by Kyle Prue
A fire of rage ignited in her chest, working with the alcohol to dull her pain. She promised herself she wouldn’t extinguish the flame. She would let it burn.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
VAPROS BUNKER
NEIL VAPROS
Neil dodged through the market streets, materializing around corners and tearing down alleyways to get away from the stampede of people following him. He finally ducked behind a fruit stand, hugging his knees to his chest and listening to the thudding footsteps of his adversaries as they raced past.
“Neil! Wake up!”
Neil blinked a few times. “What?” he mumbled groggily.
Rhys was standing over him. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Listen!”
Neil sat up. Overhead, on the floor above them, he could hear footsteps running in all directions. “People,” he said stupidly.
“A lot of people,” Rhys said urgently. “How many people live in this house?”
“I don’t know. Thirty?”
“I hear a lot more footsteps than that.”
Neil listened again and then everything clicked: the raid they had feared was happening—tonight, right now. He jumped out of bed and threw on his assassin cloak. “We have to go now,” he said, suddenly wide-awake. Rhys ran to get his things. As they barreled out into the hallway, they nearly crashed into Jennifer and Victoria. “You heard?” Neil asked, pointing up at the ceiling.
“We were just coming to get you.” She and Victoria were both wearing their battle cloaks. The latter looked extremely uncomfortable. “Never been so glad to be sleeping on the bottom floor,” Jennifer said.
“We don’t have time to talk,” Rhys said. The four of them started for the stairs. “We should find Father first,” Rhys decided. “He’s the strongest. He’s the best equipped to deal with this.”
“Taurlum?” Victoria asked, pulling her hood over her head.
“I don’t think so,” Rhys said. “The footsteps aren’t loud enough to be Taurlum. And our hallways are too small for them to fit.”
“Celerius, then?”
“Doubtful. It’s not like them to make the first move. And they wouldn’t cut us up in our beds. It’s not honorable.”
“Then who?” Victoria and Jennifer asked together.
Rhys and Neil shared a look. Neil said, “It’s the—”
“Look out,” Jennifer hissed, throwing out an arm to stop her siblings from proceeding. "We have guests."
At the end of the hallway, unaware that they’d been spotted, were three soldiers clad in Imperial armor and some sort of mask. “I’ll take the one in the middle,” Jennifer said from the side of her mouth. “Rhys, you get the guy on the left. Neil, you can have the one on the right.”
As soon as she finished giving orders, they were sprinting down the hall toward their adversaries. Jennifer reached her soldier first, burning straight through his mask with her palms and sliding a knife across his throat. Neil hit his target next, materializing behind him and stabbing his heart through his back. Rhys brought up the rear, calmly putting his man to sleep before throwing his limp body to the ground.
Victoria finally caught up with her siblings. “Why are they wearing masks?” she asked, looking a little pale. She had never admitted it, but killing made her sick to her stomach.
Rhys bent down and removed the mask in fascination. “I could be wrong, but it looks remarkably like an apparatus for protecting against asphyxiation via smoke inhalation.”
The other three stared at him blankly. “Talk like a person,” Jennifer grumbled.
Rhys slid the mask over his own face experimentally. “It’s a gas mask,” he said, voice slightly muffled. “If there’s a fire or something, this can help you breathe through the smoke.”
Jennifer ran her hand across the man she’d just killed and cremated him. “How do you know all this stuff?” she asked, picking up the gas mask from the pile of ash.
Rhys pulled off his gas mask, looked at it and spoke thoughtfully. “I think I invented it.” The other three stared at him. “I mean,” he clarified, “I think I talked to the guy who wanted to invent them. I helped him work out some flaws in the design. It was supposed to help save people. He told me he was part of the doctor’s guild and was a philanthropist.”
Jennifer narrowed her eyes. “And now the army has them. ” She tightened her ponytail and grumbled. “The same army that wants to go to war with us. Good going, Rhys. You practically handed them their victory.”
Rhys stared at the floor. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Neil glared at Jennifer. “Leave him alone.”
