by Dave Rudden
Denizen weighed his knife in his hands, fully aware that holding a weapon and staring off into space was bad manners in any company, but also knowing that if his brain stopped freewheeling he wouldn’t be able to help craning his neck to further up the line, where jogging along with everyone else was the daughter of the Endless King.
Any minute now. Daybreak’s shaking had worsened, and Vivian now held the radio to her ear constantly, jaw set as if she felt every update from the Glimpse as a personal blow. There were plenty of distractions, but all the warriors around them, teenager or not, had been trained to detect creatures that toxically, painfully did not belong in this world. Would they cry out? Would they sound the alarm? Or would they just –
‘Hey!’
It was the accusatory tone that finally snapped Denizen out of his reverie. There was a tall boy beside him, staring at him through hair as long and straight as falling ink.
‘You’re him.’
There wasn’t much you could say to that. Now that Denizen thought about it, since he and Mercy’s first meeting, there was only one him anyone ever meant. And to think I was worried about just being Vivian’s son …
Well, at least he had some practice. Frown No. 4 – Give Nothing Away – locked into place.
‘I’m who now?’
Maybe the non-committal tone would have worked with a normal teenager, but the Neophyte’s gaze was like a sniper scope. ‘You were about to step into the Glimpse when that thing came out. You defended it.’
Heads were turning. Denizen squirmed, briefly considering hiding in his conflict poncho, but before he could answer a girl joined them, vastly muscled, a sun tattoo on her thick neck.
‘Leave him alone, Stefan,’ she said. ‘The thing was using him as a shield.’ She gave him an appraising look. ‘Nice Bend, by the way. What was the Cost?’
To his horror, Denizen found himself blushing. Say something! The line was slowing, more and more Neophytes crowding round. Simon had gone up to the top of the line to speak to Vivian, and Denizen suddenly felt very exposed, assailed on all sides by questions with a disheartening attention to detail.
‘You weren’t at the first training session, were you?’
‘Did they take you to Greaves’s office after that creature attacked? What did he say?’
‘Forget that, what did it say?’
Denizen always felt outnumbered. That was a fundamental part of who he was. There was only one of him in the world, after all. He should have been paying attention to the Inquisition in front of him, this wall of faces and narrowed eyes, but instead all he could do was ask himself a question of his own:
Was this how Mercy felt?
‘Is there a problem here?’
Vivian talked the way she fought – clipped, brutal and with the goal of putting her opponent down as quickly as possible. Suddenly looming over all their heads, it was very clear from her expression that she wasn’t enquiring if there were a problem so much as offering to become one.
Stop using my son as a shield.
There was something very satisfying about how quickly the Neophytes dispersed. Stefan still gave them a lingering look that stopped only when Vivian met it with a scowl.
‘Sorry,’ Vivian murmured under her breath. ‘I know mothers aren’t supposed to sweep in and save their kids from –’
‘Vivian,’ Denizen whispered back, eyes still on the retreating teenagers, ‘you can save me whenever you want.’
Only Denizen could hear her tiny pleased hmph. They began moving again, and Denizen attempted a quick not-at-all-suspicious examination of the girl at Grey’s side – shapeless under her poncho, her hair tucked messily under a cap, stray strands standing out against the black material like forks of summer lightning.
Mr Observant hasn’t noticed her, Denizen thought pettily, and then immediately kicked himself for tempting fate. People often went their entire lives without sensing Tenebrous. In present company, there was nothing strange about her arm being bound to her chest, and the strain on her face mirrored every Neophyte’s in the line.
We’re all under strain, Denizen thought. Why would she be any different?
Because the second she loses concentration for even a heartbeat, the second her facade cracks and a drop, a flicker of her umbra shows …
Then what? His focus had been on freeing Mercy. He had no idea what Greaves would do when he found out she was gone. He nearly stumbled as he suddenly realized he had no idea what Grey had been required to do to free her. He had no idea what Vivian would do if and when she found out, and what it would mean for him when she did.
