At the dark remnants of her ruined city.
I veer the craft as best as I can as we half-glide, half-plummet
toward the skeletal structures looming before us like the corpses of long-dead behemoths. “Hang on!”
Most of the city is half-submerged in the dark waters. Massive structures whiz by us in a blur of broken concrete and twisted metal. The streets that aren’t completely submerged are cracked and broken by craters, jammed with all manner of rusting vehicles.
The tallest building I’ve ever seen is directly in our path, getting closer by the second. Our only chance is to eject. Unhooking my restraints, I lunge for the overhead compartment. There’s only one glider chute. As much as I hate what he did to me, I can’t bring myself to leave Digory to his death. Not without answers. Wasting no time, I strap on the chute and make sure the rucksack is still strapped to my body. “Digory! Let’s go! ”
Remaining silent, he springs to my side—lithe, like a creature acting on instinct rather than a comprehension of my words—and grabs me tight.
I jam my fist into the control panel. The escape hatch blows open and we’re sucked out, tumbling into thin air. Behind us, the Squawker slams into the building and ignites in a fireball.
I can feel the heat singeing my skin as I pull the rip cord. The glider’s wings spring forward, halting our descent with a jolt.
Just ahead, a large canopy of trees covers a vast area, a mossy shroud shielding the area from prying eyes.
We crash through the underbrush. Branches scratch my face and hands, snapping and cracking all around us. Then our bodies slam into something solid and rough. The bark of a tree.
I feel lightheaded and disoriented. My body is swaying upside down, dangling from the remnants of the glide chute. We’re lodged in the branches of a massive tree, the long, tangled limbs writhing in the gusts of chilled wind.
It takes me a few moments to get my bearings.
A low purr from below vibrates through the air. My skin erupts into gooseflesh. Two glowing yellow eyes are staring up at me, attached to a sinewy, fur-lined shape as dark as shadow. Some kind of felis, but larger than I’ve ever seen before. Sharp claws glisten in the moonlight. Its muscled legs flex, and its body coils as it prepares to spring.
It leaps for me. My body tenses as I try to curl up and away. I’m just out of its range, but the tip of its huge paw grazes my shoulder, tearing a gash through it. The pain is searing, but not as potent as the fear of what it would feel like to get eaten alive.
The branches above me snap with a loud crack and the glide chute drops another foot, putting me into the creature’s range. It lets out an ear-shattering growl, ready to spring again.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Digory spring past me to the ground. He grabs the creature in a headlock with one arm. In his other hand, he’s clutching a long stone shard, which he drives halfway into the animal’s skull.
Rip!
When he tears it out, it’s dripping with blood, splattering darkness all over his heaving bare chest.
Digory lets out an unearthly sound—part anguish, part guttural savage—that prickles every inch of my skin. The way the moonlight catches his eyes, they seem to glow, too, just like the creature’s.
Snap!
The glider crashes through the tree and I drop—
twenty-seven
Light.
My eyelids feel like a burden as I struggle to finally pry them open. I squint against the dawn’s first rays, streaks of pink and yellow stretching tentatively over the fresh canvas of a new day. Unlike the unseasonably long and harsh winter in the Parish, it seems that cold has never touched this place. The ground feels firm, but soft. I’m lying on a bed of lush overgrown grass, covered from my chest to my feet in a blanket of leaves that keeps me snug. I can taste the remnants of some sweet nectar on my tongue. My hair feels damp and my skin tingles, as if I’ve been freshly bathed. My fingers trace the cuts on my body and come away with sticky warmth. I sniff. Crushed plants. An herbal remedy, applied to my wounds like a salve.
The smile on my lips fades. Where’s Digory?
I sit up too fast. I’m still feeling a little lightheaded and woozy. My leg bumps against the rucksack Valerian gave me. What was it she said when she insisted I take back the ID tags and Digory’s holo?
When you get out of this, you’ll thank me.
Digging into the rucksack, I pull out the holocam and stare hard at it for what seems like forever before hitting the activation button.
The air in front of the device shimmers and the holo of Digory appears, still wearing that cold grin he had when he was addressing Cassius. “Tycho signing off,” he announces. Then he leans in close to the screen, as if hitting an unseen switch, and the window with Cassius’s image disappears.
The moment that happens, Digory slumps back against his chair and lets out a long sigh. His face loses that hard edge, and once again he’s the Digory I’ve always known.
Except now he looks worried. He leans forward, his face practically pressing against the holocam’s lens. “If I don’t make it back today, I want … I need someone to know—Rafé, Cage, Jeptha, all of you—that I never betrayed you. I’ve been on a rogue mission, making the new Prefect believe I’m a mole within the rebellion. I’m trying to gain his confidence, and gain access to Establishment intelligence in the process.”
So Digory never did betray the rebellion. He never betrayed me. Why couldn’t I have had faith in the love we had for each other?
I never deserved him.
The holo of Digory is talking faster now. “I’ve stumbled on something called the Sowing Protocol. Whatever it is, it’s dangerous. I think it’ll crush the rebellion if we can’t stop it. I’ll try to learn what I can and report back. But I’ve got the feeling Thorn is on to me.” His face softens. “If I’m right, and my cover’s blown, please do me one last favor and look out for Lucian Spark. He’s … he’s a good guy. And I think he and his brother are in some kind of danger from Thorn. Promise me you’ll take them under your protection, keep them safe.”