In a flash, Jennifer had her knife in her hand. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
Victoria stepped between her sister and brother. “So the soldiers have gas masks,” she said, trying to guide the conversation back to the matter at hand. “So they were going to set fire to our house?”
Rhys shook his head. “They wouldn’t have come all the way down here just to start a fire.” He began fishing through the fallen soldiers’ pockets. “Ah,” he said quietly, pulling out a small canister filled with a pin on the top. “Of course. I’ve seen these before. It all makes sense now.”
Jennifer exhaled heavily. “Are you going to enlighten us?” she asked with exaggerated patience, “or just talk to yourself?”
“These canisters have gasses inside that make people fall unconscious or suffocate,” Rhys explained. “It doesn’t usually kill them, just puts them to sleep for awhile. It would be a good way to capture us because we need air to materialize.”
Neil waited, but Rhys didn’t continue. “So?” he prompted gently.
“So they don’t want us dead,” Rhys elaborated. “They want to take us prisoner. They were going to find our bedrooms, release the gas—they’d be safe because of the gas masks—and bring us to … well, wherever they want.”
Victoria tried to look calm. “So here’s the new plan,” she said as forcefully as she could. “We get out of here. We’ll warn people on the way when it isn’t too risky, but above all else, we have to escape.”
“Taking charge,” Jennifer said, patting her sister on the back. “I like it. You heard her,” she said to Rhys and Neil. “Let’s go. Run.”
“Wait.” Neil knelt to pick up the masks from the fallen soldiers. One of them had a giant hole burned through it from Jennifer’s hands, but the other two were still whole. “Put these on,” he said, offering them to Victoria and Jennifer. “Just in case.”
Victoria took hers and slid it over her face, but Jennifer waved hers away. “You wear it, Neil,” she said with a foreign kindness. He was about to thank her when she added, grinning, “After all, you need all the help you can get.”
Scowling, Neil handed the mask to Rhys, who pulled it on without hesitation. The four Vapros started down the hallway, pounding on doors and yelling about the invasion as they went. Jennifer kept her knife in her hand at all times.
They rounded a corner and found themselves face to face with a large group of masked soldiers. Jennifer lunged at one of them, sinking her knife into his arm and yanking his mask off his head and onto her own. Victoria hung back, holding a knife in her hand just in case, but Neil knew she had no idea how to use it. He jumped into the fray, stabbing and dodging and materializing out of the way as the Imperial soldiers swung at him. He wondered desperately where the rest of his relatives were. Maybe the soldiers had already gassed them. Maybe he, Rhys, and the twins were the only ones left.
“Look out!” screamed Victoria. Neil turned just in time to see one of the soldiers pull the pin on a canister full of the foggy vapor. He groaned. He was the only one without a mask. Holding his breath, Neil materialized behind one of the soldiers and tried to pull off his mask. But fighting without breathing was hard work, and the man was struggling hard. Any second now Neil knew he’d have to take a breath.
Just as his lungs began to burn, something heavy
was shoved against his face. Neil gasped against his will. Instead of breathing in the toxin, however, he found himself inhaling clean air. He pawed at the object against his face. He pulled it the rest of the way over his head, quickly finished off the soldier, and looked around for his savior. The only one in his vicinity was Jennifer. “You?” he called to her over the noises of combat.
“Thank me later,” she yelled back, burning through the masks of two soldiers at once. The holes she made rendered their masks useless, and after three seconds of breathing in the gas, both soldiers were lying motionless on the ground. He looked around for more men to fight, but there was nobody left standing other than his siblings.
“I think we beat them,” he started to say, but stopped himself. Waiting on the stairs in a stiff formation stood more soldiers. The room was silent except for the heavy breathing of Jennifer, Rhys, and Neil. One of the new soldiers stepped forward and approached them. “Vapros children,” he said in a cold voice, "surrender now. We will not harm you unless you resist.”
“Go to hell,” Jennifer said through her mask, throwing her knife directly into his stomach. The soldier hit the ground screaming. The group on the stairs began to file down, swords outstretched, and Neil prepared to charge them. Suddenly, a scream went up near the top of the stairs. The soldiers paused. More screams joined the first one, and then the soldiers were gone and Sir Vapros appeared on the bottom step. The stairs behind him were littered with small heaps of ash.
