by Snow, Wylie
“Kind of. It was tie, so they made us do this extra trial—”
“The bear grease thing?”
“No,” she said, surprised he’d remembered the story, seeing how he was just pretending to listen, pretending to be interested in what she had to say.
“What then?” he asked, his tone way pricklier than it should have been, considering it was she who was wronged.
“Have you ever heard of thanatosis?”
“Bad breath?”
“Not halitosis, thanatosis. Never mind. Suffice to say, I won.”
“Well then, you answered your own question, Cleo. My dear old grandfather wants the leader. Not Jag, the favorite to win. You. And I gotta tell you lady, the entire Shield has their collective breeches in a twist over you ditching the swearing in ceremony—”
“How do you know—”
“And there’s a rumor going around that Jag left to avoid being washed.” Libra’s voice grew louder, his words spilled together. “And what about Simon’s disappearance? Did you go off a waterfall looking for him, too? There are a group of old men who are calling it an unfair competition, and saying you and Jaegar went off to fight until the death. Or maybe you’re both going to hunt down or take down this Simon fellow. I really can’t figure out what the fuck is going on in your zhang-damn tribe, Cleo, so how about you take a moment and fill me in on the games you and your brother are playing, cause this whole mess is making me feel like a dirty monkey in the middle.”
“None of that is true,” Cleo said. “It was a clean win. It wasn’t my problem that Jag couldn’t possum. Technically, I am the leader-elect. But I’m not going to kill anyone. I’m going to bring him home.”
“So he can be washed. And why do I feel that’s a code word for kill?”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re confusing everything!” Cleo shook her head. How could she possibly explain the rules to an outsider? “I don’t know where Simon is but he has nothing to do with this. And yes, I did win. But Jag should have won. Not because of the stupid competition, but because he is a better leader. Those people need him. They adore him, they look to him for guidance, they trust him. Me?” she shrugged. She’d never put voice to her feelings, but it felt right to confront them here and now with the one person who wouldn’t care to judge her. “I’m just about winning. Nobody wants to follow me. I don’t fit with people, never have. Besides, I could survive the wash. Jag couldn’t.”
Libra’s face went blank.
“It’s complicated! You can’t possibly understand how it all works—not without spending time with the tribes. All you need to know is that I did something to disqualify myself, but Jag doesn’t know that yet. That’s why I have to find him. He’s the leader-elect by default.”
“Then they must know. Achan, the Energy Collective—somehow, they know you won. They know he doesn’t have the authority, hence the change in orders.”
“Authority for what?”
“Something to do with signing papers. All this,” he said, spreading his arms, “is about a signature on a line. Mining rights or something. So sign the damn paper and go home.”
“Why wouldn’t they just go to my father?”
“They did, Cleo. They were unsuccessful.”
“No they didn’t. I would know if any kind of negotiating was going on. I would have heard the talk—”
“It was twenty-one years ago!” he said through gritted teeth.
“How is that relevant? I was barely born—”
Lightning struck. A big, horrifying bolt of enlightenment. “That’s why the Guards came? To negotiate?” Finally, after all the years of evasive answers from her father, the truth about her birthday came from the mouth of her sworn enemy. “So then what?” she challenged. “My father wouldn’t sign, so they murdered my mother?”
“No,” he said, yanking her arm forward to hurry her. “The soldiers went to support the negotiator, a scientist, Doctor Bronson Cade.”
“Doc Bee,” she muttered. “Yes, I know about him.”
“That was my father. He went to negotiate but ended up being held captive, for months. By your clan.”
Libra’s words fell like a trickle of ice water down her back.
“No, no. That’s not right,” she muttered. “You have it all twisted.” Cleo’s feet dug into the pebbled stones of the shoreline, just steps from the thick metal plank that would take them aboard the boat. She spun through memories, snippets of conversations, whispered stories, and unanswered questions, until the connections began to form. Doc Bee, Doctor Bronson. Gomedan Guards. Libra’s father, murdered on the same day as her mother, on the same day she was born in the stone cottage in the woods.
Frack pushed past them, jarring her from the past.
“You’re wrong,” she said, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re all wrong.”
“No, I’m not. I’m sorry about your mother, truly I am. But your tribe murdered my father, a peaceful, unarmed scientist, acting as negotiator. She was probably caught in the fray.”
The pressure in Cleo’s chest grew until she thought her heart and lungs would crush from it. She bit the inside of her cheek but couldn’t hold back the tears.
No, no, no! He was wrong. She shook her head and glared at him. His jaw was locked and his nostrils flared with each breath. His ignorance, his refusal to listen, to understand, snapped her. Her head buzzed as if swarmed by angry bees. “Listen to me, urbanite! I don’t know what exactly happened to your father, but I do know my father wouldn’t speak of Doc Bee with such respect and affection if he’d had anything to do with a murder. Doc Bee wasn’t a captive. He had, has, his own cottage, which my father still visits every damn day, like it’s some kind of shrine! He won’t let anyone occupy it. Lewin might be a first-class warrior, but he would never, ever murder anyone.”