The holo goes out of focus for a moment, but it has nothing to do with the device.
“If I don’t see any of you again, it’s been an honor to serve the cause with you.” Digory smiles, but I can see how nervous he is. “I’m going to hide this in my quarters when I’m done. Until then, this is Digory Tycho. Down with the Establishment. Protect your families.”
The image flickers, then fades away, replaced by an endless stream of static.
That’s it. Recording over. I shut it off and stuff it back into the rucksack, even as I place the ID tags around my neck once again.
I was so wrong.
The joints in my knees creak and pop as I haul myself to my feet and take a few steps, my bare soles crunching the leaves beneath them.
I cup my hands to my mouth. “Digory! Where are you? ”
Trudging deeper into the lush pockets of pink and purple flowers, I hear a sound up ahead. A gurgling sound.
Water.
With both hands, I part a soft curtain of hanging moss.
And there he is.
I let out the breath I’ve been holding, drunk with relief.
Digory is sitting on the remnants of a small stone bridge, bare-chested, his feet dangling in the water and his long damp hair draped over his shoulders. His eyes are intent on the shimmering brook just below him.
Breathing deep, I wade through the tall blades of grass toward him, fighting a limp, drawing strength from his glowing form. I stop just behind him.
Suddenly, I’m afraid, in spite of all the horrors I’ve endured up until now.
He whips around to face me, and it’s like looking at the sun, a sight so brilliant and warm yet painful all at once.
I freeze. I’ve been seeing him in my dreams for so long that it still feel
s so surreal to be standing just a few feet from him again. Maybe it’s my mind playing tricks on me, but along with the glint of recognition in his eyes, I sense so much more—fear? Suspicion?
Anger?
I turn away, focusing on the rippling stream shimmering beneath us. “Thanks for the bed. And tending to my wounds. I didn’t see you when I woke up. I thought … ” My words trail away with the current.
Digory still remains silent and I sit down beside him.
“I tried so hard to get back to you. But I thought that you were dead, that it was too late … and then I saw that holo recording.” I choke back my anguish, needing to get my words out. “I should never have given up on you.”
Pivoting, I sit cross-legged, facing him, and force myself to look directly at him. “You haven’t said a word to me. I understand, Digory. I won’t hold you to anything we might have said in the past.” We gaze into each other’s eyes in silence, the sound of our breaths harmonizing.
Taking a deep breath and steeling my nerves, I touch his warm, dewy skin. My fingertips graze the contours of his biceps, which, even relaxed, feels like granite, and then work their way to the inside of his elbow.
Digory flinches, and I instantly regret letting my feelings get the best of me. He can’t even stand my touch any longer. I feel sick and start to pull away.
But his hand grabs mine and presses it back against the hotness of his skin. I can feel the scabbing in the crook of his elbow. I lean in closer. The entire area is mottled with dark purple bruises, the smooth skin broken by needle marks. I examine his other arm and see the same thing.
It wasn’t me he was recoiling from.
Ignoring the aches of my own battered body, I sink into him, relishing the heat of his body in the chilled air, my face pressed against the expanse of his chest. All I can hear is the sound of thunderous beating, and I can’t distinguish between his heart or mine.
I look into his eyes.
He leans in close, his warm lips grazing against mine, igniting every nerve ending, even more wondrous than I remember.
Our mouths lock onto each other’s, tongues exploring, tentatively at first … I taste that same sweet nectar on his breath. It feels like I’ve left my body and I’m floating. All the aching, all the pain, both physical and mental, dissolves in that kiss, a sanctuary against all the darkness that’s engulfed my life for so long.
Soon we’re rolling in the still-damp grass. What little clothing we’re wearing is tossed aside as limbs intertwine, our hands and hearts eager with discovery.
He lets out a small cry. I look up in alarm. But his face is pure bliss.
His arms pull me into him. Then he’s planting more warm kisses on my lips. His tongue feels like heavenly fire as it traces down my neck, across the contours of my chest, and beyond.
At that moment, it doesn’t matter that he can’t speak. His eyes tell me how he feels.
“Me too,” I whisper.
After what seems like hours, we collapse against one another, slick with sweat, nestling in each other’s arms. I can feel Digory’s smile against my cheek. Soon, the sounds of his breathing and the steady rhythm of his heart against me lull me into the most wonderfully exhausting grogginess ever. I allow myself to drift into sleep, never wanting to wake from this dream.
Ever.
Hours later, we’re still lying on our makeshift bed of grass, Digory spooning his body against mine. He fingers the Recruit ID tags I’m wearing, nuzzling his lips against my neck. I take off the ID tag with my name on it and slip it around his neck, so that we both have one, then give him another kiss.
I smile and silently vow to give Valerian the biggest hug and kiss if I ever see her again.
Digory sits up beside me, his eyes wide. He looks around with that almost animal-like instinct, as if he’s reaching out with his senses and making sure there’s no danger around us.
