by Fine, Sarah
“Well, Hani,” answered Bilal, “this one stuck Amid pretty good, which in my estimation makes it less cute and more likely to be a Mazikin.”
“We’ll certainly know once Malachi’s done with it,” Hani mused.
Bilal looked concerned. “Does Amid know it’s awake?”
Hani looked back over his shoulder. “Not yet. I was hoping it would stay down until Malachi got here so he could deal with it.”
All three of us jumped as one of the doors at the back of the room crashed open. Another Guard—the one I’d stabbed. “I was told Malachi has been summoned,” he boomed.
“Amid, it’s procedure to summon the Captain when we capture a live Mazikin,” Bilal said apologetically.
“I will question it myself,” snarled Amid. He pulled a set of skeleton keys from a peg on the wall and fingered them. When he found the right one, he jammed it into the keyhole at the door of my cell.
Bilal laid a hand on Amid’s arm. “Remain in control of yourself.”
Amid jerked his arm away. “I will question it. I bet I can get it to spill its secrets before Malachi steps over our humble threshold. Then he will see who’s in control.”
Hani looked at Bilal and shook his head. “Let’s go get something to eat.”
Bilal looked disgusted, but all he said was “Malachi will not be happy.”
My heart sank as I watched them disappear through the door on the far left side of the room.
Amid wrenched open the door of my cell and took a few cautious steps inside. I lay still but could not completely conceal my helpless, terrified tremors.
“Oh good,” Amid chortled evilly, “you’re awake.” He nearly took one of my arms out of its socket as he dragged me to my feet. “Let’s go someplace where we can talk, just you and me.”
Amid yanked me out of the cell and shoved me in front of him. It was all I could do to put one foot in front of the other. My head was killing me.
He clamped his enormous hands around my arms from behind. The hot tar of memory started to bubble up from the caverns of my mind. I shook my head to try to stay in the moment, knowing I’d need every bit of wit and cunning I had to make it out of this situation alive. I immediately found out shaking your head after you’ve just gotten a concussion is a really stupid idea, though, and was almost carried away by the waves of nausea that crashed over me.
Amid guided me roughly toward the door on our left and locked an arm around my neck as he tugged it open. Some of those thick, sticky memory bubbles popped, and I thrashed as he edged up hard behind me. Then he kicked me right at the base of my spine. I landed on my side on the rough cement floor and scrambled to my feet, but it felt like my vertebrae were in pieces, and I couldn’t quite stand up straight. The floor suddenly looked very inviting.
I backed against the rear wall as Amid advanced. “I said I just wanted to talk,” he explained as he reached out. “I’m going to take off your muzzle and mitts, and you’re going to be a nice little monster, all right? Relax, Mazikin—I’m going to give you something you want.”
I stood still as he unbuckled my restraints. As soon as they were loose, I scooted away. “Thanks,” I said as I put as much distance between us as possible. The room was large, but not nearly large enough for my liking.
“How’s your leg?” I asked as my gaze streaked along the walls. The only way out was the door we’d just come through. Amid grunted by way of an answer and watched me with an expression that was a nauseating combination of amusement and hatred. “By the way,” I added as I edged a few inches closer to the door, “just to clear things up, my name’s not Mazikin. It’s Lela.”
His sea-green eyes narrowed, and he knelt to pull his hunting knife from its sheath. “You can call yourself whatever you want.” His gaze bored into mine as he sent the knife sliding across the floor toward me. “Now—try to cut me again.”
Well, shit.
Because I had no choice, I scooped the knife from the floor. I wondered whether it was going to be plunged into my flesh sometime in the next few minutes. It seemed highly likely.
“I thought we were going to talk,” I said in what I hoped was a friendly voice. “I really am sorry about your leg. You kind of caught me by surprise. Survival instinct, you know. Nothing personal.”
