Anew: Book Two: Hunted (34 page)

“Of course it is.” How can he be so oblivious as to think
that I could have stayed under such circumstances? Perhaps I need to spell it
out for him. Though my throat is clogged with tears, I manage to say, “I’m not
her. I can’t be the woman you want in your heart. Realizing that
was…devastating.”

Silence drags out between us. As we begin walking again, I
entertain the sudden wish that we could leave the truth behind in the darkness
as though it doesn’t exist. But what happened in the hotel suite can’t be
undone and I shouldn’t want it to be. Honesty is all I have left. Whether I can
make a life on that harsh foundation remains to be seen.

The tunnel seems to stretch on endlessly. I start to wonder
if there is any way out. Just when I think he isn’t going to respond at all,
Ian sighs deeply, the sound of a man letting down a vast burden. Far more
gently than before, he asks, “You didn’t leave because of what I did to you?”

My heart tightens. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
What is so difficult for him to understand? If only I had left for that reason
but I am who I am. To deny myself would be the ultimate betrayal, vastly worse
than anything Ian or anyone else could ever do to me.

 “I could have left at any time. Obviously, I didn’t want
to.” I have to force myself to breathe before I can continue. “Face it, Ian,
I’m nothing like Susannah.”

More silence until I think I truly can’t bear it. The ground
slopes downward, leading us further into a dark underworld. The world above--of
carefully crafted beauty, contrived gaiety, and rampant cruelty--seems far
away. But there is still enough light from the ventilation shafts for me to see
that our surroundings have changed. The remains of a structure older even than
the library are rising around us.

In a bid to distract myself, I ask, “Where are we?”

“Under the foundation of the library,” he says absently. “It
was built on top of an old reservoir fed by an aqueduct. Two hundred years ago,
clean water from here made the difference between life and death for people in
this city.”

As he speaks, I glimpse a darkly rippling river nearby. In
my heightened emotional state, I imagine that it could be the Styx, the ancient
boundary between the world of the living and Hades. The sight makes me stiffen as
my own memories of the gestation chamber stir.

Softly, Ian says, “I don’t remember dreaming about Susannah,
much less calling out to her. But there’s only one reason why I would have--”

He breaks off suddenly, his attention drawn by a flicker of
movement in the shadows. In an instant, I am thrust behind him, protected by
the big, hard bulk of his body.

 “Ian--?”

After a moment, he relaxes. “It’s all right. It’s just
scavengers.”

Peering over his shoulder, I see several women and girls
crouched on the other side of the water with pails and buckets. They stare back
at us for an instant before abruptly fleeing into the darkness.

Watching them go, a sense of shock and guilt washes over me.
My own burdens are forgotten, if only temporarily. “No one should have to live
like that,” I say.

“You’re right,” Ian replies. “No one should.”

I wait for him to tell me again that, notwithstanding how
bad life is for the scavengers, the chaos that would follow social upheaval
would be worse. But instead, he says, “Davos and the others have to be
stopped.” His tone is icily calm. He sounds like a man who has come to an
irrevocable decision. A shiver of apprehension moves through me.

“Why say that now when you wouldn’t before?” When he doesn’t
answer, I shake my head vehemently. “Tell me that it’s not because of what he
wants to do to me.” The thought that I could be the catalyst that unleashes the
violence and chaos that Ian has feared is unbearable.

“That was always more than enough reason,” Ian says. “I
should have realized it from the beginning.” He strokes my cheek with the back
of his fingers in a gesture that is at once gentle and apologetic. Holding my
gaze, he says, “Amelia, the only reason I would have called out to Susannah is
because when I was with her, I didn’t have to deal with my true nature. I could
just shove it down and pretend it didn’t exist. I can’t do that with you. I
tried, God knows, but I kept failing. All I want is to keep you safe and happy.
But then Davos came along with his damn smart drug and--

Drug? Before I can ask him what he means, Ian’s mouth thins.
Harshly, he says, “He’ll stop at nothing. Neither will the men who support him.
Unless someone stops them, they’ll destroy everything that is still good and
hopeful and decent in this world. I can’t let that happen.”

I’m all too aware that he would have killed Davos already if
I hadn’t intervened. But I can’t regret what I did, not when it means that Ian
is standing right here in front of me, safe and whole. That he is also speaking
words I can scarcely dare to believe stuns me.

 “I want to understand,” I say, “truly I do. But you
were dreaming of her even after all we--” My voice breaks. I can’t go on.

To my astonishment, I realize that he’s blushing. Quietly,
he says, “If she was in my mind, it wasn’t despite what happened between us. It
was because of it. I was terrified that I’d driven you too far and that you’d
never forgive me for what I did.”

