by Jill Cooper
“Something else bothering you? I’ve never seen you this upset, even after worse beatings.”
“I…” Danni croaked and her mouth hung open a second too long. “I shouldn’t say. I shouldn’t say.” She shook her head.
“Tell me and I’ll make it better. Tell me.”
She inhaled deep, as if searching for strength. “My cycle has skipped many months. Nearly six now. I think…something grows within me. I fear it’s your child.” Danni put her hands on her stomach, pulling her loose fitted garments tight. Mitchell saw it, a rounded growing belly. They made a baby and he’d never noticed. He always took Danni from behind, very rarely caressed her the way a real lover would.
Quick moments of intense, racing passion had put them in this predicament. Treachery, mistrust, that was how it had started.
But it had turned to love. A child could never be anything but love. Wasn’t that what people had said once upon a time?
“It’s begun to move,” Dani whispered. “At first it scared me, but…I’ll run. I’ll go far away and find a place to have it in secret, where the ministers can’t condemn its life and where your wife can’t hurt it. I’m sorry that it needs to be this way.”
Mitchell shook his head. “You will do no such thing. No child of mine will be born on the streets or in the wilds. No love of mine needs to sacrifice herself to save me.”
“But…Mitchell…” Danni whispered for the first time. Even when he’d first kissed her in the kitchen so many years ago, she’d never called him by his name.
He took her face in his hands and stroked her jawline, studying her beautiful eyes. “She won’t come between us. She won’t stop us, Danni. I need you and I don’t need her.”
“But her connections to the ministers? Their power over us and this town?”
Mitchell smoothed her dress back, undoing her top button so he could kiss her neck. Danni tossed her head back, her hands gripping his shoulders, inviting him to do so many things. “Leave Evelyn to me. I’ll take care of everything.”
She murmured, falling under his spell. Slowly Danni moved his hands over her belly, where their child grew. Evidence of their treachery. “I feared how you’d react when I could no longer hide my pregnancy. It grows harder every day, sir. It moves and has life.”
“Fear not, Danni. I love you. My feelings are true.” He whispered the words, closing his eyes as he kissed her. Pulling her close, feeling the heat of her body blaze within his reach.
“And your son? Timothy? He means not the things he says and does. He’s afraid of her just as I am, but that doesn’t mean that he’ll keep quiet.”
“He’ll side with us. I’ll make sure of it.”
****
Sandra groaned and nearly lost her footing as she stepped down off the ladder, a rush of pain shooting up her back. Well, she certainly was feeling her age now, wasn’t she?
“Darling, be careful.” Robert hustled over to her from the other side of the counter and grabbed her by the elbow before she fell.
“I’m alright.” She winced and turned away from him, placing her hands on the counter.
“You’re far from all right.” The concern in his voice made him sound angry. “You need rest and some medicine.”
Sandra shook her head and turned away from him. Her hand on her lower back worked out a tough knot along her lower spine. “With Abby gone, I can’t afford it. You can’t do everything yourself.”
Robert huffed with a tap of his foot. “I’m no simpleton. I can do what is necessary, Sandra.”
“With how the ministers watch us now? If I take any extra time in the back or in bed, they will ask questions. They might make assumptions without bothering to ask us anything. We can’t afford that now. You know I’m right so stop looking at me that way.”
“What way?”
“That way.” Sandra smirked slyly and leaned forward to kiss him.
“I just hate to see you hurting so. Is that too much to understand?”
It wasn’t. She loved him for it, even if she never said it in so many words.
“Business is slow. We’ll close up early and I’ll help you with dinner.” Robert headed over toward the door to draw the shades down, but he paused, his hand still in the air.
Sandra rested her hands on her hips as she walked over to him. “What’s the matter?”
Robert opened the door and together they headed out onto the street as others on their block had done. Sirens wailed from horns and they witnessed a procession of hunters carrying black flags and marching toward the city square.
Sandra’s breath was taken away because it could mean only one thing. Her legs shook ever so slightly as larger hunters protected the Dark Lord Creighton as he coasted down the street, his giant sword drawn and in his hand.
He had returned, and he was there on business.
Robert grabbed Sandra’s hands and his eyes spoke volumes about the fear he felt. Sandra couldn’t speak; her breath only quivered. One by one, everyone returned to their shops and their homes. The Taylors, too, went inside and locked the doors.
Sandra gazed at her husband. “This is it. It’s the beginning of our end.” It was destined to end this way. Funny, she felt more fear then she’d expected.
Far more fear.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Tarnish Rose
We continued on and all I could think about was George and the life we were supposed to live. He bravely walked toward death to buy me time and none of it was right. We were to be wed; maybe I wouldn’t have worn flowers in my hair, and life would have been hard, but it would have been ours.
All I had now was anger and the thought of revenge. Surviving would be the best thing I could do until I brought the world crashing down around the ministers’ ears and around the Dark Lord Creighton himself.
The ravengers called out beyond the horizon and I was almost too tired to care. We approached a row of crumbling buildings in what once must’ve been a great city. Side by side, Sebastian and I stepped over it. Beneath my feet were cobblestones overgrown with grass and weeds, and everywhere I saw the remnants of life.
