‘So we stick to the Guildhouse for the night,’ said Gallows. ‘Hide out in the Musicians’ quadrant—no self-respecting Hunter would come this close. Soon as the sun comes up, Aulton, you head for the skyport.’ Gallows ran his fingers through his hair and looked to Serena. He struggled with whatever he needed to say.
A pit opened in Serena’s stomach. ‘What?’
‘You’re going with ’em.’
The pit filled with fire. ‘Like hell! Running ain’t an answer. I tried that and people died, remember?’
Gallows held her gaze, steel in his eyes. ‘Exactly.’
Her skin bristled and she got to her feet. The fire rushed to her fists, but…
He was right.
Everything that had happened was because of her. The Night of Amberfire, Milo, Marrin, the people in the opera house. All those people—dead because of her. ‘I can take care of myself,’ she protested—but the words sounded hollow.
‘We have an engagement aboard the Queen of the North beginning next week,’ said Aulton. ‘We will be aboard for at least three months, likely longer. Its proprietor enlists private security. Mercenaries loyal to money, yes, but very good at their job. You’ll be safe until we determine your next move.’
‘So I’m just to be… packaged off and sent to Nyr knows where? For months? It won’t work! That’s what led me here in the first place, ferried all over the world because the Idari were hunting me!’
‘Now we know why,’ said Gallows. ‘Enfield’s dead and the Idari are an ocean away, but there are plenty of enemies here.’
‘So why not tell the Prime Councillor?’ asked Fabian. His eyes kept flicking towards Serena. ‘Why not have him protect her?’
Gallows thrust the One Three Seven files into the singer’s face. ‘Look at what he’s responsible for! What do you reckon he’ll do if he gets her?’
Fabian stood. He was taller than Gallows and squared his shoulders. ‘And how do we know she won’t burrow into our minds and make us kill one another?’
‘Fabian!’ Aulton hissed.
‘Forgive my bluntness, Serena, I am sympathetic to your predicament, truly I am. But if you possess the power to interfere with our Gods-given free will, then the world is right to fear you.’
Aulton stood. ‘Now, Fabian-’
‘Leave it,’ Serena said. ‘He’s right. I mean, you’re all thinking it. We don’t know what I am. I don’t know what I am.’
‘I do not mean it personally, Serena,’ Fabian explained. ‘I simply believe it needs to be said.’
She welcomed his honesty. So that’s it—sent away again without a word to anyone. No Angelo. No crew. No-one. They’re safer without me anyway.
‘You should all consider leaving.’ Kirivanti’s voice wasn’t far above a whisper, and when she spoke, she didn’t meet anyone’s eye. ‘If the Prime Councillor knows these materials are out in the open, he will not hesitate to execute you as traitors. If we can indeed get Serena out, you should accompany her.’
‘I got business I need to square with Confessor Cronin,’ said Gallows.
Valentine eased a crick in her neck. ‘I ain’t goin’ anywhere either, sugar.’
‘You should get out too, Sheva.’ Damien’s voice floated from the corner of the room. ‘You were manipulated as well.’
Kirivanti shifted in her seat, languid shoulders arched low. ‘I will remain. I will not bring shame upon my family.’
‘Can you make copies of Mathieson’s files?’ Gallows asked. ‘Something happens to us, you’re the only person we can trust.’
Kirivanti nodded.
‘Settled then,’ said Valentine. ‘Sit tight ’til mornin’. Hope y’all know how to play Coxswain’s Bluff.’
A Siren, a soldier, a Hunter, a pair of musicians and whatever the hell Damien was. A weird crew to belong to, true, but Serena was never one for conformity. We can win this. All of us together, we can win this. After that, I’ll take my chances with the singer.
All she had to do was survive the night.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sweat clung to Tiera’s face as the RSF finisa swept the hood away.
Her arms were bound behind a chair. She struggled and barked, her guard leaping back across the room.
That made her warm.
Her cell gleamed like the flat of a knife and smelled of disinfectant. Quick to clean up what goes on in here. The door ahead of her slid open. A strong-looking woman in a pristine RSF uniform walked in. Tiera knew her.
‘Rowena Lockwood.’ Tiera did a poor job of concealing the hate in her voice. ‘Pirate hunter.’
