The General didn’t dare relax. “I’m not under the illusion anymore I can stop you going where you want,” he began. “It’s pretty clear the sisters got your pilot friend out of my prison and you’ve just been humoring us by staying in your rooms. The question is what are we going to do about your plans for today? Will you walk with me back to the base?” Sable was motionless, giving nothing. The farthest buildings were shimmering at the edges. Berringer asked again, “Sable, will you give up this idea of flying out of here?” When she still gave no indication she might answer, he said, “You can nod an agreement,” but she shook her head no.
“I’m glad that’s your answer because I wasn’t going to believe anything else. And I’m not going to have you back in there confounding Remy with your whispering whatever-the-hell that was you did with the darkness, and damn it, Sable, you do realize it’s wrong?” Sable sunk a little lower. Berringer looked across the field taking in the morning light as it reached the corners of his vision. He thought briefly about snapping Sable’s neck while he had the chance. His fists were tight with the intended action, but he released the idea as an impulse that would destroy them all.
“It wasn’t right how you got there, but we’re going to do as Remy said and go get Lieutenant Fallon.”
Sable became tense, leveling her shoulders, showing an obstinate straight-backed refusal to have him along.
“You intend to keep that promise to Remy? You think you can bring back proof of Sierra’s involvement and not hurt anyone? You, Mad Sable, with sharp sticks in your hair?”
To keep from falling, Catherine placed a hand on Sable’s shoulder and leaned into her furious face. “Take the offer. It’s solid and you need him,” and before Berringer could correct her and say it wasn’t an offer, she added, “It’s the only option open to you now.”
Catherine watched the mental struggle play across Sable’s face. Coming to terms with having been beaten, Sable grabbed the belt and ogled at Catherine.
“She wants to speak.”
When he released the tension, he was surprised by her vehemence, “Seriously, General, what the fuck? You have no right to still be standing.”
“Technically,” Catherine’s lightheadedness added to her amusement, “neither of you were left standing. Just imagine if you worked together.”
~~~~~~
Catherine had hoped the two could work in concert, but before they could get in the air, several more conflicts wrapped them together. They fought like two siblings over Berringer’s phone until Sable broke it apart and ground the SIM card under her foot while the General tried to prevent her. Then she set her destruction on the military transponder, opening the shoulder bag of tools and electronics to rip it out of the dash despite the General’s protests. She hurled it from the side door over the wing, insisting she would not allow them to be tracked.
Their anonymity secured, Sable disrobed to leave, putting the Cloitare garments in a seat, but the General stood in the aisle with his hand out and his sights on the sticks in her hair.
After he’d snapped them in half and sent them out the door in the same path as the transponder, he ran his eyes over her jewelry looking for alterations. There was a wide bracelet on her right wrist she wouldn’t risk taking off for the scar, but on her left, in the center of a collection of bangles, the General saw filed edges and sharpened rims, and superfluous to the knit sweater was a braided belt dangling down her side from a loop at the hip. He held his hand out again, but she waited with a face of incomprehension until he confirmed it, “Give me the parts to the swinging blade.”
Fuming yet silent, she surrendered the separate pieces of the improvised weapon, but while she did, Berringer thought her gaze stayed a little too long on his sidearm. “Sable, understand now that would be a mistake.”
Having already trespassed all royal rights, he said, “To hell with it,” and patted her down for hidden weapons. Flung out of the plane to where Catherine stood, a sheathed knife joined the broken collection of what each considered unacceptable.
Finally, they looked to be in some sort of vexed agreement to take off. The last Catherine heard was Sable on a fresh phone from the bag saying, “Things have changed; I have company. Take the Pigeon someplace safe and I will find you.”
~~~~~~
The plane had two sets of controls and the General kept wanting to lift the yoke not to hear the pines brush the underside of the fuselage. Sable had taken them north above the clouds and then flown east over Alena and the old forests dusted in snow, through the cellular blackout, forever east until he had changed out three batteries and watched with trepidation as she descended into the tops of the trees to avoid radar. He’d been asking for hours where they were going and now he asked with dread, “Are you taking us into Sierra?”
“They are not stupid,” was how she agreed. “They are not very skilled on the ground, as we witnessed in the video, but they’re damn clever behind the scenes. They knew better than to strike a bear and then try to hide in Alena with your troops controlling all the routes of transport.”
The sun was setting when she handed control over to him, telling him, “Keep us low.” She swung in her seat to set a laptop on her knees. Fingerless gloves skittered over the keys. She instructed him to fly south and then showed him what she had tracked to a field at the edge of the woods. “My beloved Pigeon.”
“Fallon?”
She laughed. “No, a plane.”
“GPS.” He wasn’t impressed. “I thought you would find them with more magic.”
“And here it is just boring software and a chip.”
“You know I have to tell Remy why he can’t trust you?”
