1503951200 (26 page)

I drop into the armchair, shoving my balled-up fists into my eyes. The door doesn’t make a sound as Pi leaves. I have lost the last remnant of my blood family. I can hardly breathe.

It takes a few hours, but eventually, I drain myself of tears. Though this morning has been painful, nothing has fundamentally changed. I will get myself together, and follow the rest of the plan: I’ve got one shot to convince Nelle to do things my way, or take out the Bishop before she singlehandedly destroys New Charity.

I head upstairs to get a bag together. I don’t have time to mess with refueling the generator, so I take a cold shower and put on clean clothes. I pack a few extra shirts, the leftover cigarettes, and head downstairs to grab some tuna and a couple of bottles of wine. The pack is heavy. Too heavy. But I don’t have far to go, a short hike over the ridge to the bramble house. I’m about ready to head out to the barn when I see a box on the kitchen counter. I had somehow missed it when I was talking to Pi. It’s white and square and says “Cressyda” in large black letters.

I lift the lid and, inside, a card is lying atop my dad’s revolver. I open it:

S,

Your father left this among his things, but I think the day has come for it to be in the hands of a Turner once more. Should the time be right, remember to only point this when you intend to kill. Find the truth. Aim straight.

—J

It takes me longer than it should to parse the signature. Sheriff Jayne? Watching out for me the whole time? Did she know? Did she suspect the Bishop, too? Or was she so consumed by grief and blinded by Pi’s bias that she hadn’t thought things through until last night?

None of the details matter now that I know the Sheriff is on my side. Events have been set in motion. We have propelled ourselves forward toward the truth. For a better New Charity. For a better City. For a better us.

I stash the gun in a mesh pocket on the outside of my pack and thread my arms through the straps. Taking one last look at the living room, I pull the front door closed behind me. Still facing inside, I don’t notice anything amiss until I hear Troy’s voice. He’s saying
no
over and over.

I turn to find my face full of guns. The Governor, a few goons, and a few junior Sheriff’s deputies. And Troy. He looks at me and the gun on the side of the bulging backpack. He squeezes his eyes shut.

His face is all anguish, his voice barely a whisper. “Syd, you promised.”

“I know how this looks. But you have to believe me.”

“I told you, son,” the Governor says, turning to Troy. “She’s a liar like all the rest of them. She left New Charity once. Now we’ll give her some assistance on her way out.”

“No.” I scramble for the door handle to get back inside. “I’m not leaving. I can’t.”

“On the contrary.” The Governor nods at Troy, who closes his eyes and tries to steady his hands.

Somewhere in the bristle of barrels, the safety on a pistol goes
click
.

CHAPTER TEN

Cas

The morning after the goodwill dinner dawned bright and clear. I was in the kitchen of the Acolyte apartment, sweeping away shards of glass lodged underneath the cabinets. Worried the Bishop might show up again, I took some solace in the sounds of the women downstairs, prepping for the weekend services, baking cookies, and chopping vegetables for soup.

More than anything, though, I was sick that Syd—my oldest friend save Len—didn’t believe me, couldn’t. What else had I missed by blindly following the Bishop and the Sanctuary? The Bishop’s plan to make over the world was mad, and he had to be stopped. But I needed proof that he’d started his culling with Cal. If Syd couldn’t hear me, the people of New Charity wouldn’t either. His curse had already eroded my credibility, and I had to show rather than tell.

I heard Len taking the stairs by leaps and bounds before I saw the door fly open. He bent over to catch his breath, panting. As green around the gills as he looked, I debated admitting I’d finished his hidden flask in order to sleep. I poured him a glass of water.

“No time. We have to go,” he managed between gasps. “It’s Syd.”

“She’s not going to listen to me, Len.”

“No, it’s the Governor. He’s giving her to the Survivors.”

“Are you still drunk or something? What do you mean? Who told you this?”

“I got locked up for disturbing the peace last night. Not Jayne. One of her lackeys. While Troy was bailing me out, I heard him saying he was going to do a job for the Governor this morning. I followed them to the house, but when I saw . . . I got here as fast as I could.”

I shoved the water toward him. “Maybe it’s for the best. At least for now.”

He looked at me askance. “What?”

“Just while we figure out what to do next, is all.”

“Dammit, Cas, you’re not hearing me. Syd’s not getting kicked out, she’s—”

“That’s right,” the Governor said, strolling in the open door with Troy, ashen and morose, close on his heels. “She is our insurance, so to speak.”

Len came around the counter to stand next to me, his hatred for our father raw and undisguised. I must have still looked confused because Len clarified. “She’s going to be their prisoner.”

“Oh, you make it sound so nefarious, Len,” the Governor drawled. “The Survivors want assurances that Nelle won’t be harmed. So we’re giving them the Deacon’s niece as a trade. As soon as Nelle turns the power back on for New Charity, we’ll exchange her for Syd, though, as I’ve explained over and over to Troy, I doubt she’ll have any desire to stay.”

My insides heaved, and I probably turned as green as Len. “You can’t know that.”

“Oh, but I do,” the Governor said. “You think I don’t know she was behind the stunt with the power plant? Or the party? Spreading dissention? Putting your lives in danger?”

“She misunderstood when she first came, but it’s different now—”

The Governor cut me off again. “You’re all coming with me to watch her leave. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll say your good-byes to her for once and for all. When and if she returns, she’ll no longer be welcome in our home, in our lives.”

