New Bloods Boxset

by Michelle Bryan

  Is he saying that blob is a building? If this is true, then it’s the most peculiar looking building I’ve ever seen. It looks like a giant, mountain-sized broth bowl that has been turned upside down. And there are screaming people inside of it. Is it some sort of torture place?

  "Sadly, there must be mutant games happening this evening."

  Mutant games. Where have I heard that before? Suddenly, Lily's tale of the Prezedant's "games" enters my head. What had she said? That they are fights to the death between captured muties. The winner of the fight is then forced to take the loser's life or else die anyways by having a wild wolfling let loose on 'em to rip 'em both apart. All done in the name of entertainment for the Prezedant and his elite.

  I look at Jax in dawning horror, and his wide-eyed look of revulsion tells me that he, too, remembers Lily's tale all too well. The roar becomes one distinct word now, and the chanting raises the hackles on the back of my neck.

  "KILL! KILL! KILL!"

  This chanting is followed by a haunting scream that echoes in my ears and vibrates in my bones. A scream filled with so much emotion: pain, fear, disbelief. It seems to stretch out forever, and I wanna raise my hands to cover my ears, but Finn huddling against my arm prevents me from doing so. Finally, when I think I cain't take it anymore, the scream stops and the resounding silence is quickly filled again by cheers and shouts of glee. They’re cheering. Someone, some poor mutie has just met their agonizing end, and these people are cheering? What the hell is this? I find myself shaking at what we’d just overheard, yet so thankful that I hadn't witnessed it with my own eyes.

  "It's okay," I say to Finn, comforting him as he cries, his soft heart scarred by this new horror. "It's over now."

  My attempt to comfort the boy belies the unease in my heart. Not for the first time, an understanding of what the rebels are trying to do bounces ‘round my head. My earlier words of "Ain't my fight" don't seem to have as much truth to 'em anymore. It scares me something fierce. All I know is the faster I find Ben and Jane and Thomas and get away from all of this, the better.

  5

  The Invitation

  "Miss … miss, wake up." The voice is soft and delicate, but at this moment sounds like an annoying maskeeto buzzing in my ear. I don't wanna wake up. I was having a glorious dream, one where Ben and Grada and everybody else who was ever taken from me were all still alive and well, and we were all together.

  "Go away," I say crossly and turn over on my divinely soft pillow. I love this pillow. I love this bed. It’s so comfy and cozy, and I snuggle in deeper ready to fall back into my slumber.

  "Miss, the Master is asking for you. The morning is almost done," the voice says.

  I roll onto my back and stare at the startling white ceiling. The master? Oh yeah, she means Mack. It’s so weird hearing him referred to as "the master." But here in Skytown, in this grand house that he called his home, it’s how he’s known.

  I sigh in resignation and look up into the kind face of Coral, my "handmaiden." Her word, not mine. I sure as hell don't reckon I need any handmaiden. Her job, she says, is to help me with my morning "ceremonials." I ain't quite sure what that normally consisted of, but my first morning here when she’d tried to get me get outta my dirty tunic, I’d almost laid her out flat on her back. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out why this strange woman was in my room and trying to undress me. But in between my struggling to keep my tunic on and her trying to yank it off, I’d come to the understanding that she was actually here to help me wash and dress. Help me wash and dress. Apparently, that's what they did here in Skytown. Who the hell needs help washing and dressing unless you’re ill? And help with using the inside privy. Who needs help with that? What a strange custom. She’d finally conceded to let me relieve myself and bathe in private, but then she had still tried to dress me and in a frilly frock no less. Refusing to do anything of the sort, I had gotten back into my filthy tunic and trousers much to Coral's dismay. That argument had ended with Mack's intervening and quickly bringing in a seamstress to dress me appropriately.

  It’s a strange sort of style, I must say. The torso of what she’d produced is very similar to a jacket with a high collar and long sleeves and fitted with so many shiny buttons that don’t do nuthin’ it don’t make sense. The bottom half of the jacket is split so that the material hung over my arse and hips like a long cloak and cut off at the front of my waist so that you could see the matching trousers underneath. The new leather boots provided to me are good quality I can tell, but they ain't in no way as comfortable as my own worn pair, and they pinch my feet something fierce. But according to Coral, what I’m wearing is "all the rage" and that if I’m to be believable as any kin of Mack's, I had to play the part. I guess it ain't all bad. Finn looks a hell of a lot more uncomfortable in the stiff new trousers and shirt they’d forced him into.

