Wild Hunt (The Island Book 2)

by C. M. Estopare

  Stone-breathed wafted past, petrifying some tendrils of her hair. The tendrils crumbled off into dust as Ren crawled through the hole and vaulted into the world on the other side.

  A bustling sea of pastel-clothed people met her. Along with the hawking screech of island speak and the cacophonous drone of a million conversations buzzing in unison. She charged into the crowd, melting in like a pebble among a sea of sand. Somewhere along the wall, the cockatrice belted out a siren-like screech.

  And overhead, a shadow flew. Accompanied by the mechanical whirring of blades.

  9

  The mechanical chopping cut through everything. The buzzing drone of the midmorning crowd, the splintering cries of street sellers and entertainers; everything died when an elongated shadow stretched over the entire district.

  Ren looked up. Helicopters flew past, kicking up dirt and dust and earth. Mechanical wind picked up her hair and clothes, doing the same to the surrounded crowd as everyone gawped and stared up at the sky. White sunlight skirted off of the lumbering steel monstrosity as one helicopter became two. The clapping of rotary blades slammed into Ren’s eardrums like cymbals clamping down. She couldn’t close her ears though, she couldn’t take her eyes off of the flying machines.

  Paper fell from their open doors. Fluttering white leaflets fell like East Coast snow, falling to the ground in a dance of black on white. Three sheets became thousands. Thousands evolved into millions, all swirling toward the ground as the helicopters kept going forward, spraying the city in white leaflets as they went.

  Was Morgan Black behind this?

  Who else have flying machines on the Island, Renata?

  Leaflets flooding the ground were picked up, gazed at. Finally freed from fear’s chokehold, some Vost let out horrifying shrieks before shoving through the crowd for home. Children cried. People spoke amongst themselves, staring at the leaflets with undisguised shock.

  Ren followed suit, picking up her own piece of laminated paper. She let her tense muscles go as she clenched it in her good hand and sighed, her face angled toward the sky.

  What now?

  She brought it up. Titled her head and eyed it with a crazed smile gradually stretching her face.

  Not flattering at all, is it? Nakato said with a gasp.

  How the fuck…

  It was a portrait of Ren. Staring back on that laminated leaflet, her mouth twisted at a weird freaking angle. Had someone taken a photo of her drunk off her ass? Holy fuck. One eye was completely open, the other slightly closed. Like she had forgotten how to fucking blink.

  Her grandfather. She could blame her grandfather for this. Crinkling the paper in her balled up fist, her cheeks boiled with rage.

  It reads, MISSING. The island isn’t that large.

  Nakato was right. Beneath her portrait, her grandfather had sprawled a huge, “MISSING.” But she wasn’t. He knew exactly where she was. And, somehow, he knew exactly where to drop these.

  The hairs on Ren’s forearms rose. She scanned the lengthening space around her. The crowd was backing away. Some people pointed, eyes scanning the photo before pinning them on her. Other heads cocked, eyes glowering at her. They were all staring at her. There were so many damned eyes.

  A different type of heat rushed onto Ren’s cheeks. She slowly raised a shaky hand, “Uh…hi.”

  Voices called out. A man lifted his finger and screamed at her, pointing frantically at the sky. The helicopters were gone, flying away as fleeting pinpoints of black with little specks of white falling out their open doors. Ren watched, shooting stabs of pain vibrating up her jaw as she clenched it too hard.

  She needed to get out of here.

  The crowd moved backward, keeping at least an arm’s distance away, as she began to creep forward.

  Okay, plan: Get a crystal. Use the lift. Save Kato.

  But how could she do that with all these people staring at her? Some screaming, some pointing, some following her as she moved. These people have never seen helicopters—flying machines—zip through the sky before. And for Morgan Black’s cronies to have the audacity to drop pictures of her onto their heads—well.

  A shoulder bit into Ren’s chest, and she barely sidestepped it. Crazed eyes met her own as the crowd began to shrink inward, hands reaching through the mass of people to grab onto her. Fingers splayed against her back, her shoulders. Ren growled and plunged through, shoving people out of the way if she had to. There was no way in hell she’d allow these backward-ass people to have her. What would they do to her if they caught her? Sacrifice her? Kick her out of the city? Petrify her?

