He sets off again, speeding up, determined to make it back as soon as possible. To prove that sick feeling inside is wrong. She can’t have deceived him. Not like that.
19
Jai walks in the door and knows she’s not there. The bed is made up and when he turns to the table on the far side of the bedroom, he can’t see his sword. White heat pours through him and rage shivers up his spine. Then it’s gone. Replaced by a cold certainty. A hard knot of deliberate silence. Fisted so tight that he can’t feel his heart anymore. Can barely breathe.
His mind is clear, though.
Ice cold.
He thought he meant something more to her.
He trusted her.
But he never told her how he felt.
And good thing too, for it turns out he is wrong about her after all. She's just another desperate refugee. She had faked her feelings for him.
Not the chemistry or the lust. No, not that. Even in the aftermath of discovering her betrayal, he knows that "feeling" between them is real.
But she has deceived him about everything else.
And she has taken his sword.
She’s also shown him how tenuous that promise he made to his mother is. She has exposed him as a fraud, which he’s always known he is. But now it's out in the open and he must face it: That he’s never intended to fulfill his oath, to be a Guardian, to protect his city.
However much he’s fooled the world into thinking otherwise. Fooled even himself. Still, deep inside he’s always known he won’t be able to see it through. He has lived with the secret fear that he will let his mother down. And now he has.
Hearing the front door open, he swings around, gun already in hand.
He hears someone walk in, then Aria appears at the bedroom door, his sword slung over her shoulder.
She pales on seeing him. A quick intake of breath.
She’s scared. Good. She should be.
"What are you doing back here?" he asks, his voice dangerously low.
She saunters into the bedroom and places the sword on the table, back in its place, saying, "Wrong sword. I took the wrong sword, can you believe that? In my hurry to leave I took yours. I’d forgotten that you’d taken mine, put it away for safekeeping."
She’s trying to look all relaxed but her back is straight, stiff, her stance wary as she leans a hip against the table.
Her eyes dare him to defy her.
"Which reminds me. What are you doing back here?" she drawls. "Thought you took off in a huffy fit."
A familiar irritation crawls up his back, lodging at the base of his neck, setting off a dull throbbing.
Gun still pointed at her, he moves forward till he towers over her. Till she’s forced to tilt her head right back to peer up at him. Pine and mint. His shampoo. She smells of him, yet different. Her scent mixed with his.
Desire hits him and he almost groans out aloud. Pleased his hand is still steady he slips the gun back into the belt around his waist.
"You expect me to believe you took my sword by mistake?" His voice is neutral, with just the right tinge of disbelief.
She reddens, "If I’d wanted to steal it I’d have been long gone don’t you think?"
"I don’t know what to think," he says.
And then it’s his turn to inhale sharply when she steps closer, bridging the gap between them. Close, so close, almost touching. If he moves just half a step forward…
"Don’t think," she whispers and he watches her lips form around the words.
Don’t…
He walks past her, crossing the living room, to the wall of books she’d admired so much earlier. Putting as much space as he can between them. Except it’s not nearly enough.
"I believe you." He tilts his head, his tone indifferent. "It’s just a sword after all, an easily made mistake."
He presses against a section of the wall, and it slides away to reveal her sword.
Picking up her blade he throws it at her, and she’s quick. She catches it, slinging it over her back, securing it, all in one fluid motion. She’s a fighter all right. Her instincts sharp and trained to kill and to defend herself and her family.
Just like him.
"So, this is goodbye then?" she asks, her tone indicating she knows it’s over.
"It’s best if you leave tonight," he says, trying to keep his face free of all expression.
"Why put off the inevitable, right?" she asks, hanging her head, letting her hair fall over her face, covering her eyes.
He can’t see what she’s thinking, and that bothers him. Bothers him that he won’t see those eyes again.
But she must go.
If she stays another night, it will be akin to tempting fate. Opening up possibilities where none exist. Making him hope. And that he must not. Not now when he has his sword back. And he can go back to being what he is.
A soldier.
A Guardian.
A son bound by his promise.
And this time he knows he will fulfill it. He’s been given a second chance to prove himself and he must take it.
"It’s time for you to leave," he agrees. "Goodnight. Ariana," he says formally.
She opens the door to leave, then turns and asks, "What would you have done if I had taken the sword?"
In her eyes he sees curiosity, and something else. A burning hope that he’ll ask her to stay.
"We’ll never know now, will we?" he says, his voice cold, emotionless. Already hinting at the soldier he’s becoming.
He wants to say something, leave her with something to hold on to. But he doesn’t. And then she’s gone.
Turning, he smashes his fist into the book case, punching right through it, the books scattering to the floor.
20
Jai comes awake in an instant, white noise rising in his ears. It takes him a few seconds to place that the buzzing is not in his head. It’s his mobile phone. Reaching for it, he sends the half-empty bottle of whiskey on the bedside table crashing to the ground. Switching on the lamp he swears at the liquid pooling on the floor before forcing out a hello.
"Jai? The Jungle… It’s on fire," Gilbert’s voice bursts out.
