Then I see the reason for my release.
Lily has somehow managed to get close enough to him to wrap the chain hanging from her own neck around his and is pulling on it with all of her might, distracting him from searching for me.
Lily, what are you doin'? I think, my fear for her outweighing any for myself. I watch in horror as the chain snaps offa her neck, and she flies across the room to crash into one of the massive golden statues, like an empty tater sack blowing in the wind. It happens so fast, like time has somehow been sped up. I hear the sickening crack as she hits, and then watch helplessly as she slides down and crumples at the base of the statue, leaving behind a trail of blood.
9
The Prisoner
I don't scream. I don't cry. I don't react in any manner, even though my heart feels like it’s being ripped apart by a thousand sharp claws. I know remaining calm is the right thing to do, but I wouldn’t be able to do anything anyway. I’m numb. But while the rest of me is frozen, my brain is in overdrive. I cain’t react. I know that. To show any reaction would be to give myself away, and that's what he’s waiting for. Jax comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, and I’m thankful for his solid body against my back, keeping me upright.
I cain't take my eyes offa Lily. I don't wanna look at her crumpled body lying there, but I'm scared to look anyplace else. Someone may see the hatred and grief in my eyes right now. It would be a dead giveaway. I suck in air through my nose, trying to control my panicked breaths.
"Well, I did tell you it would be an unforgettable night, did I not?" the Prezedant sounds amused, but the humor is forced. He is trying to cover his exasperation. He couldn't find me. Lily had distracted him enough so that he couldn't find me. She had saved me yet again, and I’d done nuthin' to save her.
Jax and I force out our own laughter along with his silver-spack-hyped followers, but mine is just a hollow echo of grief and self-loathing. Why didn't I do something to save her? I’m useless.
The Prezedant waves a careless hand towards Lily's body, and three soldiers jump to attention and whisk her away. Her head lolls to the side as they lift her, and I swear her lifeless eyes stare at me with such accusation. "Another one dead because of you," she seems to say, and I can feel the grief and guilt welling up in my chest. I swallow hard to keep it from spilling out. There ain't no time for grieving now; it's gonna have to wait for later.
"A little bit of excitement to add to the night, eh?" He smiles at his followers, and they continue to laugh along with him, but I can see that the little pink vials are being picked offa the trays more quickly now, like they’re all trying to subdue their fear with the medicinal.
"A little intro for the games coming up shortly. I couldn't have planned that any better if I had tried. But while we wait, let's hear a story, shall we? Imp!" he bellows and gives a single clap, causing Tater to step outta line from the group of entertainers in fronta his elevated stage. I can see his pale, blood-drained face, but his voice is as strong as always, belying his shock.
"Thank you, gracious Lord." He bows to the Prezedant. "And thank you all fine folk of Skytown. It is a great honor and privilege to be here." He bows to the congregation.
"Tonight's story is one for the ages. A tale of grand adventure, magic, and monsters. Tonight, I will chronicle for you the tale of Sinbad and the Seven Lands!"
That’s it. That’s our signal that everything is a go. Tater had accomplished his mission; now, it’s up to us. Jax's hand finds mine in the folds of my dress and gives it a tight squeeze. I sense Mack approach me from behind.
"We are calling it off," he whispers in my ear, and I shake my head . "You are to leave now, Tara," he hisses, and I step away from him.
There ain't no way I'm backing out now. Lily deserved a lot more from me than that.
"Tara, Tara," he whispers urgently at my back but falls silent when a couple of soldiers move our way.
"Captain Mackenzie?" One says. "The Prezedant requests your presence immediately."
"May I ask why?" Mack says with bored indifference, but I hear the concern underlining his words.
"Don't know, sir, but he is requesting all top aides to join him in the morning room ASAP. Come with us please, sir."
He lets them lead him away, not daring to say another word to me, but his one eye burns fiercely into mine, practically shouting at me to leave. Sorry, Mack. Ain't no way in hell that's gonna happen.
