Such A Secret Place (Stolen Tears Book 1)

by Cortney Pearson

  The shirt hangs from my shoulders like a sack and bags around my waist. I feel like a balloon. I open myself to him like a scarecrow and bend my head to the side.

  His mouth crooks upward. “Hang on,” he says, rummaging in his pack. “Turn around.”

  The fabric pulls tight against my waist and shoulders.

  “What did you do?” I ask.

  “Safety pins.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  “Now you don’t look quite so conspicuous.”

  “Not the compliment a girl usually goes for. Aren’t they going to notice your patch-up job?” I angle a thumb toward my back.

  “Not if you’re wearing a sleeping bag on your pack.” Talon unties one of the two wads from the top of his, readjusts the straps, and nestles it into mine. He scrutinizes my look, hands on his hips.

  “Not bad,” he says, giving me a smile. “Oh, and Ambry?” He clears his throat. “You’re going to have to wear this.”

  He pulls a familiar skeletal, three-pronged claw from his bag.

  My hands go up. “Nu-uh. No way. Deal’s off.”

  “You don’t have to use it,” he says, tucking a hand in my belt and reeling me to him. Deftly, he clamps the claw into place.

  The Xian is lighter than I expect. I refuse to touch it, though it taps my thigh with every move I make. “I never thought I’d wear one of these. Why do you even have this stuff?”

  Talon ignores my question. “Now listen. If they ask, you traveled on foot from a raid in Hyerton. You lost track of your brigade while incriminating a rogue member of Black Vault—”

  “Wait, what?” My breath escalates clear up to my eyes, leaving blank spots. “Where are you in all of this?”

  He wants me to walk up there, to the Arcs, dressed like an Arc, and convince them to just let me in? Without him?

  “I told you. I can’t be seen. I don’t have an ice cube’s chance in an oven of getting through without one—” He holds up a finger and my stomach burns with the memory of the first night I met him, the first time I saw the gesture. “—creating a scene, or two, us both getting caught.” A second finger goes up. My mouth twitches. “Neither of which I want.”

  “So what’s your big plan?” I ask. “Won’t they recognize me, too?” That lady with the whimpering baby sure had.

  He bends and wads up my jeans and purple shirt, stuffing them into his pack. “Not if you pull your hair back tight and put dirt on your face. Even if they recognize your face, you’re wearing the garb. They’ll probably just think you’re a new recruit.”

  “Probably?”

  “Hopefully.”

  “Hmm.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” he says. “I’m not sure how else to do this without both of us being taken. And if something does happen to you, this way I’ll be able to get you out. If we stay together, I’m as trapped as you’d be.”

  “But they’ll take us to the Triad, right?” I can’t help the smile that spreads. “They’ll take us right to the tears!”

  Talon’s face is solemn. Any excitement I still have quickly deflates. “I doubt we’d live that long,” he says.

  “Oh.” My head goes hazy for a small moment. “What are you going to do?”

  “I think I’ll bum a ride with that news crew.” Talon points toward a white van with a magical conduit dish poking out on top. It’s one of the only moving vehicles among the bulk of wanderers.

  “Why can’t we both go with them?”

  His eyes are liquid, and they catch me off guard. “I wish we could,” he murmurs. “I wish there was another way, but I’m going to catch a ride…” He pauses. My glance darts around. “Below the van.”

  “Oh.”

  I try to comprehend the amount of strength it will take for him to hold himself up against the coiling undercarriage for that long. He’s right. This is the only way. My face is plastered all over the news along with his. No doubt the Arcaians will recognize me in my regular clothes.

  I draw my hair into a ponytail. Then, taking my water bottle, I pour water on my hands and dab dirt on my face.

  “Once you’re in, I’ll meet you at the fountain,” Talon instructs, hands on his hips.

  “I’ve never been here, remember?” I swig a long drink of warm water.

  “Plaisir Fountain. It’s close to the shopping hall and the theaters, just off the thruway entrance.”

  I nod, still unsure.

  “Yeah, but what happens if…” I trail off at the resolute look on his face. The expression holds nothing but confidence.

