by Jason Letts
Climbing onto the windowsill, Taylor steadied himself as he tugged on the sheets that would allow him to get to the floor below. The knots remained steady, but Taylor had little confidence that his weight wouldn’t drag the bed toward the window or even tear off the bed post and send him falling to the ground.
His first step against the exterior of the building went smoothly. He listened intently for any signs that the sheet would give before putting his other foot against the wall. Slowly, he lowered himself down. His room on the tenth floor receded above him, and Taylor began to shift his attention to the window below.
With their captives stranded in the top of the building, the entire Illiam camp had taken up residency in the Vault and the surrounding grounds. They’d built crude walkways to make the rock face underneath more navigable, and during the day the Hockleys watched in horror as their possessions and heirlooms were carried off.
Another step down and Taylor discovered that a light was on in the room on the floor below. There were always noises coming from the floors below, but no one could tell where any of the intruders were. If he were caught scaling the exterior of the building by one of the farmers, the only thing he could expect was a swift push off the edge.
Shifting to the left slightly, Taylor attempted to avoid the window by climbing around the windowsill, where drawn drapes would at least partially keep him hidden. The sheet in his hand jerked suddenly, putting Taylor off balance as the bed above jumped for the window, but Taylor managed to plant the bottom of his foot against the sill to steady himself. He’d reached the end of the sheet, which was just long enough for him to hold as he straddled the windowsill. Without it, there was nothing but his hands and feet keeping gravity at bay.
Peeking into the window, Taylor flinched when he saw a bearded man in a chair not two feet away, but the man was asleep and Taylor quickly sidled across to the other side. Farther to the right was one of the long steel beams composing the building’s modern style, but for now it would have to serve as a way to get down a few more floors.
Getting to the beam was not going to be a small feat. It was well out of reach for anything but a long leap, and worst of all Taylor’s hands were beginning to feel sweaty. He took a deep breath and jumped off the edge, reaching out for the narrow pole, which was barely visible from the darkness.
Taylor expected to grab the beam and again plant his foot against the wall to keep him in place, but his foot slipped and he dropped about ten feet before he could slow himself down. The slide made his hands burn, and he closed his eyes and huddled against the thin beam to stave off the pain. Letting go wasn’t a possibility.
Although he was still a long ways from the ground, he heard voices below. There were groups outside hanging around some of the tents. Taylor cursed his luck but had no choice but to keep going. If he could just make it to the ground he could sneak through, make it to the woods, and find a way back to Toine and Randall.
One hand after another, Taylor lowered himself down and switched beams when the first one came to an end. He always kept an eye on any nearby windows for signs of life, but it was the wall that told him people were nearby. Subtle reverberations were enough to hint that several of them were inside. He’d have to be careful as he maneuvered back to a windowsill farther to the right.
When he reached the bottom of the last beam, Taylor stuck his hand under the collar of his Guard uniform and produced a thin line that he tied to the beam and wrapped around his forearm. The line was good for another ten feet, which he used to descend lower and then swing to another windowsill.
When Taylor settled on the ledge, he took a deep breath and promised himself he’d never do anything like this again. The drapes were drawn completely across the window, giving him enough privacy to freely check the ground below. It seemed those loitering around outside had moved on, now if only Taylor could get to the ground he’d be able to find a spot to descend the rock face. Heading southwest would be the quickest way to the road connecting Ristle and Toine, where a ride would come along sooner or later.
But from his third-floor windowsill, jumping down was still more than he could stomach. Unfortunately the building didn’t have any more help to offer, and he was out of supplies that would help him get down. That meant the only way to keep going was the old-fashioned way. Gritting his teeth, Taylor grabbed hold of the sill and lowered himself down.
His muscles strained but held as he stretched out against the flat exterior. Glancing below, he tried to gauge the drop to the next windowsill. There were spots on the frame he might be able to grab a hold of, but there was an equal chance that the jarring movement would send him crashing through the glass. He tried to visualize dropping his feet directly on the ledge and then grabbing something to steady himself.
Chiding himself for dawdling about it, Taylor dropped to the floor below. His feet hit the ledge and his arms flailed in front of him for something to grab onto. His fingers didn’t find anything to hold, but he leaned forward and pressed his hands gently against the glass. He sighed, confident for the first time that he’d actually make it to the ground.
The drapes on the other side of the window swung open, hitting Taylor with a bright flash of light from the room. It was nearly blinding after his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but somewhere in the flash was the image of Portia Illiam, blond hair, golden gown, and all, pulling open the window. Behind her were dozens of her farmers.
Dismayed, Taylor glanced over his shoulder to find the ground below still clear. Jumping and running for it was a possibility, even if he had to jump clear off the rock face. He was strong enough to make it. But Portia’s hand closed around the front of his uniform.
Turning his head back to her, he could see she was unafraid. With his enemy so close, he considered striking her. One swift blow to the head or neck, especially with the full extent of his energy, might be enough to kill her, but before he could do anything her farmers piled in around her to pull him inside, hold him down, and prick him with the edge of knives.
