Lapis snagged the strap of the pack and hefted it into the back of the hefty vehicle, a mechanical contraption with chunky black wheels, thick steel walls, one-way windows, six two-person, padded benches on each side of the body, and two seats at the console. The bag flumped next to the other four, and she stared at the other supplies lying on the cracked pavement at her feet.
Cold seared her cheeks, and she wiped at the tears. Damn Dentheria, for calling the ‘shrouds home. Damn them, for docking them over a city when they knew the vessels were short on fuel. Damn them, for killing who they killed, for tearing into the heart and souls of the gullible who believed their promises of protection. She snagged another pack and slammed it down next to the previous one, huffing on air.
Vey, senseless, had run into the street, towards the valley, too distant to help the family she screamed for. Tenny followed, determined to bring her back. Cowl shouted into a comm device that only crackled in return. The dead did not speak, leaving the living to agonize over the pain and terror of their last moments.
She sucked in a shuddering breath, flashing to her family’s bodies in the coffins, the charred remains of their home surrounding them. She once again felt the rough bark of the tree digging into her palms as she clutched the branches and waited for salvation, knowing the men standing over them meant her harm if she exposed herself. Acid rose from her stomach and into her dry throat, and she slapped her hands over her mouth to keep from vomiting.
Patch gripped her shoulders. She looked up, eyes too blurry to see much besides black clothing and blond hair. He pulled her into his chest, and she buried her face into the marching shirt. He smoothed her cheek with the backs of his fingers, pressed his lips against her forehead and tightened his embrace.
“Sweet,” he breathed. She choked and wrapped her arms around him; her rock, her foundation, stout and unstricken. No, not unstricken; his muscles twitched and trembled, as he withheld strong emotion. Later, far later, would sorrow at the unfathomable catastrophe strike. Now?
Now they had to get to Torc Bedan before the slow-as-cold-syrup fleet docked there.
He nuzzled the side of her face to her lips, then kissed her, delicate, almost ethereal in its softness. Runny tears raced down her cheeks, and he brushed them away.
“Has Cowl gotten ahold of anyone yet?”
He shook his head, and her heart dropped further into darkness. Even a faint buzz of sound would light hope that the flames of destruction had quashed. Or perhaps they attempted to contact him, surrounded by fire, smoke, debris, unable to flee, needing help, needing—
Sirens beat a headache’s worth of noise into her ears, and she and Patch snagged the rest of the supplies. They needed to go before nosy city patrollers stuck themselves where they did not belong; no one at the safehouse wanted to deal with that on top of everything else. She peeked at the northern sky; orange smoke hid all but the flicks of flame reaching to the Stars and the blue emergency lights swiping along the clouds from Swifts. She assumed locals had more on their minds than a syndicate safehouse, but she refused to underestimate the need to find a quick and believable scapegoat.
More racing feet; the woman leading a group of ten slapped a card against a screen attached to the wire fence surrounding the yard, and the gate opened. They streaked inside and slammed the opening shut with a rattling clang. Eyes drifted to the roller, but no one stopped to inquire as they ran past.
They would join the fifty-odd members who had already arrived. Lapis did not think the safehouse large enough to hold them, let alone those who would come after.
Linz trotted up, expressionless, and handed Patch a full-size tech crossbow, black as Dentheria’s soul. Lapis opted out of an unfamiliar weapon, since she knew her blades and their quirks. Linz opted in; they held a firearm, tiny bits of red flashing along the scope. If the infiltration group needed a long shot, they would provide.
Brander and Rin shuffled to them, carting the remaining, poorly taped boxes. Sils insisted they bring odds and ends for some sort of contraption, but she had no guesses as to what it would form. Patch rearranged, they slid them onto the floor of the now-crowded back, and she slammed the door.
