He’s barely able to stand. Pale skin sunburned and blistered, covered in fresh cuts and bruises. They’ve stripped off his clothes and replaced them with a loincloth. Hacked all his hair off, too. He doesn’t flinch when a sandal flies from the crowd and smacks him in the head. Doesn’t so much as blink when the guy with the gun nudges him closer to the pit.
“Hickory!”
Yaku knows what I’m thinking. He tries to stop me from running off, but Violet grabs his wrist with one hand, jabs him twice with the other, rounds on the two guards and shouts, “Go, Jane—I’ve got this!”
And I’m off, leaping down from the landing, ducking and weaving through the crowd.
It’s bananas. Everyone’s clapping, stomping, trying to get a good view of the pit. I catch glimpses of Elsa through the flailing arms and jostling bodies. I can’t understand what she’s shouting, but I catch “Roth” in there a few times. She keeps pointing at Hickory, too.
“Elsa,” I shout, “stop!” But she can’t hear me, can’t see me.
“Roth, ku-nah!” she yells, and the crowd roars.
I squeeze between two big guys, fighting my way closer to the pit. Catch a glimpse of Hickory just standing there, swaying slightly on his feet.
Why isn’t he fighting back?
“Hickory!” I shout again.
I force my way through the crowd, trip over and land on my hands and knees at the edge of the pit. It’s at least ten feet deep, as wide as the Hollows’ basement, and scattered with bones: a leg, an arm, and several broken, not-quite-human skulls. And there, crouched in the far corner—
“Oh, crap.”
A Leatherhead—a Gorani—but one I’ve never seen the likes of before. It has no suit, no gas mask, no gun. It’s dressed in a loincloth, same as Hickory’s, and its black-beady eyes are sunken and wild, its waxen skin covered in burns and scars. This is no foot soldier. This is a pitiful, desperate creature, which makes it all the more dangerous.
I get up, take a deep breath and shout, “STOP!”
It works. Elsa holds up her hands. Everyone falls silent. The people around me take a step back.
“Let him go,” I say. “Right now. You can’t do this.”
Elsa forces a smile. She’s trying to remain calm, in control, but I can tell she’s angry. Or is she scared?
“Please,” I say. “You know this is wrong.”
Hickory looks even worse close up. His bottom lip’s swollen, bleeding at the corner. He’s taking shallow breaths, like maybe he has a broken rib or two. Worst of all, he doesn’t seem to know who I am. He’s looking at me, through me, like I’m just another person in the crowd.
The Gorani’s even more terrified now that everyone’s gone quiet; little eyes darting around, three-fingered hands clinging to the rock wall at its back.
“Jane Doe.” Elsa holds her arms out wide. “In honor of your arrival, we present you with this gift.” She gestures at the pit like it’s the grandest birthday cake in all the worlds.
Yaku pushes his way to the edge of the pit with Violet struggling in his arms, a hand clasped over her mouth.
“Not just a confirmation of faith,” Elsa continues, “but a demonstration of our commitment to end Roth’s reign of terror, and bring all who serve him to justice!”
Yaku translates for everyone. The crowd goes wild.
Violet’s clearly rattled but nods at me all the same. I’m okay. You’ve got this.
I take a few steps around the edge of the pit, closer to Hickory. Yaku yells something at the people near me. Two guys try to grab me, but I slap their hands away and glare at them.
Elsa gives me a subtle headshake. A warning.
Don’t do anything stupid? Clearly, she doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.
“First,” I shout, and wait a second for the crowd to settle, “you folks really suck at gift-giving. Second, I already told you: Hickory doesn’t serve Roth anymore.”
“I’m sure that’s what he wants you to think,” Elsa says.
“He saved our lives!” How do I explain this? “He used to be a bounty hunter, but he’s on our side now. Tell her, Hickory.” He stares down at the pit, doesn’t say a thing. “Hickory, tell them you don’t work for Roth!”
He closes his eyes, hangs his head.
