Brink (The Ruin Saga Book 2) (53 page)

“He lied to all of you.”

Lucian said nothing.

James looked into the fire’s ashes and stood, pacing around on the bloodied floor. Jason stood aside for him to pass, watching, waiting—Lucian imagined he could see his snout twitching like a bloodhound’s. An eruption of fluttering made him turn to the entrance, where a ruffled pigeon had just pushed through the flap, which proceeded to fly up and alight upon James’s outstretched finger. The bird cooed in seeming contentment.

He wanted to deny it was really Him, the Pigeon Keeper. His brother. He
needed
to deny it.

But every passing moment was mounting up evidence that made it impossible. It was almost too much: after all this time, James was suddenly and undeniably
there
.

“I knew he lied,” he said eventually. “I knew from the second that first feather was left on Alex’s doorstep that it was you.” He shook his head. “But he knew long before that, didn’t he?”

James didn’t move, his back to him, facing the fire-pit.

Alice in Wonderland
drew Lucian’s gaze, lying on the ground right before him, taunting him with its reality.

“Where have you been all this time?” Lucian breathed.

“Here. North. Around.”

“Why didn’t you ever come back?”

“To what?”

Me. You could have come back for me. I could have done with having my brother around, the one who saw the world in front of his face instead of some stupid vision. I might not have turned out such a tetchy prick
.

Lucian swallowed.

The entrance rustled yet again, and this time when Lucian looked up he saw Charlie standing there, gaunt faced. Lucian could have sworn the boy was burning a hole clean through his skull. “I was hoping you’d made a break for the cliff,” he said. His voice was flat, bearing no resemblance to the juvenile squeak it had been when Lucian had first hauled him blubbering and squealing like a pig from the sewers of New Canterbury. “There’s so many people keeling over down there. I thought maybe one of those bodies was yours.” He stepped into the tent and leaned over to whisper in Lucian’s ear. “I hoped I’d get the satisfaction of watching you suffer a little longer.”

Then he stood up and shifted with noticeable apprehension. “So, I did it …”

“You did,” James said. His eyes were unreadable.

“You said I’d get revenge.”

“You will.”

“So I can take him?”

“No. You’ll leave him be. We have things to discuss.”

Charlie’s body twitched as though struck. Lucian heard the echo of the unverbalised protest.

“You heard, boy. Go on, get.” Jason waved his hand dismissively. “You did your part, now get back to those fires. Lazy bastards are slacking off while you stand there yammering.”

Charlie’s voice was low, quivering. “You promised.” He was blushing, but he was holding his own. Lucian had to give it to the kid, he had balls. The feral monkeys who had cut down Max and the others had scampered away from James and Jason as though chased by demons. And here he was squaring off against them on his own.

If he wasn’t lobbying to cut out my heart, we might get along just fine
.

“You’ll have what you’re owed. I keep my promises, Charlie. But we judge only on what choices people make; we punish only the sins we know.”

“I know a damn good one. He killed my father!”

“Did he?”

“
Yes!
”

“How do you know?”

“Because I told him,” Lucian said. “It’s true.”

Charlie’s lip was shaking, his eyes red and wide. “See? He admits it.”

James returned to his stool and whispered sweet nothings to the pigeon for a while. “It was Jason and I who killed your father, Charlie. You know that. He’s a casualty of our cause just like so many who’ve sacrificed. Lucian was defending himself.”

“My father would never have hurt anyone. He was forced to break into that city.”

“Exactly. We made him go. And he got killed. End of story.”

Charlie gesticulated wildly. “So what? That’s it? How do I get what’s owed to me if he gets a clean slate?”

“You will get what’s owed to you—what’s
really
owed to you. And what’s owed to you depends on the choices Lucian makes, here and now. But killing your father wasn’t a choice, it was a necessity.”

“I … You can’t … You son of a bitch. You tricked me.”

“I never lied.”

Charlie was blinking, blank-faced. His face was dripping with silent tears. “What was all this for? Why the tricks, having me bring him here, having me babysit him down there?”

“I needed him to come to me. I needed to know he was still my brother deep down, even if he’s sitting on the wrong side of the fence.” James sighed and rubbed at his face under the balaclava, his eyes shining with pain.

