Chapter 6 Zion
ZION
“Is that…” Kali slid into the seat across from me at the kitchen table. Her lips struggled in deciding whether to pull up or down. “Coffee?” Drawing the blue-and-white-striped cup closer, she stared at the caramel liquid filling the porcelain to the brim.
“I had some saved.” I simply couldn’t bring myself to use the coffee beans I’d stolen from Gedeon before.
The aroma was as bitter as his words if someone dared to challenge him, the flavor as strong as his need to protect those around him, and the shade of the drink reminiscent of his complexion in direct sunlight, when the breeze would tousle his dark waves across his forehead.
But instead of sunshine, today had graced us with a thick fog swirling behind the large windows.
The minuscule water droplets masked the beginning of a new day, the mist rippling as if it was alive, its wisps forming the silhouette of the person whose departure pricked my soles with thorns on each step.
“Zion?”
My fork clanged against the plate full of pancakes I’d made for breakfast, the sound as harsh as the contours of steel appliances and counters, all gray, like the fog, like my mind, like my dreams.
“Huh?” I sipped my coffee, ignoring the burn destroying my taste buds.
“I was saying I have a shift at Vice tonight.” Kali fiddled with the handle of her cup. Sparkles bounced on its glossy finish. “We have to return from the city before nightfall.”
“It’s not safe right now.” Without knowing who the traitor—or traitors—were among our ranks, our main bar had ceased being a secure location. “We still don’t know who the rat is and—”
“Don’t put ideas into her head!” Jayla marched into the kitchen, flicking her auburn braid over her shoulder. “Tarri has today off, so if you take Kali away”—she snatched the last pancake from Kali’s plate and shoved half of it in her mouth—“I will convince her to go on stage.”
Reclining in my chair, I hooked an elbow on the backrest. “If you do that, I’ll change Ava’s schedule so she works on your days off.”
Jayla’s mouth popped open. The freckles around her nose were faint, with spring still too weak to fully coax them out. “You wouldn’t.”
“Believe me, I will.” Standing up, I gathered our empty dishes. “I will also convince Ava to perform without you.” I carried everything to the sink, silver and matte, the metal as cold as Gedeon’s flesh had been that cursed morning when rain had descended from the murky sky.
“She’d never agree to that.” Jayla lowered into my seat and stretched out her legs, her pink slippers standing out in the room full of muted shades. If Gedeon were here, he’d glare at her for daring to bring that monstrosity of blinding color into our common rooms.
But he wasn’t.
Everybody had eaten the tale of Gedeon being assaulted by Ilasall’s military crew and taken to their prison. It was common knowledge that once thrown into the city’s cells, the poor souls never emerged again.
Doling out lies had been stupidly easy, but giving a speech to rally our forces and discourage any creation of factions, promoting unity, now that had been like walking on hot coals.
I’d heard enough of Gedeon’s speeches to construct one myself, but its flow had poured out of me like acid. Venom. Poison.
Each word I’d formed had morphed into a petal of a yellow oleander, Kali’s chosen flower of death. If not for her unwavering presence at my side, I doubted I could’ve finished the monologue.
But it’d worked.
The web of lies had taken root, and Kali and I became the lone guardians of the truth.
Running the plates and forks under the tap, I drawled, “Sadira said the same thing.” It hadn’t even been hard to convince the leader of our tech team to climb onto the stage at Vice. The woman had owed me an unspecified favor, and that was that.
Jayla scoffed. “She only agreed because—”
“Don’t worry about it,” Kali cut her off, her assurance as sharp as the blade of the knife I was scrubbing with a sponge. “I’ll be there. I need a break from everything, anyway.”
Since the first day of Gedeon’s…leave, she’d spent her days either in strategy meetings, training, or mulling over the reports our people brought in.
The breaks she would allow herself had become lunches and dinners, when she’d grab a bite from the kitchen and return to what had used to be Gedeon’s study.
Once, I’d caught her hovering in the doorway of our dining room and staring at the shadows dancing on the walls. The dark shapes whirled and leaped from one spot to another, encouraged by the large cut-out lampshades spinning around the light bulbs.
Tears had marred Kali’s cheeks—an endless river of glittering liquid in the faint illumination.
My fists curled at the memory, and a hot sting bloomed across my palm. The ache slowly spread to my fingertips, following the trail of warmth gushing out of the slice the knife I was cleaning had left.
The flow of water carried the scarlet away, sucking it into the drain, erasing any evidence, similar to how the blackness of Gedeon’s shirt had masked the blood spreading around his stab wound all those weeks ago.
