by Silver, Anna
Chapter 25
* * *
Reunited
SHE DIDN’T KNOW whether to run or throw her arms around him, so Si’dah simply stood there. She considered sitting back down in her chair, steadying her shaky limbs, but something coursed through her veins like lightning, both elation and fear, and she could not bring herself to relax her position. She stood frozen before him, muscles coiled and ready to spring into action, the craving in her heart growing with the nearness of him.
“What? How?” she began, realizing slowly that she was only able to get a word out at a time, as all the questions wrestled in her throat.
Roanyk took a step toward her and she instinctively took a step back. He sighed and looked down, toying with the hem of his cloak. “I deserve that.”
Si’dah fisted her hands and then forced herself to slowly uncurl them again. “You tried to kill me,” she said quietly.
His face shot up and his eyes pierced into hers like icicles. “No,” he breathed with such sincerity she nearly staggered beneath the weight of it. “Never. Only to—to scare you. I needed to frighten you…as a warning.”
“Well, you succeeded,” Si’dah said, an ounce of venom in her voice. “I was terrified.”
Roanyk hung his head again. “I know. I am sorry.”
Si’dah swallowed and tried to still her frazzled nerves. She crossed her arms and turned to the side, thinking. “A warning about what?”
“About us,” he answered quickly. “About her. You needed to know that you were being followed, watched. That she was gleaning information from you in the Astral, picking it from your heads like ripe berries, and using it to find you in the Others’ world.”
“So you tried to kill me? You couldn’t have just told me?” Her eyes were wide with her puzzlement.
Roanyk let go a long and weary sigh. “No. I couldn’t have. I am watched all the time. I need them to think I am helping them, that I’m on their side. It’s my survival. And it’s the only way I could try to save you. You needed to know how much danger you were in, here as well as there. It was all I could do to warn you and still maintain my position among them.”
Si’dah started at this. He was trying to save her, when all along, it was she who should have been saving him. How quick she had been to doubt him. Her heart lurched and she choked on her own remorse.
“I am failing you,” he said when she didn’t speak. “I’m sorry.”
Si’dah shook her head, her ebony waves falling over her shoulders. “No. It is I who have failed you. The night we—we lost you, I tried to throw myself from the truck. I wanted to go back for you right away, but we had no means, no resources, nothing that could possibly help free you. These long months apart have been agony for me. For so long, I didn’t even know if you were still alive.”
Roanyk took another step towards her and this time she didn’t back away. Beneath the cloak, his shoulders slumped a little, and as he neared her, a bit more of Rye seemed to seep through. His face melting into fox like angles, and his own hair becoming the dark auburn fall of Rye’s, but his eyes were still the same color as a winter sky. “Please, you have to know. I never blamed you. What could you have done, any of you? I wouldn’t wish this on another, least of all you. At least…at least I can try to be of some help to you where I am. Try to divert them. But, she is so smart, so suspicious. How did we not see it in her before?”
Si’dah felt her appearance ripple and ebb until it was London’s pale, full-lipped face staring back at him with her own obsidian eyes. She thought of her mentor’s words about the Circle only moments before. “We were fools,” she answered with a humorless laugh. “The lot of us.”
He drew close to her, close enough to touch, and the tension prickled between them, magnetic. “Alyna brought me here, arranged all of this, so we could meet. So I could help you any way I can, but I can’t stay long.” His tone was grave and his voice thick with gravel.
“She doesn’t know you’re here then?” she asked, staring up into his radiant face.
He reached out and gently brushed her hair over one shoulder. A tender smile played at his lips. “I like it,” he whispered and she blushed. So many changes had befallen both of them since they’d last truly been together. “No, she cannot come here. This plane, at least, is closed to her. To know the peace of the Highplane, you must have peace within. And peace is something Avery will never have. We are protected behind the mists…for now.”
“She won’t know?” Si’dah hardly believed it could be true.
