Thin Hope

by Holly Hook

  The palace was in pandemonium. There was no other way to describe it.

  Jack the butler slammed up against a wall as they ran past, letting his tray fall to the floor with a loud clatter. Shouts and screams echoed from the direction of the ballroom as an alarm rang out on the grounds outside, like a bird being strangled and trying to fight back. The sound drove a spike of panic through Kiki, making all her muscles tense and her heart race. The alarms hadn’t gone off in decades. Frelladon hadn’t faced any outright war in a long time, thanks to her father’s peacekeeping efforts.

  Now it was all shattered. Somehow, Keilara had made an enemy of its neighbor. The alarms blared louder as Damon beat Kiki to the bottom of the stairs, shotgun swinging in front of him like a club. Red beacon lights spun at every doorway like angry drops of blood. Footfalls erupted as a crowd streamed out of the ballroom, choking the bottom of the stairs and bolting for the closest exits. Doors opened and tried to slam back into people as a river of suits and dresses poured out of the building and towards the guest parking lot. Guards rushed through river of bodies, guns drawn, trying to reach the outside of the palace gates before the Delainians broke through.

  “Your highness! Where are you going?” A hand clamped down on her shoulder from behind.

  She whirled around, numb. The shouts and screams from the partygoers went on mute around her. A burly guard glared down at her and wrinkled his mustache.

  “You must report to the palace safe room. The Delainians want to capture you. You’re the oldest princess.”

  “No,” Kiki said. She hadn’t undergone years and years of training to go cower in a safe room. The partygoers needed all the protection they could get. It would take a while before their military could get here. Most of them were on the northern border, expecting an attack from there. “I’m going. You need all the help you can get out there.”

  The guard nodded. He knew. There was no arguing with her.

  “We’re going,” Damon said, sliding his hand into hers and squeezing. It sent a wave of warmth up through her arm and through her body. Her engagement ring pressed into her skin.

  The crowd thinned, leaving the door to the parking lot wide open. The stench of smoke wafted in as Kiki pulled Damon through the door to the sound of squealing tires and terrified motors.

  Cars pulled out of the lot, out onto Royal Avenue, and towards the glittering skyscrapers of downtown Frelladon as if the buildings could protect them from the Delainians. Cars blew through a red traffic light and the screech of tires echoed through the night. Beyond the lot, smoke curled and billowed into the sky, lit by the fires coming from the Industrial District and the old mining district. Bright lights flashed over the bay, rising from one of the ships, as the sound of helicopter rotors floated through the air. No Delainians were in sight yet, but it wouldn’t take long.

  The Delainian army was gaining on their front, and quickly. They had already taken the Industrial District, judging from all the fires and smoke near the factories. The governmental district wouldn’t be far behind.

  “Where’s our damn army?” Damon rushed for the parking lot gates, following the guards. He faced her as they ran. “Are you ready for this?”

  Kiki nodded, gripping the holsters of her desert eagles. They felt cold, deadly in her grasp. Without the Keilaran military here, they didn’t stand much of a chance. Maybe Patrick really had planned this out, for the army to be north of the city...no, that couldn’t be. He’d been too busy harassing her to do his job right.

  Footfalls echoed into the night all around them as the sound of car engines faded. Everyone who wasn’t armed was getting out. The sound of the helicopter grew louder, but it wasn’t one of theirs. It was the Delainian copter, and it was sure to be armed.

  “Stay close to the buildings!” Kiki shouted. Take cover. It was bad to be out in the open. Her drill sergeants’ words from the academy took over, and Kiki rushed through the parking lot gate and across Royal Avenue. The light of the palace faded behind her as the whooshing of flames teased the edge of her hearing.

  The group of palace guards fell apart ahead of them, vacating the street and disappearing into the shadows of the city. Kiki followed Damon to the side of a dark, concrete structure as a loud boom sounded somewhere nearby. Dim shouts followed it.

