New World Inferno

by Jennifer Wilson

  After taking two of the knives for my own collection, I shut the door and leaned against the cool surface.

  “Make sure these are delivered into the right hands. The hunting party will need the majority, but the others will need protection too. I watched Grenald and his pack of followers talking near the now closed door. “Maybe don’t hand these out until the last minute.”

  “So does this mean you’re going to tell us what the hell this freaking plan of yours is then?” Archer followed the trajectory of my stare before stepping into my sight line, forcing me to see only her exasperated face.

  “Can you keep your shit together this time?” I countered.

  Her eyes threw fire at me.

  Baxter leaned over my shoulder, his head inclined at Archer. “Of course she can keep it together, I mean look at the glare. Very reassuring.”

  He grinned when she punched him in the arm, clearly not amused. Baxter dug his pinky finger into his ear, clearly unfazed.

  “It’s time.” Triven’s hand brushed mine as he drew me to the center of the room again. “You ready?”

  “Not really.” I said honestly. “Do we have a choice?”

  “Not really.” He echoed somberly.

  8. BLOOD

  S USPICIOUS GLARES FOLLOWED us as we emerged from the locker bank. People were taking in my pack, the way it hung heavily from my hip.

  “You’re leaving?” Arstid’s eyes flickered from me to her son. The room fell into utter silence, even the precious silver food bags stopped crinkling.

  “Archer and I need to go see someone.” Archer’s left eye twitched, but other than the minuscule movement, she gave no hint of surprise. “Another rogue. If you want to keep your people safe, we’re going to need help. I have a few f-friends.” No one missed the stutter in my words. The use of the word friends sounded strange even to my own ears. “I can’t promise they’re going to help us, but we need to try. We can’t stay here.”

  Heads bobbed in agreement, looking at their sad meals and the stained walls. Grenald folded his thick arms, but didn’t say anything. Nor did those around him.

  As my mouth suddenly filled with cotton, Triven took the reins, sensing my unease to keep speaking. “We’re moving out tonight and are going to need volunteers for a hunting party. Supplies are low and only the most able-bodied are welcome to join us. Who are of age.” He amended, shooting a glance at Mouse. “But, as badly as we need supplies, we will also need people to stay here and help protect the others.”

  It was easy to tell those eager to go on the hunt, their feet already carrying them closer. There were more than I had expected, to be honest, although many would not be viable volunteers. Still, their gumption surprised me.

  Triven raised his hands, stalling them. “We’re going into the Ravagers’ food warehouse. Phoenix knows the best way in, but I can’t guarantee anyone’s safety.”

  Several people faltered, fear crept into eyes, but still they remained steadfast. Fists flexed, jaws set. They were not backing down. How was it possible that these were the same people who had dissolved into full-blown panic only moments ago? Odd that fear could make a person lose their mind one instant and gather courage the next. It was funny like that.

  “Good,” Triven smiled half-heartedly at his people. “We’ll go over the plans after everyone rests. We still need someone—”

  “I will stay here and watch over the others.” A slender woman with lean muscles clutching a toddler to her chest stepped forward. Despite her obvious mothering nature, her weathered face was set in a determined line. One set of her fingers clutched the little boy, while the others caressed a sidearm on her hip. She met my gaze, she wouldn’t let anything happen to my Mouse or the others.

  My heart throbbed. She reminded me so much of Veyron. I hoped our missing friend was still out there, still alive. Selfishly, my guilty conscience needed her to be alive.

  “Everyone grab some food and a little shuteye. We’ll meet in two hours to make a plan.” The groups began to disperse with Triven’s words. Those eager to get started however, stayed close with no intention of resting.

  Archer sidled next to me.

  I began checking my weapons. “Grab what you need. We’re leaving.”

  She tapped her rifle pointedly. “Ready when you are.”

  “Fine.” I turned back to Triven. “You know where you’re taking them?”

  His lips quirked. “For the tenth time, I’ve got this. Besides, Baxter knows this city nearly as well as you these days. He’ll keep us on course.”

