Chapter 29
The hem of Lila’s purplecoat slapped at her calves as she trudged downstairs into the basement, each stair jolting her abdomen, each step afterward a proud refusal to use the limestone walls as a crutch. Dixon and a purplecoat walked beside her, ready to catch her if needed.
Lila refused to need them on principle.
The mercs inside the cells peered through their windows as she passed, watching warily. They’d seen Olivier brought in the day before. Perhaps he’d even managed to spread the story of his chase through the cells, gloating about the gunshots that had laid Lila and the others so low.
Lila wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of a bent back. She looked each merc in the eyes with practiced highborn haughtiness, then turned sharply into the interrogation room.
The purplecoats remained outside, guarding the entrance.
Mòr and her sister broke off their conversation. “How was your nap?” the oracle asked as Lila plopped into a proffered chair with a grunt. Dixon settled in behind her, hovering.
“Unnecessary and overly warm,” Lila said. Dixon had piled several blankets atop her on the cabin’s couch. He’d fussed with the fireplace as well, stoking the flames in the middle of the day. She’d only slept because of exhaustion and her pain medication. When she woke, her tropical nurse had brought her a fresh tray from Chef Annag, upon which sat a bowl of lentil soup and a bowl of strawberries.
“I trust Dr. McCrae,” Mòr said. “If she says you need to rest, then you need to rest. You got shot yesterday, Lila.”
“I remember. Did Camille finish her sketches of the La Verde team?”
“Yes. They matched the pictures of several mercs who died in the warehouse.”
“You’ll need to contact the La Verde oracle, then. Her network personnel should go through her systems and make sure the moles didn’t leave any surprises behind.”
“I already have. Kara’s started the same thing on our network too,” the oracle said. “Blair’s box checked out, by the way. She wasn’t very happy about being woken up in the middle of the day to fetch it, but the site of every bomb is listed on the plans inside.”
“Where’s Connell?”
“Preparing Olivier for the interrogation room. He’ll be along shortly. After we’re done with him, Connell and a few of the purplecoats will question him about the explosives. Then we’ll evacuate the compound and disconnect the bombs.”
“If he proves Camille is telling the truth, will you allow her to stay?”
Mòr’s eyes drifted to Kenna. “She’ll stay. Whether she stays in the basement or in a guest cabin is not strictly up to me.”
“I don’t want that woman around my daughter,” Kenna said.
“If Camille loses her best friend and she’s deemed a criminal, what inducement does she have to keep helping?” Lila asked. “She doesn’t have the empire’s hellfire and damnation to keep her in line.”
“I won’t see Cecily under Dr. McCrae’s knife. Do you know what it was like to watch the others—to watch you—being wheeled into the clinic? That’s not going to happen to my baby.”
“I don’t think there’s a chance of that happening with Camille. She’s in love with your daughter whether she admits it or not. She’s also a trained soldier. The safest place for Cecily is by her side, just as the safest place for your sister is beside Connell.”
Kenna pursed her lips. “Camille doesn’t love Cecily. She denied it.”
“You read people far too well to believe that. You want my advice? Put her to the truth serum when she’s healthy, confirm her words, then give her a tranq gun and train her as a bodyguard.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“Kenna, I agree with her,” Mòr said gently.
“I don’t care. She’s not going near my daughter ever again. That’s final.”
“Will you tell her who Camille really is?” Lila asked.
“Yes.”
“Will you tell her all of it?”
Kenna’s expression finally softened. “No. Her heart is not the point.”
Mòr’s boots tapped quietly upon the floor as they waited for Dixon and Connell to join them. “The purplecoat looks good on you, Lila.”
“Someone threw out my gray one. I guess it’s hard to mend a bullet hole and bloodstains.”
“You could keep that one. Connell still wants to offer you a job.”
“Is that so?”
Mòr’s lips twitched. “I told him not to bother. He’d only waste his time. You like hiding too much to let anyone see you, especially the gods. Now that you’re starting to believe in them, you don’t like being on their radar. You find it intrusive. I don’t think you want to linger on our compound if you don’t have to.”
Lila shifted in her chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re always welcome here, even though I know you don’t want to stay.”
The door opened before Lila could respond. Olivier shuffled into the room, his face a swollen mass of red and purple bruises, his steps drawn short by his ankle chains. He glared at Lila as Connell pushed him into the metal chair in the room’s center. “Should have put another bullet in you,” he sneered while Dr. McCrae slipped into the room.
“No, you should have aimed better. Or at least fought better.” Lila snorted. “You’re the only person I’ve ever beaten in a fight, and I was shot while I was punching you. Congratulations on that honor.”
Connell attached Olivier’s ankle chains to the chair legs, then did the same with his wrists and the armrests. “You’re going to answer some questions for us today.”
Olivier spat in Connell’s face.
Connell punched Olivier in the jaw, a dull smack that echoed in the concrete room.
The Italian panted in his chair, turning his chin into his shoulder. “I thought you people in the Allied Lands prided yourselves on being civilized.”
