by CM Raymond
“The girl didn’t have a mother, and her father wasn’t a good man. She did everything for herself… and for her little brother.” The hooded figure paused, as did Julianne. Then the girl sat, laid the crutch across her lap, and turned her open hands up toward the strangers, waiting for a few to drop alms for her survival. “Begging always embarrassed the girl, but it didn’t matter. It was all she could do—and it provided for her tiny brother who was always sick.”
Julianne stopped talking again, focused on the image that she projected to the others, and the girl in the robe stood. As she stood, her body transformed, and she rose to the height of a full-grown adult. Her body filled out. She walked through the crowded streets, hands darting about, picking pockets as she spun through the sea of bodies.
Bumping one man, he looked down into the face hidden from the audience. He raised his brows and smiled, not noticing that he’d go home without his coin purse.
The kids giggled as they watched. Julianne enjoyed spinning the tale—she hadn’t told a real story since she was in the Heights. “The girl couldn’t stay a beggar forever. She grew up, and so did her skills on the streets.”
“She was bad,” a tiny child said.
“Well, maybe,” Julianne replied, glancing at Hannah. “But she never picked the pockets of the poor… and it was to save her brother.”
Keeping her eyes glued on the scene, the girl leaned back against Sal who shifted to accept her weight.
“And the girl did survive… just barely sometimes. She lived like any other kid in the streets. She was normal... until that fateful day when she learned that she was anything but normal.”
The image of the girl on the city street flickered and then disappeared. Every set of eyes turned toward Julianne, urging her to keep telling her tale. The story itself was engaging, but they had never seen images come to life in front of their eyes before. It was mesmerizing.
Julianne’s eyes turned back to white, and the girl returned, hood down, but facing away from the audience. Her body was bent over the broken body of a boy, several years her younger, and she trembled from the sobs they could not hear.
“That’s her brother,” Eponine said.
“It is,” Julianne replied. “The girl had done all she could to keep her brother alive and well-fed. She cared for nothing in the world other than him. But all of it did nothing to stop the evil from coming and destroying everything she loved.”
She rolled her wrist, and the image pivoted. Standing in the doorway of the worn-out house in the image were two men, snarling with hate and violence. The girl laid the boy on the ground with the gentleness of a new mother. It was the last gentle thing she did. She turned up her palms and fire appeared, dancing in her hands.
“She wasn’t normal. She had magic, and the evil men would pay.”
Just as the woman moved for the attack, the picture flickered and went out. Julianne’s eyes turned back to normal, and a slight, sad smile spread on her lips.
“She’s amazing,” Eponine said. The other children and adults nodded along with her. “I wish it were true. Then we wouldn’t need to stay here.”
Julianne’s eyes cut over to Hannah’s which were glassy with tears.
The mystic nodded. “It is true. And we won’t have to stay here long.”
Hannah cupped her hands and spread them apart, shaping a perfectly round ball of ice between her hands. Turning, she tossed it into the air with her right hand. With her left, she launched a thin, blue bolt of energy at it. The orb shattered and the ice turned to snow, which slowly drifted down on the children.
But none of them were focused on the snow. They were all staring at Hannah’s blood red eyes.
“It was you,” Eponine said. “Just like in the story. The Disciples used to talk about you. They said you were dangerous. They said you were a curse from the gods.”
Hannah smiled. “I can’t speak for the gods, but the Disciples were right about one thing. I am dangerous. And you can be dangerous, too.”
The young girl smiled up at Hannah, and Hannah could read the hunger in her eyes.
Hannah continued, now addressing the rest of the room. “And the truth is, that the magic within me can be yours as well. It’s not a curse, but a gift meant for all of us. Those men that killed my brother labeled me as an Unlawful. I once was terrified at the thought, but now I wear it with pride. And I know that I’m not the only Unlawful here. Some of you have already felt your own magical potential, but it’s time to take it to the next level. It’s time we began training for war, training to take back our home, training for justice. I can’t do this on my own. I need your help. So, if you’re willing to try, meet me here first thing tomorrow morning. Let’s show Adrien and his goons exactly how dangerous we can be.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Shit mother asshole jam,” Parker whisper-yelled as he looked down at the pipe he had used to enter and exit the city for years.