  At the sound of his name, a boastful grin lit the sniper’s face. “I doubt anyone knows this city like P here, but I sure as hell am getting a feel for the skyline. Don’t worry,” he slapped Triven a little too hard on the shoulder. “We’ll be wherever you need us.”

  Shaking off Baxter’s hand, Triven leaned in closer, sweeping his lips across my cheek as they sought my ear. “Be careful.”

  I knew he wanted to tell me to stay, to remind me that separating was a bad idea, but Triven held his tongue. We were in agreement despite our selfish desires to stay together. I needed someone here to keep an eye on everyone. No one was to be left unguarded at any point, not until we knew who could be trusted. I needed him to be our eyes, while I found a more secure shelter. Plus, Archer deserved answers, answers only I could give her. We needed her on our side and I was leery she would explode again. That couldn’t happen here. Not in front of these scared, angry people. The group was teetering on a knife’s edge and someone with Archer’s influence could tip the scales with a simple nod of her head.

  Triven’s hand closed around my forearm, fingers squeezing, speaking volumes. I returned the gesture as he straightened, squeezing so hard it hurt. “You too.”

  His gaze followed mine to Grenald. The man watched us shrewdly. But the giant’s glare finally fell away when mine did not.

  A small hand tugged on my pant leg. Fear colored Mouse’s features, pulling her shoulders inward. I bent wiping a smudge of dirt from her cheek.

  Together. You promised.

  “You’re right, we need to do this together. That’s why I need to get Archer on our side. Right?”

  I guess so. Her face fell, seeing reason.

  “We will meet you soon.”

  Hurry.

  I hugged the child to my chest, her frail arms clutching me equally tight. “Always.” I took hold of Mouse’s shoulders, peeling her away from me. As always, the child seemed to take a small piece of me with her. “Watch over the other children. They’re not all as brave as you.”

  The girl’s shoulders lifted, chest inflating with pride. Her sharp chin nodded seriously as she backed into Triven’s waiting hands.

  Reluctantly, I turned away, ready to beckon our one-handed friend only to find Arstid whispering in her ear. The older woman stiffened at my gaze, squaring her shoulders as I approached. Deliberately, Arstid was blocking our only exit.

  “You realize this buddy-system of yours applies to you too? Archer doesn’t leave your side.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Where exactly is it that you’re going?” I half expected to see icicles clinging to Arstid’s tongue, her tone was so cold.

  “The fewer people that know, the better. I think you understand why.”

  Her mouth pinched.

  “Triven knows and I suppose he can fill you in after we leave, if you insist. At least that way if anything goes wrong, we’ll know who is to blame for a betrayal.”

  A sneer twisted Arstid’s mouth, souring her words. “Keep your eye on her.”

  Archer smiled wickedly. “With pleasure.”

  “Like mother like daughter.” Arstid spat as she plowed past, her shoulder colliding with mine.

  I bit my tongue smothering the words. “You have no idea…”

  Not daring to steal a glance backwards, I headed for the door with Archer on my heels.

  “You better have packed some answers in that bag of yours.” Archer lowere
d her voice. She checked the safety on her rifle as we entered the empty hall, rather dramatically snapping it off. “I’ll shoot you if I think you’re lying to me.”

  “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, Archer. But for now, get your head in the game. We’re going to see The Healer.”

  “WE’RE STICKING TO the streets?” There was a hint of a whine to Archer’s tone. I was coming to learn her irritability was often a smokescreen for fear. “You do realize it’s broad daylight out, right?”

  My feet continued their serpentine path through the battered street. The map of the skyline played through my head, giving my steps purpose. Tartarus seemed different from down here, strange in the daylight. The sun was not bright—certainly not by the Sanctuary’s standards—but it still cast an unfamiliar light to the city I had grown used to seeing in shadow.

  I intentionally ignored Archer’s irritated questions.

