. She’s bent over something on the floor, sobbing.

  As I get closer, I see a gun on the floor next to her. I realize the thing she’s crying over is Silas, his body limp.

  I round the last set of seats.

  Silas is laying on the ground, his head back at an odd angle, a bloody gaping wound in the top of his head. Shattered skull fragments, brain and blood have sprayed across the floor behind him.

  Hannah looks up at me with no surprise in her eyes, just a dull acceptance.

  “I had to do it,” she whispers.

  “Kill him?” I guess.

  She nods and gazes down at the body of her husband. No blame or regret in her eyes. “It was never me,” she confesses, then looks up at me pleadingly, as if begging me to understand. “He was always obsessed with her, with Skye. From the moment he saw her, he couldn’t see anyone else. I thought that if I just loved him hard enough, stood by him, let him touch me… anyway, it doesn’t matter. None of it matters. He wanted to set up here so he could stay near the city. He wanted to see her again.”

  My respect for Hannah goes up. I’ve only ever seen her as a doormat. She was harmless, one of the Warlord’s devoted slaves.

  “I couldn’t live like that,” she says, caressing Silas’ chest, her tears falling unheeded down her reddened cheeks.

  “I know,” I say to her.

  “I won’t live that way.”

  I gesture at the body. “You don’t have to. He’s gone now.”

  “I’ll still have to live knowing he loved her more. He always loved her more.”

  “You’ll get over it.”

  She shakes her head. “No, I won’t.”

  She reaches back, feeling for the gun. I tense, expecting her to point it at me, but she lifts it and places it against her temple. She stares at me as if begging me to stop her.

  I can’t think of anything to say, so I step backwards, keeping my gaze on her, until I’m close to the door.

  The retort of the gun ripples through the theatre as she pulls the trigger.

  I turn away and leave the room without looking back. I hope her aim was good, because if she missed killing herself instantly, she’s in for a long slow death, which would be a pity for a woman who found the necessary bravery to kill the object of her suffering.

  As I walk away from the town, I look around. It’s not a bad little place. Might be good for a secondary post. I’ll present the possibility to my Warlord and suggest we set up security forces out here.

  I climb into my vehicle and drive back toward my Sanctuary, my woman, my family, and my home.

  Epilogue

  5 Years Later

  Today is the big day, and my wife is nowhere in sight. Of course, she’s never where I expect her to be. I’d given up years ago trying to outguess her. I could go looking for her, but I decide to take the lazy route. Since we got the water treatment and hydroelectricity plant online, I’ve had to work double-time on security. It took years, but we’ve finished extending the wall around the plant, making it an official part of Sanctuary.

  The Santa Fe Sanctuary now possesses one of the most sought-after pieces of infrastructure on the continent. We’re open to sharing the secrets of our success, but not our chief engineer or tech expert.

  “You looking for Skye?” Anita asks, from where she’s crouched next to one of the tanks.

  “You know where she went?” I ask.

  “Shouldn’t she be at the vote?”

  I shake my head. “She was nervous, so I think she’s avoiding the crowds.”

  Though Skye is the one who instigated this vote, the one who brought our Sanctuary into an age of democracy and choice, she can’t seem to bring herself to advocate for the person who has stood strong as Warlord for the past five years.

  “I’d be nervous too,” Anita mumbles, refocusing on her task.

  “Problems?” I ask, crouching to look over her shoulder.

  “No,” she says without looking up. “Thanks to Dolly, the computer systems are working like clockwork. I’m trying to make sure I understand the readings, so we don’t do something stupid like unload a bunch of chemicals in the water.”

  “Are we at risk of that?” I ask dryly, straightening.

  “Not unless I do something stupid.”

  I snort and leave her to her task. After five years, Skye’s little Apocalypse Posse, minus Sheela Summers, is going strong and seems to have accepted me into their group. They’ve even invited me to a few of their poker games.

  “Hey,” Anita calls out before I can leave, her voice echoing in the massive concrete room. “Skye might be at the school. I think I heard something about her wanting to spend the day with Nova and Stella.”

  “Thanks.” I leave the plant, climbing into my new car.

  After I’d lost mine to a river, I’d borrowed vehicles from the city police and security forces. Then, a year ago on the day Skye declared as my birthday, she presented me with a 2019 cherry red Camaro. Apparently, she’d searched and searched for a sports car that still ran, until she found one in another Sanctuary. She’d had it brought to ours without me knowing and had Anita work on it. Now I have the best car in the Sanctuary, all windows, seatbelts and lights intact.

  As I drive, I lift my radio. “Kingston.”

  Seconds later, he responds. “Yes, Commander.”

  “Where is my wife?”