Linz pushed the sliding side of the vehicle open. The khentauree hunched over to step inside then settled between two ceiling-height steel poles they could grab onto for support. Sils and Cowl trotted up, shoulders slumped, fighting for neutral expressions. The Minq, wearing only his tunic and thin pants, shuddered in the wind and slapped his hands over his upper arms. Sils, in his marching shirt and helmet, wiped his sweating forehead with his lower arm before punching the passenger door button. It opened with a pop and he shoved a sign into the gap between the driver’s console and the window. Lapis glimpsed a black sword dividing a red shield, the symbol’s goopy paint still fresh. The Minq Syndicate coat of arms? Should they display it so openly?
“Got in contact with the shop,” Sils said as he smacked his black-gloved hands together. “Modders and Minq are going there. My assistant is caring for things, and she assures me there’s nothing to worry about since it’s nowhere near the Leads. So I’ll drive.”
Brave of him, to help their cause. “Won’t that attract attention?” Lapis asked, motioning to the sign.
“Not tonight,” Cowl said. “Patrols won’t stop a Minq roller, and other syndicates will think you’re armed. And they’ll be right.” He held up a sheet of paper in his shivering hand. “This is the latest list of checkpoints, but you’ll probably encounter more.”
“COWL!” He turned as a middle-aged man rushed up to them. “We got Mizzy! They don’t know much yet, but Jo Ban, Vu Ne and Amarie were headed to the Sinstreet Safehouse.”
“No,” he whispered, ugly, dark stress tightening his voice. Sils snagged the paper before the man raced inside. The informant skidded to a stop, pivoted, and followed his superior into the building.
The modder swept his hand to the roller. “Get in,” he barked.
“Sinsetreet near the crash?” Patch asked as Rin and Brander took the two steps up and stooped to enter the interior.
“Close enough,” Sils said. “They’d need to have passed through the streets around the Leads to get to it.”
Lapis’s chest tightened. No. Oh, no. She had met Jo Ban during the Fools and Ghouls celebration at the Lells, and while his status as a Minq terrboss intimidated her, she had the impression of a kind man; he treated the rats with respect, and his fondness for his granddaughters was apparent. Patch set his hand in the middle of her back and pushed her to the steps; she numbly boarded, shoved herself into one of the seats, and curled into a tight ball.
Everyone silently buckled safety belts. Patch slid the door shut as Sils trotted around the vehicle and slipped into the driver’s seat. He started the roller by pounding on the console; a low, vibrating roar shook the vehicle. Linz settled in the passenger’s side and held out their hand; the modder gave them the checkpoint list before the machine lurched into motion.
Alarms wailed and loudspeakers carried the message to stay inside and tune in to local news for updates. Red and blue lights flashed everywhere, whether in streets where a multitude of people screamed and attempted to bypass blockades, or in silent, still, darkened lanes devoid of human presence.
Lapis’s elbow dug into the windowpane and settled her chin in her hand, attempting to make sense of it all. Empty streets, full streets, streets blocked by other vehicles. Sils drove onto the sidewalks when he had no other option, flashing the front and back lights and punching a horn to warn people to move.
Why mill about in the dead of night, anyway? It made more sense to hide at home and wait for more information. Did protesters see a chance to smash the authorities in the chaos? Apparently so; shadows bending over multiple rooftops dumped spizzies on the frantic patrollers who held three separate blockades against a crowd so large, they spilled into adjacent, unlit roads in all directions. What rested on the other side of the culvert, that crossing the little overpass was worth the effort?
Tall buildings and dim streets disappeared, replaced by neighborhoods with wide lanes, bright streetlights, and single homes on plots of land. People stood on their porches or the sidewalks, shouting at each other, hands clasped, some with tears staining cheeks, some with helpless dread, all looking to the north.
They reached an agitated crowd. Sils pressed the horn, and held the button down; it blared, grating in its length, and the throng turned, anger descending.
Linz propped up the sign, and the way cleared for them as if water flushed the obstacles away. Flashes of resentment meant nothing without violence to back them up, and no one had the will to halt a Minq vehicle.
She slowly became aware of Patch’s hand massaging the back of her neck. How had she not noticed? She settled her hand on his leg, rubbing the rough fabric with her thumb. He scooted close, straining his safety belt, and slipped his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her forehead before staring out the window as the roller picked up speed, his patch lights parading in a slow, steady circle.
