His expression hardened. “I suppose you cannot see everything. It was a gamble I needed to take. The benefits far outweighed the risks.”
“If she wasn’t a child… Don’t press her, James. Please.” Aurora slipped off the desk, set her mug down, and put a hand on his arm. “I’m still certain she will watch you die.”
Archon failed to conceal a shudder. “Well… Of course. She is a child. I expect she will outlive me.”
“I half want to say she’ll choose to let you die, but I can’t fully believe she would do that.”
He closed his eyes, sighing irritation out his nose. “I would rather prefer it if you would tell me who I can trust and who my enemies are.”
“James.” Aurora leaned in close enough to kiss him. “Your biggest adversary is your own refusal to adapt, compromise, or…” She leaned back, stood, and wandered to the window; the dark rendered it an onyx mirror, her body a milky ghost upon its surface. She hovered there a few seconds, smiling at him via reflection.
“Or what?”
“Or look over the edges of tall buildings.”
Archon blinked. “What?”
She threw her head back, laughed, and slipped between worlds. The chill of the Astral realm cascaded over her front as the smoothness of satin slid down her back. Leaving him there to stew in the confusion kept her grinning. She glided through the glass as though it had no more solidity than a diaphanous spider web. Without a passenger along, she flew high and fast, blurring over the terrain of the city, the Badlands, East City, the ocean, and countryside in a matter of minutes. The journey made her think of Althea’s wide, innocent eyes. For a few seconds, she regretted that a person so pure would be caught up in the approaching storm. She found it curious that she’d never once been tempted to mess with that girl. Her usual habit of adoring it whenever she made someone squirm didn’t apply to her. She’d only ever felt pity toward that child, laced with a tinge of admiration—and guilt over playing a role in her experience with Archon.
After all that mite’s been through, this little shitstorm shouldn’t change her. Aurora bowed her head. I hope.
About an hour after leaving Archon, she glided into a dense wooded area. Three men in chain mail armor, bearing swords and shields, paused to give her wide-eyed stares as her feet settled upon a soft bed of dirt and leaf detritus. The one in the middle held up a cruciform broadsword and bade her return to hell.
“I’m not a witch, you dolt. Also, you’re dead. You’ve been dead for over a thousand bloody years. If you haven’t found your god yet, I doubt you’re going to.”
She stepped out from beyond the veil. Noonday sunlight and green washed over the sepia-toned trees as her body reappeared in the living world. A short distance ahead at the end of a stone path, a tiny cabin sat in the tranquil forest shade of County Gwynedd, Wales.
Aurora smiled at the warm glow of firelight flickering in the windows.
13
A Few Years Yet
Althea
Late afternoon sun made the flower-patterned white curtains over the kitchen sink glow with comforting warmth. Althea took a handful of diced chicken from a bowl and spread it over a tortilla shell, added a ladle of sauce, and a sprinkle of cheese. After rolling the enchilada into a log, she placed it in the tray waiting for the oven. Karina appeared behind her in time to grab her wrist when she attempted to sneak a bite of chicken.
“Wait for dinner.” Karina hauled a pot of water onto the stove.
Althea rubbed her foot up and down her shin, trying to scratch an itch on her sole since she had to keep her hands ‘food clean.’ She grabbed another tortilla and laid it flat. “That’s silly. I can’t eat before I eat?”
“It’s rude.” Karina opened the oven door and set up the kindling.
“I tried to talk to Den today, but he ran off.” Althea kept her gaze on Karina, sneaking a blind grab at one of the bowls and stuffing a few pieces into her mouth while her sister wasn’t watching.
Jalapeño.
She turned red and whimpered, unable to spit it out, lest her thievery be discovered.
“He’ll be okay.” Karina left the fire to grow and walked behind her to the other side of the L-shaped counter. “Jalapeños are hot.”
Caught.
An upwelling of guilt stalled when Karina laughed and patted her on the head. Althea coughed on the peppers, eyes watering, but managed to swallow them before Karina handed her a cup of milk. She sent a distrustful glower at the strange new box in the kitchen that made things cold, fearful it would bring the evil of that awful city with it.