  “It won’t,” he promises. Slowly, subtly, his eyes move down to my mouth and up again.

  “You can do this,” he finishes, his voice husky. Then he darts up, joining the crowd beside the white van, casually blending in as if he’s been there the whole time.

  My heart pounds. I can do this. With heavy breaths, I run over Talon’s instructions and the script he gave me.

  I did a raid in the brigade with a rogue that went to…somewhere…something about Black Vault. In Hyerton. The brigade was rogue in the—ugh, vreck it, Talon! I peer through the vehicle’s windows, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

  I have to move. Adjusting my ridiculous clothes, cringing at the Xian claw, I trudge forward, forcing my head high.

  Hard as I try, I can’t figure out what Talon is doing with an Arcaian uniform. He seems the type of guy to just keep one on hand, to parade around with them as if he belongs.

  I seem to have left my brain behind, back at the abandoned vehicle. I gain on everyone else in line—an Arc wouldn’t wait. People shirk away from me, some mumbling, most looking away or not noticing me at all. I suck in a huge breath, though it doesn’t slow my heart. It’s fooling them. Hopefully it will work on the Arcs, too.

  I rack my brains again, but I cannot summon the exact words Talon used. I was too focused on the clothes. I’m not sure—maybe I can get away with just walking past them. Not saying anything.

  The crawling in my ribcage magnifies. My tears hum faster against the ridges of my spine like someone scraping along its ridges with a stick. The nearest Arc is blond, and he has his back to me, speaking to a frail-looking woman with thin hair and saggy eyes.

  I’m all nerves, but I trudge past under the cover of his turned back. Everything in me wants to glance around, see if anyone noticed the only Arc with rolled-up pants and wearing a pack on her back. But I force my steps through the city gates.

  Houses and small businesses speckle the empty street. Litter lines the gutters. Homes look neglected—no children loiter around the steps, heads down, looking aimless and unfeeling. Alarms peal in the distance. The smell of food from a nearby restaurant floats on a soft breeze. All sounds and smells I haven’t experienced in weeks of camping and training.

  Finally, I allow myself to look back. The few Arcs in my view through the open gate face outward toward the refugees.

  A smile spreads on my face, and my lungs expand. I did it. I can’t believe it. They bought it, and I strolled right through their blockade. Not one of them even blinked at me. Now to find that fountain.

  “Hey!”

  A female soldier with blonde hair pulled back into a tight braid spots me. Several other soldiers peer back, but the female breaks from the line-up and runs in my direction.

  “Identify yourself!”

  My heart rams into my ribs. I bolt in what I hope is the direction of the thruway entrance and the shopping hall—an overpass.

  I near the bridge, away from the edges of the city, but she catches up to me and yanks my arm. I slip off my pack and, on instinct, spin toward her. My limbs take over, and before my brain can even analyze what I’m doing, magic becomes my blood, pulsing like a life force in my marrow.

  The grass bubbles, undulating like waves around my feet until dirt pushes its way up through the sod and roils in a circle around us. Her face strains as my arms block everywhere her fists try to land. I’m too quick for her. In a fell swoop my fingers snag her wri
st. I twist her arm, hear her shoulder pop. Her body bends in reaction, and I drive my knee into her stomach.

  She coughs and whimpers, falls to the seething earth. All at once the ground settles, dirt and grass land in clumps as if dropped from a height. My entire body seems to breathe. I wipe sweat from my temple as the rush fades and reality takes its place. She’s crumpled on the now sleeping earth, her arm bent at a strange angle.

  A twinge of disgust rifles through me. I just did that to her. I wait for the strain I’ve always been told comes with using that much magic, for the exhaustion I felt after I accidentally attacked those deserters. But it doesn’t come.

  I step back and nearly trip on my pack. Training with Talon is one thing, but fighting someone else—hurting someone else… I never expected to feel so guilty. At least Talon and I weren’t caught, I tell myself. Who knows what this Arc would have done to me if she had the chance.

  I look away. Only, the Arcs in the near distance aren’t in their formation as I expect. At least five of them are headed in my direction.

