Heart of the Rebellion

by E. E. Holmes

  “Nervousness is a good thing,” Catriona declared. “It will keep you on your toes. Just keep your mind focused on the goal, and don’t let your emotions get the better of you. If you fall apart, so does the plan, and so, likely, will the world of the Durupinen as we know it.”

  “Yeah, no pressure, right?” I muttered. One of my legs was bouncing up and down uncontrollably. I placed both of my handcuffed hands on top of it to stop the shaking. “So, when I’m Walking, what’s the priority?” I asked Catriona. “What should I try to find out first?”

  “I’d say the first thing to assess,” Catriona said thoughtfully, “is the state of the Necromancers within the prison. If they really are forming some kind of alliance with the Caomhnóir, there should be evidence of it. You need to find out if they’re being allowed out of their cells, or if any of the Caomhnóir are meeting with or speaking with them in a way that seems inappropriate.”

  “And how do I do that?”

  “I can lead you to where they’re being held,” Catriona said. “Necromancer prisoners have their own block within the príosún.” She looked in the rearview mirror again, and saw the fear in my face. “They aren’t being held anywhere near the Durupinen prisoners. The security for the príosún designed it that way. It would have been too dangerous to have Durupinen and Necromancers in close proximity. Well, with one notable exception.”

  “What exception?” I asked, hearing a strange bitter note in her voice.

  “My dear cousin,” Catriona said. “When you align yourself with Necromancers, you get incarcerated with them. It’s a simple matter of making sure the punishment fits the crime.”

  I had no idea how to respond to this information, so I decided to change the subject. “What else should I be on the lookout for?”

  “We’ll need to try to confirm what Finn told you, about the Caomhnóir slipping away and disappearing when they’re supposed to be on duty. You need to try to find out where they’re going, and why they’re going there.”

  The mention of Finn’s name sent a thrill of a dozen discordant emotions rushing through my body. Excitement at the thought that I might see him again. Crippling fear that something might’ve happened to him. Aching loneliness, knowing that even if I did see him, it would likely be impossible for us to speak together even for a moment. And anger, anger that we had been torn asunder like this, anger that pointless and antiquated laws had kept us apart.

  “Hey,” Catriona said sharply. “Don’t start doubting yourself, now. You can handle this. I wouldn’t be sending you in if you couldn’t, understand?”

  She had misread the feelings that were playing across my face, but I didn’t bother to correct her, just nodding instead and trying to muster a small smile of confidence.

  “If, and only if, you’re able to detect some sort of cooperation between the Caomhnóir and the Necromancers, will we continue with the next part of the plan,” Catriona said.

  “Which is?” I asked.

  “Which is to determine how far the corruption has spread into our own Caomhnóir and retake the príosún before the Necromancers can claim it,” Catriona said.

  “And how do we do that?” I prompted.

  “We’ll cross that bridge if and when we get to it,” Catriona replied.

  “Which is a pretty, metaphorical way of saying that you have absolutely no freaking clue, right?” I asked her.

  The corner of her mouth twitched into a sardonic smirk. “Could be,” she admitted. “Any and all of this plan could change at the drop of a hat. We’re going to have to think on our feet and be willing to adjust the goals of this mission. And I need to make one thing absolutely clear to you.”

  I looked up and caught her eye in the rearview mirror.

  “I don’t let my Trackers sacrifice themselves in the line of duty, not for Gateways, not for victory over Necromancers, and certainly not for ephemeral rubbish like love,” Catriona said. “If I tell you it’s time to get out of there, if I turn up to get you out, you follow me without a single glance over your shoulder, is that clear?”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “Don’t you dare say it just to placate me,” Catriona said. “Finn can look after himself, and he does not require your jeopardizing of a Tracker mission because you fancy yourself his knight in shining armor. And so, I repeat: is that clear?”

  “Crystal-clear,” I replied.

