Walker is a ways away and Sampson, Vix and Clark are not far from him. I keep searching until I find Reid, my heart sinking. He’s not grouped with any of the Rogues but, to my dismay, stands coupled with the girl he’d been arguing with.
She has flawless ivory skin and her perfectly straight cinnamon-honey hair is swept into a smooth, cascading ponytail. A few strands fall past high cheek-bones and down to a wide, pouting mouth. She shifts closer to him, trying to close the distance as her sapphire eyes bat enticingly from time to time, trying to draw his attention.
I watch them for a minute, watching her watch him. The sight releases a violent spark in my chest but Beshib’s voice finally breaks through my muting.
“I’m sure you’re all curious as to why names have recently been called during Rebuilding. Yes,” he paces the width of the glowing trunk, “I would think this odd as well. The reason,” his voice projects with that typical tinge of accusing I loathe, “is because the humans have contracted a virus.” The crowd erupts in a unanimous gasp before Beshib goes on, “We believe it originated with the berry juice. Now, our scientists are conducting routine check-ups to confirm how far it’s spread. Let me assure you—there’s nothing to worry about. We’ve only found a few individuals who’ve been exposed. They’ve been given the antidote and we expect to have them all released back to your care shortly. Until that time,” Beshib goes on, “protect yourselves from contracting it. You’ll find your pill in the same sleeve as before.”
Without prompting, everyone around me takes it like ordered, swallowing the lavender tablet whole. I make similar gestures, keeping the pill locked between my fingers again. Feigning a gulp, I drop my hand to my side.
Once everyone has stilled again, Beshib raises his arms in celebration. “Wonderful. Shall Leisure Time begin?”
This is it.
The Rogues will be sending their Scouts after Delan with information on her possession. How soon will they find they’ve been sent on a wild goose chase? I search for Sampson or Pratt, unable to stop sneaking glances back at Reid and Ansley as they move along the West Wall. He’s walking swiftly for the entrance, trying to put distance between them but she’s at his heels, refusing to let him leave.
I shift closer from the opposite side of the Wall’s opening, my eyes, like many others, trained on their scene. Reid, who keeps going, refuses to offer her the slightest glance until she stops, stomping her foot on the ground like an impatient child not getting her way. Finally, she screams his name—not Rox—atop her lungs, shattering the relative peace of the thriving Rebirth just beyond.
Things halt.
Reid stops, slowly spinning toward her with fists at his side. Her hand reaches up to stroke his cheek but he knocks it away before she’s able. Her brows pinch sullenly but it looks like it’s finally prompted a response from him.
A white flash of anger courses through me. I force myself to ignore it and move along the West Wall towards the entrance ahead. Bumped on my right hip, I glance over.
Pratt keeps to the slow, watchful pace with me, neither of us speaking. She attempts a smile, but after a moment, I realize my mouth refuses to repay the gesture. She sees this and answers automatically.
“Hey don’t worry about her—he’s over it.”
“Huh?”
“Trust me,” Pratt’s face flattens, “he is. You coming?” she makes for the Wall’s narrow entrance. I nod, following Pratt into the opaquely black entrance. On her feet, we take turn after turn through shadowy checkered passageways where Callixes and babeebs never appear. It only takes a minute but finally, after numerous turns, we end up facing a passage teeming with bodies.
Rogues.
They’re packed shoulder to shoulder and stand like an army, waiting. Ten babeebs stretch above the thicket, illuminating the fierce bunch in golden hues. And suddenly, as if sensing my arrival, they all stop and turn, eyeing me as if I were some bomb set to detonate. I hold my breath, raking through their rough, unfriendly stares.
“Come on,” Pratt senses my hesitation, weaving us a path straight through the tight pack of muscled male bodies. She doesn’t need to ask. They part for her—and me—allowing easy passage through the claustrophobic hall. Each one watches, gaping with keen interest as I pass them. So she’s Fallon, it reflects in their guarded, inquiring eyes.
Am I what they expected?
We find ourselves at the very back—or maybe the front—Able and Jace already at the starting line.
