Chapter 20 #2
Beyond the school is a grassy sports field, and I spot a group of children kicking a ball around. A young boy, about five or six years old, spots us and breaks away from the group.
“Grayson!” he yells, running toward us.
Gray breaks out in a smile, the tension leaving his body. He crouches and scoops up the boy, swinging his little body around while the kid shrieks in delight.
“When did you get here? Can we go flying? Please?” His words tumble out in an excited rush.
“Ah, I’m sorry, bud. I can’t today. I’m showing Wren around.”
“But you promised you’d take me next time you were here!”
Gray ruffles the kid’s dark hair. “I know I did, but I don’t have time today.”
I note the easy camaraderie between the two of them. I’m not really a kid person, but it doesn’t surprise me that Gray has a way with children. He comes off as a big kid himself most of the time.
The boy glances at me. “Are you a pilot, too? Do you fly better than Grayson? Because he flies better than a bird.”
“I’ve heard that,” I say with a smile. “But no, I’m not a pilot, unfortunately.”
“This is Wren,” Gray tells the boy. “She’s new here. Wren, this future pilot is Fisher.”
Fisher…Isn’t that what Poppy called Evlynne’s son?
“Did you know,” Fisher says, fixing big solemn eyes on me, “that pilots who are really, really good are called aces?” He holds his hands out, miming an airplane soaring through the air. “Aces are the best pilots in the world. They do loop-de-loops and fly upside down.”
“Upside down?” I echo, feigning amazement. “No way.”
“It’s true!” He nods seriously. “My mom is a pilot, and she told me. She’s an ace because she’s the best.”
“I thought I was the best,” Gray accuses.
“Nope. It’s Mom.”
“Well, damn. Guess I should just retire my wings and get into farming.”
I pat Gray’s arm. “It’s okay, ace. Second-best isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”
“Fisher!” one of the boys on the field shouts, a whine in his voice. “Come back to the game!”
“Oh no, I forgot,” Fisher exclaims with the most adorable sheepish smile. “I have to go!”
Before we can blink, the kid is gone, running back to his soccer game.
I turn to Gray. “That’s Evlynne’s son?”
“Yeah. Great kid.”
“How did Evlynne manage that?”
He snorts. “Ev’s not that bad. She just has trust issues.” With a pointed look, he adds, “Like some people I know.”
“You’re comparing me to Evlynne? Nope. Take that back.”
“ ‘Nope,’ ” he mimics. “You two have more in common than you think.”
We finally reach the covered courtyard I saw from the air. I realize it’s a gathering place. A round pavilion with scattered tables and other seating, wood-burning cooking stoves, even a small stage.
“This is the square,” Gray says.
“But it’s a circle.”
“Well, we call it a square. I don’t know why, so just fuck off.”
I choke down my laughter as I follow him toward the hub of activity. There are nearly two dozen people in the square today. Some are standing around, smoking tobacco cigarettes, chatting. Others are seated, eating some kind of smoked meat that smells fantastic.
Nearby, a trio of men plays a dice game that I don’t recognize, while across the pavilion, I see several card games in progress.
And one chess game. Ugh. I detest chess.
Uncle Jim tried to teach me how to play, but I was terrible at thinking so many moves ahead.
I’d always do something impulsive and get my ass kicked every time we played.
I remember learning in school that chess is one of the oldest games in existence, over fifteen hundred years old, but honestly…I wish we just left it in the Old Era.
As we enter the square that is actually a circle, I receive plenty of suspicious glances, and Gray’s voice is gentle as he speaks close to my ear. “Don’t take it personally. You of all people should know that Mods are wary of outsiders.”
“It’s fine. I’ve never been good at fitting in with either Primes or Mods.”
That’s what happens when you’re keeping so many secrets. When you’re spinning a web of lies with too many threads to keep track of. I kept secrets from Jim. From Wolf. From Tana.
When you’re always hiding something from someone, it means you can never be truly open with anyone.
I thought that would change when Wolf revealed himself to be Cross. I thought I finally had someone I could share every single part of myself with, but even now, I’m still keeping things from Cross.
“Gray!”
I snap out of my thoughts as a woman with chestnut-colored hair ambles over, a beaming smile stretched across her face. She wears brown sandals and a plain linen dress in a muted shade of blue. On the Continent, it’s difficult to find bright colors or patterns unless you’re one of the elites.
“This is a nice surprise! You didn’t tell us you were coming,” she says, pulling Gray into a warm embrace.
“Hey, Bea.” As he steps out of the hug, he introduces us. “This is Wren Darlington. Newest addition to the Dagger.”
Her smile shifts to me as she leans in to shake my wrist. “Welcome, Wren.”
“Beatriz is Luisa’s mother,” Gray tells me.
“Have you two eaten?” she asks. “Seth just let me know that lunch is ready.”
“Oh, I don’t know if—” he starts.
“You’re joining us,” she interrupts, her tone firm. “Especially you, Gray. You need to make up for all the meals you missed when you were in the city.”
Gray glances at me. “Hungry?”
We follow Beatriz to a small, cozy cottage at the edge of the village. It has a tidy patch of grass and potted flowers lining the front path. The aroma of cooking food greets us when we walk through the door. Smells like freshly baked bread and something garlicky.
In the main room, an auburn-haired man sits in front of a wood-burning fireplace. He rises to greet us, one hand resting on a wooden cane. His movements are stiff as he walks over to give Gray a quick hug.
“About time you paid us a visit. Lu says you’re always too busy.”
