Temper (8 page)

“I’m realistic. That man isn’t my father, and you have no idea what it was like to grow up thinking differently.”

“Your privileged existence must have been so hard to bear.”

He shakes his head. “You think that because you had plain food and no decent shower you had it tough? You think you had the monopoly on a shitty life? You have no idea, Princess.”

There’s pain in his gray eyes. So raw I can’t stand looking at it. I never thought … I assumed because he wasn’t a servant he had it made. His words shrink me to about an inch tall.

Only for a second.

His lips twitch. “Had you going, didn’t I? Of course my life was awesome except for my too-good-to-be-true big brother. Once I got rid of him it was sweet. He never has explained exactly what happened when he first left the ship.”

“He has. Maston fooled him and wiped his memories.”

“I’m talking about Zed. Have you two talked about how your brother met his end?” He waits and interprets my silence correctly. “I’m not surprised. Kind of ruins the fairytale you have going.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” I snap, finally finding my voice. If there was Samuai would have told me. Except … last night he tried to tell me something, and I didn’t want to hear it. I wanted to kiss him instead.

Beneath, my ribs start aching like when Zed and I would play chasey in an empty training room until we couldn’t breathe. This pain won’t get better with a few good breaths.

I lower my eyes, but Davyd knows he’s hit me where it hurts.

“Anyway,” he says lightly, “Samuai’s return kind of sucked, but your declaration that I’m the better brother in front of the council turned things back my way.”

Only one day travelling with Davyd and my self-control has been tested at every turn. It’s like he wants to break me. “You should know, the only reason I chose you is because no one would miss you if I lost control and smashed your brains out.”

I expect one of his usual comebacks but instead he turns away. “I know.”

He’s playing me, I know it, but I can’t stop the flutter of regret at my tactless explanation. I bite down on an apology because he’d only see it as weakness.

With nothing more to say, I fight my heavy eyelids and pull out the maps of New City, where the Company have their headquarters. I stare at the tablet screen, attempting to imprint the contents on my brain. I have no idea how long the battery will last, and I don’t want to be stuck there without any idea how to head home.

The setting sun bathes the room in dusky pink light, its rays shining on the dust we’ve stirred up in making camp. I know home is toward the setting sun, but hopefully the huge mountains will help my sense of direction from the city. It’s once I get up into the rocks that I might have a problem.

I retrace today’s journey in my mind. If I could find the trail, I think I’d find my way … Home. Funny a tent in the middle of nowhere with a whole lot of people I don’t even like that much has earned that label so quickly.

After a while, when darkness has cloaked the farmhouse and the only light is the orange glow from the stove, I pack it all away. Sharing the old farmhouse with Davyd is like sharing a tent with a snake, but if I don’t sleep, I won’t have a hope of functioning when we get to the Company headquarters. I close my eyes, intending to go over the maps again, but what I’m thinking about as my breathing slows, is Toby, The older Green Robe sought me out this morning before we left while Davyd spoke quietly with Keane.

“Be careful,” he had said, his voice heavy.

I’d studied the lines of his face and the shadows in his eyes before everything—the way Keane deferred to him at the meeting and the intensity in him now—clicked. “You’ve been there before.”

A short nod confirmed my guess.

“Was it so terrible, this New City?”

His lips thinned and then moisture gathered in his eyes. “No, and that’s what makes them so damn dangerous.”

***

A prickle of pain on my neck wakes me from a deep, dreamless sleep. I lift my strangely heavy hand to slap at the bug and meet a cold blade. My chest constricts and eyes fly open.

Beady brown eyes are only inches from my face. They crinkle into a manic grin. “What ya doing on my mattress?”

I try to sit up, back away, but the owner of the eyes—female I’m guessing from the voice—has the knife pressed against my throat so that moving makes the cut deeper. Not moving doesn’t take much convincing.

“I didn’t know it was yours,” I say conversationally despite the churning anger in my belly. I need to buy some time. Where’s Davyd? And what does this person want?

“Likely story.” Her rancid breath is sour on my skin.

“Why don’t you put away the knife so we can talk?”

