Zenith Rising

by Gavin Zanker

  His shoulders rose and fell as he surveyed the hushed crowd for a moment. ‘So to business,’ he continued. ‘I stand here today to teach a lesson, as a shepherd guides his flock on the correct path; there are those among you who would work against the truth, who would work to struggle against the light that tries to bathe this city in its purity. I am here to show you what happens to those unenlightened, to those that threaten and undermine me.’

  He turned to the nearby Faithful and nodded. They lifted up a sturdy wooden pole, slotting it into a hole in the stage floor with a solid thud. Then they tossed a rope over the top. Underneath it they placed a barrel. Leigh’s breath caught in her throat; she had seen a hanging before.

  ‘This man here,’ Samuel said, his tone changing as he pointed accusingly at Travis, ‘betrayed my trust. For that, he must pay a price.’

  Samuel’s bodyguards moved towards Travis, causing him to step backwards in surprise. But they brushed past him, instead locking their huge hands around the vacant woman’s scrawny biceps. She didn’t resist. She just kept staring dreamily at the sky as she was firmly pulled out of Travis’ grasp and guided towards the rope.

  ‘No, no, no!’ Travis screamed, his voice rising with panic. ‘Take me instead, no, please, leave Emily alone!’

  ‘But then how would you learn your lesson?’ Samuel asked.

  The woman was lifted effortlessly onto the barrel before the noose was passed around her neck. Still, she didn’t react. The crowd erupted in a mixed cacophony of cheers and angry shouts.

  Faithful guards barred Travis as he struggled towards her, unable to get past them with his crippled arm. ‘How can you do this?’ he pleaded up at Samuel. ‘She’s innocent!’

  ‘No one is innocent, Travis. And I’m not a monster — she might be a woman, but I have no desire to see her hang there and suffocate. Her neck will break from the drop. You should be grateful for this mercy.’

  Leigh eyed the fallen revolver nearby, forgotten about now as people were absorbed by the horrifying spectacle. She crouched down and grasped it.

  ‘Leigh, no!’ Grace hissed, trying to grab her.

  Leigh ignored the reporter and slipped away from her grasp, telling Hitch to stay put as she hurried, unnoticed, along the edge of the agitated crowd. As she came closer to the stage, she dodged past a distracted Faithful guard and, using both arms to lift the weapon, heaved the revolver in an arc towards the stage before slipping back into the crowd.

  Travis spotted the weapon slide across the stage and dived towards it. Pausing for just a second as he spotted Leigh, he turned and levelled the gun towards Samuel.

  He fired.

  One of Samuel’s bodyguards lunged forward, a lick of fire smouldering his shirt as the bullet took him in the chest. Without even flinching, he surged towards Travis with unreal speed.

  Travis sidestepped, firing at Samuel again. And again. One of the bullets caught Samuel’s face, and he dropped below the pulpit. Then the huge bodyguard was on top of Travis, throwing him to the floor with a painful thud, and bending his arm up behind his back until the revolver slipped from his desperate grasp. As the guard knelt on Travis, Leigh saw no blood on his smoking shirt and guessed he must be wearing some kind of armour.

  ‘It’s okay, my love,’ the woman said, looking down from atop the barrel. Travis stopped struggling and stared up at her as he lay pinned against the floor.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said with the little breath he had left. ‘I couldn’t… I can’t…’

  ‘I forgive you,’ she said. A warm smile spread over her face. ‘And I love you. My husband.’

  Travis broke down at her words, his dirty face creasing like old newspaper as tears flooded his cheeks. He tried to speak but the words stuck in his throat.

  Samuel reappeared from behind the pulpit, rising to his full height. He pulled his fingers away from his face, revealing a long gash along his cheek. He studied the blood with confusion before turning his dark glare onto Travis, his eyes bulging with rage. He strode over to the woman and kicked the barrel away with his heel.

  She dropped.

  The sound of her slender neck breaking was like the snap of a chicken’s wishbone. She went limp instantly.

  Samuel marched over to Travis and snatched the revolver up from the floor. ‘Now you’ve watched the bitch die,’ he hissed through gritted teeth. ‘Now you have nothing left. That is the price for betrayal. And this,’ he said, aiming the revolver downwards, ‘is the price for trying to murder me.’