‘I’m sorry you got piled on.’ Simon fell in beside him, shooting Stefan’s back a dirty look. ‘Stefan’s all right, really. Everyone’s just …’
‘I know,’ Denizen said distractedly, though, if he were being honest, Stefan’s personality was far less relevant than the fact he was currently blocking Denizen’s view of Mercy. Why couldn’t she have morphed into someone tall?
Wait – there she was, walking alongside that massive German kid. Were they talking? What were they talking about? How was she able to have a conversation?
How is she better at blending in than me?
Denizen looked away before Simon could notice his blush.
‘I see they gave you a sword.’
Simon, who even after a year had so far only successfully sparred against his own elbows, shrugged. ‘I’m not even sure what good it’ll be. And not just because I’m using it.’
A dark shadow passed across his face.
‘You didn’t see the Emissary.’ The taller boy wrapped his arms around himself. ‘And Abigail’s still –’
‘I did,’ Denizen said, trying surreptitiously to look over Simon’s shoulder and only achieving an excellent view of the taller boy’s armpit. ‘It was chained in Os Reges Point. We went there last year.’
‘No,’ Simon said, and there was something in his voice, but Vivian was walking by Mercy, close enough to touch, and Denizen’s heart was pounding so hard he was afraid it was going to give him away –
‘Denizen.’
Simon was glaring at him. Denizen blinked. ‘What?’
‘What do you mean, what? What are you looking at –’
Denizen shook his head frantically, but, before he could dissuade his friend, Simon had craned his neck, achieving very easily what the shorter boy couldn’t. He frowned.
‘Who’s that? I didn’t see her at training.’
‘Absolutely no idea,’ Denizen responded, not at all suspiciously. ‘I was just … just looking, I guess.’
Simon raised an eyebrow.
‘Right,’ Simon said. ‘Well … OK. It’s not the best time to start getting a crush.’ His sudden smile made Denizen feel like a monster. ‘What is it with you and dangerous crushes? It could be worse, I guess. At least it’s not –’
Like water icing over, the colour drained from Simon’s face, his smile glassy and frozen and trapped.
‘Oh no,’ Denizen said, again entirely unsuspiciously. ‘Simon, I –’
There seemed to be something in Simon’s throat.
‘Simon, it’s not what you think –’
‘ISN’T IT?’ Simon hissed, and then immediately clamped his hands over his mouth as Neophytes turned in surprise. Denizen flushed guiltily.
‘Is it maybe exactly what I think?’
In unspoken unison, they slowed down to open a gap between them and the others, a gap Simon’s voice swiftly rose to fill.
‘What were you thinking? What is actually going through your head?’
‘Nothing!’ Denizen retorted, and then winced. ‘I mean, nothing bad. The thing beyond the Glimpse said it wanted Mercy. You know what Greaves is like – he would have traded her.’
‘You don’t know that.’
‘I didn’t want to take the chance. Mercy said if we find her father, he can fix all this – crush the Usurpers and take back his throne. Everything goes back to normal.’
Simon was just staring at him now, and Denizen could see the tiny flecks of gold spiral up through his eyes. It struck him that he’d never seen Simon lose his temper enough to have his power manifest under his skin before.
‘Wait – was that where you went before we left?’
Denizen swallowed. ‘I … yes. I went back and I used the Starlight Caul – you don’t have a monopoly on it, you know –’ He tried to smile, but it died in the air between them. ‘And I … convinced Grey to help me.’
Simon buried his face in his hands. ‘Of course you did. Of course you did. And now – what? What’s your plan, O fearless rebel? Or did you bother to think that far?’
‘Yes I did, actually,’ Denizen said. He could feel his own fire chewing on the barricades in his head, fighting to be heard. It had its own opinions on people who disagreed with Denizen.
‘We get her out. Vivian will lead the counter-charge like Greaves said, and I guess … I’ll help Mercy find the King.’
The fire in Simon’s eyes vanished. ‘Oh. You will.’