A rusted baby carriage overturned among the overgrown grass. Homes were decimated except for foundation and fallen doors, long discolored and cracked down the middle. When something crunched beneath my feet, I glanced down to see an old sign weathered and fraying.
Marge’s Coffee and Biscuits it said. If the sign had words on it….
“One of the last strongholds against the Dark Lord Creighton,” Sebastian said. “It was the last to fall and arrangements were made by my ancestors to make sure the resistance lived on.”
The resistance? It wasn’t the first time Sebastian had mentioned them. “If it lives on, why doesn’t he hunt the last of it down with his death hunters?”
“We are protected. I’ll explain more on that later.”
I scowled as Sebastian avoided my question and wondered why he wouldn’t give me a straight answer. What else was he keeping from me?
Sebastian led me over to a home still half standing. The windows were boarded up, and there was still a door and part of a roof. “Let’s take cover and allow the skies to calm.” He opened the door and ushered me in, but I shrugged him off.
“Don’t think just because I’m going with you I’m not angry.” I walked into the home and saw it was mostly soot and debris. There were hints of the home it had been before. A shattered fireplace in the corner; a burned rocking chair, and broken dolls with missing eyes under foot. I bent over and picked up a frame then brushed the old dirt and soot from it.
The broken glass was foggy, but beneath it was a picture of a family. Husband, wife, and two children. They wore shirts with words on them and I couldn’t bring myself to read them. Instead, I sobbed and fell to my knees, crying in the charred ruin of a home.
Everything that love had stood for. Gone.
Sebastian didn’t interrupt my silence. When I gazed up at him, he wore pity on his face. “Your sorrow a
nd anger would be better suited at the dark lord than yourself,” Sebastian said.
“You think this is easy?” I asked rising to my feet. “But I’m still here. I’m still standing even though…George….is gone.”
“You’re much different than I thought you’d be.”
His words made me feel like a pretender, a fake. So, he saw that I wasn’t as tough as everyone thought I was. “And you made George feel unwelcome. You might as well have given him to the ravengers yourself.”
A heavy silence weighed between us. “If that’s what you think, then I won’t bother you with conversation anymore. Not until we meet up with the rebels. Once you see them, once you know them as I do, you’ll understand why I am the way I am.”
I doubted that. Sincerely doubted that. I stormed over to a corner of the room and made myself comfortable on a pair of old flannel curtains I found bundled together. The room was dusty and dank, and I coughed as I fished a book out of my satchel. I didn’t read but I did flip through the pages, glancing at the pictures.
And it filled me with an open void.
****
My dreamless sleeps were interrupted by images of George and what he had done. How he had sacrificed himself to save me. The weight of his sacrifice weighed on me all through the morning. I stared at the dirt floor, unable to grasp what happened to George, or that I had left my home.
My heart was empty, I missed my bed and my parents, the morning ritual of waking up at home and greeting Poppa’s smiling face—even Momma’s scowl.
As Sebastian started to stir, I sat up and took a food ration from my bag. I tossed him some bread but didn’t say much of anything. Truth was, I couldn’t bring myself to look at him either. What had happened to George might not have been his fault, but my heart couldn’t stop blaming him.
After we ate, we started our way outside. The journey out of the city was slow as we stumbled around debris and deep crevice in the ground for what felt like hours. The layout of the land changed as the buildings clustered together more tightly. From the markings on the ground and the old posts lying sideways, I thought we must’ve been in what was an old city square.
I followed after Sebastian as he rounded the corner and my eyes focused on our destination. What had once been a grand building with a dome, was now nothing more than a half shell. Most of the roof was missing and the stone foundation had been obliterated.
Sebastian took me by the arm and I shrugged him off, still angry. He held his hands up. “Okay, okay, but come this way. Please.”
Silently I followed him over the crumbled walls. I stood in a hallway. There were markings and water stains on the walls where paintings and art had once hung. I imagined how pristine it must’ve once been. Broken benches along the walls had once been glorious and elegant. The busted tile beneath our feet now covered in decades of dirt and soot, had once shone beautifully.
I was sad to see how destroyed it was. When had people stopped caring? How had anyone allowed the ministers to assume so much control? George would’ve loved to see such a place. Oh, he would have. He loved to explore, to learn new things. There was a hole in my heart where he once lived.
Sebastian led me over to a crater in the center of the room. I peered inside. Attached to the inside of the basin was a single rope.
Did he expect me to go down there?
“Once you go down, Abby ceases to exist. To protect your family and your town, you now must only be Tarnish Rose. Are you ready?”
For my family, for George, I was ready. Scared, but ready. I set my jaw tight and took up the rope.
****
I rappelled down into the underground of the basement. Nothing more than an empty cavern, the air was moist and dew clung to the rock walls. The ground was uneven and I had to be careful where I stepped as I waited for Sebastian to join my side.
