The Book of David

by Kate L. Mary

  Three enforcers stand less than twenty feet away, their backs to us. We can get away. We have a chance, but we have to act fast.

  Still, I can’t make my legs work.

  Snap out if it, Scarlett.

  One pep talk is all it takes to get me moving. I glance over my shoulder at Rory and Turk and jerk my head to the side, motioning for them to go back the way we came. They move just as I start backing up, keeping my gaze on the enforcers while carefully picking my way across the rubble. A bead of sweat traces a line down the center of my back while my heart pounds in my ears. I have to work on controlling my breathing. On staying calm and focusing.

  We can make it. Just a little bit further.

  One step. Two. Five. Almost there.

  Rory and Turk disappear around the corner, and I only have a few small steps left to take before I join them.

  We’re going to be okay.

  Almost at the exact instant that the thought goes through my head, I stumble on a piece of cement. My heart thumps right along with the clatter of wood and metal banging against one another, shattering the silence, and all three of the enforcers whip around at once.

  I have to bite down on the scream that bubbles up inside my throat.

  “Hey!” one of the men in front of me yells.

  Every muscle in my body snaps to attention. I spin on my heel and haul ass, turning the corner Rory and Turk just disappeared around. We have a pretty good lead, and the advantage of knowing the ins and outs of the city. We can outrun them. I’m sure of it. My heart bangs against my ribs, and the pounding of the enforcer’s footsteps echoes in my ears. Taunting me.

  Rory and Turk are only a few feet in front of me, and they’ve almost reached the end of the street when even more enforcers step out in front of us. My friends skitter to a halt, their eyes wild with desperation as they search for a way to escape.

  “This way!” I yell, turning toward a side street.

  I don’t check to make sure the others follow. I just go. Adrenaline shoots through my veins like fire, forcing my legs to pump faster as I charge down the alley. I won’t let them catch me. They will not take me back to the mines. I take a few quick turns, dodging the rubble that clogs the alley. My mind focused on one thing: saving my own ass.

  “Turk!” Rory’s scream cuts through the air, piercing my heart.

  The fire in my veins turns to ice, and I spin around so suddenly I almost fall. They’re not behind me. The blood rushing through my body pounds against my temples as my head snaps back and forth, trying to decide. What do I do? Help my friends or save myself?

  Another scream shatters the air, and it’s the only motivation I need. I can’t leave Rory.

  I head back the way I came, my heart pounding faster with each step and every inch of me screaming for retreat. But I force myself forward. I can’t abandon them. I won’t be that person.

  When I round a corner my feet bang against a body, and I have to stifle a scream. Is it Rory? That’s all I can think as I leap over the body, barely making it over without falling. Two feet away from me, Turk stabs the blade of his knife into an enforcer’s stomach. The man grunts and falls to the ground, taking Turk with him. They land next to the body that almost tripped me up, and a sigh of relief forces its way out of me. It isn’t Rory. It’s just another enforcer.

  Behind me, someone grunts, and I spin around as a third enforcer shoves my best friend’s face into the wall. He pushes her body against the dirty brick as he twists her arm behind her at an awkward angle. Her painful gasps hit me like a punch in the gut. I rush forward and grab the collar of the enforcer’s jacket, yanking him away from my friend. He tries to push me back, but I knee him in the balls and slam my forearm into his neck, pressing all of my weight onto his throat until he bangs against the wall. His face turns red and puffy as he tries to get air, and panic fills his eyes. He claws at my arm, but I just push harder. My knife is in my hand before I know it, my gaze holding his as I thrust the blade into his stomach.

  His arms drop to his sides, and warm blood covers my hand. When his eyes roll back I pull my knife from his stomach, and he slumps to the ground, his body slack as the life drips from him, covering the streets of Athens like so many other people before.

  My throat tightens, but I swallow against the pressure. Forget him. You had no choice. Focus on Rory.

  I turn away from the man and find Rory on the ground, with Turk kneeling at her side. A pinched expression twists his features as he examines her scratched and dirty cheek.

  “You okay?” I take a knee next to them, still trying to push the terrified expression in the enforcer’s eyes out of my mind.