My cheeks are as warm as his own. I have to force myself to
look at him. “You didn’t notice…how I responded to you? I thought the issue of
whether or not I possess free will was settled not long after we met.” Rather
memorably, I would think, but perhaps he’s forgotten.

“It was,” he says. But in the next breath, his conviction
wavers. “I think so…I hope…”

I grasp his face between my hands. Embarrassment, modesty,
and every other hindrance to truth falls away. I can’t let him go on having any
doubt about this. “No, Ian, you
know
. I choose you. I have from the very
beginning but that doesn’t make it any less of a choice.”

He wants to believe me, I can tell. But still he hesitates.
So low that I can hardly hear him, he says, “You cried. I saw you. And even
that didn’t stop me.” His gaze is filled with guilt that I cannot bear for him
to carry a moment longer.

“I was thinking of Susannah,” I admit. “Of how gently you
treated her, like spun glass, you said. I thought of how she brought out the
noblest and best aspects of your nature while I--”

I can’t go on but I don’t have to. Ian cups my chin in his
hand. Softly, he says, “You bring out all of me, Amelia. Not just the parts I
want to admit to. I’ve been in pieces for so long that I thought there was no
other way to live. Then you came along and put me back together.”

I’m crying again. I can’t help it and I don’t even try. This
is how we are--messy, carnal, striving and uncertain. Human. After what I saw
in the Club, the purity of our mutual desire is cleansing. The brush of my lips
against his is filled with tremulous yearning. His response is instant and fierce.
A groan escapes him as his mouth claims mine.

His breath is the oxygen of life. I inhale him greedily, my
tongue twisting with his as we savor one another. There is desperation to this
kiss. We are reaching for each other through barriers of fear and misunderstanding
that have cracked but not yet dissolved. We need time…to talk, to touch, to
simply be together. He feels as though he wants to be inside me and I want him
there, desperately. But we are surrounded by darkness and the pressing urgency
of danger.

Too quickly, he pulls back and looks down at me. His voice
roughened by passion. “Don’t ever, not for a moment, believe that you are less
than everything to me.”

“As you are to me,” I murmur through my tears. Unable to
help myself, I cup the back of his head, my fingers tangling in the soft
crispness of his hair, and draw him toward me once again. Just one more
taste…one more…

Crack!

A spray of small, powdery particles explodes from the spot
on the wall next to where Ian’s head was an instant before. A white gash
appears in the old stone. At its center is the black scar of a bullet.

Amelia

N
o, no, no!
For
a horrible moment, I think I’m going to faint. The world takes a violent lurch
and I’m on the ground. Ian thrusts me into the shadows at the base of the wall.

“Stay here,” he hisses. “Don’t move.”

Terrified, I grab hold of him. “No, don’t go! Whoever’s out
there was aiming at you, not me. If you move, you’ll be a target!”

“It’s Davos,” he says grimly. “Him or one of his goons. He
isn’t just going away. He’ll close in and finish the job.”

“You said Hollis was sending men into the tunnel,” I remind
him desperately. “They could be here at any moment. Let them deal with him.”

For a moment, I think he’ll relent but the crack of a second
shot just above us erases any such hope.

“You never fail to disappoint, Slade,” Davos shouts. The
whip has transformed his voice into a high-pitched rasp but there’s no
mistaking either his arrogance or his rage. “Just when I think there’s hope for
you, you prove me wrong!”

“He’s bat shit crazy,” Ian mutters. “He blew up the Crystal
Palace when that didn’t go his way and now this. If ever a man needed
killing--”

I can’t help but think that he’s right. Davos may have been
sane at some point in his life but he clearly isn’t now. But far worse, he’s
drawing Ian out. Making him decide that he has to put himself in mortal danger
in order to stop him. Crazy, maybe, but Davos is still a genius at
manipulation.

A sudden impulse seizes me. Before I can think better of it,
I call out, “He can’t hear you. He’s wounded!”

Ian stiffens and for a moment I think he’s going to make it
all too clear that I’m lying. Instead, he murmurs, “What the hell are you
doing?”

Before he can stop me, I wiggle out from under him and get
to my knees. I’m betting that I’m too valuable to Davos for him to kill me
outright. If I’m wrong--

“He’s unconscious!” I say. My anguish and fear for Ian pour
out. I sound like a young woman overcome with horror, on the verge of breaking
down completely. In case Davos has any doubts, I add, “I think he’s dying!”

As I speak, I clamber to my feet. The dark channel of water
flows swiftly by. For the first time, I notice that it’s crossed at intervals
by narrow stone spans that unexpectedly are in good repair. They must be kept
that way by the scavengers. More even than Ian or Davos, they know the
underground city and the secrets that it holds.