She was done with Libra Cade. She would go with these people to Gomeda, sign whatever they wanted her to, find Jaegar and leave. She pivoted with the intention of getting on that damn boat and away from the outsider.
His grip locked on her upper arm and he spun her back around.
“Well he did, Cleo, so get used to it. I don’t know what lies you were told—”
“Shut up, shut up!” If only her hands were free to cover her ears. Instead, she gripped the warm stone that hung against her chest while her heart pounding angrily beneath against her breastbone. “You don’t know what happened! You weren’t there!”
“I know exactly what happened! The story is family lore. And worse, I saw the pain on my mother’s face when my grandfather broke the news. She crumpled to the floor like a heap of rags. I see the scene replayed in my head every time I look at her. And she’s still a crumpled heap of rags!” His breath was coming as fast and hard as hers, but his tone became eerily quiet. “I was only four, Cleo, but I remember wishing I had magic powers so I could lift her back up and fix everything. But I couldn’t.” His voice cracked. “My father was gone and I had to take care of her and Libby, but I didn’t know how.”
Without easing the grip on her arm, he leaned in close. “And how can you even defend that bastard after the way he’s treated you? How can you say he’s not a murderer when he won’t even look in your eyes?”
“I know what my father is, I’ve no illusions. But he didn’t kill you father. The soldiers did.”
Libra’s eyes squinted. “Do you know what you’re saying? Those soldiers work for my grandfather. Do you understand what you’re implying?” He tightened his hold on her bicep.
“The guards raped her! Raped her and beat her because she tried to defend Doc Bee while my gram went to get help, to find my father, because he wasn’t even there.” Cleo tried to rub her face into her shoulder to dry the wet tracks down her cheeks. “She was pregnant with me at the time. Do you understand, you ignorant son of
a bitch?” She swung her head to the side and thrust her jaw out so he’d get a good look at the evidence. “And when he got there, he had to cut me out of her stomach because she was dead.”
The damn holding back her rage crumbled as tears coursed down her cheek.
Libra dropped his hand and took a step back, his face devoid of any emotion.
“Don’t you believe me?” Her voice hitched. “Don’t you?”
He flicked his eyes toward the boat, to Trevayne, who stood on the deck holding up a dark shape, with a green light glowing inside.
“Look at me, damn you!” She got his attention by pounding her fists against his chest. “You have to believe it because that is how it happened. That’s the truth.”
His face remained passive and unflinching. He glanced at her, then back at Trevayne.
“Damn you!” she screeched, pummelling him. “Look at me, urbanite. Tell me you believe me!”
He nodded at Trevayne and her world went black.
Thirty-One
The boat was a long, narrow metal tube resembling a half-sunk submarine. Solar inductors rimmed the perimeter, giving the vessel stability and power. By day, they were too hot to stand near, but at night, they acted as a deck. The hold was divided into three sections—Trevayne would be in the wheel house up front and no doubt the goon squad would land in the day quarters, which took up the largest section in the middle, so Libra took unconscious Cleo to the engine room at the back. He made a nest from a pile of tarps and ropes and laid her unconscious form in the middle. He placed the slightly soiled feather pillow, into which he’d slipped the throwing knife, under her head.
With mechanical indifference, he undressed her, numbing his mind to what she felt like, what she looked like in the dim light. After re-bandaging the wound on her leg and treating the cut on her cheek with first-aid ointment he found onboard, he dressed her in the new outfit.
He felt shitty about signaling Trevayne to activate the implant again, especially having to witness the satisfied glint in the asshole’s eye as he pressed the button, but it was the only way Libra was going to get Cleo onto the boat. And the only way he could get through this.
If only she hadn’t become hysterical. But he couldn’t risk her wrist bindings coming off while she pummelled him with her fists. Trevayne would have retied them himself, and she’d have no hope of wiggling free, or having blood circulate into her fingers.
Nor could he bear her accusations or the hatred in her eyes.
Her story was wrong. Had to be. And her impressions of his grandfather were way off. Achan could be a hardass, a manipulative bugger with single-minded purpose, but he wasn’t a monster. He would never sanction the heinous act of violence she described. The old man would buy his way out of a situation before he got his hands dirty. That wasn’t his style at all.
But it bothered him that she believed the Taiga fairy-tale they made up to appease the little girl who’d lost her mother, conveniently casting Achan Cade as the big bad wolf.
Libra tried to dredge up some animosity towards her, some contempt. He reminded himself she lied about her status, her purpose, anything to cause him enough annoyance to replace the ache of losing her trust. Nothing came. He still saw a beautiful, smart, vulnerable girl whom he’d wronged.
Libra scrubbed his hands over his face. He felt ripped in two, poisoned, and possessed.
He leaned over her to tuck a note into the pocket of her buckskin coat but couldn’t resist touching her, just once more. He pushed back the silken strand of hair that had fallen over the side of her face, surprised by the jolt he felt when he came in contact with the warmth of her cheek. He let his hand linger, smoothing her scarred cheekbone with his thumb, wishing he could erase the mark she loathed. Not the visible scar—that was part of her, part of her unique beauty—but the emotional damage beneath.
