Firebird (The Elemental Wars Book 2)

by K. Gorman

  His jaw tightened as he considered her. His better judgment weighed heavily against whatever this ‘job’ might entail, but he owed her one. She’d cleared his passage to the Underground.

  Her eyes lit up as Ketan put his pack back down on the couch. She skipped forward and took him by the arm as they left.

  “Great! Come on, I’ll show you.”

  *

  Even with the power back on, this part of town was still more dark than light. It’d take more than a half-assed series of LEDs to penetrate that much shadow, and their thin light made Leloni’s bleached dreads and pale skin downright spectral as she tugged him across the street.

  Despite her gaunt eyes, she brimmed with energy. The kind that made her skip down the last few steps and scuff the soles of her shoes over the curb. It was like she’d pounded back an energy drink or some other stimulant—was she using? Her roommates sure had, back in Terremain, but you could never assume with people. Her too-skinny hand shook where it held his arm, fingertips biting through the thin fabric of his jacket and into his skin.

  Ketan didn’t share her excitement. Instead, it made him nervous.

  What was he doing? Even if Carson’s so-called ‘job’ was a legit business venture, he doubted Carson’s motivation for involving him was so pure. Had the man asked him himself, he would have said no.

  But you didn’t say no to Leloni.

  He cast a sidelong look at her. Her dreads bounced with every step. When she pulled him into an alleyway, her grip felt weak and light—as if all her bones were hollow, like a bird’s. Light glittered on the tips of every stud in her jacket before the alley’s shadow swallowed her.

  He followed her into the darkness, and her grip shifted down to his hand as they were forced single-file. The alley smelled like piss and garbage. He could just barely make out her silhouette as she pulled him along.

  Something squished under his foot. He didn’t stop to see what it was. “Where are we going?”

  Leloni only giggled. His longer legs matched her pace easily, but she still tugged his hand, fingers squeezing his.

  When they came to the light at the next corner, she shot him a grin over her shoulder.

  “You’ll see,” she said.

  Her hand slipped from his. She bounced into another alleyway, breaking into a brief run. The only sounds were the slap of her sneakers on the concrete, the faint jingle of her jacket, and the rustle of her jeans.

  Ketan’s anxiety grew. He followed her in.

  They met Carson a few blocks later.

  Leloni bounded up to him like a love-struck puppy, and Ketan’s jaw tightened as she laced her fingers through Carson’s, standing on tiptoe to kiss his lips.

  Carson barely noticed her. His eyes burned as they took in Ketan, looking him up and down. For a second, he thought he saw traces of that enmity he’d seen in them earlier, when he’d woken up to Carson watching him.

  But it was soon masked by something else. Something smooth and genteel that he didn’t trust.

  He turned his smile to Leloni. “You brought him. Good girl. We’ll need him.”

  “Need me for what?”

  He stopped short, eyeing the two. They stood in front of a busted drugstore, its faded signs dusty and out of date. A heavy crack marred the center of the window, snaking up to its top right corner. There was still a mound of dirt behind the security gate, left over from the excavation.

  Carson avoided his question as deftly as Leloni had, leading the way down the block. “You’ll see. You wanted some money, right?”

  Ketan shoved his hands into his pockets and followed them. “Right.”

  Chapter 26

  Mieshka stumbled, crutch slipping on an ice patch, and she bared her teeth as the movement tugged at her wounds. It was slower going than she would have liked, though somewhat less painful than she’d expected—whatever drug cocktail Dr. Deforet had given her, it had killed the ache. Even the sharp tug of the stitches had dulled.

  But that didn’t make her move any faster. The pain might have lessened, but it still hurt. And her muscles felt like lead.

  They’d made it a few blocks. Robin lived on the northern outskirts of Uptown, and the clean streets glistened with cold. Dirty snow piled high on the curbs from where the plow had pushed it. Her foot had already gone through a half-frozen section which had soaked straight through her thin sneakers. The shoe squished when she walked.

  She might be a Fire Elemental, but the sensation was still unpleasant.

