26.

EMERÍANN

 

The first thing I see when I wake is the crack in the ceiling above my bed. I trace it with my eyes from the spot near my head down into the corner, where it disappears into the wall. It’s not a small crack in the plaster, like something that would happen over the years of the house shifting and settling, but more of a fracture, which makes me wonder what caused it. A concussive blast from a bomb. A tree limb ripped loose during a storm.

My next thought is: I opened my eyes.

Shit. Shit shit shit shit shit.

I spring up in bed, the hologram device clattering to the floor. Goddammit, I fell asleep. I’d been up most of the night studying schematics of the power system and I must have drifted off at some point.

I’m late. I’m so late. And I’m in such deep shit.

I yank on pants and a shirt, snatch the hologram device from the floor, and grab two takeaway cups of coffee for the road, then sprint out to my truck, hoping I can still pull this off.

 

I arrive at the labor farm, sucking down the last of the coffee and wishing I’d grabbed a third cup. My body should still be buzzing with caffeine after drinking several cups last night to stay awake while going over the plans, analyzing and re-analyzing and trying to learn in a few hours what should take months and months… but hours are all I have. Hell, hours are all we have. I hurry toward the central dome.

The sky is a muddy brown out here, even with full morning coming almost four hours ago. Only a handful of the workers are around right now, since most of the main work has been done. I’ve had to kick some asses to get it finished and made a couple enemies, but they made it happen. One worker inspects the exterior of the central dome, which is set up and wired, ready for its first testing later today. The curing pods have been assembled, half of them wired up and ready to test, electricians getting the others prepared. The rest of the people are working on the conveyance mechanisms, which will transport the power from this plant into the city. I think they’re retrofitting a facility in Findchoem to handle, store, and disperse all of this, but that’s not part of my instructions.

Brighid is supposed to be out here after lunchtime, which is when we’re scheduled to do the test. I was supposed to arrive here at least three hours before that, to give myself extra time, but apparently I shot that plan to shit. Right now, I’ve got about an hour to work and get everything ready. You would think that reversing and rerouting the flow of energy shouldn’t be that hard – basically turning a lever the opposite way – but I’m not an engineer. So I hope like hell this works.

I don’t know why it took me so long to think of this. It seems so obvious in retrospect. What better way to save Eitan from Brighid’s plans than to destroy the very thing that she threatens us with? Because the energy that comes with harvesting the soul is stored in one central unit before shuttling it out to the pods, reversing the energy flow will essentially overheat that central unit. As it overheats, the seals that connect the tubes will begin to degrade, which makes them prone to rupturing. And when they rupture, you want to make sure your ass is far away and behind something that will act as a heat shield because it’s going to be a big goddamned boom.

Now I only have to hope my half-cocked plan works and will reverse that power.

I’m booting up the hologram device to get moving on these wires when I glance up and see the worker is no longer inspecting the dome. They’re looking at me. And they’re not just any worker.

It’s that bitch with the long brown ponytail.

“You bastard,” I say as I approach her.

“Shut your mouth, traitor,” she spits. “You gave us all hope that we could be our own country again. All you two wanted was the power for yourselves, and now you sleep under the same roof as the enemy.”

“I am trying to help. That’s all I’ve been doing for the last two years.”

“And look at you now,” she says. “You’re lucky Henraek and his boys were taken by Ødven. He’d sooner cut all of their throats than be seen with you.”

You cunt.

I drop the hologram device and charge her, bending down and driving my shoulder into her gut. We slam back against the outside of the dome. I swing at her head, trying to smack it against the metal, but she shifts to the side, throwing me off-balance, then puts her feet on my chest and mule kicks. I fall to the ground, crushing the hologram device as I roll away. The device crackles and fizzles, throwing hot electric sparks on the dry wheat field. That is not going to be good.

I’m about to stomp out the device when something crashes against my face, spinning me around. My left cheek is on fire, and when I run my hand across it, it comes back dark red. I glance down at the ground and see a spanner wrench flecked with my blood. I hear her feet pawing at the ground as she bounds toward me, and in one motion I bend to grab the spanner and swing up and out, catching her right in the jaw. I can hear the crack of bone splitting. She crouches down, her hand cupping her fractured jaw, exposing the back of her head.

I grip the spanner tight. She’s down. She’s defenseless. She’s practically begging for it. But echoing in my skull is the sound that poor girl in the water distribution plant made just before I shot her. That pitiful, completely vulnerable sound at knowing she was about to die, either by my gun or by the plant collapsing on her. That girl was part of the Tathadann and we were at war.

This woman, this is murder. They tried to murder us. I am not them.

I don’t even see her lash out. I only see the explosion of white dots as her foot connects with the side of my knee, buckling my leg. The pain is so bright I can taste it. I fall to the ground, bringing my injury beside me to protect it, then feel it light up again as I roll away when she tries to stomp my wounded knee. She raises her leg again, ready to fully tear the ligaments inside my knee and render me lame, but I scream and straighten my leg as hard as I can, my heel plowing straight into her kneecap. Even through my boots, I can feel it slip aside and I shudder as the bones crumple on impact. She falls backward, roaring like a wounded animal.

As she lands on the ground, I see the halo behind her head. Flames lick at the sky, nearly three feet tall.

Oh shit.

I push myself to my feet, favoring my good leg. The fire covers a good forty square yards, but it’s spreading like water. This whole field is dry grass, ready to burn, and within twenty minutes, it will be one giant lake of fire.

And that bitch is now immobile in the middle of it.

Goddammit.

I hobble over to her, doing my best to crouch down so I can get my hands under her armpits.

A finger of smoke brushes against my nose, the heat already warming my face. She swings at me but it’s half-hearted at best. She’s in too much pain and contorted at too-awkward an angle.