  "Is everyone already finished breakfast?" I ask, as I sit up, giving in to her demand. If Mack is asking for me, Coral ain't gonna go away 'til I do so. She nods, her graying head bobbing up and down.

  "Ages ago. The boy and the beast are now outside in the covered gardens."

  I don't panic anymore at the thought of Finn and Cat being outside without me for I know they’re well under the watchful eyes of Beanie and Talbert. Ever since the run-in with the scorpi-ants, they watch over the boy like two mamas with a cub. Well, at least while he’s outside. They’d set up camp in Mack's gated back garden, refusing to even think about staying inside. They said it reminded them of their confinement here in Skytown years ago. I sure ain't gonna argue it with 'em. It’s nice not having them around watching my every move.

  "And the Master is in the training room," Coral continues, wringing her hands nervously. "He says you are to forgo breakfast since you’ve been too idle to join them earlier and go to the training room immediately."

  She has the decency to look a little chagrined at relaying that message to me, and I almost argue the point 'til I see her pull a couple of bread rolls outta her apron pocket.

  "So I brought you these."

  May the gods grant her three wishes. Maybe she ain't so annoying after all. I eagerly grab the rolls and take a bite, muttering a thank you around the hunk of bread in my mouth.

  "Jax and Tater?" I mumble, but she understands.

  "Ah, yes, the handsome devil," she says with an arched brow, and I stare at her in confusion. Why is she looking at me like that? Put that furry brow down, woman, before I rip it offa your forehead.

  "He is to be found in the shooting gallery," she says.

  Typical. Ever since Jax had found out Mack had an underground shooting area, it’s where he spent most of his waking hours.

  "The imp? He was sent out very early this morning by the Master after a visit from one of the Prezedant's aides."

  Now that captures my attention. Abandoning the bread, I bound outta bed and quickly pull on my old tunic and trousers, thankful they’d been returned to me after being cleaned. If I’m meeting Mack in the training room, then I cain't be dressing all fancy-like. Don't bother me none, but I'm eager to know who his visitor was this morning. Since we had arrived in Skytown, Mack has had his feelers out, looking for any sign of Ben. There was no sign of him at the prisoners' compound or at the iron mines outside of the city limits. Wherever the Prezedant was holding him, it wasn't the typical places. Maybe the visitor this morning had been one of Mack's spies with some news on his whereabouts.

  I ignore Coral's frantic fussing and bolt outta the room with her shouts of, "Please, Miss, let me do your hair at least," falling on deaf ears. I run through the gigantic hallway, down the winding, perfectly polished stairwell, down another hall, and practically fall through the door of what we’re using as our training room. Mack looks up in surprise at my noisy entrance, the long, skinny blade he’s using to attack the stuffed dummy, stilling. I don't bother with any pleasantries.

  "Coral said … you had … a visitor," I gasp out, trying to catch my breath.

&nb
sp; He then turns his attention back to the dummy and starts attacking it again with precise strokes of the blade.

  "Do you know how to tell time?" he asks, totally ignoring my earlier remark. I stare at him in confusion.

  "Huh?"

  "It's a simple enough question. Do you know how to tell time? Like when I say breakfast is at eight hours and training starts at nine hours, do you understand what that implies?" he says like he’s talking to an idiot.

  "Aye, I know what that means. I ain't a simpleton," I answer curtly.

  "So explain to me then why it is now ten hours and you are just showing up for your training? Do you not care to learn how to defeat the Prezedant? Or does saving Ben not matter as much as your beauty sleep? Because if you do not care for our cause, then don’t waste any more of my time."

  I ain't prepared for the attack, and I blink at the harshness of his tone.

  "Of course I care," I sputter finally. "Why would you say such a thing to me?"

  He stops his attack and turns to glare at me, and for a moment I feel like I should run 'cause I fear that blade is gonna come straight for my own heart.

