Anne Winchell - The Last War

As soon as there was silence, she gripped the latch and shoved upwards. It hit against the bed frame with a crash. She braced herself for an attack, but the room seemed empty. She pushed the latch up slowly and wedged herself through, climbing from under the bed into a pool of luke-warm water. It was dark, only the moonlight shining through. No one was there.

The door slammed open and Nalia lifted her fists the way her father had taught her. A light switched on and she was temporarily blinded. She blinked rapidly until the light stopped stinging, and looked around. Klaus and three hefty members of the resistance stood at the doorway with mouths open. The floor was covered in maroon streaks and puddles. Not water. Blood. The trail continued out the door. Klaus signaled for the others to follow the trail and they vanished down the hall. Nalia couldn’t move.

Her hands were covered in blood. Not water. She had crawled through blood to get up. Wet, thick, crimson liquid drying on her skin. Her hands started rubbing her shorts as if they had a mind of their own, desperate to be clean. Red stained her pink shorts and her eyes blurred with tears.

“Honey,” her father said.

He took her hands in his and stopped their frantic movement.

“Are you hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head, then shivered. Her whole body felt defiled by the violence around her. And the blood. Klaus led her into the bathroom and started running the shower. She took a step forward to get into it but her father stopped her and motioned her to undress, politely turning his back. She pulled her clothes off and stepped into the water. Hot. It was burning. She shut her eyes against the pain and said nothing. She needed to be burned. Her skin was probably turning red from the heat, red like the blood on her hands. Her father suggested turning the water colder but she ignored him. Eyes closed, she let the steam and water cleanse her.

Nalia had never seen something like that before. She wondered what had happened, if Raven was safe. Or if Raven had killed someone. She shivered and leaned into the water, letting it burn across her closed eyes. She knew he had killed someone. The shapes of the blurs on the floor. People must have attacked him, he fired, they fought back, and he killed someone and dragged the body outside. She wondered if he thought that by disposing of the body, it changed the fact that he had killed another human. He was a killer. She had been so close to him, touching him, enjoying him, thinking that he was a real person like her. But he wasn’t. Klaus was right. There was no way Raven could be a normal person after the things that he had done.

When the water started to run cold, a warm towel was handed to her. Klaus helped her step out of the shower. The air was thick with steam but she could still feel the blood on her hands, and the feel of Raven’s skin. Klaus held out a nightgown for her. He hadn’t helped her dress since before she went to Seoul, long before her mother had died. She liked having his attention. She knew that he would never kill anyone.

Nalia finally opened her eyes to see her father’s face red and blotchy from the heat and tears. He hugged her like she was a child again.

“Where is he,” she whispered, not really wanting to know. She never wanted to see Raven again.

“Gone,” Klaus said.

“Good.”

She closed her eyes and held her father close. She was taller than him, she realized with surprise. Not much, not enough to notice when they faced each, but obvious when they were so close. She snuggled her head into his neck. She didn’t want to be taller. She wanted to be his little girl again.

“He was the target,” Klaus said. It sounded like the words were strangling him but he kept going. “We found a drugged dart. They must have overpowered him and drugged him, then kidnapped him. Atheus placed a reward on him, alive. We just found out.”

Nalia looked at her father. “He didn’t kill anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Klaus admitted. “I heard five gunshots and we only found three bullets in the room. But if he did,” Klaus’ face grew cloudy and he squeezed her shoulders. “It was self-defense, Nalia.”

“Not if they didn’t plan on killing him,” Nalia said.

She was furious that her father seemed to be siding with Raven. She had finally realized that Klaus was right about Raven being a killer; Klaus had no right to change his mind now.

“He didn’t know that.”

Nalia’s lip jutted forward and she knew she looked like a pouting child, but she couldn’t help it. She was confused and couldn’t figure out what she was supposed to be feeling. Anger. Definitely. But towards whom? Raven, for killing someone? Or for treating her like a child and making her hide? Her father seemed like he was trying to help her but his words were just upsetting her more. She was mostly angry at whoever had broken in, she decided. Hired assassins, probably, if they were responding to a bounty. People who valued money over life. Scum.

“Where did they take him?” she finally asked.

She didn’t know how she felt but she knew it was her responsibility to take care of Raven if he was in trouble. She had hired him, after all.

“We don’t know. A few people saw a car drive off but no one knew enough to follow.”

They couldn’t go to the police for help tracking the car, Nalia knew. Not since Raven had left Medane’s service. The police might have even been the ones to take him. Nalia let out a sigh. Her first priority was finding Raven and making sure he was alive. That was more important than anything else, she told herself. Even more important than knowing whether or not he had killed someone just a few feet away from her, just moments after they had held each so closely. No. She would ignore that for now. First, she needed to find him.

The monitor on Atheus’ left blinked. Medane was attempting to contact him. Atheus and Kaela were nearly back in the United Western World, safely ensconced in Atheus’ private plane. Lethe had agreed to give Atheus a few hours before informing Medane. Atheus loved how easily he could manipulate Lethe into thinking of Medane as the enemy. Medane had practically set himself up, and Atheus was already trying to figure out how to lay all the blame from the new díamont on Medane’s head.

Atheus shut the monitor off. Technically, it was illegal to use visual communication during flight, Atheus thought. Medane had implemented that rule. Even though monitors were built into every plane model, they were not used for communication because Medane was worried about an increase in crashes. Atheus didn’t bother with the details; it was usually better to humor Medane, and it kept Medane under the impression that Atheus cared about the humans. The longer Medane believed that, the longer Atheus had to find a way to kill him.

Atheus felt a shallow sympathy for his friend. He remembered the Last War and how close he had been to Medane. They had shared everything. Hopes, dreams, fears… Mostly fears, as the war continued. They felt betrayed by their brother Soren and horrified by his actions and the deaths he was causing, but neither of them ever asked Soren why he was doing it until just before his death. Not his death, Atheus corrected himself. The nuclear blast that disabled all three of them. It was essentially Soren’s death, however, since he never woke up. When Medane left to get the bomb, Atheus had tried his hardest to keep Soren in one place. He didn’t want the díamont causing any more damage and he knew he had to delay Soren until Medane could return. Atheus had succeeded, in a way, but Soren had spoken to him. Soren, silver-tongued snake that he was, always managed to persuade people to agree with him and Atheus was on guard. But Soren had made no attempt to plead for his life or even use his friendship with Atheus to save himself. Instead, he had leaned close to Atheus.