Jay Posey - Morningside Fall

“I think it started right, or close to it. When we started, we all just wanted to keep it all together. But after the big attack, and Wren makin’ that announcement that we were bringin’ everybody in… it didn’t take long for us to start wantin’ other things. Different things.”

“And you were going to murder my little boy for it.”

He shook his head again forcefully. “No, Cass. I don’t blame you for not believin’ me, I know I wouldn’t. But no, I just thought it’d rattle him. Make him see why it was dangerous to have those people around. But then your son, that boy, he went and surprised us all. Said to let it go. Forget about it, move on like it never happened. Well, not a one of us had thought of that. After that, everyone started spinnin’ their own plans.

“And then when we found out it was Painter’s sister. Well, good God, I wanted to hang myself. And I thought maybe when he found us in that room with Wren, I thought maybe he’d found out. And Connor…” He looked over at his rifle. “Well, I guess maybe there’s something to that… reapin’ what you sow.”

His eyes went glassy for a moment, and Cass left him to his own thoughts while she wrestled through her own. Pieces were starting to come together for her, in a broken kind of way that made it seem all the more true. Factions within factions. Plans gone awry, either from sabotage or because the plans themselves were poorly made. Overreactions, overcorrections.

People usually talked about conspiracies like they were so clean-cut, always perfectly executed. The schemes revealed in her mind were a tangled mess. And that made them believable, because they were so utterly human.

“Hondo and Vye, I understand,” she said. “I never felt right around those two. But what about North? Rae?”

Aron came back to himself and looked at her.

“Rae, no, Rae’s too much a straight-shooter, too strong-minded. I don’t think she ever knew much about what the rest of us were up to. And North… well, I never could read North. He’s a power player to be sure, and he looks out for himself. But truth be told, I got the feelin’ he’s careful about stayin’ in the inner circle because he don’t like what might happen if he wasn’t.”

“And what about you, Aron? What now?” Cass asked.

“Now… now I’m trying to do what I should’ve been doin’ all along. Just takin’ care of people with my own hands, the best I know how.”

“Kicked off the Council?”

He made a dismissive sound. “Naw, I quit. Told ’em what I thought they could do with their High Council.” He shook his head. “No, I’m goin’ with ’em. Been talkin’ with the Awakened here, and some others. Once we all move outside, we’re gonna run the patrols, keep these people safe. It’s what I shoulda been doin’ all along. What about you?”

Cass got to her feet. “I think I’ll pay a visit to our High Council in the morning.”

Aron stood and nodded. “You’re welcome to stay here tonight, if you don’t mind sharin’ some space. Might be safer than tryin’ to go somewhere else.”

“I may take you up on that,” Cass said. She wanted to catch up with Kit, and as much as she wanted to stay angry at Aron, she felt his change of heart had been genuine and thorough. There wasn’t much point in harboring hatred for a repentant man when she already felt so short of allies. She wasn’t ready to trust him yet, but she could see maybe doing it again one day. She nodded and started towards the door. Just before she left, Aron cleared his throat. Cass stopped and turned in the doorway.

“I know it don’t change nothin’,” he said. “But I am sorry for hurtin’ you, Cass. For all of it.”

She nodded. And for some reason, an old dusty box on the workbench caught her eye. It looked like rifle ammunition. Cass nodded towards the rifle.

“Didn’t know you were much of a shooter.”

“Was, back in the day,” Aron said. “Been a long time.” He smiled and gazed down at the weapon, and rested his hand lovingly on it. “She looks like a sweetheart, but she hits like an angry drunk.”

“What’s she shoot?”

Aron flipped up the lid on the old box, and pulled out a large shell. He held it up for Cass to see.

“Thirty kilojoules,” he said. “You ever seen anything that mean before?”

“I have,” Cass said. “Got any extra?”

Aron looked puzzled and a little taken aback. “I don’t know about extra,” he said, “but how many you need?”

“How about three?”

There were still plenty in the box. He took out two more shells and handed her the three hefty rounds.

“Don’t lose ’em,” he said. “They don’t make ’em much anymore.”

Cass slipped them into a pocket.

“I’ll be sure to keep my eye on where I put them.”

She gave him a parting nod and left him to his work.

Wren’s room was small, but nicely furnished, with a bed, a couple of chairs, a table, a desk, and a small lamp that glowed with a warm orange, almost like firelight. They had brought him dinner, and Joris had stayed with him while he ate. But that had been a couple of hours ago, and no one had come by since.

Outside, night had fallen completely, and Wren had been growing increasingly anxious as darkness closed in, wondering if perhaps tonight would be the night that Asher would make himself known. But now as Wren sat quietly on his bed, he could hear no calls or cries from the Weir. At first he’d wondered if he’d been placed in a room where the windows were too thick to hear any noises of the night. Then he’d heard the low murmur of occasional voices in the courtyard and known that the silence of the Weir was genuine.

But, strangely, the air seemed heavy. Wren didn’t really know how else to describe it. It was like the night itself had weight, and was pressing down on all the city. Even when he tried to stretch out through the digital, it took more effort. He had made several more attempts to connect to the machine, and had each time had the same result. The signal was just too complex for him to hold on to.

Wren’s body was overwhelmingly tired from the day, but his mind was too active. He was just thinking about trying to see if he could fall asleep anyway, when there was a gentle knock at the door. It seemed strange for someone to knock on his door, given the fact that he couldn’t open it himself. Or rather, he could if he wanted to risk it, but he knew that would very likely invite the wrath of the three guards they had posted outside. The Council was too well aware of his talent for locks.

“You can come in,” Wren said.

The door clicked, and the handle turned; when the door opened there was a hulking frame behind it. North.

“Hello, Wren,” he said, stepping into the room. “May I join you?”

“Sure.”

North bowed his head slightly, and then closed the door behind him.

“I can’t stay long,” he said. “But I wanted you to know that I am sorry for how things have gone.”

“OK. Are you going to let me go then?”

North gave a small smile and shook his head. “Not at this time. But you should know that not all is at it appears.” He stepped closer, as if someone might be listening in. “Is what you said about your brother true?”

“Yes.”

North paused in thought. Then he nodded to himself. “I will see what I can do about getting you access to the machine. If not tomorrow, the next day.”

“There may not be a next day,” Wren said.

“The walls are strong, little one,” North said. “We need not fear the Weir.”

Wren shook his head. “You’re wrong, North. You don’t understand.”

“I know these are hard times. But you are young and have seen fewer of them than I have. We’ll find our way through, you’ll see.”