The City on the Edge
Thirteen

Ronnie had hoped to end the day quietly at home with Lorna and the rest of her family. She’d tell Lorna about Alukorra and they’d have a laugh over the ridiculousness of it all. She’d have a filling dinner that Constance prepared, a refreshing shower with Lorna, and then she’d lay in bed until she finally dozed off into a restful sleep. She certainly didn’t expect the white prison carriage that was waiting outside of their home as she and Lorna came up the road.

The White Guard was lined up outside of the house, rifles and swords clutched in their hands. Ronnie’s eyes narrowed in on the familiar broad frame of Sloan as he watched the house from his place in front of the steps.

Her heart thumped wildly, pushing sweet adrenaline into her veins. Beside her, Lorna gasped, panic tinging the air between them.

Sloan had found them. Somehow, incredibly, Sloan had found where they lived. What was he doing? Hurting her family? Demanding to know where she was? Would he kill everyone in the house, leaving her to come home to bodies and blood instead of smiles and warmth?

There was a scream, guttural and angry and female. One of the guards, a hefty man that towered over everyone else was hauling someone off the porch by their arm as they struggled against him.

“Anya!” Lorna gasped.

The man jerked on Anya’s arm and Ronnie swore she could hear the joint crack in protest of the movement. Her toes barely touched the ground as the man pulled her over to the carriage. Another guard waited with something glittering in her hands- a pair of gold shackles. The guard fastened them around Anya’s wrists and the reaction was instant. Anya deflated where she stood, her legs wobbling, as if the energy had been sucked from her body.

The giant man opened the carriage door and lifted Anya into the air by the chain connecting the shackles. He threw her in unceremoniously, letting her roll and hit the bars on the other side of the carriage with a loud clang that echoed all the way down the street.

The front door banged open and Malik came charging out of the house. He thundered down the front steps, yellow magic blinking around him like alarms, but before he could make it down the small walk to the carriage, Sloan had a sword leveled at his throat. Ronnie watched his lips move but she couldn’t hear what was being said. His words floated on the wind, just quiet enough to be indecipherable. Judging by the way Malik’s face paled, it was as horrendous as could be expected from a man like Tiberius Sloan.

Malik took a step away from Sloan. The captain sheathed his sword and barked out an order to the guardsmen. All at once, they moved in a flurry of pristine white and gold. There were no more shouts, save for Anya’s stream of expletives at every white uniform she could see. It was as if the guards were a machine, each cog doing exactly what was expected.

“They’re coming this way!” Lorna grabbed Ronnie’s arm and tugged her down into the bushes. Ronnie settled over her, shielding her and hoping that her dark shirt would mask the vibrant red of Lorna’s hair, that the bushes would keep them hidden. She really didn’t want another encounter with Sloan.

In a tense moment, the guards rode past on their galloping beasts, pulling the rattling prison carriage behind them on rickety wheels. When it passed by, Ronnie ducked out of the bushes. Anya was pressed against the carriage bars, her face morphing into one of fear as she was taken back into town.

Ronnie caught her eyes and tried without words to convey comfort. To promise that they would come for her, that they wouldn’t leave her to die. Anya raised her hand, a bauble clinking on her bracelet. The Seer.

Lorna stepped forward, clutching her own Seer and nodding at Anya as the distance between them grew. Ronnie peeked at the glass in Lorna’s hand - the smoke was white. Constance wasn’t in danger. Ronnie watched the brigade turn down the dirt road, thankful to have Lorna and her quick wit at her side.

When Anya was gone from sight, Ronnie ran to the house, blood pumping in her veins and calling for action. Malik sat on the front steps with his head in his hands. He looked up as they approached. His eyes were already puffy and red with tiny veins that threatened a force of emotion he wasn’t ready to show.

“They caught her stealing from the depository,” he began without prompting. “They almost got her but she made it home. She was pretty pleased with herself. She had quite the haul. The kids were already planning what they could do with all the money she brought home.” Malik pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. After a few seconds, he continued. “Not an hour later, Sloan was at our door. Someone tailed her home.” He shook his head, furious with himself. “I should have known. But I had her right in front of me, so I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Malik,” Lorna said softly, “what are talking about?”

Malik reached down and dug in his pocket. He pulled out a small glass sphere filled with a red, swirling smoke. His Seer, connected only to Anya. “This. She was in danger and I didn’t even notice. I wasn’t paying attention.” His grip on the sphere tightened and Ronnie feared that it might shatter in his hand. “I have to get her back. They’ll kill her. Or worse.”

