Skyhunter

by Marie Lu

  A surge of fury from Red sears through me, threatening to push him over the edge. I glance sharply at him. No, I think, sending the word as strongly through our link as I can. If Red reacts to my pain, it will be the proof that the Premier wants to see.

  One of the soldiers holding me down doesn’t wait. He grips my right arm tightly and positions his dagger.

  Then he digs the blade in against my skin and cuts one long, jagged line.

  Pain blooms in my mind. I suck my breath in sharply as blood trickles hot down my arm.

  Behind the glass, Red’s eyes flare, glowing silver white. Through our link, I see a flash of his memories. Suddenly, I’m staring into the eyes of his sister and father as if I were he, looking over my shoulder at their wide-eyed stares as the Chief Architect leads him away from his home.

  The Premier nods in grim satisfaction. “So silent, this one,” he murmurs to himself.

  I keep my head bowed, my body trembling, my mind filled with Red’s seething thoughts. The Chief Architect says something to the Premier, and he looks at me curiously.

  “My Architect tells me this bond you have with my Skyhunter shouldn’t be possible,” he says. “She tells me that severing the bond by force may damage my Skyhunter’s mind. It may make him impossible to bond again.” He frowns. “That would be a waste.”

  He bends down to my eye level. I want to cut through his body with my blades. But all I can be is helpless as I watch his lips thin into a line.

  “You don’t speak, do you?”

  I don’t know how he makes this assumption about me, but I only scowl back at him. It makes his lips tighten in satisfaction.

  “A gifted killer,” he says, rising back to his feet. “I was wondering when you and your companions would actually show up here at the complex.”

  His words take a second to sink in. I look up at him, startled, trying to understand. Had he been expecting us?

  As I puzzle over this, one of the soldiers asks him a question. He shrugs, shaking his head, but his eyes never leave mine. “No,” he says, “I’d like to keep her.” He tilts his head toward Adena, who is slowly stirring back to life. “And that one seems gifted enough to apprentice to our Architect here. She’ll learn quickly.”

  Then several things happen at once.

  A boom sounds from the front of the lab complex, accompanied by shaking earth. The lights flicker violently, setting off every single Ghost in the room. In an instant, soldiers form a protective barrier in front of their Premier.

  Adena twists free from her guard’s grasp, one of her knives held at the soldier’s throat and another pointed at Constantine. She gives him a smile.

  And in that glorious instant, I know she has succeeded in her mission.

  28

  Everything seems to happen in a blur—the Ghosts stirring to life all around us, their snarls triggering one after the other, the soldiers drawing their guns in unison.

  Adena’s daggers flash in her hands. Before anyone can react to her, she whirls and slashes one of her guards hard across his chest. She looks so alive in this moment that I wish I could shout. Adena, our savior.

  From the corner of my eye, I see a shadow dart through the corridor.

  Then I’m moving before I can even register the thought. I spring up from my crouch on the floor. My guards, taken aback for an instant by everything around them, aren’t ready for my lunge. One of my arms comes free from their grip—I seize a dagger from my belt and stab it straight into one guard. I yank my other arm free and jam a dagger hard into the second guard’s chest, then dart toward the Chief Architect, who’s standing the closest to me. Before any of the other soldiers can stop me, I throw an arm around her neck, pressing a blade against her throat hard enough to draw blood.

  Before me, the Premier stands stiffly and watches me. When he holds up a hand, the guards advancing on me freeze.

  “You think you can threaten my Architect,” he says to me.

  I tighten my grip and press the dagger harder. In my grasp, the Architect trembles, then shuts her eyes and mutters what might be a prayer. Is it my imagination, or is there a subtle smile on her face? As if she were almost relieved for death.

  “Go ahead, then,” the Premier continues. His eyes glitter like a pair of gemstones, hard and refined. “You think the Federation cannot continue without her? Take her. I will not be held hostage by a filthy Maran scout.”

  The Chief Architect is the creator of everything that has made the Federation the sprawling dynasty that it is. She is the inventor of its war machines. If I were smart, I’d kill her right here without hesitation. A life, for countless lives.

