black tiger (Black Tiger Series Book 1)

by Sara Baysinger

  Minutes tick by. They keep growing in number like swarming bees. One. Then two. Then thirty, then four hundred, and I lose count until it seems like an eternity has passed.

  But then something happens, and it happens so fast it takes me a moment to process it because I’m half asleep.

  Sirens. Sirens are blaring all around us, piercing my eardrums and shattering my thoughts into five-million pieces. I cover my ears and look at Judah, as if to find answers there, but he looks as clueless as me. Water sprinkles from the ceiling into our cells, the cold water soaking into my hair and clothes.

  “Fire,” Judah says. “Those are fire alarms.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  And my lungs collapse. Because we’re underground. There’s only one way out of here. The electric shields have us confined. How hard it would be just to leap through them? How bad will they electrocute me? I reach toward them to test the barrier when Judah shouts, “No!”

  I freeze and look at him.

  “Electricity and water,” he says, wide-eyed. “Not a good mix.”

  Of course.

  “Good thing we’re surrounded by steel and concrete,” I say. “A fire can’t get through those.”

  “No, but smoke can seep through the cracks of the doorway.”

  I chew my lips. “This is a big dungeon. The fire could be on the other side of the prison for all we know.” I shrug. “They’ll get the fire out before it reaches us.”

  “Why does it matter?” Judah wipes water from his face and sits back down, resigned, his wet hair sticking to his forehead. “We’re going to die, anyway.”

  The wailing sirens make it hard to think, and I keep looking at the door, looking for any sign of smoke of the fire. And I realize that I’m not really ready to die yet, and maybe I would like just one more day, please. One more day to think through all my memories and my mistakes, and one more day to wait for Forest to get me out of here.

  And then the door bursts open.

  Through the haze of spraying water, I can see a figure dressed in a black cloak bolt to the panel. Has to be a Defender, by the way the person knows exactly the code to punch in. Two more seconds and the barriers lift.

  The figure seems to look right at me, but I can’t see the face clearly in the dim light and spraying water. “Follow me,” a male voice shouts. “Quick!”

  My heart leaps with a surge of hope, and I stand up and bolt out of my cell. He grabs my arm, then practically drags me out of the room. Why choose to grab me and not someone else? Maybe because I’m small and might lag behind. And then I wonder why the Defenders are so concerned about rescuing us if we’re going to die anyway, but maybe it’s to avoid cleaning all the dead bodies that would be leftover. My dead body. Judah’s dead body.

  The Defender’s fingers bite into my arm. “Hurry,” he shouts, obviously annoyed. I reach back and grab Judah’s hand, careful not to lose him in the darkness of the halls. The Defender leads us through the maze of halls until we arrive at a small door that says “Emergency Exit” in big bold letters, and it spits us out on the street.

  It’s night, but the light of the street lamps floods the road. Defenders and pedestrians are crowded on the sidewalk. Alarms blare in the distance, then red flashing lights on a truck appear down the street.

  “Come on!” The Defender releases me, then gestures for me to follow. Wait, what? If he’s a Defender, then wouldn’t he just hold us captive here until the fire goes out?

  “Come on, Ember.” Judah takes my shoulders and gently guides me behind our rescuer. “This is an escape. We’re escaping.”

  Oh. Oh. This guy came here to help us escape. Has he been sent by Forest? Of course. Of course he has. Forest promised to help me. This is him helping me. I pick up my pace and follow our rescuer and Judah around the corner. I look behind to make sure no guards are following, and see Ash and a few other prisoners behind me. They escaped too. Good. We sprint down the street, darting left, right, left, right, trying to lose anyone who might be tracking us. It’s hard to keep up; our hero is a fast runner, but when I look back, only Ash and another runaway have been able to stay on our heels.

  The sound of my own breathing fills the air around me, and I match my steps to the rhythm. Inhale. Exhale. Replenish bad air for good.

  Everything might actually be okay.

