Riwenne & the Bionic Witches

by Kristen S. Walker

  The lower-ranking priestesses led the small audience in the standard prayer.

  O Beautiful Chysa, shine your guiding light

  Onto our daily work and devotion

  Brilliant Chysa, the highest of the gods,

  We ask for your blessing and guidance

  Highest of the gods! I hadn’t questioned those words for most of my life, but now the arrogance was grating. My lips moved to mouth the words and Kyra did the same, but neither of us sang. We weren’t giving Chysa any more of our worship. Instead, my gaze picked out the shrines to Sawycha, Sano, Linar, Qachmy, Omer, and the space where Quilla should have been. I directed my prayers to them.

  When the ritual was complete, Pomavar got up and stood next to the head priestess. Most of the civilians rushed up to speak with them.

  Amena left the temple without a backward glance, trailing a few more fans. That left the real work to the rest of us.

  Kyra, Janera and I stood in line with the customers, although we were careful to stay near the back where he couldn’t see our faces. I noticed some people already had prosthetics: wooden legs, a clawed hand, an entire metal arm that moved with a series of pulleys from the other arm. More injuries than I’d ever seen in the city. Was there something here that made people get hurt more often, or did people in the city lose their jobs and move to the mainland when they got hurt? I didn’t know which was worse.

  “Yes, I can show you how to make your own energy,” Pomavar was saying as he brandished his bloodstone. “The priestesses will assist you, but you make the crystal and it’s yours to keep.”

  An engineer waved her hand with a question. “Can the energy of those crystals be used for other things besides artificial limbs?”

  Pomavar smiled. “I haven’t tested all the potential applications, but this energy is uniquely suited for human use. These,” he tapped his legs, “have been my most successful device yet. But once you’ve made one, you can use it for whatever you want.”

  The engineer turned to the head priestess. “Why doesn’t your temple produce more of the sunstones so you can sell them at a reasonable rate?”

  The head priestess patted the box of sunstones with one gnarled hand. “Creating a sunstone is very draining for us. We can barely make enough to fulfill our quota for the government.” She swept her stern gaze across the demanding crowd. “For you to make your own crystal, you will need to give complete devotion to Chysa. This is not a task to undertake lightly.”

  The customers fell silent.

  Pomavar broke the tension with a laugh. “Yes, but look at the results!”

  A man hopped forward on a crutch. “When can we start?”

  “There’s a screening process,” Pomavar explained. “If you’re ready, why don’t you come along to the office and I can show you the paperwork?”

  The priestesses led the way for Pomavar and his prospective customers. Not everyone followed. With a glance, the three of us left. It was too risky to get any closer where we might be recognized, especially me.

  We joined Amena outside, where she was finishing up with the last of her fans. She waved them off and leaned closer to talk to us privately.

  “Vilqa snuck around the back,” she whispered. “They’ll take the first shift watching him. Tika went with them so we can stay in touch. We’ll figure out who can take the next shift when we meet up with Deryt.”

  I glanced at the temple, but I saw no sign of Vilqa. “I don’t think they’ll find out anything useful. Pomavar was making them do a bunch of paperwork.”

  Kyra raised her eyebrows. “I’d be very interested to know what they’re agreeing to on those contracts. When do you think he’ll admit the dark truth?”

  “Probably not until after they’ve passed the screening process,” Janera suggested. “Pomavar will use that to pick people who aren’t too squeamish and can keep a secret.”

  Kyra nodded. “Good point.”

  I shuddered. How did you ask someone if they were willing to commit murder? Maybe the paperwork would be helpful. “So,” I said, “do we go back to the hotel now, or try to find out where they’re making the devices?”

  “You guys can go back,” Amena said with a nod to the three of us. “I have another meeting with my manager to plan the new album.”

  I perked up. “Or could we come with you? I always wanted to see inside a recording studio!”

  Amena shrugged. “Sure although I don’t know if we will record anything today. But at least one person should be at the hotel for whenever Deryt comes back.”

  “I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Janera volunteered.

  I linked one arm through Amena’s and the other through Kyra’s. “Then let’s go see the studio!”

  24

  More Bionic Witches

  Amena’s warning came true—we never got into a recording booth that day. Bymonten had a lot of issues about the album first, from finding the musicians who would play on each track to planning out the publicity. He’d already lined up a radio interview that afternoon. Even though only they were only broadcasting her voice, she had to spend over an hour with a stylist ahead of time to look perfect.

  “Be prepared for questions about where you’ve been for the last month,” Bymonten told Amena while the stylist fussed over her hair. “They’ll try to trip you up with the accusations, but I want you to focus on this spiritual journey you’ve been on. The appearance you made at the temple this morning didn’t match the image we discussed. You don’t want to sound preachy like those old priestesses.”

  Amena stared at him coolly through his reflection in the mirror. “I think it’s important to honor the past as we look to the future. Temples like Irdemar are old, but they still hold valuable insights for us.”