“This water doesn’t look safe.”
“It’s milk.”
Althea blinked at it, an expression of horror spreading over her face.
“From a cow.” Karina blushed.
“Eww.” She scrunched her nose.
Karina laughed. “Some of the things you eat, and you’re making that face at milk? Go on, it’ll help the spice. Besides, you’ve already had some in the coffee the other day.”
Althea stared at her, horrified. “It came out of a cow?”
“You’ve never had milk before?”
“No.” She pouted at the cup. “Sorry for sneaking food.”
“It’s fine, Thea.” Karina rummaged the cabinets in search of seasonings for the rice. “Electricity is going to make our life better.”
The fire in her mouth made her doubts regarding the suspiciously cold milk seem unimportant. After a tentative sip didn’t taste horrible, she tried not to think of it being made from a cow and gulped it down, holding the last mouthful on her tongue to cool it. Karina took over assembling the enchiladas. Althea stood close at her side, eyeing the bowls of makings.
“You’ll ruin your appetite.”
Althea grinned, twice reaching for a bowl with no real intent to take anything, and twice having Karina grab her hand. She continued the game until Karina, laughing, ushered her away from the counter.
“Enough. Would you please get some wood?”
“Okay.” Althea swung her arms in an exaggerated walk to the back porch door.
She stared at the knob, remembering the fear she once had at going outside alone, as if a horde of raiders waited to ambush her at any second. A little nervousness returned, but she opened the door with confidence in herself and marched out onto the back porch. Even her slight weight sent thuds through the house with each step on the old boards.
The pile of firewood sat at the left side, up against the wall where the rotting frame of old screens had collapsed outward and the air carried the scent of fresh-cut wood. Even in split logs, it continued to want to grow. Pieces at the bottom, idle longer than the rest, had threaded tiny roots into the floorboards and sprouted a few leaves. None lasted long; the ancient magic that kept them growing only lingered for a few days before it gave up. She suspected it had something to do with whatever chamán had caused the trees to grow in the desert a few miles southeast of Querq. Father called it ‘technology’ from before the war, and once told her the trees they cut for wood grew back in a matter of weeks.
Althea shook her head. Father doesn’t understand magic.
She squatted next to the pile and selected a few pieces, laying them across her lap. The wind picked up, causing the walls to creak. A clap came from the flimsy excuse for a door by the porch steps that clattered in its frame with the gusts. Althea disregarded the noise, balancing a third log atop the first two. Not until the floorboards shifted under her feet did she realize someone had snuck up behind her.
The logs went tumbling away as Althea whirled around, falling back against the woodpile, butt on the floor. Her panic never quite made it to a scream; expecting a kidnapper, she found herself staring up at the wild-eyed face of Esmerelda. The younger, though larger, girl radiated fear and anger in almost equal amounts. Small, round welts covered her face, arms, and legs.
Althea raised an arm, hand up. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Take it off me.” Esmereld
a’s tone wavered between demand and plead.
“What?” Althea scrambled to her knees and reached for the other girl’s hand.
Esmerelda leaned away. “The curse. You put bad on me for hitting you.”
“Who did this to you?” Althea radiated calm, altering the girl’s mood.
“Please.” She scratched at her arm. “It hurts. I fell off the pipe and hit a nest of bees. The bad luck curse. Yesterday, I shut my hand in the door. Papa told me not to come here, but it hurts so much. They stung me all over.”
“Sit still.”
Shivering, Esmerelda ceased backing away whenever Althea reached for her.
Althea grasped the girl's arm and concentrated until her consciousness linked to Esmerelda's life essence. Tiny disruptions in the girl’s skin appeared, too many stings to count, as well as threads of liquid toxin swirling around the blood-shape. It took little effort to force her skin to mend itself and collect the venom to be purged.
“I did not put bad on you.” Althea opened her eyes. “I am not angry.”
