The Warrior

by Victoria Scott

  “So quickly?” I ask, but I’m glad for it. Nothing is worse than sitting around. And what the jackrabbits did—it’s progress. It’s victory. Thirty minutes ago, there were five collectors. Now one of them—Anthony, the largest—is dead. I stabbed him repeatedly on the field. But they killed him. What if next time they catch Rector? The sirens won’t fight without a leader, will they?

  “It’s imperative that we strike repeatedly in fast succession so they don’t have time to plan a proper defense against our strategy.” Charlie touches Aspen’s shoulder like she’s just thought of something, but it’s more like she wanted to reassure herself that she was there. “Someone will come to relieve the collector soon and they’ll discover that he’s dead. We want to be there when that happens.”

  “What do you think they’re doing out there?” a human asks.

  We gaze into the distance. It’s a question I’ve asked myself a dozen times. Why aren’t they pursuing us like we are them?

  Aspen squats down next to Lincoln, who doesn’t seem to be able to stand. “Can you go again so soon?”

  Though Lincoln nods, I can’t help thinking this is brutal. Lincoln is a human, who weeks ago was lounging in his father’s apartment in Denver. Today, he cut off a foot. He killed a collector and stole a piece of dargon from the devil’s own collection.

  Lincoln gestures to two new guys. They stand up, ready to serve our cause. “This time, we could stay close to their camp. We don’t have to come back between each sting. In fact, it’s probably better that we didn’t. They could follow us back. Right now, we could be anywhere. But if they follow us, they’ll sense your dargon and know just where to find you.”

  “No,” Aspen snaps. “We need to know you’re safe. We also need to keep count on our end of how many collectors, or sirens for that matter, remain.”

  “We’ll never be able to keep count of the sirens,” Annabelle interjects.

  Aspen grimaces. “My point stands.”

  Kraven drops the rabbit and comes to stand beside Lincoln. “Are you ready?”

  Lincoln steps back. “I said I was.”

  And just like that, Lincoln and the two fresh jackrabbits head into the false security of night, across the Lion’s Hand, and into enemy territory.

  After they’re gone, Aspen fidgets. She seemed confident the first time they left, but now something feels different. The collectors may have already found Anthony’s body. They could be laying a trap for our jackrabbits now. To keep her mind off Lincoln, I tell her we need to come up with a more impactful plan.

  She asks what I mean.

  What do I mean?

  Valery closes in, and I fight the urge to yell at her. She’s been belittled, ignored, and ridiculed by almost every member at camp, and she repeats the same thing over and over. “I was wrong. I made a mistake, and I’ll spend the rest of my days as a liberator protecting the soldier and savior.” She says Rector came to her in a dream and presented an offer. Before she woke, he told her what she had to do, and what word to speak to open the vultrips. I’m not sure anyone believes her, but I do. Valery prays a lot now. Kraven encourages her when she does this. Personally, I think it adds insult to injury. Does she think Big Guy will forgive her? I’ve got her answer right here: No.

  Big Guy is not the forgiving type.

  “Dante?” Charlie’s attention gives me confidence. We need a plan. A better plan for when the collectors and sirens realize what we’re up to.

  I stride back and forth in front of the fire like it’s my stage. Like these people are my audience, and what I’m about to say is Shakespearean. “What the jackrabbits need is a larger weapon.”

  “I’m listening,” Max says. Except he says it like, I’m liiistening.

  “What if we built a platform of sorts?” I suggest. “The jackrabbits could carry Oswald on top of it so they’re still quiet. After Oswald does his orange magic trick, then one of the jackrabbits can sound the horn and I can fly in and get Oswald. The jackrabbits could scatter and hide. They’re good at that. We hit the enemy from a different angle every time. They’ll never know where we’re going to strike next, and we’ll take out hordes of sirens, and maybe some collectors, at once.”

  Aspen’s eyes enlarge. She’s excited by the idea. “The jackrabbits could take cover when Oswald attacked, and if collectors are knocked out, Lincoln could have just enough time to remove their dargon before the liberators appeared.”

  “Liberators?”