Victoria paled. “How many did…?” She couldn’t finish her sentence.
“I consumed about ten,” he answered. “We’re leaving. Now! It is no longer safe here.”
Victoria pulled a mask from a body on the floor and offered it to her father, but he shook his head. “There’s a gas,” she started to explain.
“The gas cannot harm me,” he assured her. “I am smoke.” He let his body transform back into a giant cloud and glided up the stairs. His family followed, watching in horror and awe as he enveloped every soldier they met and turned them into little piles of dust.
When they reached the second highest floor, Sir Vapros took human shape again. “We met much less resistance than I expected,” he mused. “The emperor sent a rather weak—”
Before he could finish, he was lifted off the ground by an invisible force. A figure emerged from the shadows, eyes an otherworldly black, hands outstretched. He had a familiar face, but Neil couldn’t quite place it. Victoria let out a scream.
Sir Vapros dematerialized out of the man’s hold, but before he could revert back into smoke the invisible force had taken hold of him again. The man clenched his outstretched hands into fists; Sir Vapros went flying into a wall headfirst. He landed on the ground with a thud and didn’t get up.
Neil ran to his father’s side. Sir Vapros's chest rose and fell slightly, but his head was bleeding badly. “Who are you?” Neil demanded, standing to face the intruder.
The man looked at Neil, an odd smile playing at his lips. “You don’t remember me?” he said in a raspy voice. “I’m insulted. We’ve met before. I suppose I looked a little different.”
Neil squinted, trying to remember. It came back to him in a sudden burst. “You’re the emperor’s servant,” he said. “The one he beats. You were there when I went to see him.”
The servant bowed. “Saewulf.”
Saewulf looked strikingly different. Apparently when clean, his hair was actually a burnt orange color. It was pulled away from his face and lapped down near his shoulders. His ragged servant-wear had been exchanged for well-made, tight-fitting, black clothing.
Victoria couldn’t take her eyes off her father’s unconscious form. “What are you?” she asked, with her voice catching.
He turned his gaze to her. “Not a student of history, I see.”
Jennifer stepped forward. “Answer her.”
Saewulf laughed. The sound sent chills down Neil’s spine. “You know the legends that surround your family. You tell me.”
Before any of them could respond, Saewulf whirled around and stretched his arms out toward Rhys. Neil’s brother was lifted into the air. He flailed and began to scream. Before Saewulf could do anything further, Neil and Jennifer were upon him. Saewulf dodged Neil’s blade, but Jennifer was able to nick him with her red-hot hands, and his concentration was broken. He dropped Rhys, who rematerialized on the other side of the room and sprinted up the stairs. His siblings followed. As they materialized through the small door and pulled off their gas masks, Neil could hear Saewulf charging after them. “Split up,” he said, panting. “Meet at the Opera House later.”
“But Dad,” Victoria began.
“He’s alive,” Neil assured her. “He was breathing. Split up!”
For once, nobody argued with him. They headed out into the night, dematerializing to avoid being seen. Neil had made it onto the rooftop when he heard the iron door being ripped off its hinges. Saewulf swung his arm and it clattered into the darkness. Neil turned to flee, but he heard his sister scream. He looked down to see Victoria, who had almost escaped, being lifted into the air. Saewulf dragged her back to the entrance of the house using his invisible force. “Surrender or she dies!” he screamed into the night.
Neil whipped his head around to look at Jennifer. For the first time in his memory, he saw real fear in her eyes. She took a half step back toward their house. “Don’t do it, Jen,” Neil cautioned. She looked at him, trembling, and he could see the conflict in her face.
“It’s your last chance!” Saewulf yelled. “I’ll kill her in front of your eyes!”
Victoria wasn’t screaming, but she looked out of her mind with terror. Jennifer made eye contact with Neil. “I’m sorry,” she mouthed and then materialized to the ground. “Don’t touch her!” she shrieked, running toward her sister. “I surrender! Let her go!” After a moment of internal struggle, Neil materialized to the ground and followed Jennifer up the street. He didn’t see Rhys. His brother had probably made it far away before Victoria’s capture. “Jen!” Victoria cried. Her voice echoed oddly, as if she were trapped in a giant bubble, “Don’t do it! Run!”