  "We don't have any more time to waste, girl. Now, I need to know if you’re in this game plan of ours wholeheartedly or not. If this training is to continue, are you with us to the end? Can we depend on you to help us finish this? Or are you just in this for your own selfish reasons?"

  I ain't got any idea why Mack is acting this way, but he is pissing me off to no end.

  "I'm here 'til the end. I said so, didn't I?" I snap, but my answer don't seem to please him any. He just narrows his good eye at me some more.

  "Prove it," he says quietly.

  "Huh?" I say again.

  "Prove it. Bring forth your Chi. Attack me."

  "Mack, what—?"

  "Do it!" he roars and lunges at me, slamming me into the wall, his blade against my throat. My hands move instinctively trying to get the steel offa my neck, but he has the strength of ten men. I cain't budge him.

  "Mack!" I croak, unable to breathe and shocked at his attack, but he don't heed me.

  "Summon your Chi, Tara," he growls again.

  "Please … stop …"

  "Summon it," he yells, his voice almost pleading, and I close my eyes and picture the now familiar flame like I’d done with Finn. I picture it growing brighter, the aura of it flowing through me and wait for the fire to catch. But it don't happen. Nuthin' happens no matter how hard I try. After a couple of minutes, I open my eyes to Mack's almost frantic face.

  "Summon your Chi, gods dammit," he demands again, and I wanna cringe away from the fierceness in his glare.

  "I cain't," I whisper, afraid for what he’ll now do. He don't react like I’m fearing though. Almost in slow motion, his arm and blade drops away from me, and his shoulders slump in defeat. Watching him deflate like that, seeing his disappointment, well, it feels far worse than facing his anger.

  "You are nowhere near ready," he whispers, not to me I don't think, but to himself. "I had so hoped … after seeing you awaken your Chi to heal the boy …"

  His crestfallen face crushes me. Why is he acting this way? Why is my ability to summon my Chi so important today of all days? But he don't give me no chance to ask any questions.

  "Leave me," he says.

  I don't wanna leave. I have so many questions. Who was his visitor this morning? Was there information about Ben? Why was he acting like some giant mule turd?

  "Mack," I say, but he cuts me off.

  "I said leave!" he roars at me, and I nearly jump from my skin.

  Shizen, he’s pricklier than spiked wire this morning. I back outta the room and close the door quietly behind me and look around in confusion. What the hell just happened? Where had all that anger come from, just 'cause I was late? I take a mental note never to be late again.

  There ain't no reason for him to act that way. I never did nuthin' to him to be treated like that. The more I stand there thinking about it, the more it starts to piss me off. I turn to go back in, but Mack's angry whacks start on the practice dummy again, and the enraged roar coming from the other side of the door makes me drop my hand from the door handle. Maybe this ain't such a good time. Another roar reaches my ears. Aye, I’ll wait. I turn on my heels and head for the lower levels of the house where the shooting area is. Maybe Jax had been ‘round this morning, and he has some idea on who this visitor was. And maybe a little shooting of my own would help me let off some of my steam.

  I can hear the iron shooter long before I get there. Jax is in fine form this morning. But as I slowly enter the room so as not to startle him, I spot Jax off to the side. His back is to me as he lounges in a chair, his feet propped up on some crates, and his chair tipped precariously back on two legs. What the—? If Jax is sitting down, then who’s doing the shooting? I slip in as quiet as a mouse and stop suddenly as I recognize the shooter. Finn. Jax is letting Finn use an iron shooter? The boy can barely walk and talk at the same time.

  Has he gone completely mad? Furious at Jax for letting the boy do such a stupid thing, I storm up to his unsuspecting back and kick at one of the weight-bearing chair legs, and he scrambles to catch his balance before he topples over.

  "Shizen, Tara. What the hell was that for? I could have broken my neck," he sputters as he leaps to his feet. Finn stops shooting, now aware of my angry entrance. I can see the excitement mixed with guilt written all over his face at being caught red handed, and it prickles at my anger. I stride over to him, yank the warm piece of metal outta his hand, and ignore his indignant "Hey!" as I march back to Jax.