  The side of the Tax Building felt cold through her thin dress. Damon joined her, pressing up against the gray brick, inching towards the back street, towards the Industrial District. The stench of flames and burning fish filled Kiki’s nostrils, making a bad taste rise up in her mouth.

  Twin gunshots rang through the air.

  Kiki’s heart stopped. The air whooshed around her neck and a crack sounded from the wall next to her. Damon jumped and raised his pistol, squinting at the corner ahead of them.

  Two figures dashed around the building, coming into view under a streetlight. They both wore the black-and-red uniforms of the Delainian army.

  Instinctively she raised both pistols and aimed. The two soldiers stopped, searching the street for movement. They couldn’t see well in the total darkness. Kiki held her breath, keeping both barrels trained on the enemy, as Damon did the same next to her. She’d never actually killed anyone before. Patrick had been one thing—that was personal. This was different.

  A deafening boom rang through the air, and flames leapt up from farther down the street as a parked tanker exploded. Smoke mushroomed into the air as orange light covered the street.

  They were spotted.

  Instead of shooting, both of the Delainians stared them down. A shot rang out somewhere—a palace guard somewhere in the shadows—to ricochet off the side of the building.

  The first Delainian went down with a sickening thud as the second jumped back, dropping his weapon to the sidewalk. He was defenseless. They could take him out now. Kiki took a breath, held it, and aimed her weapon.

  Flames erupted somewhere again, filling the street with light. The second Delainian made no attempt to retrieve his weapon. He had eyes like black pits, a pair of eyes that looked even farther from human than the purple ones of the Emoshis.

  CDV. What had Darren Storm infected his people with?

  She had no time to ponder, because at that second, the screaming wind hit.

  Air shoved her back as Damon crashed into her. Her elbow struck the sidewalk, scraping skin and sending a burn running up her arm. Her desert eagles nearly slipped from her grasp, but she tightened her grip and raised them against the wind, towards the Delainian as her back hit concrete.

  A bang and the smell of smoke filled the air as her trigger finger moved on its own, followed by another, as Damon landed next to her, groaning. The wind and the Delainian’s stare was no match for a pair of bullets. They struck with a thud to the leg, and a second thud to the chest, as dark fluid splattered the building behind him. The wind stopped, as if choked off by a gigantic hand as the Delainian staggered, hit the wall, and slid to the pavement.

  Kiki lay there, frozen, staring at the two bodies lying on the streets of Frelladon. She’d heard all about war in the Academy...but it was different actually experiencing it. They had just killed two men.

  Damon started to rise as the palace guards shouted to each other on an adjacent street. “Damn Delainians.” He gave her a hand as his ice blue eyes stared into her own. “Not how I wanted to spend my evening.”

  “You. Freeze.”

  A rough male voice rang out from behind them. Damon swore as his grip tightened on his pistol. Kiki whirled around to face the threat. A black-and-red clad Delainian soldier stood there, staring at the two of them with those black irises that promised another windstorm if they dared move. But the shotgun in his hands said that they might not even get to that part.

  “Drop your weapons...Your Highness.” He stared right at her as a satisfied grin crept onto his bearded face.

  Kiki drew in a breath and let it out. If she dropped her weapons, she would be at the mercy of Darren Storm. Who knew what he had planned fo
r her and the rest of the city? If she was captured, her father might bend to his will. He’d never let harm come to any of his children.

  “I said, drop your weapons.” His gloved finger curled around the trigger.

  Kiki’s grip started to loosen on her desert eagles when another shot rang out, one much closer than the first two. The Delainian froze as another thud rang out, sending him crumpling to the ground, clutching his side. His shotgun fell to the sidewalk with a clatter as he lay there, panting and groaning. Wind blew down the street, but not with the same intensity as before.

  “You okay, Princess?” a voice called from across the street.

  The burly guard stood there, gun in hand, underneath a burnt-out streetlight. A green-uniformed body lay a few feet away from him. Kiki’s stomach turned over. One of their own had fallen out here.