  Despite the early hour, the streets weren’t as deserted as she was used to. The parade of military vehicles had not slowed during the night, only spread out in the absence of local traffic. They passed a convoy parked at the side of the road—three vehicles, their mottled white camouflage coated with snow, mud splashed around the wheel wells, engines cut for the night. Soldiers leaned against the sides, sat on the tailgates, huddled under the awnings of businesses.

  Cigarette smoke curled toward her as she passed them, head bowed. Her dark brown hair spilled out from under her hood. She felt the soldiers’ eyes follow them up the street, but none of them made a move to stop her.

  Two blocks later, they turned into the doorway of a business. She pulled out her phone and tapped her speed dial.

  It went straight to voicemail.

  Robin huddled next to her in the shelter of the door. Her breath puffed up in a frozen cloud. “Still nothing?”

  She shook her head.

  Robin jammed her hands deeper into her pockets and squared her shoulders. “Maybe they’re asleep.”

  “My dad never sleeps.” And she doubted that Buck or Jo would sleep through a phone call. They weren’t trained that way.

  She looked out onto the street. Except for the convoy a few blocks down, it was empty. Snow lined the ledges of buildings, piled high on rooftops and awnings. A break in the curbside snow-pile marked a bus stop.

  It was so quiet, she could hear the static hum of the streetlights.

  Beside her, Robin shivered. “Well, what now? Should we go to your place?”

  Mieshka hesitated, pressing her lips together. “No. That’s the first place they’d look. If Dad isn’t answering, they may already have him—” Or maybe he was in the shower. Or had his headphones on. Or had gone... out? Her breathing faltered. All seemed unlikely. “We can’t go there.”

  Robin met her eyes. She seemed to know what Mieshka was thinking. “Then... where?”

  Across the street, behind the bus stop, her eyes caught on a small sign. She pointed. “There’s an underground pedway under there. Let’s take the subway to Mercator. We can get to the Underground from there.”

  “What about the stairs?” Robin asked.

  Mieshka shrugged, then gritted her teeth as a twinge of pain stabbed past her medicine. The elevator she’d taken earlier was out of service in the off hours.

  “I’ll manage,” she said.

  *

  By the time they reached the Underground, it was closing in on five a.m., and she was ready to collapse. Much like aboveground Ryarne, the city below had yet to wake up. Without the usual accompaniment of neon signs and storefront displays, the street in front of her seemed dark and empty.

  She leaned heavily against the doorframe at the bottom of the stairwell, sweat soaking the small of her back. The subway had only taken half an hour to ride, but it had taken them nearly an hour to get down the stairs. Twenty-seven flights was a lot of stairs for anyone, let alone a greatly injured Fire Elemental. Her thighs burned. Her shoulders itched. There wasn’t a part of her that didn’t hurt, and her thoughts were returning to the small container of pills Dr. Deforet had loaded her up with.

  Since when had she become such a druggie?

  Robin reappeared at her side. She looked cool and calm, if a bit flushed from the descent. The snow had melted from her jacket in the subway, but she hadn’t stopped shivering until halfway down the stairs.

  “Any luck?”

  Mieshka shook her head
. “Still no answer.”

  They’d hoped that, once her phone had connected to the UnderNet, Aiden or Jo or someone would get back to her. The silence was unnerving. What if something had happened to them? They were all fugitives—Robin’s brother had said as much, back at the apartment. If they’d put out a bulletin for her capture, then, had they visited her apartment first? Had they captured her dad? And what about the rest? Had the government sent retrieval teams after them? Had they escaped? Been captured? Buck and Jo were good, but what chance did they stand against an armed team?

  And Aiden had been taken by soldiers before…

  She shook her head. Panicking wouldn’t help. Right now, she had more pressing needs, such as finding a place to sit down.

  She glanced up. The Underground might have been asleep right now, but it generally woke up earlier than the rest of the city—courtesy of the twenty-seven-flight commute to the top. Five o’clock might have been too early to see commuters out in the streets, but some of the cafés might open their doors soon to serve the morning rush.