They held up a screen and punched a button; it fuzzed, and muffled shrieks erupted from the speaker. A man and woman, both in protective gear and helmets, stood in a deserted street with their backs to the distant flames, eyeing whoever filmed them.
“All streets leading into the Leads and downtown Trave, and the surrounding neighborhoods of Sun Hark, Manghens, Wiylthen, Carcandor, and Misspek are closed,” the woman said with firm urgency. “I repeat, all streets into the Leads and downtown Trave, and the surrounding neighborhoods of Sun Hark, Manghens, Wiylthen, Carcandor, and Misspek are closed. If you live in any of these areas—” The picture flickered and static reigned for long moments before stabilizing. “—the City Prelate has declared a state of emergency. Northern Trave and the surrounding suburbs are on lockdown. Return home and keep tuned to Kardell’s News at Night for updates as soon as they become available. Sign into your Kardell News account for maps—”
The man leaned forward. “Dora, we’re getting word that our reporter, Nuven Caldethi, is now on site. Stay with Kardell’s News at Night as we cover this breaking story.”
The picture switched to a man in a helmet and marching shirt, who held a metal stick he screamed into as ash rained down on him. Roars filled the air, but from what Lapis could not tell. “We’re at the Zadeve Street Markets—” Static. “—but the evacuation order of all cloudbreakers from Calash to—”
He stumbled as terrified people barreled into him, and the tech sputtered, grey static filling the screen, before the picture swung up. Flaming chunks of a cloudbreaker hurtled down, crashing into the pavement beyond them. Not everyone fleeing avoided the obstacle.
“Run! RUN!” someone screamed as dust flew past them. The scene flashed to black.
The previous reporters appeared, the man struggling to regain his composure, the woman shaking hard enough that her voice trembled. “We’ll try to get Nuven back. He and his crew bravely—”
“Bravely?” Lapis choked, clenching her fingers in her lap. “Brave enough to lose their lives because they wanted a breaking story?”
“Why did they go?” Tuft asked, a dark thrumming underlying his tone.
“They’re there to film something extraordinary that might get them some kind of award,” Linz said with disgust. “’Course, that award’s probably going to have to sit on their graves. I doubt they’re coming home.”
Lapis flinched, and Patch settled his lips against her hair. Did Nuven have a family? If so, why rush into danger when they waited for him to return? She sucked in a snuffle and rammed the pads of her thumbs into her eyes. How many families died for Dentheria’s fake show of strength? How many mothers and fathers would not come home? How many parents and grandparents took to the streets, desperate and hysterical in fear for loved ones?
“You mourn for them?” Tuft asked.
Lapis could not distinguish much of him through the tears. “Them? They’re dead. I mourn for the children left behind, who will never again feel their parents’ hugs, the family and friends who will never again see their warm smiles or hear their laughter.”
Linz lowered the screen, reading the listing of names scrolling past as the newswoman spoke them. “Sils, it looks like they’re trying to block off everything in the northern valley. They haven’t had time to up barriers everywhere yet, but we can guess they’ll barricade the major thoroughfares first. Richland is the nearest major road that’s outside that. It might be a mess, though. I’m betting everyone who has the opportunity is getting out while they still can.”
“The Minq will keep the Merry Candleway open,” Sils said.
“What’s that?” Rin asked.
“An extended overpass and toll road. They won’t be letting the random public across—and they won’t be kind about it.”
Linz’s thumbs flew over the bottom of the screen. “Looks like News First has a map up of the closed areas, the ones without electricity, and a list of where to go if you need help finding family and friends. Sils, do you know Maris Way?”
“They don’t have that blocked off?”
“No. They might be using it as a staging ground, but the Backward Alley’s next to it, and I doubt the Minq would let anyone but approved vehicles use it.”
Sils glanced side to side. “We should fit.”
“You knows the Minq ways?” Rin asked.
