Vigilante (4 page)

“Yes.”

“And if I ask you to stay?”

He smiled, hypnotizing her with the graceful curve of his mouth. “Like I said, you will always have the upper hand, Ana.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Why?”

She turned her head as a tear streaked along the side of her face. He stopped it with his lips, kissing it away. She looked up at him, a warm wonder filling her chest, smoothing over the scar tissue and all the tattered edges. “Because I love you, too.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Her eyes flew open.
No.
She was tied up again. How could she have been so—

She looked down at herself. She was lying on a neat pallet of fabric stuffed with something dry and grassy smelling. And she
wasn’t
tied up. She was bandaged. From elbows to wrists, her arms were wrapped in a coarse burlap material, and beneath that had been spread some sort of ointment.

The odor …
ugh
. She didn’t want to know the ingredients, but she couldn’t argue with the results. Her skin tingled, but the sharp, gnawing pain of the last several hours was gone. The same sensation enveloped her bandaged feet. Her boots were sitting next to the pallet. In front of her was a small fire, the smoke slithering up through an opening in the rock. Next to the fire sat Sascha.

He’d removed his cloak and his armor, so now he was just wearing faded fatigues that had definitely seen better days. His pale-gray eyes were riveted on the fire.

“Hey,” she said, “thanks.”

Without looking away from the fire, he smiled. “For not tying you up and selling your body to the nearest trader?”

“Something like that.” She slowly pushed herself up to sitting.

“Do you want something to eat?”

She shook her head. “Not hungry.”

His gaze slid over to hers. “Because you don’t belong in the Wasteland, Ana.”

“I have no plans to permanently settle down in a nice cliffside hovel, so don’t worry.”

He tossed a rock into the fire, sending up a little explosion of sparks. “I don’t understand why anyone would come here voluntarily, even for a short time.”

She watched him carefully, looking for any sign of anger, but all she saw was resignation, an intense sadness etched into every pore and wrinkle on his craggy face. “Do you work alone?”

His laughter was so bitter it made her look away. “For many years, I did. I was not fit to be around anyone, so it was better that way.”

“How did you become a Guard?”

“I saved someone. A young man who’d been set upon by the wolves. He stabbed me in the back and left me to die not ten minutes later, and the next thing I knew, I was in the Sanctum. The Judge said he was going to reward my compassion.” Sascha looked over at his leather breastplate, which he’d leaned against the wall. “I spent years refusing to serve. I didn’t want to be a Guard.”

She knew that feeling well. “What changed?” She suspected she already knew. It had only taken her a few moments to spot the second set of armor propped in the corner, much narrower in the chest than Sascha’s.

His eyes followed hers to the armor, set up like a shrine, a crossbow laid out in front of it. “I don’t know why he bothered,” he said quietly. “He had his own stuff to deal with. But one day, he was here, waiting for me, and we started patrolling together. I never asked him if he’d been ordered to do it. I didn’t want to know. And after a while, it didn’t matter. We stuck together.”

As Sascha looked at the armor, his expression melted, softening the hard edges slightly, like fresh butter left out on a table. He didn’t say anything else, and he didn’t have to. Ana recognized the longing in his eyes, the sorrow as he stared at the empty armor. Somehow, in this awful, desolate place, someone had reached Sascha, touched his heart, changed his soul.

“What was his name?”

“Henry.” His voice was airless, helpless, torn. Sascha scrubbed a rough hand over his face. “He’s gone now, obviously.”

Ana reached out and laid a hand on Sascha’s arm. “Did he die?”

Sascha shook his head. “No. Maybe. I’m not sure. He just said he had to go on a mission, and that he would try to find his way back to me if he could.” He smiled, deepening the crinkles around his eyes. “He said I should be good, that maybe I could find my way out. That maybe we would see each other again in some other place.”

“When was that?”

He sighed. “A while ago. I don’t think he’s coming back, and I’m glad. He was ready to leave this place.”

Ana squeezed his arm. “I’m betting it was harder for him to leave than you think.” Her voice had gotten hoarse.

Sascha nodded and chuckled sadly. “Maybe. It was always hard to tell with Henry.”

“Maybe he hid how much it hurt, because he didn’t want his pain to hurt
you
.” It came out in a choked whisper as the memories assaulted her.

Sascha swallowed hard and looked over at her. “I’m getting some sense of why you’re here now.”

She sniffled and brought her knees up to her chest. “Yeah, you are. His name is Takeshi. He was my Captain.”

“And he’s here? In the Wasteland?”

“No. He’s in that black city at the end of the canyon.”

Sascha’s face paled. “How do you know?”