“If Sloan catches you,” Constance said from the doorway suddenly, “he’ll kill you.” She looked at the three of them, a frown set deeply on her face. “Hazel wants to see you guys.”

***

Hazel was waiting for them by the window, having watched the entire ordeal from inside. If Malik looked like the world was coming down around him, Hazel appeared as if it had already ended. She looked impossibly small in her chair with the blanket that Constance had knit draped around her shoulders. The wrinkles on her face were more pronounced by the distraught expression on her face. She looked up as Malik entered the room with Ronnie and Lorna behind him.

“Malik,” she raised a thin and withered hand toward him. He wasted no time in taking it gently and bending down on one knee in front of her. “I’m so sorry about Anya, but we can’t just charge in after her in a fit of rage.”

A broken noise escaped his throat. “Hazel, I can’t just leave her there. I can get her back. I’ve seen the hold and the guards. I can work out their patrols. I’m a strong witch.” He held up the hand that wasn’t holding hers and it flared to life in a crackling ball of swirling yellow magic, like lightning contained in the palm of his hand. Ronnie could feel the press of it from her place against the doorjamb. “I know that I can do this. I can bring my sister home.” There was a fire in his voice, a certainty of his own abilities as the swirling ball evaporated.

Hazel tilted her head. “Tiberius Sloan is no fool, Malik. He has not achieved his position as captain of the White Guard by not knowing how to deal with our kind.”

Ronnie watched his entire body tense and his hand tighten around Hazel’s, but she didn’t flinch. She knew he didn’t mean any harm. “If I don’t do something,” he forced out his words, clipped and rock hard, “then I’ll never see her again.” His voice wavered and he nearly choked on his words.

“I’ll go with him,” Ronnie declared suddenly. “He’ll need help. The Cage is crawling with the White Guard.”

Malik looked over his shoulder at her, a grim but relieved smile on his lips. “Thanks Ronnie.” He turned back to Hazel. “I know you don’t want us to go, but-”

“I didn’t say that,” Hazel began. “I said that Sloan is no fool. That we can’t simply rush in after Anya.”

The room was quiet for a beat before Malik spoke again. “You mean, you want us to go after her?”

This time, Hazel squeezed Malik’s hand with all the strength her ancient body could muster. “Even from this old chair, I’ve heard about the terrible things that happen to supernaturals once Sloan has them, especially witches. Anya will not survive whatever tortures he has planned. We cannot leave her with him.”

Malik leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek. “Thank you.”

“So, what do we do, then? Do you have a plan already?” Ronnie asked.

Hazel settled back in her chair, pulled the blanket tighter with a shiver. Constance immediately moved toward her, draping a thick shawl over the blanket. “Not quite, I’m afraid. But I do know that the Cage is only a temporary stop for Anya. Sloan has an interest in witches, though no one is sure why. He moves them from the Cage to his estate at the tracks. They usually aren’t seen again.”

Malik heaved a deep breath, carding his fingers through his hair. “We need to get to her while she’s still in the Cage. Once she’s at the estate, she’s gone. Sloan keeps the White Guard’s elite on the grounds as his personal guards. We’d never get to her.”

“Then we’ll make sure she never makes it further than the Cage,” Lorna said.

Ronnie went to the window and looked out. “The sun is going down, so we’ll at least have some cover.”

Malik nodded, more to himself than the others. He had his hand against his chin, tapping his fingers against his jawline like he always did when he was deep in thought. “The Cage isn’t a large building. Unless they have underground cells, and I don’t think they do, she should be easy to find.”

“How do you plan on getting in?” Constance asked with a worried look at her sister.

When no one answered, Hazel spoke. “You cannot leave without a plan. This course of action requires careful planning. There can be no mistakes. I have no doubt that if any of the guard see you, Sloan will descend like a vulture.”

“The roof,” Malik said suddenly with a light in his eyes, as if a great idea were forming in his mind. “The Cage has a glass ceiling. The humans pride themselves on all of that ridiculous architecture. We could scale the side and enter through the top.”

“You make is sound easy,” Lorna said with a nervous laugh.

Malik gave her a reassuring smile. “I think it will be. I doubt there will be many guards on the roof, if any. The Cage is a temporary prison on the way to the Cavern. They probably don’t get many people trying to break inside. They won’t worry too much about something that they’re sure is protected.” He paused for a second. “Hopefully.”

“That’s reassuring,” Constance mumbled, biting her lip. “If you guys get caught…”

She trailed off, not needing to finish her thought. Everyone in the room knew exactly what happened to those who crossed the White Guard and Tiberius Sloan. Lorna cupped Constance’s face in gentle hands and pressed a chaste kiss against her forehead.

