A muscle tics in his jaw.
Thunder rumbles like a low moan in the distance as rain begins to fall. Jack wipes away the blood and starts the long walk home alone.
5
Cracked and Sprung
DOUG
I toss a makeshift ball—two pairs of thick, Observatory-issued socks rolled tightly together—at the stone ceiling over and over again. I’ve been at it for fuck knows how many hours. But it gives me something to do with my hands, and it’s the only way I can think.
Voices drift from the other cells. The odd laugh. The occasional swear. Listening from my bunk, I’ve managed to figure out who’s stuck in here with us; almost all of them fought in Cuernavaca. Lixue, the last surviving member of my team, is in the cell farthest from mine—too far to communicate with her, and I’m sure that was Lyon’s doing. There’s no one I trust in the cells adjacent to mine . . . not enough to risk sharing my thoughts with.
Kai lies on the bunk below mine. It’s been hours since either of us last spoke, sometime after breakfast. The protein shake barely took the edge off, and a hunger headache has me feeling edgy and hollow.
With the exception of the slot for the meal tray, the cell door hasn’t opened since they brought Kai in here, and I’m surprised I haven’t paced a canyon into the floor. I hurl the sock ball across the room and throw an arm over my face, but in the darkness and quiet, all that’s left are the flickering images I saw in Lyon’s office.
The lower bunk creaks. A moment later, I’m startled by a soft thump on the bed beside me. I peel my arm from my eyes and frown at the sock ball next to my leg.
“Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?” Kai’s disembodied voice bounces softly off the walls, and I cover my face again. I’ve avoided the few questions she’s dared to ask since Lyon locked us up together, certain he sent her here to snoop. But she hasn’t left the cell once since they shut that door, and the closed-circuit camera on the ceiling outside our cell isn’t close enough to pick up much in the way of sound. Maybe I was wrong.
“Why?” I ask cautiously. “Have you?”
There’s a prolonged silence from her bunk. “I was thinking I might be a good teacher. You know . . . archery. Or maybe earth science. I’d be good at that.”
A dry laugh starts in the back of my throat. It builds, rolling through me until my whole body shakes with it.
“What? There’s nothing wrong with being a teacher. You could teach, too, you know.”
I sit up, grabbing the sock ball as I swing my legs off the bed and drop to the floor. Kai’s lying on her back, fingers laced behind her head. I toss the sock ball at her and she glares at me.
Arms braced on my bunk, I lean over her, casting a shadow over her bed. “You seriously think Lyon’s going to let you teach?”
“Why not? He let Nereida do it.”
“Who’s Nereida?”
“My Handler,” she says with a frown. “She’s teaching Greek. And English as a Second Language. Professor Lyon says she’s happy.”
I repress a twinge of something that might be guilt. In all the shock of awakening and the truths I learned during my meeting with Lyon, I never asked him about my Handler. We were never close, and truthfully, I don’t give a shit what he decided to do with his life, assuming Lyon let him keep it. “Lyon told you that?” Her eyes narrow on me as I mutter, “Of course he did.” I lean closer, blocking the light from reaching her bunk. “You seriously think, after what you did to Jack, that Lyon is going to let you mold impressionable young minds? That in a million years he’d ever stick a bow in your hand and cut you loose?”
She pitches the sock ball back at me. I catch it a second before it hits my face. She rolls sideways away from me as I chuckle to myself.
“Face it,” I say, tossing the ball gently at the small of her back. “If you give up your magic, you’re going to be stuck scrubbing floors. Maybe you’ll serve the old man’s Guards in the mess hall if you’re lucky.”
Her fists tighten around the edge of her pillow. “Since keeping our magic isn’t exactly an option, what are you going to do? Offer yourself up for Termination? That sounds like a stellar plan.”
“Better than groveling.”
She whirls upright, spinning to face me. “It’s not groveling. It’s a second chance.”
I choke out a laugh. “At what?”
“I don’t know! A new life. We can start over.”
