A second later, the sleeve of her jumpsuit catches fire. Minnie screams and thrashes and drops her gun. I dive to the ground, retrieve the weapon, and point it at the struggling girl. Two shots later, she trips over something on the ground and falls onto her back. I leave her whimpering and rolling in the dirt.
“Zea-Mays?” Vitelotte shines the flashlight around the clearing and stops when it illuminates my face. “Are you hurt?”
The light stings my good eye, and I squint. “I’ll live.”
She dips the beam. “What did you do to her?”
Shame ripples through my insides at having set a girl alight. Again. “The gas-lighter.”
“Oh.”
By now, Minnie’s screams turn to whimpers, and I chew my bottom lip. Vitelotte probably thinks I went too far with the fire. It was a similar action that turned the girls against me on the armored vehicle, and the more I think about it, the more I wonder if she wasn’t so scared last night but disgusted.
With the threat of death no longer hanging over me, I could have found a less violent way to disable the other attacker, but I let rage cloud my senses, and now she’s burned.
Vitelotte points the flashlight in Minnie’s face. “Where are your teammates?”
The girl curls into a ball and cries.
“She’s never going to answer,” says Vitelotte. “We may have to carry out the threat you made with the ax.”
My gaze drops to the metal glinting on the ground inches away from Vitelotte’s feet. This is a great bluff.
Minnie raises her head. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Vitelotte walks a wide perimeter around the girl and presses the flashlight into my hands. “Hold this.”
I shine it into Minnie’s eyes, expecting Vitelotte to menace the girl with the ax. Instead, she places the ax on her belt and walks to the other Guardian girl who lies unconscious by a log. I side-step, twist the flashlight’s lens so it can cast a wider beam, and it illuminates the entire clearing.
Minnie sits up looking like she wants to bolt. I point the gas-lighter at her face and growl at her to stay down. She flinches and scoots back toward the trees.
Vitelotte drags the unconscious girl to Minnie and unzips the girl’s jumpsuit.
“Tulip,” Minnie claps both hands to her cheeks and screams.
I walk to the side to see what’s so shocking about the unconscious girl. I can’t see her features, except to know that they’re slack, but the light reflects the liquid pouring from a gash across her neck.
A cold fist of shock hits me in the gut. The lighter slips from my fingers and clatters onto a rock.
Vitelotte cut the girl’s neck with the chainsaw. She used it as a garrote to pull her off my chest and then twisted it to rupture her veins. What else can explain all that blood?
My breath comes in shallow pants, and the sensation of crawling centipedes covers my skin. There’s no way this girl—I’m sure Minnie shouted out the name Tulip—there’s no way Tulip could survive a wound like this so far from civilization.
Bile rises to the back of my throat, choking off my words. I sway on my feet and fight off the urge to scream. I’ve seen a border guard pummel a man’s head with a rifle until it split, a girl executed with an ear cuff, and another girl blown into pieces, but those were atrocities executed by other Echelons.
This is the first time I’ve seen a Harvester act so ruthlessly.
“Now.” Vitelotte points the ax at Minnie’s throat. “Who sent you to attack my friend?”
The girl spews out a stream of pleas and jumbled sentences. Somewhere within the incoherent mess, she says she’s working with Ingrid Strab.
My lips press together in a firm line, and I exhale a frustrated breath. The revelation is no surprise, but with the queen’s threats, one more person wanting me dead is exhausting.
The worst part is that when Minnie returns to the palace, she’ll probably tell everyone that I murdered Tulip just so I can get executed to fulfill her bargain with Ingrid. I’m also sure Queen Damascena will then kill my family out of spite.
“What made you think you could murder Zea-Mays in cold blood?” Vitelotte rubs the edge of the blade down Minnie’s neck.
Through stuttering breaths, Minnie explains that the camera drones broadcast on a certain frequency, which she blocked using a passcode she got from Ingrid. The cameras attached to our clothes send footage to the storage devices on our belts, and they were planning to burn those along with my body.
“Please.” Minnie raises a hand. “If you let me go, I’ll turn spy.” She gasps out a sob. “I’ll warn you about Ingrid’s plans.”