She rose and stretched carefully, testing her limbs. “I just do. When the Judge retired me, I was in another place. A nice place. And I looked for him there, but I couldn’t find him. As soon as I realized he wasn’t there, the black city appeared, like it was calling me. I know he’s there. And I’m going to find him.”

She edged her way out onto the flat patch of rock outside. The sun was high in the sky, and the heat seared her lungs as she sucked in a breath. The black city was closer now, towering out of the gray desert, surrounded on all sides by shifting sand. Ana squinted. The city had a dome around it, reflective but transparent. She shouldn’t have been surprised. If it didn’t, the Mazikin would be crawling all over the Wasteland, trying to punch their way into the Countryside. They were trapped in there—but obviously they had another way out, through whatever means they used to possess bodies in other realms.

A presence behind her shaded her from the sun. “There are stories about that place. That it’s ruled by monsters.”

She met Sascha’s pale gaze. “It is. And Takeshi’s been there for years.”

He frowned. “Then how do you know he’s still in there? That he hasn’t died and gone to a more peaceful place?”

“Because he wasn’t waiting for me when I got out. If he wasn’t trapped, he would have been waiting.”

Sascha was quiet for a long time as he stared at the Mazikin city. “If it’s been years, how do you know his love for you has not faded?” he finally asked.

Ana’s eyes traced the smokestacks and the black tendrils of smoke curling beneath the dome. “I don’t know. It might have.” She turned to Sascha. “But mine hasn’t.”

He took a sharp, short breath, as though he’d been shocked with a live wire. “I’ll get my things,” he announced. “I’m going with you.”

CHAPTER SIX

They set out in silence, marching through the shifting sand, carrying all their weapons on their backs and enough food to get Sascha through a few days. He had lent Ana a hat that had probably been Henry’s, but it gave her only minimal protection from the rays of the murderous sun. Sascha didn’t ask her about her plan, which was good. She didn’t have much of one. She was hoping they might find some back entrance, some abandoned spot where they could step through the dome and scale the wall, some way to get in that didn’t involve barging through the Mazikin’s front gate. If they didn’t find another entrance, the only alternative she could think of was to go in masquerading as victims—assuming the Mazikin didn’t recognize her.

A distant roar brought her to a halt, her boots sinking a few inches into the sand as she scanned the horizon. Sascha cursed softly under his breath. “The sand serpent,” he said, pointing to a spot in the distance. As Ana watched, an enormous snakelike creature emerged from the sand, green scales glinting in the light. It arched in the air and dove back into the sand, its thick, sinewy body cutting through the desert as if it were water. “It’s why few people cross the desert. That, and
them
.” He glanced up as a shadow passed over the sand. Three of those giant carrion birds circled slowly in the sky above them. “We should keep moving.”

Ana didn’t need to be told twice. “Can everyone see that city?” She’d learned not to assume that everyone saw what she could.

Sascha nodded, tugging his hood forward on his head to keep the sun from his eyes. “I think so. I’ve heard stories about it for years, but I have no idea how much is true. People in the Wasteland aren’t known for their honesty.”

“Do you know what a Mazikin is?”

Sascha frowned. “No.”

As they walked, she filled him in, going over everything she knew, preparing him for what they might face. The only problem: she wasn’t sure about it herself, because she’d only faced Mazikin in possessed bodies, not in their true forms. And as the reflective dome shimmered in the distance, coming closer with every step they took, she wondered if she really wanted to know. The closer they got, the more the dome seemed to reflect the desert around it, bouncing the rays of the sun toward them and blinding them, making what lay inside harder to see. Sascha shaded his eyes and squinted. “I’m having trouble seeing it now. It’s like a mirror, and the sun …”

“I know,” Ana said quietly. “But it’s straight ahead. We have to keep walking.”

She expected him to argue, to complain, maybe even to leave her. There was no reason for him to stay with her, really. Except … as soon as she’d told him that what mattered was
her
love, not Takeshi’s, that had changed things for him. It had meant something to him. He thought it was worth fighting for. Ana was grateful for that, particularly when she heard a shout coming from far behind them and whirled to see a large group of cloaked, hunched individuals following after them. They were still about a mile off, only a knot of darkness in the vast expanse of sand, but they were moving quickly and deliberately. She put her hand on Sascha’s arm.

“Damn,” he snapped when he spotted them. “It’s a scavenger gang. They must think we’re easy prey, or they’d never follow us into the desert.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “They’ll be very eager to get hold of you.”

Ana’s stomach turned. “Up for a run?”

Sascha’s mouth tightened. He pulled out his water bottle and took a swig, sweat streaking down his temples. He lowered the bottle and capped it. “I think we need to. Maybe we can get into that city before they reach us.”