  But then another sound fills the air. A louder one than the fire alarm or fire truck. A blaring siren that could be heard for miles around. It stops blaring just long enough for an automated voice to say, “Prisoners are on the run. Citizens are encouraged to go indoors. Prisoners are on the run. Citizens are encouraged to go indoors.” Then the siren blares again and it’s loud and deafening and makes my heart want to pound out of my chest.

  I don’t know how much longer I can keep up my pace, but the promise of life versus death keeps my feet moving. Because if I don’t keep moving, I’m going to die. If I don’t keep running, I’ll be captured. Rain’s mocking gray eyes flash through my mind, and I remember what he said: You’re going to die tomorrow. A wave of renewed adrenaline pulses through my veins. I’ve never wanted to prove anyone wrong more than I do at this very moment.

  Suddenly, our leader trips and stumbles onto the concrete, rolling several times. He holds his knee to his chest and groans. In the brief instant, I catch a glimpse of his lower waist where his shirt has been shoved up. I notice a tattoo, a black symbol resembling the letter t. I kneel beside him, but he shoves me away, careful to keep his face turned.

  “Go! Get out of here! Keep heading north.”

  I don’t even know where north is. I feel Judah’s hand clamp down on my shoulder. “Come on, Ember.”

  “B-but we’ll get caught! We don’t know where we’re going.”

  “I do.” Judah offers a reassuring squeeze. “Follow me.”

  I glance at our leader. Our hero. Our savior. I don’t want to leave him. He’s the reason we escaped. And if he’s caught—

  “Get outta here! I’ll be fine.”

  I nod and quickly stand, then follow Judah down the street. The sirens of police cars wail down the street, coming closer and closer.

  “To the shadows!” Judah shouts.

  I bolt behind him to the sidewalk, glancing back to find the other two still following. And behind them, something else. Something big and fast. Something that blends in to the dark cloak of night. I squint to get a better look, but a loud roar makes my brain shudder. Chills flesh out across my skin, and I nearly stumble into the wall, because I suddenly can’t take my eyes off the black tiger sauntering straight toward us. It leaps into the air and pummels the runaway closest to him to the ground, then begins tearing into the flesh.

  And I. Can’t. Move.

  “Run!” Judah says.

  Right. Run. I whirl around and my feet begin slamming into the pavement. I try to catch up with Judah. Forget my exhaustion. Forget the pain in my lungs or the stabbing in my side or the way my legs feel like jelly. Forget everything but the will to survive.

  We take another turn when I hear a scream. Ash. Oh, Ash. Don’t look back, don’t look back, just keep moving forward.

  We bolt around another corner. When I finally dare to look back, we have no more followers. Well, except two black tigers that are racing faster than lightning. A loud roar sounds in front of us, and I slam into Judah’s brick back.

  “Why are you stop—”

  “We’re surrounded,” he says.

  And I stop. I look past him at the tiger blocking our path. One tiger in front of us, two tigers behind, and tall buildings on either side.

  We’re trapped.

  The tigers slow to a stop, shoulders hunched, teeth bared, eyes glittering in the moonlight like glowing bullets. And then another roar, and the tiger in front leaps into the air—it leaps into the air and he lands right on Judah—and Judah falls to the ground—and the tiger is on top of him. The tiger is on top of him. Pinning him to the ground. And Judah tries to shove the tiger off, but it’s heavy and
big and strong and it sinks its teeth into Judah’s shoulder, and there’s blood blood blood oozing out of his skin.

  And horror seizes me by the throat, rips across my lungs, and clamors out of my mouth. “STOP!”

  The tiger lifts its head, looks right at me with golden eyes, and growls, revealing long fangs stained with Judah’s blood. And I can’t think can’t think can’t think—all I can think about is Judah needing help, and I stumble to his side. I don’t know what, exactly, I plan on doing when I reach Judah—when I reach the black tiger on top of him—but I don’t have time to plan as I race toward the massive black beast and scream, “GET OFF OF HIM!”