‘Once upon a time,’ said Lockwood. ‘And you are Tiera Martelo. Pirate pardoned for services during the war, former Raincatcher—and now, wanted terrorist, conspirator and murderer.’
Tiera’s mouth snapped at her, but Lockwood didn’t flinch. In fact, she took a seat in front of her.
‘I want to discuss the story Tyson Gallows peddled after he rescued you.’
‘The Hunter did not rescue me.’
Lockwood waved a hand. ‘Put your pride aside. He said you were manipulated by pharmaceutical means—mind control.’
Tiera angled her chin up at the woman. She couldn’t read her. Screw it. ‘It’s true. Are we done?’
‘My orders are to arrest you and hand you over to Confessor Cronin.’
‘Then do it!’ she snapped.
Another soldier came in, a younger woman. ‘Ma’am!’
Lockwood didn’t take her eyes from Tiera. ‘I’m busy, Specialist Lestra.’
‘It’s important, Ma’am. General N’Keres is coming aboard.’
And there was the chink in Lockwood’s armour. Just for a moment, alarm shone in her eyes.
‘That’ll be all, Specialist.’
‘Ma’am.’ Lestra disappeared.
‘Something’s brewing.’ Tiera’s voice spilled like poured whisky. ‘Your military seeing you for the curs you are?’
‘I’m not the one chained like an animal.’
Tiera screamed, saliva bubbling over her lip. Again, Lockwood didn’t flinch.
‘According to Phadros, you had no criminal record before taking up arms with Helena tal Ventris. Going from a nun-in-training to a sky pirate is quite the leap. You burned down your monastery, stole to survive.’
Tiera’s skin turned cold. ‘I am not explaining my actions to you.’
‘The priest’s son abused you. Abused all of the sisters. I’ve seen your brands.’
Tiera spat.
‘I understand. Where else could a girl branded as property of the Fayth go? Datthias-’
‘Don’t say his name!’
The overhead lighting buzzed. From within the walls, hydraulics pumped and hissed. ‘Very well. No-one would take you in, even if you told them what he’d done to you. No-one would risk his wrath. You must have been desperate.’
‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘Because I don’t think you’re the fearsome warrior you wish the world to believe you are. In fact, I wish to help you.’
‘Piss on you.’
Lockwood’s face creased, light glistening on her perfect teeth. ‘Ah yes, there’s the Scourge of the Phadril Sea, there’s Tiera Martelo! Only, “Tiera” isn’t your real name. Is it—Yulia?’
Serena reckoned she should sleep while she had the chance, but her mind refused to relax. Kirivanti dozed in her chair, waking every ten minutes in alarm.
4.a.m. The Info Towers lay dormant at this time of night, but that didn’t mean the predators had stopped prowling. Soon the sun would edge up above the Steelpeaks. With luck, she’d be sailing into the sky along with it.
She lay sprawled across the leather couch, face buried in Mathieson’s notes. Man, some sick stuff went on over there. She couldn’t look at the pictures, and the notes turned her stomach—cool, clinical descriptions of torture and brutal procedures—all told with amused curiosity, like a kid checking out a toy shop. But she forced herself to read—between
Enoch’s story and Gallows talking about huge wolves and snakes, there could be something in here about Sirens, and this could be the last chance she ever got to-
‘I’m not sure you should be reading that.’
Ice washed over Serena. Damien’s voice. She hadn’t heard him come in.
‘Apologies if I startled you.’ His voice was as brittle as Clara’s chocolate squares. He’d changed into proper clothes, high quality gear, but he still looked dishevelled. Blonde stubble flecked his cheeks, and the lines in his face had grown sharp.
‘It’s cool,’ she said, sitting straight. ‘Hey, I didn’t get the chance to thank you for saving me. Enfield would’ve…’
He waved her thanks away and stalked around the room, taking a chair opposite Kirivanti.
Without thinking, Serena inched back.
‘You’ve nothing to fear from me,’ he said.
‘Well, that ain’t strictly true, is it?’
Damien leaned back, shadows playing across his face. ‘No, I suppose not.’
‘Gallows told me… about you. About what happened.’ A breath of wind murmured through the window at Kirivanti’s back. ‘He said you have… Urges. Is that true?’