  And yet, I feel her trembling in my grasp and remember the things she’d said to Red in his nightmares, that she too fears for her young son and husband, that she does terrible things in order to protect them. I wonder if my own mother would work for the Premier if she knew he held my life in his hands. It’s this image—my mother standing in the Chief Architect’s place, quivering in my grip and pleading for her family—that makes me stall.

  I know the Premier is bluffing, daring me to do this thing that I know he can’t afford. But I stare back at him, search his gaze, and see no hint of uncertainty at all. His expression is unforgiving, his back straight and chin high. Even if he was dressed in rags instead of his lavish coat, I wouldn’t doubt his confidence. He has played this risky game before, and he has always won it.

  He smiles grimly at the look on my face. “There’s fear in you. It drives everything you do. I saw it in you when you first crossed my path at the bathhouse. But fear is a good thing. It breeds insecurities, which then breed ambition. And I always admire ambition.” He folds his arms. “You are too good to fight for Mara. Do you know why?”

  Within his words is a deep arrogance that digs at me. I can hear in it everything that the Federation stands for—the belief that they deserve to tell us how to live our lives and what we should be sacrificing to them.

  When I continue glaring at him, he gives me a thin smile. “Do you wonder how I knew you would come here, and that you can’t speak? It’s because your Speaker—yes, the leader of the nation you defend—sent me a letter warning of your approach.”

  His words fall off me at first, then hit me again. He must be lying. They make no sense.

  He lifts an eyebrow at me. “You think your Speaker has not thought about the coming collapse of Mara, and his inevitable execution once the Federation conquers his country? That he’s too noble to cut a deal with me, telling me about your mission to destroy my Ghosts in exchange for his life? You think I wouldn’t presume this about your leader and take advantage of it?”

  Nearby, Adena hears his words and stumbles in her fight. A guard almost cuts her with his blade, yet she manages to dart away, but not before I hear a broken cry of disbelief come from her. I struggle to keep steady as the room seems to spin. The Speaker has always struck me as a coward, a weak man—but even I’d thought he would stand by Mara until the end.

  “What do you think our cease-fire negotiations have really been about?” the Premier says archly to me.

  The cease-fires at the warfront, the negotiations. All the Strikers who had given their lives for Mara. All the people, Inner and Outer City alike, who struggle in the throes of our losing war. We have been preparing to make a final stand, while our Speaker has been making plans to save himself all along.

  In grief and fury, my knife digs deeper into the Chief Architect’s skin.

  Then, all of a sudden, I see the first Ghost shudder.

  It’s the one closest to us, so tall that its head nearly comes up to the ceiling of its glass chamber. Barely a moment ago, its bloody teeth had been bared in my direction, and its milky eyes were full of the rage and pain that I’m so used to seeing on a Ghost’s face.

  But now it looks away, seemingly confused. Its eyes wander in a restless attempt to settle—and then it shakes its head violently, as if trying to rid itself of something toxic, and lets out a pi
ercing shriek of agitation.

  Adena grins. For the first time, the Premier’s confident expression wavers.

  Another Ghost follows suit—then another. It ripples through them in rapid succession, the confusion and the rolling eyes, until each one is writhing in agony. I narrow my eyes in satisfaction. Perhaps the Speaker’s betrayal hasn’t stopped us, after all.

  Adena’s serum. Her infiltration of the lab’s control room. All of her theories and experiments. It worked—the Federation’s grip on its Ghosts seems to be breaking down.

  The soldiers beside the nearest Ghost turn toward it. One of them makes the mistake of rapping his gun against the glass, yelling at the Ghost to calm down. But the noise just startles the creature—it throws itself at the glass with such force that it leaves a trickle of blood on the surface. The glass shudders.

  These Ghosts’ fixation on us may be broken, but they are still creatures motivated by some sense of survival. If they break out of their prisons, they may go on a blind rampage in self-defense.

