Redemption (The Alexa Montgomery Saga)

by H. D. Gordon

  I nodded, turning back to Kayden, who was eyeing Arrol with distrust. “He’s right,” I said. “That’s where we need to go first, to convince Camillia to keep Nelly’s secret and let the people go on believing that I’m the Savior. It’s the only way that any of this is going to work.”

  Kayden looked a little reluctant about all of this, but he nodded and began pulling me back toward Silvia’s cabin. “Then let’s go,” he said. “We don’t want to give her a chance to spill the beans before we can stop her.”

  I picked up my pace, glancing back to give a parting wave to Arrol, who had sat down by the lake side to bathe in the sun. He blew me a kiss and laughed when I rolled my eyes. Kayden and I all but ran down the red path that led back to the cabin. When we got there, Tommy was standing outside, pacing back and forth and smoking a cigarette.

  Relief filled his face when he saw us. “Finally,” he said. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” His eyes flicked from Kayden to me, and widened. “Where’s Nelly?”

  “She’s safe,” I said, glancing around.

  Tommy’s voice raised a fraction in pitch. “Safe? What does that mean?”

  I grabbed Tommy by the shoulders to stop his manic pacing. It was starting to unnerve me. “She’s in the White World with the Seer,” I whispered. “He promised me he would keep her safe until this…whole thing is over.”

  I didn’t miss the relief that flooded over Tommy’s face, even though he tried to hide it. “I guess that’s good?”

  I nodded. “Good for her, yes. Now, what’s happened, Tommy? Why do you look like a goose just walked over your grave?”

  Tommy handed me the cigarette he was holding, and I took it gratefully. I breathed in the smoke deeply, taking pleasure in the vice. I felt like I deserved it. You couldn’t tell a soldier that he had to die for the country but couldn’t have a smoke if he wanted. And I wanted.

  Tommy reached into the pocket of his slacks and pulled out a cream-colored envelope. When he handed it to me, I looked up and raised an eyebrow. “Thanks, but it’s not my birthday.”

  “Alexa, just open it,” Tommy said, and by the tone of his voice I could tell that this was not good news I was holding in my hand. Tommy had never, ever snapped at me before.

  I looked at the envelope in my steady, scarred hand and flipped it over. A growl rumbled in my chest as my eyes settled on the King’s seal that had held it closed with scarlet wax. I pulled out the letter that was inside, and then cursed the heavens as I read the words on the creamy slip of paper tucked inside.

  Thomas,

  King William holds me prisoner and has informed me that I will be killed if you do not do exactly as follows. He offers us both immunity for your crimes if you come forward at once and tell him all that you know about the Sun Warrior, her Accursed sister, and their plans. Please, Son, I am praying you will make the right choice. You are the only hope left for either of us. Give King William what he desires, and whatever you do, don’t tell the Sun Warrior or her sister what you are up to. I am counting on you. My life depends on it.

  ~Thomas Caslon

  “It’s my father’s handwriting,” Tommy said, taking the letter back from me. “Alexa, he’s going to kill him. What am I supposed to do?”

  I gripped Tommy’s shoulders hard, forcing him to look at me. “No he’s not, Tommy,” I said, and my voice was the cold, flat voice of my Monster. “Not if I kill him first.”

  Alexa

  I stood on a platform in front of what seemed like hundreds of people, the night sky glittering black with speckles of sugar above. People had been wandering into the Outlands all day–Brockens, Searchers, Wolves. The first ones to arrive were the ones who had been in league with the resistance from the beginning, scouts and spies. They had managed to get word out to the three cities on the list that had yet to be “cleansed” of traitors by the King, and the people who had escaped were showing up by the dozens. I knew that some who tried to leave would never make it here, but a little hope spiraled in my heart to see some of them had. Some of them had, but nowhere near enough, and of those some, only a fraction of them were fighters.

