Anew: Book Two: Hunted

by Litton, Josie

  “I don’t care! I have to get away!”

  His curse is raw and virulent. “Stop! I’m coming across. Stay where you are!”

  I don’t dare glance over my shoulder to see what Ian is doing but I sense him in the darkness, on his feet, crouched low, moving between shadows.

  If I can keep Davos distracted-- “You want to hurt me!”

  “No! That’s a lie! I know how wonderful you are, Amelia. How special. Ian wanted to keep you to himself. I want to share you with the world. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I don’t know…” Desperately, I try to keep him talking.

  “Of course, you would. What woman wouldn’t? You’ll be adored, worshipped even. You’re a superior being, Amelia. With me, you can be the beginning of an entirely new race of humans. You’ll be their Eve.”

  Bile rises in my throat. No doubt the race of humans that Davos envisions creating will be superior in his eyes. Docile slaves to do the bidding of the elite are vastly preferable to the great mass of humans who refuse to believe that their time has passed but who instead go on stubbornly determined to live.

  With a shock, I realize that there may be no better example of that than the scavengers. Instead of fleeing the sounds of gunshots and screams, they are coming out of the shadows and cautiously drawing nearer. Most are men, all are armed. Among the clubs, spears, and old vintage rifles I glimpse an unexpected scattering of far more up-to-date weapons.

  Dimly, I wonder how they came by such things and what their possession of them would mean if an uprising ever does occur. But there’s no time to think of that. Davos has yet to notice that we are no longer alone. He crosses the nearest stone span and comes toward me. His arm is outstretched, the gun pointed into the shadows where Ian is no longer.

  “If you’re lying to me--” he begins.

  He doesn’t get any further. Ian comes out the darkness straight at him, hurtling them both to the ground. With his youth and strength, the struggle is brief, or it should be. A scream bubbles up in my throat when I realize that Davos is no longer alone. Men in dark suits are rushing down the tunnel to his aid. He sees them, too, but his smile of triumph is short lived.

  The scavengers have taken up position on the other side of the water. Confronted by a threat to the only world that offers them any safety, they don’t hesitate. As they open fire, several of the goons fall, wounded or dead, I can’t tell which. A few of the others return fire but they retreat quickly before the men in ragged clothes who will not yield an inch of the ground on which they stand.

  And they aren’t alone. Men in the uniforms of Slade Enterprises are coming from the other end of the tunnel. They move at a run, in tight formation, closing on us quickly. They will be here in seconds. Davos throws back his head with a howl of rage that makes the hairs on the nape of my neck rise. Whatever is inside him, it is not meant to see the light of day. He fires wildly, the bullet winging past just inches from my side.

  “Amelia!”

  Instinctively, Ian moves to protect me. He abandons his hold on Davos, who quickly scrambles to escape. The scavengers have cut off access to one end of the tunnel and Ian’s men are coming from the other. That leaves only the aqueduct.

  “You think you’ve won,” Davos shouts. “You have no idea what you’ve unleashed!”

  His taunt is still booming against the tunnel walls when he hurtles himself into the dark, swirling waters and swiftly vanishes from sight.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~

  By the time Ian and I return to the surface, Hollis and the men with him have possession of the Club. The Lords of Misrule have fled. The faceless servants are in custody along with the few goons left alive. Of the women, I see no sign at all. I remind myself to make sure that they will be cared for.

  Sitting huddled in Ian’s jacket while he and Hollis talk, the final moments in the tunnel keep replaying in my mind. Davos…his maniacal smile…the glee behind his words as he went into the dark water.

  He never struck me as suicidal. Evil, obsessed, dangerous, all that but I never once thought that he might take his own life. He is--was?--far too narcissistic for that. But once he was cornered, confronted with having to face the consequences for what he had done including trying to kill two of the most powerful men in the city, might he have chosen death as the better alternative?

  Try though I do, I can’t quite wrap my head around that.

  “Ready to go?” Ian asks softly.

  He has concluded his conversation with Hollis and is at my side, looking down at me with an expression of such fierce gentleness that he robs me of breath. I take his hand and am drawn up close beside him. Our bodies brush once…again…and the fire that is never far beneath the surface ignites.

  Against the curve of my cheek, Ian murmurs, “Let’s go home.”

  Oh, yes. Home. High in the clouds above the city, or in the serenity of the palazzo, or amid the warmth and honesty of the beach house. Home is wherever Ian is. The only place I want to be.

  And yet…something makes me hesitate.

  “What did Davos mean?” I hate even saying his name but I can’t let this go.

  “About what?”

  “Right at the end, when he said that you had no idea what you were unleashing.”

