Radicals (Blood & Fire)

by Frankie Rose

  “Where did you get that?”

  She arches an eyebrow. The look says it all: None of your damn business. “Cai gave it to me.”

  “You’re not ready for knives.”

  “I’ve been getting some training from my brother while you’re out doing…” her eyes skim over Ryka, “other things.” I want to slap her so hard her ears ring for a week, but I don’t. Instead I stare down at the knives in her belt.

  “Okay. If Caius thinks you’re ready, then you’re ready.”

  Penny is about as useless as I am at hiding her emotions. The shock that plays over her face is hard to miss. “Oh, well, wonderful. I’m so glad I have your approval.” She pushes past me and Ryka, and both of us watch the auburn waves in her long hair bounce as she walks away.

  “It takes real effort to be that mad all the time,” Ryka muses.

  “Yeah, I don’t know about that. Penny seems to have perfected a constant, unparalleled level of antagonism. She makes it look pretty effortless.”

  “Trust me. She works on it.” Ryka scuffs his boot against the peeling cream paint on the bottom of the wall in front of us. He cracks his knuckles one by one, refusing to meet my eye. “Kit, there’s something I need to tell you…uh…I need to talk to you about. Do you have a minute?”

  My body’s response to these words is a primal one; I break out in a cold sweat. This reaction is meant to prepare me to fight or run for my life, cooling my body so I don’t overheat. This is a neat trick in a life and death situation, however this isn’t a life and death situation. It only feels like it is.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He gives me an awkward smile. My insides clench at the small quirk he forms with his mouth, and my body moves on to feeling sick. This is not good. “I wanted to let you know that…” He shrugs. “Well, that I spoke to Jack again.”

  “What? When?”

  “This morning. I keep meaning to find you but you’re always training or teaching, so…”

  Am I meant to respond to that? Those two activities are both things he pushed me toward. If he wants me to feel bad about doing them, then we’re going to have problems. Besides, hitting Caius is currently the only thing that makes me feel normal. Ryka shifts uncomfortably.

  “I’m leaving tomorrow. In the morning.”

  It feels like I’ve just taken a solid punch to the stomach. “Really? Where? Why?” One word questions are all I can manage. He rubs his fingers across his jaw, and his stubble makes a scratchy sound against his skin.

  “Back to Freetown. We have to move more people. People who are less inclined to leave their homes.”

  I can understand that. Freetown has been established for a long time. Until I came along, they were doing just fine. I can see how the majority of the population would be reluctant to then follow me to a run-down city where everyday survival is uncomfortable to say the least.

  “Why you, though? Why not James?”

  “They don’t need to see James right now. They need to see me. I’m supposed to be the one protecting them remember? The priestesses have decreed it; the people are supposed to follow where I advise them to go.”

  The idea of that is still so strange. Ryka, in charge of the safety of twenty thousand people. It’s probably a lot less than twenty thousand people now since Lockdown’s attack, but still. That’s an awful lot of people hanging on the every word of an eighteen-year-old fighter. Ryka pushes his sleeves up, displaying the tattoos on his arms. I glance at them, trying not to think too much about touching them. About touching him in general.

  “Kit, I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone for. It could take two days to clear this up. It could take a week. I just didn’t want to leave without saying—”

  I hold up my hand. Oh, Gods, this is what I’ve been dreading. He’s going to be noble and give me his blessing to be with Caius. I contemplate slapping his face hard enough to knock some sense into him. Ryka exhales sharply, reaching up to take the hand I cut him off with. He threads his fingers through mine, which is just about the last thing I expected him to do.

  “Just let me finish,” he says softly. “I know I told you that I wanted you to get to know Caius. To see if you really want to be with him instead of me. I’ve been thinking about that, and that was really stupid.”

  My mouth falls open. I can’t be hearing him right, surely? He did not just admit that he was wrong. “Jack kind of made me see sense. He knew something was up, eventually got it out of me. He said, ‘you don’t invite another man into your home to eat off your chinaware when the table’s only set for two.’”

