Radicals (Blood & Fire)

by Frankie Rose

  Over the next few minutes I gain three new bruises, a pocket full of mud and one lightly twisted ankle. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m so breakable after all. In return, Ryka gains a bruised rib, a split lip and mud everywhere. When we’re done, he flicks his knives into the dirt, grinning. I know what he’s planning.

  “No! No, please don’t!” No use. Ryka grabs me by the waist, pressing his muddy chest up against me. “Ahhh! You jerk!”

  “You love me,” he tells me.

  My body goes instantly limp in his arms, like the words have severed all communication between my brain and my body. I don’t disagree with him. The fact that I don’t agree, either, makes him shake his head ruefully. We don’t talk about it. “That was a dog shot you landed on me,” he whispers into my ear. “My ribs are going to be black and blue now.” His breath is hot against my chilled, rain-soaked skin. I shiver, and he tenses a little. For some reason I don’t freeze up like I often do when he’s this close. Maybe it’s how warm he is against me. Maybe it’s that I crave his touch more and more these days and I can’t seem to help it. Either way, I reach up and wrap my arms around his neck. It feels natural, like I fit here. Ryka’s eyes, deep brown, bow as he smiles carefully. He’s waiting for me to run. It takes almost everything I’ve got, but this time I don’t.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask him. My voice is decidedly broken, which makes my cheeks feel hot. He chuckles, and then carefully wraps his arms around my waist. This is the closest we’ve ever been. It’s playing havoc with my body; I have no idea what’s going on.

  “I hate to break it to you, little Kit, but you’re looking at me in exactly the same way.”

  “I am not!” There’s no way I’m looking at him the way he’s looking at me right now. Like I’m naked. Like he wants…I don’t even know what he wants. What I want. Oh, Gods, maybe I was! Ryka bursts out laughing, like he can hear the meltdown taking place inside my head. I bury my face into his shoulder, embarrassed by his laughter but enjoying it, too. Seems like a long time since he’s laughed. I hold him tight, and he places a kiss into the crook of my neck, making me tremble. My skin vibrates as he mmms, his lips still pressed against me.

  “You’re so sweet, little Kit. I don’t know what to do with you.”

  Sweet? Is sweet a good thing? I’ve been described as stubborn, aggressive, violent, rude, arrogant and bloodthirsty since I’ve been here. Never sweet. I decide not to overanalyse.

  “I know what you need to do with me.”

  He pulls back. Surprise raises his eyebrows. “What?”

  He’s not going to like this. “You need to take me and Luca to be with the others.” The smile fades.

  “That’s what you want?”

  I nod. “Luca will be walking soon. We’re in danger while we’re here, and so is everyone else.”

  “You think you’ll be safer with James?”

  “Not with James. With Penny and Callum. With you. Just not here.”

  Ryka nods, places his chin on the top of my head. I’ve never felt small before, but somehow I do when I’m folded into him like this. It feels good.

  “Okay,” he breathes. “I’ll think about it.”

  My body sags against him—I thought he was going to refuse point blank. Seems I was wrong. At least thinking about it isn’t a straight-out no. “Thank you.”

  “Ryka?” Jack steps out of his tent on the other side of the clearing. He takes one look at us, standing in the rain, clinging to each other, and does little to hide his smile. “I…uh…when you get a minute? We need to talk.”

  ******

  “I can’t do it.” Luca sits at the edge of my bed and scowls. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. I don’t think he even realises.

  “How are you planning on washing if you can’t get yourself to the river?” Melody asks him. She’s been here with him every day since he woke up. I think she’s a little fascinated by my dark-haired, dark-tempered little brother. I started out fascinated but now I’m just getting annoyed with him. I stand with my arms folded across my chest, observing his stubborn refusal to get out of bed. My bed.

  “Do you want me to get Ella to give you a sponge bath again?” I ask him. Luca’s cheeks flush. Seems his humility is working just fine now that his halo is long gone. The prospect of a middle-aged woman seeing him naked is enough to at least get him onto his feet.

  “I’m too dizzy. I won’t be able to make it.”