  With Leigh’s ears still ringing, she barely registered the gunshot, though she did hear the wet pop as the bullet entered Travis’ forehead. He made a wheezing sound, his jaw flexing open and closed like a goldfish pulled out of water. Wide eyes moved over the hushed crowd, unseeing. His cheek sank to the wooden stage. He shuddered. Gasped. Then he was still.

  Leigh covered her mouth in the silence that followed. She hadn’t especially liked Travis, but right now she felt like she was going to throw up. She swallowed hard, looking away from his tormented, empty gaze.

  Samuel moved back to the microphone on the podium. ‘This city is mine,’ he said, his voice rising into a piercing shriek. ‘You will obey, or I will destroy each and every one of you as I destroyed this traitor!’

  He lingered for a moment, his bloody cheek twitching violently as he glared across the gathered crowd. His focus settled on Leigh. For a second, she was afraid he might fire at her for helping Travis, but he turned away and stepped down from the pulpit, then the stage, and marched back toward the compound with his bodyguards and Faithful swarming around him like insects, preventing any line of sight that might give a shooter another opportunity.

  So many emotions roiled up inside Leigh that she thought she might explode: anger, sadness, fear. All of them swirling around, trying to force themselves out. Unable to cope, she did the only thing she could and burst into tears. Hitch appeared beside her, pushing her limp hand around with his muzzle. But she didn’t feel him. Then Grace was there, putting an arm over her shoulder. Leigh shrugged it off and half-ran back towards the Brentford, bouncing off people as her tears blinded her.

  CHAPTER 46

  CAPTAIN ELLINGTON, SPRAWLED on the leather sofa in the shadowy rear of the Mayor’s office, recognised the newcomer as a Dawnist immediately; something about the smug expression, and the pressed, khaki-coloured clothes. The man had clearly never known a hard day’s work in his life.

  ‘David Reinhold,’ he said, stepping up to the desk where the Mayor sat. ‘I have a message for you from the Divine Bishop.’

  There was a time when Reinhold would have had the man beaten for breezing into his home and using his name without the proper title. Ellington knew it still rankled him, but the Mayor did his best not to show it; probably guessing that the messenger would report back to Samuel who would no doubt get some sick joy from knowing he squirmed.

  ‘Well let’s hear it then,’ Reinhold snapped. ‘I’m a busy man.’

  The messenger placed a sealed envelope on the desk, just out of reach so that Reinhold had to stand to take it. The Mayor hefted himself out of the chair, glaring with a dangerous light in his eyes. He slit the envelope with his antique letter opener, a relic of the old world, and scanned the letter. Even from across the room, Ellington could see the handwriting was immaculate. ‘He wants a meeting?’

  ‘That’s correct. He has a few questions for you, as I understand.’

  ‘Well he knows where I am. All he has to do is walk on over here.’

  ‘He shall arrange the details, I’m sure. I was also ordered to give you this gift,’ the man said, pulling a cloth-wrapped bundle from his pocket and placing it on the polished surface of the desk. With that, the Dawnist nodded, turned on his heel, and strode from the room.

  Reinhold slid the package towards himself and unfolded the cloth. He hung his head and sighed. ‘Captain?’

  ‘Yes, Mayor?’ Ellington said, sitting up straight, knowing that tone meant he was in for a dress
ing down of godly proportions.

  ‘Come here,’ Reinhold said, beckoning with his finger. The Captain walked over to the desk, feeling the same confusion and dread as a schoolboy being called to the headmaster’s office. ‘What’s this?’ Reinhold asked, gesturing to the unwrapped revolver sitting on the desk.

  ‘It’s a gun.’

  ‘That’s correct. And do you recognise it?’

  ‘It looks like… wait, how did…?’ Ellington frowned, unsure how the hitman’s revolver had found its way here.

  ‘That’s right, Captain. This is the weapon you gave to our contact, isn’t it? Now what possible reason could Samuel have for sending me this specific revolver? Could it be that you messed up and hired a rust-licking, Echo-head nobody who botched the job and sang at the first chance he got?’

  The Captain stared at the weapon, a sheen of sweat standing out on his forehead. He became aware of the glint of bullets in the chambers of the firearm. ‘I don’t know, Mayor.’

  ‘You don’t know,’ the Mayor repeated, his voice dripping with unrestrained disgust. ‘Get out of my sight, Captain. If you’re going to be so useless, I’ll find someone else who can actually do your job.’