I give him a peck on the forehead and hug him close. “There’s so much that you don’t know.”
Then I’m telling him everything. My training as an Imposer. Cole being housed in the Priory under Delvecchio’s eye. The failed assassination attempt against Cassius and Prime Minister Talon. Our exile to Infiernos and imprisonment in Purgatorium. Everything leading up to our reunion.
Even though he remains mute and I can’t be sure how much he understands, I can tell he’s hanging on to my every word, grasping the urgency of what I’m saying, if not the specifics. Whatever’s been done to him that’s traumatized him into silence, there’s still that compassionate, gentle Digory brimming underneath.
He’ll speak when he’s ready, when he’s healed—as much as he ever can be.
He wraps his arms tighter around me and I pull away just enough to stare into his eyes. “You know Cage, Tristin, Dru, and Corin, don’t you?” I ask tentatively. “You were part of the same rebel cell, weren’t you? They were your friends.”
He sighs and his fingers interlock with mine. His lips purse and he finally nods.
Of course he’s hesitant. After what he gave up for me during that last trial, sacrificing his husband, Rafé—and his entire cause—just so I could get to Cole. The mention of his old allies must be painful. Especially since a part of him might feel guilty for choosing to save Cole’s life with so many other things at stake.
“I know you feel you betrayed the rebellion, turned your back on what you were fighting for, all because of me. But I’m sure your friends would understand and welcome you back. They need you.” I squeeze his hands. “I need you. We all do.”
He nuzzles my nose.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” I whisper into his ear. “I should have looked for you. When you wouldn’t speak to me after we found each other, I was afraid you hated me for leaving you behind—”
He touches a finger to my lips, capturing my eyes with his own blue prisms. Then he shakes his head slowly. His eyes glisten with moisture. He rests his head on my chest and I squeeze him tightly.
Digory’s hands caress my body, reawakening those sensations, sending the blood rushing to every part of me. His fingers trace the contours of my pectorals, squeezing. When he looks up, his eyes twinkle at me.
I can’t help but smile. “Yeah, I have been working out a little since the last time you saw me. I’m not that scrawny, naïve kid anymore.”
The glint in his eye turns to concern. He sits up. With his index finger he traces a shape in the earth. A crude figure of a man. When he’s done, he points at the sketch, then back at me.
“I’ve looked better.” I chuckle.
But he’s already drawing another shape next to the one representing me. A smaller one.
A child.
He draws a line connecting their hands.
The smile fades from my lips. He knows me too well.
Digory looks up and motions to me, then to himself, before his finger settles on the horizon.
I wipe my eyes. “We have a long journey ahead of us.”
twenty-eight
The sun burns high overhead as we finish a refreshing swim in the stream—wrestling around, splashing, taking turns dunking each other as if we were children, until we reluctantly get dressed.
Digory scampers up countless trees, using his bare feet and hands with such agility and grace, he’s almost a blur as he propels himself up and through the dense foliage. Even with all the Imp training I’ve undergone over the past year, I can barely keep up with him as I run alongside on the ground, pointing out which berries he should pluck that might be edible based on a few birds pecking at them.
Eventually he drops to the ground in front of me, scooping me over his shoulder while I make a feeble attempt at protest. We finally settle under the shade of an enormous magnolia tree, where he insists on feeding me himself as I rest my head on his lap.
“Mmm.” My mouth waters when my teeth
sink into the succulent fruit. Sugary nectar drips from the corners of my mouth. “Thith ith delithus.”
Digory lifts my head and kisses me.
I kiss him back. “I wish we could stay here forever,” I murmur. “Just the two of us. But right now we have to figure out how to get out of here and back to the Parish.” I force myself to push away.
But I have no clue what direction to go in, or how to get back to Cole. The transceiver I’d hoped to use to communicate with Cage and the others was damaged in the glider crash and I don’t have the tools to repair it. I can only hope they made it out okay.
I stand and offer Digory my hand, savoring the way the muscles in his arm swell as he stretches and reaches for it. Then I’m relishing the feel of his hand in mine as I pull him to his feet.
Our fingers remain entwined like the roots of one of these ancient trees, infusing me with strength. My eyes scan the lush foliage. “What do you suppose this forest is doing, right in the middle of a ruined city?”
Through a gap in the leafy awning shading us, I glimpse several of those enormous buildings, or at least what’s left of them, far off in the distance, specters lurking in the mist.
And a plume of dark smoke billowing into the air between them.
“Look!” I point.
Digory’s eyes, narrowed to slits, are already glued to the site.
“Could be other survivors from Infiernos,” I say. Then another thought hits me. “Or maybe there’s something living here.”
Clutching each other’s hands tighter, we trudge off in the direction of the curling blackness.
Once we leave the clearing, our pathway toward the smoke weaves through ever-thickening underbrush, which grows so dense at times that we can barely see a few feet beyond it. Soon both our arms and legs are covered with thin scratches from the whipping branches and waist-high grass.
More than once we stumble over protrusions jutting from the ground. At one point, my foot hits something and I trip, almost nose-diving. But Digory grabs my arm and holds me steady.
The Sowing (The Torch Keeper) Page 22
