Halo (Blood and Fire Series (A Young Adult Dystopian Series))

by Rose, Frankie

  “It sounds like this fence is pretty well maintained,” James offers. He’s wearing a very full knife belt in comparison to my paltry three blades. They flash as he leans back and crosses his legs at the ankle. “There’s a chance we could go down there and cut a way through, but that would negate the ‘softly softly’ approach.”

  “Wait, you’re going into the Sanctuary?” I gasp.

  “We’ll explain in a moment,” Jack tells me. James ignores my interruption and cracks his neck.

  “I still think we’re better off sending a two-man team. We could go through the river just as Kit did. That way, the Sanctuary municipality won’t be alerted to our presence.”

  “But getting twenty or thirty people out that way would be impossible,” Alastair adds. “A pathway should be cut through the fence where it enters the tree line close to the aqueduct. The breach will be much harder to detect that way.”

  “I agree,” Ella says, straightening out her skirts. “The element of surprise is key here. With such a time sensitive matter on our hands, it would be easy to charge blindly into the city before we’re too late. Yet, a subtle entrance is of the utmost importance if we’re to accomplish our goal.”

  I glance around the room, my eyes as wide as they will go. “Which is?”

  Jack pats my knee, but everyone else pretends I haven’t even opened my mouth.

  “I still think this is madness,” Bartholomew says. “Who are we to get involved in the Sanctuary’s dealings, anyway? They’ve been aware of Freetown for decades. We receive much-needed trade from them that we’d be hard-pressed to manage without during the wintertime. It’s foolishness to bite the hand that feeds us.”

  Jack stiffens next to me. “The Sanctuary does not feed Freetown, brother. I won’t have it said that they do. We’ve been an independent entity for as many years as I care to remember.”

  “And yet who do we get our wheat from when the ground is frozen solid, Jack? The beets for our livestock? The materials to make our clothes?”

  “And where do they get their weaponry for that carnival of a performance they call an amphi-match each month?” James snaps. “This isn’t about food for the people of Freetown to you, Bartholomew. It’s about the money that lines your pockets. The Sanctuary’s money. Tell me, what have you been spending all your currency on within Freetown’s limits? The real men living in this town trade in blood and sweat, not gold and silk.”

  Bartholomew rocks in his chair, hissing under his breath. His fury practically pours off him. From the other side of the fire, I almost admire the way James doesn’t even blink at the string of curse words that pour out of the thin man’s mouth. “You’re a fighter, James. I don’t expect you to understand that there are ways to make a living with your mind in place of ending the lives of your fellow town’s folk.”

  James’ eyes flash murder, still fixed on the burning fire. “And you are a coward, my friend. I don’t expect you to understand that there is honour to be had in making a living with your hands, either in the fields or in the pit, instead of hiding away behind your dusty stacks of papers. But let me tell you this: any time you begin to imagine you can out-think me with that big old brain of yours, whatever the venue, please feel free to try and prove it.”

  “Gentlemen, now is not the time!” Jack runs his hands back through his hair. “Bartholomew, I appreciate that your business will suffer if the Sanctuary discover we have a hand in any part in any of this, but unfortunately that is not what we are here to debate. It’s already decided that we will intervene. Right now, we are trying to determine how.”

  Bartholomew’s chair creaks as he rises, his stretched out shadow drawing tall and thin on the opposite wall. “I see that the republic is fallen,” he mutters. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  “The republic is hardly fallen because you can’t get your own way, you stupid man,” Alastair snaps. He grabs hold of Bartholomew’s sleeve and tugs hard so that the frail man falls off balance and lands back in his seat. “Don’t cut your nose off to spite your face. There are lives at stake here.”

  My head starts swimming at this comment. “Whose lives are at stake? Can someone please tell me what all this is about!” My voice rises to a strangled shout, and finally, finally, people pay attention.

  Ella tsks and reaches out to take my hand. The contact is obviously meant to reassure me but just puts me on edge. I tolerate it, though, as she says, “It appears there are some people within the Sanctuary’s limits who are in danger of being terminated. The municipality have found out about the cells operating across the city. They know there are somewhere between twenty to thirty individuals whose halos aren’t functioning. Right now they have technicians sweeping the city, trying to locate them. It’s been decided that we need to step in and help them escape before they are discovered. That’s why anything you can give us about the layout of the Sanctuary, as well as access points in and out of the fences, will be a massive help. The information could be vital in saving those people.”

  I grip hold of my chair until my hands hurt. The burning in my arm gets infinitely worse as my body tenses. “How do you know this?”

  “The radio broadcasts,” Jacks says. “I told you when you arrived here that we listen to the amphi-match reports. That’s not the only thing we pick up. On a daily basis we hear all the radio communication that takes place within the Sanctuary.”

  My stomach clenches. “So this is real. They’re going to kill those people?”

  He nods. Cai’s face forces its way into my mind. All I can think about is the fact that some of those people were the ones who helped him, protected him, taught him how to camouflage himself in amongst the unfeeling populous. How to survive. “We definitely have to help them,” I say. “I have to go with you.”