Vitelotte raises the ax and pretends she’s going to swing. “How do I know you’re not saying that to save yourself?”
Her eyes bulk. “I wouldn’t—”
The blade lodges into the side of Minnie’s neck.
Shock knocks all the air from my lungs. The flashlight slips from my fingers, and I fall to my knees.
Vitelotte rushes to my side and clutches my arms. “Zea!” Panic raises her voice several octaves. “Zea-Mays, what happened?”
The eye that isn’t throbbing in time with my panicked heart fills with tears. My insides feel hollow, my lungs won’t work, and I struggle for air.
Somehow, I manage to rasp, “You killed them both.”
“She pointed a gun into your eye.” Her fingers dig into the fabric of my jumpsuit, and she gives me a hard shake. “The other one admitted they were going to kill you. Didn’t you hear her confession?”
I did, but we had that girl on her knees, and… Possibilities stream through my mind. If we released her, she would report us for the murder of her friend. If we let her become our spy, she might turn double-agent and lead us into a trap. Maybe Vitelotte was right, and I’m being naive, but there had to be a better way than murdering a defenseless girl.
A little voice in the back of my mind reminds me that I’m no different from Vitelotte. I wanted to stop Ingrid’s heart with two jabs of a poisoned dart and I also killed Berta.
Raising my head, I give Vitelotte a nod. “You’re right.”
She releases my jumpsuit and straightens. The ax hangs in my line of sight, its blade still glistening with Minnie’s blood.
“I did this for you,” she says.
“Thanks,” I whisper. It’s an automatic response, and part of me still wishes there was a way out of the Trials that didn’t result in deaths.
“You don’t hear what the other girls say about you,” she murmurs. “Half of them want you dead.”
I make what I hope is a grunt of understanding, knowing that she’s only half-right. The group of people plotting my death doesn’t only extend to the girls.
Vitelotte walks to the Guardians’ backpacks, which are thicker than the ones we found in our jeep. The flashlight lies on its side, illuminating the unmoving bodies. I turn away from them to watch my murderous companion rifle through their contents and pull out a bottle of clear fluid.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“Burning the forensic evidence, just like they planned for us.”
Us. My belly roils. I’m sure these girls shot at us and tried to make us both fall into a river of giant, man-eating reptiles. Even if Vitelotte had survived their attempt to kill me, they would have eliminated her to protect themselves.
It’s too late to feel squeamish. I could have broken away from Vitelotte but I didn’t. Now that she has protected me, it’s time for me to help protect her.
I reach into my pack, pull out a penknife, and kneel at Minnie’s side. The scent of burned plastic and singed hair stings my sinuses. I press my fingers into her pulse, and the warmth of her body seeps into my skin. When I feel no beat, I place my palm over her nose to check that she’s not breathing.
“What are you doing?” Vitelotte stands over me, holding the bottle of QuickBurn.
“We’re not burning them alive.” I shuffle a few steps to Tulip and roll her close to Minnie’s side.
After checking that she’s dead, I rise to my feet, step back, and let Vitelotte pour the liquid on the girls’ bodies.
What would they call my actions? An accessory to murder, or an accomplice? After emptying the bottle, she slides it into her backpack and guides me to stand away. I back toward the trees and watch her set a twig alight with the gas-lighter.
“Go on.” She hands me the burning twig, takes off her belt, and throws it onto the pile.
With one touch of the fire, Tulip’s chest is alight. Violet flames spread across her body and fill the air with the acrid scent of burning plastic. As the flames jump onto Minnie’s corpse, I unbuckle my belt and add it to the funeral pyre. Heat radiates over my skin. I step back, and something cracks beneath my feet. It’s Minnie’s tablet computer.
“We’d better burn all their things.” I throw the gadget onto the fire, which bursts into yellow flames and black smoke.
Vitelotte tosses something at me, which lands on my feet with a clink. “Not until we deal with Ingrid and the other Guardian.”
I pick up a gun and gulp. She’s right. Ingrid is out there somewhere, and we’re going to need every advantage to survive. As the tablet computer crackles and pops, I turn from the fire and pick up one of the Guardians’ backpacks.