Sable felt it like a punch. The thought Remy would shun her again made her slump, and Berringer regretted saying it so early. She said, “No doubt it’s for the best.” Then trying for greater detachment, “The mothers have their own plans and I am the heart of it. Just like Remy wants to expand, so too does the Cloitare.” But she was too worried to be removed. “The clergy have been waiting more than just the four hundred years of this agreement for a chance to control the throne.” The General knew she was staring at him. “When I said they were in my head, you thought I was mad and now you think you understand, but your distrust isn’t enough.” She hated it was true. “You should have shot me that night before I ran away.”
Her desolate sadness filled the cabin. She swung back into her seat and he felt the controls push away from his hands until the trees brushed at the hull again.
“And it’s all too late now. If I died tonight,” she pushed the plane deeper into the limbs so they scrapped against the metal, “the mothers would twist it as the fault of the King and the public would hang him.” The General heard her breath deepen and looked to see her fighting back a strong emotion. “I have considered, as a way to avoid any confusion, gathering a crowd before the Basilica and running a sword through my chest,” and to accentuate it, the plane’s blades ripped through the branches.
Uncertain what she intended, the General pulled up on the yoke before him.
“But the outcome would be the same.” She shrugged and pushed the yoke harder down. “My every action can so easily be turned against Remy.”
Shredded greenery and snow shot past the side windows. He strained harder for elevation. “Sable, let me have the controls.”
“I should never have accepted the title of mother.” She moaned to have been so foolish. “If I ever try to publicly explain what side I’m on, they will drop me so fast to floor,” Sable shoved at the column to hear the trees screech again, “you’d know by the mangled wreck they make of me that I have been gentle with you.”
“I appreciate it. Now relax. Back off the controls.” Then hoping to divert her attention, “Show me the tracking program on this laptop again.”
But instead, she increased the power and pressed the rudder to direct them south east, laying heavy force into the yoke to take the plane into the trees while the General foug
ht to make it climb. “I hope you never know the emptiness of having no control whatsoever over your own life.”
Trying to reason with Crazy Sable while pulling against her tenacious downward thrust, he said, “I sympathize. It must be hard.”
“Harder than wrestling the controls out of your hands so we can land.” She pushed the rudder east along the line of the woods, leaning her weight into the yoke to keep the nose from tipping over. “One of us has to let go first, and with the force we’re applying, you’ll throw us into a stall and I’ll slam us into the ground. This was a strange time to start an exercise in trust, General.” Clear of the trees, Sable switched down the landing gear.
Ahead on a logging road was the cargo plane Berringer had seen in Fallon’s abduction. Sable worked the pedals to align the plane while they both kept excessive pressure on the controls.
“Damn it, Sable.” The General hooked his arm through the yoke to keep it up. With his free hand, he reduced the power and dropped the flaps.
“Don’t let go now.” Sable’s mood flipped to manic exhilaration. To counter the General, she put boots on the yoke, using the strength of her legs to force the nose toward the ground.
The road was coming fast, and Sable wasn’t relenting. The General wrapped both arms through the controls just to bring the plane level.
“Righteous hell, this is great,” she was laughing insanely while Berringer cursed, “You’re a goddamn monster.”
Their speed was dropping, bringing the plane to the ground with the blades about to tear through the road. Sable said, “This is dangerous. I think you should pull up.”
The General put a foot against the front panel to pull harder, bringing the nose over the horizon. “Give me some slack.”
The back wheels touched the road. “Oh, you want me to let go?”
“No!”
But she did. Throwing her hands in the air to signal an uncontested surrender, she dropped her feet and let the nose shoot into the darkening sky. Gravity held her hard against the seat so she couldn’t help them if she wanted.
Tearing down the road on the back tires, looking for all to see like they were doing a wheelie, the plane stalled. Sable was still laughing when the front wheel settled on the road. “Text-book landing, General, a perfectly timed stall. Catherine was right, I’m teaming up with you more often.”
~~~~~~
Enzo had many ideas of how the exchange might start, but Marlow stalking the road with General Bear in a hell of a row was not expected. Steam in the bitter evening air showed they were arguing over each other with neither listening. When they made it a quarter of the way to the Pigeon from where they’d landed, the General wrenched Marlow roughly to face him.
From the place they watched in the woods, Enzo cringed, telling Max, “She’s going to bust him upside the head.”
Fallon scoffed, so Max snarled, “What the fuck do you know about it?”
But the Bear told Marlow off, berating her with such booming emphasis, Max could nearly make out the sharpest words, and Marlow just took it, gloved hands never leaving her sides. Enzo frowned, “He must have something pretty damning over her.”
Fallon did the face again, the wide-eyed you people are clueless befuddlement that made Max want to hit him and not stop.
Looking both recalcitrant and chastened, Marlow set off for the Pigeon once more. The General kept tight beside her while scanning the woods they had flown out of, then back across the road to the field of sawn trunks scattered amid piles of snow-covered brush and rejected logs. Well beyond the clear cut and past the fields with replacement saplings, the setting sun obliterated the outline of the nearest town.
Nika crouched under the wing of the carrier plane and Marlow smiled wide to see her, but the General held his arm across her chest to stop her going forward. He was looking into the woods where Enzo and Max thought they were hidden with Fallon.