  She motions toward Kraven, Blue, and Valery. “The three of them could get the jackrabbits while you snatch the old man.”

  “I resent that,” Oswald says, “but I like where this is headed.”

  “We can’t all go,” I say. “Someone would need to be here to protect you two.”

  Charlie grimaces. “Protect us?”

  My head drops to one side, imploring her to understand. “You’ve only been a liberator for two days, Charlie. And you and Aspen have been through hell, literally. I know you think you’re strong enough to—”

  “You have no idea what we’re strong enough for,” Aspen whispers. “Something happened when we were down there. When we were together.”

  “Aspen!” Charlie glares at her friend like she shouldn’t say another word.

  Kraven runs a hand through his hair, nervously. “What’s she talking about? What happened?”

  “We awoke,” Aspen says. “That’s all.”

  I’m staring at Charlie. She’s staring at me. “You awoke?”

  “It’s a good idea,” Oswald says. “The part about carrying me back. I trust Dante.”

  I tear my gaze away from Charlie and look to Oswald. My heart grows three sizes. “You do?”

  He pounds a cane-like tree branch into the snow. This means yes, I think.

  “We have a plan,” Kraven says.

  “We start small and gradually get more aggressive as their numbers dwindle.” Charlie touches a hand to her crown of twigs.

  Her fingers are still fluttering there—an unconscious gesture—when the trumpet sounds.

  50

  You Are Loved

  Aspen begins calling orders. “Charlie, by my side. Kraven and Dante, I want one of you on either side. Jackrabbits, line up directly behind us. Humans will remain here as we analyze the situation. Valery, Max, Blue, Oswald, Annabelle, and the sisters, you will stay with the humans. If you hear a second trumpeting, charge the battlefield, half to one side, half to the other.”

  In a flash, we are positioned exactly as Aspen instructed. There’s no time to argue about who the leader is. The way Aspen speaks, it’s like no one can imagine anyone being in charge besides her.

  We’re about to move out when Charlie turns and looks at the humans and the remaining liberators. “Do not be afraid. In war, the unexpected is expected.”

  Her words are firm, reassuring. Relief floods the humans’ faces as they huddle together, seeking the weapons they fled the field with. It’s then that I realize how perfectly balanced the two girls are. One calls for action, the other calms the troops. We can’t lose with Charlie and Aspen at our helm, even against countless sirens.

  I glance back at Max and a silent acknowledgment passes between us. Blue is already instructing the humans, so he doesn’t see me watching him. I’m proud that he’s my friend. I hope he knows that.

  We race through the forest, weaving between spindly trees. When we reach the edge of the Lion’s Hand, we hunch over and hurry through the field. About halfway across, I stop short. Aspen and Charlie stand up. The rest of us do, too. We all see what the collectors want us to see.

  Patrick has Lincoln’s head between his hands. Zack and Kincaid stand on either side of him, holding the other jackrabbits’ heads in their hands as well. One of the jackrabbits still clutches the trumpet. I wonder if the collectors encouraged him to blow it.

  “One movement,” Patrick roars, “and they’re dead.”

  “Don’t hurt them!” Polo yells from behind me.

 
; “Quiet,” Kraven says coolly. “It’s not them they want.”

  My heart hammers in my chest. We were so stupid sending the jackrabbits to do our bidding. We should never have involved humans. That’s the collectors’ style, not ours. But then I think back to what Charlie said. War is messy. The unexpected happens.

  I take a deep breath and remember it’s the long game that matters. I remember who I am, the confidence I harbor. They’re threatening to kill my friend and I already watched Charlie die, but I’ve got the confidence of a tornado. And my name, as it so happens, is Dante Fucking Walker.

  I fill my lungs. “Tell us what it is you want.”

  Patrick laughs. I’m going to pull the tongue from his mouth. I may eat it, too, A-1 sauce and all. “We want the girls. Send the rose first.”

  The rose. Bile burns my throat remembering Rector’s nickname for Aspen. “I have a better idea. The two of us. One on one.”

