by Brenda Poppy
Burn shook her head, certain that she would never understand men.
Sighing, she said, “Well, I think breakfast is over anyway. It seems we’ve slept in a little late. Everyone’s already up and about. I hope Imber doesn’t kick us out if we’re late on our first day of work.”
Hale, still looking perplexed, opened his mouth to speak but shut it again without saying anything. Burn made a mental note not to engage with him after he’d just woken up. It seemed he required more time than most to get himself together.
“Fine,” she conceded, taking pity on him. “Go clean yourself up, and I’ll see if Luce has any spare food lying around. But in the future, when you’re hungry you get your own food.” She left the bedroom without waiting for a reply and climbed down to the first floor.
Luce was out front, sweeping the sand from last night’s storm off the stoop and muttering to herself. “Damn sandstorms. Can’t even go one day without sand getting into every corner of this godforsaken place. Might as well live inside a sand dune and be done with it.”
Burn had to clear her throat to get Luce’s attention. The woman spun around at the sound, brandishing the broom like a weapon, and Burn put her hands up in surrender.
“Hi, Luce,” she started warily. “We know we missed breakfast, but we were hoping you might have a bit of something to tide us over? We’d appreciate any food you could spare.” She tried to sound sweet and sincere, but it was difficult given Luce’s obvious dislike of her.
Luce considered her for a moment, sizing her up as if to determine whether Burn was trying to fleece her out of her daily rations. Apparently she decided that Burn was trustworthy because after a few seconds she lowered the broom and steered her inside.
“I have a few things tucked away for emergencies,” she said, opening a squeaky wooden cabinet in the corner of the kitchen. “But don’t get used to this. If you miss breakfast again, you’ll have to fend for yourself.”
Luce pulled out a few bruised apples and a muslin bag and thrust them into Burn’s hands before closing the cabinet and stalking back outside. Burn stood there for several heartbeats, trying to regain her bearings after the abrupt conversation.
Peeking inside the cloth bag, she saw it held a mixture of toasted oats, seeds, and miscellaneous dried fruits. It wasn’t much, but it would be enough to tide them over until lunch. Assuming Hale didn’t eat it all. Having seen the large man eat, she knew he had quite the appetite.
Burn shoveled a few handfuls of the oat mixture into her mouth as she climbed the stairs, determined not to let her faux husband bogart the meal. Only after she’d sufficiently satisfied her own hunger did she enter the bedroom and toss the remaining foodstuffs to Hale.
He had changed in her absence, donning a simple tan shirt and an animal hide vest over loose pants of a deep brown hue. Burn found it amazing how much a change of outfit could change a person. Hale now looked like all the rest of the men in Videre, like he had always been there.
She imagined she must look the same, like she was one of them. Like she belonged. That thought was an unwelcome one, and Burn chastised herself for even considering belonging in a place like this. She belonged in Kasis, not here.
As she watched, Hale dumped the contents of the muslin bag straight into his mouth, emptying the sack in a matter of seconds. Then he got to work on his apple, with that, too, disappearing faster than Burn could have imagined. She was glad she had taken her share when she did, and she made another mental note to never leave him alone with a plate of food – at least not if she wanted it to be there when she returned.
Done with his meal, Hale turned to her and asked, “So what now?”
Burn shrugged, glancing out the window to the city beyond. “Now I think we have to go to work.”
Chapter 7
Burn had never done an honest day’s work in her life. She preferred to pay the bills in a somewhat less conventional way: blackmail. Targeting the rich and powerful, it turned out, was a great way to curry favors, gain intel, and sustain a comfortable lifestyle with a little cash to spare.
In Videre, however, blackmail wasn’t a viable career path. Which was a shame because with her gift, Burn had become a master of discovering people’s darkest secrets. Now she needed to learn a different trade entirely. She was going to be a guard. The thought did not appeal to her.
