Keira Grim: The Final Breath Chronicles Book Two

by V. B. Marlowe

  We ran to the edge of the cliff and peered over. The rope swung back and someone caught it. The boy was already swimming toward the water's edge so he could climb back up. The others sighed and slapped each other on the back.

  "You all right, Buck?" one of the boys yelled down.

  "Yeah, I'm good."

  Even after that scare, the boys didn't stop the dangerous stunt. Rory stepped forward next. He wore a pair of long dark green shorts and no shirt. Like all the other boys, he was barefoot. Rory was different from the others because he had a soft yellow glow around him that only I could see. That glow meant that he was a Fated—the person who se 's life I been sent to collect.

  Rory grabbed the rope that would probably lead him to his death. If I were like Naomi, I might have tried to stop it. I would have done something to keep Rory from losing his young life. But I wasn't like Naomi. I understood how things worked. Humans ’ deaths were what kept us alive. If we ceased to exist, everything would be out of whack. Death was a part of life. It had to happen to keep things in balance.

  But then, we'd recently discovered that Naomi was part human, so we couldn't really fault her. She felt sympathy for humans, while a full-blooded Grim wouldn't.

  Rory didn't hesitate like Buck had. He ran backward to give himself some momentum then he pushed off the rocky ground. He glided easily to the other cliff, but didn't let go when he reached the other side. He swung back toward us on the rope with a proud grin on his face. Rory was a show-off, and that might cost him his life.

  I made a fist with my hand to get ready for Rory's lifestone. I wasn't sure of the exact time it would happen, but I was prepared. As he swung back to us, the other boys clapped and cheered him on. One of the boys gave him a push for more force. Rory soared back toward the other cliff, but he lost his grip and headed toward the water. The other boys laughed at him.

  "That's what you get!" shouted the boy with the white-blond hair.

  I looked over the cliff. Buck had made it back to us , and Rory floated face down on the water.

  "Rory, stop playing, man," yelled one boy.

  The palm of my hand began to feel warm.

  Rory continued to float, only moving because the water made him.

  "Rory!" Buck shouted. The boys were getting it now.

  "Let's go," Buck said, pushing the others down the hill. They headed down to the water to save their friend, but it was too late.

  I opened the palm of my hand. There lay Rory's lifestone like a lump of coal. I waited to be transported back home while the boys screamed below me.

  The rope dangled in the air. As stupid as it was, swinging from one side to the other had looked like fun—just a little.

  Finally, what looked like a tiny silver elevator appeared before me. The door slid open , and I stepped inside. I took a deep breath and let it take me home.

  3

  The Night of the Riots

  A few nights after my assignment, Dad shook me awake as some ungodly hour. I was in the middle of a beautiful dream. Him waking me up annoyed me because good dreams were hard to come by.

  I looked at my window through squinted eyes. It was still dark. "What , Dad?"

  "Get down to the basement. Quick!"

  The fear and urgency in my father's voice frightened me. I shot from the bed and followed him down to the basement. The warning siren blared from a distance. The sounds of things breaking and people yelling from outside confused me . , My mother and younger brother were already in the basement.

  I sat next to my mother on a small wooden bench as Dad and Josh pushed a wooden cabinet toward the door.

  "What's happening?" I asked.

  "The prisoners are rioting," Dad answered. "I'm sure the Foragers are in on it too."

  Dad stopped pushing the cabinet once it was next to the door. "I'll be back. Do not leave this basement until I come back and tell you that it's okay."

  "No!" I yelled. "Daddy , please don't go out there."

  He paused in the doorway. "I'll be fine. Sit down."

  Before I could say another word, Dad was gone. Josh shoved the cabinet in front of the door.

  Mom stared at her hands. "He'll be fine. He'll be back," she muttered, but I think she was talking to herself.

  I leaned against my mother. Our colony had never experienced anything like this before. "What-what if they come inside?"

  "We just hope they won't," Mom answered. "Hopefully the Watchers get things under control before they get too bad. We'll be fine."