I shuffled sideways, trying to find a path to the door that kept me out of his reach. He grunted again and stalked toward me. Crap. This guy was going to slaughter me, and I had no idea why, apart from the fact that I’d escaped the first time he’d tried. It seemed like a case of mistaken identity—he kept calling me a Mazikin, and I had nothing to do with those sword-wielding folks the other Guard had killed. I crouched low (in part because I couldn’t actually stand up straight) and realized I had nowhere to go. He was now between me and the door.
For a crazy moment I pondered whether there might be an afterlife after my afterlife. When he killed me, where would I go? I was already dead. Wasn’t dying once enough? For me, it definitely was. Desperate to postpone my seemingly inevitable second death just a few moments longer, I cocked my arm and threw the knife with all the strength I had.
Amid had obviously not expected me to do something so ballsy. He looked down, stupidly surprised, at the knife sticking out of his gut.
It took me less than a second to see it wasn’t deep enough to slow the freaking rhino down, and I was limping along the edge of the wall before he’d pulled the blade from his belly. Although I expected to feel it between my ribs any moment, I just couldn’t kick the habit of survival.
He laughed. “That was a good trick, Mazikin. But I hope you have something better than that.”
I scuttled like a pathetic crab around the edge of the room. “Nope. Any chance you’d believe me if I told you again that I’m not a Mazikin?”
“Nope,” he mimicked. He blocked my path to the door with two long strides as he threw the knife into the farthest corner of the room. “Care to try again?”
“No.” I shrank back, trapped.
“Too bad.” He punched me sharply in the side, sending me straight to the floor. I collapsed in on myself, all my smart words gone, unable to breathe, wondering absently if the ribs he’d shattered had punctured a lung. Amid grabbed my ankle and jerked me toward him. “Stand up, Mazikin.”
I actually tried to comply, anything to keep him from hitting me again. But I didn’t move fast enough for him. He grabbed my hair and wrenched me to my feet, then pressed me back into the corner, bending over me. The fog of his breath coiled around me, dragging me back in time.
On my belly in the dark and the weight of his body presses me into pink sheets.
No. Not again. This will not happen again. My fist shot up and connected with Amid’s nose as I reached for his baton with my other hand. I tore it free as he stumbled back, transferring it to my left hand because I couldn’t raise my right arm above my shoulder. I took a desperate, running leap and smacked him across the face with the baton. The crunch of it vibrated up my arm. He bellowed in pain. I threw myself toward the door and reached it just as he charged.
I managed to bang and scream for help only once before he grabbed me again. He slammed my head into the door and whipped me back, sending me crashing into another wall. I tried to swing the baton at him, but I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t see. I just flailed, helpless. I heard the snap of the bones in my wrist as he twisted my arm away from his weapon, but the pain did not hit me fully until he pinned me against the wall again, holding my arms above my head.
I screamed for help, for mercy, for vengeance, face and hips and knees pressed against the cinder blocks, drowning in panicked memories. I was there but not there. Despite my crazed struggling, my mind was unforgiving—it easily registered the sickening pressure of Amid’s body as he crushed me against the wall. No. No.
I kicked but couldn’t hit anything. Streaks of light and dark blazed across my vision. His thick fingers curled into the hair at my scalp as he lurched my head back and bounced it off the wall aga
in. And then I couldn’t see anything at all. Grunts and whimpers flew from my mouth until I ran out of air. Amid was too close behind me to allow me to draw a breath. Facedown in the pink sheets, suffocating. No one will hear my screams.
Then several things happened at once, and I was only able to sort it out later. The door of the room splintered and fell open. A voice shook the walls with fury as it roared, “No.” The weight at my back lifted. The cement of the floor greeted me like a long-lost friend. Metal hit flesh with smacking thuds punctuated by Amid’s grunts of pain. Voices argued in an incomprehensible language. It might have been English, but I was past understanding.
I was too busy dying. Again.
EIGHT
SHEETS BENEATH ME. FINGERS touching my face.
No, shrieked a voice. My voice.
I pressed myself to the floor, heart pounding. My face was wet. I wiped at it impatiently and crouched low next to an empty cot. Its rumpled sheet tangled around my naked body.