  “Yeah,” Rory says between gasps. “I just want to get out of here.”

  That makes two of us.

  I help her up while Turk continues to fuss over her like a worried mother. The muscles in my face are so tight I’m having a difficult time talking. This could have been bad. We could have lost someone.

  I push the thought down before my emotions bubble to the surface.

  We’re okay. Rory’s okay. Turk’s okay. Nothing happened.

  Rory brushes the dirt off her pants before grabbing Turk’s hand. I follow, turning to face the alley just as three enforcers step out. Blocking our way. I grab Rory’s arm as I spin around, ready to run back the way we came, but three more men close in on us from behind.

  “Left!” Rory pulls her arm out of my grasp and takes off toward a side alley.

  Every muscle in my body tenses as Turk and I follow, and I’m right on Rory’s heels when two more enforcers rush out. My friend turns to run, but she only makes it one step before an enforcer has managed to grab a handful of her hair. He yanks, pulling her back toward the alley, and Rory lets out a scream that nearly shatters my heart into a million pieces.

  The sudden pain knocks the air out of me. “Rory!” Her name comes out sounding like a gasp.

  She twists and fights, but the enforcer doesn’t ease his grip on her. My heart thumps erratically as I whip out a throwing star and fling it at the man holding her. It hits him in the neck, and his face twists in agony. He grabs at the star, forgetting Rory. Letting her go. She runs toward us, but only takes two steps when four more enforcers come out of the alley. One grabs her arm and pulls her behind them.

  There are too many now.

  “Run!” Rory’s scream vibrates off the buildings around me.

  Panic builds in my chest until I have trouble breathing. This can’t be the end. Desperately, I search for a way to save her, but it only takes one second to realize that we’re surrounded, outnumbered, and seriously outgunned. I’m paralyzed when anguish rips through me, building in my chest and filling my heart until it swells against my ribcage.

  When Rory screams for us to run a second time, the sound of her voice snaps me back to reality. My survival instincts take over, forcing the pain down. I grab Turk’s arm and rush down the only street that isn’t blocked, pulling him with me. He fights, but I dig my nails into his arm and keep moving. We have to keep moving. We have to get to safety.

  “Let me go!” he yells, trying to pull his shirt from my fist.

  “Move, Turk! She’s gone!” A sharp pain hits me in the chest, but I keep running.

  Get out of here. Get Turk to safety. It’s what Rory wants you to do.

  “No, no!”

  Turk fights, but I don’t stop. I have the advantage. He’s emotional, and it makes him weak.

  Somehow, I find myself in front of an abandoned warehouse that I’ve hidden in before, almost like my feet have a mind of their own. On the first floor, nearly buried beneath some rubble, there’s a concealed storage area. The enforcers will never be able to find us here.

  I shove Turk through the door and push him forward. He’s stopped struggling, but he’s still crying. His sobs are like needles piercing my heart, and each sound makes my stomach twist painfully. If only he would stop. Give me a chance to pull myself together. If I fall apart, we’re screwed. I
t’s not like he’s going to get us out of this.

  Fallen beams mostly hide the opening, but there’s an area at the bottom just wide enough for us to squeeze through. I push Turk onto his hands and knees, and miraculously, he moves. I shuffle in behind him, feeling my way through the darkness. Turk’s quiet cries echo through the room, my head, and my heart, and I have the sudden urge to cover my ears so I can block them out. Only I need to be able to listen. Need to know if the enforcers have followed us.

  I work to block out his sobs, focusing on the sounds outside this tiny room. As far as I can tell, there’s nothing but silence. We should be okay. There’s no way the enforcers will be able to sneak up on us in here, and I seriously doubt they’ll be able to find our little hole.

  “We could have helped her,” Turk says between sniffs.

  I dig my nails into my palms to distract myself from the throbbing in my chest. “Shhh! You want to get caught?”

  Thankfully, he manages to rein his emotions in a little bit.

  I try my best not to let Turk’s quiet sobs get to me. It’s hard ignoring my own pain with him sniveling on the other side of the room, and the longer we sit here the bigger the pit in my stomach grows until the pain over losing Rory threatens to swallow me whole. How the hell will I go on without her?