“Take it off.” Esmerelda bit her lip and squirmed, crossing her legs.
“I… When you hit…” Althea furrowed her brow. She couldn’t think of how to explain feeling happy at being treated like a normal person while at the same time not enjoying being hit. Rather than stumble with words, she projected the emotion into Esmerelda. “Go make water. You must let the poison from the bees out.”
As the other girl ran off down the street, Althea re-gathered the firewood. While picking up the fourth log, she spotted a fat, white grub wriggling along the surface. She grabbed it with a squeal of delight and jammed it in her mouth, lifted the wood, and used her butt to push the door open. Karina blinked at her as she walked to the stove.
“What took so long?”
Althea tried to look innocent. Esmerelda got stung by bees.
Karina’s concerned look at the telepathic message faded to playful suspicion. “What’s in your mouth?”
She attempted to smile without opening it.
“Thea…” Karina tapped one foot.
“Grub.” She opened her mouth in an over-wide grin, showing off bits of half-chewed mash.
“Ugh.” Karina cringed away.
Althea dropped the wood and clamped her hands over her mouth to prevent her laugh from spraying bug guts all over the kitchen. Still giggling, she set the wood in the stove and backed away, flopping on one of the chairs to let Karina tend the fire.
“You don’t need to eat bugs anymore.” Karina pulled on the handle to open the flue.
“I know. I’ll ruin my ap-tight.” She swung her legs back and forth, eyes downcast, but smiling.
“No, you’ll ruin mine.” Satisfied the rice could be no further along until the water boiled, Karina pulled a chair close and sat. “Did you have fun today?”
Althea nodded. “Yes. Juan and the others let me go with them.”
“About time. What did you do?”
“We went swimming in the pond behind Water Man’s house, and then we went hunting after food.”
“Hunting?” Karina got up to tend the rice pot as it reached a boil.
“Looking for trade-things to give Beard. Treasures in the old city.”
“Althea…” She almost dropped the spoon. “It’s dangerous outside the wall. You shouldn’t be out there.”
She stared down. “I know, but Sophia and Manuel are in the Watch and they said it was okay. Sophia said the bad stuff hides in the day.”
“I don’t want you doing that again, understand? They are seventeen… it’s okay for them to go scavenging, but you are too little.”
Althea bit her lower lip. “Henrietta broke her foot when she fell. Manuel got bit by a dog. Tim got stuck with a piece of metal when a wall fell on him; it came out his back.” She stared at the floor, legs no longer swinging. She thought back to the arena at Vakkar’s factory. “I guess that’s why they wanted me to go with them. They did dangerous because of me.”
Maybe they didn’t like her as much as wanted her there to fix hurts. Her mood bottomed out.
“Ay… they brought all of them? Those kids aren’t old enough either.” Karina shook her head. “It’s not your fault. You had no reason not to believe them. I’ll ask Father to speak to them.”
“Speak to who?” asked Father from the other side of the house.
His boots thudded closer, muted by the threadbare carpet in the hallway between the kitchen and the front door. Althea ran to him, waiting for him to hang his jacket and hat on a peg to the right of the archway before flinging herself into a hug. He squeezed her and shifted her under one arm to open the other for Karina.
Karina walked with her arm at his back, rambling on about Juan and their trip outside. He took his seat and set his hat on the corner of the table.
Father echoed her sister’s statement of her being too young, adding, “Don’t go off like that again unless someone will die if you don’t… and even if that happens, make sure someone comes and lets me know.”
“Yes, Father.”
Althea looked down at the floor for a moment before helping Karina bring the food to the table. After they each had a plate in front of them, Karina and Father got to eating, but Althea stared at her baked enchilada. The same dish as the first food she’d been given here. The sight of it caused her to remember her old life, and she choked up at how happy she felt.
“What’s wrong, Thea?” asked Father.
“It is what you gave me the first day I was here.” She flashed a mischievous smile. “Should I eat it like a dog?”
Karina giggled.