  “So, what did Arstid say? To shoot me in the back? To keep an eye on her favorite little rogue? Or maybe I’m due for a little accident on our outing.”

  “Something like that. Interesting how she seems to sense you’re a liar.”

  I hesitated in the mouth of an alley, twisting so she could see me roll my eyes.

  “I never lied to you, Archer.” Her eyebrows rose and I amended my statement. “Not about anything important.”

  “Sooo I’m supposed to believe that you ‘just found out’ your lineage is from the people who happened to banish us here?”

  “Yes.” I turned my back to the streets, facing her straight on, daring her to question me.

  Her eyes probed my face.

  “You’re either a hell of a liar, or about as damn stupid as they come.”

  I glared at her. “I’m not a liar.”

  “So, stupid it is.”

  “You do remember I saved your life once.” I turned away and scanned the streets, letting out a low curse.

  Three Scavengers were prowling an alley. Picking through the rubble for unknown treasures. Fortunately, they hadn’t seen us yet, their feet still lazily heading our way. Archer and I pressed ourselves into the dwindling shadows.

  “We need to take shelter until they pass.” I hissed, signaling Archer to back up.

  “Like I said, stupid.” Her voice lowered to barely a whisper, but she moved.

  I could hear the vindictive smile in her hushed tones. Squelching the urge to shut her mouth with my fist, I nodded at a gaping hole in the wall halfway back down our alley. Unlike the approaching Scavengers, our feet made no noise against the asphalt. The canvas of my bag slipped into the shadows just as their filthy stench rounded the corner, our breath held, feet frozen. If they came down the alley we would have to kill them. The room we had slipped into offered little shelter, and while there was a crumbling set of stairs visible in the corner, we wouldn’t make it there before being seen if they followed.

  Their steps paused at the mouth of the alley, not pursuing but not leaving either. Scraping noises and guttural grunting echoed down the alley walls and through the hole as they dragged something metal into the streets, undoubtedly digging for rotten goodies. While it was obvious they weren’t going to come our direction, unfortunately it also appeared they had no intention of leaving anytime soon. The rats were settling in right in the middle of our path.

  We would have to wait them out.

  The Scavengers weren’t the most fearsome Tribe, but they were one of the most feral. They tended to swarm like parasites and if these three caught wind of us, the entire Tribe could descend within minutes like flies to a carcass, ready to pick us clean.

  My companion’s expression curdled, still she followed as my feet picked a line through the rubble toward the stairs. Careful not to dislodge any of the wreckage, we moved in a series of advances and pauses, listening to every movement made outside. As we settled ourselves in on the second floor, safely hidden from the Scavenger’s view and ears, what little patience Archer had, evaporated.

  “We should have taken the rooftops.” A flush was creeping up her throat into her cheeks. Her leggy frame was posted sentinel-like by a blown-out window. Her body was buzzing with tension, long fingers thrumming on her rifle’s hilt.

  Doing my best to appear calm in contrast to her agitation, I sat on what looked like an overturned bookcase. “The roofs in the daytime are not safe. Especially not in this area, they’re too low and make you an easy target for a sniper. It’s safer on the streets. More places to hide.” I gestured at the building around us.

  “We’re moving at a snail’s pace.”

  “Of course we are. Why do you think we left when we did? Trust me, it wasn’t because I wanted quality time with you.” My fingers idly doodled patterns into the dust collected on the metal surface beneath me.

  “Please, everyone wants more quality time with me. I’m a ray of sunshine.” Her dark eyes glared at the streets below, her rifle shifting threateningly in her hand.

  “Obviously.”

  She opened her mouth ready to snip back, but a clang from outside silenced her. We stiffened, but as the sounds of a squabble rose through the windows we both relaxed. Apparently, the rats had found a tasty morsel worth fighting over. Keeping hidden, Archer leaned forward, watching them quarrel below us. I stretched on my perch to see for myself.

  Two of the Scavengers were brawling over a glinting object. Both men were emaciated, but power packed every punch thrown. The third party member, a younger girl, watched mildly entertained, chewing on what looked like raw rabbit leg. My stomach soured as her teeth grated over the bone, scraping off every last morsel.

