Nick James - Crimson rising

In one fluid motion, he lays pressure on my right arm and flips me. We twist so that his back is to the ground. I watch the tundra grow closer and closer, a dark sheet of dirt and rock that will mark my last living moments.

We begin to slow. The wind calms as we defy gravity. The sky feels heavy. We crawl through it. I have a moment to tilt my head and watch the mountains. But I can’t see the Skyship. We’ve drifted too far away.

We fall, slower until it’s like we’re not moving at all. The man stares at me the entire time, wide-eyed and mute. Never blinking.

I consider speaking-screaming, even-but before I can make any sound at all, his fingers unlatch and he brings up his knees to prod me in the stomach. I fly in an arch over his head, rolling through the air until I hit the dirt and land hard on my chest.

It takes a moment before I’m able to compose myself. The breath flows back into my lungs. I push myself onto my hands and knees and cough. I’m covered in dirt. Tiny shards of rocks dig themselves into my skin.

As soon as I’m able, I stand and spin to see if the man is still there.

He is. Closer than I remembered.

He stands several yards from me, arms at his sides. Black shirt, black pants. Only his face is visible in the moonlight. From this distance, all I can see clearly are the eyes.

They pierce the darkness like twin beacons, reflective in the night like a cat’s.

And there’s something else-a loop of black metal attached to a chain around his neck. I wouldn’t notice it against the dark shirt, except that it shines with a glint of moonlight. It’s the only adornment on his simple clothing, and matches the sheen of my bracelet.

I back away, fearful of what he might do. But the fact is, at the last possible moment, he saved me.

I cough again, trying to find my voice. The man stands in silence and stares. Then, with the only whisper I have left, I clear my throat and speak. It’s probably a shot in the dark, but I have to try.

“D-dad?”

It comes out smaller than I mean it to. The wind snaps most of the sound away before it even reaches the guy. I try again.

“Dad?”

He blinks. Then, without a word, he turns and runs.

“Wait!” I follow the best I can, but he’s too fast. “Don’t run away!”

His legs pump like pistons along the barren terrain until he’s running with more velocity than a shuttle. I keel over in exhaustion and watch him. His silhouette shrinks as he escapes into the distance. Then, just as he’s about to disappear altogether, he crouches and jumps.

And flies.

I watch the man shoot into the sky like the blast of a cannon. A blink of an eye and he’s gone.

I collapse to my knees and stare at the stars, waiting for him to loop around and come back.

He doesn’t. Maybe he never will.

Cassius squirmed in the restraints. His left foot had itched for the last twenty minutes, right on the sole where he didn’t have a chance of scratching. Worse than that, he desperately wanted to reach behind and pull Madame’s device from his neck, but she was right. Even if he’d had control of his arms, he couldn’t feel a thing back there. No tingle or rawness from a scar. But he knew it was inside. That was enough.

Various Unified Party officials had been in throughout the day, spoon feeding him breakfast and lunch. The woman in the morning had been downright chatty, blabbering like he was her long lost grandson. The lunch guy- younger and less smiley-hadn’t said a word. Instead, he’d glared at Cassius through thick glasses as he ladled a stew into his lips.

He looked at the clock on the far wall. It had been over an hour since anyone had visited. The silence was becoming unbearable. His limbs stiffened. They’d started to cramp early in the morning. Now they were nearly numb. Numb would be better.

He longed to conjure the fire inside of him, to break free of the shackles and shake the stillness of the room. But, true to Madame’s word, his body remained unresponsive.

He tried not to think about mind control. Harnessing. She’d told him his mind would function fully, but impulses would steer him in directions he didn’t want to go. Madame’s impulses, his body. It was a dangerous combination.

It couldn’t happen. He wouldn’t let it.

But Madame knew him too well. Without his power, he was as helpless as any other prisoner. The thick metal bands locked him in place. Strength didn’t matter. All the agility and combat skills in the world were useless to him now. There had to be another way.

The door cracked open. He balled his fingers into fists, expecting Madame. Instead, a brown haired kid-twelve or thirteen-crept into the room and shut the door carefully behind him. His messy hair stuck in a diagonal across his forehead, framing a youthful, dirt-specked face at odds with his intense, rattled eyes. Cassius had seen this kid before. Only once, but he remembered it clearly.

Last spring, a day before boarding Skyship Atlas in search of Fisher, Cassius had watched this boy leave Madame’s office. The thought of someone else having a direct line to her had bugged him then. It didn’t matter so much now, but seeing the kid evoked immediate anger. Bad memories.

As soon as the door was safely secured behind him, the boy’s shoulders relaxed. A ratty undershirt hung over his gaunt body. Cassius caught the glint of metal hanging from the back of his belt.

The kid took a step forward. A devilish smile spread over his face. “So you’re the legendary Cassius Stevenson? You don’t look like much.”

Cassius stared, unsure of what to say, or whether to say anything at all. The boy’s immaturity showed in the way he carried himself, bobbing around the room like he had too much energy for his body to contain. He could be a mirage-a vision of his half-conscious mind.

Cassius closed his eyes. When he opened them the boy was still there. He swallowed, and found his tired voice. “What are you, the court jester?”

“Nah.” The boy continued to approach. “My name’s Theo. Theo Rayne. I guess we’re kinda brothers, in a way.”

Cassius grunted. “Great. Another one.”

Theo’s smile straightened, though the corners of his lips still curled slightly. “She’s always talking about you. I get sick of it sometimes. I mean, look at you, chained to the wall like a human sacrifice. What’s so great about that?”

Cassius’s eyelids drooped slightly as he fought to stay lucid. “You’re one of Madame’s kids, aren’t you? I saw you coming out of her office last spring.”

Theo’s shoulder twitched. “My real mom was gunned down before I could speak. So yeah, Madame’s the only mother I got.”

He sighed. A part of him knew this kid, everything he had thought and felt while growing up in the Lodge- everything Madame had told him, every stupid line she’d used to manipulate his behavior. In a different situation, he might try to convince the boy to leave while he still had a chance, but he wasn’t feeling particularly charitable at the moment. There were more important things on his mind. Chiefly: How can I exploit this kid to my advantage?

“She’s using you,” Cassius mumbled.

Theo smiled. “Sure is. Woman’s got a use for everything, doesn’t she? Definitely got a use for you. She’s always got a use for the great Cassius Stevenson.”

He chuckled. He hadn’t felt so great when Madame had abandoned him in Washington to capture Fisher, or when she’d let him destroy a train full of innocent passengers without even trying to clean up the mess.

Theo moved closer until Cassius could feel the kid’s breath on his neck. He paused for a moment, staring up at him with wild, dangerous eyes before turning abruptly and strolling to the far side of the room. Cassius noticed the glint of metal beside his back pocket again. A knife. How antiquated.