Althea grinned and battled with the knife and fork, which had gotten easier to use, though she made a show of failing at it. “Can Den stay here? There’s rooms.”
Father studied the ceiling for a moment. “You like this boy?”
She offered an eager nod.
“In the kissing sense,” said Father, fidgeting.
“Oh.” Althea shook her head. “I’m not old enough for wifeing yet.”
Father lapsed into a coughing fit. Karina looked away.
“No,” said Father. “Most definitely not. If he were to stay with us, the town would consider him your brother… and that would be…”
“Inbeading?” asked Althea.
Karina’s head hit the table with a thud; she hid her face behind folded arms. Althea looked confused by the strong embarrassment radiating from her.
Father chuckled, coughed again, and hit himself in the chest twice. “It’s only inbreeding if…” He paused, drumming his fingers on the table for a moment. “You know, it’s not important.” He loosed a dry chuckle. “If you still fancy him when you’re older, you two will get a home of your own. Like Corrine and Carlos. You’ve got a good few years yet before you need to worry about that. Don’t waste time worrying now. Be a child.”
The thought she would someday no longer share a room with Karina brought warmth to the corners of her eyes. She thought back to the way she felt when Den had kissed her: strange and warm and scared all at once. Never in her life had she known such a sense of safety and security as she felt here in her home. Would she ever want to give that up to be with Den? It seemed so far away and silly to think about, but both Father and Karina appeared to believe she would. She let the fork drop from her hand and stared at the half-eaten enchilada.
“Althea?” Asked Karina, sounding nervous. “Did you see a bad vision?”
“No.”
“Why do you look about to cry? If you two marry, that would be happy.”
“If I’m with Den, we wouldn’t have the same room anymore.” Althea sniffled.
Karina reached over the table to hold her hand. “In a couple years, you’ll rather share a bed with Den than me.”
“Nuh-uh,” muttered Althea.
Father found his plate beyond fascinating at that moment.
Karina glanced at him and winked at Althea. “Tomará tiempo.”
Worry kept Alth
ea’s smile from expanding to a grin, but she giggled at Karina’s imitation of Father.
14
Hate, Love, and Fire
Kate
Tumbleweed’s had the usual crowd of people for the hour, a handful too old or frail to work. A heavyset man behind the bar, shaved bald save for a frizzy salt and pepper beard, glanced up with a smile as Kate and David made their way to a table. Her snug, grey, long-sleeved shirt and loose-fitting, blue pants made her feel as out of place among the locals as her Division 0 uniform would have. All around her sat people in tattered flannel, ripped jeans, and handmade boots.
The pair got the suspicious-curious stares outsiders often did when invading the world of those who spent most of their waking hours in a tavern, though no one seemed hostile. David left her at the table to stop by the bar; his uniform—and the E90 on his hip—pulled every eye off her. The laser weapon cast a rhythmic blue light from tiny LEDs along the sides of the barrel, a point of glow sweeping back and forth from tip to end. Two old men stared at it like cats ready to pounce on a mouse, mesmerized by the moving spot.
Kate smoothed her shirt and studied the Spanish phrases and names cut into the old wooden table. She wondered if the locals would stop staring at her if she went tribal, full on loincloth and spear mode. Nah, I’d rather have a sword. If nothing else, going off the grid again would be a way to avoid El Tío. Even with David around, the dread of the job she’d begrudgingly accepted kept her from feeling happy. Not being able to find Aaron Pryce had given her some reprieve. That he showed up in the system as a wanted fugitive had calmed her dread that the Syndicate gave her the job as a death sentence, but made her fear being caught in a murder plot and losing everything this second chance might offer.
She glanced at David’s back. He’d leaned his right elbow against the bar, making easy conversation with the man she assumed to be Tumbleweed. David had that ability, exactly how much of it came from his telempathy she couldn’t say, but everyone he met seemed to like him. So far, he had limited his use of psionics on her to lifting her mood whenever she remembered needing to kill Pryce. He relied on concerned glances and long, pointed stares to get her to open up.
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