Somebody cleared their throat at the tent’s entrance and one of the ragged women poked her head in, face pinched and scarred by eczema. Even her cruel face was fawning and watchful as she addressed them. “You were right. They sprung the trap.”

“How many alive?”

“All of them.”

“Where are you keeping them?”

“Here. Outside.”

James straightened. “Bring them in.” He turned to Charlie. “As I said, I have business with my guests. Go, now. Make sure they’re ready. It’s time.”

Charlie’s lip curled. “What makes you think I’m doing anything for you?”

Jason squared his shoulders but James held up a hand to quell him. “Don’t forget why we picked you and your father up in the first place. They starved you out, stole your home, and they’d do it again if it meant holding onto what we’ve all already lost.”

“So what? It won’t bring my father back.”

“No, it won’t. But it will stop them making more orphans while they chase the Old World’s shadow.”

Lucian felt Charlie’s eyes burning him again, but couldn’t look at him anymore. A few seconds later, he heard Charlie tramp outside with a curse.

A moment later, a great many more footfalls became audible. Lucian tried to peer through the crack in the entrance, but it was quickly thrown aside again, and a group of people were shunted inside. His guts, turned to slurry, slithered up under his tongue when Norman, Robert, Richard, DeGray and a whole troop of others from back home were marched in with their hands bound. They each in turn registered shock at the sight of him, but Lucian gained control of himself with colossal effort and hardened his brow, shaking his head minutely. They got the message; their faces had grown blank by the time they had been wrestled into kneeling positions beside Lucian.

If this was how bad things were, they needed to be solid, make it look like they’d planned this.

In moments the tent was busy with over a dozen captives. A good number, if they could get the upper hand.

“I hope this isn’t my bloody rescue mission,” he muttered.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Robert said, kneeling beside him.

“We thought you were dead,” Richard whispered on his other side.

“Shut up,” Lucian said.

“Screw you. I came here for Scots, not your sorry arse.”

Lucian blinked at Richard’s stony expression and leaned across to look at DeGray. “What happened to your star pupil?”

John DeGray, rotund and sweaty as always, shrugged. “Turns out one of us has a spine.”

Lucian smiled when he saw Norman beyond Robert, but Norman was staring up at Jason with a snarl.

Jason sauntered up to him, this time not even looking to James for permission. “How’s the chest?”

Norman spat up into his face. Lucian could have laughed if he hadn’t felt so hollowed out. The kid had been saving up a good hock that basted Jason’s face and bandaged cheek with a stringy lather of spittle and snot.

“Nice,” Lucian said.

“Glad you’re alive,” Norman said without taking his eyes off Jason. Then he addressed the bespittled wolf standing over him. “Feeling better all the time.”

Jason wiped away the spittle with a disturbing lack of disgust. “You sure you want to waste your time?” he said to James. “I could finish this now.” He waggled his knife.

“Yes. Leave them.”

Jason shrugged. “Little cat-and-mouse never hurt anyone, I guess.”

“Go help Charlie. He’ll need it.”

Jason snorted. He was grinning right up until it became obvious to everyone that James was being serious. Then the smile slowly faded from Jason’s mouth, and he grunted. “Fine,” he said, licking his lower lip. Lucian sensed his bottled rage even from six feet away. “Fine.”

He stalked past them all and exploded from the tent, waving for the last guards to leave with him. James waited until it was just him and the people of the mission. Casually, he placed the pigeon on his shoulder and crouched to pick up the pistol Lucian had dropped, glancing at Robert and nodding as though words of significance had passed between them.

“I was just starting to like him,” Lucian said. “Where’d you get your dog, James?”

“The same place I found all these people: where you left them.”

“Don’t tell me you found that one curled up in a hole begging and pleading like some charity case. I know born killers as well as you. He’s been looking to hurt anything that breathes since the cradle. I suppose that’s why you can keep him on a leash: all this is the perfect excuse for people like him. Carte blanche for genocide. Congratulations.”

“He has his uses.”

“I bet.”