“You’re not in the Allied Lands, asshole. You’re with the oracle children. We follow the old ways. You’re not much a spy if you haven’t figured that out by now.” Connell straightened to his full height and backed to Mòr’s side. “Thanks for the excuse, though. I’ve been looking for a reason to do that since yesterday. I’ll be looking for an excuse to pull my gun after we’re done.”
Olivier narrowed his eyes. “Barbaro.”
“That word doesn’t even begin to describe me.”
Mòr put her hand on Connell’s hip. “Not before we get what we need. Their trials will come after.”
“Trial?” Olivier scoffed.
“Yes. Each of you has been given the truth serum,” Connell explained. “If you’ve confessed to murder or crimes against the oracle, you’ll be poisoned and cremated. I think we already know your fate.”
“I won’t tell you a thing.”
“You won’t have a choice.”
Once he was restrained, Dr. McCrae crouched over the Olivier’s arm and slipped a needle into his vein. Thick red liquid poured into his body. Olivier gasped as it hit his bloodstream. Within minutes, his scowl lifted. His cheeks flushed, and dimples formed in his cheeks. He almost looked beautiful.
Almost.
“Tell us about your mission.”
“Which one?”
Lila and Mòr glanced at one another. Lila had thought the Italians only had one mission in New Bristol, but perhaps Olivier had been given other tasks.
“Tell us about all of them,” Connell ordered.
“Our primary mission was to learn about the oracles. Camille, Achille, and I were sent to infiltrate this compound, to find out if the oracles could actually foretell the future. Camille and Achille found out the old myths were true, but command didn’t believe us. We were given orders to extract a few of your young as proof.”
“How did Camille and Achille feel about that?”
“They disagreed.” He slouched in the metal chair, laying his head on his shoulder like a tired, rambling drunk. “They helped you retrieve your children, didn’t they?”
“No. We didn’t need their help,” Connell said. “What of your other missions?”
“I was to report back on the poorer classes. King Felipe believes they can be turned against the government and the aristocracy.”
“We have no aristocracy,” Lila countered.
“Of course you don’t, Chief Randolph, heir to a family that earns several billion credits a year.” He chuckled as everyone turned to Lila, their expressions locked in concern. “I’m sure the Randolphs keep all that money and power through talent and hard work.”
“If the people wish for a family to fail, they can stop buying their products.”
“The Randolphs don’t sell oil and gas to janitors and teachers, not without lowborn traders in the way. It’s how the highborn stay in power. They’re busy shaking hands with one another, pretending they’ve extended one to the masses, but they don’t have another to spare.”
“What’s your point?” Lila asked.
“My point is that it’s easy to sow unrest in such an atmosphere. Some of your people have already begun doing so. Two organizations, in fact. One is a crowd of discontents far too organized to be declared a mob. I saw them at the warehouse. The other calls themselves the Red Phoenix Army. It’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think?”
“They’re the assholes with the red armbands, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve seen them around the last few months. I meant to look into them further, but…” Lila stopped herself from making excuses. She’d had spies under her control when she first saw the mob at the Wilson estate, some marking themselves with the red fabric. She could have sent someone to investigate then.
She just didn’t.
“Are they organized too?”
“Gloriously so. At least at the top. Most of them don’t understand they’re being led by a new master while they rally against the old.”
“A few discontents do not make a revolution.”
“A few discontents can easily turn into more. Your country does a good job of preventing it, though. It’s a brilliant system. A man eats so long as he works. If he steals because he doesn’t have a job, he becomes a slave. That’s unfortunate, but he gets food and a small amount of pocket money to buy what he wishes. You’ve solved political unrest with bread and circuses, just like my forefathers.”
Lila had heard of the concept before, though she’d never phrased it as such. She’d used money herself to curb domestic violence on the compound while she’d reigned as chief, specifically among the workborn and slaves. If crime and abuse statistics pushed too high, she knew the worker’s salaries and the slave’s stipends hadn’t been going as far as they should. She’d begin the long process of negotiating with her mother for an increase, even though it was a fight every time. The Randolphs already paid better than most other families.
She’d always thought herself right for doing so.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
She wasn’t sure about other things. She and her father had always kept highborn crimes quiet in an attempt to prevent anarchy and chaos.
But Tristan’s words had eaten at her over the last few days.
How much longer did the workborn have to wait?
They saw highborn after highborn charged with lesser crimes, escaping a hangman’s noose while those of their station did not. The same crime she’d keep within the family for a Randolph—so long as it happened on a Randolph property—she’d send along to Bullstow as an arrest if a workborn had done it.
It had seemed right at the time.
“As long as the poor aren’t starving, as long as they have just enough to buy a few trinkets to take their minds off the inequality around them, most of them will never think too deeply or complain too much,” Olivier said. “They have the next game to buy, the next movie to see, the next book to read. But some of your workborn are struggling to pay the circus’s admission. You’re beginning to lose more of them. The puppeteer has turned on the music, and he jiggles the strings and watches his little army dance.”
“Who is the puppeteer?”
“No idea, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re in a position of power. Someone has created a release valve. They spin the nozzle and wait for the discontents to blow off a little steam. All controlled, just like everything in these people’s lives.”
