Crucible Zero (9 page)

“Some never stopped making regrettable choices. Do you know who killed your parents, Matilda?” Quinten asked.

Everything in me went sick and hot. “Did you?” I whispered to Abraham.

“No.”

Quinten didn't say anything, but the hatred radiating off him was a heat wave. “Only the galvanized attacked that road. Only the galvanized dragged the living off to House Fire and House Water. Who else would you like me to blame, Abraham?”

“Those who are responsible,” Abraham said. “Those who ordered the caravan to be stopped and seized. Those who ordered the innocent people brought in for experimental treatment.”

“You killed innocent people.”

“
I
,” Abraham said, “was not there. There was only one galvanized on the road that day, and he belonged to House Fire.”

Quinten stood at his full height, his hand cocked back in a fist. The brother I knew would ask who was that galvanized. The brother I knew would put his anger aside and deal with facts before he took action.

This brother, this Quinten, swung and hit Abraham square in the jaw, knocking the bigger man back a step. Quinten pulled his gun before Abraham had a chance to return the blow.

I jumped in between them, pushing them apart, my back to Abraham as I shoved on Quinten's chest, forcing him to walk back and back.

“Lying stitch!” he spat over my shoulder.

“That's enough,” I said.

Quinten made a move to push past me, but I grabbed his arm and pulled, halting him in his tracks.

Like I said, I am a very strong girl.

He half spun on his foot and squared to me, and I yanked the gun out of his hand.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Abraham was standing, arms crossed over his chest, head tipped down, eyeing Quinten over Neds, who was standing in front of him.

Foster stood to one side and behind Abraham, chewing on his apple and looking positively unconcerned about the entire situation.

“Let go of me now,” Quinten snapped.

“So you can get yourself killed?” I said. “I don't think so. You are picking a fight with a galvanized, Quinten. If Abraham wanted to, he could crush you with one hand.”

“He killed them!”

“He said he wasn't there.”

“You believe him? You believe
that
monster over me?”

“I don't think any one of us is a monster here. They died years ago, Quinten. Instead of blaming the first stitched who walks into our house, I'd like to find out who really did it.”

I kept my hand around his wrist. He wasn't pulling against me, but that was no guarantee that he wouldn't lunge at Abraham the first chance he got.

“Who killed them?” I asked Abraham. “Do you know?”

“The order to stop that caravan didn't go through Coal and Ice,” he said. “The roadside attacks were never vetted with Binek.”

“Who's Binek?” At this rate, even I was getting tired of how many questions I still didn't have answers to.

“The man who runs Coal and Ice,” Abraham said.

“The man who sends mercenaries out on jobs for the Houses?”

“Jobs for anyone who can pay,” Abraham said. “Yes.”

“Then who do you think was staging the road attacks?”

“Slater,” Foster breathed.

“Bullshit,” Quinten said. “How convenient that the man who wants our head—the man you were recently working for, I'll remind you—is the one you want us to think killed our parents. Our friends.”

“Do you have proof?” I asked.

Abraham took a breath. The look he gave Foster was pointed. I didn't think he had wanted Foster to call Slater out by name.

Interesting. So Abraham and Foster might have another angle on this game, maybe even another reason for wanting to go with Quinten and me to House Earth.

It was starting to be very difficult to decide just who I should really trust in this world.

But my gut said Abraham wasn't playing us, or at least he wasn't playing us with an intent to harm us. Of course, that could just be old love getting in the way of my logical mind.

“Proof?” I asked again.

Abraham shook his head. “Nothing you'd believe. Nothing on me. But it is true. I give you my word, Matilda Case. Slater culled those caravans, and the people he pulled out of them have never been heard from again.”

“Only House Earth people?”

He hesitated just slightly. “Yes.”