  “She is,” Damon called. “Kiki, we can’t fight much longer. More are coming in.”

  He was right. More shouts rang down the streets as the tanker continued to burn. Figures ran around the flames, silhouettes against the orange flicker. Another breeze whipped down the street, sending a trash can rolling up against a doorway. Smoke wafted into her face as the Delainians came marching towards them, in two lines. There were too many to fight. Their only option was to retreat.

  The helicopter blades grew louder as yellow lights appeared overhead, making her squint. Something hung from the helicopter on four cables—something wide and orange and reflective. A barrier. The Delainians were going to block off the Industrial District, trapping them inside if they didn’t move fast enough. Already, other helicopters and yellow lights appeared from behind the Industrial Avenue loading dock.

  “Move!” Kiki shoved Damon back in the direction of the palace.

  Shots rang out and sparks exploded off the side of the trash can nearby. Kiki kept her pistols in a death grip, not looking back. The fight was over.

  Behind them, the barrier came down with a loud thud, effectively claiming Industrial Avenue in the name of Darren Storm.

  Chapter Four

  The King enveloped her in a hug the second Kiki got back into the castle with Damon, dress torn and shotgun still bouncing on her back. She relaxed in his grip, sweating and panting. Her throat burned from her sprint back to the palace grounds. The Delainians hadn’t followed her or the remaining guards through the barriers, but she wasn’t about to take any chances.

  Outside, engines rumbled as their own military reached the edge of the conflict, holding back the invaders. “Damon, can you close the door?” she asked.

  He did, shutting out the smell of smoke. The red-carpeted entry hall stood big and empty as the plants and lamps cast eerie shadows on the walls. Outside, guards shouted to each other as they set a perimeter around the palace. Helicopter rotors faded in and out as the Keilaran military reached the palace at last, no doubt setting up a perimeter of their own. Whether or not it would hold was a mystery, but at least it seemed Delainia was done advancing for the night.

  Her father hugged her tighter. It made her feel like a little girl again, back before she learned how to shoot and learned about her duty to protect her country.

  “Kiki, what happened out there? I need a report.” Her father’s voice struggled to remain strong and in control, but his voice trembled underneath. Her going out and fighting was getting him worked up inside, but he didn’t pursue the matter. It was the way of the Royal Family, and he would never dishonor that.

  “They put barriers up further down the street,” she said as her father’s hug loosened. “It doesn't look like they're trying to take the palace right now, but we can’t get through. I'm not sure our helicopters could fly into there. I've seen what CDV does." She went on to explain the Delainians' ability to control the air. "They could knock any helicopter we send out of the sky. They’ve taken the Industrial District, but they didn’t come any farther than Industrial Avenue. I think our military's the only thing that kept them from coming farther.” She stared hard at her father. “Have you seen Patrick?”

  His tone darkened. “Yes. He has been arrested.”

  They were the five most beautiful words Kiki had heard that evening. Other than Damon’s proposal, of course. Relief spread through her veins like cool water.

  He continued before she could respond, no doubt seeing the question on her face: how did you find out he tried to kill Damon? “Jack reported to the palace guards that he was headed up towards your room. Evidently, he’s heard rumors that he’d been harassing you, and knew that Damon was about to propose to you, so he put two and two together. Unfortunately, with the surprise attack, the guards weren’t able to arrest him sooner. They caught him trying to sneak out the kitchen entrance once things calmed down. I’m only wondering why he didn’t try to leave sooner after what he did.”

  Kiki knew. He’d hung around for one reason: her, and hoping to catch her before she went risking her life in the gunfight with those creepy...whatever the Delainians were now after their leader force-fed them that virus.

  The king turned away and stared hard into a painting at the wall for a moment, one of a peaceful meadow with a farmhouse in the distance. Riley had painted it for his birthday three months ago.

  “Also,” he said, “for your uncle’s incompetence in keeping our city safe, he has been permanently relieved of his command. I will be selecting a new Royal General tonight. For now, your mother will direct the army, as much as I know she hates military and political matters.”

