Page 171 of Cerulean Truth
Maurice nodded. “Yes, we do. Have you heard anything from Julian yet?”
I gritted my teeth. “No.”
“Okay. Get some rest. I’ll come check on you in an hour again.”
I nodded, closing the door softly behind him.
“Dale’s dying?” James whispered, his voice raw and filled with disbelief.
My eyes widened, and I hurried to his side. “You’re awake.”
James’s jaw clenched. “Did Maurice… leave… anything for the pain?” His words were strained, each syllable a struggle.
I grabbed the bottle from the nightstand and handed him two pills as instructed by Maurice. He tried to down them without water, his usual stubbornness shining through, until I forced him to drink.
His eyes were still closed, his brow furrowed with concern. “Dale?” he groaned again, his voice barely audible.
“It doesn’t look good,” I admitted softly, my heart aching at the thought.
“Damn it.” James took a deep breath, wincing slightly. “He surprised me tonight. Fighting by our side. I didn’t... I didn’t expect that.”
“Me neither,” I replied honestly, then hesitated before asking, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to or feel like it, but… how do you know Dale?”
James sighed, opening his eyes slightly, the pain evident in them. “I can’t tell you everything.”
I snorted, trying to lighten the mood despite my worry. “What else is new?”
He managed a weak smile, appreciating the attempt. “Dale and I… we have a complicated history. We’ve crossed paths before, and not always on the same side.”
“That doesn’t tell me much,” I said, urging him to elaborate.
James grimaced, and I noticed small drops of sweat forming on his forehead. Before he could protest, I ran into the bathroom, wetting a cloth with cold water, and put it on his head, hoping it would cool him off.
His grimace turned into a smile. “Since when are you such a nurse?”
“Since my favorite teacher got himself into a stabbing-pickle,” I teased.
His smile faltered slightly.
“So,” I repeated gently, “Dale?”
James let out a deep sigh, his eyes clouding with memories. “Dale used to be a Board member.”
“What?” I gasped.
James closed his eyes. “They kicked him off. He had a bit of a mean streak and got himself in bed with the wrong kind of people. Three years ago, he made himself some… enemies.” James paused.
I listened intently, the cold cloth on his forehead seeming to help as he spoke.
“Somehow they got their hands on him in Antwerp and tried to kill him. As luck would have it, I was in Antwerp myself that day and learned about the incident through the grapevine. Being First Offensive has its perks, and I got there before anyone else did, saving his life just in time.”
“Wow,” I breathed, absorbing the gravity of his story.
“The Board decided to kick Dale out, felt he made them look bad or weak or something, but when the United Chiefs learned about the incident and my role in it, they agreed to back me for the Leadership position, in succession of Maria.”
James’s words were strained, and I couldn’t discern whether it was because it was painful for him to talk or because he wasn’t being entirely truthful.
“That’s why they overlooked the whole contract-killing thing when you wanted Leadership? Because you saved one of their own?” It finally started to make sense how a contract killer was able to lead an entire Collective.