  Mieshka adjusted her crutch arm, trying to find a place with the least amount of bruising. But, before she could push off the wall and strike out into the streets, Robin stopped her.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Her friend’s eyes raked over her body with obvious concern. “You look a little…”

  “Hobbled?” Mieshka supplied. She grimaced as another twinge of pain caught her shoulder. There was a crick in her back now, too, due to the awkward, hunchbacked shamble she’d done down the stairs.

  “Yeah…” Robin’s voice trailed off.

  “I’m fine,” she said firmly. But at the look on Robin’s face, her tone softened. “Really. Once we find a place to sit, I can get a glass of water to take some more pills with. Oxycodone, remember?” She waggled her eyebrows.

  Robin didn’t look convinced, but Mieshka didn’t give her time to answer. Instead, she pushed off the wall and struck out across the street. Her crutch made a steady pock sound against the concrete.

  Fifteen minutes later, they found a café at the edge of the Core.

  It was a small place—the seating area was barely larger than her bedroom—with worn off-white floor tiles, black grout, and a faded forest-green wallpaper that had cracked and peeled in places. Six tables crowded the floorspace in front of a large display counter. In the kitchen, she caught a glimpse of two refrigerators and the same kind of stove that her dad had. The smell of baking pastry filled the air.

  A tiny bell rang above the door when they walked in, and a voice called out from the kitchen.

  “Be out in a minute.”

  Robin and Mieshka took the table next to the door. A long, taped-up crack broke the front window into two pieces. She leaned her crutch against the table and eased herself into the chair.

  Damn, it felt good to sit. She leaned back, angled herself to the side, and stretched her injured legs into the open space of the aisle. The chair’s metal backing pressed into her spine.

  A timer went off in the kitchen. Through the display case, she watched a woman open the oven door, pull a tray out, and bang it down on the top. At the edge of her mind, in the place where her Element lived, she registered the oven’s heat as a steady ocher color.

  The woman shoved another tray in, shut the door, and straightened. A second later, she popped her head over the display.

  “I’m Deann. What can I get you?”

  “Coffee,” Robin said immediately.

  “Yes,” Mieshka agreed. “Lots of coffee.”

  “Sure thing.”

  The head disappeared again, and she saw the warped view of Deann walk away, back into the kitchen.

  They sat in silence, and she studied her friend. Robin worried the edge of the table with the pad of her thumb, working her way slowly to the corner. They hadn’t talked much on the way down from the street. Mieshka had been too focused on walking to notice a whole lot else—but even the train ride had been quiet.

  She curled her lip. She was a shit friend. First, she’d been a nutcase with the panic attack episodes, and then, she’d largely ignored Robin through winter break. Technically, Robin had been grounded and incommunicable through the entire break, so that wasn’t exactly Mieshka’s fault—but still. She hadn’t exactly sought her out… she’d been too busy.

  And now, Robin had pulled a gun on her brother to save her from arrest.

  How fucked up was that?

  “I’m sorry,” she said.

  “Hmm?” Robin glanced up. Her eyes weren’t just lined with red now—parts of the white had turned completely bloodshot.

  “About your brother. I’m sorry about that.”

  “He had it coming.” Robin frowned as she looked out the window. The crack in the glass fragmented her reflection.

  “But—”

  “Never did like him much.” Her eyes narrowed. “Hey, you see those guys across the street?”

  Mieshka followed her gaze. Outside, a couple more of the storefronts showed signs of life—a bakery on the corner had its inside lights on, and down the street, another café had propped open its door while its owner unloaded crates from the bed of a bike trailer.

  But the street itself remained dark and dingy. The closest streetlight flickered halfway up the block, and its dimness coated the street like oil. It was so dark outside that it made the window look more like a mirror.

  She squinted. “What, that guy over there?”

  “No. In the alley.”

  She adjusted her gaze. She hadn’t noticed the alley when they’d walked past—probably because she’d been more focused on the pain in her legs than what, precisely, was going on in her environment. It was a small one, barely a crack between the two brick-and-mortar storefronts, and it stood on an angle to their café. She had to crane her neck to see it.