Simon had always been better at keeping a lid on his power. He’d first manifested it to hide, after all, but he was also just a much calmer person. Denizen, however … The big book in the nurse’s office in Crosscaper had called it catastrophizing – the dubious talent of overthinking your way to disaster. When Denizen got tangled in the negative consequences of things that hadn’t happened yet, Simon had always been there with the shears.
Anxiety was real to the anxious. It never worked when Denizen told himself that what he worried about wasn’t real, but the fact was he trusted Simon a lot more than he trusted himself. He’d never thought about it going both ways.
He’d never thought it could break.
‘You’ll run after her,’ Simon growled. ‘While the rest of us are fighting and dying for our world, you’ll head off with her. Because that’s what you do.’
It was a moment before Denizen realized what Simon meant. What he himself had said.
Vivian will lead the counter-charge and I’ll …
Leave.
His friends. His family – the little of it that he had. His Order. His species. Mercy had been back in his life for five full minutes and already he had betrayed all of them, and was planning to do it again.
That’s not what I’m doing. I’m trying to help everyone. In the long run. Isn’t that what Greaves does? Isn’t that what Vivian did, when she left me behind? Why am I not allowed to do what the situation needs? Why is it only me who has to –
It was so hard to focus on keeping that rigid structure in his head when fire was the only simple thing left in his life. So hard to be strong, and see disappointment in his best friend’s eyes.
‘Simon, I’m not abandoning you. I’m not abandoning anyone. This is just something we have to do. To save people. You can’t …’
Can’t be mad at me. Please don’t be mad at me.
‘You went back for her,’ Simon said, his voice flat. ‘You went back for her and broke the rules to make sure she was safe.’
‘Yes,’ Denizen said, daring to feel a spark of relief. ‘That’s all I was doing.’
‘And what about Abigail?’
Denizen stiffened.
‘What about our friend, Denizen? The girl who goes to the chipper for us when neither of us can move after running? The girl who risks her life for us day in and day out, when our stupidity nearly gets us killed? The girl who’s now alone in a city with the scariest thing I’ve ever seen?’
For a moment, Denizen was convinced Simon was going to hit him.
‘Would she have left you behind?’
‘It’s not that …’
Simple. Except … what if it was?
‘She would have gone back for you,’ Simon snarled. ‘Abigail Falx would actually have broken the rules for you. And you don’t even spare a thought for her.
‘You don’t even … I told you something really important on the way here, or tried to tell you, or was trying to tell myself, I don’t know, and you haven’t even bothered to try and talk to me about it either, because you’re too busy to –’
It took Denizen a second to remember what Simon was talking about, and that second gave anger all the head start it needed on shame.
‘We’re all busy, Simon,’ he snapped, and then shame caught up, and he tried to mollify his tone. ‘You know I don’t care if you’re … that you’re … You know I wouldn’t care –’
‘Yeah, well – funny the things you’ll make time for,’ Simon snapped back. ‘And I know you don’t care, but I want you to care. I want you to maybe have a talk with me about something I’m feeling instead of what you’re feeling, or maybe worry about our missing friend, but you’re too busy chasing the girl who’s brought nothing but pain and misery and death to our door.’
‘I am thinking of Abigail. I’m trying to think of everyone. I’m trying to –’
‘No, Denizen, you’re not. Do you know what I was doing when you were breaking Mercy out? I was trying to get your mother to stay and find our friend.’
‘Simon …’ Denizen felt a prickle in the corner of his eyes, and for once it wasn’t fire rising, but a lump that took the place of words he knew weren’t enough. ‘I didn’t think –’
‘No,’ Simon said quietly. ‘You didn’t. You don’t, when she’s around. And that’s not good enough, Den. It just isn’t.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m going to check how the others are doing.’
‘Wait,’ Denizen whispered. ‘Please don’t –’
Simon glanced at Mercy one more time. She was staring back, and it might have been distance or imagination or simply Denizen’s guilt, but in the half-light of the hallway her eyes looked sapphire blue. Abigail’s eyes.
‘It’s fine,’ Simon said. ‘You have everyone you need right here.’