She enjoyed the freedom of blackmail – the varied hours, the different settings, the myriad people she could meet and extort. Yet up on the wall, guarding the city from intruders, she’d have none of those things. It would be the same place and the same people day in and day out.
Naturally, she wasn’t in a hurry to get to the wall. But sooner than she had expected, she found herself standing before it, squinting up in an attempt to find someone – anyone – who could show her the ropes. Or at least show her how to get up.
“Hello?” she yelled, hoping her voice would carry along the wall’s wide expanse. She waited a minute, but no one responded. “Is anyone up there?” she tried again.
This time, a head surrounded by a tangle of black hair poked out over the side. “You Burn?” the woman shouted. Burn nodded. “You’re late,” she stated before promptly ducking out of sight.
Burn remained where she was, flummoxed by the strange interaction. Should she stay and try to find a way up? Should she yell again? Should she leave and call it a day?
A few seconds later, however, her questions were answered for her when a small door opened in the wall nearby and the black-haired woman stuck her head out once more.
“Follow me,” she said before disappearing into the gate’s interior.
Burn did as she was told, entering through the almost-hidden door and finding herself in a dimly lit passageway with a single staircase. Seeing no other options, she climbed the stairs and soon emerged on top of the city’s wall.
The woman was waiting for her there, leaning against the parapet with her arms folded in front of her. Burn approached warily, considering the woman. The woman considered her right back.
This guard was tall and muscular, with wavy black hair that cascaded down her back. She had a wide nose and strong jaw, paired with dark eyes that saw far more than Burn was comfortable with.
“I’m Nara,” she said after reaching the end of her inspection. “I don’t need another guard. I can see beyond the horizon in every direction. If anyone approaches Videre, I’ll be the first to know. But Imber says I need to let you play along. So here we are.”
There was no malice in her voice, merely conviction. The bluntness and self-satisfaction almost rivaled Scar, and Burn couldn’t help but smirk. Despite her best efforts, she liked Nara and found her clear-cut demeanor refreshing.
“OK,” Burn said, shaking her head. “You seem like you have this whole guard thing under control. But I do have to earn my keep. So I’ll be here. Every day. And while I’m here, I might listen for anything out of the ordinary, just to keep myself occupied. And who knows? I might hear them before you see them.”
Burn strolled past her, looking out into the wildlands. Yes, she was baiting Nara, but if the woman was anything like Scar, then she thrived on a little friendly competition.
Nara was at her side in an instant. “You’re on,” she whispered into Burn’s ear. Burn smiled, relieved. Maybe this whole “work” thing wouldn’t be as bad as she’d thought.
✽✽✽
Scar wove through the dim streets, her head covered and her hands thrust into her pockets. Being outside for a second time that day made her uncomfortable, as if she were tempting fate and enticing it to bite her, but she had no other choice. She had to get to the Lunaria’s meeting. She had to convince them to save Burn.
This meeting was located a few tiers beneath Symphandra’s house, although not quite at the bottom of the city. This particular safe house had been used as the command center for the ManniK Battles, and they’d converted it to a hospital in the battles’ wake. It still held painful memories for Scar – memories of
Burn, small and broken, lying unconscious in bed.
Scar had feared that Burn might never wake up, that she would be left alone to deal with the aftermath. Thankfully, that hadn’t been the case then. But it was now.
She made it to the safe house in good time, scanning her finger on the pad outside to gain entry. Per usual, she was one of the first to arrive. Not wanting to draw attention, she tucked herself into a chair in the corner of the room and waited, observing each member as they entered.
As more people trickled in, whispered conversations emerged and spread, creating a buzz that rippled through the space. It seemed that Burn and Hale were the topic of the night, with their names sprouting from most people’s lips.
Theories on their capture mingled with gossip on what had happened to them to form a curtain of rumors, which blanketed the room. Scar bristled at how brazen they were, how crude and unfeeling they acted about two of their own. Yet she remained silent, waiting for her moment.