  Fear cements in, blocking whatever magical instinct took over moments before. I force my fingers to the ridge-handed position Talon showed me, trying to replay what it is I just did. I can do it again, I tell myself, though I’m fairly certain I left all amounts of bravery at the female soldier’s body.

  A man with dark brown hair and protruding eyes makes straight for me. I duck away, averting his reach, only to find myself snared by two other soldiers whose faces I can’t see.

  "No!” I shout, trying to peer behind me. If Talon made it into the city, I don’t see him. I fight and try to wiggle free. He will be waiting at that fountain. What will he do when I don’t show?

  They haul me away so quickly I can’t even place my feet. My boots drag serpentine-like on the street, past the squat buildings with boxy architecture. Bulgy Eyes rams me into a large gray truck and climbs in. He speaks into an aud held to his ear. Purple magic fizzles around his grip.

  “It’s her,” he says, glancing back at me and grinning. “We’ve got her. Yeah, tried to sneak into the city disguised. The uniform is probably Haraway’s.” My stomach knots. Part of me wants Talon to find me. And the other doesn’t want him to try.

  A cavalcade of four escorts me deeper into the city. Tents spread out across an open field near a large collection of debris, as if several buildings have been recently demolished. A handful of Arcs meander here and there—I keep my eyes peeled for any sign of Ren, but no one holds any resemblance.

  A large, white cylindrical building sits in the center of the tents, with a sign labeling it as The Station. Several stories high, the building’s surface is stark and smooth, white at the base and along the roof. Large panes of transparent glass line the bottom so a person can see directly through to the tents collecting on the building’s opposite side.

  My captor pulls up beside a brick barracks about fifty feet from the white, central building and yanks me out. He shoves me through the door while the other Arcs file in behind.

  The barracks is small and single-roomed, as if it’s set up as someone’s personal office. A sick feeling in my gut tells me who that someone is.

  “We’ll hold her til you get here,” Bulgy Eyes finishes, closing out the sunshine along with any hope of escape. He lowers his aud, and his eyes scan over me. I groan. “No wonder Talon’s got it bad for you,” he says with a gravelly voice. He turns to his friends. “Easy on the eyes, ain’t she?”

  The two holding me snigger. The younger one with red hair doesn’t. He guards the door, head bent toward the cement floor.

  A lump rises in my throat. I peer around for something, anything I can use as a weapon. But aside from a desk, a hastily made bed and a duffle bag, there’s nothing but the five of us and the single door. Not even a window.

  “It ain’t right, though. Outsiders shouldn’t wear that uniform.” Bulgy Eyes’ lids half-close and steps toward me. “Guess I’ll have to help you take it off.”

  “Touch me and you die,” I say, very aware of how firm the other soldiers’ grips are on my arms. My magic surfaces like a tiger sniffing the air.

  Bulgy Eyes laughs and reaches a thick hand toward the buttons at my neck. Magic flares and lashes out. My instinct is back. Using the two men’s grips, I support my weight on them and lift my legs, kicking Bulgy Eyes directly in the throat.

  He doubles over coughing and gasping for breath that isn’t there. In seconds he’s motionless. Oh angels. Even though he probably deserves it, I hope I didn’t kill him. I really need more training.

  The grips at my arms slacken, and I take the chance to shake free just as the door slams open and Tyrus Blinnsdale strolls in, mustache and all.

  “Out,” Tyrus orders. The men obey, dragging Bulgy Eyes with them. The man-sweat stench lingers. “Where’s your friend, Ambry?” Tyrus asks without any preliminaries. Perspiration beads around the line of his black hair.

  I lift my chin. Even if I knew where Talon is, I wouldn’t tell him. And besides, my question is more important.

  “Where is my brother?”

  “Cadet Csille has given us quite a bit of trouble,” Tyrus says. “Not unlike yourself. Speaking of which, you have something I want. You’re not leaving this room until I get Talon’s location.”

  The words revitalize me. Ren is alive. And not only that, but he’s giving them trouble.

  “In case you haven’t noticed, Talon doesn’t fit in my pocket,” I say through clenched teeth.

  An evil glint lands in his eyes. “Something else does though, doesn’t it?”