  An amused smile tugs at the corner of James’ mouth, but no one else finds my statement entertaining.

  “That’s not happening, child. All we need from you is the information. Like Ella said, anything you can―”

  Jack gets cut off when I leap to my feet. “I’m not asking, okay. I have to help. I know the Sanctuary like the back of my hand, every back alley and shortcut through the place. I can’t explain that in enough detail, and you aren’t going to want to find your way around with a map if the technicians are combing the city, are you?”

  Jack huffs out a deep breath and plants his hands on his knees. “You’re not going, Kit. Now, you can either help us in this manner, or we can rely on what I remember myself. Which is it going to be?”

  “What? You’ve been inside the Sanctuary?”

  Another nod from the old man. “I was like you once. I found a way out and I took it, but that was forty years ago. Things will have changed since then. I don’t want to send my people off on an already dangerous mission with old information if we have perfectly good, reliable data to replace it. Will you help us?”

  My jaw practically hits the dirt. So that’s why Jack has always been sympathetic towards my halo-wearing tendencies. Or at least given me room to consider that I might want to put it back on at some point. He knows how hard it is to deal with the onslaught of fresh emotion because he, himself, has been in my shoes. He used to wear a halo. “Yes,” I whisper. “Yes, I’ll help you.”

  “Thank you.”

  We spend the next hour talking over potential points of entry into the city, and not much is decided. I tell them everything I can but somehow it doesn’t seem enough. When we disband for the night, it feels like my legs are rough-hewn rock, heavy to lift and unsteady. Jack lingers behind to talk with Alastair and the rest of us go our separate ways. I’m halfway back to my tent when I realise I’m not as alone as I thought. I freeze beside the copse of silver birch that marks the track leading back to my new home, and listen.

  “James,” I say out loud.

  “You have good ears, Kit. Not much of an advantage in an eight by eight pit, but still, useful.” The man himself steps out from the shadows and leans against a tree trunk, absentm
indedly chewing on a stalk of grass. He takes it out of his mouth and points it at me. “I thought you and I should have a small discussion.”

  “About what?” I don’t trust him. James has a power-hungry motive for everything, from endlessly working to persuade Jack to let women fight in the pits, to killing off Ryka’s father. There has to be some such motive now.

  “So distrustful,” he smiles.

  “You shouldn’t have cut off my hair if you wanted me to trust you,” I tell him.

  “It hasn’t occurred to you that I was only trying to help?”

  “I doubt that.”

  The hint of a smile plays across his face. “And I know why. You’d have to be blind to miss what’s going on between you and Ryka. From an outsiders’ perspective it must be hard to understand how he can have forgiven me for killing his father. But he understands how things are. Freetown’s is a harsh reality, but it’s ours. People die here. And there’s always someone on the other end of the offending blade, right?”

  “It’s not like that, James, and you know it. It was premeditated. You planned the whole thing with the priestesses!”

  He shrugs, but his eyes pierce into me, fierce and challenging. “I never said the priestesses were involved. And are you saying you never strategized in order to win your matches in the Colosseum? Were none of the men and women you killed on the arena floor mothers or fathers?”

  Bile leaps up and stings the back of my throat. I fought and killed people of all ages before, when I was under the influence of my halo, and goodness knows the Sanctuary often expected Falin to have children. I look away, mortified that he is probably right. “Just—what are you doing following me, James?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “I know Ryka has been watching over you if you’re out at night alone. He’s not here right now, so I was simply seeing you home safely.”

  I pull myself up, my hands automatically going to the daggers in my belt. “You don’t need to do that.”

  Focusing on where my hands rest, he steps towards me. “I just wanted to make sure Joshua and his loutish friends didn’t chance upon you in a dark corner, girl. My apologies.” He goes to turn away, but I call out after him.

  “I’m not your responsibility, James.”

  He smirks over his shoulder. “So the Gods are merciful, after all.”

  “I’m not Ryka’s responsibility either. I can take perfectly good care of myself.” I expect James to laugh, but he doesn’t.

  “I saw you in the pit. I know exactly who you are and what you’re capable of.” He goes quiet, just staring at me. I shift uneasily and point my thumb over my shoulder.

  “I’m going home. You should, too.”

  He nods, still watching me over his shoulder. “When you locate Ryka, tell him to come and see me. We’re going to need to discuss how we’re breaking into your old hometown.”

  “What?” No way is Ryka getting involved in this. It’s dangerous, and with that temper of his he wouldn’t have a hope of concealing his emotions once he got inside. “That’s not a good idea.”

  “I don’t make the rules.”

  “Well, if he’s going, then so am I!”

  “You’ll have to convince Jack before that happens. I somehow don’t think he’s going to change his mind any time soon.”

  I cringe, knowing that what I’m about to say is going to cost me, if not monetarily then definitely in pride. “You could talk to him.”

  “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re not my responsibility.” The corner of his mouth twitches like he wants to smile.

  I growl, clenching my hands into fists. Gods, this man is difficult. “Please! I—I guess I would owe you.”