‘Is it true you are an entity disguised in robes of skin, capable of manipulating a person’s consciousness?’
Serena’s skin burned. She’d overstepped the mark. Still, if she was going to throw her lot in with a psycho killer, she wanted to know about it.
‘There is…’ he started. ‘Something inside me. Something hateful. I believed I had it under control. I was wrong.’
Kirivanti stirred in her seat, wrapping her blanket tight around herself.
The face of the man Serena had tipped over the bridge screamed at her, frozen mid-fall, face stretched in fear. How could anyone enjoy doing that to another person?
‘I… killed someone tonight.’ Admitting it made Serena queasy. ‘He had a razor to my throat. We were on a skybridge, we struggled… He went over. And I know it wasn’t my fault, but… I still feel guilty. I can still see him.’
Damien’s chin dipped. ‘That’s good.’
‘What is?’
‘That you feel guilt.’
The room turned cold. An ignium lamp flickered for a second—its gas would need to be refilled soon.
‘So you don’t feel guilty about the coppers you killed at the opera house?’
‘Had they caught you, you’d be dead. Tyson too. No, Serena, I do not feel guilty.’
How could someone so refined and poised enjoy killing? How did someone do that without remorse? How many people did you need to kill before that sense of humanity washed off? ‘So,’ she began, terrified to hear the answer, ‘what’s stopping you from killing all of us?’
Damien turned to look at her, and his answer chilled her. ‘Nothing.’
Whether through fear or something else, Serena didn’t dare move.
‘But that’s true of everyone, is it not?’ Damien suggested. ‘Look at this city. See how deep its corruption is rooted. Madmen yearn for war, profit from death.’ The corners of his mouth turned down. ‘Other men revel in their lust, blind to the damage it causes. Is anyone ever truly safe?’
Unease gnawed at her. Wasn’t it true that Enfield’s homeless network had tracked her down without her knowing? ‘Why do you like it so much?’
Damien looked past her, staring off into some unknown horizon. For a split second, Serena thought she saw him smile. ‘There is nothing quite like it—that sense of power when the last breath is squeezed out, when eyes shine their last. That moment is… Exquisite. The Nyr-az-Telun nurture that desire. They’re fanatics, you see. Formed after the Gods drove the Orinul from the world to protect the realms of humankind, should the demons ever return. The Fayth claim they disbanded these demon slayers centuries ago. A lie. They lived on, operating in secret. We were based in a place known as the Solacewood. For years we lived there, trained there. Cleric Adravan presented us with killers, brigands, defilers. He promised them salvation if they repented and gave themselves to Aerulus the One Father—but his salvation came in the form of a blade. They encouraged their disciples to view their targets not as human.
‘But that was in direct opposition to my desires. And it was easy to justify slaughter when the men pleading were murderers and predators.’
‘So, it’s for religion?’
‘I care nothing for the Fayth, but I carried out their orders with a joy I had never known. Adravan schooled us in martial arts, weapons training. He taught us how to meditate, how to slow our heartbeats and listen to others’. He taught us how to sharpen every sense, know every molecule of ourselves.’ He turned his face to Serena. ‘I can hear the breaths of every person in this building. When I am on a rooftop, I can calculate every conceivable variable of my environment in an instant. I know everything about my body, my mind—my spirit. I can survive extreme temperatures by regulating my body heat with nothing more than a thought. I can analyse an opponent for a moment and divine his every weakness.
‘Once, I was tasked with assassinating a target. When he lunged for me, I didn’t move a muscle—I knew a heart attack would kill him before he got close.’ Damien turned his face away. ‘In short, Serena, I am a monster.’
Serena swallowed. ‘Why did you leave?’
‘Adravan lied. He told us the Fayth Collegium stationed him in the Solacewood with orders to recruit new followers. In fact, the Church had excommunicated him. He was training disciples of his own, to one day challenge the Church, and the Fayth itself.’
‘You didn’t want to join him?’
‘I cared nothing for his futile endeavour. He branded me a heretic for my betrayal. Ordered the others to kill me.’
‘What happened?’
