by A. W. Cross
What if it was the other way around? What if she knew that the person she cared about was going to die if she didn’t do something, something risky, something selfish? If she knew that fighting would only result in both their deaths? Would she try to convince him to leave, living with a bloody conscience as the toll for their survival? Would that be a price she was willing to pay?
Yes.
But.
“I still can’t do it,” she whispered. “I understand him, and I can forgive him, but I still can’t do it. I can’t leave them to die.”
The woman gave a curt nod. “Good. You’ll be needing this, then.” She pressed a tiny chip into Beauty’s hand.
“What’s this?” She turned it over in her fingers. It bore no markings, no clue to what it held.
“Our only chance at salvation. Give it to Cillian—he’ll know what to do. But hurry. They’re moving against him even as we speak. I might already be too late.”
Beauty was off her stool before her heart took another beat. “They’re coming after him?” A chill settled in her chest.
“Yes. I was actually on my way to him when I saw you. They know.”
“But…how could they?” They’d been so careful at the ball.
“Well, they suspect. Someone saw you kissing at the party. Someone with a scorned and vindictive heart. And it was clear that you’re not a member of Grace Alpha. Gideon unfortunately has a nose for these things—young women, that is.”
“I— I don’t know what to say. Thank you.” Beauty turned away. She had to get back to Cillian, now. But— “What’s your name?”
The woman shook her head. “Better you don’t know. For both our sakes.” She gave Beauty a little push. “Now go. And listen—if you get there and something feels wrong, get out of there as soon as possible. Do you understand? It will be worse for both of you if they catch you.”
“Why are you helping us? Aren’t you risking your life too?”
“I was born in Wakelight. I chose a different path at the very beginning of the war, but that doesn’t mean this city has gone from my blood completely. I know you see us all in Grace Alpha as monsters, but you can’t always trust your eyes. I’m sure you’ve already discovered the truth in that.”
Impulsively, Beauty flung her arms around the other woman’s neck. “Thank you.”
“Never mind. I hope to see you again.” She pushed Beauty again, harder this time. “Go.”
15
“Cybel!” Cillian’s voice roared through the warren. He slammed his fist into the wall, bits of debris shaking loose from the ceiling and dusting his shoulders. “Cybel!”
“Yes?” Cybel rolled slowly into the room. Nothing about her had changed, yet Cillian swore there was defiance in every scrap of metal on her damn body. Her expression, as ever, was bland. Who, me?
“What the hell did you just do?”
“I opened the door.”
“I know that! I want to know why.”
“Because she’s right. And don’t try to go after her.”
“What? She’s what?” The knuckles on his hand throbbed. Why hadn’t he used the other one? He massaged them as he glared at her.
“We can’t leave all those people to die. It’s not right.”
“None of this is right, Cybel. But at least then she would’ve had a chance.” He leaned against the wall then slid down it to the floor. “We would’ve had a chance.”
“And she would’ve hated you for the rest of your lives.” Cybel rolled over to him. “You know that. She never would’ve forgiven you—or herself. There was no chance there for either of you.”
“But she’d be alive.”
“So? She lived her whole life believing the enemy was on her doorstep—which it was. The threat of death doesn’t carry the same weight.” She swiveled on her waist. “She hasn’t seen war the way you have. She still sees the glory in dying for a cause. It’s been bred into her over the years.”
He dropped his head into his hands. “But—” Her expression as she’d looked at him. The anger, the loathing. And for the first time, it wasn’t because of his face. She hated him. But still, he had to save her. Even if she never forgives me. She was the one shining star in the darkness, a light that needed to be preserved over anything else.
“You’d would feel the same, Cillian, if this was your city.”
“It is my city. I grew up here, just as she did.”
“You know what I mean. You already believe this city will reject you, so you rejected it, long ago. She’s only known you a few weeks. It’s hard to change everything you believe so quickly.”
She was right. Damn her, but she was right. “But what other choice do we have? Just stay here and die?” If there was another choice, he would take it. But what? They couldn’t just march into the town square and announce it. There would be chaos, as he’d told Beauty. And a bloodbath. Even if the people of The Vault managed to stay calm, to organize themselves, they were no match for Grace Alpha. They were half-starved, had given everything they had. They couldn’t win. They wouldn’t even put up much of a fight. No matter how he looked at it, Grace Alpha would obliterate them all.
Had that been their plan from the beginning? To use him as a pawn in The Vault’s destruction? He tried to think. After he’d been injured, he’d spent months in and out of consciousness.
“You have a choice,” a female voice had offered him through the dark. “It may be the last choice you ever make, but you’ll live.”
That had surprised him. Not the offer, but that he wanted to choose. He wanted to live. It was unexpected. What do I have to live for? Before he’d lost consciousness, he’d seen what had happened to his unit, to his own body, though it was like remembering something seen in a fog. He wasn’t convinced he was actually alive, even now. So what could be the harm in accepting her offer? At best, he would live. And at worst, he would believe he did. Win-win.
“It will be painful.”
He understood pain, embraced it.
“Some will fear you. Others will obsess over you.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“One day, we will need you. Your war isn’t over.”
