Distant Star (15 page)

The cruiser took off above the
city, no doubt on a flight path to the affluent western quarters and the launch
complex capable of sending a ship to Starhold—a fitting name for the
Forgetful prison because it hung in orbit one hundred and fifty miles above
Ascension City. Fighting the fatigue, I hadn’t given up just yet, but escape
was unlikely.
Escape into what? A city that
hates you.

Coming back had been a mistake,
of course, but it was the only move I’d had left to make. Staying away, staying
out, as Marcus had urged, was pure folly. Survival lay in action—not in a
dusty bookshop, talking to story characters only I could see. Perhaps I was
mad. The thought had occurred to me more than once.

I banged on the panel which
separated my cage from the cockpit. “What say we swing by Mickey-D’s and get
some chicken nuggets?”

No response. With another yawn, I
sat down and rested my head on my knees, trying to lessen the strain on my side
from the tightly drawn cuffs. At some point, I must have drifted off to sleep,
because I was suddenly jolted awake by the bump of the cruiser landing.

The door slid open on silent
hydraulic hinges, and bright sunlight filled my holding cage. I squinted
against the glare to allow my eyes to adjust, but I already knew something
wasn’t right.

We’d not arrived at the Starhold
processing complex. We were not even in Ascension City. We had landed on the banks
of Lake Delgado, thirty miles from the sprawling metropolis. Slick rifles in
hand, my pilots stood dark and imposing against a backdrop of snow-capped
mountains and a glittering, silver lake.

Two quick thoughts came to me: I
was either being rescued or murdered, more likely the latter, given my current
track record back here in Forget. One of the masked pilots stepped toward me
and pulled the cover from his face.

From
her
face.

“You almost look surprised, Hale.”

Clare Valentine produced a key
and unlocked the star cuffs.

“What can I say?” I asked. “High treason against the crown suits
you, sweet thing.”

Clare took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “You’re too pretty
for Starhold. They’ll eat you alive up there.”

Was Clare a part of
Faraday’s unseen plan?
I honestly hoped not, but this escape seemed far too easy.
Still, escape it was—and without any bloodshed.

Small mercies.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lonely
Tonight

The other pilot removed his
helmet and offered me a sly grin.

“Ethan?” Now I was surprised. “Oh,
come on. Really?”

Ethan drew a pack of cigarettes
from the pocket on his chest armor and lit up using a Willful thought. He took
a long drag. “Hey, boss.”

“What are you doing here?” No,
poor question. “How did you… do any of this?”

“The kid here jumped at the
chance to journey to Forget,” Clare said.

“Half a week ago you knew nothing
about this world. Now you’re flying Starhold cruisers?”

He shrugged. “Miss Valentine did
most of that. I just… wore the uniform.”

“Come on, time for this later.”
Clare gazed up at the sky. “If they don’t already know you’re missing, they
will soon. I disabled the tracking beacon in the wagon to buy us some time.”

Clare set off at a steady pace
along the shores of the lake, her boots crunching squeaky sand underfoot. Ethan
stamped out his cigarette and took off after her. I followed at the rear,
wincing as every step pulled at my stitches.

“I take it you have a plan?”

“A plan?” Clare asked, glancing
over her shoulder. She stuck her tongue out at me. “No, I thought I’d make this
up as I go along. You know, the Declan Hale special.”

“There’s a method to my madness.”

“That remains to be seen.”

“Sophie’s here,” Ethan said.
“With the big fella and the… other big fella. Marcus and Aaron.”

“I’m liking this more and more,”
I said. “Are we heading to his villa?”

Without looking back, Clare
nodded. “Marc’s waiting for us with a boat just around the bend in the
shoreline up ahead. He’ll take us across the lake.”