  To my utter astonishment, the black tiger backs down. He lays his ears flat back, but he backs down, shoulders hunched, eyes glaring. And it’s Leaf and the bully all over again. It’s me rushing between the instigator and the victim. And it’s the instigator listening to me. But someone must be controlling the black tiger. Someone must have a remote that shocks the black tiger from a distance, and they must be making it back down, because they want us to die on the Rebels Circle, not by the black tigers.

  I kneel beside Judah. By the light of the street lamp, I can see his left arm hanging limply by his side, twisted at an unnatural angle. Blood soaks through his shirt at his abdomen. Deep gashes bleed right at his throat. In one leap, the black tiger has practically mauled him.

  And then I look at his shoulder, his chest now soaked in blood. The place where the tiger bit him. I rip his shirt a little wider and gasp because the bite marks sank through skin and muscle and—oh. Oh no. It’s like the black tiger knew exactly where Judah’s heart was. Like it was trained to rip someone’s heart out with its fangs. Because the teeth marks are deep deep deep into Judah’s chest, right above his heart.

  Sirens wail down the street. Then red and white flashing lights. A bright spotlight zeros in on me and Judah, but no one exits the vehicle. No one rushes into the street to arrest us or shoot us or, heaven forbid, help us, and then I see why. Because the tigers are still here. They’re surrounding us, pacing in a slow, agonizing circle. The Defenders aren’t leaving their vehicles, because maybe they actually do want the tigers to kill us off.

  So this is it. This is how we’re going to die. By the teeth of black tigers. Just like all the other criminals. My stomach twists and turns. I wait in sickening anticipation for the tigers to attack us, but they just keep walking around us, like vultures prowling around a dying carcass.

  “Keep…talking to them,” Judah says in a choked voice.

  I look down at him. “What?”

  “Talk to…the shoddy…tigers.” His voice chokes off in a strangled cough. “Tell them…to leave.”

  Is he delirious? Officially lost his mind? Lost too much blood already?

  “Do…it.”

  I stare at the black tigers. “Go! Get out of here!”

  And they do. They back down. They turn around. They leap down the street toward the Defender vehicle. And I’m not sure exactly what just happened, but when I return my attention to Judah, I notice the gashes on his throat pumping out blood. He coughs again, and this time there’s blood in his cough. The shock of so much blood dazes me, it makes me dizzy and sick and terrified, and I cover his chest wound with my hand, wishing I could somehow stop all the blasted bleeding.

  “Ember,” Judah says through gritted teeth. “You didn’t tell me y-you were…p-p—” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, then coughs again.

  “Don’t talk,” I say. “You’re making it worse.”

  He covers my hands with his, but shakes his head, pins me with those eyes full of anguish and pain. “You’ve got that…shoddy…Patrician’s blood.” He spits the word out, his eyes fluttering, his chest heaving.

  I don’t know what angers me more, the fact that he’s dying or the fact that, with his last breaths, he’s accusing me of being a Patrician. What did I ever do to make him call me that?

  “Stay with me, Judah.” I look at the red and white lights, now blurred from my tears. “Help,” I shout, my voice breaking. “Someone help him!”

  But when I look down at Judah, it’s too late. His eyes are open, unfocused. He’s not—he’s not wheezing anymore. I feel for a pulse, then jerk back. There is no pulse. Judah’s not a quitter. He can’t—he can’t just die. He can’t.

  “Judah!” I scream. I grip his shoulder and shake him, try to shake his spirit back into his body. “JUDAH!”

  He stares blankly at the sky like he’s looking at the stars, like he’s looking at the moon to save him, like he’s sort of hoping he can find help from the universe. But the universe is silent. The universe looks at our tiny pathetic planet in pity, tells us there are bigger things than our puny little lives to worry about, and because of that, Judah’s dead. He’s dead. He’s gone.

  I cover my mouth. It’s Leaf’s death all over again and why why why do all the people I love have to die?

  My hope deflates. All adrenaline seeps from the marrow of my bones. I just want to disappear. I want all these problems to disappear for just a minute. I just need a short break from reality because this…this is too much.

  The prison siren stops.

  The vehicle sirens stop.