Robert, at James’s head-height even though he crouched on his knees instead of being sat on a stool, seemed to expand, somehow taking up more space as he said, “So it’s you. You’re the one.”

“It’s a pleasure.”

“What have you done with the rest of our people?”

“We have fires that need stoking, and blades that need sharpening.”

Norman leaned forward to catch Lucian’s eye. “You two know each other?”

Lucian’s gut twisted. “Used to.”

James caught his eye, but said nothing.

“You bastard,” Richard said. His acne-scarred face was quivering, his thin frame looking even more brittle than Lucian remembered—he had always given him a hard time, but it was only now that he realised just how young Richard was.

Shit, he’s just a kid.

Richard glowered despite his cracking voice. “Everything we sacrificed, all the progress we’ve made—”

“Richard, shut up!” John hissed, eyeing the gun with sweat rolling into his eyes. “Just shut your mouth. You’ll get us killed.”

“No!” Richard cried. “No. I don’t care.” He rounded on James. “You’ve undone everything, set us back decades. You’ll send everyone back to the stone age.”

“Yes. I will.”

“How could you? How could you cause so much pain?”

“I could ask you the same question. How many times did you stop to think about the mouths that went unfed so that you could keep rooting through libraries, fat and plump?”

“We’re fighting to make everyone’s lives better.”

“In the long run. Eventually. When the world turns for the better. That’s the mantra, isn’t it? But in the meantime, it’s fine to trample over anyone in your way?”

“At least we’re doing something.”

“So am I. I’m putting an end to the plague Cain started. What I helped him start.”

Richard said nothing.

Robert made as though to stand, dropping back only when James waggled the pistol once more. “Fine, you’re a saint. Tell someone who gives a toss. Stop playing and end it.”

James ignored him, strolling along past each of them in turn, inspecting them, until he came to stand in front of Norman. He paused and the two of them shared a look; though Norman looked confused, Lucian was impressed by the temerity of his gaze.

“I have to hand it to you, Norman. I didn’t think you could live up to all those stories Alex wrapped you up in. But here you are. You surprised me.”

“Turns out I’m full of surprises,” Norman said. “Why don’t you come a bit closer and I’ll show you.” Lucian almost jerked at how different he sounded, how powerful. He sounded like a different man altogether.

He even talks different, like a leader, like …

James is right. Just like how Alex always painted him in the stories. Give him a few days and he’ll be ten feet tall and throwing lightning bolts.

Lucian took a moment to peek at the knots binding the others.

Damn, tight
.

They’d never get out of them on their own. But still his spirits were buoyed. The idiots had got themselves caught, but it hadn’t broken them. They were all raring to take some scalps.

“What are you doing, really? What’s this all about?” Lucian said.

James laughed, a harsh rasping noise. Lucian wondered what was under that balaclava. “This is about justice. And don’t bother with playing innocent. We both know nobody’s innocent here.”

“We hurt you. You’re angry; I get it. God knows, if it had been me … I’d have burned every damn thing Alex ever touched to the ground a long time ago. But I know you. You always saw what he saw. You knew the Old World held the answer. You believed in the mission—you knew it was the way forward!”

“Take a look outside this tent. You’ll see every able body in the land setting to tear apart all that’s left of what Alexander Cain has done.”

“No, what I’ll see is madmen and criminals looking for blood, holding hostage whoever else you’ve left alive.”

“The suffering is temporary, a pinprick compared to what’s to come if the mission goes on. Because that’s what it’ll take to save the Old World—that’s what it’s always taken. A few have to be raised above the masses and treated like Gods, and all the while those under them get pounded into the mud.”

“That’s not true.”

“Tell me something, Lucian. Did Alex ever do something that wasn’t in aid of his great destiny? Did he ever do something that didn’t make you think he was willing to throw somebody—anybody—away to get the job done?” He turned to Norman. “Tell me … Did he ever ask you even once whether you wanted to have the life he made for you?”

Norman didn’t answer.

“That’s what I thought.”

“How do you know all this?” Norman grunted. “Just who the hell are you?”

“I was the Chosen One,” he said simply. “Before you, before any of your friends here, it was me with the great destiny, standing by his side.”