  Aspen squares her shoulders. She’s trying to act confident, but I can see the way she shakes. “You’ll kill him the moment you have me.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  Charlie is about to call out, when suddenly we’re surrounded. Twenty sirens appear from the tall grass in near silence. The jackrabbits could learn a thing or two from their approach.

  Immediately, the wings explode from my back. Kraven’s do as well. Along with the jackrabbits, we push Aspen and Charlie between us, shielding them with our bodies. It was a mistake to come here without the others. We need Oswald. We need every liberator and human we have. I know why we didn’t bring them all, but now I feel sure it was a mistake.

  Night hangs over us, intrusive, blinding. The sirens move through the grass, and in one fluid movement, the girls break through our protective barrier. Aspen pulls her arm back. I don’t know what she’s doing but a siren is charging toward her with a blade and she’s going to be killed.

  I take flight, pulse pounding, head throbbing. I can’t watch her die, too.

  Aspen’s right arm pulls back farther, farther. Her left arm stays straight ahead like she’s pointing at the siren.

  You!

  Charlie is a step behind her, whispering quiet words.

  Kraven takes flight beside me, and then I see it. A green pulsing light extends from Aspen’s left hand all the way back to her cocked right hand. As I watch, the light sharpens at the tip. It’s almost like she’s holding a—

  A neon green arrow soars through the space, appearing from an invisible bow between Aspen’s hands as if by magic. It drives straight through a siren. The guy is thrown back, and the other sirens scatter. Now that they’ve seen what Oswald can do, they want no part of the green light.

  Charlie rushes toward the fallen siren, and I fly after her, calling for her to fall back. She drops to her knees beside the siren. The guy gasps for air as the arrow in his chest slowly dissolves. There’s no blood, but the siren is clearly in pain.

  I touch down beside Charlie. “Get away from him.”

  Big surprise, she ignores me.

  Instead, she lays her palms upon his chest and closes her eyes. Energy explodes from her hands like paddles on a heart attack patient. The siren’s back arches and his teeth clench down. No one makes a move as his body shakes and then quiets. When the siren opens his eyes, there are tears in them. He grasps at her wrists, her forearms, anywhere he can touch her.

  Charlie lowers her head and says something that makes my chest constrict. “You are forgiven. You are loved.”

  The siren weeps openly.

  “Come and join us,” she says, “And we will call you family.”

  The siren gets to his feet, trembling, and Aspen looses two more arrows into the backs of fleeing sirens. Others dash away, out of her aim. But one, one stands with arms open, as if he’s waited for this moment.

  “Charlie…” Aspen lowers her arms and the green light snuffs out.

  Charlie sees the siren that didn’t flee and heads toward him.

  Kraven has touched down and is inspecting the three collectors in the distance. They appear terrified, and I know why. Our darkness is something we relish. As much as it hurts to hate ourselves, to work for the embodiment of evil, it’s easier than facing the things we’ve done. So when Aspen turns on the collectors and fires toward them, Zack lets go of the jackrabbit he’s holding. They may not understand completely what it is Charlie is doing out here, but they see that something has changed in the two sirens standing nearby.

  An arrow pierces Kincaid’s thigh and he screeches. Not out of pain, but out of shock. His cry is enough to make Patrick release Lincoln. The three jackrabbits race across the field, and Aspen continues to shoot flaming arrows produced from thin air.

  Following her lead, I attack. I launch toward Patrick, and feel the beat of Kraven’s wings behind me. I’m almost to the collector when I see humans advancing from the shadows. I figured the sirens were at a campsite hidden in the forest. But they’re here. All of them. Among them is the one with the black magic, Easton, and his brother, Salem. Easton wields the power cloud above his head, waiting for the right moment to strike. Patrick raises his arm above his head, and then waves it forward.

  They attack.

  I stop midflight and soar toward Lincoln, who has made it to Aspen’s side.

  “Do you have the trumpet?” I yell.

  Lincoln motions to one of his friends and they search the ground. They find it. They bring it to their lips. They blow and a sharp, urgent sound fills the air. As the sirens rush toward us, the jackrabbit drops the trumpet into the tall grass. It may very well be the last time we hear the instrument’s invocation.