“We knew you’d try to get away,” Portia said, wiping her hands off on her sides and crossing her arms.
“How did you know?” Taylor asked, beside himself. He had no idea what he was in for. Portia shook her head.
“Your mother told us,” she said. Taylor clenched his jaw with so much force it was a wonder his teeth didn’t shatter. It was unbelievable that he might’ve gotten away if not for his dear mother Melody.
Portia and a few of her henchmen escorted Taylor downstairs to the lobby, which looked strikingly different than the last time Taylor had seen it during the battle. Almost everything of value had been removed, leaving bare walls and floors, but the room had also been cleaned up and a new door installed where the previous one had been torn off. But for all that was different, the room still had the same chill thanks to the person standing in the center of it.
“I couldn’t let my baby boy stray too far from his crib,” Melody said beside a few farmers who were guarding her. It’d been hours since Taylor had seen her, and he hadn’t said a word about his escape, but somehow she must’ve known the moment he opened his window.
Taylor pursed his lips as he descended the stairs. Her hair ragged and clothes slightly maladjusted, Melody appeared exhausted but defiant.
“You always know how to help a family member in need,” Taylor said, shaking his head. One of the farmers pushed him when they reached the bottom of the stairs. His hands were tied behind his back, leaving Taylor to struggle to keep his feet under him.
“That’s enough of the passive aggressive family bullshit,” Portia said. The heels of her shoes clacked against the floor as she crossed the tile to them. “I’d go back to my chickens if I wanted to hear pointless squabbling.”
Melody mustered a disingenuous smile.
“Portia Illiam, how are you enjoying your stay? Is there anything I can get you, some fresh sheets, bath towels, a functioning womb?”
Portia returned an equally malicio
us grin. It was enough to make Taylor’s skin crawl.
“Tell me, how drunk did old man Bracken have to be to get aroused by a body like that? He must’ve felt like he was pounding a nail in a wooden plank. Never before did a woman whore herself out and offer so little for so much money,” Portia said. “But what else would you expect from a banker?”
“Excuse me,” Melody countered, crossing her arms and focusing a cutting glare, “but I’m not sure you’re in a position to judge other people’s marriages. If I recall correctly, there’s only one of us who couldn’t manage to keep a man around after he’d made his initial deposit.”
Portia chuckled. The longer this went on, the more Taylor wished he was anywhere else. It was only a matter of time until they got around to the real reason the Illiams were here, and he was tempted to push them in that direction himself in order to skip more uncomfortable sniping.
“Oh, yes, I must be the one with the problem for passing up the daily indignities and slights that come with having a member of the inconsiderate, clumsy, and self-absorbed male species around all the time in a marriage. You keep telling yourself that the next time you use your money to extort company from a man and find yourself suffering through pointless stories while he won’t even listen to a thing you say.”
Melody gritted her teeth, but Taylor spoke up before she could shoot back with another retort.
“What do we have to do for you to leave?”
Both Melody and Portia turned harsh gazes at him.
“I regret to inform you that after you demolished a large portion of my home, I’ve been looking for a new place to live and have decided to move in here. We’ll be redecorating, cleaning, and dealing with a nasty infestation of bloodthirsty fleas who’d suck on the teat of a sow if they thought they could get money from it,” Portia said.
“You’re a fool if you think you bumpkins are going to live here,” Melody grumbled, catching Portia’s attention. Before Melody could bat an eye, Portia slapped her across the face.
“Only we can use that word! And you’re a fool if you thought that you could spend your entire life fleecing the premier families without anyone catching on and punishing you for it. Interest fees, reserve withholdings, deductibles, I know every trick you use to legitimize your theft because I’ve read and understood every word in those odious documents you spend so much time trying to obfuscate.”
“We were gentler than we should’ve been,” Melody said.
Portia was fuming, her face becoming flushed and her breathing growing rapid. Taylor was tempted to see if he could wriggle out of his bonds and make a break for the door, but one aggressive squirm resulted in the sharp point of a knife pressed against his back deep enough to draw blood.
“But for all you’ve taken from us, you’re going to pay it back right now. There’s something we’re looking for that we haven’t been able to find.”
“Hockleys would sooner die than open their vaults,” Melody said.
“Many have,” Portia went on, running a hand through her wavy hair. “But we had some special technology that helps us get through the walls and bypass those silly locks of yours.”
“What?” Melody gasped. Taylor’s eyes widened as well. Those doors were impenetrable.
“Don’t believe me? Let me show you,” Portia said, turning on her heels toward the library. Taylor and Melody were pushed along behind her. They found the fake section of wall blocking the staircase down to the safes torn off. All of the lights were on below, though much of it got caught against thick dust in the air.
When they reached the safe rooms, they were just as Portia had said. Every one of the vault doors had been opened, or to be more exact they’d been melted through. As they walked by they peeked into vault after vault, most of them filled with gold coins, Cumerian count, or other valuables. Some of the money had spilled into the hall where it collected footprints.