  “If you look like you’re going to fall, I’ll catch you.”

  “I don’t need you to catch me, Kit. I NEED YOU ALL TO LEAVE SO I CAN GO AND WASH!” he roars, his face turning purple.

  I shrug. Fair enough. I don’t want to see my kid brother naked, either. I stalk out of my tent, Melody hot on my heels. She looks like she’s going to cry. A flash of silver catches my eye and I see James sitting on a tree stump in the clearing between my tent and Jack’s. He flicks his knife at the tree trunk in front of him. The hilt judders with the impact, the blade buried three inches into the wood. James stands, giving us a mock bow.

  “Ahh, don’t be sad, Miss Melody. Our Luca is a little ornery. It’ll pass inevitably, like all bouts of heady emotion do.” He looks straight at me when he says this. He’s undoubtedly referring to me and Ryka—our relationship. I don’t rise to the bait. James collects his knife and slides it into his belt.

  “James is right,” I tell Melody. “Luca hasn’t figured out how to handle being without his halo yet. The first few days are really hard.”

  “You never shouted,” she sulks.

  “I probably should have. Might have felt a little better.”

  Melody pulls a face, and I hear Luca storming off down to the river behind me. I don’t bother turning around. I just look at my feet, wondering when things got this complicated.

  “I’ll see you later, Kit,” Melody says. She casts a furtive look at James as she sidles past him into the trees. She clearly hasn’t forgiven him for bursting into Luca’s room with a dagger in his hand. Neither have I. I turn and go to make back into my tent, but he calls out.

  “Come sit with me for a moment, Kit. I want to talk to you.”

  I don’t want to talk to him. The last thing I want to do is talk to him. I pivot on my heel. “What about? Why are you even here, James?”

  “I’m waiting for Jack to return. We have plans to discuss.”

  “Jack and Ryka aren’t going to be back for hours. They’ve gone to hunt for supplies.”

  “Well, then you might as well keep me company while I wait. I promise, I’m much more fun to be around than your brother.”

  Debateable. I’d rather deal with a shouting Luca than a devious James. But still…there are a few things I want to know. I stalk across the clearing, setting my jaw.

  “Why did you leave us?” I snap.

  “Pardon me?” His faux confusion irritates the life out of me.

  “Why did you leave us? Back in the Sanctuary, when you were supposed to wait by the refinery for us to come back with my brother. We arranged to meet there but you and the others had already gone on ahead.”

  James blinks at me, like I’m the stupidest person in the world. “Callum dragged us to your friend Penny’s place and there were guards waiting for us. A whole house full of them. We had to fight our way out. We barely had time to collect the others before we had to run. Two truckloads of guards showed up and chased us back the way we came, all the way to the fence. We nearly didn’t make it out at all. If we’d have waited for you and your boyfriend, we’d all have been dead.” Anger sparks in his eyes, and my own self-righteous fury wanes. If he’s telling the truth, then there’s nothing else he could have done.

  “And Max?”

  “Penny and Callum got caught by the guards. Max wouldn’t leave his brother; he told us to go. He pulled a stupid stunt and managed to free Callum but got himself killed in the process. Basically, if we hadn’t been waylaid into going to get that ridiculous redhead, none of that would have happen
ed.”

  “So you’re saying it’s my fault?”

  James runs his tongue over his teeth. I’m a bad taste in his mouth. He turns and faces Jack’s tent, away from me. “If Penny’s father hadn’t beaten her half to death, she might not have told him we were coming. If she hadn’t convinced you not to get your halo fixed, you might not have left the Sanctuary. If Ryka hadn’t been out in the forest that day, if I hadn’t killed his father, if his mother hadn’t left and married your father…” He looks back at me over his shoulder. “I find that one particularly delicious, by the way…”

  Bastard.

  “The world is full of ifs, Kitty Cat. People placing blame. It doesn’t get anyone anywhere.” He paces the clearing, and the sound of my brother howling reaches us. James actually smiles at that. “Water’s cold,” he tells me.