  The sirens slam into us. I fight them with renewed vigor. I fight them with fury. They helped murder Charlie, even if it did fulfill her destiny, and I want retribution. I grab a siren by the middle and slam him to the ground. He tears at my eyes, but I beat my fists into his face until he blacks out.

  Charlie offers forgiveness.

  I offer penance.

  Two sirens leap onto my back, and I fly into the air. The sirens stop fighting and instead hold onto me for dear life.

  “This is the last moment of your life,” I say, because I want them to know.

  I spin in tight circles until their fingers peel from my skin and their bodies drop like atomic bombs toward the earth. Watching them fall gives me an idea, so I swoop back down and grab another siren. I fly into the sky and drop him, too. They die quickly, one after the other. But it’s like there’s no end to their numbers. Kraven sees what I’m doing and he follows my lead.

  Below, the humans and remaining jackrabbits storm the Lion’s Hand. Valery, Max, and Blue run before them, a warrior cry tearing from their throats. The humans carry weapons, and the jackrabbits do, too. They clash with the sirens and battle fiercely.

  Oswald is surrounded on both sides by the Patrelli sisters. Sirens charge toward them, and then something happens. Their bodies fly backward as if hitting an invisible force field. It isn’t Oswald’s doing. It’s the sisters’. That’s how Oswald managed to get inside the circle of sirens two days ago without being hurt. That’s how the sisters weren’t harmed. This even explains why Kraven thought they could guard the weapon room. They have an ability, too, though I suspect they’ll tire soon enough, especially since the siren with the black, dancing cloud is headed their way.

  It feels like I’ve been fighting for an eternity when I touch back down to search for Charlie. When I find her, I can hardly believe my eyes. She’s surrounded by sirens. At first I believe she’s in danger, but when I look closer I realize that’s not it at all. Though most of them are confused and scared, they seem to be guarding her against their previous adversaries.

  She’s truly changed them. She somehow brought their souls back into their bodies, and now they don’t want to leave her presence. I want to turn away from this strategy. To be merciless sounds much better. But even I can’t deny how effective this could be. I’m trying to kill sirens one at a time, while she’s
turning them into soldiers.

  My optimism raises as Aspen strikes arrows through sirens’ hearts and Charlie revives them. I can practically see the white light of their souls streaking from the ground, through the soles of their feet, slamming square into their chests. Heads fallen back, mouths open.

  Forgiveness.

  Change.

  I grab the next siren I see. Not because I care, but because this is the way to victory. I toss the guy more roughly than necessary at Aspen’s feet. She glances up and grins. She salutes me. I salute her right back. Then I fly through the air and find Valery, Blue, Max, and Kraven. I tell them what to do. Move the sirens toward the girls.

  I point toward Charlie and Aspen to drive my point home, and my heart stops beating. The veins in my body collapse. The two girls—the savior and the soldier—stand shoulder to shoulder, their hands clasped. Their hair flies wildly around their heads. They walk, ever slowly, through the mass of sirens, claiming them as their own. They look like the princesses we claim they are. They look lethal, unbeatable.

  That’s the moment I believe her.

  Charlie doesn’t need my protection.

  She only needs me to be her partner. And so I will be. With a roar ripping through me, I sail toward Patrick. As I fly, I call to Lincoln.

  “Knife,” I yell. “Knife!”

  Lincoln steals a blade from a jackrabbit and tosses it into the air. Perfect throw, Goth kid. I catch it smooth and fly hard. Then I slam into Patrick with the force of a tidal wave. He won’t walk away from this fight. Not when we’re winning this war, not when I feel inexorable. He hits me once in the stomach. I don’t feel it. I’m above pain. I clock him across the jaw so that his whole body spins like a Tilt-A-Whirl. He hits the ground and I land on his back. Tossing the knife, I catch the hilt and slam it into the back of his skull. He’s out.

  Ripping his pant leg up, I search for his dargon. I’ll take it the same way Lincoln did Anthony’s, but without a morsel of regret. I search his left ankle, his right.

  It’s gone.

  He’s not wearing dargon. I sit back, flabbergasted. I don’t even have time to think on what this means.