The City on the Edge

Sloan Manor sat at the end of a long stretch of lonely road that sliced through the thick forest that surrounded the Edge. Ronnie had never laid eyes on the infamous structure. Even in her reckless childhood years she’d never been brave enough to venture up the road that led to the mountainous estate of carved stone and black iron. The stories of the manor and the monster that lived there had been enough to keep her, and many of the Edge’s residents, away. If Sloan didn’t get you, his elite private force would.

Now, she didn’t have a choice to turn away. She was being taken down the dark road like a beast being led to slaughter. Her words of protecting Anya, no matter the cost, seemed like they were made of smoke now, weak and susceptible to the changing winds. She hated to admit it, but she was afraid.

A part of Ronnie felt shame in her cowardice. Anya was family and she was in danger. This wasn’t the time for fear, but the very thought of Sloan’s expressionless face and his cruel demeanor still chilled her. In the back of her mind, she could still hear Valerie screaming and burning while Sloan stood over her watching with an air of disinterest. The man had no empathy. He probably perceived the torture of supernaturals as being done in the interest of preserving order. Those words had been tossed at victims families several time by the White Guard, as if it excused their actions.

Ronnie flicked her eyes to Lorna, who sat across from her. The witch’s small frame trembled so violently that Ronnie didn’t need her senses to catch her fear. The beaded bracelet she wore clinked every time her hands shook. Ronnie wanted to comfort her but she couldn’t find the words. Lorna wasn’t a fool and knew there was nothing Ronnie could say to convince her that they would be okay. She had grown up hearing the same stories about the manor. Those tales lingered, even now, whispers carried on the night air through the bars of the carriage that rattled and shook over the rocky road.

Next to her though, Malik seemed entirely unaffected. Ronnie took in the firm set of his jaw, the steel of his eyes and furrow of his brow. Malik had gotten them into this. He had allowed them to be captured. Ronnie wanted to be angry with him, but she knew what he was thinking. She wasn’t sure if he had an actual plan for when they arrived at their soon to be prison, but she knew what thoughts and emotions had gone into his impulsive decision.

If Ronnie was honest with herself then she would admit that she probably would have done the same if Lorna had been taken in Anya’s place. Technically, she had done the same. She’d run off into a tense fight between Alukorra’s people and the White Guard so she could save a human she didn’t even know. Ronnie couldn’t exactly blame Malik for his choice. If Anya was being held at Sloan Manor, then they needed to go to Sloan Manor. Now they were, just with an armed escort.

It was only the three of them in the back of the rattling carriage, though it was a different carriage than the beast driven one that had been used to take Anya away. They were flanked by stomping beasts carrying guardsmen while they were pulled behind a metal vehicle that hissed and sputtered puffs of black smoke into the air. Ronnie watched it pump and groan and move and spin. She didn’t know how it worked- there were no such machines in the Edge. The only thing she could guess was that it was a designed by the dwarves. They were the builders. During Marla’s Battle, the dwarves had constructed all sorts of terrible machines for the humans. It had been the first betrayal of their kind against the supernaturals.

Ronnie had never seen a dwarf before. No one in the Edge had because, supposedly, they retreated to their underground city after the war and never left. Seeing this machine pulling them up the manor path had Ronnie questioning if it were actually true.

“We’re here,” someone called. “Open the gates.”

Looming in front of them like a giant casting a shadow was Sloan Manor. Ronnie couldn’t help but lean forward for a better look in a tick of morbid curiosity. It was huge- bigger than anything she’d ever seen. Bigger than any building in the Edge, she was certain. It had towers and pointed roofs that held great stone statues of what Ronnie assumed were human figures. There were so many windows of varying shapes, not just simple rough cutouts like in the Edge. Some windows were larger than the door to their house. The manor was constructed of dark brown stone that seemed nearly black in the night. Weird, Ronnie had expected the manor to share the same flawless white marble that the humans used for every building they designed. The fence surrounding the property was just as unfriendly looking as everything else, with pointed tips like spears begging for a foolish body.

“This place is enormous,” Lorna whispered.

“We’ll find her,” Malik’s voice was firm. “I’m not leaving without her.”

“How do you know if that Haron guy was even telling the truth? What if she’s on her way to the Iron City right now?”

“No!” Malik snapped. “I know she’s here. I’ve heard the rumors about Sloan, too. I just always thought it was fearful nonsense.” Lorna shrank back from him and tucked herself against the cold bars as best she could.

The iron gates creaked open as the carriage grew near. It was like being swallowed down the gaping maw of a terrible beast. The knowledge that Sloan would never allow them to leave if he could help it made Ronnie shiver as the carriage rattled through the gate and onto the cobbled path of the estate. The difference between what lay outside the gate and what it was holding was night and day.

The rough forest of gnarled trees with fiery leaves that beckoned the colder months were replaced by finely manicured shrubs that still kept their glossy green color, despite the changing weather. Bushes and trees had been cut into intricate shapes that Ronnie was sure had some kind of meaning to Sloan. The lawn was trimmed so smoothly that it could have been made from sheets of colored glass. There were workers tending to the sweeping lawn and its gardens. That struck Ronnie as odd- she hadn’t expected Sloan to be the kind of warlord who enjoyed colorful gardens.

