UNBREATHABLE (33 page)

I shout out and jab the dagger blindly. Sweat stings my eyes.

I open my mouth as his knife comes sailing down.

But his grip loosens around my ankle and his body goes limp. I’m confused until I meet Julian’s eyes from across the fray, a bow still stretched in his hands.

“Freeze.” Rowan's voice penetrates the chaos. It travels on the same frequency as Julian's and the silence is instant. My eyes find him through the mass of Jute and man. He’s far enough that I can't read his expression, but his face is angled toward me. He can see me.

He holds something in his hands. A dark box.

“Surrender and you'll live. Or every one of you humans will die.” He raises the box. “Such a pathetic way to end your lives. And so, very, easy.”

The oxygen control. Relief floods through me.

“You heard him!” Someone yells. A man. A human man, with a mask plastered on his fair skin. “Keep fighting. One box can't harm us!”

The moment the words leave his lips, an arrow sinks into his back. He falls to the wretched ground with a muted thud, blood pooling around the arrow. Only cowards murder from behind, Gage had said.

But something happens.

Whether it was his words or his death that sparks it, I‘m not sure, but every human and Jute attacks. So many of Rowan's men fall in that unguarded instant. Men, women, and even children, attack in a flurry of movement.

Rowan flicks the switch.

There's a moment of stillness when the suctions release their holds and Jutaire air seeps into every mask.

I lock eyes with Rowan through melee. Surprise flickers across his face when no one falls. I feel a flash of boldness and my lips curve into a sly smile. For once, Rowan isn’t hurt or in pain or madly in love.

He’s furious.

His anger is an odd source of contentment and encouragement that slowly trickles into me. When I blink again, he’s gone. Disappeared. Into the battle of bodies and swirling dust.

I run my blade across an oncoming Jute. The bleeding in my shoulder has stopped, though it still throbs. I wipe my blade across my pants and move on. I slay another Jute. His eyes are imprinted in my mind—wide in horror and pain. Did he only join Rowan’s army so he could get to Earth and live a better life? I push away the thoughts.

Less thinking, more doing.

And that’s when I see it.

A red light flashing above the ship’s entrance.

Then I hear it.

A robotic female voice. “Security breached. Safety mechanism engaged. Preparing for initiation.”

The ship’s entrance is closing.

Time is a quiet evil. And right now, its silent ticking is louder than ever.

As one, our goals shift. Triumphing over Rowan and his men will do nothing if the ship seals shut. Even now, I can tell not all of us will make it.

But I
will
reach the ship. No matter what the cost. My blood roars in my ears when I realize that nothing will stop me.

I don’t detour to attack Rowan’s men anymore. When one comes after me, something feral takes over me, and in heartbeats he’s an unbreathing body.

I see people clambering on board. And Julian swinging a blade mercilessly amongst a group of Jute. My heart jumps when one of them lands a blow on his face. He stumbles back, stunned, and another Jute kicks him to the ground.

No
. My heart twists in my chest. I run toward him.

Wind whistles past my dagger as I raise it over my shoulder. I slash it across one Jute’s back, and another turns to me, leaving four to Julian.

Our blades connect with a grounding clang that trembles all the way to my toes. I don't look at his face to see his handsome features, though I know they are there.

I shove him away, kicking him between the legs at the same time. He grunts and loosens his hold. I knock the sword from his hand as a small knife embeds into his chest. I don't have a chance to see who helped me.

Another Jute swings a metal rod toward me, bits of rust flying in the relentless wind whipping around us.

He, too, falls with a knife to his chest.

I turn in the direction of my rescuer. Slate and Chancellor Abel limp toward the ship, shielding Eli between them. There’s another knife ready in Slate’s hand. Around them, battles rage, arrows fly, swords clash.

I duck and run to them. Slate assesses the damage on my arm before he looks at my face. “Eli's the only one who knows how to set the ship in motion. Can you get him there?”

Eli sways on his feet. Wrinkles line his face and I wonder if they are new, or if I simply never noticed them before. I take Slate's place, draping Eli’s arm over my shoulder, the weight suffocating me even more.

“Where will you go?” I ask. But he's already gone.

Eli wheezes. We move dangerously slow.

“I'm Abel,” Abel says to me. Has he forgotten that we already met? Dena would have rolled her eyes.

“Lissa,” I reply. Sweat trickles down my skin. There’s a patch of blood on the side of Eli’s torso.

He leans closer to me and whispers something in a hoarse voice.

“I know all about you,” Abel says with a wheezing laugh. Will he shut up?

“We’ve met, Chancellor,” I say, respectfully. Eli says something again.

“What is it?” I ask him as we near the ship. Julian slides through a group of Jute and reaches to help Eli. Blood trickles from a gash on his neck.

“He lied,” Eli whispers, fixing his eyes on me.

“Who lied?” I ask. I don't care if Abel lied, I don't say. A gasp of air chokes from my right. Abel's grip loosens around Eli’s arm and he collapses to the ground, an arrow in his side.

Julian begins pulling Eli up the stairs to the ship. I don't have the mind to marvel at the ship now that I am inches away. I can’t even grasp the fact that the man I just spoke to is a corpse beside me.

Eli pulls free from Julian and looks down at me, and for a moment, everything is still.

“Slate lied. He can fly this thing better than I can. Gage designed it. He taught Slate how to man it.”

I blink. Once. Twice. I ignore Julian's pleas and run.

