Page 9 of Xantera
Are you there?
Like he knew. He knew he could talk to me, be present in my mind, communicate beyond the Wall—which means not every citizen of Xantera is an empty, vacuous body to be controlled.
For the first time in my life, I have a link to the inside. How this man found the necklace laced with the blood of myancestors doesn’t matter right now. If the Guardians take him while it still hangs around his neck, he’ll die for nothing.
This opportunity cannot be wasted.
Throw it, I yell in my head.
Anyone, anything, would be better than one of those Twelve parasites getting their hands back on the one, tiny part of me I have on the inside.
Rip it off your fucking neck, I urge him further, more vicious, forgetting his name he told me mere hours ago.Do not let them take it again.
The man’s mental grunts are like punches to my gut, and I take off running through the mist of the forest. It’s so thick it feels like rain against my face. A chill follows it. But I need to be closer, to feel the stone against my body.
My veins ignite as I approach it, a chaotic energy wrenching through every nerve. My spine straightens, I stretch my legs, and my arms reach out.
I press my claws against the ten-foot-thick Wall, ignoring the pain that zaps me. There’s a path that winds to the left and right from the amount of times I’ve paced the perimeter. Scratch marks rise above my head from the number of times I’ve tried to climb it.
I was so close this time. So close to instructing this man how to open the Wall, only to have the hope ripped from my heart.
Anger surges again at the sound of another scream. I slam myself into the stone and growl,Throw the necklace if it’s the last thing you do.
I’m met with only silence.
Immediately, my healer instincts kick in.
I zone in on every detail of Diggory as the sentries drag him toward the Blood Moon Palace, from his ragged screams to the trail of blood splatters he’s leaving in his wake to the crooked dip near his collarbone as the sentries tug even harder on his arms.
Guardians, they actuallydislocatedhis shoulder.
I don’t hesitate this time. Several straggling passerby gawk at me as I sprint toward Diggory, but for once in my life, I don’t have time to assess whether my manners are appropriate or not. My focus ishimand the way his cries of pain are shredding my insides apart.
“Hey. Hey! Let him go!”
The sentries crank their heads in my direction. Like every other citizen of Xantera, they wear badges pinned to the front of their cloaks, butunlikeevery other citizen of Xantera, they get helmetsand weapons, too—not to be used against us, but against the Monster in case of a breach.
Now, though, I find my eyes shooting to the rapier swords sheathed against both of their hips as their eyes widen then narrow at me through the slits in their helmets.
“Back away. This man is a danger to society and must be—”
“No, no, no.”
I’m close enough that I can see Diggory’s face now. The bruises have yellowed slightly, but fresh cuts and scrapes glisten on his cheeks and forehead and…
“He’s one of our residents at the Healing Center,” I explain as quickly as I can, trying to fabricate a good enough story using what I think is the truth. “He just has a concussion that I missed during my initial assessment. It’s made him loopy and disoriented, but I promise if you can just escort him back to the Healing Center, I’ll get some meds and fluids in him, and he’ll be good as new by next week.”
At the sound of my voice, Diggory’s gaze travels to my face, blood vessels spiderwebbing in the whites of his eyes. They widen in recognition before glazing over, as if he’s straining to listen to something or someone beyond me.
The sentries only pause for a moment.
“Guardians’ orders,” one of them says firmly, and then they’re dragging him away again.
I watch them go, rooted in place and scrambling to come up with something, anything, to say to get them to stop. But a direct order from the Guardians isn’t exactly something you can argue with. I’d be better off stealing one of their rapiers and slicing off my own head.
Yet I can’t quit staring, evaluating every move Diggory makes and every move made against him, as if I can still fix this by writing a report on his health condition when I get back to work.
And that’s why I notice him scrabbling at his throat, tearing something from the folds of his cloak, and chucking it to the side in the midst of his struggle to resist.