18
One of These Things is Not Like the Other
‘If we do find the Emissary,’ Matt said, ‘I’m going to go out in a blaze of glory.’
Abigail fought the urge to introduce a blaze of glory to his face. People talked more when they were nervous. She’d heard that, but it wasn’t something she’d had much experience of.
‘Like it probably wasn’t even that big, when you think about it. Combat can mess with your head. Or it was the … angle. Tenebrous can play tricks on the eye, you know. It’s like a power they have –’
Navigating the calcified warrens of Adumbral, hands held out the way D’Aubigny taught her, trying to separate one flavour of wrong from a city soaked in it for centuries –
‘We’ve definitely had ones that big in Edinburgh. The whole city’s half in the Tenebrae – did I mention that?’
Deserted streets. Plazas like the flat plane of a stomach before ribcage swells of structures and alleys so narrow they could have been the lines in a cupped palm. Abigail could have understood nervousness, might have accepted it, if every second sentence weren’t –
‘They should have given us weapons. They should have given me a weapon. My sword is just sitting in my cell in Daybreak. What good is that?’
For someone who spent most of her time hitting her friends as hard as she could, Abigail considered herself a reasonable person. When you could set people on fire with one hand and stab them with the other, it was sort of a requirement. But she’d been up for more than twenty-four hours at this point, and the hairs on her neck had been up for ten. She hadn’t shed a drop of sweat, despite the rising temperature, but it bubbled and pricked the inside of her skin as if desperate to get out.
And Matt was … Matt was commentating.
‘… I’m not saying I couldn’t take Hagen, because I do have a longer reach, but also, look at him. He’s like a tank –’
It didn’t help Abigail’s mood that, for something that had dented the world so harshly, the Emissary had now vanished as if it had never been. No footprints. No trail to follow. It shouldn’t have been difficult to track something that huge, even through
a city so twisted by Tenebrous, but with all her training, all her experience, Abigail was reduced to straining her senses and hoping against hope that the path she took was the right one.
Your training didn’t help you against the Emissary.
‘I can’t believe he ran. I mean, they all did. I was going to stay and fight, but then the little girl, your mate, she was just standing there –’
Your training didn’t stop you abandoning your comrades.
‘A good claymore, and things would have gone differently. I’d have shown that thing just what happens to creatures stupid enough to attack Adumbral –’
‘Can you please keep quiet?’ The hiss escaped Abigail like a kettle full of arsenic, boiling and venomous and wincingly loud. You couldn’t trust sound not to travel with the Tenebrae griming the air. Every time she moved her head, it smeared strange tastes across her lips, prickling her skin and turning her stomach, and she had to lean into that sickness, and pray that the thing they hunted wasn’t hunting them.
‘I’m just saying.’ Matt had folded his arms, and Abigail abruptly felt the tiniest prick of guilt. You’re not really angry at him. Well, no, she absolutely was, but it was partly because he was being an idiot, and partly because anger kept her focused, and if she didn’t stay angry she’d still be curled up staring at the dust.
‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just …’
The bowed heads of the buildings. The bulbous growths on their sides where things had once tried to birth.
‘I know,’ Matt said. ‘But, um …’ He kicked at a cobblestone. ‘You’re right. Finding the Emissary is what’s important.’ He brightened. ‘Do you think Greaves will knight us on the spot? I hear they do that sometimes, for Neophytes who do something crazy brave. Hey – is that …’
Abigail’s eyes narrowed. ‘Is that what?’
‘Is that why you stayed behind? To go up against the Emissary?’
Bright and blue and guileless, Matt’s eyes threw her own reflection back at her, and it wasn’t someone she recognized at all.
‘Yeeesss,’ Abigail said. ‘That’s what I did.’
And just like that, she was a liar as well. Abigail never lied. Had it been Denizen or Simon in front of her, she would have just told them the truth automatically. So why can’t I tell him? You ran. You abandoned your comrades. You abandoned the Order and the crusade you’re supposed to serve. Tell him. Why does it matter?