I knew it was an accident, that it wasn’t Kali’s fault, but at the time, the need to make someone pay had clouded my judgment. I didn’t care what their sins were. Anything would have done it for me.
So later that cursed day, I’d roamed the streets, one after another.
The chatter of passersby had rebounded off my ear drums, my mind set one thing: to find the two idiots who had sowed disarray in our compound by stating we were weak and wouldn’t go to war and they had to branch out, leave our compound.
The morons had no clue what had been holding Gedeon back, what had befallen us twelve years ago.
Stumbling upon the fools in a dark and secluded alley had been a coincidence, but a lucky one. Precisely what I’d needed to rid the world of them.
Because, if not for them, our argument in the clearing could’ve been shorter and Gedeon would have been walking right now.
Yet the life essence flowing in the two brothers’ blood vessels and painting my hands hadn’t brought the satisfaction I sought that day.
So I’d returned to the streets, focused on my next targets—the seven new residents in my underground, a squadron leader and his boys. The soldiers we’d captured after Ilasall had attacked us.
Unfortunately, I’d had to enlist Ava’s and Amari’s help in extracting information from the commander. I’d hungered to rain damage, but my promise to Gedeon had included a condition—intelligence above all else.
So I’d sulked in the corner, waiting for the members of my catch-and-play team to gather the necessary information.
But hearing that Ilasall’s main source of information was the mole living among us… It’d snapped my patience.
My favorite knife had sunk into his right eye. The blade had vanished all the way up to the hilt, but barely any blood had pooled around the black rubber handle.
It had been a swift death.
Merciful.
Too soft to quench my thirst.
Now slicing the first soldier open had satisfied a fraction of it. If you were careful in your cuts, mindful of where the arteries and veins lay underneath the epidermis, had intimate knowledge of how to wield a blade, you could make your plaything quiver for hours on end.
And he’d had.
The second soldier wouldn’t stop begging. So his tongue had gone first. Such a fleshy tissue, thick and muscular. And useful. Could serve as a weapon. That was how the third soldier perished—choking on his comrade’s tongue I’d stuffed down his throat and his own vomit.
However, the voiceless Ilasall’s citizen had refused to cease thrashing in his restraints, so I’d scooped out his eyes. Figured he’d calm down. Unfortunately, I’d been proven wrong. The moment he’d awakened, he’d attempted to crawl away.
Obviously, his feet had gone next. They also had given me the idea to pick him apart, dismembering him slowly. I’d taken my time sawing through his joints.
Because torture had a flavor: sweet, bitter, or sour. It all depended on the person chained up.
And that one had been a mixture of all three.
But then I’d switched my tactics. Had peeled the fourth soldier's muscles off his thighs at such a leisurely pace, his body had refused to shut down until I’d accidentally severed a major blood vessel.
Pity.
But a lesson learned as well.
One I’d listened to as I’d flayed the fifth soldier from his toes to his eyelids. Little did he know that his screams had zapped down my spine, coiling in my lower back and making my core spasm.
After his brain had turned off, offering him the salvation of unconsciousness, I’d gotten bored and pulled his intestines out, checking if they would stretch all the way to my last plaything chained to a damp wall.
Much to my irritation, the experiment had caused the sixth soldier to faint. Taking it as a sign to sit back and relax, I’d admired his slumped form while licking the scarlet off the knife, savoring the flavor of iron, hoping the taste of his comrades’ deaths would spark my creativity.
It’d more than fulfilled my wish.
With my knife cast aside, I’d smashed his head into the cement floor until his skull fractured and his jaw disconnected. Half his teeth had scattered around him in the process. A sort of halo for him to take into the afterlife.
A beautiful finish line for my work.
Only it hadn’t been enough. Nowhere near it.
After all, it was Ilasall’s fault Gedeon was gone.
If the city’s military hadn’t slithered into our compound, rounded the participants from the Matching we’d smuggled them out of, and stolen our women for fertility testing—again—Gedeon would’ve been standing beside me. Biting my neck. Ordering me to crawl.
So in the ten weeks that had followed the day he’d died, I’d adhered to a schedule. One guard or soldier delivered to me—or caught by me, depending on my mood—for every three days I’d planned our next moves. Devised a war strategy with Kali, Conall, and Damia. Took care of the compound matters.
Free time drifted through our fingers like sand, as any spare minute meant either training or fucking like there was no tomorrow, both activities involving bruises and cuts, rough and fast.
Kali would tuck herself into my side and murmur my name in a chant while I locked my arms around her, caged her in, and inhaled the cloud of sex and sweat—the glue holding us together until darkness sheltered us under its wing.
Until dawn broke and the cycle began anew.