I felt dumb, but I had to ask, “Of what?”
“Where everything is in the ruins. Or used to be.”
If we had complete maps of the tunnels, I wouldn’t need to count everywhere I went. How many steps, how many turns. I could memorize the paths and hold them in my mind before going into the dark. We had maps of trips we made often, like the route to Nassau, but we’d had no idea where the back ways led, or about hidden rooms full of relics, like the one Fade found.
My awe and elation faded as I recalled that wasn’t my job anymore. I had no purpose. I wore a Huntress’s scars but I had nobody to protect.
“Can you find her?”
“If she hasn’t moved. It’s a lot of ifs.” He started walking.
“Why didn’t you go to her, after your sire—”
“Because it was too far. I barely made it to the underground.”
“But you think we can do it now.”
“You’re tough,” he said. “And we’re not stupid brats.”
For the remainder of the night, we walked in silence. Fade watched for landmarks and familiar streets. I wondered what it was like for him, if he remembered passing this way with his sire and if those memories felt like another life. I tried to imagine living Topside, and even now, I found it more of a dream than a real thing, as if I would one day wake from this wild, unlikely world with Twist’s foot in my ribs and hear him demand I get up and get to work.
In the dark, I could see as well as anyone, and I noticed the shadows almost at once. I tracked them in my peripheral vision. They seemed to be stalking us, more than readying to attack. But maybe that was worse. Maybe they were, as Fade had predicted, gathering numbers for their next attempt.
“Do you see them?” I whispered.
“Gangers. I told you they’d bring more.”
“How many are there? Can you tell?”
He shook his head. “But there will be twice as many as last time. They won’t underestimate us again.”
Even as he spoke, they rushed. There had to be at least twenty, this time. Some were young enough that I’d call them brats. Their size made me hesitate; I’d been raised to protect brats, not fight them, so I didn’t react fast enough. I fought, but they didn’t fight like Hunters. They kicked and bit and scratched and leaped like wild animals. Sheer numbers overwhelmed me and one clubbed me across the back of the head.
I heard Fade calling to me as the world went away.
When I awoke, it was dark. Not nighttime, as I’d come to know it up here, or the blackness of the tunnels, but a soft, textured darkness. They’d tied something around my eyes. I tried to sit up, found my hands bound behind my back, and slammed my face against a hard floor. I could tell they’d taken my weapons. Another shift told me my ankles had been tied too.
Laughter erupted around me. I didn’t give them the pleasure of seeing me struggle further. Worry ate at me. Where was Fade? A strip of cloth in my mouth prevented me from speaking, or I’d call out, even if it meant a boot in the face.
As the ringing in my ears subsided, I distinguished voices and then words. “Who gets her?” someone demanded.
A high, thin voice answered, “I do. I brought her down. I own her.”
A different male spoke, low and mocking. “Good work, cub. But you wouldn’t know what to do with her.”
Instinctively, I knew I should fear the owner of that voice, even as he knelt beside me. He pulled my blindfold off and left me to recoil at the sight of him. His whole face had been carved up, not from battle like Fade’s scars, but in a purposeful mutilation. The lines bit deep, and he’d painted them red as blood; they striped his skin in savagery. The marks shocked me, maybe because I didn’t understand their purpose.
His eyes reflected the firelight; they were pale as rainwater and flames danced in their depths. “So you’re awake. Where do you come from that you fight like a Wolf?”
He snatched the tie from my hair, but unlike when Fade did it, it wasn’t a pleasant shock. It was invasive, and when he twisted his hand in my hair, it hurt. He turned my face side to side, inspecting me, and pure fear slithered through me at that gesture. Those light eyes examined me as if I were a strange creature.
I tried to tell him with my eyes that he didn’t want to do this, that he would be sorry before we finished this story, but I didn’t think it worked. In response to my look, he laughed. As I lay there, bound and helpless, I knew only one thing: I’d die first. I hadn’t fought my way out of the tunnels to wind up like this. He pulled the cloth from my mouth, just enough to let me answer.
“Underground,” I bit out.
Interest kindled in his savage features. He whispered, “Then you’re worth something, more than just a Breeder. Later, I want you to remember how I saved you.” He straightened and spoke loud enough for his Wolves to hear the order, this time. “Take her and clean her up. I’ll break her in personally later.”
Hands grabbed me and towed me away. I felt each seam and divot in the floor; they would leave bruises. The place flowed over me in glimpses. I had the impression of immense space and a tall ceiling as I jolted along. Then movement stopped. My head hit the ground again.
Someone pulled me to my feet and then knelt to untie my ankles. That person was smart enough to do it from behind, or I’d have certainly broken his or her neck with a kick. Twisting round to peer over my shoulder sent pain shooting through my skull, but I managed to see it was a girl. She was small and thin, liberally covered in bruises. Some were days old; others looked fresh. She didn’t wear any marks, so I guessed gangers only gave such status to the males.
She left my hands tied. Smart girl. Well, relatively. She couldn’t be too smart if she took those bruises without complaining, but as I knew, you got used to anything. If she had been born here, among the gangers, she probably didn’t question that this was how things ought to be. I was having a hard time adjusting my worldview too.
With complete indifference, she left the cloth in my mouth and went to work on me with a knife. My clothes fell away in ragged strips and then she washed me like I was a piece of junk she was trying to make ready for use. Twisting didn’t do any good; she only moved closer and completed the job.
Then she dressed me in a long, ragged shirt like she wore. It showed way more of my legs than I liked, and she didn’t give me anything to wear underneath. I supposed that was the point. Fear tried to dilute my anger, but I didn’t let it. Instinctively I understood the purpose of this ritual. They took away my things; they reduced me in rank to one of their cowering, subservient females. But they could never take away the marks on my arms. I’d earned them.
The strong survive, I told myself. Though it was a Hunter tenet, if anything could get me out of this, it was the resolve I’d learned in training. No matter how many times a bigger brat knocked me down in class, I got back up. I fought harder. I learned a new trick, or a new throw. Except in that match against Crane, I’d never been defeated.
Now I regretted not laying into those brats with everything I had, but it was too late to change my circumstances. I couldn’t let panic paralyze me. This might be a new world, but I could survive it. I would.
Finally, she untied the strip of fabric from around my face. I spat on the ground to remove the stale, fuzzy taste. I studied her face. She might’ve been pretty if she wasn’t so beaten down. The poor thing wouldn’t even meet my eyes.
“I’m Deuce,” I said. “And you are?”
She glanced up in surprise, as if she hadn’t known I could talk. “Tegan.”