We watch the procession as they leave. I take a little comfort in seeing it’s not just Mack whose presence is required but many other guests as well. At least suspicion doesn't fall on just Mack alone. I can hear Tater's voice droning in the background, but the words are all jumbled and don't make any sense. The only thing I can focus on right now is the blood-spattered statue and my inner rage, taking up any space where grief shoulda been.
Time seems to have no meaning for me. I guess Tater tells his story, but nuthin' registers. I don't hear a word of it. I ain't even realized Tater's story is at an end 'til Jax starts whispering in my ear.
"Tara, the sparring is about to begin. This is it, now or never. Are you up to it? Mack and the others, they're not back yet. The plan is going to hell. Maybe we should call it off."
"No," I whisper loudly, drawing the attention of a few people around us. I wait 'til their eyes turn elsewhere. "We’re doin' this. Let's go."
Without waiting for Jax, I head for the huge double doors the Prezedant had come through earlier, picking a glass of golden liquid offa a tray as I pass by a young'un. It’s now or never.
There are a couple of guards standing watch on the other side of the massive doors, and they study us with suspicion, but Jax pulls me close, and I giggle loudly and pretend to stumble as I snuggle into his side.
"A little help here, boys. Couldn't tell me where I can find a quiet corner? A place with no interruptions if you know what I mean."
He winks at one of the guards, who smiles broadly as I stumble his way and push my chest up at him. The other stares back, stone-faced.
"You shouldn't be in here," he says and motions to the solid doors closing behind us. "Go back. There's plenty of rooms at the front of the estate. These are private quarters and off limits."
"Come on, friend," Jax cajoles the serious one as I totter into the grinning guard and tickle his chin playfully.
"You're cute," I slur, pointing my glass at him before I take a sip and then pretend to sway a little like I’m about to fall over. The guard laughs and catches me.
"I think you've had enough of this," he says as he pulls the glass from my hand, and I pout at him.
"Just asking for a little privacy. Maybe this will help." Jax pulls two coins outta his pocket and tosses 'em at the scowling guard, who manages to catch 'em both in one swoop. "Besides, there's a little something back there I don't wanna run into … namely the lady's jealous husband. Just a little private time is all I'm asking for, friends. Trust me; I won't need long with her."
This finally manages to make flinty crack a smile. He throws a coin to his friend, pockets the other, and gives a quick nod with his head.
"Just around the corner, there is a curtained alcove—should give ya the privacy you're looking for to do what you want. But don't take all night. And if the missus tends to pass out during your … ministrations, come get us. We don't mind taking turns. This one looks like she'd be worth it."
The guard reaches over and pinches my breast through the thin material, and my fist comes up ready to smash that leer from his face before I can even consider how wise that would be. Jax catches it; however, and raises my hand to his lips, stopping my show of temper before it becomes a problem.
"I promise, mate," he grins and yanks me away before I can do anything to blow our little ruse.
We walk slowly through the hallway with me slouched all over Jax 'til we ‘round the corner and out of their view. Immediately, I stand up straight and start looking around.
"There," I say as I ignore the numerous oth
er doors lining the long corridor and point to the other set of double doors at the furthest end. Just like our informant had said. The double doors were where we needed to go.
I’m about to head in their direction when Jax pulls me off-balance and into the curtained alcove the guards had mentioned earlier. He literally pushes me through the draped entrance of the little niche, and I fall onto the softly padded lounger that takes up most of the space.
"What the hell—" I begin, but he quiets my protest as his lips cover mine. "Jax," I try to say, but he kisses me even harder, silencing me.
I’m stupefied and non-responsive. What does he think he’s doing? My outraged shock is quickly forgotten as his kiss softens, and his lips coax mine into surrender. The hands that were planted flat on his chest to push him away now curl into his jacket, trying to pull him closer. His lips probe and explore mine, pushing every other thought outta my head. I don't know what brought this on, but the kiss feels so damn good. Shizen, is that his tongue? The root of some unknown emotion blazes in the pit of my stomach and fans out like wildfire throughout my body. The heat is so intense I fear I may just melt into the lounger underneath me. Even my Chi has never felt like such lava flowing through my blood. After what seems like a lifetime, he finally pulls away, and I can hear the little sounds of protest in the back of my throat. My lips suddenly feel too bare. Come back, I think desperately.
