“Sparks.”
“What about him?”
“You should have trusted him from the start.”
Roman grimaced, then took another considerable gulp of whiskey. “Yeah. I should have.”
“So you regret it?”
“That doesn’t mean much. I regret nearly everything.”
“It means something to me. It means you’re finally changing.”
“It’s a bit too late for that though, isn’t it? After tomorrow, I don’t think it will matter.” Roman stood, picking up the shovel he had brought. “But before that, there’s something we need to do.”
Ruby knew this had been coming. Still, she wished they could delay it a little longer. Roman led the way as they entered the station. Ruby could feel death lingering in the air. She remembered the screams from that morning. How many people had died here, a hundred? More than Legacy had to spare, that was for sure.
It didn’t take long before they passed the first pair of bodies: two militia, both women. One had a bow, although it was broken. The other’s arm had been torn off. Blood was sprayed across the nearest wall. Ruby’s stomach churned. She finished off the last of the whiskey.
It only got worse from there. Ruby quickly resolved not to look at the bodies, or focus on the smell of dried blood.
Her heart caught in her throat when they found Tan.
His eyes were open, his face locked in eternal shock. He hadn’t bled out too much — the arrow had made a clean puncture through his chest. He was so still. That was what finally made it real for Ruby. Tan never stayed still for long.
Roman’s expression was unreadable as he handed Ruby the shovel, then picked up Tan and held him against his chest.
Ruby couldn’t stop herself from feeling guilty. If only she hadn’t let herself get captured by Gavin, this wouldn’t have happened. She opened her mouth to apologize, but something in Roman’s eyes told her that this wasn’t the right time to speak.
They left the station the way they came, then circled around the outside of the station, heading out of Legacy. They walked a hundred yards into the barren wasteland outside the city. Ruby hated it out here. There was only one reason she left the city: burying a body.
Roman careful laid Tan down on the dirt, took the shovel back from Ruby, and began to dig.
The last of the light faded as the hole deepened, and Ruby felt the first tear dampen her cheek. She didn’t try to stop the second. For all his faults, Tan was a friend. He deserved to have someone cry over his grave.
And Ruby didn’t think Roman was up to the task. She watched him carefully as he worked. The dirt was wet from the rain, but it was still tough and full of rocks, and soon Roman was sweating from the effort of moving it. He had the same stern frown he always had. But Ruby knew him well enough to see the difference, to see just how distraught he was.
Of course he wouldn’t cry like her. He never did. Just like when Stevens died, Roman didn’t know how to show his grief. Back then he had committed to killing as many Adrenalites as he could. This time it was Juliette he would punish. It was the only way he knew how to deal with anything.
Digging a grave always took longer than it should, but eventually Roman finished. He gently laid Tan down into it. Before he could begin to bury him, Ruby had her hand on his arm. “Wait.”
She knelt next to the grave, then, with all the reverence she could give, she reached down and closed Tan’s eyes. His skin was cold. Rubbing her eyes dry, Ruby laid down the empty bottle of whiskey next to his body. It felt fitting. She stepped away. Roman laid the first shovelful of dirt.
Just as digging a grave took too long, filling one never took long enough.
Ruby didn’t know how long they stood there for. It might have been hours. Eventually, she knew it was the right time to speak again. “Is there anything you want to say?”
Roman’s frown deepened. “I never really told Tan what he meant to me when he was alive. It’s a bit late to say it now he’s gone.” He sighed. “I guess I can add that to my list of regrets.”
“Maybe you can say it anyway.”
Roman nodded, then, voice shaking, he said, “He was my friend. And I’m going to miss him.”
“Me too,” Ruby agreed. “He was a bad flirt, a terrible drunk, and a good man.”
“Yeah. He was.”
Ruby shivered, hugging herself tightly. The warmth the whiskey had provided was quickly wearing off. She tried to ignore the cold. After burying a friend, it felt wrong for something as meaningless as a cold breeze to matter, but somehow it did. She didn’t want to be cold, not right now.
Roman put his arm around her. She stiffened at first. Then, after a deep breath, she leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. She wrapped both arms around his chest.
There was still a lot to say, but, between them, they didn’t need words.
PART FIVE
Revenge
39
They tossed Sparks onto the cold concrete floor of a dark cell.
He couldn’t remember being unhooked from the machine — he must have passed out. When he came to, two militia were dragging him down a flight of stairs. His knees bumped against every step, but he made no effort to walk for himself. After the machine, any other pain just felt trivial.
They took him to a long corridor lined with barred cells, dimly lit by a row of lanterns. Sparks thought the cells were empty at first, but then he saw a boy – barely ten years old judging by the look of him – hunched over in a corner, shivering.
In another cell, he recognized the girl who had been brought here with him, the one who had tried to fight back. She knelt by the bars, watching Sparks sullenly as he was dragged past. Half her face was a swollen purple and blue bruise from where the militia had beat her. Sparks thought about saying something, but there was nothing to say that could make any of this any better.
His cell was at the end of the hallway. The stale air reeked of piss and of someone who hadn’t washed in… their entire life. The lanterns didn’t reach this far, so it was nearly pitch black. Groaning, Sparks pushed himself to his knees. His chest felt like someone had bent all his ribs open and wedged hot gravel around his lungs and heart. He ran his hand across it and his fingers came away sticky with blood. Thin metal staples knitted together his skin that had been cut open. They had done that much for him, at least.
A face appeared out of the darkness. “Well, you’re a new one. Aren’t ya?”
Sparks flinched. He had hoped he was alone. The man moved closer, revealing his thin white hair and beard, and pale skin layered with wrinkles and sores. He was so scrawny that Sparks almost expected he would be able to slip through the bars of the cell door.
The man grinned, showing his last two teeth, both black with rot. “Welcome to hell, boy.”
Sparks crawled to the wall and huddled against it, wishing he had a blanket. It was freezing. “Who are you?”
“My name’s Bruise.”
“That’s a stupid name.”
“I didn’t pick it.”
“What are they doing to us?” Sparks asked. “They activated me, but there were these wires in my chest, and this big machine… it hurt like…” He couldn’t think of anything like it.
“So you’ve already met the metal bitch.”
“What is it?”
“It’s how the ministry gets electricity from us.”
“Electricity? From us? How?”
Bruise shrugged. “Just does.”
“But electricity comes from the wind farms. That’s where—”
Bruise chuckled. It turned into a cough, which then turned into a violent succession of coughs. When he finally finished, he said, “Ain’t nobody goes to the wind farms. Cause there’s nothing there. All the electricity comes from right here.”