  James’ body language changes fractionally, and his smile finally develops. “I see. And you would repay my favour without complaint when I asked it of you?”

  “I’m not…I’m not doing anything…weird with you, before you even think―”

  James barks out a sharp burst of laughter, tipping his head back so that his Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “I don’t want to have sex with, you strange girl. I’ve never struggled finding willing participants for that. No, perhaps I’ll just ask something of you one day. It will be nothing more than a simple yes.”

  I scan his facial expression, looking for anything nefarious. It’s a pointless task, given that everything about James seems potentially nefarious. He’s just so confusing. Is being able to go back into the Sanctuary with Ryka, to keep him safe, to repay some of the debt I owe to Cai by helping his friends, worth this deal? Feels like a deal with the devil. I swallow and do my best to shove the niggling Don’t You Do It! out of my head.

  “Fine.”

  “Wonderful.”

  “When am I going to have to agree to this ‘something’?”

  James tosses the grass stem from his mouth and shoves his hands in his pockets, evaporating into the darkness. “Oh, don’t worry. It will be very obvious when the time comes.”

  COMPETITION

  Somehow, James makes good on his word, and Jack comes to find me two days later. “You can go, but on one condition,” he says, holding up his index finger.

  I’m too relieved to object. “Anything.”

  “You do whatever James and Ryka tell you. And you don’t do anything rash that might compromise the plan.”

  “That’s two conditions,” I say.

  “Two very good, reasonable conditions.” Jack frowns at me. “Can you do that? Can you take direction without fighting them every step of the way?”

  How Jack knows me this well is a mystery. “Of course I can.”

  He grumbles but takes me at my word. “I’ve made contact with one of the cells. The old man in charge, he has a plan to get his people out that might actually work with your help.”

  “Opa?” I ask. It can only be him.

  Jack nods. “You know him?”

  “No. But my friend did.”

  Jack misses my edgy expression. He put his hand on my shoulder. “There’s been a lot of movement in the forest today. Ry will be back before lunchtime, mark my words. You should be ready to go. Pack nothing but water and food.”

  And knives, I think to myself. Really sharp knives. With Jack, that probably goes without saying. He hugs me brusquely and leaves, and I go about boiling up enough water to last two days hike through the forest. My bag is packed when Ryka appears around noon, just as Jack said he would.

  He stands in the doorway to my tent, awkward and silent, and for a while I pretend I haven’t noticed him, even though I have. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to say. Our last conversation nearly blew my head off, and I’ve not come anywhere close to untangling the mess I’ve made out of everything in his absence. In the end he just comes in and sits down on the edge of my bed as I gather up my stuff. “Did you enjoy your space?” I ask him. It feels kind of petty to be sharp with him but I’ve felt a little abandoned since he left. After what happened, I don’t know, I guess I thought he would want to stick around. He gives me a crooked smile that seems out of place combined with the troubled frown he wears.

  “Sometimes, Kit, you can put as much space as you like between yourself and a problem and it won’t make a blind bit of difference.”

  I automatically go to touch my neck but manage to still my hand halfway. I rub the heel of my palm into my solar plexus, wanting the subtle ache there to leave. I have a feeling it’s more of an emotional pain than physical ailment, however. “Is that what I am? A problem?”

  Ryka closes his eyes and shakes his head slowly. “Not you. Just…everything.”

  “Oh. Well I could have tried to fix me as a problem, but everything? That might be a little difficult.” I find a small smile for him when he looks up at me. He looks so different without the whole bravado thing keeping his back straight and that cocky grin on his face. Now, he looks a little lost. Confused, ju
st like me. I dump my bag on the floor and note how our roles have reversed since the last time we were together. Him sitting on my bed instead of the other way around, and me getting ready to leave with a bag in my hand. The only difference is that this time, when I go, he’s coming with me.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks quietly.

  I glance up at him as I pluck Cai’s holostick out from underneath my pillow. He flinches and I’m quick enough to catch it. “Yes, I need to. I owe it to those people. Cai wouldn’t have made it as far as―” The more I speak, the more Ryka flinches. I straighten, trying to figure out what the hell is wrong with him. “Are you okay?”

  He looks away. “Yeah. I just…Cai...”

  “What about him?”

  “It’s hard to compete with him, y’know. He has the unfair advantage of being so very dead. No one remembers the negatives about people who’ve kicked it. I’m still very much alive and making mistakes on a daily basis.” He stares down at his hands, his hair in his eyes, and I can’t help but acknowledge how badly I’m itching to touch him.

  “Why do you think you’re competing with Cai?” I whisper.

  “Because―” He exhales sharply, cracking his knuckles. “You carry that trinket around with you like it’s your most prized possession. You fought me to get it back, remember. Every time I see you it’s in your hand. Kind of says a lot.”

  I look down at the holostick, as he said, clenched firmly in my hand. I had no idea he would think of it like that. “I’m sorry,” I breathe. “I don’t feel that way about Cai. You were right when you said I didn’t know him. I just feel so ashamed and guilty all the time. He made a huge sacrifice so I could live, and I keep messing everything up, too.”