  He responds right away. “She’s in the palace with the girls.”

  “Does she plan on going to the square?”

  Four years ago, we’d created a public square to hold meetings involving citizens. Now, whenever there’s an important event, citizens will gather there and either celebrate or mourn together. It’s not often that my wife will miss a social event.

  “She has no plans to go that I know of.” Kingston sounds as exasperated as I feel.

  I have no doubt that she will win this election, our first, carefully orchestrated after years of planning, yet she refuses to attend the gathering. Too bad. Today is her day to shine, to accept that she’s done incredible things with a broken-down Sanctuary.

  This election will be the first of many. We intend to hold similar meetings every five years. We
hope to have a democratically elected council as well, but for now we intend to leave the council as is and chosen by the Warlord. Several of our operations are still in delicate stages and we can’t risk any of the programs collapsing, particularly the Centre for the Treatment of Necrotitis Primeval. Our Sanctuary is leading the way in advancements toward the cure.

  I will be the first to admit my scepticism, but working together with the New York and Tucson Sanctuaries, we’ve been able to advance the cure to where we now have a 79% success rate of turning Primitives back to humans.

  Stories of our successes have spread and now we receive refugees with loved ones who were turned into Primitives in tow, begging for treatment. Thanks to Skye’s careful planning and her ability to use the skills of her council, we can accept most refugees.

  I park my car in the palace garage and take the stairs two at a time until I reach the top floor. Though our lift is now working thanks to the hydroelectric dam, I still use the stairs. I need the exercise if I’m to keep up with my warrior woman.

  I nod a greeting to Kingston and Beth, who are standing guard at the Warlord’s suite.

  “Is Anita coming back in for the count?” Kingston asks as I pass.

  “I think she’s coming in with Dolly,” I tell him. “Said something about heading to the square.”

  “Good,” he says.

  Kingston and Anita married a few years ago.

  “Go,” I tell him. “I’ll escort Skye and the girls.”

  He nods and leaves his post.

  We haven’t had any real unrest in the city in years and have been able to ease up on the Warlord’s security, which makes her a much happier woman. She’s always detested having a trail of people following her about, but she’s able to at least tolerate Kingston and Beth.

  I push the door open and enter the Warlord’s chambers. I’m greeted by the sweet smell of fresh cut lavender and chamomile. The Mountain People must’ve dropped by while I was out. They always bring gifts of fresh flowers and herbs from their gardens. In return, we give them fruits and vegetables from our greenhouses.

  “Hold steady, okay now!” I hear Skye shout. “Left, left, go left! Ha, got her!”

  I’m grinning before I even turn the corner into the solarium.

  “Who’s killing who in here?” I demand, holding my arms open as my girls catch sight of me.

  “Daddy!” Nova drops her blunted sword and throws herself into my arms, leaping high so I’m forced to catch her as she clings to me.

  Next comes the tiny, but no less impactful body of my four-year-old daughter, Stella. She slams into my legs and holds her arms up to me. I shift Nova onto one shoulder, grip Stella by the back of her leather vest, and lift her onto my other shoulder.

  Skye walks slowly toward me, a happy grin that matches mine plastered across her face. She slips her knife into her belt and presses herself against my chest, wrapping her arms around me.

  Her big belly stops her from getting as close as she likes when she’s not pregnant, but I love the feeling of our third child being involved in our family hug.

  “Mom is letting me teach Stella swordplay,” Nova says in my ear, her arms wrapped in a stranglehold around my neck.

  My heart never stops filling with satisfaction whenever I hear Nova call us mom and dad. It’s been a long, hard road for her, but she’s now thriving with the support of her family and friends. She’s an excellent student at school and she’s picking up fighting techniques like she was born to it.

  “I get a sword!” Stella shouts excitedly in my other ear. I wince and gently lower both girls to the floor as Skye takes a step back.

  “Is that so,” I say, looking down at my tiny daughter who is an exact replica of her mother, from her stormy grey eyes to her reddish-brown hair.

  In contrast, Nova has sandy blond hair and her blue eyes are more the colour of the sky on a clear day than stormy grey like her sister and mother. She looks nothing like us, but she’s every bit our child. We never let a day go by without telling her how grateful we are to have her in our lives.

  “We need to get down to the square,” I tell Skye as each girl takes one of my hands. I have to stoop a little so Stella can reach.

  “Mom says she’s not going,” Nova informs me, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

  “Tattle-tale!” Skye says laughingly, wrapping an arm around Nova’s neck and pretending to strangle her.

  We all laugh as Nova untangles herself and fixes her hair. “Can I go with Kenny?” she asks, wide blue eyes watching us anxiously. “His mom said we could go together if you give us permission.”

