The shorter man of the group, with olive skin and eyes black as night buried his hand in his dust covered cloak. When it reappeared, a black box the size of a small brick was clutched in his fingers.
“You have made a grave error coming here.” The woman spoke in a flat tone. She wasn’t making a threat, just stating a fact.
The olive-skinned man flexed his fingers. Whatever the device was, it wasn’t good.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” Triven nodded to the small man and the box clutched in his hand. “Yours will do what? Take us out?”
I twisted my palm and the silver bomb moved with it. “Ours will take out six blocks. Sanctuary grade titanium bomb. Designed to obliterate everything within your sight.”
The slightest flicker of interest piqued the woman, but the men remained skeptical.
“Impossible, no one can breach The Wall.” The man holding the box scoffed.
“We did. Want to test mine against yours?” Recklessly, I made an upward tossing motion and the bomb lifted higher before settling back to hover an inch off my palm. I couldn’t help but smile when they flinched and took a step back. But Triven too stiffened and I sobered up.
“We’re not here to make threats.” I offered.
No weapon lowered.
“Our streets say otherwise.” The tall man countered.
“No damage has been done to anything vital.” Triven’s voice was a little higher than normal, but they wouldn’t notice. “Our intent was never to harm, but to extend an invitation.”
“We do not meddle with others.” The woman said in her flat tone.
“The Ravagers would say otherwise.” I threw their words back at them and the first hint of a smile cracked their stoic facades. They were the epitome of aloof—calculating and emotionally reserved—so like Veyron and so opposite of Baxter.
“They attacked first, we responded accordingly.” The smile had left the woman’s eyes.
I imagined the tension rising from our friends on the rooftops. The Ravagers had not attacked, but the Subversive members had made it look like they did. Our original plan to divide the Tribes and start territorial warfare could very possibly be the undoing of Ryker’s plan. What was that silly old saying? Too many cooks in the kitchen or something like that. Now we had gallons of boiling water and everyone was ready to dump it on each other.
A younger man was shoved from the open doorway. Like the other Tribe members his head was cleanly shaven. A ring of purple paint crowned his skull. But unlike the others’ cool demeanor, the young man shook from head to toe. He was followed by a fair-skinned woman with an ample chest that was barely covered by gold plating. She kept a gun pointed at the man’s chest. The Watchmen ignored them, and in turn, so did we.
My mind was still doing the math. Five to two now. The younger man sniffled and I spoke to block him out.
“What if I could offer you the opportunity to get back at the ones who trapped you here?” My arm lowered a little, the muscles growing tired. “What if I told you, you could breech The Wall yourselves. Take back what you’re owed. If you were willing to form a temporary alliance.”
“More lies—” The original woman spoke first, but the smaller man next to her eyed my bomb hungrily and cut her off. “What else is in it for us?”
We focused on him—Apple. The nick name seemed to fit his round, red face.
“Weapons. Food. Freedom. It’s your choice.” Triven flicked a knife between his long fingers. Apple watched the blade roll in his expert hands.
“And we are to trust you that this so-called bomb is from beyond?” The tall man—Legs, for now—eyed the silver object in my hand. “Give it to us, let us inspect it for ourselves.”
Triven smiled wryly. We had anticipated this.
“We’re not that desperate for your alliance.” I said, “But in good faith…”
Triven flicked his wrist and sent the knife flying over the crater and into the dirt at Legs’ boots. “A gift. You will find nothing like that here.”
The man bent and picked up the pristine weapon. It was an electrified dagger, designed to stab and fry a person from the inside out. The Adroit marveled at the weight before firmly grasping the knife in his palm.
“Kadence,” he said quietly. Without hesitation the busty woman—Kadence apparently—kneed the younger man in the back of the legs causing him to stumble forward. His shivering limbs barely missed colliding with the Watchmen.
“This was your sector, Carell?” Legs asked.
“Yes,” the boy, Carell’s voice was deeper than expected.
“And you failed to guard it?”