  A raucous caw ripped through the sky, answering her thoughts.

  Fuck.

  That guardsman from before was still looking for her, and with the crowd gluing itself to her—and the fugly portraits of her falling from the sky—it would be pretty damned easy to spot her.

  Fuuuuuck.

  Nakato scoffed. I still wonder how you murdered me. Oh, yes! I let you, you stupid girl.

  “Now is seriously not the time.” Ren snapped, vaulting forward into a wooden booth displaying passion fruit and honey melons across its broad boards. She slid behind the booth and cowered. Held her breath and scanned the surrounding area as the crowd closed in like zombies out for a midnight snack.

  Her head turned, her shoulders relaxed. An alleyway opened up between two rectangular wooden buildings. It was slick and small—too small for a crowd of ravenous zombie-people to force themselves through. Ren counted to three, dragging her fingers along the ground as a hand grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back. She snatched her shoulder out of the sweaty grip of a young man in a straw hat, the man waving her fugly portrait over her head; and sprinted.

  The alleyway opened up like a blossom—one murky and covered in dusk. A grin stretched across her face as she dove for it. She closed her eyes and tensed her muscles, preparing to break into a roll.

  A hand to the face stopped her.

  10

  Attached to the hand was a face cocked with a titled smirk. Softly curling hair slid down his shoulders like crashing waterfalls.

  The guy was handsome enough, but that didn’t excuse the fact that Ren knew a cop when she saw one.

  Ren stood. Crouched. Fingers splayed and contorting as she thought long and hard about pulling power from the lifeforces around her. She could concentrate on the ground beneath her or the wood lining homes and shops. But she wasn’t that disciplined. If she were Kato she wouldn’t need to worry about accidentally pulling power from the massive crowd holding her in. If she were Kato she would have never gotten into this predicament in the first place.

  If you were me, you wouldn’t worry at all.

  Ren sneered, “That’s because you’re a fucking murderer.”

  I’m sorry, but—aren’t you as well?

  The handsome guard lowered his hand. To his right and left stood two others, almost identical in their boorish brown tunics and leather waist-guards. The guy’s smile didn’t disappear when he spoke, giving her an accusatory glare as he spoke in that Vost version of island speak.

  “I don’t know what you’re saying.” Ren scanned over his shoulder. Content to keep him speaking while she searched for a way out. “I’m not from here.”

  The guy pointed at the sky, “She sends,” then pointed at her, “you. She,” bringing his finger behind him, he looked at her with an over-the-top grin, “wants you.”

  As if that made any damned sense. A confused grin twisted Ren’s lips as she squinted at him, “You can speak English?”

  His brows furrowed and Ren lunged to the right, breaking into a sprint by flinging her arms out and barreling through the crowd like a bullet.

  She snorted as she ran, heart hammering in her throat, constricting her airflow to a light wheeze. Wooden stands lined the square, springing up at odd intervals. She dodged them, rolling to her right and left, as the three guardsmen charged after her. The men flinging aside the crowd as if they were light as tissue paper.
Ren slid between bodies and legs, eyes zeroing in on a large stand with glass boxes resting on top of its boards. She didn’t bother looking behind her as Nakato sighed heavily in her head. Sliding around the long, rectangular, stand, she crawled beneath its massive boards and pulled her knees into her chest.

  One pair of footfalls stomped by, followed by another. The crowd definitely saw her hide—she would bet her soul on that—but for some reason, they weren’t helping the guards out. They just watched.

  Ren flinched as an ear-shattering caw raked through the sky. Was the cockatrice on her too?

  A shadow fell over her and she jumped, bumping the crown of her head against the boards above her. The handsome guard stepped toward her hiding place and crouched down, a two-toned smile contorting his face.

  “Why don’t you stand?”

  His voice was smooth as silk washing over her skin. Her fear of the cockatrice, of the crowd and getting captured and Kato slowly dying in the gorge; faded with a shuddering exhalation. Digging her fingers into her knees, she crawled out from under the boards and stood on shaky legs.

