Miscreants: Next Generation (Badlands 8)

This whole escape thing would have been so much simpler if we could’ve taken the main road that everyone used to come and go. That was next to impossible, though.

Whereas the lodge was patrolled as an extra safety measure, both the actual entrance and the long tarmac leading to it had a small army just waiting for someone to try them. Not to mention how easily we could be followed on that route.

Plus, I imagined Samael’s reach extended quite a few miles. Proselytes or potential allies could be anywhere. At least this way, if anyone pursued us they’d have to take a boat and then find which way we took in the woods.

The lake came into view just ahead. Mist clung to its usually shimmering surface. Somewhere beyond that white vapor lay the embankment we needed to get to.

The two proselytes Takara had mentioned were both facing away from us.

They were in full Stag-Lazarus gear: dark hooded robes that could pass as black, and the Stag masks with lethally pointed antlers. Samael had wanted that small detail added on purpose. He never wanted his people to be without a weapon.

I’d seen countless individuals impaled by those sharpened horns.

“You take left, I take right?” Poet asked without looking at me.

“Sure,” I replied, already reaching for my gambit.

“You help me with the boats,” Takara said to Travis.

No longer whispering and our boots meeting with wooden slates, the proselytes were alerted of our presence. They turned right as Takara and Travis split away from us, Kara taking my bag from me in the process.

I couldn’t tell who I was looking at whom due to the faction gear—not that it would make much difference.

I couldn’t think of this person as one of my friendly acquaintances. It was them or us, and I had to go with us. The ridges of my blade’s handle felt natural against my palm. It’d been a while since I’d done this, but you never forgot how to kill someone.

“Lilith?” the man questioned.

His confusion was unmistakable.

“Sorry for ruining your morning,” I quipped, walking right up to him.

I raised the gambit and slammed it into his stomach. The sound he made encouraged me to sweep upward, my blade slicing through his midsection as easily as it would butter. My fingers were immediately coated in liquid warmth. He hadn’t even tried to defend himself. A strangled noise flew from his mouth.

One of his hands grabbed for my shoulder; the other went for the thick knife lodged in his stomach.

Looking in the eyes of the mask, I twisted from left to right. Then, using my forearm, I pushed against his chest and shoved him backward, forcing his heavy body off my blade.

His hands were pressed to his stomach as he fell off the dock, hitting the water with a satisfying smack. There was a second splash from the proselyte Poet had been dealing with.

No time to dwell or linger, we hurried towards the boat Takara and Travis had procured. Poet climbed on first, then reached back to help me. As soon as I was fully on board, he moved to the oars.

“Grab the extra pair and row,” he directed at Travis, dropping down to the center bench.

I sat beside Takara, watching the dock for any sign of approaching proselytes.

Poet and Travis were already rowing, gradually lengthening the distance between the boat and the camp, taking us further into the thick fog.

The adrenaline coursing through my veins numbed me to the cold.

When we were far enough away from the docks, I twisted around and dipped my hands into the water to wash away the blood from them and my gambit.

“We did it,” Takara said softly.

“Yeah.” I drew back and turned to sit correctly, placing the blade back in the holster around my waist. “But we’re far from being in the clear.”

“Oh, I know.”

As we got even further away from the lodging site, it began to sink in just what we’d done.

Betrayed our faction.

Betrayed Samael.

The repercussions of our actions wouldn’t just fall on us. I went to run my hand through my hair, pausing when I remembered I’d styled it in a single braid.

I wondered where he was. What he’d do when he got back and discovered I was gone.

I hoped he wouldn’t hate me for this. After all he’d done for me and everything we’d gone through together, I wouldn’t blame him if he did.

Not when I hated myself.

CHAPTER TEN

I knew she was gone the moment I stepped foot back in my territory. A somberness clawed at the air. Proselytes choked on tangible fear.

As they should.

I arrived at the docks just as Grant was removing a second body from the water, their Stag mask long gone.

I promptly told him to put it back.

They were useless to us now, nothing but corpses we’d waste time burying or burning. At least providing a meal for the fishes benefited the eco system.