“Ah—she arrives,” Able jests, feigning a bow, “Welcome. You can still turn back you know. We’re running late on departure.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Well,” Able grins, “who’d want to be around a group of psychotic looking butchers,” he motions to the sea of Clansmen at my back, “Not to mention they reek. None of them—and I mean none—use the oh-so precious free time to bathe from their day of heavy lifting. So give yourself five minutes and ask again. Although…” he shrugs, thinking about it, “best thing to cure that is a lady’s presence.”
“Then we should go find one.”
“Aw…” he pouts, tsking me. “Someone’s being modest.”
I shake my head at the violent scene I have in store for the girl, who I’m pretty sure is Ansley. “Not as much as you think...”
“Don’t believe it for a second,” Sampson grins, rising from the opposite wall and enclosing our intimate group of four, “and really, Fallon, shame. You’ve very deserving of the word.”
“Alright…” I glance around, eager to change the subject on my questionable etiquette, “his highness showing up anytime soon?”
Just as I ask, Reid emerges through the sea of tight bodies with Tucker at his heel, thanking each Clansman as they move. The slight path they weaved has been swallowed up behind them, packed with the herd of bodies all staring our way. They’re all awaiting this meeting Rox has called.
He passes, tossing me a fleeting, questioning glance, wondering, perhaps if I’d seen anything.
I’m unsure how I want to respond, especially since I don’t know what happened after we went into the Maze. Did she try something further?
...Did he let her?
My heart sinks and I count to five. Looking up, I find Able and lock onto him for security. Smiling at him instead, his mouth lifts nervously, unsure whether to repay the expression.
Much to Able’s relief, Reid doesn’t give it a second thought, already moving on to assist Sampson who’s opening the door in the wall. Reid gestures everyone inside and Pratt, Able and I are first into the corridor. Pratt takes the lead while Vix, Sampson, and Reid spread themselves along the line of moving bodies to make sure no one gets lost in the labyrinth.
When we’re outside the Castle’s gate and Reid’s far in the back with Tucker, Able finally makes his way to my side, casting me a stern scowl.
“So… trying to get me killed?” he cups a babeeb in front of us, lighting our path as we follow the silhouette of the Clansmen ahead.
“What?”
“Back there,” he motions behind us. “In the Maze.”
He can’t be serious. “Scared of a little smile?”
“From Pratt, no, from you…” he gulps, really considering it, “…my life may not be worth much but I’d like to keep it.”
“Don’t be such a baby.”
“It’s not a compliment,” he laughs nervously. “Trust me, I wish it was. It’s self-preservation.”
“You’re joking.”
“Wish I were.”
Able switches the babeeb into his left hand, holding it out, “No one wants to be the guy who causes Reid to flip and leave again. He’s just now…”
A Clansman bumps into Able in his haste to pass.
“Sorry Rogue Commander,” he stops and bows.
“It’s fine,” Able nods him off as the Clansman moves ahead, into the glow of Pratt’s babeeb up ahead. Able watches him for a minute longer before turning back to me with a whisper, “…He’s just no
w starting to reappear. Up until a few weeks ago, he was inaccessible, incognito—wouldn’t even talk to the guys.” Able lowers his hands, palm down. “No one wants to jinx this.”
“Well what happened?” I press, “Why’d he cut off all communication?”
Able shrugs, his mind wandering to some memory, “Embarrassed, probably… the way she humiliated him.”
“What do you mean?”
His mind dances around the scene, his mouth opening to explain. But then he looks up, startled to see me again. Was he about to reveal something he shouldn’t have? He shakes his head in dismissal. “What? Nothing. Nothing.”
“Who humiliated him?” I pull him to a stop, the light lowering between us. “Was it Ansley?”
A few Clansmen sweep by. They ignore us mostly, seemingly more interested in this underground Maze than a conversation between Able and I.
I shake his arm for a response. “Was it?”
“Yes!” he snatches his arm away.
“Why?”
“You must think I’m an idiot to tell you that,” he starts walking again.
“Not an idiot… a new best friend?” I’m at his side, arching my brows with high hopes.
He looks over, amused. “Don’t you have one yet?”