  “You seriously want to join up with these asshats?” Archer was eyeing them with disgust. The girl gave a little cheer as the taller man overpowered the other, knocking the smaller man flat.

  I slouched, pinning my gaze on Archer. “I don’t want to do anything, but we’re starting a war. Everyone is going to have to do things they don’t want to.”

  “I’m not helping you.”

  “You’ve made that painfully clear.”

  Her was jaw set, eyes throwing knives. “Do you want power? Is that why you’re doing this? You want to lead your own army?”

  I snorted, trying to suppress a laugh. “Please, I would make a crap leader. Killing people, fending for myself—that I’m good at. Leading a group of murderous thugs, not so much. Let’s see… Current recruitment tally—two Taciturns found, two dead—Great start!!”

  “In all fairness, I was the one who shot those two.” She looked more proud than remorseful. I didn’t respond, letting the silence hang between us.

  Finally, she sighed.

  “So, you’re seriously the heir to the Sanctuary?” Archer looked somber, a tinge of fear swelled in her eyes when I nodded. “That man who tortured you…”

  “Is my g-grandfather.” My tongue swelled around the word, unwilling to let it out.

  “And he’s the one you want to kill.”

  “He’s the one we must kill.”

  She swore, rolling her eyes up to the crumbling ceiling. “Let me see if I got this straight. You get to raise an army to kill your sadistic family. While me, on the other hand, I’m being asked to beg my murderous bloodlines to join your little shindig. Doesn’t really seem fair, does it?” Archer’s lips curled up. “Really Phoenix, how would you feel if I asked you to partner up with Fandrin after everything he did to you?”

  The color drained from my face. I braced myself, preparing to stomach a lie, but the words falling out of my mouth were truth. “I hate that monster with every fiber of my being, just like you hate your old Tribe. But somethings are bigger than us. Thousands of lives are at stake here. If we can’t put our own crap aside, it’s our loved ones who will suffer. Do you really want them to die because you couldn’t get over your own family bullshit?”

  Archer’s gaze fell away, closing before meeting mine again. “This is a monstrous thing you’re asking of us.”

  “Sometimes monstrous things mus
t be done to kill a monster.”

  She took a shuddering breath. “Is he really that terrible?”

  “Let’s just say, I’m sure he makes your mother look like a saint.”

  Archer chortled darkly, “You haven’t met her.”

  “You haven’t met him.”

  She worried her bottom lip, eyeing me speculatively. “I’ll help you with the other Tribes, but I want nothing to do with the Wraiths.”

  “Because your mother took your hand—”

  “Because she’s their leader now.” Archer swallowed, the words grinding through her clenched teeth. “Grenald told me, he defected after I did. Taking my hand tipped power in her favor. My left hand gave her the throne.”

  There were no words I could offer of comfort and I knew Archer wouldn’t want to hear them anyway. So, I told her the truth. “Well, I guess we can agree both of our families suck.”

  “To say the least… Apparently homicidal bloodlines are all the rage these days.” Tremors shook Archer’s right hand as it tightened on the gun, thinking of her own family. “But why keep it hidden? Everyone will find out eventually. If The Wall is really coming down like you claim, they will find out who you are.”

  “Eventually, but hopefully not until they’ve already judged me for who I am and because not my genetics. It’s the same reason Triven doesn’t readily tell people Arstid is his mother. I mean, how many of your friends know who your mother is?” I glanced at her disfigured arm.

  “Arstid is the only one, not even Triven knows,” she stared down at the streets. “Obviously, a few of the other deserters too, but they’ve held their tongues. We don’t talk about our pasts in the Subversive. Our pasts stay in the past.”

  Her eyes finally met mine and I knew we understood each other. These were not secrets to be shared. In confiding in one another, we had armed the other. Archer knew she couldn’t divulge my secret without her own being shared and vice versa.