That moment came a quarter of an hour later. Half of the Lunaria were late, which grated on Scar’s nerves, but she knew she couldn’t start without all of them present. When the last member finally closed the door behind her, Scar stood up abruptly, drawing the room’s attention.
“Yesterday, during their mission to sabotage the ventilation system, Burn and Hale were captured by the Peace Force and thrown down the Pit.” Scar didn’t see the purpose of pleasantries or beating around the bush, so she got straight to the point. “I believe they’re still alive. I don’t know what’s out there, but it’s likely bleak. We need to find a way to get them back.”
Titters of laughter rolled through the room. Scar swiftly turned her head to face each culprit, intent on staring them down. This was not a joke. Her sister’s life hung in the balance, and she was deadly serious.
“We don’t know what happens when someone gets thrown down the Pit,” she continued, her tone grave. “We’ve only assumed that it leads to certain death, but no one knows for sure. It was built long before our time, and no information regarding its creation exists in the public record. That, in itself, is suspicious.”
No one spoke up to disagree with her, but she could tell they were dubious. Convincing them to help her – and to help Burn – was not going to be easy.
“Burn and Hale led many of you through the ManniK Battles. They saved the lives of thousands of people down on the lowest tiers. If there’s a chance they’re alive, we need to do everything it takes to bring them back.”
“But what proof do we have that they’re still alive?” Raqa piped up from his seat on the floor. “I mean, wouldn’t our time be better spent ensuring that they didn’t die for nothing? We should capitalize on their progress, strike again while the top tiers are still reeling from the last hit.”
For a man who always acted shaky and timid, he certainly wasn’t afraid to speak up, Scar thought. Other heads around the room nodded at his words, and Scar had to stop herself from visibly sneering. This was what she’d been afraid of.
“If they’re alive out there,” she began, but she was cut off before she could continue.
“That’s a big ‘if.’ I’m with Raqa,” said Ansel, one of the men who had fought alongside her in the ManniK Battles, utilizing his potent gift of fire to torch his opponents. “Our mission should be to keep going, keep fighting back. It’s what Hale would have wanted.”
Scar tried to speak again, but Ansel held up his hand. “If you can bring us proof that they’re alive, that there’s something out there beyond the Pit, then we’ll act. We’ll mobilize a team and do everything we can to get them home. Until then, we can’t waste our resources on a hunch.”
The rest of the room murmured their assent, and Scar’s vision went red with rage. They couldn’t do this to her. No, they couldn’t do this to Burn, to someone who had sacrificed so much for them. They had no loyalty, no allegiance.
The wires that threaded through Scar’s curls began to spark, and she could hear them sizzle as they telegraphed her anger. She wanted to scream, to demand they help her, to pin every one of them to the wall until they agreed to her plan, but she couldn’t. She was helpless, and that was the worst part of it all.
She took her seat in silence, the crackle of her hair the only sign of her fury. Patience was not her strong suit. Neither was taking orders. So if they wouldn’t help her, she would rescue Burn on her own – no matter the stakes.
The rest of the meeting passed in a blur. Scar didn’t listen to their discussion, nor did she take part in their plans. She didn’t volunteer to help or lend her expertise. This was not her fight, not anymore.
She knew it was selfish, forgoing their battle in favor of her own, but she didn’t care. As far as she was concerned, they’d betrayed her and Burn and, in doing so, had shown their true colors. Leaving an ally behind wasn’t the mark of a courageous team. It was the action of a frightened band of rebels who were too concerned with losing to ever truly win.
The instant the meeting ended, Scar was out the door. She needed to get away, to clear her head and figure out where to go next. Pulling up her hood, she stalked through the darkening lanes, conscious of the fact that curfew was drawing near but too incensed to care.
Pausing at the mouth of a narrow alley, she felt a sudden presence at her elbow. She spun to find Kaz standing beside her. Without hesitation, she pulled out her pen and held it to his neck, pressing the trigger.