  I felt very much like a toy soldier standing before them all, not at all equipped to lead an army. It seemed like everyone who had begun this journey was here with me tonight, except for a select few who had dropped out of the race already, lost to the cause. I couldn’t help but think of Jackson as I stood facing them all, how he was the only thing other than my sister that I had carried with me into this world, and now he was lost to it forever. I knew that Jackson had made the only decision he could. I understood that now better than I would have hoped for, and because of his sacrifice all of this had come to pass, but that did nothing to ease the devastating fire that burned so fiercely in my soul. So much had been lost, and so much more still lay ahead.

  But it is coming to an end soon, Warrior. The pain, the running, the fighting, the struggle, the burning. All of it. It is coming to an end.

  And it was. I could feel it. I could see it on the faces of everyone here. I realized for the first time that I had met a lot of people in the last month and a half, and a great deal of them I was fond of. Soraya and Catherine stood in the crowd, their faces alight with a sense of hope that I wished I could capture and borrow. Victoria and Simon, the Warrior whom Nelly had taken with her from Two Rivers, stood hand in hand. Patterson, Gavin–fierce Warriors that they were–stood stone-faced and ready to ride with me into the sunset. Tommy and Kayden. Malcolm and Olivia and her granddaughter, Akira. The man and his wife, whose names I couldn’t remember, that had directed me to Dangeon and told me how to breach the security when my Mother had been trapped there. One of the shopkeepers from Two Rivers who had given me free clothing on a day that seemed so long ago now, back when I had first stepped into this messed-up world.

  All of them, and so many more. Just staring at me, waiting for me to either explain myself or offer some brilliant plan of attack. Which one, I wasn’t sure. I could see from the looks on some of their faces, mostly the ones that I didn’t know personally, that the King’s accusations against me and my sister had had some effect. Like this wasn’t going to be difficult enough.

  Malcolm climbed up onto the small platform with me, nodded once, and turned to face the people. His voice, with its soft, short rhythms, made people want to listen, strain to listen even, as though the things that fell from his mouth were of the utmost importance. I had only spoken with him a few times, and did not know him well, but I could see how he made a good leader. I, on the other hand, disliked giving orders almost as much as I disliked taking them.

  “Friends,” Malcolm began, “we have all come to this place with a shared desire. We all wish to see the current leader of our world out of his office, and the people who have suffered under his rule free of their chains. We have a common need for freedom, and I believe that together, we can see this need met.”

  Someone in the crowd shouted then, just two words, but they made the skin on my back crawl and my shoulders tighten just the slightest bit with distaste.

  “Sun Warrior!” said the faceless voice.

  I clenched my teeth. I had a name, damn it. I really wished people would use it. I tilted my head back, searching for the person that the voice belonged to, and spotted a Brocken Vampire as big and tall as an old tree—if not as big as even the King’s smallest of Warriors—moving through the crowd toward the front, his eyes locked on my own.

  He reached the front and stood before me, level with my eyesight on account of the platform on which I stood. I raised my eyebrows, thinking of my Gladius, which was tucked into the back of my jeans, as always. “Brocken,” I said, returning his greeting and hoping that he disliked the title as much as I did mine.

  The Brocken crossed his meaty arms, regarding me with a little amusement behind his eyes. I knew instantly that he was thinking about my size, thinking that I was too small and petite to be such a fearsome Sun Warrior. “Is it true,” he said, “that you have a si
ster who is one of the Accursed?”

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “No,” I said. “I have a sister who is half Accursed.”

  At this murmurs and whispers ran through the crowd, and I found myself wishing that I had the pull string to an enormous bucket of freezing cold water hanging over their heads. Why bother to whisper when someone knows you are talking about them?

  Well, I’d say they were some pretty ungrateful sonsabitches, wouldn’t you, Warrior? Look at them all sneaking wary glances at you, at the silver on your arm, like a bunch of stupid humans. They have no idea what we have done, what we have lost to be here fighting this war that had never belonged to us. Yep, bunch of ungrateful SOB’s, if you ask me.

  “I didn’t ask you, and I’m starting to think that this war does belong to me. Maybe it always has.”

  Look who’s turning insightful.