The grin becomes a giggle. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? You think you’ll talk to me long enough and your friend will come back and you’ll outnumber me. I’m not stupid. Anyway, the look of the way your friend packed up and wheeled that bike out of here before speeding down the track tells me he won’t be back for a while.”

“He’s gone?”

A cold sweat breaks down my spine, fuelling my anger. I should have known trusting Davyd was a mistake. But I was so, so tired. Too tired. I mentally replay him preparing the stew we had for dinner and pouring the tea at lunch. He could have slipped me something then. He must have. My teeth grind together. When I catch up to him, he’ll pay.

“Gone,” she says. The pressure on my neck eases a little. “We’re all alone, and I’m the one holding a knife.”

Despite how out of it I was last night, I’m not completely inept. Making sure my eyes stay locked with the girl’s I edge my hand to the boot I didn’t take off to sleep. The Q is somewhere in my jacket, but I have my knife. If I can keep her attention for another few seconds, she won’t be the only one armed.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” I warn.

The eyes narrow. “You don’t seem to understand that I have all the power here, and you … You’re just some girl trying to take my bed. I could slit your throat without a second thought.” Her chin lifts. “I’ve done it before.”

Blade in hand at last, I tense. Then she lifts her chin a fraction more, and I realize what my drug hazed brain has been missing. I’m dealing with a child. She might be insane, but taking into account the slight stature, the overconfidence, the high pitch of her voice, I’m guessing she couldn’t be much older than Zed was when he died.

The anger that has been building inside me releases on a long breath.

“You could slit my throat,” I say calmly. “But throat slitting is really messy, and your mattress would be stuffed afterwards. The blood would be impossible to remove.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the blade drops away. She doubles over, laughing.

I fight a smile. “It’s not that funny.”

Her head lifts, and I see her properly for the first time. She’s painfully skinny, with long dark knotted hair, dark brown eyes, skin a deep brown beneath a layer of dirt and wearing rags of indeterminable color. She holds out a hand “The name’s Rael. And this is my place.”

I shake. “Asher.”

“Hi, Asher.” Rael jerks her head into the shadows in the corner. “Is that yours?”

Thanks to the gloom and the early hour, it takes me a second to make out the hunched shape of a dog. Familiar eyes watch me from the other side of the room. “Nice to see you again Brown Dog.” He trots over at his name, his paw clicking across the floor. I pat him on the head where his short fur is least matted. He tenses at first, but as he relaxes into my touch, his tail swishes in wary happiness.

Rael hesitates and then touches a fingertip to his side. Her whole hand follows when he doesn’t growl. “He’s not much of a guard dog.”

“He’s not mine. I fed him yesterday, he’s probably looking for more of the same.” I study her. “Why didn’t you let us know you were here?”

A shadow crosses her thin face. “You’re not my first visitors.”

She says nothing more, but my stomach cramps and the usual anger flares inside me. Not at her but whoever was here last. “I wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“Maybe. Anyway, I hid and I watched and I didn’t sleep on my mattress.”

“Sorry again.”

She waves away my apology. “I saw your friend, although I guess I shouldn’t call him that since he’s left you here. Snuck out about an hour ago, and I figured I’d come and investigate.”

“With a knife?”

“You’re bigger than me. And on my mattress.”

I blink hard, wishing my eyes weren’t so heavy. I’m trying to think, but it’s like somebody filled my head with glue.

She’s a little obsessed with the mattress. “Would it help if I sat on the chair?”

“I don’t know. Depends how long you’re planning on staying. You’ve been abandoned. What are you going to do about it?”

[Samuai]

I’m not lame enough to get up before dawn to watch them leave.

But I think about doing so. I wake without any need for an alarm and lie there on my uncomfortable camp bed, listening. Imagining I can hear the scrape of feet on the rocks as Asher and Davyd meet up. I can almost hear them talking to Keane right up until the last minute to get details on New City and the best route to get there—details that will likely ensure Davyd goes a different way. Then the camp is still and silent again, and my gut cramps and fists clench as in my head I see them riding off into the sunrise together.