  Ellington left the office, his cheeks burning with shame. He knew he shouldn’t have hired that sketchy guy just because he was cheap; he was a criminal and a junkie layabout. Ellington stalked down the hallway, lashing out at a vase on a pedestal and shattering it into a hundred pieces on the floor. He stared at the destruction, but it didn’t make him feel any better.

  He carried on down the hallway, passing the open door of Catherine’s tiny office where she did her filing and accounting. Catching a glimpse of her sat behind her desk, he decided to go in, letting the door swing open slowly.

  ‘Oh it’s you, Reese,’ she said, briefly glancing up at him. ‘I wondered what that noise was. I’m a little busy here.’

  Ellington didn’t say a word as he stood in the doorway. His gaze moved from her strong cheekbones, down the curve of her slender neck, coming to rest on the outline of her breasts showing through her loose cardigan.

  ‘What do you want, Reese?’ she asked, a mixture of irritation and concern in her voice. ‘I’d appreciate it if you stopped staring at me.’

  Ellington took a step into her office and clicked the door shut behind him.

  She must have seen something in his expression because she jumped to her feet, immediately alert. ‘Don’t come any closer,’ she warned, brandishing her pen as if it were a weapon. ‘I’m warning you.’

  ‘Oh, Catherine,’ he said, drifting towards her. ‘Why do you fight me? Can’t you see that we belong together? You deserve so much better than that vile husband of yours.’

  ‘Stay back,’ she said, the back of her heel striking against a filing cabinet.

  Ellington reached out for her but she batted his hand away. Anger surged through him. Who was she to deny his advances? Why couldn’t she see that he cared about her? His hand snaked out and clamped around her wrist.

  ‘Reese!’ she gasped as he pulled her close to him. ‘You’re hurting me!’

  ‘We’re going to be together, Catherine. You will love me.’ He moved his head down to kiss her, his free arm encircling her waist. Something sharp, like a hornet sting, pierced his shoulder. He flinched away to find her pen sticking into his flesh just above his collar bone. ‘You bitch!’ he hissed before backhanding her across the face.

  She fell sideways onto her desk, papers scattering over the floor. He tore the pen from his shoulder and threw it against the wall where it shattered, sending intricate splatters of ink everywhere.

  She continued to struggle as he put his hands on her, until he had to cover her mouth to stop her shrieking. He didn’t care anymore. She’d rejected him for the last time.

  The door burst open, interrupting them.

  Ellington looked up to see two of the house servants, cooks he thought, though he could never tell them all apart. ‘Get out,’ he growled.

  The men looked to Catherine as she sobbed. ‘You can’t do that,’ one of them said.

  ‘Yeah, just let her go.’

  ‘Who are you two to order me around? Do you understand what I could do to you?’ Their faces twisted uncomfortably, knowing he was right, but still, they didn’t relent. Instead they stepped into the office, squaring up to him. ‘Turn around, and get out,’ Ellington said, seething. ‘Or I’ll have your homes burned down while your families sleep inside.’

  Catherine took the opportunity to strike at his head with a hole punch she had snatched from the desk. Twisting out of his grasp, she bolted for the door, slipping past the two men and out into the hallway.

  ‘You’ve made a huge mistake,’ Ellington roared, putting a hand to his bloodied head. ‘Especially you, you bitch!’ he screeched after Catherine.

  The men backed out of the room, their faces painted with judgement. They pushed the door shut and left him alone.

  Ellington felt all of his frustration and rage bubble over. He slammed his fists against the desk, toppling the filing cabinets, tossing anything he could get his hands on.

  The world blurred a deep shade of red.

  By the time he regained control, Catherine’s office looked like a whirlwind had passed through it. As he stood there panting, he watched a drip of blood fall from his head, staining a sheet of pristine, white paper on the floor. A second followed, then a third.

  Standing there in that office, his anger spent, he suddenly felt empty. And alone. Completely alone.

  CHAPTER 47

  BACK IN THE Brentford, Leigh leaned back against one of the dancing poles on stage as Hitch tugged on the knotted length of rope she held. Grace sat at one of the tables nearby, still trying to explain to Julian and Orlen what had happened to Travis. Leigh hadn’t seen Zachary today, but that was fine by her. The strange note she had found in his room was still burning a hole in her pocket, but until Aiden or Woody got back, she was keeping it to herself; she didn’t trust anyone here enough to share her secret.