"Fire…? What?" He struggles to focus, fighting against the layers of sleep, against the hangover beating against his temples.
"The camp, Jai. The refugee camp is on fire. The shifters have attacked and in much larger numbers. We need to get there, right away."
The urgency in Gilbert’s voice finally slaps him awake. "The team?" he asks, clearing his voice.
"They are with me already," Gilbert snaps.
"With you?" Jai swears again. "Why didn’t you call me earlier?"
"I’ve been trying to reach you for the last half hour…"
"Yeah," he grinds out.
The liquor had worked all too well in knocking him out. He’d been determined to get drunk after she left. A vain bid to forget her. And then it hits him.
"Ariana!" Jai exclaims.
"What happened to Aria? Isn’t she with you? Jai? Answer me!" Gilbert’s voice rises in alarm,
"She left last night. She’s—"
"At the camp!" Gilbert exclaims. "You let her go?"
His disbelief makes Jai cringe. A sick fear twists his gut. She has to be okay. She must be. If not… He stops himself from thinking further.
Flinging off the covers, he’s on his feet and headed for his clothes. He barks out, "I’m on my way."
Jai disconnects before Gilbert can say anything else. He’s dressed and on his bike and speeding down the road in less than five minutes.
The morning breeze slaps his face. And that invisible thread connecting him to Aria yanks at him, gnaws away at the edges of his conscience.
His fault. It’s all his fault. He’d kicked her out. Sent her right into the arms of those savages.
If anything were to happen to her. Just the thought of Aria in harm makes his heart slam against his chest. His jaw hardens and he grips the handlebar of the bike so hard that h
is knuckles turn white with the stress. But he doesn’t notice.
All he can think is that he needs to get to the Jungle. Fast. As quickly as he can. Before it’s too late. No! He shoves that thought from his mind, and focuses on the road ahead, his eyes tracking the curving white of the footpath as the bike sweeps through the sleeping city.
And even before he reaches the outskirts of the city, where the orderly apartment blocks give way to the refugee camp, he can see the blaze leaping into the air.
The stink of burning plastic, of sewage and rotten fruit hits him. And below it all that acrid-sweet smell of burning flesh – of human flesh, he realizes with horror – makes him gag as he drives into the Jungle.
He takes the bike through the makeshift high street of the camp, guiding it through the huts. Past mounds of rubbish. Discarded sleeping bags, rotting food, broken shoes half buried in the dirt. And in the background, fires burn. Stoked with torn-up plastic sheeting, they pour pungent smoke into the air.
Refugees mill around in clusters. Some of them look up as he zooms by but he doesn’t dare meet their eyes. Every time he comes here, it feels as if the conditions have worsened.
This is what he sent her back to. To live among this dirt and filth. Worse, he’d stripped her of hope. Consigned her to death.
The sinking feeling in his gut worsens and he knows then that he’s committed the worst mistake of his life.
The light from the fire flickers over the face of a man by the road. On his knees, his arms around his two children who are holding on to him, gripping his shirt. They are terrified.
She must be too.
The thought slices through his heart, the pain so sharp then he can barely breathe. It’s as if the life is slowly draining out of him. And he knows then he needs to put all thoughts of her out of his mind. He must focus on the task at hand. Must find her.
Speeding up, Jai reaches his team, huddled at the far end where the main thoroughfare of the camp ends abruptly. Gilbert’s in the lead, positioned at their head.
Coming to a stop, he jumps off, not caring when his bike crashes to the ground. Unsheathing his sword, he runs forward, booted feet pounding the road, dirt flying up behind him.
A crack of lightning lights up the scene, and what he sees makes him almost lost his footing.
Facing his team is at least twenty wolves.
In front of them, his gang of people feel tiny, fragile. And even as he’s thinking this, one of the shifters raises its face to the clouds overhead and growls. The vibrations shiver through the air, making the hair on his arms stand on end. Before the animal can take a step forward, a figure peels out of his team. Sword outstretched, she leaps into the air. Only to be flung aside by the shifter which rushes towards them.
His pulse thudding in his ears, Jai pounds through the rest of the way, adrenaline pumping so hard he sees black spots in front of his eyes. Running through a gap in his team, he flings himself on the nearest creature.
Sword outstretched, he slashes at it across its face. As it rears up, he cuts it. Again. Opening up its guts from neck to belly. And dancing aside as it screams and falls over.
Then, grasping his sword, he raises it up. Lightning flashes again, a delicate hair of light forking to his sword, through the blade, down his arm. A purple-red streak of energy zings through him.
His blood dances with the onslaught of adrenaline and something more. Something more potent that flashes through him, firing up his nerve endings, lighting him up from inside.
And it’s as if he’s done this before. Held the sword and felt its power and followed it as it moves of its own accord, his fingers still gripped around it.
Following instinct, he slams the sword down, slashing through the half-beast in front. Blood splashes out, its coppery smell twining with the electricity of the storm. Yet the shifter keeps coming. So close now, he feels its hot breath gush over his skin.