Hadley raised his brow. “Extra points for creativity on that one, Parker. But what are we going to do?”
They stared down at the three-foot pipe that had always been easily accessible. Now, its open mouth was covered over with a metal grate attached to the pipe with some sort of magitech device. It looked similar to the shackles that held Parker inside the factory for days. Reaching down, he grabbed the grate with both hands and pulled as hard as he could. It didn’t budge.
“Time for Plan B,” Marcus said, stepping back from the wall and dropping his backpack to the ground. He opened the bag and reached in. With a grin on his face, he pulled out a length of rope with a four-prong hook on the end. “Never leave home without it.”
“Bullshit,” Parker said.
“Okay. You got me. Never leave home without it when your goal is somehow getting to the other side of a giant wall. Trust me now?” Marcus winked as he unraveled the rope.
“Gonna take more than that,” Parker said. “Now you can lead us right up to where you want us.”
Marcus laughed. “Yep. So much more convenient this way. Might as well turn this into a noose right now.”
“Wait,” Hadley said before Marcus could try his luck with the grappling hook. The mystic’s eyes turned white, and he looked like he was whispering to himself. He snapped back into focus seconds later. “OK, the coast is clear. Let it rip.”
Spinning the grappling hook in his right hand, Marcus let it fly at just the right moment. With a clatter, it dropped on the other side of the wall. They all held their breath while they waited to see if there was any response from within. Hearing none, Marcus pulled on the line until the hook caught something solid.
He leaned back and nodded. “This will work. You want to go first, Parker? Say, ‘Hi’ to my men at the top?”
Hadley laughed. “I’ll go. Don’t want our Arcadian to piss himself if there’s someone walking around up there.”
“Funny,” Parker sneered. “I need a second anyway.”
He turned from Hadley and Marcus and back toward the women standing in a circle behind them. They ranged in ages from eighteen to their fifties. Each was strong physically and inspired by a vision of a better life in Arcadia. Each one had stood with Parker against the Disciples in the Boulevard. He trusted each of them deeply.
“Change of plans. The three of us are going in,” he said, looking at each of them as he talked. “If all goes well, we’ll be coming back over with more weapons than we can carry back to the tower. I’m going to break you into two groups.”
He drew a line through the middle of the circle and then nodded to the right side. “You all will stay here—back off the wall a bit. Your job is to keep watch. If people come, don’t freak out and don’t engage. I’ll be watching for a signal from you when we get back to the top of the wall.”
“What’s the signal,” a round, older woman asked.
Parker pulled a small magitech torch from his belt and handed it to her. “If you wait and watch carefully, you’ll see one of us emerge on top of the wall in th
e moonlight. I’ll be looking right out here.”
She looked down at the tech in her hand. “OK. What’s the code?”
“Flash it three times if the coast is clear. If there’s someone around, flash it twice. Got it?”
She nodded. “No problem.”
“And what’s our job?” a woman’s voice on the right asked.
Parker turned and saw that it was Krystal. She was one of the strongest of his new team, and he had seen her bash a half dozen Disciple heads in during the battle. He had heard that her husband died in the factory. He was too strong and too proud to submit to their rules. It was clear that his wife was cut from the same kind of cloth.
“I’m going to need you to get resourceful with the other ladies.” Parker grinned. “If all goes well, and I hope it does, we’re going to have one heck of a hike back to the tower. You’re going to take these other five and head for Arcadia’s gate. Sometimes, traders and travelers will leave their carts there for the guards to look after. I need you to get one for us. Something we can use to haul back our earnings.”
“What if they stop us?”