“Cut the shit or I’m leaving your ass here,” I tell her.

“I’m going to kill you when we get out of this,” she says, her voice hoarse.

“The same thought crossed my mind.”

I’m able to drag her five feet closer to the car when I hear someone yell my name.

I drop the woman and pivot on my good leg, only to see Brighid racing across the field, her truck parked at an odd angle, hanging half-off the street. What the hell is she doing here so early?

“They got here too?” she shouts.

“Who?”

“The rebels. Cantonae’s people.” She pulls up to me, breathing hard. “They bombed three sites in Eitan.”

“What? How do you know who it was?”

“They were coordinated. A pipe-bomb at a bar, three pulse charges to free the captured ones in the high rises, and they just set fire to a home.” She looks past me at the field, the fire spreading faster and faster. “The city’s burning again.”

Oh shit. It’s not the insurgents. It’s Lachlan.

Brighid looks down at the woman at my feet. Her face shifts, recognition setting in.

“The ponytail,” she says.

And before I can tell her no, we need to leave, before I can open my mouth and push out a single word, she reaches behind her, aims her pistol at the woman, and fires once. The woman’s head snaps back, a single red hole in the middle of her forehead as she flops backward. Blood leaks from her skull into the dirt beneath her, the flames making it bubble and sizzle within seconds.

The bottom of my stomach drops away. Another person killed because of me. She could have been saved. This is not how we’ll rebuild. This is not what Eitan deserves. This ends now.

Brighid yanks at my arm and I suddenly feel the heat of the flames anew.

“Let’s go,” she says. “Now.”

“Why did you come here?”

“What?” she says, half-turned and completely confused. “Seriously, let’s go now.”

“Why did you come here? To Eitan? To this field?”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

A small container left in the field explodes, throwing a shower of sparks into the air. I duck on instinct and feel the pain, electric blue and shimmering, spread through my knee.

“I came here to save you,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that I can’t isolate, almost like she’s wounded by me even asking.

“No, you didn’t.” I try to keep my voice level but it’s a wild animal, out of my control and rising quickly. “Don’t you dare say that. You have done nothing but lie to me since you got here.”

“Do you have smoke inhalation or something?”

I push her hard, and she stumbles back a few feet before steadying, her hands reflexively protecting herself.

“What the hell is your problem?” She points at the fire raging all around us. My eyes begin to water. “You want to die here? Fine. Stay and die. I came to make sure you were safe.”

“No, you didn’t,” I scream at her, swinging a hand wildly and catching her on the cheek. “All you’ve done is manipulate me to do what you want! This machine is going to use our souls like firewood.”

“Acceptable sacrifice, you stupid bitch.” She swings back but I’m expecting it. I duck beneath it, lash out with a rabbit punch to her ribs and connect once, twice, then she grabs my arm and wrenches it backward. “Daghda always thought he was so goddamned smart, but he never led Ardu Oéann to be anything more than an afterthought to other countries.”

She pulls up on my arm, sending a storm of electricity through my shoulders. It’s enough to almost make me puke.

“Under me, we will step outside of Ødven’s shadow and we will be bigger and more prosperous than ever before. We won’t be a country.” She puts her lips beside my ear, which lets me get my foot positioned between her legs. “We’ll be an example to every other country. And everyone will know the name Tobeigh.”

“You’re willing to sacrifice everyone just so people know your name,” I spit. “You are insane.”

“No, I’m not,” she said. “I’m ready.”

You bitch.

I swing my foot up as hard as I can, catching her right between the legs. I can actually hear the sound of breath leaving her, and I swing around as soon as she lets go of my hand and charge at her, my hands going for her throat. But even then, she somehow grabs my wrist and spins me around, pushing me toward the central dome. I scramble to break loose, but she’s cinched me into a hold. My heels leave ditches in the dirt beneath us. I try to flail my arms, do anything to get free of her hold. She just guides me forward, swearing in some language I don’t speak.

We’re five feet from the central dome, the metal heated enough from the surrounding fire that I can feel it radiate at this distance. She’s going to push me in and leave me. I’m going to die in the middle of this potter’s field.

And then it hits me.

I dig my heels in as hard as I can, pushing back on her with every ounce of strength in my body. She pushes forward just as hard, and because she’s stronger than me, she moves me. One foot. Two feet. Three.

We’re an arm’s length from the dome. If I reached out and touched it, my fingertips would probably sizzle.

But I don’t reach out. I drop to my knees.

The sudden change of balance throws her off, and she tumbles forward, skittering across the metal of the central dome. I scramble to my feet and grab the door, feeling my fingerprints melting smooth, then slam it closed and yank down the lever and lock it from the outside.

In the small porthole window in the door, I can see her spin around, her eyes wide with surprise before shifting to anger, then fear. She slams her hands on the door impotently, her mouth screaming terrible things, but I can’t hear anything other than the fire spreading, the land being razed.

She won’t burn alive in there – she’ll cook.

“You made me believe you,” I scream at her. “You made me believe you were my friend, but you don’t care about any of us. We’re just kindling to you.” I doubt she can hear anything I’m saying, but I can’t stop screaming that over and over at her, until I start coughing and choking on smoke.

Her palm slams against the window, fingers extended, like she’s trying to touch me. Tears roll down her cheeks, and I start to feel bad for her. I’m the monster for doing this.

Then I remember what the dome that will be her tomb is meant for, and I don’t feel so bad. I turn around and hobble toward my truck. The air is cooler as I move away from the fire, my skin prickling with sweat.

Still, under the crackling flames and rushing sound of wheat catching on, I swear I can hear her calling my name.