Across the water, nestled between
two mountains, was the town of Farvale. A mini-city, really, half-buried inside
a pine forest. A long time ago, before I’d met Tal, Clare and I had snuck away
from the Academy on a weekend and had gotten stupid drunk in that town. A lot
of the recruits did—when we needed to get away from Ascension City and
the Academy’s brutal training regime.

How times change. Farvale was
home to about twenty thousand people, if memory served. A good place to hide
for a day or so, just on the outskirts in Aaron’s home.

Marcus was waiting for us in an
idling speedboat, a sleek silver craft with a sharp nose and matte finish. We
splashed into the shallows and scurried aboard the vessel. The large man nodded
at me once before gunning the throttle and launching the boat across the water.
The boat ran swift and true as Marcus guided it along the outer rim of the
lake.

Allowing myself a moment to rest
properly, I held my head in one hand and my side with the other. No one spoke
on the quick voyage. Marcus veered well to the right of Farvale. We passed
other pleasure craft and tried to attract as little notice as possible.
Something about the ease of my escape nagged at the back of my mind, but
regardless, I expected to see those old familiar
Wanted
posters before too long.

Marcus shot straight for a small
but homely-looking row of villas on the eastern shore of Delgado. He eased off
on the throttle as we approached a private dock and came to a dead stop
alongside the pier. Tying off the boat, we stepped ashore.

A majestic and proud hawk landed
on my shoulder. The bird was mindful of its claws. “Chester,” I said, greeting
an old friend. “You been taking care of Aaron?” Clare and Ethan took off while
I waited for Marcus to finish powering down the boat. Perhaps they sensed the
same thing I did—that the giant man was pissed.

All seven feet of him hit the
jetty hard and advanced on me.

Marcus grasped my arm and pulled
me one staggering step to the side. Chester took flight with an indignant
squawk.

“What do
you think you’re doing?” I asked.

“I warned you to stay away, to
let it alone. And now look? It’s you, Hale. It is always you. They follow you
because you promise such… such
wonder
.
You promise adventure in return for such cruel, bitter loyalty. And they end up
dying for you!”

“I didn’t ask you to pull me out
of the fire, friend.”

“I am not your friend. I’ve kept
an eye on you during your exile, making sure you didn’t do anything stupid… but
here we are again. You are going to get Sophie
and
Ethan
and
Clare
killed.” He shook his head. “And what’s worse is they don’t see it. The poison
you carry.”

Trust Marcus, until he gives you a reason not to…
A dead man had told me that, on the floor of my shop.

“We can’t allow Morpheus
Renegade—or Faraday—to seize what’s in Atlantis. I don’t know how,
but I think they’ve figured out how to get at it.” I rubbed at my stinging
side. “It’s why Tal and I did what we did, Marc. The Degradation. Why the
better option was to let the Reach burn along with half of Ascension City.
Genocide
was better than letting anyone
seize what we found in Atlantis.”

“What could possibly be so
important?”

A ghost of a smile flickered
across my face. “The Infernal Clock.”

*~*~*~*

Dusk fell over Lake Delgado, and
from the balcony of Aaron’s villa, I watched tiny fireflies dance across the
surface of the water. I stood alone, contemplating the sordid past, the
uncertain present, and the grim future.

“Are you coming in for something
to eat?” Sophie asked. She stood just inside on the polished floorboards. Soft
candlelight glowed behind her and cast flickering shadows across the living
room.

The smell of spiced vegetables
and fried meats wafted out into the open air. Aaron had always been an
exceptional cook. “Did you come back to Forget for me or for Ethan, ‘Phie?”

She shrugged and wrapped her arms
around her abdomen against the cool breeze. “I’m just glad to be back.
Everything here is just so much
more
,
Declan. The air is sweeter, the water fresher. You know, like…”

“Like a fairytale, yeah.” I moved
slowly but surely over the threshold and back inside, putting an arm across
Sophie’s shoulders. The wound in my side was paining me something awful. “I
even got stabbed by a wicked witch.”

“Yeah I heard. Do you want me to
try and heal it?”