  Bymonten pursed his lips together. “Hm, yes, I like that. You’re showing respect for your roots.” He stretched out a curl the stylist had just finished setting. “Speaking of roots, have you ever thought about dying your hair? This yellow is very bright and energetic, but I’m not sure if it fits with the new introspective you.” He grabbed Kyra and placed her black and purple hair alongside Amena’s face. “Something dark would add mystery.”

  “I like my hair,” Amena said, prying his hands off Kyra and setting her free. The stylist pushed Bymonten away with more force and started fixing the curls he’d messed up.

  Bymonten sighed. “Maybe just some highlights, then. We can talk about it later.”

  Amena got to keep her hair color, but there were a lot more changes she had to endure over the next few weeks. Bymonten switched her wardrobe to more flowing dresses, almost like priestess robes, except the skirts were short. She had to wear flowers in her hair and carry her guitar even when she wasn’t performing. When her new album sold out its first printing overnight, she followed it up with an acoustic version, featuring her guitar-playing on every track. The newspapers hailed it as a more mature, thoughtful work than her first.

  Interviews, album signings, and more performances kept her busy. Irdemar Temple’s priestesses declared that her message was dangerous and heretical, but the controversy only made her more popular. Fans were traveling to Ruraqie from all over the province to see her. We only saw her late at night.

  But we had our own worries to fill our time. Pomavar was still in town, promising bloodstones and magical prosthetics to a growing list of customers, and it was hard for us to spy on him. He was frequently at the temple, and sometimes he went to the local branch of the Ministry of Technological Research & Development, but security was tight at both. And neither place was where he made the bloodstones or fitted people with their new prosthetics. Try as we might, we couldn’t find the location where he did his real work.

  Pomavar kept his promises. People were getting the new prosthetics from somewhere. We could see more walking around town every day. The news hailed them as the next step in human evolution—power from engineering and religion working together. Magitek, they labeled it. A direct blessing from Chysa for those
who offered her absolute devotion. Temple attendance was rising for the first time in years.

  No one was reported missing, and no mutilated bodies were found, but I knew people had to be dying for the energy in those bloodstones. Seeing them on the street made me sick to my stomach. Another life we’d failed to save, another person corrupted by the blood magic.

  “Don’t the rebels have a huge spy network?” I asked Deryt after he came back from another one of his meetings with Eberet. “They have to know something about the murders.”

  Deryt shook his head. “I’ve had trouble getting any answers out of him, but he admitted today they don’t have any clue about an increase in deaths.” He shrugged. “People go missing all the time, especially if they’re not important. The empire controls the records of all the schools, hospitals, jails, and migrants, people who don’t stay in their assigned jobs. They know who can disappear without being noticed. It’s a big problem for the rebellion. Our spies can get scooped up with no warning, and we can’t report them missing.”

  I noticed he referred to himself as part of the rebellion, even though they kept refusing to help us. He was trying to win over Eberet’s trust by trading information, but that was all they would give us. At least they weren’t getting in our way.

  Janera was the one who finally cracked it. She came back to the penthouse late one night and woke everyone up to tell us the news. “The airships,” she said, panting from a run. “I followed one of Pomavar’s assistants tonight, and it turns out the creep isn’t handling the dirty work at all. His assistants put the patients on airships in the middle of the night and fly them up to Lyndamon. They come back a day later and boom! They’ve got a shiny new bloodstone and a mechanical arm.” She glanced at me. “Or whatever.”

  I slumped back on the couch. I never mentioned her anymore, but reminders of Nexita were still painful. “Then we have to go back to the capital,” I said in a defeated tone. “If that’s the source, we have to stop it there.”

  Amena tapped her chin. She still had makeup on from her latest public appearance. “Bymonten wants to book me in more places. I’m sure if I suggested a return to Lyndamon, he could arrange it in no time.”

  “It’s too dangerous,” Deryt warned. “We’re getting by here with just our work permits, but we don’t have full papers. The constables would arrest us the moment we set foot in Lyndamon.”

  “Then we could destroy the temple where they’re recruiting everyone,” Kyra said.

  Images of the destruction of Sawycha’s temple flashed through my memory. My head snapped up. “We can’t do that! Irdemar isn’t just dedicated to Chysa. And once it’s destroyed, we can never get it back.”

  Her face turned cold. “A temple used to do harm isn’t serving the gods. Our enemies are ruthless, so we have to get tougher on them or we’ve already lost.”

  I reached out and touched her hand. “You’re not that cruel. If we stoop to their level, then it’s not worth winning.”

  Deryt coughed. “Um, maybe there’s another way we can get up to the city. I’ll ask Eberet if he knows of any smuggling tactics to get a few people in.”

  “Do you think he’ll help us?” Janera asked.

  Uqra raised her head. “If we tell him we’ve found the source of the bloodstones, he may finally come around.”

  “Try it,” Tika chirped. “We can discuss our other options tomorrow. The lack of sleep is making everyone too emotional.”

  That was the best suggestion I’d heard. I didn’t feel like walking all the way back to the bedroom, though. I stretched out on the couch, clutched a cushion under my head, and closed my eyes. “Just turn the lights off when you go,” I mumbled.