“So are you a fan or a member?”
“Both.” He laughed. “I joined the Red Phoenix Army and the ones who wear the brown coats.”
Dixon pulled off the wall and scribbled on his notepad. Never seen him before. He’s lying.
“What have you done as a member of the Red Phoenix Army?” Lila asked.
“I’ve attended a few meetings and protests. I protested outside your trial, and I protested when Bullstow set you free. It stirred up the group, but they don’t seem to be doing anything about it. Not yet, anyway.”
“And the other group?”
“I heard only rumors at first. I had to get a job at the Holguín winery before they’d take me on. A favor here, a favor there. I guess that’s how—”
“You let them in for a robbery.”
Olivier grinned.
“That wasn’t the only robbery you let them in for. The nitro?”
He laughed. “I had a job at the Weberly compound before the winery. I made myself valuable to their interests.”
Who’s your captain?
“Frank Tully. He’s doesn’t trust me yet. He didn’t even contact me about the warehouse job. My friends died because of that oaf. I’ll kill him for it one day.”
Dixon and Lila breathed easier. “Somehow I doubt you’ll get your chance,” Lila said. “Did Camille know of this other mission?”
“Why would she? She and Achille had one task. I had the others.”
“Tell me about the rest.”
“I was also sent to observe Fort Rose and get a feel for how well armed the capital is.”
“What did you find?” prompted Connell.
“That you train the starving to be killers, that you buy their loyalty with better prospects and the illusion of hope. Our army is better and far less civilized. If we had the same numbers as the Allied Lands, we could have taken you ages ago, regardless of what your oracles see. Our error was in letting you ally. Our error was in allowing you to colonize.”
“You didn’t have a choice. You failed to stop us.”
“Proxy wars,” Olivier spat. “American colonists lobbing rocks against our empire in the south.”
“We pushed deep into that empire. Mexico won their independence with our help. It’s quite a nice buffer zone between… Oh wait, South America broke from you as well, didn’t they?”
“We are allies.”
“Hardly.”
“We share a pope.”
“A pope who counsels peace.”
“When the emperor wishes it.”
“What else have you been tasked to do?” Lila asked.
“Observe the highborn at their games. You do have so many of them.”
“Any I would be interested in?”
“I’m guessing you’d be interested in all of them. Your kind always are.”
Lila narrowed her eyes. He was probably correct, but they didn’t have time to go through all of them that afternoon. “Where’s Achille?”
“Dead. He tried to sweet-talk me after the prison break went awry, but I knew his true purpose. Achille never could lie well, just like that heretic bitch.”
“Camille?”
“I planned to execute her myself before we returned to Italy. I saw it back home, you know. The long glances, the mooning over her girlfriends. I didn’t know how much further this place could corrupt her until after we arrived. Listening to her go on about your gods was bad enough, but watching her fall in love with the enemy, and a female enemy at that? It went too far. I tried to beat it out of her, but it didn’t help. I don’t know why I bothered. It never worked for her parents. Even they knew she had the devil in her.”
Kenna stiffened. “There never was a boyfriend, was there? It was you all along.”
“Don’t make it sound like something it wasn’t. I tried to spare her from an eternity of hellfire. Besides, I know my own strength.”
“That strength put her in the hospital!”
“She put herself in the hospital.”
“You’re blaming her?”
“You’re damn right I am. She jumped from the roof of Achille’s apartment building. She even left a note. She knew she was a sinner, and an unrepentant one at that. Said she didn’t have the energy to deal with it anymore. She told us to turn back from our mission because your gods would conquer us in the end and that we should convert. But God saved her because he knew our cause was just. I told her so, but she tried to do it again. Pills. Twice. We had to find a back-alley doctor to fix that up. Achille never left her alone after that. He told me in the end that she only stopped to save her friend and the prophets. Maybe I should have shot her after I killed Achille, but I thought she still might make herself useful. It doesn’t matter, though. The bitch will die the second I get free. I bet she won’t even fight back. I bet she’ll beg for it.”
Lila saw a blur of pale skin and heard a sharp whack.
A red fist print lingered on Olivier’s cheek.
“Call her a bitch again,” Kenna said, rubbing her hand. “Call her a traitor.”
Olivier rubbed his cheek upon his shoulder. “You’re soft on her, aren’t you? Don’t bother trying to help her. Without Achille and me to look after her, she’ll murder herself within the week. God will send her to hell for that sin and for the sins of her heart, and Lucifer will burn the flesh from her body for all eternity, just as she deserves. She’s always known how her afterlife would play out. If I were her, I wouldn’t be in such a rush to meet the devil, but what can you expect from a stupid, traitorous, demon whore?”
Kenna stood up, grasped Olivier’s armrests, and bent over him. “I’m going to put the poison into you myself. Soon. But before I do, I want you understand that Camille will never harm herself again, do you hear me? If she accepts our gods, then she’ll have to accept her quirks for what they are. And she’ll see that she’s been put exactly where she needs to be.”
“Where is that?”
“Home, you ignorant piece of shit. And by my daughter’s side.”