Snow on Cinders (The Tallas Series Book 2)

by Cathrina Constantine

  Zennith’s nostrils flexed uttering a hearty neigh.

  “Sorry, my friend. I’m getting too old for this.”

  Two hours later, swaddled in shadows, Fulvio glanced to a darkening sky; the sun had lowered over the mountain peak. Warming himself over a blazing fire, the tangy smell of burnt horseflesh stung his nostrils as he settled the roasting kettle on a handmade spike.

  “I found a new use for the iron kettle.” His laughter was contained, though humorless. “Sorry, Zennith. My pun was in poor taste, but it performed the job most efficiently, I must say. Your cut has stopped bleeding for now.” The kettle sizzled as he added handfuls of snow and threw in the last of the root vegetables. “Tomorrow we hunt for meat and berries or whatever looks good to the palate, eh, Zennith?”

  The horse was lying on his side in the fire’s light. It looked like it took a lot of effort to lift his head and whinnied in response.

  “How silly of me, I know you don’t eat meat. But I do,” he toned under his breath, stirring the paltry ingredients. “We’ll find you a brilliant patch of grass. How’s that?” He looked to see the horse’s eyes sealed. “Rest heartily, my friend. You’ll need your strength.”

  Fulvio thought of the long trek ahead and his son.

  Doogan was foolhardy and an obstinate cuss of a teenager, not subjecting himself to the restraints of Tallas’s laws. As a man, he’d foiled Management at every curve. Fulvio’s mustache quirked, grinning and realized Doogan was exactly like him. But he didn’t wish to witness him flogged a third time, or worse, dangling from a noose. Thankfully, the weather had put a damper on getting the helio into the air, which bought him time.

  Fulvio would sneak into Tallas, and if all went as planned, which he refused to think otherwise, he’d make it to Goshen’s. Once there, he’d use Goshen’s cellular to call Doogan, and inform him on Paniess’s whereabouts. Whether they could incorporate the helio in a rescue mission or if a strategic plan was needed, Goshen would know what to do. With those thoughts bumping around in his head, he fell asleep.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  “What’s wrong, Tibbles?” Fabal asked. “You’ve been moping around for two days.”

  Lolling on the ground, the bear wagged his head side to side. “Rarraa, rarrrrrr.”

  “It’s cause Fulvio left you behind. I know.” He tunneled his fingers into the bear’s pelt and scratched. “Let’s head over to the river and catch some fish for breakfast.” Then he called over his shoulder, “Knox, wanna come?”

  “I do,” Swan said, running past her brother and digging her heels into the damp earth in front of Fabal. “Anything’s better than having to fetch nails and wood.”

  Knox slogged toward them rubbing his eyes, yawning. “At least you got to sleep in the heliocraft,” he scoffed. “I had to share the truck with Smelt. He snores like a jackhammer.”

  “You think you had it bad. I had to hear gross slurping noises coming from that girl and Gus making out,” Fabal said, and stuck out his tongue in a gagging gesture, “and listening to my parents weird giggling was pathetic. And then there was Ennis sleeping in the pilot’s seat breathing so loud I couldn’t fall asleep either. Once I thought he stopped breathing, and I got up to check, and he snorted in my face and scared the poop out of me.”

  Knox hooted, now appearing fully awake.

  “You two stop complaining.” Swan pulled her golden hair back and tied it into a knot. “I slept with everyone else in that dinky hut they built yesterday. At least it was warm.”

  While they’d been jabbering, Tibbles had ambled away.

  “C’mon. Let’s get going.” Knox looked to where the bear had been lying. “Where’d he go?”

  The children revolved toward the detectable bear wandering toward the river. Without further ado, they scampered after him like frisky bear cubs.

  Smelt added a log to the fire pit, then glanced at harkening rays. “Gonna be a beaut today,” he said to anyone listening. “Hope it dries all these darn puddles.”

  “We’d need a week of sunshine for that,” Keelya responded. She pulled on her hoodie and headed to the wagon for supplies. Her boots mucking it up along the way she waved to Tanya, Garth, and Clayton. “Come on, sleepyheads. Let’s get this party started.”