 “Watch where you’re going!” Davos yells as I force
myself closer to the water and deliberately stumble again. “You’ll fall in!”

Yes! Let him think that. It will force him to act.

“I don’t care! I have to get away!”

His curse is raw and virulent. “Stop! I’m coming across.
Stay where you are!”

I don’t dare glance over my shoulder to see what Ian is
doing but I sense him in the darkness, on his feet, crouched low, moving
between shadows.

If I can keep Davos distracted-- “You want to hurt me!”

“No! That’s a lie! I know how wonderful you are, Amelia. How
special. Ian wanted to keep you to himself. I want to share you with the world.
You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know…” Desperately, I try to keep him talking.

“Of course, you would. What woman wouldn’t? You’ll be
adored, worshipped even. You’re a superior being, Amelia. With me, you can be
the beginning of an entirely new race of humans. You’ll be their Eve.”

Bile rises in my throat. No doubt the race of humans that
Davos envisions creating will be superior in his eyes. Docile slaves to do the
bidding of the elite are vastly preferable to the great mass of humans who
refuse to believe that their time has passed but who instead go on stubbornly
determined to live.

With a shock, I realize that there may be no better example
of that than the scavengers. Instead of fleeing the sounds of gunshots and
screams, they are coming out of the shadows and cautiously drawing nearer. Most
are men, all are armed. Among the clubs, spears, and old vintage rifles I
glimpse an unexpected scattering of far more up-to-date weapons.

Dimly, I wonder how they came by such things and what their
possession of them would mean if an uprising ever does occur. But there’s no
time to think of that. Davos has yet to notice that we are no longer alone. He
crosses the nearest stone span and comes toward me. His arm is outstretched,
the gun pointed into the shadows where Ian is no longer.

“If you’re lying to me--” he begins.

He doesn’t get any further. Ian comes out the darkness
straight at him, hurtling them both to the ground. With his youth and strength,
the struggle is brief, or it should be. A scream bubbles up in my throat when I
realize that Davos is no longer alone. Men in dark suits are rushing down the
tunnel to his aid. He sees them, too, but his smile of triumph is short lived.

The scavengers have taken up position on the other side of
the water. Confronted by a threat to the only world that offers them any
safety, they don’t hesitate. As they open fire, several of the goons fall,
wounded or dead, I can’t tell which. A few of the others return fire but they
retreat quickly before the men in ragged clothes who will not yield an inch of
the ground on which they stand.

And they aren’t alone. Men in the uniforms of Slade
Enterprises are coming from the other end of the tunnel. They move at a run, in
tight formation, closing on us quickly. They will be here in seconds. Davos
throws back his head with a howl of rage that makes the hairs on the nape of my
neck rise. Whatever is inside him, it is not meant to see the light of day. He
fires wildly, the bullet winging past just inches from my side.

“Amelia!”

Instinctively, Ian moves to protect me. He abandons his hold
on Davos, who quickly scrambles to escape. The scavengers have cut off access
to one end of the tunnel and Ian’s men are coming from the other. That leaves
only the aqueduct.

 “You think you’ve won,” Davos shouts. “You have no
idea what you’ve unleashed!”

His taunt is still booming against the tunnel walls when he
hurtles himself into the dark, swirling waters and swiftly vanishes from sight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Ian and I return to the surface, Hollis and the
men with him have possession of the Club. The Lords of Misrule have fled. The
faceless servants are in custody along with the few goons left alive. Of the
women, I see no sign at all. I remind myself to make sure that they will be
cared for.

Sitting huddled in Ian’s jacket while he and Hollis talk,
the final moments in the tunnel keep replaying in my mind. Davos…his maniacal
smile…the glee behind his words as he went into the dark water.

He never struck me as suicidal. Evil, obsessed, dangerous,
all that but I never once thought that he might take his own life. He
is--was?--far too narcissistic for that. But once he was cornered, confronted
with having to face the consequences for what he had done including trying to
kill two of the most powerful men in the city, might he have chosen death as
the better alternative?

Try though I do, I can’t quite wrap my head around that.

“Ready to go?” Ian asks softly.

He has concluded his conversation with Hollis and is at my
side, looking down at me with an expression of such fierce gentleness that he
robs me of breath. I take his hand and am drawn up close beside him. Our bodies
brush once…again…and the fire that is never far beneath the surface ignites.

Against the curve of my cheek, Ian murmurs, “Let’s go home.”

Oh, yes.
Home. High in the clouds above the city, or
in the serenity of the palazzo, or amid the warmth and honesty of the beach
house. Home is wherever Ian is. The only place I want to be.

And yet…something makes me hesitate.

