Testament (23 page)

Kellan nodded. “You’re right. Plus, there should have never been a pageant to throw us together. I should have never been an arrogant jerk and picked you when you clearly didn’t want me to. Then, none of this would have happened.”

“I’m glad you picked me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m glad in a way,” I corrected. “If you’d never picked me, you and your mother would still be estranged, and your life would be in danger. My parents taught me a long time ago that bumps in the road serve a purpose. And that in every pothole, there is hope.”

“In every pothole there is hope?” Kellan repeated, his brows furrowed.

I giggled. “Yeah, you see you’re supposed to take the word ‘hope’ out of

‘pothole’.”

“Ah, I see now.” He grinned at me. “Cadence’s Words of Wisdom…I like it.”

I nudged him. “Watch it now.”

“Okay, okay. I get it. And I’m glad I met you, too.”

We sat there a few moments, staring into the dark. “So we’re friends now, right?” I asked.

He bobbed his head. “Yup, friends.”

When we went back inside, Maureen was already up and had taken another “refresher” bath. She and Artie were behind the counter, pilfering through the cabinets for something to make for breakfast. Micah had rolled over on his stomach and was snoring softly. As Kellan went to freshen up, I eased down on the mattress beside Micah. Gently, I brushed the shock of dark hair away from his face. “Wake up, sleeping beauty,” I whispered.

His brows furrowed as he struggled awake. I leaned over and planted a kiss on his cheek. When I pulled away, his eyes were still closed, but he was smiling.

“You’re not playing fair, you know. Here I am trying to be all nice to rich boy, and you’re throwing it in his face,” he whispered.

“For your information, it’s all good between us, now.”

Micah propped up on his elbows. “Really?”

I nodded. “We had a really good talk this morning. We’re going to be friends.”

“That’s good to know.” He peered over his shoulder and then over at the counter. “Where is he?”

“In the back.”

“Hmm,” Micah said, wagging his eyebrows.

I laughed. “Um, we still have an audience, you know.”

“I can live with that,” he said, as he brought his lips to mine.

The door blew open with such force the glass shattered. Ten armed soldiers stormed inside. Micah started to reach underneath the mattress, but a dark skinned guy who wasn’t in a uniform stopped him by pointing his rifle at him. “Okay, okay,” Micah murmured, putting his hands up.

My gaze flickered to the soldier next to him. It was a girl about my age. As I gazed at her further, she reminded me of the dark skinned girl from my dream.

Kellan came out from the back and skidded to a stop. “What’s going on?” he asked.

As if on cue, Roarke strode through the door, a cruel smirk on his face. “Good morning,” he called, pleasantly.

Silence permeated the room as none of us responded. Wagging a finger at us, Roarke said, “You all are not an easy group to locate, but fortunately, I had a little help.” He motioned to the dark skinned girl and boy. “Of course, they don’t really appreciate palace scum of any kind, but for the right price, anything is possible.”

“Are you here for us?” I asked.

Roarke peered down at me and then over at Micah. “You two? You’ll be dealt with in due time.”

“Then why are you here?” Kellan demanded.

“Why I’m here for you, of course,” Roarke replied.

Kellan’s eyebrows shot up while Maureen gasped. “Me? What could you possibly want me for?” Kellan asked.

Roarke laughed maniacally. “Because I’m about to dispose your father from power.”

My head reeled as scenes from my dream rocketed through my mind.

Kellan shook his head. “You should know me well enough to know I have no desire for politics, so there’s no reason to take me in.”

Roarke’s eyes narrowed. “Are you really that stupid boy? The only thing you represent to me is the hefty ransom I’ll get from your father. It will help to pad our administration’s pockets.”

“And if my father doesn’t pay?” Kellan questioned.

“Then I’ll simply take you to his cell, slit your throat, and let him watch you bleed to death right in front of him.”

When Maureen let out a strangled cry, Roarke turned to her. “You’re going to serve our purpose as well. We’re sure to rake it in from your brother bleeding dry the family trust.” He nodded at the soldiers who stepped forward and grabbed Kellan and Maureen.

I sat paralyzed as they tied Kellan’s hands behind his back. I hadn’t felt as powerless since my parents died. Roarke looked back at us. “Now, I’ll answer the question you posed earlier, Cadence. Even though I didn’t come for you, I can’t have you scampering about the countryside. So, my tracker friends here,” he motioned to the dark skinned girl and boy, “have very kindly offered to take care of the messy details of selling you two into slavery.”

He paused to survey our expressions. “Yes, I guess you wouldn’t know there’s a whole market for slaves these days. Can’t say I actually know what happens to you once you’re bought by someone, but I wish you all the best.” He grinned cruelly.

“What about him?” one of the soldiers questioned, jerking his head to Artie.

Roarke surveyed Artie’s mournful face. “He’s a useless coward and always has been, but now he’s a traitor to the cause.” He cocked his head, appearing thoughtful. “Kill him.”

“No!” Maureen screamed.

Artie could do nothing but stand frozen, crippled with fear. The soldier raised his gun and sent a single bullet tearing into Artie’s chest. He fell back against the countertop, crying out in agony, before slumping to the floor.

Tears stung my eyes at his lifeless form. Roarke’s face showed no emotion as he turned to the dark skinned boy. He reached in his suit pocket and took out his wallet. Snatching out a wad of bills, he tossed them into the boy’s face and then they fluttered to the ground. “You’ve been very useful. My administration won’t forget this kindness,” Roarke said.

The boy refused to answer him. Instead, he kept staring ahead while the girl beside him tucked her head to her chest. “I’m sure you’ll be able to get a fine price for them.”