  What are you—what is wrong with you?!

  Nakato’s voice. It was so far away, an echo lost on the warping vestiges of time. Her heart calmed. Her heavy breathing shimmered into a sigh. The guard’s yellow eyes laughed as he twirled his index finger and Ren twirled with it, giving him her back. Something sharp and heavy clamped down on her wrists and her breathing caught in her throat.

  “Hey—uh uh—” but her hands were bound. What in the fuck had just happened? It was like magic had clouded her mind, swooped in and tied her up in a false calm.

  The smoothness of his voice deteriorated. “Don’t struggle.”

  Ren didn’t have any words. If she allowed this guy to take her to—where-ever people whose pictures fell from the sky went—she would lose her chance to use the lift and save Kato. Hell, her entire plan would go up in flames, literally. This guy had used his voice to make her do something. Why wasn’t he using his superpower now?

  Ren stabbed a hard glare over her shoulder. “Let me go. I’ve done nothing wrong.” But it was like throwing water at a kicked bee’s hive. Nothing good would come of her words.

  “She wants you.” He said, this time in a complete and utterly senseless sentence.

  “Who?” Ren spat out as he held her wrists and pushed her forward. The crowd parted like sand. “Who are you taking me to? Who wants to fucking see me?” Because I’m pretty fucking sure that no one knows who the fuck I am in this damned city!

  Nakato clicked her tongue, I have a fairly good idea…

  “Then, tell me!” Ren snapped, rearing up her knee to slam her heel into the junk of the guard behind her.

  She hit something tough. A cup—fuck.

  A low chuckle drifted off of her shoulder as his fingers tightened around her wrist. “Satisfied?”

  Hardly.

  Ren blinked—trying hard to focus on Nakato, the hazy disembodied voice that often gave her useless, and often times detrimental, advice.

  Oh, trust me. You do not want to meet her.

  If Ren could have flung up her hands, she would have. But her wrists were cuffed, her back bent over as she was shoved through the crowd.

  You want to be free, right? You want to go and save my dear Air Scion and live happily-ever-after. Am I correct?

  “Stop fucking stalling.”

  Nakato chuckled darkly. I can help. I can channel my power through you.

  Ren’s eyes widened. The guards crossed her over a bridge, a colossal tower of black graphite and pulsing blue veins coming into view as she was shoved.

  But I must have control over your body. Absolute control.

  Ren snorted—no way in hell would she give this bat-shit insane woman-who-should-be-fucking-dead control over her body.

  If you meet the Paragon, you will not live to see Kato again, stupid girl. That is if he isn’t already dead from your slowness and neglect.

  Dammit. Ren blinked away the anger and frustration that welled up in her chest, squeezing her heart in the hopes of popping it. She had hoped to use that stupid fucking lift, but she needed a crystal or some sort of key. Had she seriously hoped to just magically find it in the city? Even if she got away from these guys, it would take days of searching. Weeks. And she just didn’t have that kind of time.

  Promise you’ll help me find a way down. Quickly.

  Nakato was probably smiling in her head, an impish glare glittering in her sunken eyes. Deal. But only because you would probably kill yourself trying to climb down again. If you die, I die, and I don’t want to go through that again.

  Ren lowered her chin to her chest. Fine.

  The black tower loomed closer, the ground beneath her feet pulsing. Could she trust Nakato? What was she saying? Of course, she couldn’t. The woman was like a damned viper. But if she was her only way of quickly getting down into the abyss—and avoiding the Paragon, whoever that was—then she’d do it. She’d do anything to save Kato.

  Ren steeled herself. I decide when you come out.

  Well, Nakato sighed, decide quickly.

  11

  Two of the guardsmen disappeared as the man holding her wrists led her deeper into the black tower.

  Cathedral, Nakato corrected, and how long are you going to wait? Can I come out now?

  Ren shook her head. Descending down a curving staircase, Ren shivered at the cool licking of black tendrils as Nakato tried to force her way through.

  You’re getting closer and closer, and you just want to wait? Nakato scoffed. I’ve promised to help you find a way down. Now, let me out!