  Down in the basement , we couldn't hear what was going on outside. I spent the night worrying about my father, wondering what he was doing out there. That morning someone knocked on the door of the basement. "It's me," Dad called.

  Josh and I ran to move the cabinet away from the door. We practically knocked Dad over giving him hugs.

  Once things were deemed safe, we were able to step out on the lawn of our home.

  I'd never seen Farrington look so broken. The streets were littered with glass and pieces of wood. Several Grims were busy boarding broken doors and windows. We were lucky that our home had gone untouched, although someone's front door la y id in the center of our yard.

  Dunningham called an assembly that afternoon. Every Grim in Nowhere gathered in the square. Dunningham assured us that a riot would never take place again and that security would be immediately increased.

  As we headed back to our homes after being dismissed, Bram caught up to me.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah. You?"

  He nodded. "Naomi's gone."

  My heart dropped into the pit of my stomach. "What do you mean she's gone?"

  "That boy Colden came by and told me that he had gotten her to the Outskirts."

  I took a deep breath. "Well, why'd you say it like that? I thought you meant gone as in dead."

  Bram shrugged. "Sorry. She should be safe now." Then he walked off with his family toward their house.

  I guessed the Outskirts were better for Naomi, but I also knew that probably meant never seeing her again. My birthday was the following day, but there was nothing to celebrate.

  It had been a while since I'd seen Bram. The last time I'd spoken to him he had decided to become a Watcher and get engaged to some girl. I tried not to let the latter part get to me. There was no use in me mourning over Bram being betrothed to somebody else. He had turned eighteen months ago , and he should have been married already. He couldn't wait for me. Besides, my father would never let me marry Bram. Most fathers didn't want their daughters with a well-known trouble-maker.

  Shattered windows, splintered doors, ransacked homes and shops still plagued our colony, but they weren't the most of our worries. Nowhere's pride had been hurt. We'd never been attacked before , and no one felt as safe as we usually did. The worst part was that several of our Grims had been injured and there was no way to heal them. We'd never had any use for doctors and hospitals. Grims rarely got sick or injured, and when they did, they took care of it on their own. There was no simple way to remove an arrow from your abdomen, and for us that didn't mean death. It meant living in pain until the wound healed.

  The Watchers were more on guard and present in the streets since then. Homes and shops had been damaged, but everyone had been pitching in to help clean up broken glass, replace windows, and repair broken doors. The men of Farrington and the Upper Estates were having more secret meetings than usual.

  After breakfast one morning, I tried to waste time by pretending to clean the kitchen, but Mom ordered me to begin my studies. We didn't attend school like human children, but young Grims under the age of eighteen were required to study for a certain period of time each day. I lay across my bed and opened The Rules of Death. It seemed like an interesting read, but for some reason, I couldn't focus. I sensed that something weird was going on.

  Mom and Dad were in the study, speaking in hushed voices. Lately, they had been doing that more than usual. Part of me wanted to know why they were being
so secretive , and another part of me was thankful for the opportunity to sneak out of the house. I let myself out of the back door quietly and headed for Bram's.

  I walked briskly, taking the back streets, still not used to the sound of broken glass crunching beneath my boots. I didn't want anyone stopping me to question why I was out during study hours, so I pulled my hood over my head and moved as quickly as possible.

  The back door of the house was locked. Usually we kept our doors unlocked , since there wasn't anything to keep out, but in light of recent events, we had been encouraged to takes extra precautions.

  Thankfully Fortunately , Dorian, Naomi and Bram's younger brother, answered. I wouldn't have to explain to him why I was there. When Naomi had lived there, her parents wouldn't have questioned my visits, but now that she was living in the Outskirts, outside of Nowhere, I really had no valid reason to be there.

  "Hey," Dorian said, looking past me. "Is Josh here?"

  "No. Sorry."

  Dorian looked disappointed. He and my brother were best friends.

  "Is Bram here?" I asked.

  "Yeah, he's upstairs doing something."

  "Where are your parents?"