“Could you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I mean, I didn’t think you were that far along skill-wise.”

“Unlike you, I’ve not spent the
last five years drinking away what little talent I have. Here.” She lifted my
shirt, exposing the ugly crescent-shaped cut in my side and Fenton’s crude
crisscrossing stitches. “Yes, I can heal that.”

“Okay, please don’t set fire to
my kidneys…”

Sophie pooled smoky luminescent
light into her palm and pressed it against my red-raw skin. Her touch tingled,
and a tiny furrow appeared in her brow as she concentrated on the enchantment.
After a moment, I felt the skin ripple and the stitches melt away.

She removed her hand. “Doesn’t
that look pretty now.”

“Barely a scar. Thanks, ‘Phie.
Still hurts a bit, though. Help me sit down?”

Sophie helped me to a seat on the
leather sofa next to the fireplace. Chester flew from his perch and settled on
my knee. His golden eyes stared unblinking into mine. I stroked the feathers
about his neck.

The chef had out done himself.
Plates of sizzling meat and warm breads were arrayed across the coffee table.
Marcus, Ethan, Clare, and Aaron had already helped themselves and were chatting
quietly in between bites of the delectable food. The heady aromas of sharp
spices were damn near dizzying.

“What are you staring at,
Declan?” Clare asked.

I blinked and fell out of my
swirling thoughts. I’d been staring at nothing but the far wall. “Is that a
liquor cabinet? How did that slip by me?”

Chester flapped over onto
Sophie’s knee as I stood up. I cast a quick look at Aaron, and he smirked. Sure
enough, the cabinet was locked. Without really thinking about it, I snapped my
fingers, and the door clicked open. Inside I found renewed hope that everything
would be okay.

“Macallan’s Single Malt Scotch
Whisky… 
eighty years old
.” I
cradled the bottle to my chest, wiping some of the dust away. “Ladies and
gentlemen, a toast!”

“I’m surprised it took you this
long,” Aaron remarked. “Just a drop, I suppose.”

The cabinet held a set of crystal
whisky glasses, and I placed them out on the coffee table between the two
sofas. “None for you, Chester. You’re flying in the morning.” As for the rest
of us, the consequences could go hang themselves.

“Isn’t he a little young for this
stuff?” Clare asked me as I handed Ethan a glass of amber liquid.

“Oh, sure. Too young for scotch
but old enough to break a condemned man out of prison. Young enough to die,
Clare.” I knew that better than most. “Come on, we’ve got to acknowledge the
commitment we’ve made today—to ourselves, to Atlantis and all its many
splendored wonders.”

Marcus shrugged and accepted a
glass. Clare looked as though she had something more to say, but decided
against it. Maybe she really was on my side and a thorn in Faraday’s. Or maybe
sponsoring a little underage drinking was nothing compared to our other crimes.

“What commitment?” Ethan asked.

“To saving the world, rookie.”

“I didn’t realize it was in
peril,” Sophie said.

“Given what’s at stake, we’re
probably the only people in all Forget who can stop what’s about to happen.”

“And what is about to happen?”
Aaron popped a red date into his mouth.

“I don’t know what game Faraday
or Renegade are playing, but I do know we can’t let either of them take
Atlantis. I told them I could end the Degradation, and Renegade acted as if
that didn’t matter. I think he may have found a way through the shield without
me.”

“Is that possible?” Marcus asked,
then sipped at his drink.

I thought of the Immortal Queen
and the dagger she had used to stab me. What had she done with that dagger? Or
more specifically, the blood on it? Having my blood may have made it possible
to breach the city.

“There’s magic in what we are,” I
said, holding my glass before me against the flames of the fire. Looking a
touch confused, my compatriots joined me. Five shadows danced on the rich
mahogany walls, all save mine. “We are real magic, folks. None of the flashing
lights and broken Will stuff we do every damn day. What we are is very rare.”