Zhang-damn, he ached for her. He ached for the baby whose passage into life was marred by tragedy and for the self-conscious little girl who craved the love of her father. He ached for the woman whose conscience drove her to please the men in her life—men that were indisputably unworthy of her. Himself most of all.
Libra drew in a ragged breath as he tried to memorize her face, burn her image into his brain so he’d never forget. Not that he ever would.
It pained him to leave her here, in Trevayne’s hands, but he had no choice. Their fight and her subsequent nerve-coma meant he had to alter his plans at the last minute. And Libra had no intention of breaking his promise to find her brother and get both of them out of the city. He just wouldn’t be directly involved, but he knew just the man for the job. From this point on, he’d oversee but not be seen. It would be unbearable, for both of them.
Libra boosted himself out of the hold and made his way to the deck. The boat slid through the water at an amazing speed. His knees wobbled, and he couldn’t seem to get his bearings in the dark. Which way was shore? Which way was home? He’d never before felt so…directionless.
Chilly spray from a wave hit the side of his face, stinging his skin with its toxic content, but that didn’t stop him from leaning over the thin rail. The motion of the boat as it skimmed through the Dead Lake made his head spin and his stomach burn. Or maybe he got an ulcer from eating snake. He gagged, wishing he could throw up, get the whole sick mess out of his system.
There are some felonious talents you pick up as a rebellious teen that serve you well into adult life. Lifting Trevayne’s satcom had risks, but Libra had a knack for picking pockets and breaking lock codes, and a singular determination to play by his own rules. Frick and Frack’s, respectively, were even easier to steal since they clipped them to their belts. He didn’t know if their coms could override the implant controls on his own device, the way Trevayne’s could, but he couldn’t chance it.
The first stage of his plan was to make sure Cleo stayed unconscious for the journey. It was better for everyone that she not awaken. As long as she remained quiet, Trevayne would leave her be. After programming her implant, he slipped two of the stolen coms over the starboard rail, holding on to his own and Trevayne’s. He had calls to make.
The first was to his team. Those guys knew how to deal with a call to action and didn’t waste time asking a lot of stupid questions. Libra issued them a brief directive and they were ready to go.
The second communication proved more difficult, but it had to be done.
“It’s me,” Libra said.
“This is quite a surprise. I didn’t expect to hear from—” Achan paused a moment before resuming in a cool tone. “What happened? Did she get away?”
“No. She’s here.”
“Good. How long until you get her to me?”
“Tomorrow, if the weather holds.”
“Don’t bring her here until after curfew.”
Of course. Achan wouldn’t want a triber to be seen walking into the head office of DynaCade. Libra stifled an urge to scream. “I just wanted to make sure you haven’t forgotten your part of the bargain.”
“You’re a free man. The records are purged.”
“No, that’s not what I mean. I was referring to—”
“The money? Libra, my boy, you surprise me,” Achan chuckled. “You always pretended you didn’t like my wealth.”
Libra gritted his teeth. “Don’t.”
“You’ll find that I’m a man of my word. I’m transferring the money into your account as we speak.” Libra linked to his bank and felt the slightest release of tension upon seeing the balance rise. He coded in a password to initiate a sequence of transactions that would move all his money into a dozen fake accounts that would take Achan’s accountants a decade to trace, just in case they had any notion of fouling the deal.
“I see it. Thanks. But that’s not what I’m talking about,” Libra said. “You told me this was a simpl
e business deal.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Mining rights. That’s all you want? She signs them over and you let her go?”
“Flowery details, son. No need to concern yourself.”
“But I do. What did you find up there that you suddenly need access to?”
“I don’t have time for this now. Come and see me when you get back. We’ll talk.”
“Now. Or I don’t bring her to you.”
“Have you forgotten why you were sent to the colony? What motivated you to do what you did?”
“People needed those medical supplies to survive.”
“And you care about those retched beings over in New Chicago?”
“Of course I do. They deserve to live, to have basic human rights.”
“So you justified stealing from one to aid a few.” By ‘one’, he meant himself. It was a Dynacade warehouse they’d sacked.
“I justified it because you greedy bastards put a price on basic human rights. You charge exorbitant prices for basic medicines and drug therapies; things that would help them survive! But you deny them access and—”
“You and I are no different, boy,” Achan said, cutting off his rant. “You think it’s okay to steal from those who have and give it to those who don’t. Well, the Taiga has the resources to give us the power we need to help those very same people. No more rolling blackouts, no more shutting down factories. More supplies, lower costs, we could not only provide more jobs, but give them the ability to pay for the things you’ve been stealing for them.”
Libra blew out his breath. Achan’s twisted logic offended his honor code. Right now he needed some distance, needed to think, to either justify or rectify everything he’d been a part of. “Listen, I need you to promise me you won’t lay a hand on her or I don’t bring her in.”