  ‘I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it myself,’ Grace said.

  ‘Killing your own man in cold blood,’ Orlen said, shaking his head. ‘And in front of an audience? That’s damn low.’

  ‘He wasn’t Samuel’s man anymore,’ Julian said. ‘Me and Travis may not have seen eye to eye, but even I could tell he wanted to work with us against the Dawnists.’

  ‘Either way, he was just trying to survive,’ Grace said flatly, staring down at the table. ‘He did what he had to; the same thing any one of us would have done in the same situation. I just can’t understand the cruelty that Samuel inflicted on him because of it.’

  ‘Who was the woman?’ Leigh asked. ‘I heard her name was Emily but I didn’t recognise her.’

  ‘You were there?’ Orlen asked, his bushy eyebrows rising.

  Leigh nodded. She wished she hadn’t been.

  ‘She darted out to Oldtown when she heard the commotion,’ Grace said. She gave Leigh a stern look. ‘Emily is… was… Travis’ wife.’

  ‘Oh,’ Leigh said in a monotone, not taking her eyes from Hitch. ‘Why did Samuel kill her if he was mad at Travis?’

  ‘To hurt him,’ Julian said with a snarl, banging his fist on the table. ‘To make him suffer.’

  An uncomfortable tension fell over the room. Even the guards at the door, usually sharing a joke or a drink, were silent.

  Leigh hated it. She threw the chewed rope past a few slot machines for Hitch to bound after, his paws almost scratching the wooden stage. ‘How did Travis get back into the city though? What happened to the others at the quarry?’

  ‘We don’t know, Leigh,’ Grace said.

  Leigh bit her lip. ‘Do you think Aiden is okay?’

  ‘We don’t know!’ Julian snapped. ‘Stop asking pointless questions all the time!’

  ‘Steady,’ Grace said, ‘she’s just a girl.’

  The ferocity of Julian’s response surprised Leigh. She’d never
done anything to him, what right did he have to be angry at her? ‘So what now?’ she asked, scowling in his direction. ‘What’s your next plan, oh great Syndicate leader?’

  ‘There are no more plans.’

  ‘Come on, Julian,’ Grace said, an edge creeping into her voice. ‘Don’t start this, not now.’

  ‘Well, what do you suggest? We’ve lost contact with our squad in the south, they’re probably dead for all we know; Samuel has the city on lockdown; and Travis was just publically executed! We’re all out of options. I think it’s near time to pack up and leave town.’

  ‘Don’t say that, you don’t know they’re dead!’ Leigh said, her shaky tone betraying her anxiety. ‘Aiden’s too smart to get killed by some stupid Dawnists. If you knew him at all then you’d know that. And he’s with Woody.’ She pouted miserably. ‘Can’t we go south and look for them?’

  ‘With no idea where they are, we’d just end up wandering in circles,’ Orlen said.

  ‘I’m sorry, Leigh,’ Grace said, shooting her a weak smile.

  Zachary entered the casino from the street, squeezing past the barricade. He strolled over, looking too happy and winking at Leigh as he passed. She suppressed a shudder. ‘Any news since the, er, public display?’ he asked, taking a seat next to Grace.

  Julian shook his head. ‘Nothing yet.’

  ‘What a show, eh?’ Zachary said. No one responded. ‘Well it’s not the end of the world, is it?’

  Just as Leigh was about to tell him it was, that it was the end of her world, the door leading into the back of the Brentford swung open and Aiden walked in with Woody. Energy surged through her, lifting her to her feet. She ran, flying across the room and wrapping her arms around Aiden. ‘Everyone said you were dead,’ she said, tears spilling from her eyes.

  He scooped her up, patting her back as her feet dangled above the floor. ‘Not yet, not yet. You doing okay?’

  She nodded into his shoulder, his wiry beard scratching the side of her head. It had been weeks since she had seen him, and she didn’t care how scruffy he looked or how badly he smelled. She felt like she’d just found a part of herself she hadn’t realised was missing. She wanted this completeness to last forever, but he put her down and fussed at Hitch who ran around his muddy boots, jumping up at them both, tail wagging.