  14

  Fight and Flight

  CATRIONA CONTINUED TO GIVE ME a suspicious look, but she had no choice. She had to accept my word and move on. We were running out of time to talk. It was only a few short miles until we reached the helipad where the other Tracker and the Caomhnóir pilot would be waiting for us. Once we arrived, there could be no more talk that would suggest we were anything other than captor and captive.

  “Look, I don’t want you to get hung up on the details now, okay?” Catriona said. “There are too many variables, and we can’t plan for everything. We’re going to have to figure this out as we go, and I know that’s probably not very reassuring, but it’s the best we can do. We will be in contact, and I’ll be able to walk you through a lot of what you need to accomplish. If things seem to be going south, we will get you out of there quickly. I have all the necessary paperwork drawn up and ready to go. I can walk in that príosún at any time, slap the form down on the desk, and take you with me.”

  “Unless, of course, the place goes into lockdown before that can happen,” I pointed out.

  “We’re going to hope that it doesn’t come to that.” Catriona shook her hair back and jutted out her chin, as though the sheer force of her determination could control the situation. “Whatever is happening secretly at the príosún, the Caomhnóir there are still trying to carry on as though everything is running normally. They’re still communicating with Seamus’s office after that brief hiatus. And they’re still accepting and transferring prisoners like normal. So, whatever may be going on, they are certainly trying to function as though it’s not. We’re going to take advantage of that charade to get you inside the walls. After that, it’s a crapshoot.”

  “I hope you have better luck with gambling than I do,” I muttered.

  Catriona turned around, taking her eyes off the road to look me right in the eye. “I have excellent luck with gambling. I know exactly where to lay my bets. I may just have a little flutter on you foiling this entire plot. And I look very much forward to doubling my money, so don’t let me down.”

  “I’ll do my best,” I told her. We very nearly smiled at each other. Nearly.

  “Look, you’re just being held in the lowest security area of the prison. You’re not a dangerous criminal, at least, not on paper. If they knew what a nightmare you were to deal with, they might lock you up somewhere a bit more secure. In any case, when you’re simply awaiting a hearing, and haven’t yet been convicted of anything, the accommodations are a bit more relaxed. Your corridor will be patrolled periodically, not constantly. I mean, you’re not going to have armed guards standing outside your door staring at your every move. They save that kind of thing for people like Lucida.”

  It would be easy, if you listened to the careless way that Catriona tossed her cousin’s name around, to believe that she wasn’t carrying the weight of Lucida’s betrayal around everywhere she went, but I knew better. I knew that she worked harder, fought more fiercely, and found ways to prove her own loyalty every single day. I was sure there were those who thought it impossible that Catriona didn’t know that Lucida had been a double agent. At first, I would’ve counted myself among those people. But in the time I’d gotten to know her, I realized that Catriona truly believed that her role as a Durupinen was the most defining characteristic of who she was, and what she was meant to do with her time on Earth. Her entire life was consumed with Council business, Tracker missions, and Fairhaven politics. She had, to my knowledge, no social or romantic life to speak of outside the walls of the castle. And especially now, with her clan thrown into such disgrace over L
ucida’s actions, she seemed more determined than ever to devote every ounce of energy to fixing what was broken in the Durupinen world, whether it was Lucida who had broken it or not. It would be easy to pity her, if Catriona had allowed such a feeling to be directed toward her. Catriona was the kind of woman who resented even the slightest insinuation that she was anything less than a rock: steady, and strong, and impervious to weakness, especially of the emotional variety. I was sure that would catch up with her eventually, but honestly, who was I to judge? The inside of my head was a graveyard of emotions that I had chosen to bury deeply rather than deal with. I knew they’d dig their way out of those graves eventually, and then I’d be unable to escape them. They were like feeling zombies, moving doggedly and inexorably toward me, until eventually they destroyed me and ate my brain. It was inevitable, really. And I had a feeling that Catriona, too, would likewise be a victim of her own emotional zombie apocalypse.

  It’s not that I wanted to add another fresh grave to Catriona’s mental graveyard situation, but I couldn’t suppress the question that I asked her next.