They set off at a rapid pace, their boots slipping and sinking in the sand. The black city winked and flashed in the afternoon sunlight, sometimes disappearing completely as the dome around it reflected only sun and sand—and the group of scavengers chasing them. At least she was running in the shade; the carrion birds were close overhead now, as if they sensed that blood would be shed soon.

Ana watched herself in the dome’s mirrored surface, her small form next to Sascha’s towering one, pursued by at least two dozen hunchbacked creatures lugging spiked clubs. Somehow, they were gaining. “How many arrows do you have for your crossbow?” she asked between labored breaths.

“Not enough.”

“And knives? I can hit just about anything with a knife.”

He reached under his cloak and handed her a flat pouch that clinked as its contents shifted. “There are four. Not enough.” His voice sounded hollow and bleak. Several yards off to their left, the sand serpent roared. It was so close that the ground shook beneath Ana’s feet as it dove into the sand.

“I’m sorry for getting you into this.”

He let out a panting burst of laughter. “It was my choice. I’m just hoping we die quickly—I don’t enjoy being tortured. But I’ve been wanting to have another conversation with the Judge.”

“Why?”

“I want to ask him … I want …”

“You want to go where Henry is. You want to serve with him.”

That was probably why he was willing to come with her, why he was willing to die here in this desert. He had hope. A precious, fragile hope that he could be with the person he loved. And he was willing to give his life for it, for the chance, no matter how slim, that it might bring them together again.

Ana, on the other hand, didn’t particularly want to die here, drowning in the sand, only a quarter mile from her goal. The dome was close now, rising out of the desert like a mountain, so huge she couldn’t see around or past it. Its shimmering surface made it hard to see exactly what they were up against. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She could see the pack of rabid humans
behind
her in great detail. Because they were getting really close.

“We’re not going to make it. Maybe I can get them to back off,” Sascha said, stopping abruptly and sliding his crossbow off his shoulder. With practiced hands, he fitted a bolt and sent it flying into the oncoming mob, and as soon as it hit, she heard a swishing twang and knew another was on its way. Realizing they were about thirty seconds from being overrun, she drew two knives from the pouch and sent them in a spiraling blur toward the gang. Four of them were now corpses in the sand, but the others didn’t even slow down. And now she could see the murderous, hungry gleam in their eyes, which were all fixed on her.

Sascha skewered three more of the hunchbacks before grabbing her arm. “It’s not working. We have to try to make it to the city!” he shouted.

Ana sprinted next to him, wishing she couldn’t hear the pounding footfalls of their pursuers. The distance between them could be crossed in seconds. She could smell them now, reeking of meat and blood, snarling with eagerness as they chased down their prey. These creatures might not be Mazikin, but they’d given up their humanity entirely. It made her admire Sascha, who had been in the Wasteland for a long time and had become
more
compassionate, not less so. He was a few steps ahead of her, his strides long and desperate despite his claim that he didn’t mind dying. He didn’t slow down as he collided with the reflective dome around the black Mazikin city.

And bounced off.

Ana cried out as he grunted in pain and hit the sand next to her, his nose gushing blood, his eyes half-open and stunned. She stepped forward and saw the frantic terror in her own eyes as she pounded on the dome. It wasn’t like the boundary between the Countryside and the Wasteland, like the boundary between the Judge’s Sanctum and the meadow. This one was solid.

She whirled around, pulled two of her remaining knives, and cocked her arms.

Her blades never left her hands. With a deafening roar, the sand serpent exploded from the ground six feet in front of her. Its smooth, scaled head was wider than Sascha’s broad shoulders. Two slitted yellow eyes looked up at the sky as its enormous body emerged from the desert, rising at least twenty feet in the air before arcing toward the gang. Her view of them was blocked by the serpent’s massive body, but she heard their screeches as it descended on them, and the echoing crack of its massive jaws as it decimated her enemies.

The wet crunch of snapping bones and the agonized shrieks of the dying filled her ears as the straggling survivors ran with frenzied strides back into the desert, away from the dome. Away from Ana, who backed up cautiously until the hard, warm surface of the dome caught her, preventing her from going farther. She held her breath as the serpent shook the earth, writhing and thrashing its head back and forth with a limp hunchback hanging from its jaws.

Beside her, Sascha moaned. She crouched next to him and used the bottom of her trench coat to wipe the blood from his face. He blinked slowly as he gazed up at her. “Did it happen? Are we dead?”

“No more than usual,” she answered.

She helped Sascha sit up. Blood still trickled from his nose and over his chin, dripping in shining beads of crimson onto the front of his cloak. His eyes went round as he stared at the massive beast in front of him, which was devouring its victim whole. Rag-wrapped feet disappeared with a lurch into the serpent’s mouth, its dagger-length teeth closing with a snap. It closed its eyes as it swallowed its meal and sighed in apparent pleasure as it rested in the sand. The rest of the gang had dispersed into the desert, their common purpose evaporated by the threat of ending up in the belly of a monster.