  “We have to go get her.” Turk’s voice penetrates the darkness, and I jump.

  “We can’t. You know that. They’re taking her to the mines as we speak.” My stomach rises up, knotted and twisted, trying to choke me from the inside out. I swallow and force it back down, tucking it away with all the pain from the past. Deep inside.

  “Then we have to go into the mines.”

  “You want to break into a prison?” I snort to hide the sob clogging my own throat. “Are you insane? We can’t, so just forget it.”

  “You’re willing to just let her go? Just walk away and pretend she doesn’t exist?” Turk’s voice shakes harder than ever, only this time there’s anger and blame mingled together with the pain. All of it directed at me.

  His accusations sting, but I can’t tell him we’ll try when I know it’s not true. There’s nothing I can say right now to make him understand, and I get it. I love Rory. Thinking about her going back to the mines makes my insides feel like they’re being ripped apart. She’s family to me, something I haven’t had since my parents died, and letting her go isn’t an easy decision to make. But it’s the right one.

  “I’m sorry, Turk,” I say, forcing my voice to soften. “This is how it has to be. Rory and I talked about it a long time ago, and we agreed that if one of us got caught we shouldn’t go for the other. Shouldn’t throw our lives or freedom away on a fool’s errand.”

  He doesn’t say anything, and his silence is louder than any accusation he could throw at me. It pierces the quiet and rings in my ears, making it difficult to think. But I have to push it away. I have to be strong.

  I focus on listening. Concentrating on the sounds of the world outside this room. There isn’t much. A noise here and there, the sound of an animal scurrying through the empty building. But eventually I’m greeted by the sound I’ve been waiting for. The distant hum of an airship’s engine as it flies across the sky. Taking the enforcers with it—and Rory, but I do my best not to think about that last part.

  Even after the sound has faded, I stay where I am. Each second that ticks by gives me the assurance I’ve been waiting for.

  “I think the coast is clear,” I whisper when I’m sure we’re safe. “Let’s go.”

  I don’t wait for Turk’s response before I crawl through the opening and head out into the building. It’s black as coal, and as quiet as the abandoned city of Athens usually is, but I’m still on edge. Behind me Turk climbs out and follows me through the empty building. He’s silent, but the despair radiating off him gets louder and more intense with each step we take.

  My knife is clutched in my hand when we head back out onto the street, but just like I thought, the streets are clear. Still, I’m careful to keep my steps quiet as we pick our way through the city. It takes less than ten minutes for the building we’ve been squatting in to come into view.

  The instant I step through the door, some of the tension in my body melts away. I’m never completely relaxed, but being back is a relief. Even if we are one person short.

  Turk drags himself up the crumbling stairs behind me, but I focus on the holes and rubble instead of him. I don’t need to. We’ve been living in this building long enough that I could probably navigate the littered halls and stairway with my eyes closed. But it helps keep my mind off Rory.

  When I reach the third floor, I stop in my tracks. Dex and Ryder, who are usually fast asleep by this time of night, are waiting for us. Dex paces the hall, his face crinkled with worry and his hands balled into fists at his sides. In complete contrast, Ryder is stretched out on the floor, casually leaning against the wall.

  Dex stops pacing when our eyes meet. “Where the hell have you been?”

  “We got held up,” I say, keeping my eyes off Turk.

  Ryder climbs to his feet and presses his lips together. His eyes go back and forth between Turk and me. “Where’s Rory?” His voice is strained. He already knows the answer.

  I swallow the knife rising in my throat. “She didn’t make it.”

  The silence hanging over us threatens to suffocate me. Turk stalks off, and I’m relieved to see him go. I ache for him, for all of us, but being around him drains my energy, and I need it to keep my own emotions in check.

  Dex’s eyes are moist when he puts his hand on my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine.” I look away.

  I thought men were supposed to be tough, but these guys are wearing their emotions like a jacket, and I’m having a difficult time blocking them out. I need to, though. Need to keep my armor of indifference on if I want to survive this life.

  “What happened?” Ryder asks.