In the darkness of the tent, I toss and turn, too hot to sleep despite the chill in the air, and I torture myself with images of Asher’s arms wrapped around his waist. The same arms that held me last night. Her body pressed against his the way I held it against me last night. The curve of her breast, the softness of the inside of her wrists where I can feel the way her pulse races when we kiss.

I could have begged her not to go. I didn’t. And not because I know someone needs to do something about the violence of the Lifers. It was fear. Fear she’d go anyway no matter what I said. The moment we shared on the lookout was a beginning, but I can’t stop thinking I might not get a chance to see what could happen between us.

Worse, I might not get a chance to tell her the truth.

Finally, the late night watch duty catches up with me and I sleep again. Only to dream of Zed following me from the ship. His cheeky voice yelling ‘Surprise,’ because we’d always teased each other and scaring me was his latest joke. And the look on his face when he realized there would be no going back.

I turn again and the dream flips. Zed becomes Davyd. He’s leading Asher toward the edge of a huge chasm while I can only watch on. He laughs and teases her, completely distracting her from the perilous edge crumbling away beneath her unsuspecting feet.

Look down
, I beg her. There’s no sound but their laughter no matter how loud I scream.
Don’t trust him
.

I wake to a female voice seeping into the cracks of the nightmare. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

I smile. Somehow she heard me, she came back. Her name is on my lips as I turn over and open my eyes. Except it isn’t her.

“Megs?”

Megs’ grin slips. “Who did you think it was?”

But we both know who I was thinking about. I rub at my gritty eyes rather than answer, and stretch my arms over my head. Pain shoots down in hot trails from my shoulders to my fingertips.

“Holy—” I bite down on the rest of the curse.

Her face pales. “This is bad.”

“I’ll be fine.”

She grips my elbow, dragging it up toward my face. “Look at this, you need to see Charley.”

I let myself look where the pain’s coming from. No wonder my sleep was feverish. The scratch and bite marks from my attempt to help at the brawl have festered. What were long lines of red attempting to scab over flaps of skin, is now green and swollen in places. One spot on my wrist has become infected, stretching the skin and filling with fluid like a horror bubble. I don’t want to think about what would come out if it burst.

“I meant to get stitches yesterday.”

I think she’s going to ask what kept me so busy, and I’m all ready to not mention Asher and remind her of the funeral and the council meeting and seeing my mother, but she doesn’t. Instead, she tosses my jeans onto the blanket. “Put those on, and we’ll see if you can make it to the hospital. The last thing we need around here is someone else carried across camp on a stretcher.”

She turns her back, and I slide the jeans over my hips, wondering when my whole body began to ache. “What are you doing here, anyway? I didn’t think you were talking to me.”

“I decided that you couldn’t help it.”

“What?” The fever isn’t helping my abilities to understand females.

“You can’t help thinking with your …” She waves at my jeans. “You know.”

“I don’t.”

She spins around with arms folded. “Asher’s gone off with your brother, and you’re taking it personally.” Her smile is somewhere between sweet and slit-my-throat. “I, however, am not interested in you as anything more than a friend, so I’m choosing not to take your personal reaction personally. It’s simple.”

The room begins to spin. “Yeah.”

I’ve given up attempting to make sense of why Megs is here. I’m grateful she is and too dizzy to do anything but accept the arm she offers and do my best to remain upright as we head across the camp toward the hospital. My ears ring, and I know Megs speaks to people as we pass, but I can’t focus enough to make sense of the sounds.

One foot in front of the other takes everything I have.

“Don’t worry,” she whispers as we enter the waiting area. “I told everyone you drank too much.”

“We’ll talk about the effects of a bad cover story later.” I try to put warning in my tone but since the words all slur together, I’m not sure she understands any of it. The condescending pat on the arm she gives me would work either way.

A nurse I don’t recognize hurries over. She frowns and immediately calls for Charley.

Excellent, I must look as good as I feel. My clothes are sticking to my skin in patches, and I feel where my hair is plastered to my forehead. I pull Megs toward the nearest chair, although the floor would do.