  "Dad's on assignment , and Mom's doing something in the basement. Don't worry, she won't catch you going up."

  I rubbed Dorian's hair playfully before dashing up the stairs. Bram's bedroom door was closed as usual. I knocked gently.

  "What?" he asked, sounding annoyed.

  "May I come in?"

  There was a pause and then some movement. The door cracked open slightly, revealing just a sliver of Bram's face. He looked me up and down and raised the one eyebrow I could see. "You know this is against the rules. You're not allowed to be alone with me. Your father said."

  I pushed the door open and squeezed between Bram and the door. He was shirtless, revealing the Grim branding that we all had on our right shoulders, an intricate "G " , ” as well as an unauthorized tattoo he had obtained. Tattoos and piercings of any kind were forbidden in Nowhere. Bram had gotten a tattoo and ear gauges to fit in when we'd gone on assignment at a human high school, so he'd been excused. I tried not to look at his chest, which wasn't easy.

  He closed the door behind me. "What brings you by?" He tried to be straight-faced, but that didn't last for long. Finally, his pink lips curved into a smile.

  I tried not to smile back, but I couldn't help it as I sat on the edge of his bed. "I wanted to talk to you before all this stuff happens—you know, you becoming a Watcher and getting married and all."

  Bram sighed and sat beside me. I moved over just in case someone walked in. I didn't want this situation to look inappropriate when we were only talking.

  "I don't know what the hell I'm doing, Keir. Senka and I are getting married at the end of next week."

  "Wow. That was quick."

  "I know. Our parents felt it would be easier to go to Blake and let him perform a small ceremony. We're not making a big deal about it." Blake performed all of the marriage ceremonies in Farrington. The arrangement gave me the sense of how final this was.

  I nodded. I guessed it didn't really matter. Marriages among Grims were always prearranged, so getting married wasn't always a happy occasion, depending on who m you got paired with. Marriage was just something that happened once a Grim turned eighteen so that you could live on your own and receive the full benefits of being a Grim—mainly a house and being able to procreate.

  I watched him. His dark eyes looked down at the hardwood floor. They were missing the glisten they usually had. I hated when he looked that way. I had the urge to run my fingers through his messy jet-black hair, like as I did sometimes during our nighttime visits, but I didn't. He was engaged , and that wouldn't be appropriate anymore. Instead, I placed my hand on his, my brown skin contrasting against his pale hand. He squeezed my hand tight.

  I sighed. "This is weird. It seemed like yesterday we were just kids hanging out , and now you're about to be married and officially an adult."

  Bram dropped his head. "I know. It doesn't seem real to me either. I'm going to be in charge of running a household. And I'm pretty sure she's gonna want kids."

  I tried to push down the lump that had formed in my throat after his last statement. "What about becoming a Watcher?"

  He sat up a little straighter. "Once I'm married I'll go to the Mill for a few weeks of training and then I'll be one of them."

  "Is that what you really want to do?" The Watchers were the guardians of Nowhere. They were always spying and reporting things back to Dunningham. Their job was to keep the outsiders away and to make sure that Grims followed the rules. Bram was the biggest rule-breaker I knew. The thought of him becoming a Watcher was ridiculous to me.

  "I want to help keep those disgusting rats out of our city. Every time I walk outside and see the destruction they caused, it pisses me off. I want to kill each and every one of them."

  Foragers were banished to live outside of Nowhere. They were the descendants of Dunningham's twin brother Dunstan. They didn't get to collect lives, so they grew old and died. The Grims of Litropolis, the poor Grims, had only a slightly better fate. They received a few assignments here and there, but not enough to keep them alive forever like the rest of us. That was just the way it was.

  "What about Naomi?" I asked cautiously. I knew he didn't like to talk about her anymore.

  He bit his lip. "I don't know. Naomi's different. She's my sister, but still, she is what she is. She's one of them." It had recently come to light that Naomi's real father was a human. Their mother had had illegal relations with a Fated and paid for her crime with . . . herself. "Happy belated birthday, by the way."