“Still looking,” I stop him again, “come on, please? Just tell me if he’s still…” but I can’t find the words to ask what I really want to know.
“He’s not,” Able shakes his head, helping me finish my thought. He starts walking again, “That’s why you throwing me flirty grins isn’t exactly beneficial to my health.”
“You look tough enough.”
“Against Rox?” he laughs at the possibility, playing over some distant memory, one that quickly makes him shudder.
“Aw…” I mimic his patronizing tone from earlier. “Someone’s being modest.”
He feigns a grin. “Your safety is not in jeopardy.”
“Says who? Mantis looked like he wanted to eat me.”
“Maybe he does,” Able agrees without hesitation. Fear must register on my face because he follows it up quickly, reassuringly. “I wouldn’t worry about him though.”
“I’m not worried.”
“Well, you’re tougher than me,” Able gulps, his eyes large amber disks, “That’s one scary bastard.”
“But he’s not actually in charge of the Kings, right?”
Able frowns at my knowledge, proceeding cautiously, unaware of what information Reid’s already divulged.
“Right… but Grisham is laid back compared to Mantis,” Able stares off a second, “Sometimes I wonder if Mantis is really in charge.”
“Is he?”
“Has Tucker actually been running the Rogues this whole time?” Able narrows his eyes, “But really, depends on who you ask. Tucker thinks Grisham is still in charge… Reid might have something different to say.”
“So… does this mean Reid’s back with you guys now?”
“Seems so…” Able shrugs, “though you’d know before me.”
“Meaning?”
His face flattens to a dull eye roll at the question, as if it was the most ridiculous thing to want answered. He speeds up, taking the light with him.
“…Just one more thing,” I rush back to his side, ignoring his heavy sigh at my dogged attempts to keep the information flowing.
“Isn’t there always?”
“How long were they together?”
“What?” he glances over with an uncomfortable frown.
“How long?”
“Come on,” he shakes his head, moving faster, “haven’t you exceeded your questions for the night?”
“Almost. Come on new best friend—how long?” I jump around in front of him, cutting off his path. He tries dodging around me but I sprint in front of him with each turn. Finally, Able sighs, stopping in defeat.
“Why do I have to be the one to tell you?” he gripes, as if taking on the burden of the world, “If I lose rank because of you, we’re no longer best friends.”
“Deal.”
He stops, and, with an exasperated sigh, admits. “Two years. But that’s all,” he offers an adamant hand swipe. “I’m cutting you off.”
We head the rest of the way in silence. Nearly upon the burrow’s entrance, Reid jets past as the line comes to a complete halt. We file in one by one and Able’s right behind me, gesturing to the immediate left so we can watch as everyone enters.
“Listen,” he keeps his voice low, “I like you for him so I want to help. This is a freebee,” Able glances at me, then back at the entrance, “You’re going to want to pay attention. This is probably the last time you’ll see them all grouped together in one place like this,” he motions to the entrance. With a cluster of babeebs hovering above his head, Sampson stands like a lantern. To his left, Reid and Tucker greet each Clansman as they trickle in.
Able’s in my ear again, speaking fast but low. “You’ve got five divisions. Assignments, Tokens, Enforcement, Recruitment and Supplies, each lead by its division R.C.”
“Like you and Jace?”
“Yep,” he nods, “but I’ll get to us in a second.”
Able motions to a husky American Indian with black hair done in two braids that fall over his shoulders. The plaits surround his angular brown face while white feathered earrings hang from both lobes. He takes Reid’s hand in both of his, grasping it.
“Chief.” Able whispers next to me.
“That’s his name?”
“Well… that’s what we call him. No one can really pronounce it. Starts with an A-Y…”
“He ever smile?” I ask as his hardened stare casts about, surveying the room. His sights lock on me as he makes his way to the opposite wall and folds his arms.
“It’s a rare sight,” Able whispers.
“He’s a rare sight.” We exchange glances.
