Chapter 40 - Water Graves
Kristyon
“You knew as well?” Two voices merge into one, the same astonished look matched in Merya and Mack’s blue eyes.
Merya lunges for the table, the only object separating her from Tabitha, and slams her fist on it, sending cutlery and mugs jangling and rattling across its hard surface.
“And, still, you sent us out there to fight what we thought were just Herionos—bastards with no powers…like us.” She throws a hand behind her, pointing at Mack, who seems glued to his chair and lost for words.
Tabitha sighs but smiles at her. “You knew from day one that this wasn’t an easy job.
Besides,” she holds her hand up when Merya opens her mouth again, “Their blood is like water to us. Otherwise, Roden would have used it against the rebels since the accident in Cleryce. We have been studying it ever since that day to try to find a cure. But you were never in danger, believe me—”
In the corner of my eye, a chair topples to the floor, and a sound like an animal in pain makes me shiver.
“What about our nature? As much as I like to think of you as a mother, our freaking blood doesn’t protect us from shit…” Mack gasps for air, holding one hand to his chest while erratically fidgeting with the other and scratching the skin around his nails.
I intercept July’s puzzled look while I stand up and reach out for Mack’s arm. She starts to move towards us, but I shake my head slightly.
“I’ve always kept you and your sister under strict surveillance.
I’d never endanger your lives, but I didn’t want you to be left out because you would hate me for that.
You’re invaluable fighters in this war, just like the others…
” Tabitha brings her palms together in front of her chest, but Mack ignores her plea.
He slaps my hand away. “But we’re also expendable,” he hisses, his voice resounding like one I haven’t heard in years.
I jump between him and Tabitha before he decides to act irrationally and, pressing a hand onto his chest, I invite him to sit back. “Mack, please, listen to her before saying something you may regret later.”
A large cloud crosses the sky, dimming the light inside the kitchen and turning Mack’s eyes a darker shade of blue. Blood stops pumping violently beneath his cheeks, and he retreats against the wall, clutching the notepad as if wanting to strangle it.
Tabitha’s wince lasts a heartbeat, but I can clearly read the shadow of pain in her eyes when she forces a straight face and moves further inside the kitchen, pointing at the doors.
“Galen, please close the back door. Kris, the main one as well, before Sable decides this clamour is worthy of her invisible attention.” She sounds tired.
Her face is so tense I don’t even dare answer. I just nod and ensure Sable’s little eyes and busy ears are not hiding in the corridor before closing the door.
In sullen silence, we all take a seat at the table.
Except for Merya, who, for everyone’s sake, has decided to brood by the kitchen sink with her hands in her pockets—away from knives, forks, and anything she may throw.
“I can see the dislike for scissors and haircuts runs in the family,” July welcomes me, leaning sideways when I drop into the chair beside her, bobbing her chin towards my brother first, then me.
I rest my chin in my hand, narrowing my eyes at Galen when his head pops up from behind July, giggling.
“Wipe that smirk off your face. I bet you let her style your locks because that’s the only way to have her hands on you—”
Galen freezes and rolls his eyes, mouthing something I can’t understand.
July’s face enters my view. Her unmistakable Harvester eyes study me, one eyebrow arched with unspoken questions.
“That came out wrong, I’m sorry, I…” I mumble.
It doesn’t matter how long Roden keeps us apart.
Every time she comes back, it’s hard to stay still and pretend that I don’t know what makes her laugh with tears, how being by the water makes her feel at peace, or the feeling of her fingers through my hair.
I will always know—but she will always forget the way my eyes smile when she does all these things.
But I’m still a stranger to her, and I’ve just acted like a total idiot, probably embarrassing her in front of the others. Please, just slap me, I pray, hoping she reads my mind and takes me out of my misery instead of staring at me.
“Skilled hands that will do their best to stay away from you. Unless I decide to use them otherwise.” Turns out, words can hurt more than a slap.
“At my full potential—” she continues, drawing her attention to her fingernails. “On your soul.”
My jaw drops.
Deigning me a quick smirk, she leans back in her chair, letting Galen fully back into my view. His profile is the perfect picture of indifference, even if I know he’s gloating inside.
The opposite of Merya, who, still standing by the sink, tries to swallow down laughter with water.