  I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to James, so I sit down and rest my head on my bent knees, looking out into the forest. I’m so angry over his perceived lack of care for Max, over his abandonment, over him cutting my hair, killing Ryka’s father, that I can’t even entertain the thought that he isn’t as culpable as I first made him out to be in my head. This is a very conflicting state to be in. He still killed Matthew. I cling to that.

  “You can try and make yourself look as innocent as you like, James, but you and I both know the truth.”

  He rests his weight on one foot, angling his body down on one side. He plucks a few stalks of the long grass and twists them over in his hands. “Which is what, Kit? What is it you think you know?”

  “That you want to run this place. That you’ll do anything, kill anyone who stands in your way, just to make that happen.”

  James doesn’t look at me. He frowns, staring down at the twisted-up grass in his hands. “You really do have no idea. You really have no idea at all.” He smiles at me briefly, one of those I know so much more than you ever will smiles. “I think perhaps I’ll go after all. Tell Jack I was here, would you, kitty cat?”

  My brother comes to find me later in the day, an abashed-looking Melody in tow. The girl is two years his senior but she’s following him around like a lost puppy. I don’t think Luca even realises that he has attracted the attentions of a beautiful girl yet. Other feelings, other emotions, have taken precedence.

  I’m at August’s forge, watching the old smith work, when the two of them make their entrance. Luca’s face is stormy. He’s walking just fine, too, which makes me prickle at how stupid he was being earlier. He’s lost some weight since his injury, but that’s something he can regain with time.

  “Weren’t you supposed to be back hours ago?” he mumbles, coming to sit beside me on the long table where I’ve been perched for half the day. August looks over my brother—this is the first time he’s seen him—and gives me a warm smile. The smith knows what it means to me to have Luca here. Luca dips his head, avoiding August’s eyes. The older man doesn’t say anything, just tucks his long hair behind his ears and carries on with his work. That’s why I love coming here: August knows exactly what to do to make you feel at ease.

  Melody shuffles closer, like she’s nervous to be around Luca now that I’m present. Like I’m going to tell her to leave or something. I have no idea why she would think I wouldn’t want her near him. Luca seems to tolerate her presence and shouts at her thirty percent less than anyone else, so I can only imagine that he doesn’t mind having her with him all the time, either. I know what he’s going through, but no two people are the same. Everybody’s brand of pain is different, no matter if the cause is the same, and I can’t pretend to know what’s best for him right now. I don’t even know what’s best for me. I shoot Melody a smile, and she visibly relaxes.

  “There’s a bonfire later. A few of us are meeting up. Do you think…do you think you and Luke might come?”

  Luke? Hmm. I look at my brother who is still staring at his boots, swinging his feet. He’s not even paying attention. A glossed-over look shields his eyes, and I can tell that he’s somewhere far away. I can almost hear the roar of the Colosseum crowds echoing in his ears. “I don’t know, Melody. I guess it depends whether Jack needs me for anything. And I have to find Ryka later.” There are a handful of other reasons why going to the bonfire tonight just won’t be the same. Olivia, Max, Callum—all of them are missing, some more permanently than others, and their absence won’t be hidden amongst a sea of strangers.

  Melody chews on her bottom lip. “Okay, well maybe I’ll see you later.”

  Luca looks up, makes eye contact with her before she turns and leaves, but nothing passes over his face. August stops hammering the glowing length of metal in his tongs to tip his head goodbye to Melody. His eyes fix on Luca.

  “Luca? Could you help me a minute?”

  My brother looks shyly up at August, whose blackened front tooth is on show for the first time today as he smiles softly at him. Luca shrugs. “What…what kind of help?”

  “I’m only halfway through turning this metal. I need to fold it exactly two hundred more times to make the steel strong. Do you think you could take over for a while?” He holds his hammer out to Luca, who eyes it cautiously. The sullen frown on his face eases a little. He looks at me, gauging whether it’s okay.

  “Might be fun,” I tell him. It really might. I’m kind of fascinated by the whole process of weapon making. I’ve learned enough from watching August—how to refine the ore, smelt everything down, fold the metal, slake it, fold it…the process, even just watching it, is very soothing. Ritualistic. I like that.