At the end of the hallway was a large machine that looked light-years more advanced than anything the Illiams were known to possess. Taylor was pretty sure they were using some kind of acid to burn through the safe doors, but it wasn’t until they got close to the machine that he was able to figure out how exactly they came by that method. On the side of the machine was a familiar symbol belonging to a very notable company.
“The Lu Dynasty gave you this?” Taylor asked. After all they’d done for Randall, to see them now helping the Illiams was striking. Considering the price Randall had paid, what had the Illiams given in exchange for this? Portia had a smug expression on her face.
“When the Illiams need a favor, our allies don’t hesitate to offer their help. But as it happened none of these rooms contained what we were looking for. That means we need you, Melody Hockley, to tell us where it is.”
Melody looked at her as if she had three heads.
“After everything you’ve done here, if you think I’m going to tell you anything you can go fuck yourself with a garden trowel.”
Portia shook her head.
“Let’s try this again. Your vaults have already been compromised. Your money is gone. Half of your family is dead and the lives of the other half depend on whether or not you can point me to the one thing you know I need. It’s of absolutely no value to you anymore. Give it to me. Now.”
Portia took a step toward Melody, staring so intently that she forced Taylor’s mother back against the wall. The two women were nearly of the same height and both had little restraint about showing their most threatening sides. But for all of Portia’s scathing demeanor, she couldn’t get anything more than a quizzical expression out of Melody.
“The one thing I know you need? What?” Melody asked.
“The maps,” Portia said.
“What maps?” Melody asked.
Taylor took the unsettling silence that followed as an opportunity to look astray and examine the acid machine from the Lus that had destroyed all of the doors to the safe rooms. It was black, had a curious tall and slender shape, and contained numerous bubbles fixed to the sides that must’ve contained the clear acid. The machine appeared pretty heavy and seemed to have plenty of acid left in the bubbles. Taylor wasn’t sure he could even squeeze around it.
Portia’s sigh brought Taylor back to the impending confrontation.
“Don’t play coy with me, you money-grubbing slut. Tell me where Lowell Bracken’s maps of Cumeria’s secret power infrastructure are or my friends here will bury you in a vault you’ll never get out of,” she said.
“Secret power infrastructure? Lowell didn’t have anything of the kind, and neither do I for that matter. If that’s what you’re looking for you’re not going to find it here,” Melody said, dispelling Ralph’s ruse. Whatever advantage he’d given them by performing this trick had been squandered. The Vault had been largely destroyed, but the Illiams and Wozniaks were still grave threats. Portia was so close, but there were about ten farmers in the cramped hallway with them. Taylor didn’t think he could move an inch toward her without getting slammed back against the acid machine.
Portia reached out and clamped her right hand onto Melody’s jaw.
“I’m not fucking around here,” Portia said, her fingernails digging into Melody’s face. “I know you have those maps, and I want you to give them to me now. We can’t march on Toine until we have them and can shut anyone down who gets in our way.”
“What makes you think I have them?” Melody asked, squirming and in pain. It was uncomfortable for Taylor to watch, even after she spoiled his escape attempt.
“His will,” Portia continued. “We have his will, and in the envelope containing the maps was just a note from you saying they belonged to you to. Does that ring a bell? You’re running out of time.”
Even though she was turning red and must’ve been near bleeding, Melody produced a grin through her thin, round face.
“I never wrote anything like that. I’m not even sure Lowell had a will. At the very least he didn’t have any secret maps in it. You think you’r
e so smart, but you’ve been tricked again. The maps don’t exist. The will doesn’t exist. You’ve swallowed a mouthful of horseshit,” Melody said.
“No,” Portia cried, taking her hand off of Melody’s face, where there’d be bruises from the pressure. “They have to be here. We need those maps. They’ve got to be somewhere around here.”
“Who told you about the will?” Melody’s question got Taylor’s heart rate up. The deeper they delved into the plot, the sooner they’d find out that one of the people in on it was standing right beside them. Taylor needed to find a way out, because once they knew he had helped facilitate the entire thing his head would be fertilizer. But the acid machine was blocking the rest of the hallway.
“That slovenly meatball of a lawyer. I was so eager to get an edge over Wozniak and Keize that I took the envelope for myself without questioning the situation,” Portia said, crossing her arms. She was fuming.
“A lawyer? You don’t mean Ralph Fiori, do you? He’s always been tied up with Lowell and wouldn’t miss a chance to help out any of the Br…”
Melody turned her head to cast an invasive look at Taylor. His stomach turned and his mouth went dry. It was that look that removed any last doubt about whether or not his mother was an enemy.
“Taylor, did you know about this? Is that why you came here?” Melody asked.
“No, I have no idea…”
“You’re lying. I see you’re back to wearing that Guard uniform. Members of this family have died wearing that uniform to protect Cumeria, but you do nothing but tear it down. You’re a disgrace to the Guard and a disgrace to this family.”
“You told them when I was trying to escape. How could you do that? Whose side are you on?” Taylor said.
“You were just trying to save your own ass so no one would find out what you were trying to do. Whose side are you on?” Melody said, her voice reaching a piercing screech.