  "Thanks." I had almost forgotten that I'd had a birthday.

  "I know a lot was going on, but you could still have a party. This is your last birthday as a kid."

  I shrugged. "I'm just not in that kind of mood."

  "I got you a present—"

  A knock on the door startled us. "Bram, Mr. Doyle is here to see you," called Bram's mother, Eleanor. She couldn't mask the hint of worry in her voice.

  We both stood anxiously. Bram pointed toward his closet. "Just a second," he said to Doyle, while I climbed inside. He opened the door to his bedroom. I watched through the slats of the closet door. Doyle entered, closing the bedroom door behind him.

  "Mr. Doyle, please have a seat," Bram said, pulling over a chair from his desk.

  Doyle sat in the chair and folded one leg over the other. He ran his fingers through his mop of black, curly hair. Doyle was Mr. Dunningham's right-hand man and a very important person in Nowhere. What was he doing in Bram's bedroom? Had Bram broken another rule?

  Doyle sniffed the air. "I smell peaches." He smirked a t Bram. "You trying out a new perfume?"

  I cringed at the memory of putting on peach-scented lotion that morning.

  Bram threw out a phony laugh. "No, I was out of shampoo, so I had to use my mother's."

  Doyle nodded, but I wasn't sure if he believed him. The room became so silent, I was almost certain that Doyle could hear me breathing. Finally, he spoke. "Bram, believe it or not, you are a very influential person here in Farrington. The young men look up to you, the girls love you."

  Bram shrugged. "I do what I can."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Anyway," Doyle continued. "That being said, I have a very important proposition for you. It will require a lot, but trust me, the benefits will be well worth it."

  A knot that had formed in my throat earlier now dropped to my stomach.

  Bram eyed Doyle suspiciously. "Yeah? What kind of proposition?"

  Doyle took a deep breath. "You are not to repeat this to anyone. Anyone. Not your parents. Not your best friend. No one. Understood?"

  Bram nodded. "Yes."

  "I want you to come to the Outskirts for an experiment."

  Bram scowled. "The Outskirts? Where the rats live? Are you crazy?"

  "Hear me out. I want you to think about your lif
e and how you want to live it. You have five hundred and sixty-seven years left. That's a lot of time. How do you want to spend it?"

  The knot in my stomach pulled tighter as I noticed the intrigued look on Bram's face. "Go on," he urged.

  "What I'm offering you is priceless. The chance to actually live." Doyle paused and stroked his beard. "Imagine this, Bram. Being able to live in a world where you're not confined to the many rules of being a Grim. You don't have Dunningham lording over you like a dictator. You can do whatever you want. Marry whomever you want. Have all the riches your heart can desire."

  Bram leaned forward on the edge of his bed. He was eating this up. A chance at freedom was very tempting to a Grim who hated rules. I wanted to come out of the closet and yell for Doyle to leave. He was going to get Bram killed with this nonsense.

  Bram's look of interest turned to one of suspicion. "What do I have to do for this freedom?"

  "I can explain it to you better on the Outskirts. You don't have to make a decision now. You can make up your mind once we get there." Doyle stood and adjusted the jacket of his suit. "Remember what I said, do not tell anyone about this. This can be the beginning of something great for all Grims and it can start with you. Think about it." He shook Bram's hand and let himself out of the bedroom.

  When the coast was clear, I emerged from the closet. Bram sat on his bed with his head in his hands.

  "Bram, please don't tell me you're thinking of getting caught up in this. It could be a trap."

  Bram nodded. "I know, I know. But I'm going to hear him out. Maybe there is something out there better than this."

  I sat beside him on the bed again. "What do you mean? Better than what?"

  "Than this," Bram said, gesturing around the room with his hands. "Following these stupid rules and doing what everyone else is doing and having the same life that everyone else has. Keira, I'm about to marry a girl I barely know , and I'm going to be tied to her for life, whether either of us likes it or not. Naomi ruined our chances of ever making it to the Upper Estates. If I can't live there, I'm willing to at least listen to Doyle."