“Not if I’m brief. She’s asleep now. Even she can’t escape the need for genuine rest, though she’d like to. But she never lets herself truly sleep for long. She’ll wander the planes soon, checking. She’ll know if I don’t join her.”
He ran a finger along her jaw and Si’dah trembled.
“That’s how you came to me. Before.”
“Yes,” he answered. “I get minutes to myself, that’s all. And I haven’t fully mastered projection yet. She doesn’t know I can do it at all.”
There were so many things she wanted to ask. What was projection? How was Avery using the other planes to spy on them exactly? What else was she making him do besides spy on them and depriving him of sleep? But she had to focus. If their time was short, she needed to find out what she could about their friends and the Tycoons’ plans. “Do you know what happened to Elias? The man that was helping us. Do they have him?”
Roanyk sighed and dropped his hand. “Yes.”
“He’s alive then? He’s okay?” Si’dah was desperate for hope. Elias didn’t deserve to be tangled up in their mess.
Roanyk shook his head. “He’s alive but…”
She put a hand to her mouth and held her breath. “But what? He’s not okay?”
“No. He’s unconscious. We don’t know what happened. They smoked them to calm the swarm, until they all began to drop and crawl back toward the hive. When he fell, he returned to his own form, but he was already out. No one’s been able to revive him.”
Si’dah covered her face in her hands. How could this even be possible? “He slipped,” she said quietly, lowering her hands. “He was forced to hold the shift too long. But how would they even know about Elias?”
Something wasn’t adding up. Elias was Otherborn, but he was rogue. The Tycoons, even Avery, should have never known about him. They should have fled his home the second she, Kim, and Tora made their escape in pursuit of them, thinking they were only leaving behind a hive of bees. How did they know to look for him at all?
Roanyk shook his head again. “Avery knew. I don’t know how. There’s very little I can keep from her, but she manages to keep quite a few secrets from me. She knew before the raid. They were ready to take him in when they arrived. But no one expected him to be unconscious.”
So, Avery didn’t know about slipping? Well, that’s one thing in their favor at least. “He’s in a coma,” she told him. “It’s not likely he’ll come out of it, but they don’t have to know that. Just do your best to keep him alive for me, please. I’ll figure something out.”
He nodded. “I’ll try.”
Now for the hard part. Si’dah swallowed and leaned back to have a clear view of his face. “And Zen? What’s happened to him?”
Something dark passed over his face, but Roanyk quickly pushed it away. “He’s captive. She doesn’t want him dead. She’s been interrogating him since he came in. She’s going to try to turn him, like she thinks she did me. Use him. She’s planning something big. Something I don’t even know the scope of. There’s all this construction happening right outside of New Eden, something massive. Near an old building they’ve been using behind the scenes for years. It’s a building like a plant, or…or a prison. I don’t know. That’s where they’re taking everybody. That’s why they’ve stopped trying to kill you and the other dreamers. I guess you’re more use to them alive now than dead.”
Si’dah took a deep breath and felt Roanyk’s fingers entwine with h
er own. “He hates her,” she said at last. “He’ll never let her break him.”
But Roanyk didn’t look so sure. “I don’t know. He loved her once. And she’s pretty convincing when she wants to be. She’ll appeal to that again, his love for her, his desire to protect her. If that doesn’t work, she’ll simply threaten him until he caves.“God, I’ve missed you,” he said suddenly, pressing his face close to hers so that she couldn’t think straight for the nearness of him. He moved back a little and traced his fingertips gently along the new lines of her face, London’s face. “You’re so beautiful.”
“Even now?” she asked. “A lot has changed. I don’t really know myself anymore, and yet I seem to know myself better than before. Does that make sense?”
“Perfect sense,” he smiled. “But it doesn’t matter, because I’ll always know you...in my heart.”
He set his lips to hers, gently at first, the pressure building slowly as they began to explore one another again. When he finally pulled back, he left her shuddering for breath. “It’s okay, you know, if you don’t feel the same way anymore. I know about…him,” he whispered to her.