“You can trade anyone at all,” Len said. “Why Syd?”

“You saw at the gate. She’s neither us nor them. They see her as the worst kind of traitor. Someone who could’ve helped them and didn’t.”

I couldn’t keep myself from inhaling sharply. Of course he’d give them someone they’d want to hurt, someone they’d want access to. I’d been wrong yet again. It wasn’t safer out there for her; in fact, it was probably more dangerous than ever.

“Please. Reconsider. Send me,” I begged. “You can’t just throw her to the wolves.”

“This again,” the Governor said. “The lady doth protest too much.”

Troy had been completely silent, and I shook his arm. “Don’t you have anything to say?”

The Governor waved dismissively. “I’ve already explained to Troy how the girl was using him. Just like she did when they were younger. An older boy, a date to the big dance, another stepping-stone on Syd Turner’s ladder toward a better life. See how far that got her?”

“How can you think so little of love? Of your own son?”

“The world is cruel, Casandra. It’s the same thing Nelle is doing to Perry. She thinks we aren’t on to her, but Perry doesn’t have the guts to kidnap a woman like that. We’ll let her get close enough to think she has us, let her turn on the power and try her hand at the Ward. And then we’ll make an example out of her.”

“You know better,” I said, putting my hand on Troy’s shoulder. “Stand up to him.”

Troy looked down at his boots.

“You’ve known Syd forever. Maybe she made some mistakes when she first got here but she’s not what he says. Do the scraps of his approval really mean that much to you?”

He glanced up at me, features set and angry, and remained silent.

“Enough of this,” said the Governor. “They should be escorting her to the gate by now.”

Everything began to move too fast.

Syd, and me, and my brothers, we’d come so far together—to a place where we all wanted the same things—or so I’d thought. Setting aside our hurts, we could’ve made those things a reality, lead the way into futures we wanted. For us. For our homes. For each other.

It should have been a time to reach out for one another, to find a hand to grab. Instead we groped empty air.

The scene at the gate was heartrending.

Syd seemed uncharacteristically tiny surrounded by the Governor’s men. She didn’t look like the woman who could take on the world; she looked alone and defeated, flinching at the bright horizon.

Mama—unwilling to acknowledge Len or me—stood with a group of gossiping New Charitans, even unlikely allies like Becky Purcell’s mother. Becky herself, though, stood with a group on our side, joining Pious in a rousing chorus demanding the Governor reconsider. Demanding he let Syd go.

The Governor stepped forward, sparing a look back at us. “See what you’ve done? We have never been a town divided.”

Len let out a dry laugh. “Not since the last time anyway.”

A few feet from the gate, the circle of deputies and guards parted and we saw Syd’s handcuffs for the first time. The Deacon ran to her and they stood in tears, both apologizing for something without so many words, both visibly terrified. Syd pulled away first, taking a deep breath and assuring the Deacon that she was okay. That she would find a way to make things right. Becky stepped closer and told Syd to keep her chin up, a sentiment repeated by the rest of those gathered in her favor.

Mama’s side said nothing.

The Governor nodded to us. Len went first. He, too, apologized to Syd and she again assured him everything would be okay, even though her face was as unconvincing. When it was my turn, I held her as long and as hard as I could. She was crying, her tears wet on the side of my face.

“I believe you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. Don’t be.” I hugged her closer.

“Cedar took my dad’s gun. If there’s any way, can you get it back to Jayne? I know it doesn’t make any sense, I just don’t want him to have it.”

“Of course,” I say.

She backed up a step, still speaking low. “Whatever happens, don’t let Nelle near the reservoir.”

I nodded. My father had been right about one thing: Nelle was planning to open the floodgates, destroy the Ward, and had been the whole time.

Syd looked up at Troy expectantly, hopeful, even, despite it all. He refused to meet her eye. Didn’t even budge from his place just behind my father. Their mouths had the same ugly set, and for the first time in my life I hated them both equally. Syd’s face drained of color, and though she tried to hold her face still, her eyes glazed over in pain and, worse, deep shame.

Since she’d returned, I’d been so concerned about what Syd would do to Troy, when I should have been worried about the opposite. I had always assumed she had life all figured out, though she was as vulnerable as—if not more than—the rest of us, with just enough confidence to land her in real danger.

Len stared at Troy, disgusted. I sank to my knees. How had everything gone so spectacularly wrong?

I wasn’t the only one about to lose it, though. The Survivor escorts arrived, and the gate began to open. The Governor’s posse shoved Syd back into formation, and, just as they started to pass her off to the men outside, Deacon Pi took a run at the men on the other side of the gate. One of the Survivors made a move to stop him, and he and the Deacon fell to the hard ground in a heap. There was a snap of bone and both men cried out. The Governor barked an order at the guards, and one of them brandished a club.

The Deacon never saw the hit coming, but when Syd turned to see him fall unconscious, the dignity she’d tried so hard to protect evaporated. She was hysterical, thrashing and screaming. Begging them to let her go. Even when the gate closed and Survivors crested the rise, we could still hear her terrified, grieving sobs echoing like a bloodred warning song floating through the still, blue sky.

My mother’s group made their way to the social hall, heads bent in gossip. The rest of us stood there, while my father watched the empty horizon, smug and self-satisfied. Eventually Becky and her group broke apart, shaking their heads, and it was just us: Len, Troy, and me. And the Governor.