  Luca boosts down from the table and takes the hammer from August handle first. He eyes the glowing amber end of the steel resting on the heavy iron block and then looks at August.

  “Here.” August hands him the tongs so he can hold the length of metal down. He holds the hammer in Luca’s hand lower down the handle and raises it, showing him the motion. “Like this. Strike it evenly, tap it to get the rhythm.”

  I watch Luca do as August demonstrated and my throat constricts. It hasn’t occurred to me before, but Luca has never done anything that wasn’t related to the matches. Hasn’t learned anything that wouldn’t be directly applicable to helping him win on the arena floor. I guess I haven’t either. We were taught math so that we could monitor the betting screens and instantly calculate how far behind or ahead House Kitsch was. We learned to read for the same purpose. Luca’s life has been five thousand, seven hundred and fourteen days of preparing, learning how to kill and actually killing people. Yes, right now he’s creating a weapon, but the reason August is teaching him isn’t so that he can use the knowledge to kill. It’s simply to create something, instead of destroying it.

  Luca finds a rhythm and loses himself in the work. August stands back, corded, filthy black arms folded across his chest. He seems to know what’s coming, even though it takes me by surprise. Rage bubbles up from Luca, growing each time he hefts the hammer above his head and swings it down, striking with as much force as he can muster. He is silent at first, but with each strike his composure loosens, and he cries out. He has no words, just furious shouts. I can understand that. What would he say, after all? Who would he direct his angry words to? Our father for giving us the gift of life, only to force us to take it from others? To the Sanctuary, for making us puppets and corralling us into that Colosseum, making us small, worthless, our lives and our deaths nothing more than public entertainment?

  August pre-empts the moment when Luca’s rage abandons him, and he catches up the hammer as it falls from my brother’s hand. Luca sags to the floor, his face contorted in pain. I rush to him, stunned, not sure what to do. A pained sob rips out of him, and I sink to my knees, crushing him to me. When I first arrived in Freetown, I didn’t want to touch other people. I didn’t want other people to touch me, and I certainly didn’t want to be held. My brother isn’t me, though. He clings to me and sobs into my shirt, his hands hooked under my arms and over my shoulders, like he’s afraid I’m going to leave him.

  �
��I can’t…I can’t…” he sobs, over and over. My eyes burn like I’ve been hit with a shot of the Haze.

  “It’s okay. I’ve got you, Luca. I’ve got you. I won’t leave you. This will get better; it’ll all get better, I promise.” I rock him back and forth, stroking my hand through his hair. At that moment Ryka enters the tent, blond hair neatly tied back, brown eyes warmed, half smiling—a smile that melts away when he sees me and my brother on the ground. I give him a terrified look, eyes wide. What the hell is this?

  “Hey,” Ryka says softly. He comes and sits with me, folding his legs up beneath him. August places a hand on my arm and smiles gently, which is reassuring. He looks at me like I’m doing the right thing—good news, since I don’t have a clue how to handle this. Luca’s breathing quickens until his body is trembling in my arms.

  “I can’t…I can’t breathe…” he stammers.

  “Shhh. Shhh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.” My own heart starts to pound. I know my eyes are pleading when I turn to Ryka. “I don’t know what to do,” I mouth to him. I hold Luke tighter, but he tips his head back, gasping for air.

  “Come on, Luca,” Ryka says. He leans forward and unhooks my brother’s hands from my shoulders. Luke’s eyes are wild, too much white on show, and his face is shockingly pale. Ryka sits up straight and turns Luke to face him.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” he repeats softly. “Here, sit like this.” He demonstrates leaning forward and tipping his head forward in between his knees, but Luke’s not seeing him. He’s lost to whatever panic has gripped hold of him.

  “Luke, sit up straight. Here.” I help him to do it. I shift my body around him so he’s sitting in between my legs, his back pressed against my chest. Then I bend his legs and lean him forward, stroking my hand up and down his back, shhhing him. Ryka nods. He reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it tight. He takes Luke’s hand in his other one. My brother grasps hold until his knuckles turn white, but Ryka doesn’t seem to mind.