She blushed and tried to look away, but he wouldn’t let her.
“I won’t pretend my feelings for him aren’t different,” she said, knowing he was referring to Zen. “But I also won’t pretend my feelings for you aren’t the same.”
He smiled and kissed her once more, a soft caress of his mouth. “I have to go now,” he said, a grim sadness filling his expression, and he turned to walk away.
“Rye!’ she called, snatching at him before he could reach the door and he turned back, the freeze of his icy eyes now warm and russet brown like autumn leaves. “I love you. I’m coming for you, do you understand? I won’t leave you with her. I’ll find a way.”
He reached up to hold her chin, stroking her pouty bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ve never doubted it, London,” he said. Then he replaced his hood, hiding his face from her, and dropped his arms. Turning away, he passed through the door and back into Avery’s possession.
* * *
THE HOUSELANDS AROUND Mesa City were little more than crumbling remains of a forgotten age. With little vegetation to shelter them, the sun had done its deteriorating work with no impediment, leaving a haunted dustbowl in its wake. But even the bones of this pre-Crisis past provided more refuge for London, Kim, and Tora than the gaping stretches of dirt, cactus, gravel, and grass that had been their only protection outside the camp. A wide, worn down road cut like a blade through the Houselands, shooting straight into the heart of the city, stymied behind the familiar high, concrete walls.
London glared at the walls and felt nothing. No fear. No dread. And very little relief. Her promise to Rye still beat in her heart like lifeblood, I’m coming for you…I’ll find a way. And yet here she was, moving farther from Rye and closer to the Tycoons at the same time.
It’s only for a little while, she told herself as the dusty gray city loomed before them. Just until I can think of something. Just so we can get ourselves together enough to fight. All words she’d told herself before, more than seven months ago, in the back of a truck outside of New Eden. This time, she swore that she meant them.
They ducked into a dilapidated housing structure, a complex of apartments that once was home to hundreds of pre-Crisis families. Some of the roof had blown off in a twister and many of the doors were blown open or gone. Animals had made themselves at home in nearly every corner of the place. Rat droppings littered the faded old carpets, dried practically into dust beneath their feet. Scrappers had already picked the place clean of nearly anything of value that they could carry. But they found what they were looking for. A solitary sink, chipped ivory porcelain, rested in the broken blue tiles of a bathroom counter. Its little drain was plugged by a metal plunger, rusted into place. The water here had been cut off long ago, but that didn’t matter. London wasn’t sure she would ever need to access Tycoon water again. She simply called it out of herself and the sink was full and clear. They tore Tora’s reprocessed jacket into three pieces, wetting it to sponge the hard baked clay off their skin. If they were going to venture back behind the walls, they needed to be as inconspicuous as possible.
“There are no tunnels here,” London said as she scrubbed at her hands, letting patches of white flesh shine through. Her swelling was practically gone now and the itching had ebbed considerably. There was little that remained of the stings, except a few patches of pink. “So we’ll have to find the Scrappers elsewhere. They’re not going to be out in trucks like the Tigerians. They’ll be laying low, an underground network of traders that the people of Mesa City know about and protect. The best place to look will be somewhere low key, like a bar.”
Tora nodded and Kim looked up at her but didn’t speak. They both knew what was flooding their minds at her final word, images of Pauly and Dogma, of days when learning to string a guitar and copycat a few chords was the most challenging thing in their lives.
London looked away. “We can’t seem too anxious, if we ask around. Pauly used to get suspicious easily. Barmen are notoriously wary,” she cautioned. “Just play it cool and stick together. We’re drop-outs from Pillar City looking to make it big as Scrappers. We headed west in order to avoid penalty for skipping out on our assignments. Got it?”
“Got it,” Kim said as he raked his finger through his wet hair to untangle it.