Linz shifted their eyes to him, then returned to the screen. “I was raised in Sun Hark,” they whispered. “The perfect community of pristine lawns, pristine mansions, fake love, and artificial respect. You’d be surprised, how many pay to use the Minq’s special roads, then brag about the association.” They barked a sour, enraged laugh. “I doubt much has changed in ten years.”
Lapis knew that sound; Lyet made it every time she mentioned her stepfather. Years of betrayal and abuse eroded trust, hope, and left a shell of a person as they hid behind a wall meant to keep the fractured remains of them safe. She returned to the window.
“One less family to mourn.”
They did not end up at the alley. Blockades and crowds forced them to take alternate routes. Lapis did not like it because the stench of smoke permeated the interior, but Brander and Patch popped open the square panel in the top of the vehicle and stood on the backs of benches, fighting for balance as they held their tech weapons for all to see. Belligerent people scurried away, rather than face the consequences if they pissed off the wrong shanks.
At least the Merry Candleway guards recognized Patch and Sils, and waved them across. No stopping to explain, no losing time, as they roared between the tall chain-link fences and into the deserted street beyond.
A flicker of blue in the sky caught her attention, and Lapis pressed her face against the window. The skyshrouds had separated, the two heading west outpacing the one floating to the northeast. “Don’t skyshrouds move faster than that?”
Sils snorted as he made a right and barreled down another empty street lined by large, dimly lit warehouses with guards pacing at the entry gates. “I think the captain’s trying to conserve energy,” he said. “They move slow, but not that slow. Only half the jets are on, the shields aren’t up, and only the running lights are visible.”
“If you look closely, you can see the Swifts and emergency spheres vacating,” Linz said. “Looks like the military doesn’t want to lose more of the fleet than necessary if another ‘shroud goes down—which means they know those vessels are near empty.” They hunched down, leaned over the console, and looked up. “I’m pretty sure the bumped one’s heading towards Torc Bedan. It might have a skeleton crew by the time it reaches the base, if the flights off are any indicator.”
“Or it’s having issues, and they hope to get it out of the city before it goes down,” Lapis muttered.
“Why did they even dock them over the Leads?” Brander asked, frustrated. “If they had even a hint that one might run out of power, why take the risk?”
“Military might be trying to hide the shortage,” Sils said.
“Or the Lords’ Council ignored the Leads’ warnings.” Linz focused on the screen. “They’re talented at pretending problems don’t exist if it interferes with their wealth and power. And really, who ever thought a skyshroud would crash into Trave, hometown of Dentheria’s military might?”
Patch hmphed. “Welcome to a new day on that front.”
They lurched to a stop, and Patch and Brander swore like men facing the embodiment of death as they rammed into the edge of the hole. Lapis peeked around her partner’s legs; lights bright as flame blinded her, then swiveled to the left. A congestion of askew vehicles blocked the way. Sils tapped a blank screen that burst to life, showing others screeching to a halt behind them, preventing him from backing up.
He hissed as Patch yelled something at a gaggle of people on the street, who tore into one another with desperate ferocity. Blood flew from lips and noses, those struck fell, some held broken arms, clutched twisted legs. What was going on? As far as she could tell, they traveled in a rich neighborhood, where owners hid their estates behind tall iron gates with grotesque, smiling demons atop pillars, guarding them.
Sils backed up. CRUNCH.
Lapis’s heart beat a furious, anxious tune.
He aimed for the sidewalk and skimmed the fighters; shrieking, they scattered. Bump bump, over the curb. She leaned away as her side of the roller screeched against the stone wall protecting the mansion they passed, and the vehicle rocked its way through bushes and over obstacles. She clutched the seat edge at her knees and braced her legs, but it did not stop her from jostling around. A fear-infused but amused giggle escaped Linz as the front clipped the back end of another vehicle; it smashed into its neighbors and people standing outside their rides ran to avoid getting smooshed.
The roller barreled through a dilapidated chain-link fence before they reached the bright lights, and entered a narrow, empty service road. Lapis rubbed at her throat; thick dark smoke and a flick of flame billowed over the estates on the other side of the crossroad. The crash site seemed so close! But the wide lane stood empty, no vehicles clogging the way. Why did it not have a glut of rich evacuees?