 Roarke said, gesturing in mine and Micah’s direction.

The boy gave a short bob of his head.

Roarke’s eyes narrowed at me. In a flash, he gripped me by the shoulders and jerked me up. “With her pretty face, I’m sure she’ll get an extremely fine price…and she doesn’t deserve that.”

With one hand, he reached into his jacket pocket and took out a switchblade. “I need to do a little work on you—make it where no one but the dregs of society would want to buy you.”

Before I could protest, the blade pierced my cheek. It drug along my jaw-line, and I felt a rushing spurt of blood. A scorching burn raged through my cheek, and I screamed. “Hmm, that’s better,” Roarke said, surveying his work. “A scarred beauty queen.” He calmly wiped the blade on a handkerchief and then put it back in his pocket. “All right, let’s go!” he shouted, as he started to the door.

Gripping my bleeding cheek, I watched as the soldiers pushed and shoved Kellan and Maureen to the door. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Evil couldn’t keep triumphing over good because every-time it did, it was like my parents dying all over again. Once again, I was completely and totally helpless. Devastated again.

And then, they were gone.

When the last boot heel stopped echoing in the distance, the dark skinned girl came to my side. “Here, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She took me by the elbow and led me over to the sink. I was careful not to look over to where Artie’s body lay—I was afraid it might truly send me over the emotional abyss. The girl gently started washing the blood from my face. Once she had cleaned it, she pushed a clean towel onto it. “Fortunately for you, Roarke has no skills with weapons. It doesn’t look too deep. We’ll have one of our medics look at it when we get to camp.”

“Thank you,” I murmured, still in shock at what had happened and from her kindness.

I staggered back over to the mattress and peered down at Micah. He sat frozen like a statue, staring at Artie’s crumpled form and the sea of red staining the floor. “Micah?”

He didn’t respond.

Kneeling down, I tugged on his sleeve and repeated, “Micah?”

He wouldn’t or couldn’t look at me. Instead, he stared, unblinking. “It’s PTSD,” the girl said softly.

I jumped having forgotten they were still there. I turned back to her. “Excuse me?”

“Sumayyah,” the boy warned.

“Have pity, Naseer,” she replied.

“We had a job to do, and we did it. Now it’s time to take them back to camp.” He knelt down and started gathering up the money Roarke had thrown at him.

“I don’t think those ideals are in the Quran,” she argued.

I gasped. “You’re Believers?”

Sumayyah adverted her eyes while Naseer sucked in a frustrated breath. At his response, she shook her head. “Fine, you can take them in. I don’t want any part of it!”

She started stalking to the door, but I grabbed her arm. “Please, don’t go. If you didn’t already know, we’re Believers, too!” When she still didn’t look back at me, I said, “Look, I don’t care what faith you are. I mean, we all believe in a higher power, right? And we all want to live in a world where we’re free to worship openly, right?”

Turning back to me, Sumayyah smiled. “Yes, you’re right.” Naseer growled, but she said, “Your friend, he’s experiencing PTSD—Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Seeing what happened to that man triggered memories in him.”

“His father was shot in front of him,” I murmured.

“We’ve seen it a lot with our members when fighting breaks out. They freeze up or start crying, and some even begin acting or talking like they did in that moment of crisis.”

“So, are you a member of the Muharib?”

Her eyes flickered to Naseer, and he nodded. “Our older brother, Taj, is the leader, and he’ll be mad as hell when he finds out we revealed our identity to members of the Abir.”

Shaking my head, I argued, “But, we’re not exactly Abir. We’ve not even been underground but a day. We escaped from the palace.”

Both Sumayyah and Naseer’s eyes widened. “You came from the palace?” Sumayyah asked.

“How did you get past the guards? We’ve heard since the Abir has been threatening them, it’s turned into a fortress,” Naseer noted.

“We found a way past them. Maureen—she’s been funding the Abir even though she’s not a Believer.”

“She’s still Richard’s wife, right?” Naseer asked.

I nodded. “Well, I guess you could say that, even though he’s kept her imprisoned the last four years.”

“We don’t have a benefactor like the Abir. We’ve been trying to find ways to bolster our funds. That’s why we offered to help track down Kellan and Maureen. We keep watches on all former palace contacts, so we knew to check out Artie,” Sumayyah said.

Naseer rolled his eyes. “If you’re ever taken prisoner, Mayah, they don’t have to worry about torturing you to talk. You’ll tell them everything in the first few minutes!”

While they bantered back and forth, I knelt down beside Micah. Taking his hands in mine, I leaned over and kissed his cheek. My breath hovered over his ear, “Come back to me, Micah. I’m here for you, and I love you.”

I pulled back and stared into his face. Slowly his eyelids closed, and then they fluttered until he opened them wide. “Cadence?”

Throwing my arms around him, I squeezed him tight. “What happened?” he asked.

“You experienced a triggering emotion which brought on a PTSD episode,” Sumayyah answered, scientifically. At Micah’s blank look, she blushed. “Sorry, I was planning on becoming a psychologist before the Great Fall.”

I rubbed Micah’s hands. “Roarke had Artie killed, and when you saw him get shot—”

His eyes closed. “It was my father all over again,” he murmured.

“I’m so sorry.”

Micah sighed. “It’s okay.” He stood up and started over to Artie.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

Turning back with an anguished face, he said, “After they shot my father, they just left him. And my mother and I had to flee. W-We couldn’t even bury him—we had to leave him like a dog on the floor of our house. There was no Shivah period of mourning for him, no Kadish—the prayer for the dead.
Nothing
.” He knelt down beside Artie. “I won’t do that to him.”