“What are you talking about?”
“I’m offering you the revenge you actually want.” Juliette pointed at the Adrenalite chained to the table, who began to thrash against his bonds again. “I’m offering you him.”
“Why should I care about him?”
“Because he’s the one who murdered Stevens. He’s the one who stole your best friend from you.”
Roman’s mouth was suddenly dry. “I don’t believe it.”
“It’s true.”
“No. No way. No fucking way!” Roman shook his head. “How dare you lie to me about this! The Adrenalite who killed Stevens was never caught. If he was, you would have told me.”
“Why would I?” Juliette said. “To keep this machine running, I needed every Adrenalite I could get. And what if I had told you I had captured Stevens’ murderer? You would have demanded to kill him.”
“Of course I would have! He—”
“Exactly my point. So I couldn’t tell you. Honestly Roman, did you not even think it was suspicious that I never tried to help you discover who killed Stevens? Did you really think I would just ignore what happened? Of course not. I got justice.”
Roman’s head was spinning. What if she was telling the truth? What if this really was the bastard he had spent the last three years wanting to kill? Now he was right there, and Roman could finally get the revenge he had become a bounty hunter for.
Sparks looked up at Roman, his eyes pleading.
Roman ignored him. “Why tell me about this now?”
“To remind you what you really believe.” Keeping her pistol aimed at Sparks, Juliette stepped around him to stand directly in front of Roman. Her voice was earnest. “Adrenalites are a plague on this city. But this machine offers a way they can still be used to help this city. It’s the only way they can help.”
Roman kept silent. His gaze flickered between Juliette and the Adrenalite on the table.
“You called me a coward for keeping all the militia here at Reformation Square,” Juliette continued. “But they weren’t protecting me. They were protecting this machine. This is our only way to keep electricity; to keep the technology of the Ancients. It’s more important than me, or you, or your petty revenge.”
Still, Roman said nothing.
“We’re not enemies, Roman. We both want what’s best for this city. We both understand that Adrenalites are monsters. And we will both do whatever it takes to get what we want.” She smiled. “And I’m offering you what you want.”
Roman knew this was all so wrong, but Juliette was right about one thing: sparing her life and protecting the machine was best for Legacy. If the Security Ministry lost its leader, its militia, and its way of providing power to the city, then the ministries would lose the support of the people. If that happened then common thugs — men just like Gavin — would be the next to gain power.
Roman made up his mind. Truth be told, he didn’t really have a choice. He turned his pistol away from Juliette, and towards the Adrenalite on the table.
43
Ruby limped to the Security Ministry. Every step hurt like hell. But it had taken four arrows to stop Caleb, so it would take more than pain to make her give up.
She dared a glance behind. The militia weren’t in any rush to set chase, or waste any arrows on her. They saw the state she was in and were confident she wouldn’t get far.
Except one. A mercenary, not more than a kid by the look of him, sprinted forwards. He held a machete in one hand, a club in the other. Either would be enough to kill her with.
Ruby cursed and desperately quickened her pace. She looked back to the Ministry, but her hopes of Roman coming out now, leading a handful of activated Adrenalites, were painfully slim. As she passed the corpse of a mercenary she bent down and grabbed his discarded knife. At the least, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
She made it to the Ministry when the militia was no more than twenty paces behind. Pushing through the glass doors, she found herself in a chaotic mess of overturned desks and corpses. As she dashed over the bodies, she couldn’t help but look for Roman amongst them. He wasn’t here.
The elevator in the back corner of the reception hall was open. It’s bent door opened into a black void of nothing. Ruby moved to it and looked down the shaft. With her arm in the state it was, there was no way for her to climb down quick enough.
As the doors crashed open behind her, Ruby threw herself behind a desk and hid.
Candle’s entire body was coated in blood and light. He ignored the blinding pain from his wounds, made a hundred times stronger by the extra awareness that came from being activated. This is nothing compared to the pain of the metal bitch, he told himself, and I faced that for years. I can face this. Still, he was light-headed from loss of blood, and his legs weren’t moving with the same strength they normally had when he was activated.
He took the last set of stairs three steps at a time. The sight of the familiar corridor filled him with dread. His instincts told him to run, to leave this place behind, as he once had, and never come back again. But he didn’t listen. He wasn’t afraid.
He had made a promise. And Candle never broke a promise.
The corridor was void of guards. The lanterns which usually lined the wall were all snuffed out. As he strode down the corridor, the disbelieving faces of the prisoners all watched him. They were all gagged — Juliette must have finally gotten sick of the screaming from down here.
His friends would be near the end, as always. Grim; Smoke; Bristle; Light; Quake. His crew. The men who would change this city forever.
But the cell just ahead, to his right, caught his eye. The door was shut, but it wasn’t locked. Interesting. He stepped up to it and—
He heard the twang of a crossbow firing just as a bolt flew out of the darkness and into his right bicep. It lodged inside his muscle and bone and Candle stumbled back, cursing. He recovered his composure, stepped forward and yanked open the door to the cell. Despite the pain, he forced a grin when he stepped inside. “You’re going to regret that.”
His light illuminated the militia who shot him. A mountain of a man, nearly as tall as the cell, with short blond hair. He dropped the crossbow he was holding and pulled a machete from his belt.
Candle leapt forward. He ducked under a swing aimed at his neck, grabbed the militia — using his arm which wasn’t bleeding from the crossbow bolt still in it — and threw him against the wall, which cracked with the impact. The giant regained his posture in an instant. So, he wasn’t a bad fighter then. That wouldn’t make a difference.
The militia stepped forward, faking a swing from the right, then side-stepped and aimed a left-handed punch. Candle dodged easily. He stuck one leg out, crossing it behind the militia’s, and struck with a punch to the chest. The militia stumbled back, tripped over Candle’s leg, and fell. He managed to turn it into a roll and was quickly back on his feet.
Candle moved to strike again, but hesitated. Something was wrong.
The pounding in his chest was weakening.
Shit. The bolt in his arm — it was laced with defoxican, like the ones the militia had used at the station. He had to end this quickly. Once he was deactivated, his wounds would slow him down too much to fight.
The militia swung his machete in a wide arc as Candle charged. Candle didn’t even bother to dodge — he moved close enough to his opponent that he wasn’t hit by the machete, but rather by the arm that held it, which, as a whole, was a whole lot less effective. With a kick to the shin, he drove the militia off-balance. Then Candle slammed his elbow into the militia’s abdomen, following up with an upward punch to the jaw that snapped his opponents head back and sent him to the ground.