The Arrivals

Chapter 21

An hour after their encounter with the Stinging Blight, Kitty was with Jack, Edgar, and Chloe walking down yet another street. They hadn’t seen any other monks or Ajani, and she suspected the other half of their group hadn’t either. Uncharitably, she wished she felt like she could trust Chloe enough to support Jack, so they could split into three groups instead of two. Until she was sure of the new woman, though, they’d work this way. The combined stresses of everything were making her irritable enough that Jack and Chloe probably wished they had split into separate groups.

“Maybe Garuda lied,” Kitty suggested.

Jack spared her a look that spoke volumes. Common knowledge in the Wasteland was that the bloedzuigers didn’t lie; it would violate their ridiculously detailed codes of etiquette. She and her brother had argued the matter often enough. He believed that etiquette prevented bloedzuigers from lying, but rules—especially rules of behavior—weren’t reason enough for her to accept the notion that they couldn’t lie. Rules were broken all the time, and Kitty simply didn’t trust the monsters.

“Sometimes I swear you’d believe Garuda no matter what he said,” she stated—as much for Jack’s sake as for Garuda’s. “I swallowed the nasty Verrot, which I hate, because the bony bastard said Ajani was around.”

Inside her head, she heard the bloedzuiger laugh.

“I told Jackson that the brethren have a benefactor,” Garuda said.

His voice always felt like cornhusks rubbing together in her mind.

“Cornhusks?” he prompted. “What is that?”

Clearly, she wasn’t concentrating on keeping her thoughts sorted into private and bloedzuiger-accessible. Over time, she’d gotten much better at erecting shields in her mind to keep Garuda from rummaging about in there, but despite her progress, she still felt her mental shields slip sometimes. If she hadn’t had to drink Verrot, she’d not have to deal with this.

“You should tell Jackson about your skills,” Garuda said.

Kitty shook her head. Her gaze went to Jack and Chloe, who were speaking in low voices. Whatever she did or didn’t do was her own business, not Garuda’s. She took a deep breath, calming herself, focusing. Then she stopped walking and put a hand on Edgar’s biceps. “Hold on.”

“I have never told Jackson about our little tête-à-têtes,” Garuda said. “You might not think me honorable, Katherine, but I’ve obeyed your request.”

Edgar gave her a curious look, but he stilled beside her all the same. Jack and Chloe were several steps away.

Carefully, Kitty envisioned Garuda and then began visualizing building a wall in front of him, a fortress of sorts that looked like it was made of heavy stones stacked atop one the other. When she reached his chin, she looked at him. He smiled at her, and she realized that he’d let her see him. She ignored the urge to look at his surroundings, forcing herself to stay focused on her task instead.

She tried to lift another mental stone to block his now-grinning face and staring eyes.

“You get better and better at this, Katherine.”

“Kit?” Edgar had an arm around her waist. “Are you injured?”

“You won’t be able to lift that one,” Garuda chided. “Not unless you’re even more a rarity than I know.”

“Fuck you.”

“What?” Edgar slipped around in front of her, keeping his arm at her waist. He stared into her face, seeking some answer.

Kitty hissed, sounding even to her own ears too much like one of the monsters, and said, “I wasn’t talking to you.”

Garuda’s pleased laughter filled her head. “I find it pleasing that you have made so much progress, Katherine. Almost no one in the Wasteland can do this.”

“Just bloedzuigers and me,” she half asked, half said.

The old bloedzuiger didn’t reply.

“Garuda? Did I block you?”

“No.”

Kitty realized that Jack and Chloe were staring at her, and Edgar looked at her with a dawning awareness. She couldn’t let her conversation with Garuda end just then. Hurriedly, she repeated her reply, this time clearly as a question, “So just me and the bloedzuigers?”

“That is what you said.” This time Garuda’s voice was guarded, which was telling. Kitty frowned. His evasiveness revealed a new truth: there was at least one other person or creature like her, and Garuda wasn’t interested in telling her who or what.

“Katherine?” Jack turned and looked at her. “Did you want to split up?”

In the street beside her, Edgar spoke in a voice too low for Jack to hear. “Unless you say otherwise, I think we ought to stay with Jack.”

“Your mate is right.”

Although Edgar was not her mate or spouse or any such thing, bloedzuigers didn’t understand partnership. At least, that was the answer Kitty clung to for not correcting Garuda. The alternative was admitting that she couldn’t lie to the bloedzuiger inside her head.

“No.” Kitty paused. There were too many individual conversations happening. “No, Jack. Yes, Edgar.” In her head, she added, “You need to stop talking to me. I have to focus.”