From my position on the floor, I could see a table across from me, surrounded by two folding chairs. A gas lantern sitting on the table was the only source of light, battling futilely against the darkness that claimed most of the room. My eyes skimmed along the wall to my left until they found the door. Before I had time to seriously consider bolting, a voice interrupted my escape plans.
“It’s locked. And you should know better.” It was a male voice, accent clipped and precise, coming from my right, on the other side of the room. I pulled the sheet tighter around my body and raised my head over the edge of the cot.
He sat on a folding chair several feet away, leaning back so I couldn’t see his features in the shadows. “I guess you’re not thirsty after all,” he commented. With a hollow clunk, he set what must have been a cup on the floor.
There was something familiar about him.
“It’s okay with me if you want to stay where you are,” he continued, “but you might be more comfortable if you got back in bed. You’ve been through a lot.”
“What happened?” I assumed he would know what I meant. Before I’d lost consciousness, I’d been sure I was dying of internal injuries. And my wrist had been shattered. Now—I felt fine. Absolutely fine.
“Your physical injuries were healed.”
“You must have a hell of a medical facility here then,” I snapped. “Why did I have any injuries at all? I’m dead, right?”
He chuckled drily. “We’re all dead. But we breathe. We bleed, too. The body you have here can be hurt just like the one you had before. It can be killed as well. And you never know where you’ll end up if that happens.”
I nodded cautiously.
“There’s a clean shirt and pants here for you.” He tossed the garments onto the cot between us, along with a flimsy pair of slippers.
I reached for them. “Turn your back.”
He laughed. “You’re joking, right? If you want to put the clothes on, put them on. Or feel free to crouch on the floor, wrapped in a sheet. Either way, we’re going to talk.”
This time I was the one who laughed, but even to me, it sounded just this side of hysterical. “The last time one of you said that to me, it didn’t go so well.”
“Ah. I’m sorry about that. Amid has been short-tempered and restless lately. And you humiliated him—several times. But what he did was unacceptable. We don’t work like that.”
“Glad to hear it.” I glared at him as I sat down on the floor and tied the sheet around the back of my neck so it covered the front of my body. I pulled the pants on under it and wrenched the shirt over the top. Unfortunately, the shirt was more like a tent, and the pants hung loosely from my hips, threatening a humiliating slide at the worst moment. “Would a belt be too much to ask?”
“It would,” he said as he stood up and leaned forward into the weak pool of lamplight, giving me the first real glimpse of his face. “I’m Malachi, by the way.” He held out his hand.
Crap. It was him—the Guard from the street fight. The guy the rhino Guards had said would wring the truth out of me. The one they seemed to fear and hate. The one who murdered two people right in front of Nadia.
His features were smooth and unlined, and yet somehow still carried that air of ferocity and defiance I’d observed before. The deep voids of his eyes were surrounded by thick, black lashes and full of confidence and threat. It was as if he’d already assessed my weaknesses and ticked off all the possible ways to kill me, so now he could relax and be friendly. His was not a soft face, but it held a harsh, dangerous sort of beauty. Dangerous being the operative word. I reached out carefully to shake his hand, like I might pet a viper or a shark.
“I’m Lela.”
His hand was warm over mine. His grip was strong. I pulled back quickly. He let me, though his gaze lingered on mine. “A pleasure, Lela. Now, please tell me what you’re doing in my city.”
“Um…the same thing as everyone else. I killed myself,” I explained dully, trying to droop my face into that look of sorrowful self-absorption I’d seen on all the residents in this city. I’d seen what he did to people who defied him, and I didn’t feel like being introduced to the business end of his knife. I would play dumb until I figured out the magical combination of words that would spring the lock on this cage.
“Your behavior suggests you have another agenda.” His voice was mild as he pulled out one of the folding chairs next to the table and sat down. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back. He wasn’t wearing armor or any obvious weaponry and looked perfectly casual in a pair of fatigue pants and a snug, long-sleeved T-shirt. He looked like any ordinary high school senior. One who was in terrific shape. One who killed people in his spare time.