  “We have to go,” Adena hisses at me.

  Red shudders in his chamber. His lips curl into a snarl as the soldiers turn their attention on him.

  The Chief Architect struggles in my grasp. I don’t have time to wrestle with her—I release her instead and lunge toward Red’s cage. A sword and gun are in my hands now. One, two shots—I hit a couple of the soldiers hard and they crumple.

  It’s too late to take a shot at the Premier now; he’s retreated behind a phalanx of soldiers. Everywhere in the lab, chaos reigns—the Ghosts are shrieking now, each of them ramming into the glass walls as hard as they can, so hard that some of them crack their heads from the force.

  I’m about to dash into the fray of soldiers by Red’s chamber when a slender young figure lands right in front of us in a perfect crouch, his face half covered by his mask. It’s Jeran. He barrels into the soldiers like a possessed madman. All I see is the flash of silver blades and blood.

  I dart through the crowd like water. Inside Red’s chamber, he’s already in position near the entrance and bracing himself against the glass. His eyes lock on mine.

  I reach the door and break it open for him. Instantly, he bursts out through the entrance, his wings extended and eyes glowing.

  All around us, glass shatters. Ghosts break free.

  More soldiers are pouring into the space, their attention turned on the Ghosts—but for the first time, I see the Ghosts, blind in their fury, turning indiscriminately on whoever is blocking their path. I rush to help Adena, who’s fighting off a dozen guards in one corner. Daggers appear in my hands. I throw them and they hit true. Two of the soldiers collapse.

  But there are so many of them. Overhead, Red cuts a line through some of the soldiers as we make a dash for the exit corridor we’d used to enter earlier. All around me, Ghosts are shattering their glass walls, some of them injuring themselves so badly in the process that they crawl, shrieking, on the ground.

  It is a scene of madness.

  Had we truly succeeded? It seems wildly impossible that this mission may actually end with us crippling the Federation—that, despite everything the Speaker did, we may have destroyed their hold on their war beasts.

  The corridor comes into view. At the end of it, though, is a line of soldiers, all with guns drawn and waiting for us.

  Beside me, Adena yanks out one of her daggers and flings it at the soldiers. She catches one—but there are still too many of them. As they head toward us, I draw the blades I’d taken from the soldiers and give Adena a nod. Somewhere behind us, Red is fighting in his weakened state through the throngs. The Ghosts are all loose now, their bloodcurdling screams filling the air. I face our enemies and brace myself.

  Jeran glances back once at Adena, then darts ahead at the soldiers. Watching him attack is like watching a perfect storm in action—everywhere at once, cutting down all in his path. He arcs and bends, his blades deadly in their efficiency. Adena wastes no time. She falls right into place beside her Shield, moving in sync with his every attack, weaving around him whenever he ducks to slice through soldiers’ calves, stepping forward whenever he shifts back. Even without our full arsenal of weapons, they are a sight to behold.

  I cut forward as we force ourselves through the corridor. I hear Jeran suck in his breath in pain—an arrow has pierced straight through his side. Adena immediately pushes him behind her as two soldiers lunge at them. Her swords whirl.

  I don’t feel the slashes through my sleeves and vest. I don’t feel the pain from the bloody wounds I’m accumulating. If we are going to have any chance of getting out of this place alive, we can’t afford to stop and think.

  I feel like I’m back in the dark field my mother and I once ran through, only now I’m running the other way, into the throngs of the Federation’s killers, cutting through their ranks just like they had once cut through ours. Don’t look back, Talin.

  And then, suddenly, I feel the shock of cold air against my cheeks. We’ve made our way through to the outside of the lab complex.

  It looks nothing like how it’d been when we’d broken in. Now the courtyard is full of soldiers trying to keep the Ghosts from escaping. One glance across the space tells me that we may not make it out of here alive. There are too many soldiers for us. We number four. There are dozens of them.

  Still, I move forward. Somewhere behind me, back in the complex, Red is wreaking havoc. Even with his strength contained here, he is a fearsome sight, his teeth bared and flashing. I cannot turn around to get him. All I can do is sense the bond between us as I continue to fight, to push forward.