“Fool yourself all you want, Sampson. This second chance he’s offering you isn’t an opportunity. It’s a punishment.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “You don’t know what you’re—”
“Get up!” We both jolt upright as a fist bangs on the cell door and the locks begin to open.
Four days have passed. I only know by the number of times the lights in our cell have switched off after the guards make their final rounds, and how many times they’ve flickered on again after the long nights I’ve spent staring at the ceiling.
Kai’s eyes are wide in her bunk. “What do you think they want?” she whispers.
“I don’t know.”
I draw back as the door creaks open. A team of Guards stands in front of our cell. Like all the others who have come to check on us this week, their movements are rigid and stilted, clearly rehearsed, and I’m betting all four of them are fresh out of training. Lyon probably assumes it’s the smartest thing he’s done, getting rid of the old Guard and picking a brand-new squad of his own, but I’d take four seasoned officers with blood on their hands over thirty green asswipes who’ve never seen a fight.
A Guard—the one whose ear I pulled through the bars—sneers at me as he approaches the cell. He grins as he holds up two sets of wrist restraints and fire-retardant mitts. Since we’re barely out of stasis, I guess they figure we don’t pose much of a threat. Not to a whole team of them.
But one? I can handle one. It’s a simple matter of getting outside this cell and separating the weakest from the herd.
“Where are we going?” I ask as he turns me to face the wall. The restraints click shut, painfully tight. He shoves me toward the door, passing me off to one of his friends, both his ego and his ear obviously still bruised. He drags Kai from her bunk, wrenching her arms back hard, not bothering to answer me.
“Chronos is giving you a little reprieve for good behavior,” one of the others says, making the frostbitten Guard grimace.
The crow outside our cell flaps on her perch, watching us as we’re led out of the holding area into the winding tunnels of the catacombs. My eyes rake over the Guards as we walk, but I’m unable to discern the leader. They may have been granted power over all four elements, but I’d bet my soul they can only control one—the one Gaia gave them when she made them a Season. It takes time to master the elements, to weaponize them.
We round a corner into an older wing of the Administration level. I register the subtle incline in the strain of my legs, an angle so slight I might not be bothered by it if it weren’t for the stasis fatigue. The ramplike hall widens into a brighter corridor, and Kai and I wince, our eyes slow to adjust as the torches give way to fluorescent lights in high, white ceilings.
The Guards stop in front of a pair of double doors. The placard beside them says “Restricted Access: Faculty Recreation Center—Staff Only.” One of the Guards waves a key card over the scanner, and the doors slide open. The smells of soap and sweat, oiled steel and pool chemicals all blend together as the warm air inside rushes over us. I draw the scents deep into my lungs, grateful to smell anything other than the reek of the catacombs and the body odor that clings to me.
The Guards drag off our mitts and unlock our restraints, dumping towels and changes of clothes in our arms. The Guard I frosted watches me warily.
“Chronos is giving you one hour to stretch your legs and clean up,” another says, checking the time on her watch. “The track and the locker rooms have been cordoned off for you to use. Sparring rooms are off-limits. So are the weight rooms. Th
ere are smazes inside and Guards stationed outside every door, so don’t try anything stupid.”
The door closes behind us, the slam echoing off the high walls around the indoor track. A water dispenser sweats on a table beside it, the melting ice shifting to reveal slivers of orange and lemon. Two protein packets rest beside a stack of paper cups. Kai dumps her towel and clothes on the floor, tears open a packet of powder, and shakes it into a cup of water. Not bothering to stir it, she swallows it down. Her hand shakes as she refills the cup, funneling the last of the wet powder into her mouth.
“We’ve only got an hour.” I jut my chin toward the track. “Might as well use it.”
Kai swirls the last drops on her tongue and follows me onto the rubber-coated surface, catching up to walk between the painted lines beside me. It feels good to move more than ten feet without hitting a wall.
We take the first lap slowly, in silence. There’s no point talking anyway. I count smazes as we round the track: One under the water table. One hovering in the air duct high on the far wall. One dark, twisty little fucker trailing behind us, close to the floor.