“We’ll be fine. We can’t leave Anya there.”

“But,” Constance shook her head. “What happens if you do get her? If you bring her back here, won’t Sloan just come looking again?”

A burst of yellow flashed around Malik. Everyone jumped, startled by the outburst. “Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean that. It’s just…” He broke off with a heavy sigh and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I just can’t believe we’re wondering if saving my sister is worth the risk. You know she’d do the same for any one of you.”

“It’s isn’t that,” Constance defended. “You know I care about Anya. But the risk is there, you can’t deny it Malik.”

“We’ll keep her somewhere else if we have to,” Ronnie butted in. “I remember the Cage. I’ve been there before when they were looking for my father. They took me there for questioning.”

Lorna raised a brow at her. “Seriously? Weren’t you four?”

Ronnie shrugged. “I was the only one left after the fire. The point is, Malik is right. The Cage has a glass dome. It’s held up by rafters. I remember watching the silks while I was sitting there.”

“I don’t suppose you remember what it looked like inside while you were silk-watching?” Malik asked with the look he always gave her when she did something stupid.

She shook her head. “Sorry. It’s been years and I was kind of distracted at the time.” My mother was burned alive, she wanted to retort, but it wasn’t the time for such pettiness.

“Come here, Veronica.” Hazel beckoned her over. “Sit down. There.”

Ronnie did as she was asked and took a seat on her knees in front of the rocking chair. Hazel leaned forward with the creak of old age and slid her warm wrinkled hands over Ronnie’s hair. She trailed two fingers down her forehead until they rested just below her brows, each finger hovering over her eyes.

This was something Ronnie had never seen before. “What are doing?” she asked.

“I’m going to look and see what you remember. I can sort through the sights your eyes have witnessed and stored. I’ll be able to view whatever you’ve seen.”

“Everything?” Ronnie couldn’t keep the hesitation out of her voice.

Hazel drew back to peer down at her. Concern crinkled around her eyes. “Is something wrong?”

Only everything I haven’t told you.

Ronnie thought over everything that had happened in the last few days. Sebastian. Poor Street. Alukorra and her band of revolutionists. Things that she hadn’t mentioned to Hazel and the family yet. Even further back, Ronnie’s mind trailed over the intimate moments that she’d shared with Lorna. Nights when her nightmares would wake her up in cold sweats, desperate for comfort and Lorna would be there, warm and red, to soothe her back to sleep with gentle kisses and gentler touches. And like a drop of ink in a glass of water, a picture of her burned family home flared up to dash that sweetness away.

“It’s just,” she began, “there are some things that I would like to keep private.”

“Seriously, Ronnie?” Malik huffed like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Anya was taken by the White Guard and she could already be on her way to Sloan, who for all we know, wants to string her up and bleed her dry. You’ve been inside the Cage where she’s being held and all you can think about is how you want to keep things private?” His voice had raised steadily in pitch as he spoke until he was nearly shouting. “This is about Anya.”

“Malik!” Hazel shushed him with a firm glare. “Veronica has a right to her private thoughts.”

“No, it’s okay. He’s right. Anya’s safety is at stake. Do what you need to do.” Hazel leaned forward and Ronnie caught her fingers carefully in her hand. “Just…please don’t be disappointed by what you see.”

Hazel nodded slowly and Ronnie could see the questions in her tired eyes. At the press of Hazel’s fingers, Ronnie closed her eyes. Images began to flutter across her lids like she were rapidly flipping through the pages of a book. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected but it seemed as if Hazel was scanning through everything backwards.

There was a quick shot of violet and red and shadow as a fairy asked for her help while a vampire stood under a shaft of light that should have left him a pile of ashes. It shifted suddenly to gold and eyes like the blue sky, looking at her over a kind smile. I like you. Something pulled in Ronnie’s chest at the memory, something she’d felt before but couldn’t place. Ronnie raised her hands to her face and buried her nose in sweet white flowers that she pretended she didn’t want. I like you, too.

Hazel dug deeper. The flowers fell from Ronnie’s hands and seeped through the ground as it opened and swallowed her whole. It felt like the witch’s fingers were sliding coolly right through Ronnie’s head, even though she knew that they were still pressed to her skin. Ronnie tumbled through a tunnel of darkness. Drops of light exploded before her eyes like she were standing outside in the middle of a snowstorm.

Not snow. Fireflies.

They landed on her briefly before fluttering away, leaving a trail of light arcing through the air. Lorna was in front of her, hands clasped around claws, and she leaned forward, pressing her lips to Ronnie’s. They were young here and not even sure what a kiss was, but knew that they wanted it. It had meant so much to Lorna. The sky over them clapped with thunder as guilt broiled in Ronnie’s gut. Feelings she can’t return.

