Catching Red (18 page)

“Since I’m about to die, I want to know—why do you hate her so much?”

It was as if something evil and dark slithered in the depths of her grandmother’s green eyes. The woman drew another line of blood over Scarlet’s skin. “Why does the answer matter?”

Scarlet hissed out a pained breath. The longer she remained here, the more time she gave her comrades to get in place, the better their chances of success. She could only hope she would live to see whether the plan came to fruition. “Your obsession shaped my life. I saw it. I sensed it. But I never understood it. What did she do to deserve everything you’ve done?”

For the first time in her life, Scarlet saw her grandmother’s lips curve into a genuine smile. “I’ve been quite successful, haven’t I? From the day you were born, Mary has watched you suffer. Now she’ll watch you die. It’s too bad it couldn’t be you and Angela both.” The maniacal expression on the doll-like face made the hairs on the back of Scarlet’s neck stand on end. It was a wonder so few saw the flaw in Eleanor’s psyche—the dark fire that had long since consumed their leader’s heart.

Her grandmother’s fist landed on Scarlet’s stomach and dug into her wound. For a few moments, Scarlet’s vision blurred from the pain. “Tell me why you did it. Tell me why you hate her this much.”

The old woman leaned in and whispered into her ear. “She is the product of my worst nightmare. Every time I see her face, every time I look into those eyes, I see him laughing back at me. The man who spawned her left me bloodied, broken, and begging for death. By the time I’m through with your mother, she’ll wish she was never born.”

Scarlet wanted to scream, but her voice was barely above a whisper. “She already does. She’s been doing that for as long as I can remember.”

Her grandmother straightened and patted Scarlet’s shoulder. “And she’ll continue to do so for as long as I breathe.”

“And how will you do that once you’ve killed me?” A younger and more innocent part of Scarlet still believed her grandmother didn’t want her dead. Her grown self knew Eleanor’s mercy had shriveled away decades ago.

The old woman pinched Scarlet’s cheek. “Clever girl. You’ve always been too clever for comfort. That’s why you’re my favorite.”

Scarlet’s chest tightened. The gesture brought back memories of years past. In her grandmother’s mind, the line between love and hate so often blurred. “Your daughter stopped being my mother when I was eight years old. I haven’t heard her say my name in fifteen years. You raised me. Do you really want me gone?”

Her grandmother’s laughter sounded like nails scraping over glass. “My life won’t be the same without you. But time is running out. You know it better than anyone here. I’ve spent my life creating this place, and I will die when it all crumbles and falls. Before then, your mother will watch you torn to pieces.”

Their gazes locked. Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder at the memory that had tainted what could have been her family. “What did that man do to you all those years ago?”

Eleanor’s frail shoulders lifted and fell. “He did enough to make me taste bile whenever I see his eyes on your mother’s face. He did enough to make me want to slice off her flesh piece by piece until all trace of him is gone.”

“That’s why you’ve always hated Angie more.” The tears Scarlet had held back until now finally fell. “I have your eyes. I have your hair. I have your face. She looks just like Mother.”

One corner of Eleanor’s mouth quirked up and down in an erratic tic. “You have no idea how tempted I was to shove ash down that child’s throat the day she was born. I couldn’t resist the temptation with all the ones who came after. You were the only grandchild I could love.”

Scarlet felt the cold clutches of despair surround her heart. “You see what you want to see—memories of a monster layered over the people who care for you. By making our lives a living hell, you’ve let him win over and over again.”

* * * *

“You’d better not pull that trigger.” Dane’s command threatened to make Marcus’ blood boil.

“This has gone on long enough,” Marcus hissed. “She’s injured, and they just shoved five more undead through those gates.” The Circle was a dirt arena surrounded by a chain-link fence. There were two gates—Red had stumbled in from one end, and undead funneled through the other. The cult’s leader sat on an elevated platform not far from the main gate. A woman wearing a straitjacket crouched on the floor behind her. Several hundred onlookers gathered around the spectacle. Not one made a move to stop it.

“She’ll be fine.” Dane’s voice held a hint of sympathy. “She’s moving slowly to buy her people time. I can see them getting into position behind the clusters of children. Everything is happening according to the plan she described.”

Marcus’ gaze didn’t leave Red’s moving form. “I’ve seen her fight. I can tell she has a stomach wound. They must have patched her up so the blood wouldn’t show. She’s getting less precise by the minute, and she’s letting those brain-eaters get too close to her.”

