The City on the Edge

Though Ronnie hadn’t managed to secure the hellhounds, at least she could say that the trip into the forest wasn’t a complete loss. She still had the key to the vault, part of it, anyway, and the key to iron gate was tucked safely in her pocket. Her mood soured at the thought of needing to go to her father in order to secure the unlocking spell. Why he even had it to begin with was beyond her. Taven was a shifter, not a witch. He couldn’t do anything with the spell except hide it.

Ronnie grit her teeth, stomping though the tangle of weeds and overgrown ferns that marred the path back to the Edge. Lorna and Sebastian trailed behind her, struggling to keep up with her furious stride, unsure if they should say something or let her stew in the frustrating realization that they were all being tugged along on Alukorra’s strings, like marionettes before a master puppeteer.

“Ronnie?” Sebastian called to her hesitantly, only slightly breathless. No doubt her fiery feelings were burning through his body and setting him on edge.

Clenching her hands, Ronnie slowed to a stop and waited for the two of them to catch up. Fingers trailed over her tense shoulders, Lorna’s and Sebastian’s both, kneading the muscle in an attempt to ease her anger, a united front against her storm. Sebastian’s calm demeanor, winter to her summer, settled over her and she relaxed.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Ronnie let out a huff of hot air. “No. I don’t like being pulled around like this by Alukorra. I guess I understand what needs to be done, but all of it, the secrets and withholding information, I don’t like it. I’m not her pet, but I certainly feel like I’m being treated as one.”

“At least we have the keys.” Lorna took the disc from Ronnie. “With them, maybe she won’t be so demanding.”

Ronnie snorted her disbelief. “I doubt it. Liva said it’s missing the unlocking spell. Plus, we don’t have the other half. That fairy is going to send us after it, though, I can already tell.”

“Probably.”

“May I see that, please?” Sebastian asked, holding out his hand.

Lorna shrugged. “Sure. It isn’t much, though.”

Sebastian took the disc and ran his fingers over the smooth surface. Ronnie watched him examine it, the way the tips of his fingers dug into every groove, and the curious expression that settled over his face, as if he were missing something and wanted desperately to remember.

“What is it?”

“Probably nothing,” he said, muted and distracted. “I just feel like I’ve seen this before.” He met her eyes. “I know you don’t talk about him, but Liva said your father traded something for this key. Do you have any idea what it could be?”

Don’t be angry, he’s just asking, Ronnie told herself as she smothered the familiar anger that rose up whenever someone questioned her about her father.

Sebastian seemed to feel it, his expression morphing into something apologetic. Ronnie reached out a smoothed a hand over his. “I don’t know anything about any of this. I honestly thought he was dead, or at least far away. I haven’t seen or heard from him since my mother died. That was fourteen years ago.”

Sebastian turned his hand so that he could twine his fingers with hers, giving them a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry.” He gave the disc back to Ronnie. “Though, if he’s been in the Cavern this whole time, I suppose he is technically far away.”

“Deep underground where not even the sun will look at him,” Ronnie mumbled. “We should get going. I don’t like being out in the forest at night and Alukorra will be waiting for this stupid thing.”

She wasn’t exactly looking forward to meeting with the fairy again. Alukorra had a way with words, she spun a nice fantasy of a world with free magic and no Blue Sickness, but Ronnie didn’t trust a single purple hair on her head. Not after all the loss that seemed to be happening around her. The sight of Malik burying his only family made her heart clench. Even Alukorra’s actions with the hellhounds seemed cruel, strangers or not. Help her or stay trapped.

A wave of sweet sugar swept over her, a gentle reassurance from Sebastian. Ronnie glanced over at him and the way he held out his hand for her. Always asking permission. She took it, matching his hesitant smile with one of her own.

“Oh, you two,” Lorna mumbled, but the words were light and devoid of any anger.

Despite the losses and the weighted mistrust of Alukorra, Ronnie supposed that things weren’t all bad. There were two good examples on either side of her. She’d imprinted on what her people would call the other half of her soul. Her best friend was still by her side, even though they’d exchanged some hard truths. The feelings between them were still raw but it was clear that Lorna wasn’t going to leave her. It was more than she could ask for and more than she felt she deserved.

The last couple of days had been an emotional whirlwind. Long gone were her days of lazy theft. Her shield as an anonymous face in the crowd, picking locks and pockets with deft hands had evaporated like boiling water the moment Sloan saw her face and recognized her. Ronnie huffed a quiet laugh, earning a questioning prod from Sebastian. If she were being honest, her entire world was flipped the moment she and Sebastian laid eyes on one another in the market.

Too much had happened for her to walk away, as much as she wanted to. Alukorra had been right, all long. From her new human companion, to the horrors under Sloan’s manor and the loss of Anya, things around her were changing and they refused to be put to rest. This was her world now.

An acrid odor tickled at her nose, strong and burning in her nostrils. Smoke. For a moment, she thought that perhaps Ignis had changed his mind and wanted to return with them after all. When she looked around, peering through the trees, she didn’t see the glow of his burning body. She didn’t hear the crunch of his bare feet on the forest floor.

“What is it?” Sebastian asked, alerted by her sudden shift in behavior. He followed her gaze, turning in place and looking around.

“I thought maybe Ignis was near. Don’t you smell that smoke?”