Something wasn't lining up, but I didn't know what it was. “Okay, here's the deal. I still want Slater dead. More dead if he really was the one who killed my parents and the people in House Earth. You,” I said to Quinten, “need to decide how you're going to deal with this. Either we travel with Abraham and Foster and use their connections, like you told me you wanted to, or we cut here and go our separate ways.”

“I don't have to do what you—”

“You do,” I interrupted. “You have to do what I tell you to do. This is not a democracy, brother. I'm taking over. At least until we get to House Earth. You need to tell me if you can keep your fists and bullets to yourself for the rest of this trip.”

“Why,” he bit off, “should I?”

I shook my head. “I don't know. Is it worth the information you want them to give to you?”

Quinten's eyes narrowed. I watched as the gloss of rage slipped sideways into something that might not quite be sanity, but could be sanity adjacent.

He nodded. “There are . . . things that only a galvanized connected to Coal and Ice would know. Things that would help us destroy Slater.”

I held eye contact with him, watching to see if the crazy came creeping back. “Then we travel together. And leave the past in the past.”

“I can't do that. I won't.”

“I don't care. You have to, at least temporarily.” I released his arm, then walked toward Abraham.

Neds, who had been uncharacteristically quiet through this exchange, his back toward me and Quinten as he stood in front of Abraham, had a gun in his hand.

“Neds,” I said. “I appreciate you not firing on them while I worked this out. Am I going to get flak from you about me calling the shots?”

“Near as I can tell, you're just doing what we'd planned on anyway,” Right Ned said. “Isn't that right, Quinten Case?” he called back over his shoulder.

Quinten dragged his hand up into his hair and tugged on it. Then he walked stiffly toward us. “That is correct. We have a long way to go,” he said, looking only at me. “We should leave.”

“Abraham, Foster,” I said, “are we settled, then? Or would you like us to drop you off somewhere suitable between here and House Earth?”

“There is no place suitable,” Abraham said. He was watching me again, like he thought I might not be someone he should trust, which was weird, since I'd just stood up to my brother to keep him from being accused of something he said he didn't do.

“What I told your brother is the truth,” Abraham said. “I didn't kill your parents.”

“I'm willing to let that question lay fallow for a while, if you don't mind,” I said.

“Thank you.”

“I didn't say I believed you.”

“You didn't say you didn't.”

“Then it's settled. You're with us for the ride. Please keep your hands to yourself. Both of you,” I said, with a nod toward Foster.

Foster lifted his chin. He jerked his head to scan the road down the way we'd come.

Abraham sucked in a quick breath, gaze intent in the same direction. Both men stood as if someone had just cranked their spines tight as catgut on a guitar.

“What?” I asked.

“Engines,” Foster breathed.

I held my breath. Listened. Heard nothing. “I thought you said the mercenaries would return to Coal and Ice and stop hunting us.”

“One thing you should know about mercenaries, Matilda,” Abraham said. “None of us follow rules.”

“Get on the bus,” I said. “Neds, are we fueled up?”

“We're good to go. Backup tanks too.”

“Then let's get moving.” I got three steps toward the bus.

*   *   *

My gut twisted. Dizziness washed over me, bringing the stench of roses.
No. Not now.
I didn't have time for this now.

The world whisked away, taking the bus, my brother, farmhand, and galvanized with it.

I stood in front of a concrete building that looked like a storage shed. There was no road, though I could hear the hum of cars moving along a highway in the distance, and saw the glint of the local speed tube in the sunlight.

“Where is it?” Slater demanded.

I turned on my bootheel.

He wore the same dark blue suit with a black shirt beneath that he'd been wearing the last time the world had spun and he'd threatened me. He strode my way, a gun in his hand, pointed at me.

Holy shit.

I backed up, my hands out to the side.

“Where is the machine?”

“I don't know what you're talking about,” I said.

“The Wings of Mercury. You have it. You've hidden it,” he shouted. “You or your brother. You
Cases
,” he spat, “will not control time. Only I will live forever. Not you. Not any of you!”

Raging madman with a gun. Apparently, Slater was an asshole in every timeway.