  I scrunch up my face. “What does that mean?”

  Ryka gives me a shaky laugh and his grip tightens around my hand. “I think he means that I shouldn’t be giving another guy a chance with you. That if I let Caius have you, then I’m giving away something precious.”

  “Your dinner?”

  Ryka sucks his bottom lip into his mouth for a second, before saying, “My home. I know that’s what you are for me. I was stupid to even risk that for a moment. He can’t have you, Kit.”

  The body responds to relief in much the same way it responds to a threat: with more sweating. My anxiety levels have peaked and troughed so badly over the last few seconds that I don’t know whether I’m coming or going. Ryka remains frozen as I process the madness ensuing inside my head. His expression looks carefully constructed, tense, as he waits. I see his uncertainty bloom with each passing second. His shoulders sag a little. “Oh. I’m too late, aren’t I?”

  I take a step forward so there’s no space between us. I don’t say anything. I just turn my head and lean into him, resting my cheek on his chest, directly over the tattoo the priestesses gave him. I close my eyes and let go of the breath I’ve been holding for what feels like forever. The breath I’ve been holding since Caius came back. Ryka is rigid for a moment. We stand like that until he realises I’m not going anywhere, and then he wraps his arms around me and holds me so close I think he’s going to re-break some ribs for me.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I freaked out,” he whispers into my hair. “I won’t do it again, I swear.”

  There are a million things I could say to him right now. I could tell him how much it hurt to be dropped so quickly at the first sign of complications. I could tell him how angry I was that he made promises to both me and my brother and then broke them. I know from the pain in his eyes that he already knows what he did, though. Instead, I tell him something I wanted to tell him days ago.

  “I love you.” I say it into his shirt because I’m a coward. He pulls in a breath that feels like it will never end. That feels like his chest will keep filling and filling until either one or both of us explodes from the pressure. He buries his face into my hair and fists my shirt behind me, his whole body tense like stone. When he eventually pulls back, he reaches up and gently brushes the hair out of my eyes.

  “I don’t deserve that. I know I don’t. But I’m so happy right now, Kit.”

  I press my forehead against his and grab hold of his head with both hands. “Just let me do it, okay? Just let me love you. And you love me. Don’t you dare leave me alone again.” If he can do this, if we can do it together, then this thing between us will be really simple. Better than that, it will be amazing. Ryka laughs softly, closing his eyes.

  “Okay, Kit, I promise you. I promise I won’t ever leave you again.”

  ******

  Ryka is gone in the morning. His promise was more metaphorical than literal, though, and I know he will be back soon. I eat breakfast, finally able to stomach more than two mouthfuls, and then go to training with Caius just like we arranged. I almost walk straight back out the door two minutes after I arrive; my training partner is in a terrible mood.

  “You’re late,” he tells me, as he flings a knife end over end into the target marker at the end of the room. The chipped wooden board that bears the crude outline of a person splinters with the impact, splitting straight into two. “I hav
e places I could be, you know. I could certainly be training with people who show up on time, that’s for sure.”

  “You mean like your sister?”

  Caius marches to the spot where the target marker stood only a couple of seconds ago and kicks through the shattered wood until he finds his knife. He picks it up and points it at me.

  “Don’t give me grief about her, Kit. She’s driving me crazy.”

  “She’s driving everyone crazy,” I say under my breath. Caius still hears me.

  “I’m well aware. There’s not a great deal I can do about it, though. She’s an adult. An adult who spent a number of years being severely beaten by her father and now wants payback. Who am I, or you, or anyone else to tell her she can’t have it?”

  “Payback’s one thing, Cai.” I tug my daggers out of my knife belt and throw them at him. He dodges the first and deflects the second easily with the handle of his blade. I smirk, contemplating my next move. “It’s changed who she is, though. Consumed her. Made her angry all the time.”