  “A barn’s on the docket for today,” Garth said, giving her the thumbs-up.

  “We can’t build a barn in one day.” Clayton belted his pants. “Possibly a week or more.”

  “Clayton, stop being a pessimistic dipshit.” Garth amiably shoved his friend’s shoulder. “We’ll get it done.”

  It was pleasing to hear their jibing remarks and felt a smile have its way with her face. The prospect of rebuilding and starting over didn’t feel as daunting as it had a day ago. The menacing weather had kept them undercover and grounded. Doogan nor anybody else had mentioned Fulvio, at least not when within her company. As the climate degraded so did Doogan’s temperament, his extreme trepidation was palpable. The winds and precipitation had diminished and the morning appeared as a precursor to a brilliant day. Perfect for flying.

  ***

  Meanwhile, gleaning together indispensable necessities, Doogan stowed the bag between the pilot and co-pilot’s seat in the heliocraft. Then collected a menagerie of items and stashed them into burlap sacks and jumped out of the helio’s metal door. “Hey, Gus,” he spoke soundly to the boy walking toward the fire. “Let me look at that hand.”

  “Have you seen Jane?” Gus asked. His head roving from right to left. “She was gone when I woke up this morning. You don’t think she went back to see if any of her people survived the earthquake, do you?”

  Doogan noticed the worried brow on his face and tried appeasing him. “I doubt she’s ready to stray too far from you.” He set a hand on his shoulder for reassurance. “She probably needs some private time. You know what I mean?” Gus’s face blotched a tinge of pink.

  “Oh, yeah.” Gus raked his fingers behind his neck. “You’re probably right.”

  Doogan took hold of the boy’s arm and pushed up his long sleeves. He pressed on his bare skin. “Hmmm...”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Not as swollen as it was. How do you feel?”

  “Good.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” Doogan looked at him out of the corner of his eyes. “I can’t help you if you’re not honest.”

  “Well—” He heeled the ground with his boot. “It’s better. But still stings.”

  “Another round of penicillin.” He let go of Gus’s arm. “I want you to inject yourself once a day. Okay?”

  “Me? You want me to stick a needle into myself?”

  “You can ask Jane to do it if it makes you queasy.”

  “Why can’t you do it?”

  “Ummm...I’m going after Fulvio.”

  “I want to go,” Gus pleaded, rolling down his shirtsleeve. “You’re not leaving me behind, are you?”

  “Gus, that arm needs healing.” Doogan figured the boy would insist on tagging along. But the cost might be deadly, and he didn’t want that on his conscience. “We need people to jump-start the village.”

  “But...” Gus’s words trailed off as his gaze deviated to the right. “What the heck did she do?”

  Doogan whirled to perceive the girl, Jane practically floating through the trees. Dripping wet, a smile decorating her face, and her long hair gone. He parroted Gus, “What the heck.”

  “Do you like?” Jane vivaciously asked, bringing her hands up to mix her spiky hair. “Here, Doogan, I used your scissors. Or somebody’s scissors that I found.” She handed off a pair of surgical scissors, normally used for cutting bone and sinew, into his hands. “I feel lighter.”

  Jane’s rowdy dreadlocks sheared, her exquisite features were plain to see. Gus and Doogan gawked. A tad mortified by their gaping mouths, she timidly ironed her palms along her hips.

  “Jane,” Keeyla said coming forward. “You look totally different. I love it.”

  Reticent, Jane forc
ed a smile and looked from Keeyla to Gus for his approval.

  “Er...um-m...You look—” he stammered.

  “Beautiful.” Doogan elbowed Gus in the side.

  “Yep. I agree.” Gus whipped out three arms and mischievously ruffled the top of Jane’s head. “I like it.” They both giggled while Jane slugged at his intrusive arms.

  “You didn’t go swimming in the lake, did you?” Doogan asked.

  “I saw the silly sign Smelt put up with a fat headed monster with squiggly arms.” Jane and Gus laced fingers. “I stayed close to the banks.”

  “We have food bubbling by the fire,” Keeyla said while coupling her arm through Doogan’s. “Go eat.” She dragged him to the heliocraft and waited to speak until Gus and Jane were out of range. “So when are you going?”