  “Do you think that Lucida might be involved with what’s going on?” I asked quietly. And then I braced myself, not sure if Catriona was going to explode in a tirade, or else just ignore me completely.

  Catriona didn’t ignore me, and she didn’t explode. I watched her face carefully as she drew her eyebrows together and seemed to really consider the question. I held my breath in anticipation of a response I had not really expected to get.

  “I’m not sure,” Catriona said at last, her voice very quiet, almost small. “She doesn’t talk to me the way that she used to. I always hope that, when we do talk, I can sense a kind of remorse, even if she’s too proud to acknowledge it. I’d like to think that if she had the chance, she would make a different decision about getting involved with the Necromancers. And I’d like to think that she would avoid the temptation this time around, if they tried to involve her in whatever they’re planning. But I can’t honestly say I know for sure. She was badly used, first by the Durupinen, and then by the Necromancers. It doesn’t excuse what she did, but I’m not sure what was left of her, the girl she used to be, when she finally made the choice that she did. It’s been a very, very long time since my cousin let me see exactly who it is that she has truly become. I’m not sure I would recognize her if she did.”

  I didn’t reply. It would’ve been all too easy for my very own sister to have ended up exactly the same way. I think I had tried to forget that, because it was an uncomfortable truth to sit with.

  Catriona cleared her throat and shook her head back again, attempting to compose her features into her usual mask. “So anyway,” she said briskly, “I guess what I’m saying is, I wouldn’t trust her while you’re in there. Hopefully, you won’t find yourself in a situation where you need to make that decision.”

  I nodded. I, too, hoped I wouldn’t find myself in that situation.

  “This is the exit just up here,” Catriona said, pointing. “We’ll be at the helipad in just a couple of minutes. I suggest you take a moment to settle yourself back into our cover story. I won’t be able to speak to you anymore about what to do once you get inside the príosún.”

  I sighed and laid my head back against the seat of the car. I tried to close my eyes and take a few deep breaths to calm the nerves that were starting to mount again. This plan was insane, and reckless, and the only chance we had. I focused my energy on not fucking it up.

  Catriona pulled the car off the motorway and followed a dark, winding, increasingly narrow road out to the edge of a huge open field. Ahead of us, I could see a large rectangular building looming up out of the darkness and several large shapes sprouting up around it like massive toadstools, which revealed themselves, upon closer inspection, to be a number of helicopters and small airplanes in various states of disrepair.

  We pulled up to a gate. Catriona rolled down her window and punched a code into the keypad. A few seconds later, with a loud buzzing sound, the gate lifted, and we pulled onto a long gravel drive. As we approached the building, the narrow beams of our headlights jittering and shaking, a great metal garage door began to lift and open. Light flooded from the interior of the hanger, and two figures stood silhouetted in the opening, both of them with their arms crossed, waiting for our arrival.

  Catriona pulled the car directly into the hangar and killed the engine. I recognized the Tracker waiting for us: it was Elin. She avoided looking at me, betraying no hints that she knew anything unusual was going on. She watched in silence as Catriona slid out of the car, opened my door, and pulled me from the back seat. I tugged a little against her grip in a show of defiance, but I tried not to overdo it. I was counting on my evident terror and nervousness to carry me through this exchange convincingly.

  “Have you brought the paperwork?” Elin asked, keeping her eyes fixed carefully on Catriona.

  “No, I left it back on the desk along with my competence and twenty years of experience,” Catriona sneered. She pulled a packet from the inside pocket of her jacket and handed it to Elin. “That’s the copy for the crew in the booking area. We’ll need a copy of the sealed and signed version once they’ve signed off. For our records.”

  “Of course,” Elin said. “No problem.”

  “Is the helicopter ready to go?” Catriona asked. “We’re going to have to leave soon. I’ve been checking the radar, and that front is moving in pretty quickly.”

  “Just waiting for you,” Elin said. “We can leave whenever you’re ready.”