  I focus on a hole in the wall so I don’t have to meet his gaze. The cold fingers of misery squeeze my chest. An all too familiar feeling.

  “I don’t want to talk about it right now,” I say, shaking Dex off. “I need to get some sleep.”

  Neither one of them says a word as I hurry down the hall, but just like with Turk, I feel their silent accusations follow me. I should have done more to save her.

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  Outliers

  First Place Winner in the 2018 Kindle Books Awards for Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction

  Finalist in the 2018 Wishing Shelf Book Awards

  Top 10 Finalist in the 2018 Author Academy Awards for Sci-Fi/Fantasy Fiction

  Chapter One

  The feast was the biggest one yet. After three years of working in the House of Saffron, I should have been used to it. But there were days when no matter what I did, I found it impossible to block out the sights and smells that accompanied my job. The smoky fragrance of roasted meat that begged my stomach to pay it mind, and the mountain of mashed potatoes, complete with rivers of melted butter carving their way through the peaks. No matter how hard I tried to ignore it all, there were moments when my senses took over. On those days my arms and legs worked on muscle memory alone. Carrying the bottle of wine, pouring it ever so carefully so as not to ruin the fine clothes of the people sitting around the table. Serving the dessert, baked apples with cinnamon or raspberries sprinkled with chocolate, all things that never once in my twenty-four years of life had passed my lips. Things that made my mouth water and my knees threaten to give out. Things that my stomach begged for.

  Today was one of those days.

  It was to be expected. Yesterday had been a bad day, so I had taken my meager rations from the kitchen home to Anja and our mother. It was something that the head housemaid frowned upon, but as long as I only did it sparingly, she chose to look the other way.

  “Indra.”

  The sound of my name cutting through the conversation snapped my brain into focus. Saffron was at the head of th
e table, sitting with her back so straight that it looked as if she had a board tied to it, and she was waving me over.

  “Mistress.” I bowed when I stopped at her side, careful to keep my head down.

  She was a short woman, as were all the Sovereign, and standing with my head dipped the way it was meant that we were practically eye to eye. This close up her skin appeared fake. It was the same pale shade as everyone who lived in the city, but waxy and much too smooth to belong to a woman more than half a century old. Her cold eyes were the same shade of gray as her hair, and she possessed a healthy roundness that signified her station in life, yet did not boast the same gluttony most of the other Sovereign’s bodies did. Standing next to her always made me feel like a withered leaf that would soon be blown away by the wind, and today was no different.

  “Your master just had the most wonderful thought,” Saffron paused the way she always did when she spoke. It was her way of making sure everyone was paying attention, something she should have been unconcerned about within these walls. When the head of this house spoke, it felt like the whole world was holding its breath. “Do you know of someone in need of a job?”

  I kept my head low, but my eyes snapped up faster than usual. Was this a trick? Saffron had no sense of humor, but the request still felt wrong. The Sovereign had not created a new position in decades. Our jobs were passed down from generation to generation. Three years ago, when my mother had gotten too sick to keep working, I had taken her place, just as she had taken the place of her mother when she was a young woman.

  “A young boy, perhaps?” Saffron continued when I said nothing. “It’s just that Lysander is about to become a man and I’m sure he could use a Hand to help him throughout the day. He will be starting his own life very soon, you know.”

  I did know. Everyone knew that the son of Saffron and Bastian was about to marry. The house had been preparing for the celebration for nearly a year. I was also painfully aware of the fact that Saffron’s only child had been a man for many years now. A man who preyed on the kitchen staff, who cornered women in the pantry and had his way with them. I had been in that position myself, but only once after first arriving at the house. After that I had learned how to watch my back, being careful never to make myself vulnerable so I would be forced to endure the humiliation of that day again. Not that my efforts had prevented other women from succumbing to the same fate. It was impossible to recount how many times I had been forced to stand by and do nothing as the pleas of another woman penetrated the pantry door. There was nothing for me to do, of course, but I hated myself all the same. Lysander of Saffron was a monster, and yet he was among the class that ruled our little world, and Outliers like myself were powerless to do anything to stop it.