“Come on,” I say, veering off the track, one eye on the smazes as I test the lock on the door to the next room. I can smell it, the hot chlorine steaming through the gaps. It must be the faculty pool.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
“They told us to clean up. They didn’t say where.” The locks in this place are all different—a hodgepodge of hardware reflecting the time period when each particular section of the Observatory was built and the value of whatever is secured behind it. This lock isn’t sophisticated, more a deterrent than a dead end. I hold the knob and summon what little magic I can to my fingers, heating the metal, before switching hands and infusing it with a blast of cold instead. The knob steams as it freezes over. With a quick press of my thumb, something pops inside and the lock breaks open. The effort leaves me woozy.
Cracking open the door, I peer inside. The pool is dimly lit, green and blue light dancing over the dark ceiling above it. No Guards. No other lights beyond those in the pool and the warm sliver that slips through the door with us.
“But the smazes . . . ,” Kai says, hesitant to follow.
“Relax. They only said the sparring and weight rooms were off-limits. They never said anything about the pool.” We haven’t broken any rules. Not yet.
I shuck off my jumpsuit and perch on the edge of the water in my briefs. Steam rises off the surface, humid and sultry, and the smazes that followed us in shrink away from the heat.
Kai watches as they float up to hover by the vents in the ceiling.
“Relax.” I jerk my chin toward the Winter wraiths. “They won’t get close enough to hear us.”
Warmth rushes over my head as I dive in. My blood feels thick, my bones heavy, the long years I spent as a Winter pushing back against the heat. I break the surface fast, drinking in the cooler air, letting the initial shock pass over me.
When I blink the sting of chlorine from my eyes, Kai’s still standing by the door.
“You were a Summer once, right?” I splash water at her. “What the hell are you waiting for, Sampson?” I wade in deeper, keeping my back to her as she unfastens the buttons of her jumpsuit. The water ripples as she tests the temperature, and I wait for the splash.
There’s a prolonged silence, broken only by the slosh of water against the concrete lip of the pool. “For fuck’s sake,” I mutter. “What’s taking so long? We only have—”
I start as her head breaks the surface beside me, her short hair slicked back around her heart-shaped face.
“Not bad,” I say, surprised she was able to get the jump on me. She’s good. Maybe better than I gave her credit for. “Didn’t see you coming.”
“Maybe you’re just a lousy hunter.” Her chin brushes the surface as she treads water, her eyes darting up to the shadowy mist near the air ducts. “Those things creep me out.”
“They’re harmless,” I say, turning for deeper water. “The flies are a hell of a lot worse.”
I maneuver to the far side of the pool, far enough that the smazes won’t hear. “We only have a few days. We should come up with a plan. I’m not going to that Dismantling. So I need to know, are you in or out?”
“I can’t run.” She rakes the short, dark spikes of hair from her eyes.
“You’ll feel stronger in a few days. We just need to find a way past a few Guards and then lay low for a while.”
“There’s no time. The Dismantling is in less than a week.”
“I thought you were a fighter.”
“There’s no sense fighting him, Doug.” She lowers her voice, glancing back at the smazes. “If we do, we’ll lose everything. We should just take the demotion and start our lives over.”
I swipe water from my face. She’s giving up far too easily. I’ve seen her train. I know how tough she is. I know what she’s capable of. And so does she.
“You’re a fool to trust him,” I say under my breath. “Whatever Lyon promised to give you in exchange for spying on me, he’ll turn on you.”
Her eyes grow wide. “He didn’t. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
A dark laugh rocks my shoulders. “You may be a good hunter, Sampson, but you’re a shitty liar.”
She shakes her head, too hard and too fast. “It wasn’t like that, Doug. I swear. He’s just worried about you.” I raise a brow, calling her on her bullshit. “I’m serious. He’s afraid you won’t cooperate with the Dismantling, and he’s scared someone will get hurt.”