  "Have you lost your mind?" I hiss at Jax, even though I wanna scream at him instead. "Why the hell is Finn usin' this shooter?" I shake the butt in his face. "Do you want him to lose a finger or a foot or even worse, his life? He ain't got no reason to be usin' an iron shooter. He ain't been trained to do so. Why would you be as daft as to let him have one? Woulda served you right if he’d shot you by mistake."

  "Calm down, you little spitfire," he says, laughing as he pulls the shooter outta my hand. "And give me that. I think it's more dangerous in your hands at this moment than the boy's."

  His laughter at my expense just serves to irritate me even more.

  "I told ya she’d be mad, Jax." Finn says matter-of-factly and Jax nods.

  "Right you are, my boy. But she doesn't know how good you are, does she? She's never seen you shoot. Why don't you show her?"

  Finn nods at this suggestion and runs over, raring to go at Jax's words. He takes the shooter against my protests, and readily positions himself in this exaggerated shooting stance while Jax replaces the old target piece with a new one. Peering all squint-eyed at the target’s red circle, he takes aim. Cat, who’d been lounging in the furthest corner of the stone room, hunches back down and tries to make herself as small as possible. I kinda want to do the same. Why ain't I stopping this? I think just as Finn lets go at the target in rapid-fire succession. Six deafening shots, but the following silence almost hurts my ears even more. I have to stop myself from running my hands over my body to make sure I ain't hit. Finn don't seem to notice though; he's looking at the smoking shooter in his hand with smug satisfaction. It kinda reminds me of Jax. Scary.

  I study the target. Did Finn really do that? I tilt my head in question at the boy, and he nods at me that he’s done shooting. I head for the target thinking my eyes must deceive me, but nope, the little stink turd had done it. He’d hit the target all six times, and four of 'em are even within the inner circle. What the hell? Not that long ago, he didn't even know what an iron shooter was. How did he get so good?

  "Jax's been teachin' me," he says, beaming that goofy grin and answering my unspoken question. "All the while you been trainin' with Mack, Jax's been teachin' me how to shoot. He says he's gonna try and get me a shooter of my own, one my own size. It's good, right? It's good 'cause the next time I get attacked by scorpi-ants or any other creature, I can protect myself."

  I don'
t quite know what to say. A boy Finn's age should be more concerned about swimming and fishing and playing than learning to protect himself. So no, as far as I'm concerned, it's not a good thing at all. But this is the first time since he was attacked that I’ve seen him so happy. He’s almost back to the old Finn again, so I just nod at him, and it seems to please him.

  "Finn, why don't you and Cat go play in the back gardens for a bit? I think that's enough training for today. We don't want to overdo it. Just make sure Cat doesn't go around to the front of the house; we don't want her being seen," Jax says.

  The boy answers with a simple “Sure,” at Jax's command and lays the shooter on the crate with the utmost of respect before scampering off, Cat on his heels.

  Jax starts speaking as soon as Finn disappears from sight. "Now, before you say anything—"

  "No, it's alright. I understand what you're tryin' to do," I say, and he just stares at me, mouth agape. "And for gods’ sake, shut your trap. You look like your tryin' to catch maskeetos."

  He ignores my biting remark.

  "Wait … what? You're not gonna rip my head off for training Finn how to shoot?" He narrows his eyes at me suspiciously. "Who are you, and what have you done with the real Tara?"

  I don't take the bait. "No, truly, it's okay. I haven't seen Finn this content in a while. It's good to see him smile again. You did a good thing, Jax."

  He studies me a bit more in silence.

  "Okay, see, it's kinda hard to believe you're fine with it when you still look like you're gonna spit fire at any moment and roast me alive. So if it's not Finn, what is it?"

  I shrug at him. "Nuthin' truly—"

  "Don't lie to me, Tara. I'm an expert when it comes to your moods. You only have two: pissed and more pissed. And right now, you’re the latter. What's going on?"

  "It's-I don't know," I say, running a hand over my face. "Something ain't right with Mack. I went to our trainin' session as normal, but he was so angry at me. He was demandin' that I summon my Chi, and when I couldn't, he got so frustrated with me. Like I disappointed him to no end. And I ain't got no idea why it’s so important to him 'cause when I tried to ask, he yelled at me to leave him be. Coral said he had a visitor this mornin'. You know anything 'bout that?"