  Ian sighs. He presses his lips lightly to my forehead. “He was insane, Amelia. Remember? Forget what he said. All that matters is that he’s dead.”

  “Are you sure that he is?” I blurt out the question before I can stop myself. As much as I want to believe Ian, I still can’t reconcile the Davos both I and Susannah knew with his actions right at the end.

  “By now his body is jammed in one of the old water tunnels that are fed by the aqueduct,” Ian says. “Divers will go in and recover it. That is if the scavengers don’t get it first.” Quietly, he adds, “They were a surprise.”

  I nod. “I can’t help wondering what they’d be able to do if they had some support.”

  “I wouldn’t put them up against the Municipal Protection Services.”

  “No, of course not--”

  “At least not yet,”

  I’m mulling over this sudden glimpse into the future that he may be contemplating when Ian glances toward the entrance to the Club. “Speaking of, the MPS has arrived. Their commander wants a word. It will just take a minute and then we’ll go, all right?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  We step out together into the glare of searchlights that eclipse the soft blanket of dusk settling over the rest of the city. I’m distantly aware of drones hovering overhead, relaying images of the scene back to whoever is authorized to receive them. It’s a safe bet that doesn’t include Manhattan’s residents, snug in their luxury cocoons, dreaming that they are butterflies. I wonder how much they will ever be allowed to know about the horrors just below the surface of their city. Or how much they would care in any case.

  A man in the benign blue MPS uniform ornamented with an array of ribbons and insignia approaches. He’s tall, very fit, and with a practiced air of command but he’s not as imperturbable as he appears at first glance. On closer scrutiny, I can see that despite the coolness of the evening, his forehead is beaded with sweat.

  “Mr. Slade,” he says, “If you’d just step over here. I’d like to get a video statement from you. It will only take a moment.”

  Ian shrugs. He leaves me with Hollis, who has come with us, and goes to stand in front of the camera that’s already set up and waiting.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” the commander says. He steps back.

  As Ian begins explaining in calm, measured tones why his forces invaded a private club patronized by many of the most powerful men in the city, I look around. There must be several hundred members of the MPS on hand, all heavily armed. They have their visors down, making it impossible to see their faces. But I can see that several are fingering their weapons. Some, like their commander, are visibly sweating.

  Most of Ian’s men are still inside the Club, guarding priso
ners and searching for anyone who might be hiding on the premises. But several dozen have joined us. A small enough number against the MPS.

  Why am I thinking that? Ian is just giving a statement and then we’re going. Of course, there will be more to follow in the coming days. The Council will want to appear to still be in charge even if Davos really is dead and despite the fact that their other masters, the Lords of Misrule, are in disarray. Perhaps Ian will appear before them again--

  The words I spoke to him right before he left for the Council meeting yesterday suddenly echo in my mind. “You aren’t above the law, Ian, however unjust it is. If you’re seen as posing a threat to the established order, there won’t be any limits to the response against you. What happens then?”

  Speaking into the camera, he says, “Those who hold power in this city and beyond must be held accountable for their actions by all citizens.”

  An icy finger of dread moves down my spine. The officer in charge has backed farther away from where Ian is standing, leaving him alone in a circle of light. I become aware of a low, persistent hum that is growing louder. Looking up, I see yet another drone approaching. But this one is different. A dark, cylindrical shape hangs below its belly. I don’t know what it is but the sight of it strikes fear into me all the same.

  “Ian!” I cry out.

  He hears and turns but just as he does, the drone launches. I have an instant to see a gleaming projectile hurtling on its trajectory before the scene vanishes in an incandescent burst. The force of the explosion staggers me. I only just manage to stay upright, gasping and fighting for breath. With torturous slowness, my vision clears. What I see drags a scream from the depths of my soul.

  Ian is lying motionless among shards of smoking metal. His body is twisted in a shape that tells me instantly that he is seriously hurt. Or worse. I can’t think of that. I can’t!

  Hollis is cursing, yelling orders to the men who are streaming out of the Club, taking up positions facing off against the MPS. But I’m hardly aware of them. I’m running, screaming, falling to my knees beside Ian. I cradle his head in my lap, sobbing. His blood flows into my hands; I can’t stop it. My heart is shattering. No nightmare I have endured, no pain I have experienced has ever come close to equaling this. I hold onto him desperately, pleading with him to stay, to fight. To live. But he is beyond hearing me.

  Crimson drops soak the ground of the glittering, corrupt city and mingle with my tears.

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  ANEW: Book One: Awakened

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  ANEW: Book Three: The Epilogue

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  This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 Josie Litton. All rights reserved.

  ANEW: Book Two: Hunted

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