  “Off we go, then,” Catriona said. She adjusted her grip on my arm and jerked her head at Elin, who placed a restraining hand on my other arm. I couldn’t be positive, as she was still refusing to look at me, but I thought that the gentle squeeze she gave my arm might have been meant to reassure me. I chose to believe that was the case. I was grasping at any small comfort I could find.

  Together, Catriona and Elin marched me through the tall, echoing hanger to the spiral staircase in the back corner. The room was full of cold, flickering fluorescent light, as well as endless shelves full of airplane parts and two small prop planes, each clearly in the process of being repaired or restored. A scruffy-faced, elderly man in oil-spattered overalls stood at the base of the staircase that led up to the roof. He yawned and then leered at me as we passed, revealing several missing teeth.

  “Be sure to lock it up once we’ve taken off, Bill,” Catriona commanded him. “We won’t be back until you’re open for the morning.”

  “Yes’m,” Bill mumbled, inclining his head and doffing a filthy blue and white striped engineer cap.

  We took the narrow staircase single file and emerged onto the roof of the building. A helicopter was waiting for us there, parked in the center of a huge landing pad. I’d never been in a helicopter before, nor even seen one up close, but it predictably filled me with the same dread as the sight of an airplane. I’d been terrified of flying for as long as I could remember, and I was sure that being in a helicopter would be no different. The moment Elin closed the door behind us, the helicopter roared to life, headlights blazing and great blades whirring above our heads, creating a powerful wind, whipping dust and debris toward us. I scrunched my eyes closed and turned my head to the side, coughing. The Trackers must’ve been used to the helicopter, however, for they barely broke their stride as they hurried forward. I hunched myself over as we approached the helicopter. Even though the blades were several feet safely above my head, I could not shake the feeling that if I stood up straight, I’d be instantly decapitated. Catriona climbed up into the helicopter first and then turned around and reached out a hand to help me inside. I fell sideways into one of the two seats in the back of the helicopter, and Elin closed the door behind me. I struggled to sit myself up straight and looked around.

  The helicopter seated four people, two in the front, and two in the back. A short, broad-shouldered Caomhnóir sat in the pilot’s seat, focused entirely on twisting and turning and
pressing a dizzying array of buttons, knobs, gauges, and levers. Elin pulled herself up into the other bucket seat in the front and began securing herself with the many straps of her harness. A large console separated Elin from the pilot, and this, too, was covered with an impossible number of gadgets. Elin placed a massive set of headphones over her ears, adjusted the attached microphone so that it rested right in front of her mouth, and then began to converse with the pilot. Beside me, Catriona began pulling and tugging on the various straps of my safety harness, making sure that I was secure in my seat, since I was unable to do so myself thanks to the handcuffs still fixed around my wrists. She gave me a swift, apologetic look before reaching down and placing my ankles into manacles that seemed to be attached to the bottom part of my seat. I gritted my teeth and allowed her to fasten them. She straightened up and glanced over at the pilot, to make sure he was otherwise engaged before turning back to me and leaning close enough so that I could hear her voice over the deafening sounds of the helicopter.

  “Bloody hell, Jessica,” she said. “Are you quite well? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

  “I probably should have mentioned my crippling fear of flying,” I said faintly.

  Catriona barely refrained from rolling her eyes. “Yes, you probably should have. I could’ve brought you something for that.”

  “What, like drugs? Not a chance. There’s no way I’m walking through the doors of Skye Príosún doped up out of my mind. I need to be clearheaded. I’ll be fine; just… don’t make me open my eyes once we take off.”

  The back of the pilot seat was only a couple of feet in front of my face, and my shoulders were bumping against Catriona on my right side and the interior wall of the helicopter on my left. The whole experience would have been incredibly claustrophobic, were it not for the fact that the bulbous front end of the helicopter was made almost entirely of glass.

  I could feel the full-blown panic starting to set in as Catriona gave the straps of my harness one last, sharp tug and I felt my back press into the rough fabric of my seat.