  I’m here, I tell him. I’m here.

  He answers back with a fierce tug.

  A blade catches me on my leg and slices deep through my thigh. I gasp in pain—through the link, Red senses my wound in alarm. I stumble, but slash out even as I fall to one knee. My sword catches the soldier who had tried to cut me down. My blade stabs hard into his stomach. He grunts in shock. I twist my blade, then stab him again. He collapses.

  Suddenly, a giant fist closes around my neck.

  My eyes pop open. The fist belongs to a Ghost—the monster narrows its milky eyes at me as it lifts me off my feet. Its cold, cracked fingers tighten around my throat.

  For an instant, I’m a child again, being dragged by rough hands out of my home. For a moment, I forget who I am and how to fight back. I claw helplessly at the Ghost gripping my neck.

  Through my panic, I hear the rasping voice of the Premier echoing in my memory.

  You are too good to fight for Mara.

  Then he is here, standing near me as the Ghost holds me still. The tips of my boots barely touching the ground, forcing me to stare at him. He’s on the back of his horse now, surrounded by a patrol of soldiers as he surveys the damage around us. The cheekbones of his thin face jut sharply in the light, and his eyes glint like a predator’s.

  “Your reflexes are remarkable,” he says, tilting his head at me.

  I clench my teeth. You’ve lost your war beasts, I want to say. And yet, here is a Ghost beside him, doing as he bids.

  He only gives me a grim smile in return. “I didn’t think anyone could engineer something to disrupt the links formed between our Ghosts and Skyhunters, and our Federation. Yet here you are, with your team of allies.” He narrows his eyes. “You don’t think my Architect didn’t make plans to fix our Ghosts after the Speaker told us about your mission?”

  His words blur through me as I continue to struggle against the Ghost’s grip on my throat. It continues to obey him, despite the serum Adena had created.

  To save his own life, the Speaker of Mara had destroyed our only chance to take down the Federation.

  “No one can sever the bond completely between two linked souls,” he says. “It’s the same trouble we ran into with you and my Skyhunter.”

  And that is when I finally realize that we’ve failed.

  There in the courtyard, I can see glimpses of a changing scene. Th
e Ghosts that had seemingly been released from their links with the Federation … already, some of them have started to back away from the soldiers they’re supposed to obey. Their erratic, blind attacks have ceased. The Ghosts aren’t tearing free of their bonds with the Federation. They’re gradually snapping back into place.

  The serum that Adena had created only worked temporarily. Our mission had failed before we even arrived here—the Chief Architect must have injected the Ghosts with something to counteract Red’s blood.

  No. Everything around me spirals. We’d always known this mission’s success would be a miracle. But I had still hoped.

  Jeran whirls into an attack against a Ghost that has targeted Adena with wide-open jaws. He cuts it hard in its legs, then stabs deep into its neck as it stumbles, severing its crucial vein.

  The edges of my vision are turning dark. We’ve failed. And now we are going to die here, on the soil of the Federation’s capital.

  Through my fading consciousness, I hear the Premier issue another command and shake his head once in my direction. Two advancing soldiers halt in their steps, their guns still pointed at me.

  From the sky comes the sound of wind. Through my bond, I feel Red’s presence turn overwhelming, his strength surging through my weakening body and filling me with heat. I instinctively tilt my face up to meet his, even though I can no longer see.

  I’m here, he tells me.

  Then he really is, a maelstrom of black metal and fury. I hear the Ghost scream as he barrels into it—and an instant later, I’m falling through the air to collapse to the ground. Get up, I command myself. I struggle to my feet, then stagger. My surroundings have become nothing but a streak of scarlet and night.

  Suddenly, a force lifts me from the ground. Wind rushes against my cheeks. I can feel Red’s firm grip on my arms.

  We’ve failed. The thought spins over and over in my mind until I can’t understand it any longer. It’s the last thing I remember before the world finally fades around me.