“Chief’s the RC over Enforcement,” Able indicates to each Clansman as they pass from the outside corridor into the hollowed burrow. “You’ve got Booker, Kenya, Simon and Merritt. Useful for scare tactics and if it comes down to it, muscle, though all Rogues know combative basics. ”
They emerge one by one, most reacting the same—ogling this hollowed trunk with wonder in their eyes and disbelief in their gaping jaws. Reid shakes hands with everyone, offering a quick pat on the back, greeting and thanking each personally.
“And then there’s Harrison for Supplies,” Able motions to a Rogue scanning the space with an impressive whistle. Leanly built, he’s tall with light brown waves covering his head and lower half of his face. Behind him, two boys prod through, both somewhat short with dark features and devious, eager grins. “The Carpenters,” Able explains, “Rooney and Drenz. Make you anything you need.”
“Like what?”
“Brushes,” he shrugs, tossing out the first things that come to mind, “shaving razors, dice, utensils, jewelry. You give them the order and they construct it from the gibb.”
“So they can make anything?”
“Well… has to be approved by Rox, of course,” Able offers me a fleeting glance, “Then there’s Kelly. Assignments,” he stresses, “…not to say one division’s more important than the other but Assignments is where we tend to obtain most of our information.”
“The working with Clients and such?”
“Exactly. Kelly’s Rogue Commander… also not a big smiler,” he indicates the Rogue with jet-black hair, impossibly large muscles and an indelible scowl that looks carved into his face. He moves into the burrow, a line of boys behind him.
“You’ve got Niles, Werzo, Dowdy, Peel, Ando and Oscar, all on assignment, all in control of the Scouts,” Able nods to himself before amending his statement, “except Pratt of course.”
“What about Irie?”
“Him either. Both fall outside Kelly’s jurisdiction.”
“Why?”
He shrugs, crossing his arms. “Perk of being personal Scout to Rogue Leader and Rox.”
“Oka
y… and where do you and Jace fit in?”
“Jace is Recruitment. Scans all Arrivals for possible threat or potential. With him,” Able gestures to the back of the nearly filled room, to the two clansmen that entered before me, “Moss and Cramp. Quiet boys. Real people watchers… kind of fits the job description.”
“And you?”
“Tokens. Importing and exporting.”
“And who helps you?”
“Artisten,” Able indicates the next Rogue entering the burrow. Reid takes his hand, welcoming him. “He manages exporting all goods to the Scouts and Clients. The curious, oh so stunned beefcake behind him is Looper. Among other duties, he keeps all Clansmen fed and supplied. Geppers and Dale work under Artisten and Hedrick and Vennis under Looper. That should be everyone…” Able stops, thinking, “all Rogues and Rogue Commanders at least.”
“And where are all the girls?”
Able shrugs, “tough business being a Rogue. Rox didn’t want any inadvertently hurt.”
“Even under assignments? Is that still super dangerous?”
“Are you kidding?” he laughs, “everything is dangerous. If we had any female Rogues, the Kings would go after them first. It’s next a sexist thing—it’s a safety thing.”
“Okay…” I glance around the room which is overflowing with Clansmen. All together, they’re a ferocious lot and suddenly, fear swells in my abdomen. As if he could hear it, Able leans over, gesturing toward their unforgiving faces. “You’ve got to impress them to get respect.”
“How am I doing so far?”
“Hard to say. You ran straight into that riot. Shows bravery… and stupidity. You stood up to Tetlak,” he shrugs, “but Reid came to your rescue. Twice. I think it’s all balancing on tonight.”
I roll my eyes, the pit of fear in my belly racing my heart, “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Oh—is that what you wanted?” he laughs. “It’s not complicated. They listen to Rox because he demands it,” Able narrows his eyes, suggesting the mere simplicity of it. “Do the same.”
Sampson closes the door behind Dale, enclosing the hollowed trunk teeming with oversized Rogues. It’s quiet, almost uncomfortably so, until the Clansmen start sharing wise cracks about the location and joking how they’d never get past the gate. Scanning the room, I do a quick count. Twenty-six clansmen. Not bad. And not including Reid. Twenty-seven in total. They range in age from mid teens to late twenties, with Sampson being, by far the oldest person in the room.
Escape from Harrizel Page 18