A knock on the door is a welcome distraction. Mack exhales loudly from his spot, and I throw a quick nod in his direction to make sure he’s calmed down. But also to stop thinking about how close I am to July when her left thigh brushes against my restless leg.
“Come in,” Tabs says hastily. But her features relax when Jyn’s head appears through the door.
“Can someone give me a hand, please?” he asks, gingerly shouldering the door open wider, a pile of rolled papers stuck in his arms, swinging dangerously.
Mack and July rush to help him, racing to grab as many rolls as possible.
“Thanks, kids,” Jyn laughs, holding his belly with one hand and blotting the sweat off his forehead with the hem of his brown linen shirt.
“What’s all this?” Merya asks, stretching her arms up like a cat that’s just woken up, sauntering towards Mack and July, her initial discontent seemingly forgotten.
“Have a look for yourself,” Tabitha gestures to July to hand her over the scrolls.
Having picked the longest, she undoes the piece of string tied around the paper, unfolds it and invites us to gather closer.
A partial yet well-detailed map of Horigos appears beneath our eyes.
“Hey!” Merya complains as her brother forces his way between her and Tabitha.
“I don’t remember drawing this one.” Mack leans forward and scratches his head, tapping a finger on a white square in the lower-left corner of the map. “Our base is too small. And where is my lake?”
The version of a hurt and disappointed Mack, already tucked away in the past.
“Your lake? You created that?” July comments over Mack’s shoulders, balancing on her tiptoes and using his right arm as a support while they bend over the map to exchange quick words with a rediscovered familiarity I cannot ignore.
Merya and I lock eyes, sharing a brief smile. She plops her right thigh on the only spot on the table not occupied by the huge map and, dangling her leg, crosses her arms over her chest.
“You can spend hours asking whether Mack is behind this or that contraption. He has built ninety percent of this building. Here’s the quickest answer,” Merya says, encompassing the whole map with a swipe of her hand.
“And the tunnels,” Mack interrupts, looking at July to his right and puffing his chest with a boyish grin. “And drew all the maps, of course.” But his chest deflates and bright pink warms his cheeks when he realises July is still holding onto his arm.
“Impressive,” July comments, stepping away and pretending she didn’t notice Mack’s reaction. I’ve witnessed many versions of July, but her natural gift to read people has never changed.
“Well, not all of them.” Jyn decides to join the conversation, squeezing his way between Tabitha and Galen.
“This is a map from before your time.” He taps a finger on the image of the building, tracing its walls and the green patch of wild land surrounding it.
“This was how Ventiol and its outskirts used to look years ago. Centuries ago—we think.”
An intricate net of thin black lines branches out from the base of the building and runs across the four sides of the map, gathering here and there into larger dots.
“What are the names inside the dots? I don’t recognise any of them.” Merya asks, wedging beside me to better observe the other side of the map.
“Let me show you.” Tabitha steps away from the table to open a drawer under the sink and comes back, holding a marker.
She uncaps it and starts crossing the dots. “You don’t recognise the names because these villages and towns no longer exist,” she says, without lifting her head, striking names off the map as if listing casualties.
When only a few places remain untouched, Jyn steps behind her, placing a hand on her back—an invitation to stop staring at the map, which now looks like a graveyard.
We’ve been listening as if stuck inside a bubble of silence, but the sob that escapes Tabitha bursts it.
A tear, stronger than her will to look unmoved, rolls down her cheek and drops on the map, darkening a little spot on the paper.
Her fingers, splaying over the map, threaten to claw at the extent of lands and flat versions of long-gone town squares and to shred the miniature reproduction of Horigos into pieces.
Jyn scans our faces while stroking Tabitha’s back, meeting the same sadness that’s now shadowing her eyes.
“I found similar maps hidden in one of the tunnels. The same we used to take you here,” he addresses July.
Another loud sob shakes Tabs’ shoulders, but she eventually straightens her spine and rubs one finger under her nose, sniffling.
This is the first time I’ve seen this fragile side of her, and I’m sure it’s the first for many in this room.
“I’m sorry,” she says, squaring her shoulders and patting her cheeks with the back of her hands.
“At least now we know you’re not some perfect killing machine. Unless what’s wetting your eyes is the lubricant of your engines.” Merya shrugs and, surprising all of us, smiles, melting the remnants of their earlier disagreement off her face.