The boy’s eyes darted to us. “Yes.”
“Penance, brother.” The older man said. Then with a swift motion, thrust the knife into Carell’s chest and jammed his thumb down on the back of the hilt engaging the electricity. Triven’s breath caught as my free hand flexed around one of the knives Archer had given me. If anyone so much as twitched in our direction, I would place it between his or her eyes.
Every muscle in the young man’s body tensed. His eyes popped wide while his jaw clamped down undoubtedly on his tongue. Blood burbled from his lips as the boy’s eyes slid back in his head. Smoke emanated from his skin, sizzling from the inside out and then he was falling. Away from the Watchmen, away from the knife still clutched in Legs’ hand and into the pit separating us. The ringing in my ears had dulled and I could hear his body hit the barbs below. I blinked slowly, forcing myself not to look down at the dead man.
Legs gazed at the bloody knife with a hint of disgust and admiration. “Not our usual choice, but impressive. This certainly is not of our world, sister.” He passed the weapon to the tall woman who inspected it, careful to avoid touching the blood.
Killers without a taste for blood. Ironic.
“Join the alliance and there will be more where that came from.” I twisted my wrist causing the bomb to glint in the green sunlight for emphasis. “We’re gathering in two days, when the moon is high. Follow the white smoke.”
“And if we chose not to join?” The woman asked.
“Then we’ll stay out of your way, and you’ll stay out of ours.”
“This is not our decision to make.” Legs cut in. Although the woman shot him a sideways glance, she did not contradict him.
“We’re not asking you to make a decision now.” Triven replied.
I finished his thought. “You have one day to consider. Come or don’t. But that choice belongs to your leader.”
It was a desperate move to bait them into spreading our words. To remind them they had to tell Wex—or whoever the new leader was. There were hierarchies. Rules of the Tribe that must be obeyed. The Adroits’ faces remained void of emotion and I had the sudden urge to get away from them. To run. Instead, I shrugged off the tension in my shoulders and licked the roof of my mouth. The scratching in the back of my throat was starting to feel more like barbed wire now.
“You still owe us for damages.” The shortest man took a step forward, the black box still clenched in his left hand as he motioned at the craters the bombs had created.
“Want to collect? Meet us in two days. But for now, we’re square.”
Triven’s hand flashed upwards and Baxter didn’t miss the signal. Before the Adroits could so much as blink, there was a whistle of a bullet, then the ball Triven had tossed into the air exploded into a cloud of dust. My fingers fumbled over the bomb as Ryker had showed me, but before I could place it in my pouch, the smoke swallowed us. Two shots rang out from across the pit and we dove. The bullets went wide. I choked on a cough and Triven’s fingers searched my face, pulling up the mask to cover my mouth and nose as I stowed the bomb. I could barely see his face inches from my own. There were three more shots, one snagging my hair as it barely missed us.
Panic began to spur my heartrate as Triven’s shaking fingers burrowed into my forearms.
Where the hell was Veyron?
25. GATHERING
E VERY C
URSE IN my extensive vocabulary perched on the tip of my tongue and had it not been for the lingering effects of the dust bomb causing me to cough like a leper, I would have set them free on the ex-Adroit. We were four buildings away now, safely out of range and sight of the Adroits.
“Did. You. Get. Lost?” I managed to get out between coughs. I glared at Veyron and she glared back.
“Baxter put too much powder in the bomb. You’re freaking lucky I found you at all!” Her chest heaved and she spat out a mouthful of dust.
“Don’t blame me. That bomb was made to perfection.” Baxter cut in, temporarily pulling his eye back from the scope. “You asked for cover. I gave you cover.”
“Yeah, almost enough to get us killed.” Veyron said sourly.
“Enough.” Triven cut over our bickering. “Baxter did his job and Veyron got us out alive. We were luckier than Elin.” Shame quickly subsided everyone’s rage. Triven was right. He placed a comforting hand on Baxter’s shoulder and pretended not to notice when Veyron twisted away from a similar touch. Triven turned to me, “How many miles to the next safe house?”