His smile broadened. “That’s why I’m asking you. I’m sure you’ll figure something out. We need that cart.”
“It’ll be here,” she said with a grim look on her face.
Parker turned back to the rope. He nodded toward Hadley. “All right, mental maniac; you’re up.”
Without a word, Hadley grabbed the rope with both hands, placed his feet up against the wall, and started to climb. Parker was impressed by the man’s agility. He climbed the rope as smoothly as a dancer, and before he knew it, Hadley mantled up onto the top of the wall.
Looking at Marcus, Parker said, “You’re next.”
With more brawn than grace, Marcus flew up the rope faster than Hadley had. The two waved down from the top of the wall, signaling that it was safe to come up. Parker looked back at the crew he’d assigned to watch duty, gave them a nod, and then grabbed the rope.
He pulled himself up toward the top, toes finding little footholds in the seams between the rocks laid decades before. His hands burned, but he barely noticed. His mind kept mulling over the questions at hand. Would they find the armory? What kind of force would be waiting for them there? Would they even be able to get the guns back to the tower if they could steal them? But the biggest of the questions sat on top of the tower wall, waiting. And as he made the last few strides, he stared into the face of the unknown.
Marcus grinned. “So far, so good, Parker. No guards waiting up here for you. Except for me.”
Parker rolled his eyes, though he doubted Marcus could see it in the dark. “Let’s just get the job done,” Parker said. He nodded to the south. “This way. I know a way down over here.”
The wall was thick enough for them to stand on, but they still needed to be careful where they stepped, otherwise one of them would go tumbling into the darkness.
They crept around the edge of the city in the direction of the Boulevard. But Parker knew that there was nothing left for them there. He used to know three different buildings that would have let them crawl down into Arcadia undetected. But they were probably smoldering ruins, which forced him to improvise.
The city streets were silent. It was after curfew, but even so, there would’ve been more nobles walking their quarter ten days ago. Something was different since they had left Arcadia—and it set the three men on edge.
A few hundred yards down the wall, Parker found what he was looking for. A flat-roofed building easily within their jumping range. Scanning the block, he realized they were in the place of the city where the Noble Quarter melted into the market—a no man’s land of Arcadia. The building had to be some sort of storehouse for goods sold during the day in the market square.
He patted Hadley on the shoulder. “Here,” Parker said, nodding toward the roof.
The mystic glanced at the flat roof and then took in the streets surrounding it. All was quiet.
“Just in case, let me whip something up for us,” he said.
Before Parker could say a word, he saw Hadley’s eyes cover over in milky white. Then, his new friend appeared before him looking like himself, only dressed as a Capitol Guard. His eyes cut over to Marcus, and he looked the same.
“I like your style,” Parker laughed. “Let’s just not forget to cool it with the guard looks before we get back to my bad ass bitches from the Boulevard. I imagine they might kick ass first and ask questions later—and that’s something I have no desire to experience.”
Marcus looked down at the familiar uniform that the mystic was casting on him. He raised a brow. “Pretty authentic, Hadley. But you blokes remember, after the situation with Julianne posing as Stellan for all that time, the Guard is on high alert for these mystical antics. Might work from a distance, but at close quarters, they’ll be looking for anyone who doesn’t fit. Don’t get cocky.”
“Fair enough,” Parker responded. And then, without any warning, he turned, took the two steps that the top of the wall afforded him, and jumped for the building sitting parallel the wall. Landing as softly as possible, he ducked into a roll and scrambled up to his knees. He waved to Marcus and Hadley, and the two men did the same.
Marcus crept over to the western side of the roof, and Parker and Hadley followed. They knelt behind the two-foot wall separating them from the Arcadian streets below.
“We need to move quietly now,” Marcus said. “The last thing we want is to stumble across a patrol.”
“Easy,” Parker said as he unslung the magitech spear from his back. “I’ve been dodging the Guard my whole life. And I’m pretty sure the three of us could hold our own if we were spotted.”