He kicks out, aiming for its head and getting it square in the middle of the forehead. Before the animal can recover he thrusts his sword between its eyes.
Even before its blood has hit the ground, he’s off and running, his legs almost not touching the earth. All there is, is a fierce push to keep going, fast. Very fast. As fast as the shifters. He knows he can keep pace with them. Cutting through the one in front, slicing the one after, onto the next, and then he stops. So suddenly he almost falls over.
For facing him is a woman. She’s not part of his team, she’s with the shifters. And even as a part of him is registering that, she’s already leaping at him, taking him down. And then he’s on his back, and she’s locked her legs around his chest.
He stares, fascinated, unable to tear his eyes away.
He can feel her powerful muscles flex through the leather trousers. She raises her sword. Then another flash of lightning illuminates her features. The shape of her face, the way she tilts it so familiar that something jogs the edge of his memory. But it’s gone and then all he can see are the golden sparks in her eyes, so bright he has to shut his own against their brilliance.
When he opens them, she’s gone. Already running back the way she’d come, tearing towards the forests in the distance.
And as if following an unsaid signal, the other wolves too retreat. As silently as they had attacked, they fade into the darkness, panting. Adrenaline still pumping through his blood, and still gripping his bloodied sword, Jai walks over to Gilbert who looks at him, a scowl twisting his usually placid features.
"And what have you been smoking?" he asks.
"What do you mean?" Jai replies.
"Didn’t you notice how you moved? You were almost as fast as—"
"The shifters," Jai completes the statement.
He’s been so caught up in the thick of battle that it hasn’t really registered. He knows he’s ramped up his speed. It’s almost as if the sword has become part of him and urged him on. And he’s flowed with it, given himself over to it. For a few seconds there he’d seen the world with clarity, seen the wolves move; been able to anticipate their next move.
This has been the singular best battle of his life and he isn’t even winded. Instead he feels energized, as if he’s plugged himself into a power source that has replenished him, sharpened his senses. And it’s because of the sword.
The sword.
It begins to sink in, just how much he needs the sword. That now that he's realized it, it's going to change his life. Then, it begins to rain, and he pushes it out of his mind.
Time enough to think about that later.
Right now he’s running out of time. And that sends a burst of fear through his gut. Panic clogs his throat. Makes it difficult to breathe. It’s as if she’s calling out to him. He knows then that she is in danger. She’s in the Jungle, in trouble, even now as they speak.
"We must find her," he says, his voice sharp with worry.
Turning towards the ramshackle huts that make up the Jungle, Jai takes off at a half-run, sword still in hand.
21
I'd made my way out of Jai’s apartment and, once on the street, the tears had come. I hadn't stopped them. Had let them flow, trying to wipe away the hurt left by this man. The gaping hole he’d carved out where my heart should be. And then the tears too had dried. Leaving behind a fierce anger. An intense fury that I’d allowed myself to feel anything for him. Yet…Jai had cared for me. I knew that. Just not enough to trust me. To let me stay.
Not that, that had never been a possibility either. And yet, somewhere, a part of me had wanted to believe that he’d definitely find a way for me to stay. But he hadn’t. Of course not.
And still, I couldn’t steal his sword. I had taken it, only to find I couldn’t leave with it. Not when it was his legacy; the last thread that bound him to his mother’s memory. I just knew there was a role for the sword to play in his future, in this city’s future. I only had a hint of how powerful the sword could be. But I already knew that if it fell into the General’s hands, he’d only use it to destr
oy the city. Destroy everything Jai and his family had spent all these years building.
And no matter that my sister’s life was at stake, I still could’t leave with it.
I’d stood outside his bungalow, dazed. Bewildered. Wondering what to do next. And only then had the consequences of what I’d done hit home.
I didn’t have the sword.
And now Lily would die.
Unless I found a way to rescue her.
I had to get her.
Couldn’t leave her behind.
Couldn’t face up to Vishal either.
And I had to find Lily today. Now. Before Vishal figured out what was happening, that I wasn’t getting him the sword.
But how do I do this? Who could I turn to?
Even as my mind whirled with questions, I was already running, running till I was back at the Jungle. And at the main thoroughfare of the refugee camp.
Who to turn to? Who can help me find Lily?
And then I’d seen him, a figure in the distance, in the small clearing that served as a gathering place of sorts. It was Aki the de facto refugee leader holding his weekly meetings.
He didn’t like to be called a leader, and he's not a refugee either. Aki was from the city. Just he’d decided to turn his back on the Council and everything they stood for. He'd moved to the Jungle to help the refugees.
He knew every nook and cranny of the Jungle. Rumor had it he even knew the whereabouts of the shifters.
I’d walked towards him without even realizing what my intentions were going to be. Forcing my way through the small throng of people, I’d reached the front of the crowd. And had stood there panting, sweat running down my face. Whispers of terror sparked off my skin, and my face must have conveyed my desperation. For he’d stopped midway through his speech. He had looked at me and I could tell from the way his eyebrows furrowed that he’d known something was wrong. That I was in trouble.
Taken (Many Lives Book 2) Page 9
