Dark Age (Red Rising Saga 5)

The Abomination calls out her name and she stops mid-swing. The look she gives him is deep with affection, none of it motherly. No one misses it, not even the Boneriders, but they don’t seem to care one lick. The joy they feel being in their armor again is almost childlike.

“That is the most bent thing I have ever heard,” Clown says.

Pebble squints at Clown. “Did you give us LSD again? You know I hate LSD.”

“Quality stock like Victra choosing a mongrel for a mate is far more perverse than simple cloning,” the clone says. Lilath blinks unhappily at the mention of the Julii. Victra’s sister, Antonia, was my brother’s lover before he died. And she did not look like Lilath. “But that was the opinion of my first life. I care very little, except for the pollution of the gene pool that you and your mongrel children represent.”

“My babies’d eat your heart out with a spoon,” Sevro says.

“Oh please, Sevro. It wouldn’t do to make me fret.” He taps his finger on his chin. “I have learned something watching this Republic. People only obey when it costs them something to disobey. So. The next time you threaten me, Sevro, I will teach you how much it costs, and we’ll see if it happens again. Prime?”

“Don’t talk to me like you know me. I don’t know you. You little…freak. You’re not a real person. You’re just an afterbirth. Mustang, how have you not vomited all over yourself?”

I stay silent, unable to put my cluttered thoughts to words. Daxo, Dancer, Theodora dead. Who else? Holiday? Darrow’s mother? Kavax? Who else because of my monstrous bloodline?

Daxo was my best friend.

And this…this is what killed him?

I feel shattered. If this creature got ahold of Pax…

Thank Jove for Victra. Keep him safe. Keep Electra safe.

“Mustang…” Sevro says. “Can you hear me?”

“Her name is Virginia,” the clone says to Sevro. “The same blood runs through her veins as in mine. I am Adrius, and I am not Adrius. In some ways I am less. In some I am more. I have learned from my first life, studied the archival recordings of the Institute, and the lives of my enemies.”

He sits down in the Morning Chair.

“Pulling apart your Republic was so easy a child could do it.” He smiles. “I cannot rule publicly, of course. In time, perhaps. But until then, my socialist dog will do.” He strokes Publius’s head. The disgraced senator flinches. “I did intend for Pax to be my Passage so I could earn

my scar. But Sefi interfered, and Atlas insisted Lilath not pursue.”

I finally speak. “The Fear Knight would never ally with you. You nuked Luna.”

“He doesn’t know I exist, of course. This was my design, my Day of Red Doves, my little birds sang such sweet songs to me.”

He gestures to the high windows where the pachelbel sing. There were pachelbel in the window when Dancer and I met. There were pachelbel in the gardens where I had so many conversations. But we checked them for hardware when Sophocles kept eating them. It must be something more sophisticated than that.

“Atlas and Atalantia merely liaised with Lilath in the end,” the clone continues. “We were going to sell Electra to Julia au Bellona. Old debts and all.” He smiles at Lilath. She looks pleased to be out of her Red disguise and back in her Bonerider armor. “The fools think they have a puppet on Luna, a Red Queen. What a hollow farce.” He taps his finger to his lips. He is identical to Adrius. Even in his tics, if not in his memories.

“I’m going to kill you,” Sevro says. “Didn’t get the pleasure last time. And it will be slow.”

The clone watches him without emotion. “I told you the next threat would cost you. This is your fault. Gorgo, please bring in the wolf and the prisoners.”

The Obsidian disappears out a side passage.

A moment later, the great Sun Doors at the far end of the hall open. Syndicate thorns guide in a cargo skiff loaded with a giant iron statue of a howling wolf. It thumps against the ground as it sets down behind us. Sounds come from inside. A voice calls out through the iron.

“Min-Min?” Pebble whispers beside me.

“No. No. No. No. No,” Clown murmurs.

Sevro just watches as the iron wolf begins to glow with heat. The iron thumps as the Howlers inside try to kick their way out. Smoke slithers through the wolf’s nostrils. Then the trapped men and women inside begin to scream. As they melt in its belly, their cries of agony funnel through the chamber of the wolf’s throat to ululate into a howl.

When no more howls escape the wolf, and the smell of roasted meat fills the room, the clone speaks. “Did you learn your lesson, Sevro?” Sevro does not reply. He’s not inside his body at all. Neither are Clown and Pebble. Their eyes are glassy, their shoulders slumped. Sevro’s eyes are dry and dead.

“I hope you have, Sevro. Because I have great plans for you. My sister has uncovered ways to play with the mind. I am going to play with yours. So the next time you see your wife, your daughters, you will not even know who they are. I will strip you of all you wanted, as you and your pack stripped me of all I wanted.” He strokes the chair. “Then we will be even.”