“Ten. We’re headed to the heart of the city as planned.”
“Then let’s get moving.” Triven was quick to shoulder his bag and roust the others. I was slower to move. I paused to move the bomb from my hip pouch to a more secure position in the backpack I had left here for safekeeping. The tips of two worn boots stopped next to the bag as I secured the flap.
“Four out of four ain’t bad there, crap leader.”
I craned my neck to fix Archer with a hard stare.
“At least nobody died this time.” She paused and then shrugged, correcting herself. “Well, none of us.”
“I’m starting to think you’d be a crap leader yourself.”
She smiled despite the tartness of my tone.
“Hence why I haven’t volunteered to lead shit.” Archer fell into step next to me as I headed toward the next roof. “You could learn something from me. Number one, don’t be an idiot.”
I managed a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind next time I have the urge to act like an idiot.”
“You’re always an idiot.”
“You’re always a pain in the ass.”
“And proud!” Archer slowed, letting Otto and Cortez pass us before dropping her voice. “Seriously though, you did good… With all of this. Better than any of us expected.”
I eyed the rest of the group. We hadn’t lost a single person this time, but spirits were far from high. Arden was lingering on the roof’s ledge across from us. His hands twitched, fingers clenching and unclenching in sporadic rhythms. His eyes were wild, jumping at every movement they saw—real and imagined.
I had done that to him.
“It will be worth it.” Archer had followed my gaze.
“Not if they all don’t show. Not if they choose not to side with us. This was the easy part.” I picked up the pace again and Archer left me to run alone.
THE CITY WAS silent. The calm before the storm.
It was unsettling.
Only the Ravagers hunted the streets, howling in rage when they could not find any victims. Could they sense it? Would they know we were gathering without them? I hadn’t worried about it at first, counting on the fact that most of the other Tribes hated the Ravagers more than any the others. But after our run-in with the Taciturns, obviously we hadn’t been as discreet as we thought.
We sent Cortez and Baxter out to watch the Ravagers. To signal if there was movement in our direction. So far, the only thing filling the sky was black smoke from a few Ravager temper tantrums. Still, my eyes constantly flicked to the skyline like the tick of my father’s watch. My fingers searched for the familiar smooth metal that usually hung at my chest, only to remember it now rested against Mouse’s heart. It was impossible not to think of the little girl—to not worry about the child I would save at any cost. But as Mouse’s soft face haunted me, I knew I had to tuck all thoughts of her away. For now. The child had brought out another side of me, the girl known as Prea who had begun to live again, to love. But tonight, the Tribes didn’t need a human, they needed a legend—a myth. They needed Phoenix.
They needed a stone-cold calculating killer.
They wouldn’t listen to—never mind follow—any less.
The lines between the two parts of me had begun to blur and I needed to sever them. At least for tonight.
Despite the brave front I had perfected, there was a rising panic pulsing in my veins. In a few hours, I was going to intentionally trap myself in a relatively enclosed space with four of Tartarus’ Tribes. This was undoubtedly the stupidest thing I had ever done.
There were light steps padding behind me followed by my favorite voice.
“It looks like we’re set. There hasn’t been any movement in the sector for the past twenty-four hours. Nos reported the huddle of Scavengers moved on this morning and there is still no sign from Baxter and Cortez.” Triven stopped next me, his shoulder barely touching mine. I leaned into him, folding in further as his arm wrapped over my shoulders.
Desperation cut suddenly and deeply like a hot blade. Swiveling on my toes, I pressed my body against his and crushed my mouth onto Triven’s surprised lips. Our teeth clashed, lips first moving awkwardly then finding their rhythm together. My fingers were wound in Triven’s hair, pulling hard but he didn’t complain. Instead he lifted me, pulling my legs around his waist. His fingers left a hot trail as they traced my ribs and clutched my thighs. It was the most we had touched since escaping the Sanctuary. It was desperate and reckless—driven by fear. And it was over far too soon.