“Slater,” I said, “listen to me. I don't control time. I don't have the machine. It was destroyed back in the 1900s. I don't know what the hell you're talking about.”

“Time,” Slater said as if that explained everything. “These timeways are not random. And you are in every one of them. Something must be controlling it. A piece of the machine . . . It's impossible, but the Wings of Mercury must still exist. What part of it did you keep? How did you keep it?” he yelled. “Is it your brother? Does he have a piece of the machine? I can kill him, you know. In every timeway. And I will.”

“We don't have anything,” I said. “I'm not controlling this. Quinten doesn't even know about the machine. You can't kill him in this timeway. He's already dead.”

He shook the gun to include the world around us. “I will stop this. I will break this. I will crush you into dust, Matilda Case.”

He squeezed the trigger.

I screamed as the red-hot pain of a bullet slammed through me just below my left collarbone.

Pain flashed through my muscles and nerves, hitting so hard, I couldn't breathe.

Then the world stuttered and swirled away from beneath my feet into the scent of roses and the distant hum of a bell.

*   *   *

I inhaled on a sharp breath, swallowing air against a second scream.

Slater was gone. The storage shed was gone. I drew my fingers up to my chest. There was no blood, no hole, no bullet.

I wasn't in that timeway, and I wasn't wounded.

Shit. Shitshitshit.

I bit my lip to keep the panic behind my teeth. Switching times wasn't making any of this easier.

“Hurry.” Left Ned jogged past me and quickly climbed behind the driver's seat.

I looked around, trying to ground myself in this now. Still on the rise. Still outside our vehicle. Still had mercenaries coming after us.

Foster and Abraham strode up and into the vehicle, Foster pressing his huge hand on my shoulder in comfort as he passed.

We had to get going. Now.

I glanced back, suddenly afraid my brother wouldn't be there behind me.

My heart thumped hard, then settled into a more normal rhythm. He stood there, whole and alive.

“Quinten,” I said, finally getting my brain in the right gear. “We need to go. Right now.”

He dropped the binoculars and strode toward the bus, not looking at me. “Take the south fork,” he said to Neds. “There should be decent cover if we're followed. Unless you'd rather pick our way across the countryside too, Matilda?”

What was his problem? Oh, right. I'd just told him I was making the decisions.

“We don't have time for your hurt feelings,” I said, following him into the bus. “If you say the south fork is the way to go, then that's good enough for me. Neds, go.”

I closed the side door behind me. Neds started the engine, which coughed and died and sputtered, and made me wonder if I should take up praying.

Then the engine caught and smoothed out. He released the clutch and got us back on the road, rolling down the other side of Cooper's Ridge.

“Can we tap into the radio towers?” I asked.

I sat a couple seats behind Neds, and Quinten sat across from me. Abraham had walked into the back of the vehicle and was standing there, watching the road behind us out the small double windows. Foster was sitting near the back. He had pulled a heavy leather duffel out from under one of the seats and was methodically withdrawing weapons from it.

I was pretty sure he was humming a song about the harvest moon shining on a pair of young lovers.

“Tap in?” Quinten asked.

“Do you have a battery? A mobile radio unit that can tap the towers?”

“If we had to, yes,” he said. “But there's no one out here. Not for the next hundred miles.”

“But if we needed help?”

“Matilda,” he said, and tugged his hair, then wiped his hand down his face. “Right now if we called for help, the only folk who would answer are the Grubens. And by the time they got out here, whatever we needed help with would be over.”

“They've made us,” Abraham said.

The pop of gunfire was echoed by the sharp pinging of the metal siding of our vehicle taking the hit.

“Get down! Get down!” I waved at Quinten, but he was not getting down.

So much for me being the boss.

“How many?” he yelled back to Abraham.

“Four I can see.”

“Weapons?” I asked.

Another rattle of bullets peppered the vehicle.

“Guns,” Abraham said unnecessarily.