In a rush of stiff wind, Lorna and the fireflies were blown away like flecks of paint off a canvas. Behind their pretty picture was a smoldering husk of charred poles and blackened windows. Plumes of thick gray smoke rose like angry snakes into the night sky, ready to devour the lingering stars of dawn. She stared down at her hands- the small hands of child.

Smears of white passed her and took form. The White Guard, with strangely cut uniforms, untouched by the disaster and still so clean in their white and silver. One came to stand in front of her. A young lieutenant with slick white-gold hair and eyes so cold they could cut her skin.

“Where is Taven?” His voice swirled around her like a thick fog. She struggled to make out his words. “Where is your father, girl?”

Ronnie could only shake her head. Another tall man joined him. A thick beard the color of sunlight hung from his chin. “Any progress, Lieutenant Sloan?”

“She won’t speak, sir.”

“Is she one of them?”

“Yes. We confirmed it.”

The bearded man spoke again but his words were lost as Ronnie’s focus moved behind them, where two guards were hauling out a corpse, black and stiff. Skin flaked off in the evening breeze, carried off to settle on the ashes. There was nothing left but white teeth exposed under shriveled lips.

“Mother…”

The world changed again.

“Lift your feet, girl,” a sharp voice commanded as Ronnie fell forward on marble steps.

She caught herself, straightened up, and followed behind the swarm of white coats. The Cage wasn’t large, or at least it seemed that way at first. The inside was sectioned off in cubes that held narrow tables and more white coats lined along the sides, disappearing into the white stone walls as they stood completely still. Behind all the cubes, at the very back, was a set of black doors. Two guardsmen stood in front of them, rifles in hand. The doors captured Ronnie’s attention. They were a thundercloud against a beautiful spring sky. The only hint of the what they hid was a window above them, shaped like a blinking eye.

A forceful hand pushed her into a cube and the doors disappeared from sight. Ronnie sat in a chair while white coats came and went and blurred with the passage of time. Questions were asked that she didn’t answer.

A whistling tune broke through the chaos and Ronnie looked up. In the criss cross of thick metal beams were winged demons, silks, and they were blue, green, white and so very pretty. They were like colored gems dancing in front of the sunlight that illuminated the glass dome. Ronnie closed her eyes and listened to them sing.

There was a jolt, a fierce tug and Ronnie was suddenly falling face first into a soft blanket. Hazel’s blanket. Malik was speaking, Ronnie could hear his voice, but her mind wasn’t ready to process his words. A gentle hand stroked her back.

“Easy now. You’ll feel a little out of sorts for a bit.” Hazel’s voice cut through the fog and Ronnie eased herself back, steadying herself with a hand on the cool floor.

“Well, did she remember the Cage or not?”

“Yes,” Ronnie spoke up while she pressed a hand to her head, willing herself into coherency again. “I remember the Cage. There’s a set of doors that lead back to the holding cells. It’ll be guarded.”

“Then, how do we get to Anya?” Doubt was creeping into Lorna’s voice.

“Like Malik said. We’ll come in through the roof. There are rafters all over the ceiling. We’ll take those back to the cells, get Anya and come back out the way we came.”

“I hope it’s as easy as you make it sound.”

“Easy or not, we have a plan,” Malik said. “Grab your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Malik tromped out of the room, stomping loudly up the stairs. Lorna hesitated for a moment, unsure of what action she was supposed to be taking, before she shrugged and followed him upstairs. Ronnie supposed having a few extra tools wouldn’t hurt. It was less magical strain on the two of them.

“Veronica.” The somber tone wasn’t one Ronnie was used to hearing in Hazel’s voice. “When this is all over, we need to talk about what I saw in your mind.”

Ronnie looked up at her from her place on the floor. She couldn’t quite understand the expression on Hazel’s face. It was concern, fear, anger and accusation all swirled into one.

Is she angry at me?

Was there a specific memory that she was referring to? Though Ronnie didn’t exactly want to share the moments she shared with Lorna, they were no secret from the family. Could it be Sebastian and his misplaced kindness and affection for her? Or the fairy Alukorra and Jack the vampire that didn’t burn?

Hazel must have seen the panic on her face because her expression softened. “I’m not angry at you. But, I feel there are a few things that need explained.”

“Okay.”

Ronnie was saved from having to say anything else when Malik and Lorna came back downstairs. He had a leather pack strapped across his chest.

“Are you ready?” he asked. When Ronnie nodded, he tightened the strap. “Good. Let’s go get my sister.”

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