The soldier grinned. “Listen, you’re a tough little bastard—I’ll give you that. But give the Guards the credit that is due to them, or else you’ll end up paying for it in the end. These men are trained killers, armed with the best possible weapons. No one back at the tower will trust me if you end up dying tonight.”
Parker nodded, unwilling to verbally admit he was wrong. But he knew he was. Capitol Guards were well-trained killing machines. One victory on the streets of the Boulevard wouldn’t change that fact.
Marcus nodded off to their right. “Follow me. A few blocks to the main armory. If you think we can find a way across on the rooftops, then that’s our safest bet. If all is configured as before, there will be a Guard or two outside the front door and one in the back. That’ll be our way in.”
Parker glanced at Hadley, but couldn’t read anything on his face. “All right, you lead. But remember…”
“What’s that?”
“I’m right on your ass.” He held his weapon up. “And Gregory’s spear is no joke.”
Marcus snorted. “Are you sure you weren’t in the Guard? My old commander used to make that same joke.”
He turned before getting a reply and headed off in a light jog across the rooftop. They moved silently across several buildings. Hadley’s footfalls barely made a sound—and Marcus wasn’t much louder. Parker realized that they had both trained—each in their own way. While agility and speed were always a part of his hustle on the streets, Parker realized he never relied much on stealth. That was usually Hannah’s job. He watched how the two men moved, mimicking their style.
The three men jumped a gap to another flat roof. Landing into a roll, they crouched low, waiting for movement.
A man emerged from behind a square box—likely a stairwell into the structure. “Who’s there?” he called into the night.
Marcus held his hand up to the others. “I’ve got this,” he whispered. Many decibels louder, he called out, “It’s Ficker.” Marcus motioned to Parker and Hadley to stay back. “Who’s that?”
The man walked toward Marcus, and Parker could see that he was a Guard. His eyes narrowed, trying to get a view of the man in the Capitol uniform on his rooftop. “Ficker? What the hell, thought you were in the Madlands.”
“It’s mad enough h
ere,” Marcus said with a grin, as he got closer to the Guard. The man started to smile, then recognition filled his eyes.
“Fucking Marc—”
Before he could finish, Marcus cracked him on the side of the head with a closed fist. The man nearly dropped, but gained his footing as he drew his magitech weapon from his hip.
“Let’s keep it civil,” Marcus said, as he landed a crescent kick to the man’s knee, dropping him to the ground. The magitech clattered on the roof.
The man looked up, eyes wide, as all three of the members of the rebellion surrounded him. Raising his hands, he knew his fate. “Come on, chaps,” he said through quivering lips.
Parker’s eyes gleamed in the moonlight as he pulled his knife. The memories of fallen women and children in the Boulevard came back to him as he looked into the eyes of the Guard. As he drove the blade downward for the kill, a hand caught his arm before the steel met its goal.
“Not like this,” Hadley said to Parker. His eyes flashed white, and a glaze fell over the Guard’s face. “He won’t remember a thing.” Taking the man by the hair, Hadley swung his knee into his temple. His body dropped to the flat roof. “And he’ll wake up with a hell of a headache sometime tomorrow.”
Parker looked down at the unconscious man. For a second, he considered finishing the job with his blade. If he didn’t today, he would fight him again another. Glancing back at Hadley, he watched the mystic shake his head.
Not like this, he repeated, only this time inside of Parker’s head. There will be time for blood, time for justice. But killing an unarmed man like him is not what we’re made for. Save the kills for battle.
Nodding, Parker turned away from the body. He would comply, but he wasn’t sure if he agreed. These men needed to pay for their crimes. The one at his feet was in no way innocent. But their mission was important, and Parker still wasn’t sure about Marcus. Pissing off Hadley could have devastating consequences.
He glanced from Marcus to the mystic. “Just tonight,” he said. “No promises next time these assbags step up to me.”