  I opened my mouth and words came spilling out before I could stop my Monster from saying them. “Go on,” I said, my voice carrying over the buzz of the crowd. “If someone has something to say, say it. I’m right here. I’m all ears.”

  Silence fell over the people. I stood on my platform, eyes settling from face to face. Most of them looked down at their feet as my gaze swept over them, as cowed as humans. I certainly had my work cut out for me. I locked eyes with Camillia, who was standing at the front, knowing that if she was going to break the promise she’d given me and spill the beans about my sister, now would be the time. But I could see it from the look on her face that Camillia planned to do no such thing, and it didn’t surprise me. Camillia was one of the people whom my sister had “touched” as Tommy had become fond of saying, and that meant that her devotion to Nelly was complete. She had even looked a little relieved when I told her that Nelly was out of reach.

  However, I didn’t fail to notice that Silvia wasn’t present. She had not taken the news so lightly.

  When the burly Brocken who had challenged me the other day–Darvin, I think his name was—stepped forward, I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes like a pissed off preteen.

  “I got something to say,” Darvin said in his bellowing voice. No shit, I thought. “How can you expect us to trust you if your own sister is one of those demons?”

  My left eye twitched. “I couldn’t give a shit less if any of you trust me or not,” I said, because it couldn’t be closer to the truth. “You want to fight this war by yourselves, by all means, be my guests.”

  The other Brocken who had called out Sun Warrior a moment ago burst out into a deep, loud laugh. My eye twitched again, but this time my fingers itched, too. “You sure are a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” said the Brocken. “Hard to believe that your bark is as big as your bite.”

  This got a few nervous chuckles out of the crowd, but most of the spectators were still silent, apparently not such big fools as these two vampires. They knew instinctually that I was not someone who should be challenged. I felt a crooked smile tilt my lips. “Yes,” I said. “I get that a lot.” I nodded at the silver on my right arm. “I pretty sure all of these people said the same thing.”

  All eyes fell to the silver lilies burned into my skin. My smile grew wider still. I turned my back to the crowd, glad that the tank-top I was wearing had a low-cut back. I looked over my shoulder at where the silver markers snaked across my shoulders, down my spine. “And all of these, too,” I said.

  I turned back to the crowd and raised an eyebrow at the two big Brockens. “Would you like a demonstration?” I asked, hoping that one of them, hell, that both of them would take me up on the offer. There’s nothing quite like kicking the shit out of men four times your size. That’s power, and I was in desperate need of a release.

  Yes! Oh yes! Let’s do it, Warrior. Let’s do it. Let’s do it. Let’s do it!

  But both men averted their eyes now, Darvin mumbling under his breath, and the other one smiling a little sheepishly to himself. Perhaps they weren’t such big fools after all.

  Damn, so close.

  “Hurting them would do us no good. We need all the men we can get, especially men like them–fighters. Unless you plan on taking out the King’s entire army single-handedly.

  Hmm, I’m certainly willing to give it the old college try. What do you say, Warrior?

  “Shut up.”

  My Monster chuckled. Very original.

  I decided then that rather than standing here having a conversation with myself, I should probably try addressing the people. I knew they had questions. Instead of waiting for them to ask them, I should just answer them first and then change the subject to the matter that really mattered. Every moment I wasted here was another moment that Nelly had to spend alone in the White World. And another moment that the King had opportunity to make good on his promise regarding Tommy’s father. Tick-tock.

  The only problem was that I wasn’t sure what to say. The closet thing I had to an inspirational, war-leading speech was snippets of memory from Mel Gibson’s lines in Braveheart. I wondered briefly if maybe I couldn’t use some of them. It’s not like most of these supernaturals would have seen the film, but I rejected that idea as quickly as I’d thought of it. But I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from breaking out into an insane fit of giggles.

  May I? my Monster asked.

  I sighed. “Oh, if you must.”