“Let’s get out of here before someone comes to investigate,” she mutters.
As we leave the clearing and step under the branch of a sprawling oak, I cast the funeral pyre one last glance. Even though those Guardian girls tried to kill me, I can’t help but wonder about their families. The grief on General and Doctor Ridgeback’s faces still stings like a slap, and I can’t forget the general’s accusing eyes as I stood on the stage and rejoined the Princess Trials.
Dried leaves crack underfoot, and each time I step on a twig, my body flinches. Owls hoot, cicadas chirp, and clawed feet skitter over the branches, but nothing can erase the crackle and pop of those flames. Sights and smells of their burning bodies haunt me no matter how far we walk. When a fox darts across our path, I feel nothing.
We continue under the thick canopy, which blocks out all but the barest traces of moonlight. Vitelotte’s calm breaths fill my ears, and I slide my gaze to her dark form and wonder about my new friend. Until the Trials, I had never noticed her around Rugosa, but she had noticed me. When we jumped off the ridge, she made a perfect landing, and she killed those girls with startling efficiency.
Nothing about the way she acted tells me she’s a regular Harvester girl like Forelle. I wonder if she’s a Red Runner, but that can’t be right. Ryce is the leader of Rugosa’s youth cell, and I know all its members. If she was one of us, I would have seen her in at least one meeting.
Who is Vitelotte Solar? An Amstraadi spy? I shake off that thought, even though it’s more plausible than her being a Red Runner.
A high-pitched scream makes my heart jolt, and I grab Vitelotte’s arm. “Did you hear—”
“It’s coming from behind that hedgerow,” she points straight ahead.
The screamer begs for mercy, and two other voices laugh. A rush of anger fills my belly. What if that’s Ingrid torturing someone for fun?
I lean into Vitelotte and whisper, “Let’s go.”
She nods, and we continue toward the hedge. Up close, it’s actually bitterthorn, a shrub that produces berries even more poisonous than mandragon. It grows like a weed along the edges of cornfields and if left unchecked, it can wipe out an entire crop.
From a distance, the plant resembles a giant tumbleweed, but each of its branches sprouts thorns that range from the size of my finger to as long as my hand.
We reach the edge of the bitterthorn, which stretches for several feet and on its right side climbs onto the edge of a vertical rock face. Several feet on the left stands a hawthorn tree with a trunk wide and sturdy enough to take the weight of two.
The voice at the other side of the shrub bursts into wracking sobs that remind me of Minnie’s cries for mercy. My steps falter, but the mystery girl’s scream forces me back into action. I grab Vitelotte’s arm and point at the hawthorn.
She follows in silence. Whoops and laughter from the other girls make me remember last night’s hunting party, and I speed ahead. Using the knots in the wood as footholds, I climb up to a thick branch that merges with the branch of a tree on the other side. It takes a little maneuvering to get a vantage point, but as I round the second tree, my gaze lands on light stakes surrounding the entrance of a cave.
Light stakes are temporary posts that embed into the earth with spikes. At the end of them is a powerful bulb that illuminates the fields at night during the harvest.
The stakes around the cave are about five feet tall and light up five girls standing within its threshold. They all wear hoods, save for the fifth girl who's hunched over because someone is gripping her blonde hair. From the girl’s curvaceous figure, it can only be Emmera.
A pair of drones hover at the cave’s entrance, meaning that the producers have overridden whatever Minnie did to block the camera signals.
“Mistresses, please,” Emmera whines. “I can’t.”
One of the girls boots her in the back, making her stumble further into the cave. Emmera dashes out, only for another girl to give her a hard shove. She spins, gets punched by another of the girls, and falls onto her knees. She bows her head, and her body convulses with sobs.
As they surround her, fury simmers in my gut. What on earth do they think they’re doing? Vitelotte mounts a nearby branch, and her angry breaths fill my ears. I dislike Emmera, but it’s an affront to see a Harvester surrounded by bullying Nobles.
“Don’t tell me you’re loyal to Ingrid,” says a mocking voice.
“No,” Emmera cries.
“Then you’ll do us the courtesy of retrieving the statuette from inside the cavern.”