No. Not someone. Himself.
I remember Lyon’s face when he looked into the eye of the staff. He was afraid. Not for me—he had to know I’d never give in to him, that he’d have to kill me. He was afraid for himself. Afraid he would get hurt. Probably afraid I would be the one to do it. So he sent Kai to try to soften me, to persuade me to give up my magic quietly. Fuck that.
I back her into a corner, my arms braced on the side of the pool, trapping her between them. If Lyon is afraid of what he saw in his future—of something he saw happening at the Dismantling, something I do that hurts him—then that means I have a chance.
There is a way forward—interfering with the Dismantling must be mine.
“What did he offer you in exchange for talking me into surrendering?”
Her chest rises and falls faster as she darts fearful glances to the door. I get down in her face. “What do you think he must have offered Jack to inspire that kind of loyalty? More magic? Freedom? A coveted place on his Guard? And what did Jack get? Nothing, Kai. He got nothing. He’s a Handler. A human, with no magic of his own, playing servant to a Spring.” Creases of doubt furrow her brow. She stubbornly looks away. “Daniel Lyon can’t be trusted,” I whisper, my back shielding our conversation from the smazes. “Whatever he offered, it will disappear the moment he’s done with you.” Her eyes snap to mine, the truth laid bare in them. “What was it? What did he promise you, Kai?”
She swallows hard. “Clemency. For my sister.”
“Who’s your sister?”
She hesitates. “Her name is Ruby.”
I roll the name around in my mind. Ruby’s a July birthstone—a common name among Summers. There were no Rubys in Michael’s Guard and the name doesn’t ring any bells, but there are hundreds of Summers in the Observatory, and I only remember those I was assigned to hunt—the ones who caused problems. “What did your sister do?”
“Lyon said . . .” Her face is pained. “He said she hunted Jack and his friends. That she attacked them when they ran away from the Observatory. I told him she probably only did it for the bounty. Michael offered a huge reward, and I know my sister; she’s competitive. She would have wanted it. I seriously doubt she had any ideological motives for wanting to stop Jack.”
I like her sister already. “What happened to her?”
“Lyon said she’s being held here in the Observatory. I assume she was rounded up with all the others w
ho hunted for Jack. She must have had her hearing.”
“What does he plan to do with her?”
“He says he can’t release her. That her fate is a matter of my cooperation and Jack’s willingness to forgive and let her go, and that her ‘present situation’”—she puts Lyon’s words in finger quotes—“is a direct result of the choice Ruby made to hunt Jack.” Her sigh is shaky. She swipes a bead of water from her cheek, and I’m pretty sure it’s a tear. “He said that if I choose the right path, I can free her.”
“And what about you? What do you get out of it?”
She sinks down into the water, her arms crossed around her middle. “What happens to me doesn’t matter. I have to know my sister will be okay.” She sniffs and swats another tear from her face. “Lyon said this is my way forward. That giving up my magic is the first step toward forgiving myself.”
“For what?”
“For what I’ve done.”
The simmering anger I’ve felt since I woke from stasis threatens to boil over. Now that I know for a fact that she’s under Lyon’s thumb, I should leave her here. She made her own bed, she’s tough enough to lie in it. But I can’t get past the idea that Lyon’s stripping away her magic from her for doing her job. For doing exactly what she was ordered to do. This isn’t a choice he’s giving Kai. Not if he’s holding her sister’s life over her head.
I lean down, forcing her to meet my eyes. “Listen to me. You did nothing wrong. We did nothing wrong. And we have nothing to feel guilty for. I’m not giving up my magic because Lyon decided I don’t deserve it anymore. And neither are you.”
Lyon made a horrible play using Kai as a pawn. If he thinks she’s working for him—if he thinks she’s succeeded in convincing me to give in—then that gives me an advantage. It’s not like he’s keeping tabs on his own future by looking in the eye. If Lyon’s offering Kai her sister’s life, then I’ll just have to promise her more.
Seasons of Chaos Page 5
