Shadows (Ashes Trilogy 2)

Kincaid’s face flooded with genuine shock. “What are you saying? I took an oath.”

“Yeah, only maybe not to Rule,” Weller said. To Yeager: “That girl’s right about another thing, too. Kincaid and Jess, they’re real tight. I think we got to keep an eye on her. Maybe if Kincaid’s not allowed near her, she’ll wake up.”

“Or she might not,” Kincaid said. “Rev, you keep me from doing my job, you might kill her.”

“Perhaps she deserves nothing less. Go, Weller. Do whatever you think is best,” Yeager said, and then turned to Chris as Weller ducked out. “You will also reap what you sow. You do understand that?”

“Yes,” Chris said. He thought his voice was steady, but he felt the sweat pearls on his upper lip. The world as he knew it was again coming to an end. He’d seen it happen, with his own eyes, right in this room. Nathan and Jess and . . . and Kincaid?

They killed Alex. They sent her out of Rule and into the Zone. They murdered her just as surely as if they’d put a gun to her head and pulled the trigger.

“Good,” Yeager said. “I would hate to think that any blood kin of mine, however tainted, is a fool. You have defied me; you have sided with those who would ruin me, the Council, Rule. You have chosen a girl over me, and that will not stand. Alex is done, too. If she returns, I will not give her sanctuary.”

“She wouldn’t crawl back to you. She’s survived before, without our help, and she’ll do it again.” God, he wished he believed that.

“You know her that well?”

“I know how I feel about her.” He willed his gaze not to waver. She would fight this old man. She would never back down, and neither would he. As soon as he saw his opportunity, he would go after her, because, maybe, there was still a chance. “You can’t take that away.”

“True. But I will take you.” Yeager’s eyes drifted to Kincaid and Lena, and then locked, once more, on him. “I will take you all.”

18

It was what Crusher Karl would’ve called a filthy night. When the large drays pitched a fit—dancing and kicking when the guards boosted them onto the running boards—they almost went nowhere, which would’ve suited Lena just fine. The wagon was open, and a single lantern bounced and swayed as the thickening snow drew down in a dense, billowing curtain that swirled and eddied and muffled all sound. They might as well have been in a tornado in a bell jar or snow globe. The wind snatched and plucked at her hair because they hadn’t let her get a hat, and her ears were so icy they burned. The lantern was a swinging fuzzy blur, and their guard, a mountain of a man, had been reduced to a white hump.

A sudden gust scoured her face. Lena winced, blinking as tears pooled. She wanted to wipe them away, but her fingers were numb even in gloves because of the plasticuffs. When the guard zipped them on, she tried tensing her muscles, but then he’d slapped her hard enough to sting.

“None of that funny business, girl,” the guard said, wrapping a chain around her waist that he locked to a thick metal O-ring. “Seth might be old, but Seth ain’t stupid.”

“No, Seth’s just an ass**le who can’t speak in the first person,” she said, but there was no fight in it and she’d only groaned when Seth yanked the plasticuffs so tight the zip sounded like a wood saw.

Now, she straightened, gritting her teeth against the bite of plastic in skin. Her wrists were wet. Blood. Just one more thing. She ducked her head, smearing her burning eyes on her shoulder.

“You okay?” Chris asked. He was on her right, his head and chest and shoulders frothy with snow.

“No. I can’t feel my hands. These cuffs are too tight.”

“Yeah, me neither. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Do you know where he’s taking us?” She’d realized as soon as they turned out of Jess’s street that they weren’t headed into town but east.

“Torture house,” Kincaid said. When he looked down at her, a mound of snow slid from the brim of his Stetson and plopped into his lap.

“What?”

“Well, they call it the interrogation center, but . . . oh yeah.” Kincaid swayed as the wagon dipped in and out of ruts. “Sometimes the boys get overly enthusiastic. Afterward, they call me and I get to patch up whoever they’re working over so they can start in again.”

“Torture?” Her voice thinned to a squeak. “You mean, they’re going to—” She whipped her head around to Chris. “You know about this?”

The light was bad, but she saw him hesitate. “Well, I—”

“Oh my God, you do.” Her bravado had evaporated, and she wondered again what the hell she’d been thinking. She didn’t even like Alex. And if Chris knew they were torturing people, why didn’t he do something to stop it?

“They’ll just try to scare you,” Chris was saying. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

“That’s not a promise you can make, Chris. ’Sides, my guess is she does have information.” Kincaid eyed Lena. “Do you?”

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” she said. “You’re one of them.”

“Oh, right. I’m so glad you reminded me I’m one of the bad guys, in case these cuffs weren’t enough.”

“How can you joke around?” She was feeling sick again and badly needed to pee.

“I wasn’t aware I was.” Kincaid paused and then his tone changed. “You’re from up around Oren.”

“So what? It’s not a crime,” she said, and then thought, Shit, I make it sound like it is.

“You don’t owe him any explanations, Lena,” Chris put in.

“I can talk for myself.”

“I’m just saying—”

“Whoa, whoa,” Kincaid said. “If you two can’t do better than that, you’ll be sunk in ten seconds, maybe less. Chris, you of all people ought to know that.”

“Is there a question in there?” Chris asked.

“Should there be?” When Chris said nothing, Kincaid went on: “Chris, it’s what your grandfather asked. How do you know where to look for these kids you keep finding?”

More silence. Lena could feel Chris shutting down, throwing up barriers. A torture house, and Chris knew about it . . .

“You got some kind of system,” Kincaid said. “Has to be it. You got this clockwork-like thing going, if I’m remembering it right. Of course, if you had a little help.” Kincaid’s Stetson moved fractionally, and Lena felt the burn of the old man’s eyes on her face. “Someone kind of local, maybe? Clue you in where to look, or how?”