A moment later he did. “This way,” he gestured for me to follow him down a narrow corridor so small, I turned sideways to fit into the narrowing hallway. Once I moved through, it branched into an expanding room. Everything was still made of stone and there was a collection of people. Everyone wore the dark, thick robes that were custom but there was something about their faces…there was light in them; determination and spirit. It wasn’t something I was used to when looking into the eyes of commoners.
They moved out of our way as we stepped into the center of the room. There were simple tables in the center and old picture frames were stacked on top, but they held no paintings. Those must’ve been burned long ago in the great reckoning of our time.
“Her eyes are green,” a little girl whispered to a woman who must’ve been her mother.
“Hush, now, child. It’s not our place. She must talk to Markus first.” The mother smiled at me and bowed her head as I made my way past. Everywhere I went, it was the same. People bowed, kept their heads low, and would barely look at me, as though I were royalty.
Maybe even something greater.
I feared that I’d let them all down. I was nothing special, but they all looked at me as though I was, like I could do something grand. Free them? End the fear and the suffering?
How could I do that?
I glanced back at Sebastian. “What if I let all these people down?”
He rested his hand on the back of my neck. “You won’t.”
Sebastian guided me through a series of massively tall doors. There was a great desk and behind it sat a tall man. He had grey hair and green eyes just like mine. When he saw me, he rose. His brown tweed suit was well tailored and a custom fit. Beneath his jacket he wore a red vest, and a pocket watch dangled from a silver chain. He was dressed like one of the ministers, except his eyes didn’t glow.
Uncertain, I looked to Sebastian for guidance and he encouraged me on with kind eyes. “Go on, everyone’s been waiting for this moment to come for the longest time.”
“What about you? Won’t you come with me?”
“Not right now. This is your time, but I will be with you on this journey, Tarnish. I was born for it, just as you were.” Sebastian smiled at me and it quieted my soul, despite how my anger raged at him. He raised his hand to the man waiting to talk to me—Markus—and let us be.
I walked forward and kept a hand on my messenger bag. This was what destiny felt like; a bundle of nerves and vomit in the back of my throat.
“Tarnish Rose?” He asked the simple question and it broke the lingering silence in the room.
I nodded. “One and the same.”
“Markus,” he gestured to himself. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have much I would like to tell you about who we are and what we plan to do. First, if you’re hungry or thirsty, I could—”
Just the thought of eating or drinking made me nauseous. “Please, I’d like to get on with it if it’s all the same to you. My friend died on this journey. Gave himself to the ravengers to save me. So, if we could not mince words, I would greatly appreciate it.”
A few people behind me gasped and I glanced back to see a crowd had formed at the double-wide doors. So much for private conversations. “Did I say something wrong?”
“People here aren’t usually so glib with me, but it’s fine. It’s a nice change of pace for me and my ego.” Markus only smiled slightly, and the corner of his eyes crinkled in a kind way. “I expected you to be strong. Determined. Glad to see you don’t disappoint. I am sorry about your friend.”
I nodded, glad that his words at least sounded sincere. Markus gestured for me to follow him. I left the doorway and slipped between a pair of dark wooden doors into a back room with Markus. It looked like once upon a time it had been someone’s office. Now the shelves that lined the walls were empty, except a single shelf.
One row had a simple stack of papers torn from books and beside it a thick canvas rested against a wooden beam. The colors were rich, red and yellow. I paused to touch it, instead I took in the details of the brush strokes. I could actually see where the brush had started and stopped to ma
ke the blue sky and the birds that flew against it.
The picture took my breath away.
When I came to the pages, I paused. Those I couldn’t help but touch. I flipped a page over, licked my lips and read aloud. “Requiem of a Dream.”
Markus sucked in his breath and stumbled back slightly. “I knew you could read, but to hear it with my own two eyes...”
“Can you?” I asked.
He nodded. “Few words. Here and there. But not self-taught like you are. I fought every step of the way. Every word and sound for me is a struggle, but reading is not my job. I’m a caretaker of this place and these people.”
I could tell from how he spoke that he loved these people and he loved his job. “It seems you do it very well.”
“I try.” Markus’s eyebrows rose. “Stories were passed down from my family to me. It’s my job to keep them alive. Keep them safe, so the curator will know what her job is, when she comes.”
He smiled. “And here she is.”
I sucked in a breath. “I never meant to…I mean, I didn’t know…”
“That you were special? That you were designed for these times? If the stories we hear of you are correct you have a true gift, and I think you’ve known it for a long time.”
People told stories about me? I didn’t even want to admit out loud what it was I had done. “I kept it a secret. Somewhere along the line I started collecting pages and books. I don’t even remember how or why. I don’t think it was even a conscious choice. People would save them for me and send word. I’d rescue and…”
“And?” Markus encouraged me.
“I read to them. Same families and sometimes new stories, but when I got my hand on a new one, it was magical. Really magical.”
“Did you…I don’t mean to be presumptuous, but when you fled your city did you manage to take any of them with you?”
I reached into my messenger bag and pulled out the stack of leather bound books I had. Markus stared at them as if they were the world’s finest treasure. By all accounts, he was right.