  “Uh uh,” Ren said. “Not yet.”

  The guardsman shook her. “Is something wrong?” he alluded to her head, his deep voice whispering down the plunging staircase.

  Ren shook her head. “Not yet.” She repeated.

  Electric blue lines of color dripped down shiny obsidian walls, the blue mirrored on the black. The lines pulsed with color, the electric blue darkening the farther down they went. Hitting the ground floor, Ren’s sandals slapped against tiles as a frigid wind slipped across her arms and face. Pushing her across a massive vestibule, empty save for towering walls reaching up into a ceiling flooded with blue light; Ren stiffened as he stopped before thick black doors.

  Ren heard voices. Of course, she couldn’t understand them.

  Now, Renata. Let me out now. You do not know what you’re stepping into. That woman—she is worse than me by leagues.

  The guard slid around Ren and threw the door open. The conversation died with a rush of stale wind combing through the large vestibule outside and escaping past her. The guard stiffened at her side, going rigid at the scene.

  The floor before her dipped, the graphite fading away into an enormous circular depression of steel. A thin line separated one side of the steel from the other. Directly across the steel sat a podium made of the same material. It stuck out of the ground like a stunted tree, cut and polished and somehow shiny. Three people surrounded it. One was a woman with her back to them, arms up as a green light flickered from the podium and sailed over her. It scanned her—a scanner? Ren was taken aback—how do they have this?

  Come on. Nakato hurried her. Her back is turned. This is perfect. Just let me out!

  Ren shook her head.

  The green light flickered red. The podium screeched a warning, beeping obnoxiously, before a monotone voice blared from it, “Access denied.”

  The woman’s milky white shoulders lowered, dejected.

  Ren lurched forward as the guardsman shoved her gently, still clinging to her by the cuffs around her wrists. The woman turned in a flurry of velvet capes and silken skirts. A bone-white tiara adorned her pale red hair, her face gaunt and long as she shrugged her hair away from her shoulders and frowned. Forcing it. Frosty eyes bit into Ren’s as the woman’s gaze measured her, flitting back to the guardsman’s within the span of a second.

  She didn’t walk across the bl
ack steel. She didn’t move her hands as she murmured in island speak—the softest voice Ren had ever heard. The guardsman at Ren’s side became heated though, gesticulating with his free hand wildly, words flying a mile a minute as he tried to prove his point. Whatever it was.

  She knows.

  Ren jumped slightly. Knows what?

  Icy eyes relaxed on Ren’s. “Let me apologize.” She spoke perfect English as her frown transformed into a wide smile that threatened to break her pearl-colored face. “My silly guardsman here believes that the sky called you. Or, rather, in his own words, you, ‘fell from the sky.’” She chuckled, her tone condescending as all hell. Ren had to cringe. The heat of embarrassment took hold of her, she felt sorry for the guy at her shoulder.

  “Please, free her Maka.”

  The clasps on Ren’s wrists loosened, falling freely into Maka’s hands.

  “I am so sorry for the headache he has caused you. Please feel free to—”

  Ren wasn’t dealing with any of this diplomatic shit. She strode forward, stepping down onto the steel floor below. A hollow thunk reverberated up her leg as she took another step. “Are you the Paragon?”

  One of the men hovering behind the woman blasted Ren with a string of angry words. Too bad she couldn’t understand him.

  The woman seemed taken aback, her smile shrinking before she stretched it out again. “Yes.” She nodded gracefully, “Paragon Vanda.”

  Why was Nakato so afraid of this woman? Ren moved closer, almost clearing the steel floor. “Have you noticed something strange about your island?” Ren winced internally. Okay, maybe not a good idea. Why not just be blunt as hell?

  If it was possible for the Paragon’s face to go any whiter, Ren wouldn’t have believed it. The woman’s skin almost turned translucent. “Excuse me?”

  Pulling herself out of the steel pit, Ren stood toe to toe with the Paragon. The woman stood two heads taller than her, her shadow swallowing Ren whole. “The Northern Shore has died. The Wilds are in a frenzy. The Great River is in danger from people who want to mine the island for…resources.” The podium buzzed at Ren’s right.