  “You know me too well.”

  “I’m going with you.” She looked into his riveting gray eyes.

  “No.” He skimmed his fingers on either side of her face. “You need to stay here, with Fabal.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do. Making me feel guilty. But not this time. I’m going—one way or another.” Doogan’s gaze clung to her lips as his thumb outlined her mouth. “And I have a plan.” He blinked, her words jarring him.

  “So do I,” he said. His drop-dead gorgeous face brightened. “Let’s go into the woods and we can compare notes.”

  “Be serious.” He combed fingers through her hair launching a thousand tingly electrodes to every inch of her body. It took all her willpower not to take him up on his offer.

  “I’m serious,” he said and tipped his forehead to hers to study her eyes. “I’m very serious.”

  Her torquing anatomy triggered all sorts of divine sensations. Reflections of their previous tryst left her wanting. It was necessary to curtail his blitz of seduction before she tackled him to the ground right here right now. Snapping out of her reverie, she assumed he was scheduling to leave. She disentangled his tempting embrace to peruse the area.

  “Where’s Fabal?” Her voice cracked with longing.

  “There.” Doogan signified the river.

  Tibbles rested with his broad back facing them, and Fabal resembled a munchkin snuggled on one side and Swan and Knox on the other.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  In her bedroom wearing the carpet thin, Paniess paced from one end to the other. Her mind filled with images of Rooney lying helpless in the hospital bed hanging on by a thread, just waiting to die. She’d sent word through Babbit to Gee Butterwood, saying she wished to speak with him, but doubted Pomfrey would admit him in the mansion.

  Aggravated, she opened her door. A squat, measly chested boy, more than likely in his late teens, eyed her in wonder. It appeared that another Mediator had replaced Clive. “Hello,” she said in her sultry voice. “What’s your name?”

  “Umm...Jamel.”

  “You’re new, right?”

  “I was assigned to the Mediators six months ago.” He sniffed and squared his shoulders.

  “You like your assignment?” Making small talk, she bargained for the boy to ease off and let her pass.

  “It’s not what I ha...” His sentence ceased; eyes rounded like he’d goofed. He amended with, “The training was tough, but I passed.”

  “Nice. Would you be a dear and drive me to the Infirmary?” Jamel’s booted feet budged on the marble flooring, outwardly indecisive. “Or, I’m more than capable to drive myself.”

  “I had strict orders. Sorry, Miss Addler, but you must remain in your quarters.”

  “But Jamel,” she said, putting on a distressed pretense and gripping her splinted broken finger. “I’m in misery. Babbit forgot to give me pain meds when I was there. He’s not as efficient as Doctor Riggley.” Jamel’s mouth pursed as he sniffed in understanding. She’d hit upon his sympathies. .

  “Miss Addler, I’d call the Infirmary for you if I had cell phone. Can you wait until Clive returns? He’s with Mr. Addler at Headquarters.”

  “I feel faint.” She closed her eyes bringing a hand up to her brow. “I don’t know how much longer I can stand the pain.” Peeking through her fingers, her theatrical performance was working. Jamel’s shoulders slouched visibly confounded.

  “I...I really wish I could help you. But...but...”

  “Do you know why you’re guarding my bedroom door?” Jamel’s face filled with insecurity. “You’re expected to help me. Didn’t my father—oh sorry, I mean Mr. Addler tell you that?”

  “Uh...no,” Jamel replied. “Clive just said to stand here and not let you pass.”

  “You mean you didn’t get the orders directly from Mr. Addler?”

  “No, Miss.”

  “That’s your error.” She paused. “I might pass out any minute from this atrocious pain, and then what will happen?” Paniess exhaled while shaking her head in dismay and clamped her broken hand to her breasts. “The servants will come running from all corners of the mansion. When my father hears of the episode, he’ll have to blame someone. And it will be Mediator Jamel who was supposed to be watching over Pomfrey’s daughter.”

  “I have an idea.” Jamel took two backward steps. “Mediator Stark will have a cellular. I can go to the front gate and call the Infirmary to bring something for you. Will that work, Miss Addler?”

  “Jamel, please call me Paniess.” The edges of her lips curved. “Make sure you talk to Gee. Have him bring the medication stat. Understand?”