“The team isn’t in position. If you act now, it’ll trigger chaos. Children will die.” Dane placed his hand on Marcus’ shoulder and squeezed. “She’s hanging in there. I swear we’ll get her back to the city in one piece.”

“Keeping her safe is my priority,” Marcus warned in a low menacing voice. “The moment she’s in danger, I’ll fire. Here’s some unsolicited advice—factor me into the equation or watch your plans go to hell.”

* * * *

Scarlet weaved to the right and swung her blade in an arc, severing an undead’s head. It was becoming impossible to focus. Her vision was blurred by sweat and blood. Her heart was beating so fast she felt like retching. Her arms and legs felt heavy. The time lag between her thoughts and actions was becoming untenable.

What was taking Belle so long?

The execution had started with a single undead. Scarlet had drawn out the kill for as long as she could, knowing it would gain her nothing. The release of brain-eaters into the Circle occurred at timed intervals—unless she did something stupid like killing one ahead of schedule.

It had been a surprising relief when dual knives were shoved into her hands at the gate. She had recognized the brown-eyed girl who had cut her loose. Ella was one of the caregivers who had trained alongside Angie. The girl had a good heart and more courage than Scarlet imagined possible. Without her, they wouldn’t have known where the children would be positioned once the Circle was called.

If her gamble weren’t so close to playing out, Scarlet would be more worried about Ella’s safety. There was no doubt in her mind Eleanor had seen what transpired. If her grandmother managed to hold on to power after this attack, Ella would pay for this kindness with her life.

Scarlet heard the metallic clanging that signaled the gate’s opening. She shook her head in an attempt to clear the fog. Eight undead added to the three already inside. She was running behind, and it wasn’t on purpose. The blood seeping from her wound was draining away her strength. Each movement brought her a step closer to collapse.

She stumbled and fell. Gunfire startled her as she struggled to rise to her knees. She whipped her head around to face the main gate. All eyes were on the elevated platform that housed her grandmother.

A gravelly voice cut through the silence—it was familiar yet unrecognizable. “If they lay a hand on my daughter, your leader dies.”

Scarlet’s eyes grew wide. She could hardly believe what she saw. Eleanor had been taken captive, but not by Belle or anyone in the rebellion. Mary had not only freed herself from the straitjacket but had somehow acquired a shiv. With a weapon pressed against their leader’s throat, her grandmother’s personal guards were frozen in place.

Belle held a pistol in each hand. Scarlet heard ten more shots. She didn’t need to turn around to know the bullets were buried in each undead’s head. Belle’s skill with the weapon was unparalleled. It was why she had been chosen to protect Eleanor.

Scarlet released a shaky breath. The situation was on a razor’s edge, and the shock would soon wear off. Without hesitation, she ran to the gate. Ella was already cutting away the padlock.

They raced up the steps to the platform together. The other guards had drawn their weapons. Their firearms were pointed in Belle’s direction. These were the WITCH’s elite soldiers, and one of their own had been too quick to break protocol. Belle had been identified as the greatest danger, not the deranged woman holding a makeshift blade to Eleanor’s throat.

As Scarlet reached Belle’s side, she marveled at the surrounding silence. The rebels had carried out their objectives to varied degrees of success. She turned to see sentries slumped at their posts and caregivers unconscious on the ground. But some of the soldiers had managed to get away. Their weapons were pointed at the few dozen women who had formed a circle around the crowd. Despite the tension, no one said a word. The nonaligned members hadn’t chosen a side.

Scarlet needed to trust her friends to handle themselves. The main threat had always been the cadre of fighters charged with protecting her grandmother. Belle might be one of the best marksmen the WITCH had ever seen, but even she couldn’t face off a score of the fighting elite.

Mary broke the silence. “Move and she dies.” Her gaze was alert and directed at the guards. “I’ve dreamed of killing my mother for decades. I’m the one you need to worry about.”

Scarlet’s fingers closed around the pistol Belle shoved into her hand. With her and Ella there, the odds still weren’t in Belle’s favor. But three was better than one.

Leveling her gaze at her grandmother’s personal guards, Scarlet asked, “Why are you protecting her?”