  The Defenders leap out of their vehicle, and I brace myself for bullets. I grit my teeth against the blinding pain that’s about to consume me. Hands grip my shoulders and force me to my feet. No gunshots ring out. No bullets pierce my skin. Instead, an electroband is snapped around my wrist, and I’m shoved into the jeep, the door slamming in my face.

  I look out the window and watch as Judah’s body is dragged away into another vehicle. All I can do is stare blankly at the events unfolding before me. Because I’m helpless and useless and weak and soon. Soon I’ll join Judah and Leaf in the afterlife, and we can laugh with the universe, and we can talk about our deaths like our lives were minuscule little things that really never had a place in the universe to begin with.

  The jeep pulls forward, and I stare numbly out the front window. Why won’t they just end my life quickly? Oh, yeah. Because they like to make rebels suffer.

  The jeep rolls up to the glass prison. No fire trucks now. No sirens. It’s almost like there was no fire. Captain Mcallister appears and leads me back into the prison, and I get the dreaded sense of déjà vu and despair, and I gasp in my last few breaths of fresh air before I’m locked in the stagnant pit again.

  Instead of leading me to the dungeon doors—the dreaded stairway—he takes me down another hall to the right and leads me into the same room where I met with Forest. The room with wooden floors and nice leather couches and a warm fire place. But there’s no fire now.

  “Mcallister…” I turn to face him, my body still trembling with the shock and grief and fear. “What’s going on?”

  “You made quite the impression tonight,” he says, walking back toward the door. In the briefest instant his black eyes meet mine, I think I catch a glimpse of pity. “You’ll wait here until they decide what to do with you.”

  Until they decide? Didn’t they already decide?

  “What—what are they going to do with Judah?”

  But Mcallister is already striding out the door, closing it firmly behind him.

  I blink. And the picture of Judah’s fractured body, mangled and torn by the black tigers, flashes through my mind. And this grief and regret and fear of tomorrow is painful, so incredibly painful, I can’t get rid of it, and I just want to reach inside my chest and rip my heart out so I don’t have to feel anything.

  I sink into the couch, bury my head in my hands, and try not to go completely insane.

  PART II

  the golden city

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  I shouldn’t be alive.

  But I am.

  I’ve been locked in this room all day. Pacing. Staring at my fingers, still caked with Judah’s blood. And wondering what sort of painful death they have stored up for me. I mean, if rebels get burned to death, how do
rebels who rebel in prison get killed? Double rebellion has to have its consequences.

  A little while ago, a maid came in and started a fire. I can only guess that means someone important is coming. I sit on the floor by the fireplace and pull my knees to my chin. I stare at the dying embers and allow Mom’s words to come back to me: The embers still remain, tiny specks of dead wood and cinders that have the capacity to start a fire large enough to burn down an entire city.

  The embers still remain…

  The embers still remain…

  The embers still remain…

  The sound of the door clicking brings my head up. Forest Turner steps in. My shoulders relax, then tense again. What’s he doing here?

  He takes off his fedora and places it on the back of the chair, then strides toward me, pulls me to my feet, and crushes me to his chest.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” he says in a husky voice.

  I melt against him. I bury my face in his chest. And I weep. I don’t know how long he holds me, combs his fingers through my hair, whispers words of comfort into my ear. When I’m spent from crying, I pull away, take the handkerchief Forest offers, and wipe the shame off my face.

  “Thank you,” I say. “For s-saving me.”

  His brows furrow. “Saving you?”

  “Yes.” I release a shuddering breath.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “That guy you sent in. To let us out. I thought he was a Defender, but he led us down the street, away from the prison. He was helping us escape. You did send him, right?”

  Confusion weaves in and out of his eyes. “No, Ember. I didn’t send anyone. I was going to meet with Titus. I was going to get you out of here legally. Not by going against the law. Not by letting a bunch of criminals out in the process.” He presses his lips together in thought. “Tell me. What did this person look like?”

  He didn’t send my rescuer? Now I’m really confused.

  “Ember?”

  “I couldn’t see his face. He was cloaked and kept his face hidden from me.” Now I understand why.