But the end of his war was coming now; he could feel it. What was it she’d meant? Had he missed an opportunity somewhere, something that would’ve saved The Vault? And he’d just been too blind to see it? Or had they believed he would simply let it happen, a soldier, used to the collateral damage?
Beauty was right. They couldn’t just run. “I made a mistake, didn’t I?” Admitting it stung.
“Yes. But you made it with the best of intentions.”
“Little good that does now. She’s gone.” All he’d been able to think about was keeping her safe. Now, he wouldn’t even be able to that. He still wasn’t convinced that running wasn’t the best option, but if she wouldn’t do it, it wasn’t an option at all.
“Don’t worry, Cillian. She’ll be back. I’m sure of it.” Cybel patted the door as though Beauty was already waiting on the other side.
“I hope you’re right.” But what would happen if she did come back? What then? Please come back. And soon. The uneasiness in his gut told him they were running out of time.
There was a knock on the door, soft at first then insistent. Cillian’s pulse quickened. That must be her. Cybel was right.
And yet, the shifting of feet in the corridor was too heavy. Had she brought someone with her? The unease in his stomach reached a fevered pitch.
“I told you!” the little robot crowed, reaching up to press the door release.
Cillian snatched her hand back before she could touch it. “Cybel, shut down.”
“But, Cillian—” Her interface blazed in confusion.
“I said, shut down! When this is over, find Beauty. Do you understand?”
Her eyes went blank and her arms dropped to her sides.
“Sorry, Cybel,” he whispered as he knocked her over and sent her body careening across the floor to r
est in the corner with some junk he’d been meaning to dispose of.
He turned back to the door, just as it blew out of its seal. The air around him burned and for a few moments, he couldn’t see. When the haze cleared, he was on his knees. Something wet trickled down the side of his face.
Gideon Black stood on the other side of the threshold, his weapon lifted and aimed at Cillian.
No. They were out of time. Had they found Beauty? Or had she managed to escape?
Gideon advanced on him slowly, keeping his eyes locked on Cillian. His movements were cautious, calculated. He knew what the cyborg was.
Cillian’s mind raced. Should he surrender? If he did, would he somehow be able to help Beauty?
No. They will never take her alive. If she still lived, maybe he could buy her some time to escape. Please, don’t come back. Cybel will find you. She’ll keep you safe. Still, his eyes kept returning to the door, afraid he would see her face. Gideon would show her no more mercy than he was about to show Cillian.
He rose, bracing himself. Gideon wasn’t going to take him without a fight. “I’m not coming with you.”
Gideon gave a sharp laugh. “You’re right about that.”
The blast hit Cillian full force in the chest. His metal skeleton bowed around the projectile, his arms curling to embrace it. Then the ground beneath his feet disappeared and—
The light was gone, and everything was numb, and soundless, and dark, and she was touching his face, across the seam where man and metal came together.
“Does it hurt?”
No. He would not give up now. He was not going to die at the hands of Gideon Black. If he died, it would be in the scramble of The Vault for freedom, with Beauty by his side.
I love you.
He rolled over onto his side, spitting up blood. Good. That meant he was still alive. If only the room would stop spinning. His back was against a couch, the very couch where Quinn had given Beauty to him. He hauled himself to his feet, his fingernails tearing at the fabric.
Turning, he faced Gideon. The man’s face was streaked with dust and pockmarked with flecks of blood from minute shards of Cillian’s metal body. He staggered slightly; his ears must be ringing too. He stared at Cillian, blinking, as though he didn’t quite see him.
Keep moving.
Cillian looked down. His shirt was in tatters over his chest, but he couldn’t see what lay beneath. He peeled it over his head and took a deep breath before peering down. The mesh covering his metal frame was twisted and torn, exposing the plating underneath. Which...was intact. How the hell was that possible? It was scuffed but otherwise undamaged, even though his insides felt like they’d been stomped on. What kind of body had they given him? This wasn’t a body built for peace. Another lie.
Well, he would use this lie to his advantage. He leaned forward, his hands on his knees as he tried to draw a deep breath.
That hurt.
But at least he was on his feet. He bent low, protecting his open chest. The mesh might’ve saved him the first time, but he doubted it could absorb a second hit.
And that seemed to be exactly what Gideon had in mind. The haze had cleared enough that he could see Cillian. His expression was shocked, and he turned his weapon over in disbelief.
“Don’t worry, you got me.”
Gideon’s head snapped up and he glared at Cillian. “I guess I’ll have to take another shot.”
Why had he come alone? Was he really that cocky? Or was Cillian’s execution just another dirty secret? He took a step toward Gideon, his mind racing. He wasn’t familiar with the weapon the man held. Would he have to reload it? Would Cillian have time to get to him before he did? He glanced around for anything he could use as a weapon. Nothing but the pile of junk on the far side. Cybel kept the room too damn clean.
“Why did you have to ruin everything? You could’ve kept our secret, and you’d have been rewarded.” Gideon kept his eyes on Cillian’s face as he spoke.
But his hands fumbled over the weapon—he was stalling.