  I scowl and open my mouth to refuse, but Skye answers before I can, “Of course, sweetie. Take Beth and pick a spot near the front. If your dad forces me to go, then I want a good spot.”

  Skye kisses her cheek, and Nova takes off before I can call her back.

  “I don’t like it,” I say, reaching down to haul Stella up into my arms.

  “Of course you don’t,” Skye says with the same twinkle in her eyes that Nova had. “Your daughter is growing up and making friends. You can’t keep her locked up forever, you know.”

  “Yes, I can,” I inform her.

  One hand on her belly, Skye goes up onto her toes and kisses my bearded jaw. “But you won’t.”

  She’s right, I won’t lock up my family. It kills me every time they walk out the door because they could be hurt, but I can’t control the entire world. Skye has taught me that sometimes I have to risk the things I love in order to see why I love them. I’m not sure if she’s right, but I can’t refuse my Warlord.

  She sighs heavily and leans against me. Stella pats her on the head, which makes us both laugh. Skye turns her head and takes Stella’s fingers in hers and kisses them.

  “You’re going to make me go to the counting, aren’t you?” Skye asks mournfully.

  “You should be there,” I tell her, wrapping my free arm around her waist and holding her tighter against me. “The people are expecting you.”

  “Since when do you care about the people?” she mumbles against my chest.

  “I care because you care.”

  She falls silent for a few seconds, then tilts her face up to look at me. “What if they don’t vote for me?”

  Ah, now we get to the root of her problem. Skye is involved with every aspect of this Sanctuary. She has her hands in everything. This vote was her baby since the inception of the idea, four years ago. She’s been involved in every step of moving our Sanctuary toward a democracy.

  This past week, she went up against three other leaders of the Santa Fe Sanctuary for the new position of mayor. Once a mayor has been chosen, we will disband the use of a Warlord in our Sanctuary. It’s a huge step forward and a tremendous victory.

  When I first chose Skye as our Warlord, I never imagined that she would bring us to this point. I knew she would lead with skill and compassion, but her inborn sense of fairness and justice has pushed her into the decision to turn our Sanctuary into a democracy, rather than a single-ruler system of governing.

  I couldn’t be prouder of her.

  I look down at her. “If you lose, then we’ll finally have time to go on vacation. We can move into that beautiful house we’re having built in the eastern quadrant. If you lose, then we’ll be able to finally move around the city without an escort.”

  She smiles and shakes her head, her chin jabbing my chest. “You’re right. I don’t know what I’m so worried about. I never wanted to win a popularity contest. I just wanted to do what I thought was best for this Sanctuary and I’ve done that.”

  I let her see the pride shining in my gaze. “Yes, you have. And if you’re voted in for another five years, then we will continue to serve this Sanctuary.”

  She nods decisively and steps away from me. “Okay, I’m ready.”

  Together, we walk down to the square. We quickly find Nova and her friends, as well as Kingston and Anita. We settle down near the stage, sitting on several blan
kets spread out on the ground. I play with my youngest daughter and do my best to eavesdrop on Nova’s conversation with the boy, Kenny, while Skye chatters nervously with Tabitha and Dr. Bishop.

  Bishop helped us establish our Centre for the Treatment of Necrotitis Primevil and now spends his time commuting between the two Sanctuaries every few months. The man is old enough to remember the Great Fall, but I don’t think he’ll ever stop working. He seems to love medicine the way I love weapons and security.

  The spokesperson for the day calls the square to order. I turn to look behind me and see a wave of citizens, a few thousand strong at least. The future of our Sanctuary has been a hot topic recently, engaging more and more people. I’ve never seen such excitement on the faces of our citizens, and it makes me proud that my woman is responsible for this.

  I take Skye’s hand and help her to her feet as she’s called to the stage, along with the three other candidates. Two men and two women stand waiting to hear who will be voted in.

  Skye turns to seek me out, her gaze clinging to mine.

  I smile reassuringly at her.

  “Our very first mayor will be… Skye of the Santa Fe Sanctuary.”

  A grin of happiness spreads across her face and she sighs her relief as she shakes hands with the other candidates and makes her way to the commentator, accepting his congratulations and taking the microphone so she can speak to the crowd.

  Her speech is short, thanking the people for their continued trust and support.

  When she’s finished, she climbs the steps down from the stage and graciously accepts congratulations from the citizens who supported her.

  “Watch your sister,” I say to Nova, standing.

  I make my way to Skye’s side, providing a buffer from the crowd. Though there hasn’t been a threat to her safety in years, I still don’t like when people get this close to her. They could knock her over or grab her too hard.

  She tips her head up to me, accepting a kiss before going back to chatting with her constituents.