  “Yes, I will.” Jamel turned to leave.

  “See Jamel,” Paniess said, stopping the boy in midstride, “I knew we could work something out. By the way, did Clive say how long he’d be gone?”

  “Not really, but I heard every Executive was ordered to attend. So I imagine it’ll be a while.”

  “Well, then you’d better hurry. My stomach is feeling kind of nauseous, and it’d be a shame to disturb my father at such an important meeting.”

  Nodding the boy’s complexion paled and hastened away.

  Things were heating up, and Management was scheming big-time. One deviant act had already been initiated, Goshen’s fiery death. She thought of the call to Fulvio and her father’s deliberate tirade of her execution. Would he let that play out? Or was it merely said to spur them into action and back to Tallas? She’d noticed plenty of younger than normal Mediators making it into the ranks, and to her, it meant they were gearing for trouble.

  She couldn’t stand idly by while dastardly Elites molded Executives like putty, setting traps. Forever bowing their heads in acquiesce to whatever her demented father had construed.

  First things first, she needed Gee to perform the surgery on Rooney before he died.

  ***

  Gee creaked Paniess’s bedroom door, a vial of meds clasped in his hand. Prior to him uttering a word, she hushed with a finger to her lips and signaled for him to close the door.

  “I reckoned something was up because I know for certain your father has a boat load of pain killers in the mansion.”

  “Over here. Away from the door,” she whispered. Gee was a true humanist, a man who’d climb over mountains to aid his friends. “How’s Rooney?”

  “Not good. But alive.”

  “How much longer do you think he has?”

  “That’s hard to say. He was strong and healthy when your moth…” He cringed showing teeth and looked elsewhere.

  “My mom didn’t shoot him.” His eyes snapped to her. “Pomfrey shot him. It was all a ploy. My mother killed herself. She overdosed on tranquilizers. I begged Rooney to tell my father that she had a heart attack.” She bit her lower lip to stop it from trembling. “He did as I asked. I...I thought it was the easiest solution, and I was wrong. Pomfrey didn’t believe him, and he played judge and jury and shot him on the spot.”

  “Oh my God.” Gee brought a hand to his brow. “Poor Rooney. He didn’t see it coming.”

  “He saw it coming,” she said, tears tripped over her eyelids, “it was awful.”

  “Is that why Mr. Addler g
ave the order not to operate?”

  “He wants him to die. The best method to absolve his sins. To lay blame on someone else and this time he blamed my mother. She can’t rebut him, could she?”

  “What the fuck.” Gee let the vials of meds tumble from his hand onto Paniess’s bed. “We need to operate.”

  Confident, Paniess crossed her arms and said, “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  “I’ve been studying his case since it happened. I’m not a surgeon with finesse; that’s Doogan’s specialty. I might kill him during the operation.”

  “He’s going to wither and die no matter what, right?”

  “Yes,” he said bluntly.

  “Then you have to try.” She sounded more inspiring than she felt. “When can you do it?”

  “I’ll need someone to assist. I can’t do it alone,” he said and jammed nervous hands into his pockets. “I can’t ask that kiss-ass Malkus or Rayder they’ll run right to your father. We need to get rid of them or distract them in some way.”

  “Leave them to me,” she said with a grain of conviction. Gee wiped a hand over his perspiring temple. His eyes calculating the risks and the downward tilt of his mouth appearing stumped over their conspiracy. She suggested, “What about Hailla? She’d taken such good care my mother and a compassionate nurse.”

  “I’ll call the Infirmary and see if she’s still there.” Gee reached into his coat pocket.

  “You have a cell?”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  “Ennis, I’m not taking volunteers,” Doogan said to those assembled around the wagon. “But I will need ammo, and I don’t want to leave you high and dry.”

  “Like hell are you doing this alone.” Ennis snatched a carton of bullets from the buckboard. “I’m flying the helio.”

  “Hey guys,” Garth said, supporting his elbow on the wagon. “I’d like a piece of that action.”

  “Count me in.” Clayton’s two hands gripped the wagons side panels. Exposing his white and black fingers, a mutation that Doogan had come to terms with.