  Mieshka squinted. “I don’t see anything. There are people in it?”

  “Yeah. I noticed them on our way in. I think I recognize them.”

  “What, from aboveground? School?” She tried to remember the faces of her classmates, but her mind wasn’t cooperating.

  “No, from here.”

  She raised an eyebrow. Robin had been down here what, two, maybe three times? And she was already making friends?

  That was impressive.

  “Cool.” She opened her mouth to say something more, but Deann interrupted them.

  Two mugs of coffee clunked down in front of them. A moment later, a bowl of sugar and a creamer followed.

  “Now, I haven’t quite got the menu up yet, but I’ll have croissants and cinnamon buns ready in about five minutes.” She put her hands on her hips. Mieshka noticed a dusting of flour on her wrist. “You interested?”

  She hesitated. “How much?”

  “Two bucks each.” She winked. “I don’t have to pay taxes down here.”

  Across the table, Robin grinned. “A cinnamon bun for me.” She met Mieshka’s eyes over the table. “My treat. What do you want?”

  “What? No, Robin, you just—”

  Robin turned to Deann “Make that two cinnamon buns. She’s not thinking clearly, so she needs the sugar.”

  She slapped a ten-dollar bill on the table.

  As Deann walked away, Mieshka glowered. “You shouldn’t have done that. I can pay.”

  Robin dismissed her. “You keep frowning, and your face will stay that way.”

  Mieshka shot her a look, but her reply was interrupted by a chirp from her phone. She scrambled to unlock the screen.

  It was Jo.

  “Where r u? U ok?”

  It always amazed her that, in this day of autocorrect, Jo still piled her messages full of chatspeak. She tapped a message back, feeling her phone vibrate with each letter and word.

  “Underground café on Bernard. I’m fine.”

  According to the message icon at the corner of the screen, Jo was online. Not long after she’d sent her response, Jo started typing.

  “Stay put. B there in
45.”

  Jo’s icon went offline.

  Mieshka sat back and met Robin’s expectant eyes across the table.

  “Well?” her friend asked. “What’s the word?”

  “No word. Jo’s on her way.”

  Robin’s face fell.

  “No updates? Shouldn’t there be like—” she dropped her voice low as the shopkeeper wandered closer, dishes clanking as she laid out clean mugs and saucers on the tables. “—you know, raids and gunfights and car chases? You’re fugitives. Wanted by the government.”

  Robin’s enthusiasm was catching. Mieshka cupped her hands around her mug, feeling the heat sink in. To a normal person, it might have burned. But to her, the heat felt like solidified sunlight. It soaked through the bandage on her hand and warmed the wound underneath.

  “I think you might have that backwards. The government’s supposed to be the good guys. It’s probably just a miscommunication that made me a fugitive.” She tilted her head, musing. “I mean, they did know about me before. Aiden even registered me. If they’d really wanted me, they could have nabbed me yesterday…”

  Unless that was when they’d put the bulletin out. Robin’s brother had said it had gone out yesterday evening.

  She shook her head. Whatever. It wouldn’t do any good to run over it now. Better leave the thinking for when Jo got there. She had the inside scoop on the military. For now…

  She pulled Dr. Deforet’s prescription bottle from her jacket pocket, shook a couple of pills onto her palm, and chased them with a swig of coffee. The hot liquid burned on the way down, but she ignored it. Heat didn’t hurt her anymore.

  Across the table, Robin narrowed her eyes and blew on the top of her mug. “Cheater.”

  Mieshka smiled and caught her eye. Then, she picked the mug up, tipped it to her lips, and chugged the rest of it. When she was done, she blew the steam out of her mouth like smoke pouring from a dragon’s mouth.

  Robin made a face.

  Deann came back with the cinnamon buns and a refill for Mieshka. The plates made a clinking sound when they hit the table.

  Steam rose from the buns. The sugar looked fresh, sitting on top of a melted glaze and a generous browning of cinnamon all over the top of the roll. Her mouth watered.