I’m introduced to Luisa’s father, Seth. He’s less friendly than his wife, but I suspect that’s just his personality.
Fatigue lines his features, as if he’s seen some hardships, and from the way he moves, I sense he’s dealing with chronic pain, which is confirmed when he turns his head and I see the burns.
I do my best not to stare, but it’s difficult.
The pink raised flesh runs along his left cheek and down the side of his neck, disappearing under the collar of his gray shirt.
I wonder how far the burns go beneath his clothes.
And as someone who dealt with burns her entire life, too, I know how painful they can be.
“We’re having rabbit for lunch,” Seth says. “Bea’s snares finally paid off.”
“Finally!” Beatriz echoes as she goes to the stove to check the food. “Usually those damn white coyotes beat me to the snares before I can collect my kill.”
“Oh right. Adrienne was telling me they’re a problem on this mountain,” I say.
“We’ve had a big pack prowling around these past couple of years,” Beatriz answers. “They must’ve had a few good litters, because for a while there, they were even coming down the mountain and hunting on the outskirts of the valley. Some were bold enough to walk right into the settlement.”
“Have you ever tried to domesticate them?” I ask curiously.
“Too much effort, not enough reward,” Seth says. “White coyotes are hard to train. Too damn stubborn.”
As we settle around the table for lunch, I can feel Luisa’s father warming up to me, especially as Gray regales them with stories about our time in the Program.
“Before we recruited Wren,” he reveals, “she was so desperate to escape their base that she let someone break her wrist during a sparring match.”
Luisa’s mother shakes her head in reprimand. “Oh, honey. That must have been painful.”
“Agonizing,” I admit.
“And it didn’t even work.” Gray snorts. “They flew in a healer to fix her. Ellis.”
Seth raises one thick eyebrow. “You must have been important to them.”
I don’t want anyone thinking that the Company views me as a valuable asset, so I give a rueful smile and say, “I think my commanding officer had a crush on me.”
Gray snorts again.
After lunch, I offer to clean up, but Beatriz puts Gray to work instead. As they wash dishes at the sink, I join Seth in the main room by the fireplace, watching as he pushes his chair even closer to the roaring blaze.
When he catches me staring, he says, “I tend to run cold.” Then he laughs. “And yes, I realize that’s ironic considering half my face is melted off. You’d think I’d be hot all the time, huh?”
Since he’s the one who pointed them out, I don’t feel as awkward taking a closer look at his burns.
They’re much worse than the ones I used to have.
Mine were the result of a pot of boiling water spilled on me as a child, and as I grew older, the skin slowly stretched and whitened.
Seth’s burns don’t look recent, but he clearly suffered more extensive damage than I did.
His flesh is an angry red. Deep and jagged.
“What happened?” I ask, because I’m too curious for my own damn good.
A dark cloud floats through his eyes.
Fuck. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth.
To my surprise, he answers. “Just another casualty of Valterra Ridge.”
The confession accelerates my heartbeat. “Oh. I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
Seth touches his neck, running his fingertips over the uneven flesh. His features grow taut with anger. “I got these trying to shield Lu when the bombs started falling and everything caught fire. Managed to get her out, but not without some battle scars.”
As he shifts his harsh gaze to the fireplace, the rabbit stew I just ate threatens to make a reappearance. I gulp down the nausea and try to focus on not losing my lunch.
“We learned about the bombing in school,” I say.
He lets out a derisive laugh. “And I suppose the Company narrative was one of victory, huh?”
I nod. The Primes of the Continent were ecstatic about the result of Valterra Ridge.
Hundreds of Mods burned to a crisp by the bombs that rained over their village.
Before the location was compromised, the community had been more of an urban legend.
The General and his people suspected that a secret community of Aberrant existed somewhere in the wards but were never able to find it.
This was partially because Valterra Ridge was located along a dangerous fault line, and it was believed that nobody could survive beyond it. Turns out, a lot of people could.
“It’s good you left that place,” Seth tells me. “The Command, I mean. They warp your mind there. Feed you bullshit until you turn on your own.”
“Like the Tin Block Traitors?” I blurt out.
He grunts. “Yeah. Like them. Godfuckers. Hope they’re burning in hell.”
My throat is almost completely obstructed by the knot of guilt jammed inside it. I want to apologize on behalf of my parents, which is quite possibly the stupidest impulse I’ve ever had, and something I can never do. Telling the truth would destroy everything I’m trying to build here.
Yet it feels like I owe this man something. Like I need to atone. My parents caused more death and destruction than I could’ve ever imagined. I’m sitting here with a man who suffered at their hands, and it makes me want to crawl into a hole and never show my face again.
My stomach flips from the now familiar swirl of shame. This isn’t my sin to bear, I know that, but I also know that everyone would look at me differently if they learned my parents had been traitors to the Uprising.
“They sold us out, but they got their just rewards in the end,” Seth says, shrugging. “God will always have retribution for his children.”
It’s rare to hear someone speak about God in this way. The old religions are banned on the Continent; General Redden had no interest in them. I’ve never known anyone who practiced, but Seth is clearly pious. Maybe he’s earned the right to be, after what my parents did to him.
I suddenly wonder how many other people in the valley are Valterra Ridge survivors, and my hands start trembling. Cross is right. I need to be extremely careful going forward.
“Wren,” Gray says from the kitchen, his tone sharp. “We need to get back.”
His serious demeanor makes me frown. “Everything okay?”
“We have a visitor.”