"We have an audience," he whispers, and at first it don't make one lick of sense in my head.
Who the hell cares if the Prezedant himself is watching? Do it again.
"A little privacy please, friend, and there will be more coin involved for you after." He turns his head slightly, and I finally see the beady eyes peering through the curtain, watching our every move. Watching our kiss. I hear the low chuckle of the one or possibly two guards as they walk away. So that's what this is all about? He did this because he knew they would follow us? I feel mortified. Utterly and truly humiliated at the way I responded to the kiss that was just a ploy for Jax. An act to convince the guards we were only what we appeared to be: a lusty couple looking for a secret spot for our dalliance.
"I think they're gone," he whispers.
Along with my self-respect, I think, but I don't say nuthin'. I'm just real glad the alcove is barely lit, and I’m still wearing my mask so he cain't see the heat flooding my cheeks.
"Do you still hear them?" he asks, and I shake my head no since all I can truly hear is the beating of my own frantic heart. He stands and peers through the curtain. "Aye, they're gone. Let's move."
Gladly. Now if only I’m able to stand on my wobbly legs, then all will be fine.
I hurry down the corridor ahead of Jax, not wanting to make eye contact with him right now. I'm still too shaken. I'm the first to reach the double doors. They open with a loud creak, and I suck in my breath, but no one appears. Stepping inside, we find ourselves on a small landing at the top of a flight of stairs. And not the fancy, lit-up kind that we’d walked up earlier to get into the palace. No, these are metal, rusted in places, and old looking. The whole stairwell looks abandoned, like it’s a leftover relic from years ago. It don't fit in with the rest of the grand building. We look at each other in question, but since there ain't no other way to go but down, that's what we do.
At the bottom of the two flights of stairs, hidden in the back of the stairwell, we find the paper-wrapped costumes like expected. Mack's man had delivered. We also find another door, metal like the stairs, but with a little glass window in the corner of it. Jax peers through the window and then quickly jumps back.
"Army," he mouths at me, and we flatten ourselves on either side of the door. I reach under my numerous folds of material and pull the knives from my thighs, tossing one to Jax. He deftly catches it but raises an eyebrow at my method. I shrug and twirl the knife in my hand, holding it blade down. Breathlessly, we wait for the confrontation. And wait. What the hell? Maybe they didn't see Jax. Finally, I cain't wait no more, and I peer through the door myself. I see the two guards sitting at a crude table with what appears to be food dishes in fronta 'em. As I watch, one of 'em falls from his chair and hits the floor face-first, surely causing his nose to break. But he don't move a muscle. They’re out cold. Or dead. Either way, Tater's nightweed had done the trick.
Nodding at Jax, I open the door and cautiously enter this room, watching for any sign of movement and listening for any telltale footsteps of other guards.
"Looks clear," Jax says into my ear, and I nearly jump outta my skin.
"Shizen, Jax, I can see that for myself," I snap, but he ignores me and heads for the guard stretched out on the floor. While he searches for the keys, I look around the room. It ain't nuthin' really but a square, windowless box. A gray, colorless room with the only pieces of furniture being the table and two chairs the guards had been sitting at. Quite a contrast to the luxury we had just witnessed two floors above us. Obviously, this ain't a place the gold-loving Prezedant spent a lot of his time.
There are two other doors in the room besides the one we’d entered through, so I choose the one with the big, glass window first. I peer through cautiously, but there are no guards inside that I can see. It’s full of stuff though. No idea what it could all be used for. I see a couple of beds looks like, but they seem to be on wheels. Strange. Numerous steel poles line the sides of the beds, and they have see-through bags hanging offa 'em. Some of the bags appear to be full of liquid while others look empty. In the middle of the room stands a long, metal table covered with needles and blades and other shite. Things I ain't got no name for. Even though the room is empty of life, it gives me the heebie jeebies, and a cold shiver passes over me. I eagerly turn away from the room since it’s not what we’re looking for.