This isn’t the Hickory I know. The guy who faced Roth atop a speeding train and used a whip to snag him on a passing chandelier. The guy who stabbed a river creature in the back seconds before it was about to eat us alive. The guy who always has a plan.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask him. “After everything we’ve been through, you can’t just—”
Elsa nods at the guy with the gun. He nudges Hickory till his toes are poking over the edge of the pit.
The crowd stirs again, jostling for better views.
“Wait! Elsa, don’t. You know we need him. You kill Hickory, you kill our best chance of stopping Roth and getting Dad—John—Charlie—whatever you want to call him—back.” It’s risky, bringing him into this, but I have to get through to her somehow. I think it works, too. I can see her eyes narrow from all the way over here. “Look,” I say, light and breezy, “we got off on the wrong foot here. How about we all calm down, back away from the creepy death pit and talk, huh?”
The crowd’s growing impatient. Whispering. Fidgeting. Elsa steels herself. “You’re wasting your time, Jane. Even if he has renounced Roth, the laws of our land dictate that he must be punished. We captured this Gorani months ago, fleeing Roth’s army.” She nods at the creature in the pit. “A deserter, true, but guilty of unimaginable atrocities nonetheless. Hickory is no different.”
“He was caught by Roth inside the Manor. Roth forced him to—”
“Kill innocent people? Lead them to their doom?’
“Yes! Wait, no. I mean—”
“Listen to me, Jane.” Elsa glares at me again. “He has a chance. He has a choice.”
“Fight or die? Some choice! And I hate Leathereads—I mean, Gorani—as much as the next girl, but if this one fled Roth’s army then it isn’t really a threat anymore, is it? Just let it go!”
“I have to uphold the law,” Elsa says, teeth gritted, fists clenched.
“Screw the law,” I shout, and point at Hickory. “He. Can’t. Fight.”
“Kaida nu,” someone shouts. Elsa holds her head high, tries to ignore them, but everyone’s joining in now, shouting louder and louder. “Kaida nu. Kaida nu. Kaida nu!”
“What are they saying?” I ask.
She calls for silence. The crowd obeys. “They’re saying . . . death.”
The guy with the gun shoves Hickory. He topples into the pit. I shout, “No!” but I’m drowned out by the crowd as they clamor and haggle around the pit, waving copper coins in the air. I can’t believe it.
They’re actually placing bets.
Hickory’s gasping on the pit floor, clawing at the dirt, winded from the fall. The Gorani tries to scramble up the wall, rattling its throat and screeching as it slips back down. Obviously, it doesn’t want to fight either, but it could turn on Hickory any second.
“Hickory,” I shout, “get up! Arm yourself.” He gets to his knees, looks at the bones scattered around him. “Yes,” I shout, “grab a big one! A leg bone or—what are you doing?”
The chump just sat back down.
Violet kicks and squirms in Yaku’s arms. Shakes his hand away from her mouth and shouts, “If Hickory dies, John dies,” but I can barely hear her over the roar of the crowd. Elsa doesn’t move, doesn’t blink. I can tell she’s torn, though, and that’s all that matters.
Problem is, a guy near Violet and Yaku can see it, too. A weedy white man with a long blade strapped to his waist. A blade he’s unsheathing.
“No, no, no,” I say.
The Gorani’s pacing up and down the far wall of the pit now, growing more panicked by the second, and Hickory’s just sitting there, doing nothing.
The weedy man’s getting ready to toss the blade.
“Elsa,” I shout. “Stop him—that guy there!”
But it’s too late. The blade flies through the air and falls down, down, down, landing right between Hickory and the Gorani in the center of the pit. The crowd roars. The Gorani glances from the blade to Hickory and back again, calculating the distance, assessing the risks, crouching low, getting ready to pounce. Hickory stares at the blade, too, but doesn’t move a muscle. And that’s when I really get scared. When it really sinks in. He isn’t even gonna try for it.
Hickory Dawes wants to die.