Jennifer stopped a few yards out of Saewulf’s reach. She was crying. “I’m not leaving you.” She turned to Saewulf, her knife drawn. “I’m here,” she said. “You have me. Let her go.”
Saewulf didn’t drop Victoria. She struggled to dematerialize away the way her father had, but she didn’t have enough energy. “Jennifer,” she begged, “you have to get away. Find Robert. Tell him . . . tell him I can’t meet up with him.”
Jennifer’s face was bathed in tears. “You’re going to get out of this. We all are. I’m here, Saewulf. Put her down.”
Saewulf smiled. He pulled Victoria in closer, keeping her suspended. “Something you should know about me since we only have just met,” he said lazily. “I’m a liar.”
He pulled Victoria in so close that he could reach out and grab her. He caught her neck in his glowing hand. Jennifer and Victoria screamed together. With a quick flick of Saewulf’s wrist, Victoria fell to the ground, neck twisted at an unnatural angle, eyes wide and blank.
Jennifer let out a snarl of rage and pain as she materialized in front of Saewulf faster than Neil had ever seen a human being move. She wrapped her hands tightly around his throat, and Neil swore her entire body glowed red as she burned him. With a yell, he threw her off; she landed in the street next to Victoria’s body. With a shuddery gasp, she gazed into her twin’s eyes and then began to sob uncontrollably. Neil ran to help her to her feet. “We can’t win this,” he gasped. Saewulf had his hands clasped around the raw skin on his neck, howling in pain.
Jennifer let Neil hold her. “He dies right now,” she vowed through sobs.
“He’ll die,” Neil promised, “but not now. We have to regroup first and then get stronger.”
Jennifer groped for her knife. “Now,” she snarled. Her hair was coming down from its ponytail, but she didn’t reach up to fix it. Neil let go of her. This was n
ot a Jennifer he’d seen before. Gone was the poised assassin; this Jennifer was wild, like a savage, like an animal.
“Please, Jen,” he begged. “Not tonight. We have to get out of here before he calls in reinforcements. We’ll die.”
“I don’t care if I die!” Jennifer screamed.
“Victoria would care,” he insisted.
At the name of her sister, something in Jennifer collapsed. New sobs filled with anger and pain racked her body as she sheathed her knife. “He will die,” she whispered to Victoria as she placed her hand on the back of her sister’s neck. They spent a few precious seconds watching the ash float away into the distance as Victoria dissolved. Then with one final look back, they ran into the darkness.
The empty Opera House felt ominous Neil noticed, but his siblings didn’t seem to care. Jennifer had run out of tears hours ago. She turned her knife over and over in her hands, sniffling and hiccupping. Rhys wept silently in the corner, head buried in his cloak. Neil was still in shock. No tears fell from his eyes because none of this felt real. It was all a dream, just a continuation of the nightmare he’d been having a few short hours ago. Any second now he’d wake up in his room and Victoria would be fine.
“So we’re on our own now?” Jennifer asked bitterly.
“I think we’re the only ones who escaped,” he answered.
“Do you think they’ll kill the others?” Rhys asked.
“No,” Neil said. “Why bother using gas to knock us out if the plan was to kill us? They want us alive.”
“We have to save them, “ Jennifer said. “We have to overthrow that bastard.”
Rhys laughed humorlessly and muttered, “You really think the three of us can topple the strongest man in Altryon?”
Jennifer looked at both or her brothers, a hint of steel returning to her voice. “We’re going to build an army. We’ll start with Robert.”
“Robert?” Neil asked.
“That boy from the slums—the one who followed Victoria everywhere.” Jennifer closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “She was in love with him. She never told me but I could tell. They were going to run away together. She never told me that either. But I know they were planning it. I saw how they looked at each other.” Jennifer wrapped her arms around her chest, as if she were physically coming apart. “If anyone will fight to avenge her, Robert will.”