A breath catches in the back of my throat.
Vitelotte hisses through her teeth. “We’ve got to save her.”
My lips form a tight line. Before Emmera sided with the Nobles and tried to hunt me, I might have rushed forward in a blaze of Harvester solidarity. Her betrayal still burns like a bullet wound, and every instinct screams at me to stay in that tree and keep quiet.
Despite this, my hands fumble in my stolen backpack’s side-pocket for the gun. There are two reasons for this. One, if I don’t help, Vitelotte will jump down and might get herself hurt, and two, I don’t want any of those four to retrieve Gaia’s treasure.
I aim my gun at the girl standing between me and Emmera. She’s kicking the fallen girl and laughing at her screams. My finger squeezes the trigger, and in the blink of an eye, the Noble screams and flinches.
“Darby,” one of them yells. “What’s wrong?”
She turns in the direction of the Bitterthorn. “Gunshot.”
The other girl growls. “Ingrid, call off your Guardian dogs.”
I hold my breath and consider the possibilities. If they think Ingrid is behind the attack and wants the treasure for herself, this might work to my advantage. With these guns, we could unite the Nobles against Ingrid, and maybe they’ll stop trying to target me.
Vitelotte makes several accurate shots at the girls surrounding Emmera, once again proving that she’s no ordinary Harvester. I shoot alongside her, hitting the fleeing Nobles and taking down the drones, which fall to the ground with an almighty crash. We don’t stop shooting until the last Noble runs away swearing vengeance against Ingrid.
We wait on our branches for several minutes and watch Emmera cower at the cave’s entrance. Vitelotte makes no move to help the girl to her feet, but eventually, Emmera stands and runs out of the cave.
“Do you want the treasure?” whispers Vitelotte.
“No,” I whisper back. “But I don’t want it falling into the hands of Ingrid Strab.”
She grunts her agreement. “There’s another bottle of Quickburn in my backpack. What do you say?”
I still owe the production assistants for tampering with my glid
er and arranging the ligers. It’s also time to turn Queen Damascena’s rage elsewhere.
A smile curls my lips. “Let’s see what they make of this failed challenge in the Lifestyle Channel.”
Vitelotte huffs a laugh.
When there’s no sign of the girls returning, Vitelotte rifles through her backpack and pulls out the full and empty bottles of QuickBurn.
Excitement ripples through my insides. She’s making a fire bottle. On one of the few Red Runner youth cell meetings Carolina ran, she taught us how to create these weapons in preparation for the revolution.
Vitelotte hands me both bottles then reaches into another pack and pulls out Gaia’s bible. Its pages are made of a thick parchment that won’t burn as quickly as paper or make the bottle explode before it reaches its target. I open the full QuickBurn bottle, pour half its contents in the empty one, and soak the parchment so that it forms a wick.
After placing the soaked parchment in the bottle, I hand it to Vitelotte, who wraps it in medical tape and places it between her knees. I prepare mine, ignite its wick with the gas-lighter, and create a orange flame that flickers in the wind.
I turn the lighter to the bottle Vitelotte holds outstretched. “Ready?”
She nods.
“On my count.” I raise the bottle, and Vitelotte mirrors the movement. “One… two… three!”
The bottles fly through the air, their burning making an arc of fire that lands in the cave’s back wall. With an ear-splintering boom and a ball of fire, smoke and soot and splinters of stone force us back. My arms fly to my face, and my back slams into the trunk.
For the next few heartbeats, ringing fills my ears. I can’t stop shaking. Maybe it’s the QuickBurn. My lessons in the Red Runners never prepared me for the intensity of a fire bottle. I scrunch my face, clench my hands, and examine my body for lacerations. Fortunately, I’m not hurt.
I turn to Vitelotte. “Are you alright?”
She squeezes my shoulder. I think that means yes.
Seconds later, a rumbling sound makes my heart tremble. Vitlotte squeezes me hard, and I squeeze back. With the light stakes ruined in the explosion, I’m guessing the cave has collapsed.
The Princess Games: A young adult dystopian romance (The Princess Trials Book 2) Page 6