As the carriage passed the lawn and pulled up to the large front doors, some of the workers looked up to watch them pass and Ronnie got a good look at them.

“Look!” she hissed at Malik and Lorna.

They craned around her to take in the sight of golden eyes beneath shades of dark hair. For some of the workers, their ashen gray skin was exposed to the night sky and their black eyes were nearly imperceptible in the darkness. The moonlight caught the shine of gold shackles around their wrists. Shifters and vampires slaving away to keep Sloan’s estate looking as wealthy as the man himself. At least he allowed the vampires a safe shift to work instead of leaving them to burn crispy in the daylight.

“There’s not a human among them,” Ronnie said.

Malik leaned forward. “Or a witch.”

“Then where are they?”

A guard riding past smacked the bars with the hilt of her sword. “Quiet!”

Malik and Lorna leaned back on their seats and Ronnie turned away from the workers who were still watching them with something akin to despair. It hurt her eyes to look at them, to know she may very well be joining them. She wondered if any of their faces were hanging up in the market, spread across brick walls and sketched out in ink by a kind old man just trying to help.

***

The inside of the manor proved to be just as disgustingly lavish as the outside. Maybe even more so. It opened to a white carpeted staircase that dominated the entrance. The sitting room? Was there another name for this room that served absolutely no function? Ronnie didn’t even know. Did anyone actually need a home this size?

Sloan stood at the bottom of the staircase with his hands tucked behind his back while he waited for the guards to shuffle the three of them around in front of him. He appraised them as they stood there as if he were viewing livestock. He lifted a gloved hand to grip Malik’s chin, turning his head this way and that, before moving on to Lorna. She tried to back away but there was a solid wall of guards behind her. Sloan dug his fingers into her cheeks and he flicked her chin away when he was done with enough force to snap her head to the side with an audible crick.

He stopped when he stood before Ronnie. She braced herself for his inspection, but he didn’t touch her. He simply stared at her through narrow eyes. After a long moment of her wondering what he planned to do with her, he looked away and stepped back.

“The three of you are now the property of Premier King. As captain of the Edge’s White Guard and his most loyal friend,” the words dripped with oil as Sloan spoke, “I have taken it upon myself to remove you from the streets where you can do no more harm.”

Malik spat on the word property as Lorna choked around the word harm. Ronnie couldn’t bring herself to waste any words on him. He’d just stripped them of any rights they had, which wasn’t a lot to begin with. The people of the Edge barely had the right to breath. Sloan continued as if there had been no interruption.

“You are mine to do with as I see fit.” With that, he motioned to one of his men. “Take them below and put them with the others.” Sloan ordered and immediately every white coat in the room jumped to attention and began to move, save for the four that flanked Ronnie.

“Wait!” Malik demanded, yanking his arm from the hold of the guard behind him. “Where’s my sister? I know you have her.”

Sloan looked at him, not amused by the disruption. “Your sister?” he asked coldly. “A witch is a witch. Am I to distinguish between all of you?”

Malik’s face twisted in anger. “Yes.” His jaw clenched tight but he forced the words out through his teeth. “Anya. She’s young. Black hair in a braid. You took her this evening.”

Sloan thought for an exaggerated moment. “Ah, yes. The fool child who thought herself a master thief.” The words dropped from his mouth through each deliberate pause. “I sent her to the same place I send all the animals- below. Perhaps you’ll see her down there. It matters little to me either way.” He waved a dismissive hand, ignoring Malik’s protests and demands.

One of the guards raised their rifle and bashed the butt of it against the side of Malik’s head. He hissed as they dragged him down the hall with Lorna right behind him. Ronnie could hear him still shouting as he disappeared around a corner, not ready to give up. Lorna looked back at Ronnie, the fear on her face plainly written before she too disappeared from sight.

Sloan turned his attention to Ronnie. “You are going somewhere else. Allow me to offer you the hospitality that your kind deserves.”

He turned and walked down the hall that led in the opposite direction. A guard shoved Ronnie after him. She nearly tripped over the plush rug that covered the middle of the floor and left gleaming stripes of dark marble racing up the sides of the hall. Sloan continued as if he fully expected her to be made to follow by the guards. She imagined that there was very little, if anything at all, at the manor that Sloan didn’t control directly. Everything probably functioned exactly as he wanted it to.

“Why are you separating us?” Ronnie asked after a moment of following behind Sloan. She’d lost count of how many silken curtains she’d passed, billowing gently before windows cracked just so to allow in the cool night breeze. “Surely you plan on keeping all the animals,” the word was harsh on her tongue, “together, right?”

Sloan didn’t look back at her, but she still caught his voice. “You are worth far more than the witches. I’m going to place you somewhere that I know will hold you.”

The words threw away whatever scathing retort she had on her tongue. She was worth more? Why? Ronnie hunched her shoulders, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer when, if, she found out.

As they turned the corner, there was a tumble and the muffled thud of something dropping on the carpet, cushioned by the expensive cloth. Sloan ignored the person he’d startled and continued on, but Ronnie stopped when she met the newcomer’s blue gaze.

A familiar face that somehow kept finding her.