London eyeballed Tora as she rinsed the last of the mud from her angled blond bob. “Tora?”
The Seer looked up at her casually.
“Try not to look so different,” she suggested.
Kim sniggered and Tora frowned. “What do you mean? I’m not different,” she whined.
London stepped forward and tucked Tora’s hair behind her ears until the unusual cut wasn’t so noticeable. Then, looking her over, she plucked a mismatched button off one sleeve and rolled them both up. The Seer glared at her, both eyes burning like twin flames. “That is exactly what I’m talking about,” London exclaimed. “Can you turn those eyes down a notch?”
Tora huffed.
“Just try not to read anybody’s mind, okay? And slouch a little, for crying out loud. We’re Wallers now. Wallers lead bland, monotonous lives. All nice and neatly arranged for them by the Tycoons. We don’t need you looking like you grew up swinging from trees and getting lots of fresh air.”
Tora scowled at them both, because by now, Kim was doubled over in hysterics. “I thought we were Scrappers,” she snapped.
“Same difference,” London said. “More or less. We still can’t afford for you to show so much…vitality.”
“Fine.” Tora threw down the piece of jacket she’d been using to clean off and dropped one shoulder low, affecting a limp as she stalked away. “This better?” she called over her shoulder.
“Maybe not so pathetic. Think, crippled inside, not outside,” London threw back, taking Kim’s arm as they headed toward the flimsy gates of Mesa City.
Chapter 26
* * *
Tavern
THE TAVERN WAS seedy enough to be a Scrapper haunt, with its single, heavy metal door in dark, scratched paint, and its broken lantern. A painted sign in faded lettering read, The Front Porch Tavern, just over the door, though there wasn’t a porch of any kind in sight. But what really gave it away was the ironwork awning, the black curls and scrolls were obviously scrapped from something else, an old balcony railing perhaps? Just the sort of place people who like to do business under the table would hang out. Not exactly where they might expect three kids to stroll in off the street for a drink, but London didn’t care. They were all hungry, tired, and pretty desperate. Hopefully that, and something in her bag, would be enough to convince the barman to give them a hot plate, a cold drink, and an empty chair.
Sneaking into the city had been a walk in the park. They waited until dusk and simply walked up and ducked between the bars of the aluminum gate, the same kind Capital City employed. The streets were emp
ty, which struck London as odd, and by the time night had fallen, Mesa City felt more like a ghost town. No one was out after dark. Except them. She wasn’t sure yet if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. Either way, this would be the real test. They needed a place to stay while they were here, and she was hoping they could find someone in this bar who could help them out. Scrappers always knew where the city’s hot and cold spots were. They knew where to hide their stash, where to sneak in and out of the walls, and where to find good trade.
London took a deep breath and gripped the handle, pulling back on the heavy door. A rush of stale smoke and spilt beer wafted out at them, making her smile, the tension easing out of her every pore. Oh yeah, she thought, grinning. I’m home.
There were round polished tables inside, their thick coat of varnish dulling like wax from years of wiping. Mismatched chairs circled each one, some with three, some with four. London made her way to the back of the room, moving slowly between the tables, careful to look each customer she passed in the eye. You couldn’t show fear with these types, you had to be confident to be accepted. She’d been practically raised behind the bar, she knew just what she was doing.
They took their seats at an open table far enough back to look like they weren’t afraid to enter, but not too close to the corner. They didn’t want to look like they had anything to hide. London slung her pack, which was at least free of the thick cake of dirt but now permanently stained a mottled brown, over the back of her wooden chair. The cracked black vinyl seat whooshed when she sat down. A red plastic ashtray stared at her from the center of the table, giving her an idea.
Casually, she leaned over to the heavyset man at the table next to them, his scratchy red beard practically swallowing the cigarette in his mouth, and gave him a nudge. He turned, a little surprised, but didn’t need long to take in her pouty lips and dark, wavy hair. “Bum some smokes?” she asked.