“Is that thing going to eat us?” Ana whispered.

“No idea.” Sascha swiped his sleeve over his nose, wincing. “I’d say it can do whatever it wants to. But while it’s napping, maybe we should try to find a way in.” He inclined his head toward the dome.

Ana helped him to his feet, and together, they peered at the barrier between the desert and the Mazikin city. Sascha placed his hand against it. “I can’t tell whether it’s meant to keep us out—or whatever’s inside
in
.”

“My guess is the latter,” Ana said. “I should have thought of this. I know it’s bad out here, but I also know the Mazikin are desperate to get out of
there
.”

She rubbed her hand along the surface of the dome, squinting to see past her own reflection. It was easier now that the sun was sinking low. When she’d looked at it from a distance, she’d seen the high wall that surrounded the city, the jagged spires of the gates that appeared to be the only entrance. If it was anything like the dark city, that would be where their victims landed. She pressed her face to the glossy surface, which fogged with her breath. “Damn,” she breathed. “If we try to break in, we might only succeed in giving them an escape hatch.”

Sascha laid his forehead against the mirrored wall, cupping his hands around his face. “I see the city gates. What the …”

Ana imitated him, cupping her hands around her eyes to block out all the light that reflected off the dome’s surface. Dimly, she could see the black spires of the gates. And—

“Oh my God,” she gasped. A crowd was gathering outside the gates of the city. Not Guards, like in the dark city. Not people, either. Animals? No, they weren’t animals. Not completely, at least. They walked on two legs, just like men. They carried weapons in their hands, daggers and clubs, just like men. But their faces were almost like a dog’s … They had blunt, black snouts and inky eyes, with rounded ears sticking up from the sides of their heads. Tufts of tawny hair sprouted from the tops of their heads, above wrinkled brows. Their necks were thick and furry, their bodies solid and barrel-chested. As Ana stared, some of them dropped to all fours and loped around on powerful limbs in a sandy area outside the open gates. A few of them grinned, revealing mouths full of glistening, curved fangs.

“Those are Mazikin,” Ana muttered, sizing them up. Fear for Takeshi pounded in her chest, sending dread coursing through her veins.

“What are they doing?”

“I’m betting they’re waiting for their prey to arrive.” Her breath clouded the surface of the dome, but her throat was dry.

The excitement in the group was palpable; Ana could feel it even through the solid barrier. They were waiting for something. Eagerly. A few of them turned their heads and stared up at the sun, as if it would tell them the time. “Mazikin possess human bodies in other realms,” she explained. “They have this ceremony. They tie their victims to a table, and they light some incense. When the smoke is thick, they call one of their spirits up from this city, and it takes shape as a shadow. Then it takes possession of the body—and sends the person’s soul here.”

She closed her eyes, remembering the one Mazikin possession she’d witnessed, holed up with Malachi in an air vent, waiting for a platoon of Guards to arrive so they could burn the nest to the ground and kill any survivors. It had been a few years after Takeshi’s death, but it had hurt like a scimitar to the heart. The woman had arched up, screaming and thrashing against her bonds as the smoky shadow slammed into her. Her face had twisted with agony, and tears had streamed from beneath her closed eyelids. Ana had never seen anything as terrible, and she had seen a lot of terrible things. For a long time after that, she’d relived it in her dreams, only it had been Takeshi on that table, tied down tight, howling as the evil spirit ripped him from himself.

Behind them, the serpent belched. It blinked sleepily at them, then slowly slithered away across the sand. The carrion birds floated to the ground, happily cawing as they prepared to feast on the shredded remains of the hunchbacked barbarians who hadn’t been lucky enough to escape. Ana watched the sun glint off the emerald scales of the receding sand serpent, off the oily black feathers of the enormous carrion birds, then turned back to the dome. The Mazikin crowd had grown. They flowed out of the city gates, grinning and flexing clawed fingers.

Even outside the barrier, the sucking pop was audible. A dark void opened above the sandy gathering area, and the Mazikin raised their arms, their mouths curving into wide, toothy grins as they stared at the black hole. Ana’s heart was beating so hard she felt as if it were about to crack her ribs. Sascha drew in a sharp breath, and she realized she’d reached out and clutched his arm, squeezing desperately. She stared at the black opening, a window to another realm, waiting, the anxiety choking her—

A man fell from the hole, naked and limp, and crashed into the sand. She watched him brace his palms against the ground and raise his head, pain etched onto every feature of his face as the Mazikin crowded around him, blocking her view.

Ana stumbled away from the dome, unable to contain her screams.

They’d taken Malachi.