My father is a machine.

His glistening red dagger never stops moving. And not a single Jute who crosses his path stands a chance. The way he fights is almost beautiful.

Pain pierces my leg. I turn as a leering Jute man swings a small knife in his hands, readying for another strike. I throw a quick and smash the end of my dagger against his skull and he crumples to the ground. I grab his knife and meet Slate's eyes. Panic freezes his features for a moment, before he shouts.

“Lissa!”

The shaft of an arrow is embedded in his leg.

I throw three knives, one after the other. They find homes in fatal places. And while only three Jute fall, the rest turn their attention away from Slate dropping to his knees in pain. I pull longer knives into either hand and twist them in my hands as they approach.

A rush of adrenaline makes me run. I hold the knives on either side and rush past the oncoming Jute, my blades slicing cleanly through them, ending their lives.

When I'm a foot from Slate, I turn back. Seven Jute have fallen. Three remain. From the ship, Julian calls my name, his voice frantic. I catch a flicker of bright white hair as Dena helps people on board.

Men and women frantically surge toward the ship. The door is closing.

A small dart sails straight for my neck. I swerve at the last moment as another Jute throws a fist at my stomach.

Sudden. Pain. Explodes. My senses.

I gasp for air and double over.

“Lissa, the ship,” Slate rasps. Panic distorts my vision. Three Jute. The ship. Slate. My pain. Too much. No time.

The Jute sense my weakness. One of them throws a kick at my right, the side I favor. I fall in the opposite direction, my knives dropping soundlessly to the ground. I turn on to my back. Air swooshes through my nose and dust chokes my throat.

“Lissa,” Slate shouts, his voice strained. I feel his hand on my ankle. His touch gives me hope. Gives me a reason. But my limbs are laden with lead.

The shadow of a leering Jute falls over me, blocking my view of the reddish clouds. Menace distorts his face. And I think, I think I could let him do as he wishes. I would.

If I didn't hear my name. Thrice.

Slate.

Julian.

And somewhere, Rowan, his voice faint.

My body is fluid in that moment. In a flash, I wrap my legs around the Jute and pull him down. My hand finds the hilt of my knife and without a thought, I plunge it deep into his chest. His body convulses, blood spews from his wound.

I don't waste time. I aim and throw. The knife skims the stomach of one of the two remaining Jute. I pick up the other knife and jump to my feet, the ground swaying beneath me. The dark-haired one lunges for me as the other launches another dart. I duck from both and slash my knife across the dark-haired one's stomach. The remaining one looks at me, eyes wide, mouth slack. He turns and runs toward the ship, dropping his darts as he goes.

The knife slips from my hand. The ground rushes to my face and I hear, more than feel, the impact of my numb body on the ground. Slate pulls himself to me, his eyes frantic. Blood has pooled around him. Sobs rack my body.

“Shh, Lissa, shh,” he says softly, as if I’m a child. The child he never got to raise. “You saved me.”

“No,
you
saved
me
,” I say, my voice hoarse.

His eyes fill with tears. I slowly push myself to my feet, my knees threatening to give way.

The ship isn’t too far. I can limp. Crawl even. I can limp with my father. 

I can't even move.

Slate gasps then. The sound shatters my heart. I fall to my knees.

No.

No.

“No,” I whisper, running my hands across his chest. My hand snatches on something sharp in the hollow beneath his shoulder. An arrow. From behind.

“No, no” I whisper. Not when I finally have a chance to live with him, my father. He doesn’t deserve this.
I
don’t deserve this.

He cups my cheek and a trembling smile curves across his face. I don’t know if the tears on his face are his or mine. Or both of ours.

“Thank you, Lissa, for giving me a chance,” he says in a whisper.

“No,” I scream. I grip his shoulders and shake. His eyes flutter. “You’re not leaving me. You’re my father.”

My voice softens. “Live. Please.”

He shudders.

The last I see are Julian's eyes before I collapse in his arms.

The last I hear is the ship's voice counting down from ten before the rushing in my ears drowns out all else.

Lips press against my temple, soft and trembling. I open my eyes, expecting to see my father's pale gray eyes staring back.

But they’re blue and drowning in pain.

I leap to my feet and the ground sways. Clean bandages have been wrapped around my shoulder and leg. My cheeks are tight with dried tears. My voice is strangled and hysteric. “Slate.”

Julian’s hand closes around mine and he pulls me back down. “Calm down, Lissa.”

I fall to the ground and press my hands flat against the cool floor. It trembles beneath my hands. I still myself, trying to make sense of this vibration.

That’s when I take in the room. The walls are metal, a soft silver that desperately tries to soothe my heart, like softhearted mothers, protecting in silence.

I breathe in, slowly. The blandness of oxygen rushes into me. It’s odd. I've breathed the air of Jutaire for so long that oxygen is ugly compared to it.

“The ship?” I ask in a whisper. My eyes find Julian’s and he smiles. A genuine smile, so rare. But it’s sad, like his eyes.

“Where you’ve wanted to be for so long.”

So long. So desperately. So much that so many lives were lost. Because of me.

“Slate,” I say again. A vise tightens around my heart.

“He’s fine. He’s recovering,” Julian says softly.

Fine. Alive. I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in relief. He’s alive.

“Can I see him?” I ask.

“Not yet.” He stands and holds out his hand, leading me to a circular window. I stumble at the rumbling of the ship and he smiles again. “You’ll get used to it.”