  Kiki couldn’t imagine her normally soft-spoken mother giving soldiers orders, but things were desperate right now. “What do we do if the Delainians decide to invade the palace? They're not far off.”

  “She has a good question,” Damon said, emerging from a corner. His blond hair remained a mess and blood stained the shoulder of his white shirt like spilled wine, where a bullet might have grazed it. The sight of it made Kiki’s teeth hurt.

  “I don’t think they’ll attempt, at least, not tonight,” the King said, turning away from the painting. Dark rings had appeared under his eyes. “The military is mobilized now, thanks to your mother. We have our best forces surrounding the palace as we speak, and anti-aircraft fire for any helicopters that try to make it over here. According to your report, they seem to have set up a perimeter of their own. I doubt a thinker like Darren Storm will act without much planning. He is a scientist, after all.”

  “A loony,” Damon said. “Maybe he invaded us because he wants to spread his disease. Who knows with a psychopath like him?”

  A shudder raced up Kiki’s spine as she remembered the black irises of the Delainians. Who would do that to their own people? A power-hungry madman, that was who. The trade ban shouldn't have been enough to cause Darren to invade. The thought made her instinctively grasp the handles of her desert eagles. If anyone had been working late in the Industrial District—

  Her father seemed to have read her mind. “I’m sure that casualties were few, Kiki. Things would have been far worse had they struck a populated area. There’s not much more you two can do for now. You two might as well get some sleep.” The tone of his voice implied that he sure wasn’t going to get any tonight. He’d have to make a TV announcement in addition to his other duties to the people of Keilara. The King turned and disappeared down the Main Hallway, no doubt going to meet her mother to discuss military strategy at this late hour.

  Damon and Kiki didn’t speak to each other on the way to their bedroom. The silence grew heavy as her limbs started to tremble, ready to give out under her. There really weren’t any words to be said right now.

  The rose petals on the floor were crushed, ground into the carpet next to the bullet holes Kiki had put in the floor. The tablecloth lay halfway on the floor and Kiki’s plate of spaghetti lay on the chair, going colder and colder. It was hard to believe that only an hour ago, she’d been having the best evening of her life.

  Damon washed the cut on his shoulder in the bathroom as she changed out of the torn dress and p
repared for bed. There was nothing else to do at this point. The battle seemed to have drained the life right out of her. All thoughts of making love had abandoned her. Kiki fell back onto the rumpled bed as the yellow searchlights of their helicopters swung past the window.

  * * * * *

  Damon woke up some time later when Kiki accidentally kneed him in the leg. She’d been tossing and turning all night. He couldn’t blame her, of course.

  She groaned next to him, no doubt plunged into some nightmare. It wasn’t all because of the attack, either. His fists clenched to the point of pain. Now that he’d gotten some sleep and rested from the battle, something came roaring back into him like a freight train: anger.

  The palace still had an old-fashioned dungeon in its basement, left over from the old days, and with the prison over in the Industrial District, the guards would’ve had to have taken Patrick there instead. The dungeon had been redone ten years ago at Dawn’s insistence—she wouldn’t have a slimy, dim area filled with rats in the palace. Not that it was ever used to begin with, of course. Mostly it served as a storage area for paint cans, maintenance equipment, and cleaning supplies. The three cells remaining in there looked more like regular jail cells you’d see in any city prison. The last time they were used was when Kiki's mother had the guards put an angry drunk in one for the night. That had been during one of the dances she'd hosted.

  Distant voices echoed through the empty halls. The King and Queen were having a heated conversation in some corner of the palace. Damon didn't bump into any guards as his footsteps rang off the linoleum, filled with anger at the thought of Patrick. All the guards were outside, guarding the palace from any stray Delainians. He made his way down through the palace, past the kitchens, service offices, and down the custodians' stairwell to the basement. It was the best place for Patrick, except for maybe six feet underground.