  Caius brings his arm up to catch me with a right hook. It’s a trick though, so I don’t react to his rapidly approaching clenched fist. I wait for the real blow, the body rip he thinks he’s going to land on me, and I block low just as he snaps his other fist out. His blow connects with the outside of the thigh I brought up to protect me, and he scowls. “She’s not angry all the time, Kit.”

  “She’s angry whenever I see her.”

  “That’s because she’s angry at you. Whenever you’re not around, she’s perfectly fine.”

  Huh. Well I guess I don’t blame her for that. I thrust out with my hand, trying to wrap my fingers around Caius’ wrist to pull him in close. Up close I might be able to get a decent hold on him, pull him to the ground. Caius just ducks away, shaking his head at me like he expects better. I am being sloppy, but I lost both knives on that first move and I’m distracted besides.

  I stand up straight, dropping out of my defensive stance. “Are you still mad at me?” Caius stops circling me, his arms falling limp at his sides. He looks tired.

  “Hell yes, I am.”

  That hurts me more than I care to admit. I scrub one hand over my face, wishing. Wishing for a lot of things that are never going to come true. I don’t know why I even bother. Caius shoves his knife back into his belt and stoops to collect the two weapons I threw a moment ago. He places them roughly hilt-first into my hands and goes to stand over at the window, his back to me.

  “I’m not stupid, okay? I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you again that this was never going to happen, but that doesn’t mean I can just forget how I feel in a matter of days. Losing that halo was the best thing that ever happened to me, but it’s also one of the worst. Because now I have no protection against how bad this feels.”

  “But you had months to work through your emotions, Cai.”

  “You think that matters? Kit, there’s no learning how to handle feelings like this. It just hurts. It hurts and it hurts, and it keeps on hurting until it doesn’t anymore. It’d be exactly the same thing if I’d never worn a halo a day in my life! Can we—” Caius shakes his head, leaning against the window frame. Over his shoulder, smoke stains on the horizon, rising slowly from the trees beyond the city boundaries. I can’t walk toward him. I’m too stunned by his words and the pain in his voice to do anything other than fight back tears. “Can we just do this another time? I really don’t think I have the energy for it right now.” He really does sound exhausted.

  I bring my hand to my mouth, pressing my fingers to my lips in an attempt to hold back the words from tumbling out of my mouth. I can’t be trusted to think straight right now, and whatever I say is liable to do more damage than good. I feel so terrible. I want to make this right this, but I have no idea how. I—

  “Kit?” Caius’ voice is a whisper, but it stops my thoughts dead in their tracks. My name sounds pained falling from his lips. “Kit, come here.”

  My cheeks flush. What the hell is he planning on doing? With his back to me I can’t read from his expression what he’s thinking, what he’s feeling. I can only go by how he sounds, and right now it’s hard to tell whether he sounds like he wants to kiss me or kill me. I creep forward, preparing myself for the worst. I reach his side but Caius doesn’t turn to look at me. His eyes are locked out of the window.

  “I’m so sorry, Cai. I don’t know what to do. Please, can you just—”

  “Shut up.” He reaches for me and physically turns my head so that I’m looking out the window, in the same direction he is staring.

  “You see that, right? I’m not imagining it?” he says softly.

  And I see it.

  My insides feel like they’re being turned inside out.

  How? How is this possible? A strangled gasp escapes my lips. Below us, in amongst the rust, dust and rubble, a splash of red stands out in a stark, bright contrast against all the grey. A pool of material, shifting, blowing in the breeze, fluttering around a shape—the shape of a body. A pale hand, a bloody foot. I’m back in the river, underwater, trapped and suffocating again. This isn’t real. Can’t be.

  “It’s a girl,” Caius whispers. But I already know who it is. I know even before the swathes of red material shift and I see the blonde hair.

  “MOVE!”

  I’m running.

  Falling.

  Maybe I’m falling.

  Boots ring out, startled shouts.

  “Get out of the way!”

  They aren’t moving quickly enough.

  Someone in my way.

  James.

  James.