Enzo watched the two bantering back and forth until Marlow started to dodge past, then, like thunder without warning, the General commanded, “Lieutenant Fallon, stand up!”
“That man has you trained.” Max tried to kick the back of Fallon’s knees down, and the wooded area rustled with wild movement.
Marlow hung her head.
“Come here, son,” Berringer called.
But from the woods, “The girl first.”
Then Marlow, “Whoa, whoa, everyone just chill. And no,” she pointed at Nika who she feared had a gun behind her back, “before you do anything crazy, just wait.” She turned to face the General, speaking for several moments until he grabbed her by the throat and gave her a shake.
Nika was out from under the wing running into it, hearing Marlow insist, “I didn’t. I swear, I didn’t.” But then she did: she cast her voice to Nika and demanded, “Down.” Nika tripped into the dirty snow, pistol scuttling ahead, and Marlow rumbled, “Stay down,” then voice higher to reach the woods, “We’re cool. Everything is fine.”
“It’s not looking very cool from where I’m standing,” Enzo called. “Both girls get in the plane.”
The General’s hand had come to rest on Marlow’s shoulder while she insisted, “I didn’t. You’re just jumpy. It can’t be helped if what I say persuades. It did because it’s reasonable.” She gently ducked his grip and walked for Nika, saying for everyone’s benefit, “We’re not going to touch the gun.”
Marlow gathered up Nika, pulling her straight, holding her close, kissing her cheek, saying, “I love you. This was very brave.”
Standing in the road embracing her friend, the General again reconsidered what he thought of Sable. Always changing Sable. Dear enough for three people to risk their lives.
He was taking the gun from the road when he heard, “I never thanked you for that coffee,” but before he could answer, Sable spun the pilot around and walked her toward the side of the road, cautioning, “Let’s not antagonize him or he’ll offer you another.”
At the edge of the woods, she called, “It’s way too cold for you guys to be out there. Fallon is going to go with the General, and we’re going to talk in the Pigeon.”
The trees crashed with movement and Enzo’s voice reached her before they emerged, “You’re leaving with us.”
“No,” the denial caught in her throat, “but I will explain so you understand why.”
~~~~~~
The Pigeon, with its exposed ribs and grated metal floor, was freezing, but Sable was glad; none of them would find it odd she kept her gloves on. She ran her exposed fingertips over the surfaces, turning on a set of lights, then the electric heater that would only keep them a degree away from dying. She knocked at the empty space in a desk where her memory drives should have been, then opened a cabinet and ran her hand under sweaters to find a set of sticks. She pulled her hair up, sliding the sticks through her braids, remembering. Remembering more than what had happened in the Pigeon alone, remembering everything over the years that made her fiercely love the three people with her. And all this too was shattered. Denied. Sable was bitter, teetering on saying, To hell with it and powering into the sky to leave the General cursing himself for not knowing better.
She dropped onto a bench seat at the back, holding her head against the screaming that always shouted, But Remy. There was always Remy, and her every action kept taking them closer to the ball of destruction in the future that was blood and guts and Cloitare, and within it was her conviction the clergy would kill him. She had seen it: Remy missing, gone from the distance, the bond severed, the peace shattered, and the General demanding, Why? Why she had done something or why she hadn’t. Back when she could see, it would often change.
Enzo thought she rubbed her hands together because she was cold, but she was trying to wipe away the scars, return to a time before her mind had been broken, when she could see clearly, could step lightly to avoid certain chaos.
She said, “I have had the most shockingly bad year.”
Nika sat down beside her and tried to hug her, but Marlow
stiffened and slid down the bench. “I used to wonder why people cried. Now I’ve learned all about it and it really should be avoided. Seriously.” She held her hand up to stop Nika. “Tears are too awful and being here, with what you’ve all done, I’m about to lose it.”
Lighting a cigarette, Enzo placed it in her shaking hand while she said, “I need something stronger.”
“I’ve got a bag of sunshine.” He started cutting out synthetic anodyne on the glass screen of a tablet. “But I thought we would be celebrating.”
Marlow did a line and then passed it to Nika, half smiling as she said, “I’m wrecking all the best parties these days.”
~~~~~~
The Pigeon was quiet, the tablet was clear, and the four could almost think it was warm. The metal seats felt like plush cushions, and where Enzo leaned against the hull, it was deceptively soft. Nika had laid her head in Marlow’s lap, and Max had no idea he rested flat on metal grates.
“We might as well get down to it.” Sable kicked at Max with her boot. “Shall I assume you cracked my encryption?”
“Oh boy, did I.” But he didn’t open his eyes.
“What in holy motherly mindfucks?” Enzo leaned forward. “Are you working for the royals?”
Marlow inhaled slowly and sighed. “In a way, I suppose I am, but really,” she tried to show him pity because she was about to overturn his life, “it is so much more than that.”
Nika wanted to pat Marlow’s leg and say it was fine, it didn’t matter, but her hand fell to the floor. She could feel Marlow twirling her hair and figured she already knew they didn’t care, so Nika kept drifting away.
Sister Sable (The Mad Queen Book 1) Page 24