Sils turned left, and light, motion, erupted in front of them.
“Barrier,” Linz called. Patch and Brander dropped from the roof opening into their seats, snagged straps, and buckled up as Sils took the vehicle through a makeshift obstacle made of wire and red plastic posts. They bounced and rocked, and Lapis felt terrible for Tuft and Chiddle, who held on to the poles and braced with their legs, but still slid into the nearest bench.
The modder ignored the frantic, uniformed officers trying to stop them and smashed through the dotted, mobile crossgate. Lapis glanced to the side; cuffed people lined up along the sidewalk, some sitting, some bleeding, some bundled for the weather, some not, some crumpled on crimson-stained concrete, patrollers with body armor and tech weapons standing stiffly over them. The officers fired, but the beams did not penetrate the roller’s bulk.
Sils turned left and ran onto the walkway to avoid running over a trail of arrested people and their guards hustling down the center of the street. Screaming, the captured individuals fled to the opposite side of the road despite the roller coming nowhere near them. The guards ran after them, waving weapons and snagging arms to force them to stop. The four patrollers bringing up the rear kept their position; they pointed weapons at them but did not fire. Their six captives looked up.
Lapis gasped. “That’s Jo Ban!”
Patch unbuckled, planted his boot on the back of a bench and propelled himself through the still-open roof. Sils took the nearest alley exit, the wheels screeching on the sharp turn. Lapis snagged the door, slid it out of her way with a bang, gagged on the more intense odor of smoke and burning metal, and jumped out before the roller stopped. Seething, she ran to catch her wayward partner.
Damn him, she would tie him down and force him to listen to her lecture on what a door was.
The trailing guard turned when they heard running; Patch did not stop, just whapped them upside the helmet with the butt of his crossbow. They stumbled and fell; she kicked their tech from lax fingers, and it skidded to the opposite curb. She triggered her gauntlet blades, held the handles to keep them out, and sliced through the weapon a second pointed at her; it fizzled and sparked and the man yelled, dropping it to wring his hands.
He looked up, teeth barred, and swung at her rather than pulling the transparent face shield down. She let the right grip go so her blade shot back into its casing, curled her fingers, and punched. The knuckles of the thick leather had metal reinforcement, and those shiny gnashers did not withstand the strike. He howled and grabbed his bleeding mouth, bending over and backing away. He did not get far; ice raced up his legs, stopping at his knees.
Tuft should have stayed in the roller.
Linz pounded up and pointed her tech at the other two, who belatedly realized someone attacked. One dropped their weapon, the other raised their hands; Patch confiscated both death dealers.
Brander and Rin slipped past and shoved candystick tech picks into the sparking, tubed chains that confined Jo Ban and the man next to him.
“They’re all with us,” Jo Ban said as the bindings fell away and landed with a sizzling puff on the pavement. Purpling bruises puffed his face, and Lapis had the searing urge to deck the other two guards. But, since they windmilled to keep balance because Tuft froze their boots to the ground, she kept her hands to herself.
“How did you know where we were?” the man Rin helped asked, rubbing his wrists. Judging by his darker welts and ripped coat and tunic, his captors treated him less kindly than Jo Ban after they captured them.
“Happenstance,” Rin replied as he popped the lock on the younger woman’s chains. Amarie? Likely. She had long, curled blonde hair and wore a heavy purple coat of soft fluff, tight pants, thigh-high boots, and a sweet lacy long sweater—a style Lapis associated with rich Dentheria tourists visiting the Lells market in Jiy.
Beams streaked past. Linz pivoted and sprayed the distant attackers, who had gotten their captives under control and just recognized their buddies had trouble. Lapis grabbed Jo Ban’s arm and turned him towards the alley. “The roller’s there,” she said, pointing.
He hesitated, eyes riveted to the Leads’ inferno.
“GO!”
“Come on, Dad,” the man Rin helped said, snagging his elbow.
Lapis set her hand in the center of Amarie’s back and pushed her; her eyes, fathomless brown pits of terror, made her sigh. Not everyone dealt with fear like a chaser, and this experience might scar her.