  He grabs hold of me by the shoulders, but no…no, I have to get outside. Oh, Gods, please, please, please.

  Silver in my hands.

  Blood.

  Two round drops on concrete.

  I’m gone. I’m gone. I’m gone…

  I’m outside.

  “OLIVIA!”

  Hands covered with red material. It’s everywhere, can’t get her free.

  I turn her.

  She rolls.

  And her face.

  Her face…

  Her face.

  “Callum, get her up. Get her up right now!”

  Strong hands reach under my armpits and lift me from the ground, but I’m clinging to Olivia’s bloody, lifeless hand, and someone has to come and prise my fingers from hers. I can’t stop staring. She’s covered in blood, her skin so pale and stained with it. My stomach heaves and I don’t realise I’m being sick until Luke appears in my line of sight and scoops my hair out of my face.

  ‘”It’s okay,” he tells me. “It’s okay, she’s not dead.”

  No, not dead. I could feel the warmth in her hand, the faint pulse. But her face. It’s too much to bear. My whole body convulses as I wretch and my mouth fills with a sour, acid taste. The sound of bells grows louder and louder until eventually I hear another voice screaming out Olivia’s name.

  Melody.

  She collapses to the ground at Olivia’s feet, and I see Callum now holding her from behind, wrapping his arms around her body. She doesn’t even seem to notice. Her mouth is open, pulled down in horror and grief as she sobs violently. Her hand trembles as she reaches out just far enough to place her fingertips against Olivia’s blood-soaked toes.

  James comes into view. He looks more serious than ever, and a small line of blood marks his cheek. He carefully brushes Olivia’s bright blonde hair from her face as it floats on the breeze, and then looks her over, as though trying to work out how to touch her without causing more damage. He gingerly manages to work his hands underneath her limp body, and lifts her into his arms. Her head lolls against his shoulder as he turns his back on me and Melody and everyone else gathered outside, and then he walks with her into the Det.

  “Come on. Let’s get you inside, too,” Callum says. He places his hand on my shoulder but I can’t respond to him. I can’t peel my eyes from the brilliant crimson pool of blood that Olivia has left behind on
the ground. It’s not right. It’s not right that she’s lost that much blood. I want to collect it somehow, save it for her. Can I do that? I look up at Callum and see the ruined look on his face and it’s all I can do not to curl up right where I’m kneeling and cry.

  I’m on the verge of hysteria. I can feel it brewing, gaining momentum, the promise of a mighty storm that will never end. Caius is the one who quells that storm. He crouches down before me and slaps me so hard I fall onto my backside. The crying stops.

  “Come on, Kit. She needs you.” Caius offers me his hand and I just stare at it. Yes, Olivia needs me. It looks like she needed me a while back and I wasn’t there to protect her. I push myself up off the ground and stagger back inside the Det, past the wary faces of the people I’ve been training to fight over the past few weeks.

  ******

  They put Olivia in a room on green twelve. Maybe that’s as far as James could carry her before he needed to put her down. He’s ridiculously fit, though, so I doubt that is the case. There must be some other reason. Sunlight floods into the small room Ryka’s sister has been taken to, and bodies swarm around the open doorway, all trying to get a look inside. I want to scream at them. They’re vultures, craning their necks to get a glimpse at her fragile body. My throat is still burning from throwing up, however, so I don’t scream at them. I elbow past, and for once the crowd parts and they let me by in silence.

  Luke follows behind me, nervously shifting from foot to foot. Melody sobs quietly in a corner. James stands, staring at Olivia, surveying her from head to toe with concerned eyes. He reaches out to brush the matted blonde nimbus of hair from her face and pauses. His eyes are locked on his hands. They’re covered in blood. He wipes them absently on his pants.

  “Luke, go get Penny,” he says. Luke doesn’t argue. He’s probably glad to be out of the room. He never got to meet Olivia, and he’s probably struggling to deal with the amount of pain that’s polluting the air. It’s so thick I can hardly breathe. I pull out a dagger and take a step toward Liv’s still form.