Satisfied that he was at a reasonably safe distance, I sank down on the cot, happy not to have to hold my pants up any longer. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I replied, still attempting to sound mournful.
His eyebrows shot up, though he didn’t really look surprised. “Is that so? Let me give you some information, then. Apart from the Guards, there are only two types of creatures in this city who pay any attention to others. Most of the souls within these walls are pretty busy dealing with themselves. But I think you know that.”
“Who says I’m not busy dealing with myself?”
“You were seen trying to talk to several people last night.”
I rolled my eyes, then caught myself and tried to look depressed again. “Is that against the law here?”
He smiled. “Not at all,” he said evenly, “but it does draw our attention.”
“I haven’t been here long. I’m just trying to figure this place out.”
“Again, that’s not typical behavior for the residents of this city. Which makes you one of two things. Either you’re a Mazikin, and I will destroy you, or you are ready to go before the Judge and get out of this city.”
I definitely did not want to be destroyed. I also didn’t want to get out of the city. Well, I did, desperately—but not before I found Nadia. “I have no idea what a Mazikin is. I’d know if I was one, right? I’m not quite ready to leave, though. I have some issues to deal with….” I tried to sound dazed.
God, I am such a pathetic actress.
The side of his mouth twitched, like he was trying not to laugh. “Lela, you have exhibited some very aggressive behavior. You assaulted a Guard when he tried to place you under arrest—”
That jerked my head up. “Hey now, he didn’t say anything about arresting me. One minute I’m minding my own business, and the next he’s assaulting me.”
His eyes flashed. “He said you were consorting with a known Mazikin recruiter.”
“What? I’d never seen that creepy little man until right before your friend jumped me.”
“What did he say to you? What were you talking about?”
“He made some racist comment and then tried to get me to go with him.”
“Did he say where?” He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. He looked
like he was ready to take action, which made me shrink back instinctively.
“He didn’t have time. Your friend Amid rudely interrupted our conversation.” My mouth didn’t cower with the rest of me.
He sat back, as if I had disappointed him. “Ah, well, if he hadn’t, you’d have found yourself in some very serious trouble.”
I scoffed, the heat of frustration blasting along my skin. “Yeah, thanks. Glad I’m not in any ‘serious trouble.’ What the hell is wrong with you? I guess getting beaten to death by a huge, scary troll is just the funny, unserious kind of trouble around here….”
“Again, I apologize for what Amid did. The Guards thought you were a Mazikin. I don’t excuse their behavior, but they are on edge right now.” The folding chair squeaked across the floor as he rose to pace. “In addition to their usual activities, Mazikin have killed five Guards in the last month, including Amid’s closest friend.”
Before I saw him move, he leaned over me, his face inches from mine, his arms braced on either side of the cot. He inhaled deeply, just like he’d done to Nadia. “You don’t smell like them. But you don’t smell like any of the others, either.”
I managed to stay very still, terrified of what he would do next. His cheek brushed mine. All my muscles contracted at once, and my skin was suddenly too tight. I shook my head, trying to release some of the heat pooling in my cheeks. He pulled back abruptly. “If you’re helping them, I’m going to find out. Tell me what I need to know now or—”
“Or what?” I challenged, refusing to back down from the threat in his eyes, glad for the reminder to stay focused. “You’re going to pull an Amid and ‘talk’ to me?”
He made a frustrated sound and resumed his pacing. “It’s my job to keep the residents of this city safe.”
“Yeah,” I muttered, “by cutting their throats.”
“What did you say?”
“Nothing. I’m sure you’re very good at your job.”
He halted midpace and put his hands on his hips. “I need to know why you’re in this city. You clearly don’t belong here, but you don’t seem to want to leave. Nearly everyone here wants to leave or at least find some kind of escape. So, since you don’t, I need to know what you do want. Maybe I can help you.”