An electrical pulse shot through Kaz’s body for the barest fraction of a second, and he crumpled to the ground. Satisfied with herself, Scar dragged him deeper into the alley, out of sight of the connected street. Looking down, she considered her handiwork.
Kaz was a Peace Officer, albeit a familiar one. Burn had found herself in his company several times before the ManniK Battles, having used him to gain inside intel on the Peace Force’s plot.
That didn’t mean Scar trusted him. When he’d learned about Burn’s true allegiances, he’d turned on her. Despite that, Burn had let him go, freeing him and allowing him to return to his corrupt little Peace Force – even though he possessed a particularly useful gift.
His gift of stealth must have been what allowed him to sneak up on Scar. Yet she had been prepared. She was always prepared. And now he was unconscious – and would be for several more minutes.
Seizing the opportunity, she patted him down. Finding a gun strapped to his belt, she carefully removed it, holding it up as a warning. She didn’t like guns, but she respected the authority they bestowed – and she wasn’t against using that authority to further her own ends.
Towering above Kaz, gun in hand, she waited for him to regain consciousness. As she waited, the light around her dimmed and the sirens sounded throughout the city, indicating that curfew had begun. Scar didn’t care. She had a feeling this was going to be worth the risk.
Eventually, Kaz stirred. He groaned and put his hand to his neck before slowly opening his eyes. He followed the line of Scar’s body up to the gun in her hand, and his eyes went wide. Scar was pleased at his reaction.
Kaz looked tired. There were bags under his eyes, and his thick dark hair was unkempt. He even had hints of a scraggly beard poking through his normally clean-shaven skin. He looked like a mess.
“What do you want?” Scar asked, her voice all business.
Kaz took his time before responding, no doubt still disoriented. After blinking at her a few more times, he straightened, holding his hands up to show he wasn’t planning to attack.
“I was waiting outside the safe house,” he began in a husky voice. “That was where I was kept during the battles. It’s the only meeting place I know about.”
“Have you told anyone else? Does the Peace Force know about it?”
Kaz shook his head emphatically. “No. I didn’t tell them. I didn’t tell them anything. After the battles, the force was in such disarray that they didn’t even realize I’d been gone. Cross only told a few officers that he thought I was a traitor, and Hale dealt with th
em when he freed me during the prisoner transfer. I was able to go back to work without anyone being the wiser.”
“You ran right back to them,” Scar said in disdain. “Burn never should have let you go.”
Kaz stared up at her, his look pleading. “That’s not it. I was…confused. I didn’t know what to think or believe. I wanted things to go back to normal. I wanted everything to feel like it had before, like I was the good guy and I could make a difference.”
“And you thought you could do that with them?” Scar spat back. “You’re even more naïve than I thought.”
“Listen, I want to help you! That’s why I followed you tonight. I want to help you find Auburn!” He was frantic now, desperate for Scar to believe him.
“What?” That hadn’t been what Scar was expecting. Her heart was hammering in her chest, with rage and adrenaline and a small tinge of hope mingling in her mind. She didn’t fully trust this man, but if he was serious, he could be the key to bringing Burn back.
“I heard what happened to Auburn,” he said, his voice cracking. “I know you don’t trust me, but I did care for her. I do care for her.”
“So you think she could still be alive?” No one else had believed her. No one else was on her side. No one but him.
“Yes. If anyone can survive whatever’s in the Pit, it’s Auburn. She’s strong and resourceful. She’s not like anyone else I’ve ever met. But if she is still alive, she needs our help.”
Scar considered him for a long moment. She didn’t know if she believed him. This could easily be a trap, a way to trick her into revealing more about the Lunaria and their plans. Still, she wanted to believe him, if only to have someone else on her side.
“Prove it,” Scar demanded. “Prove you’re willing to do what it takes to bring Burn back.”
“How?” Kaz asked, his voice still shaky.
Scar smiled beneath her mask, a plan forming in her mind. “Find out what’s on the other side of the Pit,” she commanded.