“What did Davos mean?” I hate even saying his name but I
can’t let this go.

“About what?”

“Right at the end, when he said that you had no idea what
you were unleashing.”

Ian sighs. He presses his lips lightly to my forehead. “He
was insane, Amelia. Remember? Forget what he said. All that matters is that
he’s dead.”

“Are you sure that he is?” I blurt out the question before I
can stop myself. As much as I want to believe Ian, I still can’t reconcile the
Davos both I and Susannah knew with his actions right at the end.

“By now his body is jammed in one of the old water tunnels
that are fed by the aqueduct,” Ian says. “Divers will go in and recover it.
That is if the scavengers don’t get it first.” Quietly, he adds, “They were a
surprise.”

I nod. “I can’t help wondering what they’d be able to do if
they had some support.”

“I wouldn’t put them up against the Municipal Protection
Services.”

“No, of course not--”

“At least not yet,”

I’m mulling over this sudden glimpse into the future that he
may be contemplating when Ian glances toward the entrance to the Club.
“Speaking of, the MPS has arrived. Their commander wants a word. It will just
take a minute and then we’ll go, all right?”

“Yes, of course.”

We step out together into the glare of searchlights that
eclipse the soft blanket of dusk settling over the rest of the city. I’m
distantly aware of drones hovering overhead, relaying images of the scene back
to whoever is authorized to receive them. It’s a safe bet that doesn’t include
Manhattan’s residents, snug in their luxury cocoons, dreaming that they are
butterflies. I wonder how much they will ever be allowed to know about the
horrors just below the surface of their city. Or how much they would care in
any case.

A man in the benign blue MPS uniform ornamented with an
array of ribbons and insignia approaches. He’s tall, very fit, and with a
practiced air of command but he’s not as imperturbable as he appears at first
glance. On closer scrutiny, I can see that despite the coolness of the evening,
his forehead is beaded with sweat.

“Mr. Slade,” he says, “If you’d just step over here. I’d
like to get a video statement from you. It will only take a moment.”

Ian shrugs. He leaves me with Hollis, who has come with us,
and goes to stand in front of the camera that’s already set up and waiting.

“Whenever you’re ready,” the commander says. He steps back.

As Ian begins explaining in calm, measured tones why his
forces invaded a private club patronized by many of the most powerful men in
the city, I look around. There must be several hundred members of the MPS on
hand, all heavily armed. They have their visors down, making it impossible to
see their faces. But I can see that several are fingering their weapons. Some,
like their commander, are visibly sweating.

Most of Ian’s men are still inside the Club, guarding
prisoners and searching for anyone who might be hiding on the premises. But
several dozen have joined us. A small enough number against the MPS.

Why am I thinking that? Ian is just giving a statement and
then we’re going. Of course, there will be more to follow in the coming days.
The Council will want to appear to still be in charge even if Davos really is
dead and despite the fact that their other masters, the Lords of Misrule, are
in disarray. Perhaps Ian will appear before them again--

The words I spoke to him right before he left for the
Council meeting yesterday suddenly echo in my mind. “You aren’t above the law,
Ian, however unjust it is. If you’re seen as posing a threat to the established
order, there won’t be any limits to the response against you. What happens
then?”

Speaking into the camera, he says, “Those who hold power in
this city and beyond must be held accountable for their actions by all
citizens.”

An icy finger of dread moves down my spine. The officer in
charge has backed farther away from where Ian is standing, leaving him alone in
a circle of light. I become aware of a low, persistent hum that is growing
louder. Looking up, I see yet another drone approaching. But this one is
different. A dark, cylindrical shape hangs below its belly. I don’t know what
it is but the sight of it strikes fear into me all the same.

“Ian!” I cry out.

He hears and turns but just as he does, the drone launches.
I have an instant to see a gleaming projectile hurtling on its trajectory
before the scene vanishes in an incandescent burst. The force of the explosion
staggers me. I only just manage to stay upright, gasping and fighting for
breath. With torturous slowness, my vision clears. What I see drags a scream
from the depths of my soul.

Ian is lying motionless among shards of smoking metal. His
body is twisted in a shape that tells me instantly that he is seriously hurt.
Or worse. I can’t think of that.
I can’t!

Hollis is cursing, yelling orders to the men who are
streaming out of the Club, taking up positions facing off against the MPS. But
I’m hardly aware of them. I’m running, screaming, falling to my knees beside
Ian. I cradle his head in my lap, sobbing. His blood flows into my hands; I
can’t stop it. My heart is shattering. No nightmare I have endured, no pain I
have experienced has ever come close to equaling this. I hold onto him
desperately, pleading with him to stay, to fight. To live. But he is beyond
hearing me.