“Smoke?” He sniffed uselessly at the air. “I’m fairly certain that no one can smell what you can, Ronnie.”

“I know I smell it,” she muttered, taking a few steps forward, trying to trace the origin. She raised her head, looking over the towering height of the trees. Smoke rose above the canopy like a phantom, almost imperceptible against the dark sky, like paint smeared from one color to another. Ronnie realized what it was, her heart puttering to a stop in her chest.

The Edge was burning.

Her legs were moving before her brain gave the order, leaving the startled shouts of Sebastian and Lorna behind her. She waved over her shoulder wildly at them, a signal to follow that she hoped was communicated. She powered through the underbrush, breaking through the tangle of weeds and vines that wrapped around her ankles. She refused to slow down.

Questions raced through her mind, alighting new fears as she contemplated each one. How much of the Edge was on fire? Was it Sloan? Had anyone died? Had the fire reached her home? The faces of Malik and Constance and Hazel and each little child crumpled to ash and she forced herself away from the terrible thoughts. No. She refused to think of them as dead until she saw the bodies for herself. She would lose no more family today.

With the rush and power of her people, Ronnie broke through the tree line, coming out on a street she barely recognized beneath the haze of grey smoke and the debris that littered the street. A cacophony of terrified screams and clash of metal swallowed her ears, demanding her attention.

Copper carried on the breeze swept up the raging fires. She followed it, cautious, with claw and fang ready for anything that might come at her. Unfortunately, what she found wasn’t something she could fight. The side of a building, a bakery, she hazily recognized, had been painted in crimson splatters of absent mercy.

Bodies were messily huddled together, their tight hold on one another gone limp when the life left their limbs. Ronnie crept close, her breath coming ragged and her knees going weak. The bodies wore faces unfamiliar to her, but the tragedy had her almost tumbling to the ground all the same.

A family. Together in a pool of blood that still smelled fresh. A father and mother, kneeling in the dirt with their arms still around their son. Thick open wounds, clean and precise from the swing of a sword, marred their skin. The little boy, no older than Liam, maybe younger, still had his eyes open. Ronnie clenched her fists, tears welling up in her eyes.

Swords. This was the work of the White Guard. How could they do such a thing? What crime could this family, this child, have possibly committed, she wanted to scream. She held her tongue, knowing there would be no answer that could possibly justify this murder.

Only days ago, Ronnie had stood before a vampire intent on taking Sebastian’s life. The vampire had been so angry and hurt at the ways of the humans that he was willing to kill Sebastian, who had done nothing.

That he exists is crime enough.

Those had been the vampire’s words. Is this what the sentiment caused? Is this what Sloan and Blackburn and the rest of White Guard felt when they looked at supernaturals? That simply living was enough of a reason to be put to death?

Ronnie crouched down in front of the bodies. Who had been killed first? The child or his parents? She reached out, her hand trembling uncontrollably, and pressed the tips of her fingers to the boy’s eyelids. Slowly and carefully, she closed them, hoping that it would grant the child some kind of peace.

Footsteps came up behind her and she barely registered that her name was being called. A body knelt down next to her, exuding a sweetness that repelled the coppery tang of the blood. It wasn’t enough. Ronnie could still smell it, could still taste it on every inhale as it settled on her tongue, demanding to be remembered.

“The White Guard did this,” she sniffed, turning to meet Sebastian’s sorrowful eyes. “They’re tearing through the Edge.”

“I know,” he said grimly. “Even through the smoke, I can see all the bodies.”

Ronnie turned around, taking in her surroundings fully. Lorna stood several feet away, hands clasped tightly over her mouth as she breathed raggedly through her fingers. Further down the street, through the screen of smoke, the silhouettes of more bodies could be seen. Most had dropped in the street, wounded while running away, while others were collapsed half way into their homes and businesses in futile attempts to hide.

“Why are they doing this?”

Sebastian’s hand drifted down and grabbed her own, clenching it tight. “I think this is because of us,” he said slowly, as if he were afraid to speak the words out loud. “I don’t think we were meant to leave the manor alive, but we did, taking Sloan’s secrets with us. Everyone here knows he’s horrible. Even in the Marble City, he had a reputation for extreme methods. But actually imprisoning people and turning them into whatever those monsters are? That crosses a line for sure. I refuse to believe that my father sanctioned any of it. If word gets out, Sloan will lose his captaincy. He’ll lose his place here in the Edge and in the Marble City. He’ll lose everything. I’m guessing he’s trying to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Lorna whirled around, stricken by his words. “You mean this is just retaliation? A tantrum? Because he got caught?”

He nodded. “I think so.” Ronnie could almost hear the apology dancing on his tongue, words he’d already offered a dozen times because he didn’t know what else to say. She turned to face him, ready to tell him not to apologize, that he didn’t have to say he was sorry for the things Sloan had done, ready to repeat Hazel’s words.

One is not responsible for the actions of others.

The ground rumbled beneath them before she could get the words out. Ronnie shot to her feet seconds before the building next to them erupted, turning glass and stone into bullets. The force knocked Sebastian back, lying him out flat on the ground.

Ronnie raised her arms, doing her best to turn away from the projectiles. They stung when they hit her, little glass shards embedding themselves into the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders.

Like a sandstorm from the desert, a cloud of dust and smoke overtook them.