Triven’s broad chest heaved against mine as our foreheads rested together. His skin was flushed, smelling uniquely like him.
“They’re going to kill us, aren’t they?” His eyes were closed as he whispered against my lips.
I pressed back against his brow, refusing to let him go just yet. “More than likely, yes.”
Triven’s breathing hitched, but he steadied himself and slowly released me. I slid back down to the floor. Waiting for him to open his eyes. He didn’t. Not until my fingers grazed his jaw line. Then smiling weakly, Triven caught my wrist and placed one last kiss in my palm.
“We should tell the others to light the marks.”
“Okay.” He nodded to himself, trying to muster the courage neither of us felt. “Let’s go.”
I took one last deep breath and letting him keep hold of my hand, we headed toward the stairs beyond our post.
The next hour would have one of two outcomes.
A hope for a future or our deaths.
THE CHOICE OF building had not been a random one. On the contrary I had been narrowing down the best options since Ryker had first proposed the idea of a Tribal gathering. Many choices fell away without a second thought.
Too exposed.
Too secluded.
Too dilapidated.
Too close to a Tribal territory.
In the end, there was only one place that met my stringent requirements. This building was undoubtedly a far cry from what it was in its prime. The exterior had peeled away in large chunks years ago, rusted metal strewn around the structure like a barricade. It could be navigated, but the paths were clearly defined and easy to view from above. Unlike the building’s membrane, the skeleton was rock solid. Even the Adroits would have a hard time leveling the structure. We had inspected every inch of the building finding no signs of tampering. The bags under everyone’s eyes told of our meticulous watch over the past twenty-four hours.
Six floors rose toward the sky with few windows. It was here we had spent last night, keeping watch over the city. It was now where Grenald, Nos, Veyron and Arden perched, respective lookouts for each direction. Any sign of trouble and they would set off a micro burst, signaling everyone to run. A pact had been made. If things went sour, all who could escape would head directly back to The Master’s hideout. There would be no rescue mission. Each member of our team c
arried a small knife, sharp enough to cleanly slit one’s own throat. If tonight’s plans went wrong and we face capture, we would not offer the Tribes any prisoners.
It was vital that at least one of us would survive to carry word back to the waiting Subversive members. The lookouts above had the best view of the anticipated approaching Tribes while the remaining members of our group were scattered randomly on surrounding rooftops. They could do little to help Triven and me, but they had a decent chance of escape. Archer had put up a good fight before stomping off to her post, practically screaming about hating us forever if we got ourselves killed. At least she didn’t throw a punch this time.
While our allies took perch up high, Triven and I burrowed deeper down. The top of the building gave us a near perfect aerie, but it was what lay under the building that had drawn me to it. And it was there that Triven and I now waited for our guests to arrive.
The space was fortified with cinderblock walls and concrete ceilings. Only four oversized openings allowed access to the massive pillar-filled room. One for each Tribe. This was also why micro bombs had been the only choice. We wouldn’t see any signal from here, but a pulse big enough to rattle the building without destroying it, that would get our attention.
In addition, the doors were located higher up than the level ground we waited on, giving us a slight advantage. When the Tribes descended the ramps, we could easily fire off a round before they ever laid eyes on us. Any sign of red and black, and I wouldn’t hesitate to shoot.
That part of the building’s design was ideal. However, once inside, there were also few ways out. What could be a wonderful bunker could also prove to be a death trap. It was why no Tribe had claimed it as a refuge and why I knew it would be perfect. When the Tribes came—if they came—it would level the playing field. They couldn’t kill each other without high risk of getting themselves killed as well. If a fight did break out, we would all die in here together. Of course, I hoped it didn’t come to that, but a vindictive part of me thought it would serve Ryker right if it did. He had asked the impossible of me and deserved my blood on his hands.
New World Inferno: Book Three in a Young Adult Dystopian Series Page 19