I move my focus to the other door. It, like the rest of the room, is gray, but it has a metallic box sitting directly where the door handle shoulda been. I approach it and give it a hard shove, but like I’m expecting, it don't budge. Locked. I examine the box. It has a slot on the side of it and a couple of lights—one of 'em flashing red right now—but no keyhole. Where is the damned handle and keyhole?
"What's takin' so long with the keys?" I say impatiently, and Jax looks up at me, perplexed.
"They don't have keys on them. Not any that I can find anyways. All I found is this." He holds up a short piece of ribbon with a strange-looking, square card attached to it. "They both have one."
My mind instantly makes the connection to the slot on the side of the metallic box.
"Bring it here," I say, and he does as I ask.
I grab it from him and slide it through the slot on the door. There’s a slight pause, then a loud click as the other light on the box turns green, and the door effortless glides open. Taking a deep breath, we go in.
As soon as we step through, my innards bunch in sickening knots. It ain't the bright lights or overload of undesirable smells that shock us; it’s the sounds. From every angle, we are assaulted with the low moans and unmistakable sobs of agony and pain. They are everywhere, echoing down the long corridor of cells. My feet stick to the floor as the cloud of human despair envelops us. We’d no doubt found the Prezedant's dungeon of horrors that Mack had spoke of.
"Tara, we don't have time to stop." Jax nudges me outta my stupor, and I force myself to walk through the wide aisle, strange, plastic-like walls the only thing separating us from the prisoners inside.
Some of 'em watch our progress with gaunt faces and hollow, vacant stares. Others are so caught up in their own misery they ain't even aware we’re there. Hooked up to more of those bags on poles like I’d seen in the other room, they pay no heed to the two masked people staring in at them. I stop at one of those cells. The woman lying on the cot inside shows no sign of being aware of us. The face pointing our way don't appear to be that old, but it’s gray and ashen, her eyes half closed to her surroundings. Her matted hair is the same washed out gray as her face and hangs offa her mattress like limp rags, puddling on the floor. I
f it weren't for the involuntary moans of pain escaping her pale, cracked lips, you would think she was already dead. Her lifeless arm hangs over the side of the bed, a tube snaking up from the equipment on the floor appears to go straight into her skin. As I watch, the tube seems to take on a heartbeat as it pumps little globs of something through the line. My eyes follow the line down to the fat, saturated bag of blood sitting on the cell floor below the poor creature’s bed, and realization dawns with sickening clarity. She’s being drained of her life force ... her blood. Just like my ma. Is she a New Blood? A wave of nausea and dizziness passes over me, and I have to prop myself against the wall to keep from falling over. Jax's hand falls on my shoulder, and I shrug it off.
"I'm all right," I say over my shoulder. "Keep lookin'."
Every cell we pass has someone or something in it. I cain't quite tell if it’s man or mutie sometimes, but the waves of suffering and hopelessness emanating from every prisoner is all the same. It makes my chest go tight, and it takes all my willpower not to break down at the cruelty of it all.
I stop suddenly in front of another cell, causing Jax to bump into my back. I stare at the young man inside. His long, yellow hair is matted to his head, and his face is as dirty as the bare mattress he’s sitting on. His head is leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. But there’s something about him, something familiar. Could it be?
I approach the see-through wall slowly and peer in, both my hands planted firmly on either side of my face. The filthy prisoner garb he wears does nuthin' to hide the gaunt frame underneath. Scraggly yellow whiskers compete with the grime for room on the thin face. He bears little resemblance to the strong, healthy boy of my memory, but I’m certain it’s him.
"Ben," I whisper, the word barely able to pass through the tightness in my throat.
I know there ain't no possible way he coulda heard me, but the brown eyes I remember so well pop open right away and stare at me with undisguised fear. Shizen. Why is he looking at me like that? Then I remember the stupid mask I’m wearing, and I push it up offa my face as I bang on the plastic with my free hand.
New Bloods Boxset Page 43