  “I am not going to lie to you,” I said. “Yes, my sister is half-Accursed, and I can understand why that would make some of you uneasy, but Nelly is not the one that you need to fear, or even be worried about. King William is the one who is to blame for everything. He is the one who is putting so many of our people in slave villages and milking them for blood to sell to the Lamia. He is the one who, as we speak, murders those he believes oppose him. He is the one who is deciding who is fit to live and who should die. Well, I think that it is he who needs to die, and that fate I plan to deliver to him.”

  Silence. I swallowed, casting a look over at Tommy and seeing haste and worry written all over his face. I continued, “My sister is not going to be any part of this battle. She is far away from here, so there is no need to even discuss the matter. What we need to be concerning ourselves with is stopping the King before he can kill any more people. The only real question is, who of you are willing to come with me to see this happen?”

  A voice rang out over the crowd that was familiar to me but that I couldn’t place. “I will go with you, Sun Warrior!”

  A memory clicked into place at the same time that my eyes found him, and his presence was so unexpected, so wonderfully unexpected, that I had to stop myself from leaping off of the platform and running to him. Mark, one of the first people I had made friends with in this world, one of the first Warriors who had been kind to me back when I had arrived at Two Rivers. The last time I had seen him, he had been lying in a hospital bed after a very bloody fight against Kayden in the Arena. Mark approached the platform, a smile on his handsome face, walking quickly and smoothly, but the predator in me could see that he favored his left leg. I guess he hadn’t healed completely from Kayden’s beating.

  “Mark,” I said, my breath seeming to catch in my throat. I hopped down from my elevated position and looked up at him, inexplicably happy to see him.

  “Aye, Sun Warrior,” he said, regarding me with his kind smile. “I will fight beside you, and help you see to the death of a King.”

  I reached forward and pulled Mark into a tight hug, unable to help myself. For some reason, tears felt like welling in my eyes, but I forced them back with all of might. “I’m so glad to see you,” I whispered, and laughed a little for the first time in what felt like forever.

  He stepped back and nodded. Then my friends and loved ones began to call out their allegiance, one by one.

  Kayden’s strong voice was the one that started it all. He raised his Warrior’s sword high over his head, his stance as fierce as I had ever seen it, and he shouted, “Death to the King!”

  Then, Tommy, Gavin, Patterson, Malcolm, Olivia, Simon, Vi
ctoria, Catherine, Camillia, and even little Soraya and Akira, followed in his footsteps, their voices mingling together and growing. “Death to the King! Death to the King!”

  The sound rose and rose as more and more people joined in. Those who were Warriors had their swords pointed skyward the same as my Libra, their sliver tips like teeth jabbing at the black sky. Some of the children among them, ranging in all ages, threw their little fists into the air and chanted with the glee of the innocent. A few of the women had tears rolling slowly down their tired faces, but they too cried out. The sound of them all seemed to boom with the beats of my heart, and for the first time in my life, I felt as though I had a greater purpose other than protecting my sister. Maybe even a greater purpose than protecting my sister, though in my heart, that could never be so.

  I climbed back up onto the platform, feeling oddly touched by the whole thing when I really should have been feeling dread and terror. But I found, as I stood before them, that I was not afraid. There was so much rightness in those four words. There was so much hope.

  My Gladius sent cool tingles up my spine where it was tucked into the back of my pants. I reached back and retrieved it, my fingers wrapping around the silver, fitting perfectly into the smooth places of the carved design on its handle. I looked down at the weapon my Mother had given me, the only thing I had left that she had given me, and knew in my heart that this was right. I had always believed that my training, all of the bruises and cuts and early morning runs, had been her way of preparing me to take care of Nelly. Similarly, I had believed that this sword had been an instrument with which to do that. Now, as I looked down at the silver lilies carved into it, the design that matched that of the death-count of my own silver markings, I thought that maybe I had been wrong. Or at least not completely right.

  My Mother had wanted me to save Nelly, but maybe, when she handed me this sword, maybe she had been telling me to save the world, too. I felt the way that truly gifted writers must feel when they are handed a pen and utter free will. Here, darling, you take this pen and use your gift to change the world. Or, in my case, here, take this sword and use your gift to…kill?