Cillian pressed his advantage and took another step forward. Gideon’s fingers worked faster, and a bead of sweat tracked a line through the bloody flecks on his face.
“You never had any intention of letting me live.”
Gideon’s returning sneer was all the proof Cillian needed. He rushed the other man, catching him off-guard. Gideon raised the weapon in front of his chest like a shield, but Cillian batted it easily away. It hit the floor and slid, spinning, before disappearing under the couch.
Then, before Gideon could speak, Cillian raised his metal fist and punched him in the face, the satisfying sound of breaking bone reverberating through the room.
Gideon was down for only a few seconds before he pushed himself onto his hands and knees. Blood dripped from his mouth, and as he spat, shards of enamel sprayed onto Cillian’s boots. Cillian grabbed him by the hair and forced his head back so he could look him in the face.
“Why couldn’t you just let them live?”
Gideon snarled at him, pink foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. “For peace.”
Cillian nearly choked on his laugh. It was getting harder to breathe. Maybe the mesh hadn’t protected him as well as he’d thought. “How is peace killing the thousands of people who gave you the life you have?”
“The people of this country didn’t want peace. They didn’t want progress. They turned away from the future, so they don’t deserve to have one.” He turned his head and spat again. “They started the war. If they hadn’t banished us, hadn’t forbidden our attempt to give Heartcrown the future it was worthy of, the war never would’ve happened.”
“They didn’t want your future. Perhaps they were wrong. But they didn’t annihilate you. They made laws, compromises.”
“That was their mistake. We won’t make the same one. If they hadn’t allowed us to live, we couldn’t have gone away and gathered our strength. They would’ve had their peaceful future, as backward as it was.”
“So you’re killing them now to prevent a war in the future?” If that was what Gideon truly thought, he was mad.
“Of course. They’re still our enemy. If we released them and they learned the truth, what would stop them from rising up against us, the way we did to them?” He twisted his bloody lips into a smile. “As for the last few years, they’ve paid their debt to us, nothing more. They built us the future we were denied. Now things have been put right. As far as I’m concerned, collapsing The Vault, burying all the domed cities, is a mercy for us all. We’ll never have another war.” He lurched to his feet. “It will end our isolation. We can join Foxwept. Join the future.”
“They’re already on their knees, Gideon. They’re in no shape to fight you.”
“Neither were we, but we did. We did. And we won.” He lunged at Cillian.
Cillian stood his ground. Gideon slammed into him, into his weakened chest, but his human body was still no match for Cillian’s, even damaged as it was. “Gideon, you know how this will end.” Something shifted inside his ribcage, and air crept even more slowly into his lungs, as though he was trying to breathe through a straw. His vision started to swim.
I’m going to suffocate.
Gideon fell to one knee and glared up at him. “They’ll kill you, you know. They fear you. Hate you.” His mouth twisted as he spoke. Was he trying to smile?
Cillian smiled for him. “Not all of them.” He had to end this now, while he still had enough strength left. Already the edges of his sight were growing dark. He wrapped his hands around Gideon’s neck, his metal thumb over the man’s windpipe. He was so fragile, this man. How could something be so delicate, so weak, and cause so much destruction? And how could the people of this city, so strong, so able to endure, have so little power?
Well, not anymore. The people of The Vault would have to save themselves, but maybe he could give them some time to do so. If Beauty was still alive, she would tell them. Cybel would help her… Cybel would…
Gideon struggled between his hands, his eyes bulging as he tried to draw a breath. He was taking too long to die…too long. Why wouldn’t he just stop breathing? But he clung stubbornly to the same life he was so quick to steal from others.
One of Cillian’s eyes went dark. He fell to his knees, then to the floor, bringing Gideon with him. The other man kicked feebly, his heels digging for purchase and finding none. Cillian rolled onto his back and slid his hands from Gideon’s neck to his head. Just one…one…
Gideon took a shuddering breath.
Cillian snapped his neck, and he stopped moving at last.
He lay down, finally able to rest. Warm air bathed his skin, as though someone had opened a door. He’d felt the sensation before, only then the air had been hotter, so very hot.
A face loomed over his. Not Gideon’s, but the face of an angel. His angel. Beauty cupped Cillian’s face between her hands and pressed her lips to his forehead.
“You came back.” He tried to raise a hand to push back the hair that had fallen over her face. He wanted to see her, to see…
“You have to wake up, Cillian.”
“No. If you’re here with me, I don’t want to ever wake up.”
“You have to. This isn’t real. If you don’t wake up, you’ll die.”
“I love you.”
She leaned down to kiss him, his angel of death, bringing the last of the darkness with her and drawing the final bit of air from his lungs.
16
Beauty stumbled and almost fell, the stitch in her side making her trip over her own feet. She’d already taken the wrong turn twice. Paint some damn arrows on the walls. She bent over, her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. Well, if I’m having this much trouble, hopefully whoever’s after him will have it even worse.
She never should’ve left him, even if he was wrong. He was supposed to be the one with the bad temper. She should’ve stayed and tried to understand his side. Maybe then they could’ve worked together. Come up with a solution they could both live with. That they could all live with.
