Ilona Andrews - On the Edge

“Why?” she wondered.

“I wasn’t responsible for anyone but myself,” he said. “It was simple that way.”

So not an officer then. “Were you happy?”

“I was content,” Declan said. “I was good at killing, and I was praised and rewarded for doing it well. It felt like the right place for me at the time.”

“I thought you were all about balls and etiquette and womanizing,” she needled him.

The look she got back was deadly serious. “You have an odd view of the life of a peer. Mostly it’s work. Lots and lots of work and lots of responsibility. At that time in my life, I didn’t want it. I still don’t, but now I have no choice.”

His voice was bitter and hollow. Rose looked away, not sure what to do with herself. “Tell me about your friend.”

“He’s a changeling,” Declan said. “A predator like Jack. There are few paths a changeling can take in our society, especially if they aren’t born into a family of means. My friend was born poor. He was abandoned by his mother at birth and given to the Citadel, Adrianglia’s premier military school. Changelings born into wealthy families are taught a certain way so one day they can reenter society.”

“And your friend wasn’t?” she guessed.

Declan shook his head. “He was a ward of the realm, and the realm never meant for him to live with other people. They made him into a killer. He was raised to have no emotions, only strict control and strict punishment when he failed. He told me that he grew up in a bare room, twelve feet by ten feet, which he shared with another boy. He was allowed no personal possessions except his clothes, a toothbrush, a comb, and a towel.”

“That’s awful,” she said. “You can’t lock children up like that. Any children. Jack has to be able to run in the Wood, to play. Without it, he would—”

“Go insane,” Declan finished. “Or learn to survive and carry a lot of hate.”

“How could your friend become a soldier after this? He had to have been”—she searched for a right word and couldn’t find it—“not okay.”

“He fit right in,” Declan said. “We were in the Red Legion. We did the necessary things people don’t want to know about.”

“Black ops?” she asked. What do you know, Latoya proved right—he was one of those bug-eating, wilderness-surviving, take-out-terrorists-with-a-pinecone-and-bubble-gum types.

“Black sounds about right. We went where nobody else could go, and we were very good at killing everything we found there. We weren’t bound by treaties or conventions. In that type of unit, few things are certain. You rely on yourself and, if you’re lucky, on a man or woman next to you. I watched out for my friend, and he watched out for me. He saved my life a few times, and I repaid the favor. Neither of us counted who owed what to whom. I would’ve died for him if needed.”

“Why?”

“Because he would’ve done the same for me,” Declan said.

“Who did you fight?”

Declan shrugged. “The Kingdom of Gaul. The Spanish Empire. The FOGL.”

“What is the FOGL?”

Declan dragged his hand across his face as if trying to peel the memories off. “It’s a religious sect. Forces of Great Lucifer. Their prime directive is to establish dominion over the entire world, and they go about it in pretty terrible ways. Adrianglia is full of refugees, from past conflicts and present. Some of them commit heinous crimes and require extraordinary measures to be neutralized. During one of these missions, things went wrong and my friend made the mistake of behaving like a human.”

“What happened?”

“There was a dam. A small band of criminals held it and its workers for ransom. They had attached a device to the dam supports and threatened to set off an explosion and drown the town below it. The dam was very old, almost labyrinthine, and everyone who knew its layout was inside, being held hostage. My friend went in because he was a changeling. He could rely on his sense of smell, and our superiors counted on his logic prevailing if he had to make a morally difficult choice. He was told that if the situation put the lives of the hostages against the security of the dam, he was to place greater importance on keeping the dam intact. If the dam had failed, the potential loss of life would be much greater than the deaths of the six people trapped inside.

“He tracked down the hostages, but the criminals had quarreled, and one of them set off the charges. My friend had a choice: he could go after the charges or he could save the hostages. He had what he called an attack of humanity and rescued the hostages. The dam burst, flooding the town. The flood didn’t result in any deaths, but the financial damages were staggering. He was court-martialed.”

“Why? For saving people?”

“For disobeying an order. He was sentenced to death.”

“But nobody was hurt!”

“It didn’t matter.” Declan’s face was merciless. “You see, they wanted to kill him not because he disobeyed the order but because he was a changeling who was judged unstable. They had turned him into a lethal killer, and they were happy to use him as long as he did exactly as told. But now they could no longer predict his actions.”

“They were going to put him down like an animal? What kind of country would do that?”

“He was a ward of the realm, and the realm was afraid of what he might do next. They didn’t want the responsibility of keeping the public safe from him.”

“Did you try to help him?”

“Yes. I left the military and assumed the title, because my status as a peer would give my words greater weight. I petitioned, I lobbied, I argued that if an ordinary soldier were in his place, he wouldn’t have received the death penalty.”

He’d abandoned his career to rescue his friend, and he said it without any bravado, like it was the obvious logical thing to do, not even deserving a second thought. Ten years of his life, and he’d turned his back on it for the sake of another person. Not many people would do that. She wasn’t sure she could’ve done it. That was admirable.

Rose bit her lip. “Did you save him?”

“No. I failed.”

He’d said it with such bitterness. His eyes had turned distant and mournful, as if dusted with ash. She wanted to reach out and touch him. To somehow make it better.

“At the last moment, Casshorn, the brother of the Duke of the Southern Provinces, adopted my friend, assuming complete responsibility for his actions. Because Casshorn was childless, and a high peer, he claimed the bloodline privilege. Basically, my friend was his only heir, and as such, the realm couldn’t kill him. Casshorn paid an exorbitant sum for his release.”

“That was very kind,” Rose said.

Declan gave her a flat look.

“What did I say?”

“Casshorn is a brigand. He’s a slimy stain upon the honor of the Duke’s house. He didn’t adopt my friend out of kindness. He adopted him because that was the only way he could’ve saved him from execution. See, my friend is lethal with a blade, and he hates—”

A clammy touch of foul magic brushed her. Rose froze. She didn’t really believe they had killed all the beasts, but she had hoped. Apparently, she was wrong.

“Keep talking,” Declan said. “I doubt the creature understands what’s being said, but it’s likely sensitive to the tone of our voices.”

“Where is it?” she asked lightly.

“On the left, near a small shed. Let’s get up and stroll a bit.”

He rose and offered her his hand. She took it mechanically, before realizing she had done it, and they walked side by side, wandering toward the road. Her hand rested in Declan’s calloused fingers, as if they were a couple of teenagers going steady. He was building his magic for one hell of a flash, his whole body wound tight, full of barely contained violence. It was like walking next to a tiger who decided that he liked you: Declan held her hand lightly, but he wasn’t about to let her get away.