Damien took his time in answering, the glow of the stuttering ignium lamp casting fire on him. ‘They failed. I travelled for a time, utilising the skills I had learned in my years of tutelage. I was tired of snow and rain; I am from Kvel, a coastal village. I decided I would see the sun. I wound up in Dalthea. By then, the Idari empire’s intentions had been made clear—it was not difficult to find work. One day I was ordered to neutralise a Dalthean prisoner of war named Tyson Gallows. The Council feared he would release sensitive information.’
Serena didn’t know what to say—was she looking to feel better for killing someone? She busied herself by scanning the pages of the notes everyone was so excited about. She didn’t look at Damien when she asked, ‘So why didn’t you kill him?’
‘Tyson is troubled. But he is a good man. We escaped the clutches of the Idari, but by then it was too late. Our fleet burned, our harbours devastated. We were lucky not to get caught in the ignogen bomb’s blast radius.
‘When Tyson found out Sera had perished, he took his sword and ran towards the skyport, determined to steal an airship and fly to Idaris to slaughter each and every one of them. A death wish—and one he very nearly succeeded on making true.’
Horrible pictures in the file stared back at Serena. She flipped the page. ‘You stopped him?’
‘Yes. And he has resented me ever since.’
Kirivanti muttered something in her sleep.
‘I should complete another patrol.’ Damien got up and stepped towards the door.
‘Sure.’ Serena thumbed to another page in the files. Belios, this place is messed up-
A name jumped out at her. ‘Holy shit.’
‘What?’ asked Damien.
‘Catryn. Sister Catryn! She’s a nun in the orphanage but her name’s here. Look, it even says “Catryn ended up in that pitiful orphanage”. It has to be her.’ Serena handed Damien the notebook.
‘Third day of Terros,’ he read. ‘…Catryn took holy orders… Catryn’s Lightning Harness…’ He handed the notebook back. ‘It seems your Sister Catryn worked in the outpost for a time.’
‘She’s in danger! Gallows said everyone else in Outpost One Three Seven is dead.’ Serena sprung from the couch. ‘I, I have to war
n her!’
‘You cannot put yourself at risk.’
‘If Thackeray’s tying up loose ends-’
‘You must remain here.’
She balled her fists. ‘I’m not letting anyone else die for me.’
‘Then I’ll speak to Tyson. Tomorrow, we-’
‘It’ll be too late by then.’ Serena froze. ‘You. You can go. You can sneak into the orphanage and get her.’
Damien’s eyes narrowed. ‘No.’
‘Please.’
‘Serena, do not ask me again.’
‘You managed to sneak into an auditorium full of thousands of people. If anyone can get into the orphanage, it’s you.’
Damien retreated. ‘I will risk the lives-’
‘Catryn could have information! She could prove these diaries ain’t just the ramblings of a maniac! Listen—you could’ve killed Tyson Gallows. You could’ve killed any one of us by now if you really wanted to. You’re not gonna get over yourself if you don’t do anything about it. ’
Damien’s eyes glistened but no tears fell. ‘You don’t understand.’
Serena couldn’t believe what she was hearing. ‘You’re not the only person who’s scared, alright? You think I ain’t terrified of what I might be? You said it yourself: Corruption and murder are everywhere. Catryn can make it right. She can testify, prove that Thackeray’s a traitor.’
‘“Do not be overcome by sin, but overcome sin with good,”’ came Kirivanti’s voice. ‘The Fayth Codex, Book of Aerulus. A favourite of my father’s. I believe one is not defined by that which plagues him. Prove my belief in you is not misplaced, Damien.’
Damien looked at her with red-rimmed eyes.
‘Yeah, well, I’m not religious,’ said Serena, ‘but what she said.’
For a long moment, Damien didn’t speak. Then he nodded. ‘I’ll ensure Catryn’s safety. But if I fail, do not come after us.’
‘You won’t fail,’ said Kirivanti.
Serena breathed for what felt like the first time in months. ‘Listen, she has a bad leg. You’ll need to help her move. If anyone sees you-’
‘They won’t.’
‘Rigged the main entrance with a few surprises,’ said Valentine. ‘Flash bombs, nothing lethal. Your partner’s got some devious tricks up his sleeve.’
Symphony of the Wind Page 50