A few of them spared her a glance. It gave her the motivation to continue. “You’re by her side every day. You’ve witnessed her cruelty. You’ve seen her madness. Now that the Prophet is dead, all she wants to do is follow Mother Gothel to the grave and take us all with her. You know what I’m saying is true.”

A few stances shifted. She heard indrawn breaths. They were too well trained for her to expect a stronger reaction. Inching toward her grandmother, Scarlet forged on. “She was a great leader once. The Prophet was a great leader once. But what was left of her judgment is long gone. She’s cruel without reason. She kills without reason. By following her, you are guilty of the same insanity.”

Eleanor was the one who spoke. “What you call madness, I call loyalty.” Her grandmother leveled an assessing gaze at those trained to protect her. Scarlet’s heart sank. Many of these women had been by their leader’s side for decades. A few words weren’t likely to change their minds.

With a smug smile, Eleanor ordered, “Point those weapons at the traitors. If my idiot daughter had the guts to kill me, she wouldn’t have waited this long.”

The guards obeyed their leader. When Scarlet’s gaze darted to her mother’s paling face, she knew Eleanor’s prediction was on the mark. Some bonds were impossible to break. Mary wasn’t going to carry out her threat.

This rebellion would end in a bloodbath.

Without warning, loud cracks of sound echoed around them. Grenades hit the platform, expelling clouds of white smoke. Flashes of light blinded Scarlet a moment before she fell to her knees. Soon after she inhaled the sweet-smelling gas, the world descended into a gray fog.

Scarlet’s head felt heavy. The air smelled odd—clean and acrid at the same time. Something thin, smooth, and cold rested over her skin. Dull pain emanated from the crook of her left elbow. A steady chime pulsed in her ears, creating a pressure akin to a sharp object being held in front of her eyes.

She caught a whiff of a flowery scent. Sensuous and alluring, it signaled another’s passage toward her. Survival instincts kicked in. She fought to lift her eyelids only to find her vision blurred and blotched by patches of light and dark. She widened her eyes; she squinted. Neither act allowed her to focus on the black-garbed visitor within arm’s reach. The person’s features blended into undefined shapes. All she could make out was golden hair, pasty skin, and pale blue eyes.

A spark of relief flared. For a moment she thought it could be Marcus. But a female voice shattered her hopes.

“How do you feel, Ms. Ryding?”

She frowned. Her grandmother’s last name was Ryding. Scarlet had never answered to it. “Who—”

“Who I am isn’t important.” No emotion underlay those words. “I’m the one who will be asking questions. Let me repeat—how do you feel?”

Scarlet tried to wiggle her fingers but couldn’t. The experience reminded her of the night Marcus saved her life. “I can’t move.”

The foggy shape shifted downward. Scarlet guessed the woman had just sat. “The doctors injected you with concentrated doses of URV. Paralysis is a temporary side effect. It will pass.”

Something about the statement sounded wrong. Scarlet tried to lift her arm. All she managed to do was cause beads of sweat to gather on her forehead. Aside from her face, her body was frozen. “Why would they—”

“As I said, Ms. Ryding. I need you to answer questions, not ask them. Now, I want to discuss Agent Woodsman.”

She was about to say she had no idea who this Woodsman person was. But then she remembered Marcus’ last name. “Where is he?”

“You are failing to grasp the concept of an interrogation.” A hint of amusement laced the feminine voice. But her visitor’s next words refuted the observation. “Let me make your situation clear. It is within my power to have you locked away forever. I can make sure neither your mother nor your friends ever see the light of day again. Please confirm you understand.”

Terror knotted Scarlet’s stomach. After all she’d been through, her ordeal wasn’t over. “Yes.” When the silence stretched, she added, “I understand.”

“Good. When did you meet Agent Woodsman?”

Her answer couldn’t harm him. “Less than two months ago.”

“I see. What is the nature of your relationship?”

Scarlet frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.” Her deflection was also the truth.

“I will rephrase.” Her interrogator paused. “Help me understand the agent’s actions. He broke protocol. He didn’t send you back to the city for questioning. He allowed you to dictate the WOLF’s method of infiltration. He switched out live ammunition for tranquilization darts. During the operation, he assaulted another agent in order to acquire smoke grenades. He then entered the fray before his team was in position. There were no casualties, but he took multiple unnecessary risks. Do you have an explanation for his erratic behavior?”