  I heard the others shuffle out of the room and the lights switched off. Then I felt a blanket being draped over me. I opened my eyes and saw Kyra kneeling on the floor in front of the couch.

  The room was dark with only a faint nightlight coming from one bathroom, but Kyra’s eyes sparkled in the gloom like she was holding back tears. She bowed her head toward me.

  “You’re right,” she whispered. Her hand smoothed my hair back from my face. “I don’t want to be mean to anyone. I know I can be harsh, especially to you, but that’s wrong. It just feels impossible sometimes.”

  I wasn’t sure what was happening, but I had to find the words to encourage her. “That’s why we’re here for each other. This is too much to handle alone, but if we stick together, we can do this.” I put my hand on her shoulder. “I’m here for you.”

  Kyra took a shaky breath. “You’re the first friend I’ve ever had,” she said. Her gaze dropped to the floor. “It means so much to have your support. I never wanted to do anything to jeopardize that. But I’ve been hiding something from you.”

  I squeezed her shoulder. “That’s okay. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter. I care about you and nothing will stop that.”

  She looked back up at me. “Are you sure?”

  My heart was pounding with how close she was. I couldn’t trust my voice, so I smiled and nodded.

  Her lips curved up. Her hand slipped down from my hair and cupped my chin. “I always want to see you smile, Ri,” she whispered, so softly I had to strain to hear her.

  Then she closed the gap and kissed me.

  I melted into that kiss. Her lips were softer and warmer than I’d imagined them. Energy flooded through me. I felt more alive than I’d ever felt before.

  But only a moment later, Kyra pulled back, breathing heavily. She stared at me in shock, then jumped up and rushed out of the room.

  The loss crashed down on me. What did I do wrong? If she was the one who started the kiss, why did she run away? Or did I only imagine that she’d made the first move, and I pushed myself on her? But my head was still on the pillow. A miracle had happened, the thing I’d been dreaming about for months—Kyra had kissed me. But then something had made her run away.

  I wanted to chase after her and find out what was wrong. But I could end up making things worse. I forced myself to stay on the couch while the moment replayed itself in my head over and over. I’d have to wait until she was willing to talk to me again.

  But it was a long, sleepless night with no answers.

  In the morning over breakfast, Kyra kept her head down and wouldn’t make eye contact with anyone, especially me. I was in agony but I gave her space. I worried everyone else would notice how awkward we were being and ask about it, but they all seemed oblivious. Only Tika seemed to suspect something, staying on my shoulder and watching me.

  When we finished eating, Deryt folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “I’m meeting Eberet in less than an hour to tell him about the bloodstones. What’s everyone else got planned for today?”

  “I have a signing at a bookstore this afternoon,” Amena announced. “There’s been an updated printing of my biography with new chapters about my latest work. Does anyone want to come along?”

  Normally, the mere mention of a bookstore would have been enough to get me excited, but today I kept my mouth shut. All I could think about was Kyra’s horrified face last night. Maybe I should pull her aside from the others and confront her about it.

  “You mean Amena’s Rise to Stardom?” Janera said brightly. “I love that book! Remember how we fought over the only copy in the shop, Riwenne?” She elbowed me in the side.

  My head jerked up. “Huh?” It took a moment for the words to penetrate the fog in my brain. “Oh, right. Um, you loaned me your copy, and I left it in my room at the temple. I don’t think I can get it back for you, sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Janera nudged me again. “We can buy new copies at the bookstore. Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

  Amena cleared her throat. “That book was mostly lies and exaggerations by Bymonten. I couldn’t tell the truth about my past—”

  Boom!

  An explosion shook the building, followed by the wail of an emergency siren. Amena and Deryt dove under the table for cover, leaving the rest o
f us frozen in shock. I looked around for signs of our attackers and saw a dark plume of smoke rising outside the window.

  I pushed up from the table. Somebody called after me, but I didn’t slow down. I ran out the patio doors and leaned over the railing for a better look.

  The smoke wasn’t coming from the hotel—there was a smoking crater down the street where Owaqao Train Station used to be. Fire was spreading to the nearby buildings. I couldn’t make out the extent of the damage from here, but there were bound to be people hurt.

  I whirled around and shouted back into the room at the others. “It’s the train station! We need to go help!”

  “Wait!” Janera jumped to her feet. “We can’t just run in there, Riwenne, it could be a trap!”

  “I can’t sit by while people are getting hurt.” I gripped my moonstone and called on Quilla’s power, transforming my clothes into my divine warrior’s armor. I made sure the goggles were hiding my face. Before anyone else could stop me, I dashed to the edge and jumped.

  Twelve stories was a long way even with magic, but there was another building about half the size of The G next door, and another after that. I hopped across the rooftops to the site of the disaster. By now, I could hear the screams of the victims. I covered my mouth against the smoke and made a final jump into the epicenter.

  My feet skidded as they landed in the debris. The train station was unrecognizable, everything twisted away from a hole like it had been pushed back by the explosive force of a bomb. There was a locomotive thrown through the building across from me. The smoke was thick and seemed to mute the sound of the sirens outside. I looked around for people to help, but this close to the blast, there was only death.