“Get to the roller!” Patch yelled.
Ice rose as a barrier, and they fled to the alley.
“You should have stayed put,” Lapis told Tuft as she surged inside, annoyed he exposed himself to Trave authorities.
“Why allow you to have all the fun?”
What?
Patch coughed on his startled laughter; good thing he was not near enough for her to slug his arm. She strapped in, and everyone else found a seat. Rin sat with the sobbing young woman, and her partner wisely placed himself behind her, unable to drown his cherry-cheeked amusement and wary of her temper.
Linz slid the door shut and Sils punched the console. The roller jerked into motion, and they all struggled to brace themselves.
“Happenstance, eh?” the man with Jo Ban asked, twisting to look at Rin.
“Sometimes luck isn’t a distant hope,” Lapis said. “Do any of you need medical care?”
“They broke Tinder’s arm.” Jo Ban motioned to the man wincing in pain as everyone else shook their heads. “They were rougher with Vu Ne.”
She did not imagine the hate in that statement.
“I’m fine, Da,” Vu Ne said, stressing the words.
Patch did his best to rummage for a med kit as the roller bumped and lurched around, then he and Tinder’s friend did their best to place his arm in a crude splint. The young woman stared, tears streaking down her cheeks, and Rin looked at her, pleading for help. She had no idea what to say that might calm her down and reassure her, and she did not want to plant more terrible memories in her brain.
“Ah, Amarie,” Jo Ban said in a breezy, sure tone. “Your grandmother spoke of Rin.” He waved his hand at the rat. “And I’m certain the name Patch has fallen from my lips a time or two. You are in good hands; these people will not harm you.”
She nodded, snuffling, then looked at Rin, who put on his most charming, mischievous rat grin.
“This thing,” Linz grumbled, tapping frantically at the screen.
“Yeah, I couldn’t get it to connect,” Sils said as he took a hard left. Everyone tipped, then rocked back into place with hissy gasps.
“I take it comms are down?” Vu Ne asked.
“Along with everything else,” the modder muttered.
“How close were you to the crash?” Patch asked.
“Crash?” Vu Ne glanced at her partner, confused. “We were in a hover tunnel, and we thought an earthquake struck. Everything shook, the ceilings collapsed, so we evacuated the hover, found an exit, and walked into debris and fire. People were running, screaming. We had no idea what happened, and the patrollers rounded everyone up. They were . . . not kind to many.”
“Yeah. A skyshroud docked at the Leads ran out of fuel and took a header into three cloudbreakers,” Lapis said. The rescued stared at her as Amarie gasped and covered her mouth with her hands.
“We thought the earthquake set something on fire,” Vu Ne whispered, aghast. “But . . . a skyshroud crashed?”
“We watched it go down from the Gypsum Safehouse,” Patch said as he rose, the med kit in one hand, gripping the back of the seat with his other to stay on his feet. “Jets ran white, then died. Nearly took a second one with it.”
The device Linz held crackled. “Linz from Jilvayna here,” they said. “Do you hear me?”
“Pheno here. Hear you,” the pilot said, static nearly drowning her words.
“We have Jo Ban, Vu Ne, and their entourage. Advise.”
A louder crackle. “Grand-da? Da?” The speaker squeaked, and Lapis winced at the pain shooting through her ears.
“We’re fine, Cowl,” Jo Ban called.
“Safe, relatively whole,” Vu Ne said.
“Stars’ luck,” Cowl choked. “Where are you?”
“In Camberbrook, where all the nice mansions are,” Linz said
“OK. Military’s doing sweeps of Camberbrook and the other southeastern districts. You need to get further east and take the culvert along the Chandik Byway to the Bluebird Safehouse. We’ve reports from other safehouses that the skyshroud that got bumped is having problems, and you don’t want to be under it if it goes down.”
“Noted.”
“We’ll contact you from Bluebird,” Jo Ban said and nodded at Linz.
“Noted,” Cowl said before the rebel ended the comm.