  Sure, he had to bring that up. Just like in that basement, I’m trapped. I back toward the wall until my heels collide. Even if I get out, the place is probably surrounded by soldiers.

  “Too bad you’ve lost them,” he finishes.

  “Is that supposed to motivate me into helping you? I’m not telling you anything.”

  A bold knock at the door stops Tyrus from edging any closer. The boy with red hair peeks his head in. He looks to be about Talon’s age, maybe a year or two older. Though he’s lankier than Talon, muscles sculpt along his pale skin as well.

  “Excuse me, sir, but there’s commotion at the front lines. They say it’s Haraway.”

  I scrutinize the open door. I could run for it, assuming I can get past Tyrus. I wish I had some idea where Ren is. If these guys really have Talon, I’m going to need his help to get us all out of here.

  “Excellent,” Tyrus says, turning toward the exit. “Don’t let her out of your sight,” he adds before slamming the door shut behind him.

  The redhead whirls at me. My fists shoot up, ready to defend. The tears chirp as if egging me on.

  “Go ahead. Hit me,” he says. “Quick.” Then he squints his eyes so they’re just wrinkly slits.

  “What?”

  His face turns red, and he pops an eye open. “Talon’s waiting. Hurry.”

  “I—I can’t…” Is it a diversion?

  “Not too hard, just enough to bruise.”

  “But—”

  His eyes fire open in exasperation. His pale cheeks blotch with crimson. “Are you Ren’s sister or not? Hit me!”

  My brother’s name flares in my ears, and I cringe before socking the soldier in the face. My knuckles throb for several seconds. He stumbles back, hands at his cheek.

  “Now get out of here,” he says, more muffled this time, before staggering and placing himself on the floor as if he was knocked out.

  But I can’t just leave.

  “Where is he?” I ask, my heart knotting. “Is Ren here?”

  The kid’s forehead creases. His eye is already starting to swell. “Are you crazy?” he asks, wincing. “Get out of here!”

  I flounder. I want to ask him more, but he’s right. Tyrus could be back any minute.

  I yank open the heavy door, and the sunlight dazzles me. Soldiers gather at the other end of the street. Though a few gaze in my direction, no one seems to find anything amiss.
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  I dart toward the back of the barracks. Great, I’m out. Now what?

  Chest hammering, I hurry through the debris, through the homes along the street, eyeing a large building that looks like a three-level school in the distance. More homes spread up the hillside, but I don’t see any sign of the overpass or a shopping center. I don’t know where to go.

  Footsteps thunder in my direction, growing louder. I close my eyes and sink back against the brick wall, wishing I could blend in with it. I hold my breath, hoping whoever it is doesn’t see me, that they’ll pass. With a jolt, I realize I lost my pack back at the overpass—Talon’s safety pin patch-up job at my back is more than noticeable. I half wonder if I shouldn’t retrace my steps, go find that fountain.

  The steps near. I can’t just stand here, waiting to get captured again. Adrenaline feeds me, and I break for it, only to smack straight into someone’s chest. A hand covers my mouth, not even giving me time to scream.

  "Quiet,” says a familiar voice in my ear. “It’s me.” I breathe in the rough smell of leather until he slowly lowers his gloved hand.

  I want to throw my arms around Talon, to ask how he found me, how he got that kid to let me out. But right now I’m more concerned about Ren.

  “My brother is here,” I mutter. “Tyrus told me so. This is our chance!”

  Talon barely looks at me as I speak. I follow the line of his jaw as he studies the cylindrical white building, the clusters of soldiers here and there, the few moving in pairs along the grass.

  I have more of a chance to see the interior from here. There’s no furniture inside. Two doors can be seen through the glass. An exit/entrance, and a door leading to a small room also behind glass.

  “What is that?” he asks.

  “You mean you’ve never seen it? I thought you used to live here.”

  Talon still doesn’t look at me. “That Station wasn’t here when I left a few months ago.”

  He acts as though he wants to investigate. I pull his shirt in my fists.

  “Did you hear me? My brother, Talon. Let’s go find him!”

  This shakes sense into him. “Too dangerous. Even if we knew where he was, we’d never be able to get him out.”