She stepped away from Edgar, and in a moment she’d caught up to Chloe and Jack. Edgar kept pace with her, and a hasty glance at his expression made it abundantly clear to her that they would need to deal with the problem of her keeping this secret from Jack sooner than she’d like. It seemed increasingly impossible that her secret could stay hidden.

“Sorry, Jack. I thought I saw—”

Garuda interrupted, “One of the newborns says two monks are out creeping up on the rest of your pack. He can see them from his shelter. Fell Road. Near the bakery.”

“Monks,” she said.

“I have told the newborn to assist them.”

“Where?” Jack looked around.

“Fell Road.” Kitty took off running.

Edgar didn’t hesitate to follow her. However, when Kitty looked back, her brother shot her a look that said there would be questions later, but he and Chloe followed as well.

When they reached the others, Hector was trying to get past a monk who appeared to be as competent with knives as he was. Both he and the monk were bleeding from several wounds. Melody was being held by two other monks. Her shotgun was on the ground beside her, but with two captors, she wasn’t having much success at getting to it. Her tidy twist hung lopsidedly from the back of her head, and her face was snarled in rage as she shouted orders.

Francis was trying to respond to the garbled commands Melody called out, but he was struggling. Both sides of his face were red with his blood, and he had a ripped piece of his shirt tied over the left side of his head, covering his eye. He turned, and Kitty could see that his uncovered eye was bleeding too.

“Chloe, help Francis,” Jack called. “One of you, check for others.”

“I’ll take Hector,” Kitty told Edgar.

The division took mere moments, as if the words and actions were simultaneous, but even those few moments felt too slow. Their entanglement with the brethren had already led to one permanent death. Kitty couldn’t bear the thought of the monks killing another of the Arrivals.

“The brethren aren’t what caused her death.”

Garuda’s words startled Kitty. For a brief moment she’d almost forgotten that he was in her head, and she’d definitely forgotten to keep her shields in place. This time, however, she didn’t regret it. There were hidden meanings in the old bloedzuiger’s words, implications in the things unsaid that she wanted to ponder—just not when they were in the midst of an attack.

“Later, you need to explain that. I don’t want to get shot because you’re talking,” she told him as she continued toward Hector while searching the windows and doorways of the buildings that surrounded their location for other enemies.

This time Garuda remained silent, a fact for which she was grateful.

Like they did in most altercations in Gallows, the locals stayed away. The Arrivals were useful for solving a quarrel, caging a demon, or taking out monks, but they weren’t accepted by the Wastelanders—and they certainly weren’t helped. A familiar bitterness bubbled up in Kitty, but she did her best to squelch it.

The monk facing Hector retreated when he saw Kitty coming, and she had an unpleasant moment of having to decide between helping Hector and pursuing the monk.

“I’m good,” Hector said, even as he swayed a little on his feet. “He’s almost as hurt as I am.”

She had to trust his judgment. After a quick glance to see if anyone else needed backup, she took off after the monk. He darted around a corner, his robes tangling around his legs as he tried to turn quickly, and Kitty was certain that she had him.

But then Melody screamed, “Jack! Down!”

Everything in Kitty’s world skidded to a halt at the sound of those two syllables. She spun around and ran back to where Hector still leaned against a wall. As she lifted her gun, she saw Jack drop, and Chloe—who was kneeling on one side of Francis while Melody knelt on the other—calmly and cleanly emptied every chamber into the monk who’d had his gun trained on Kitty’s brother.

The monk fell, his gray robes flooding red.

Simultaneously, Jack fell backward. It was his shoulder that bled, though, not his chest. Melody stayed with Francis, who was trying to get to his gun despite Melody telling him, “He’s fine, Francis! Stay still.”

“I can still shoot even if I can’t see,” Francis insisted. “Just tell me where to aim.”

“No!” Melody slapped his hand away from his gun. “Jack’s fine. Everyone’s just fine, Francis! Behave yourself.”

By the time Kitty could reach Jack, Chloe was at his side. With a resolve that unnerved Kitty as much as it assured her, the recently arrived woman tore Jack’s shirt open to examine the wound.

“Clean through,” she said as Kitty joined them.

“Stop.” Jack tried to push himself to his feet, using his good arm for leverage. He glanced up at Kitty and snapped, “Damn it, Katherine! If you’re going to stand there, you could at least help me up.”

Kitty couldn’t bring herself to mind his surliness. She crouched down. He put an arm around her shoulders, and in a moment they were standing.

He’s alive. He’s not dead. He’s just a little hurt, she told herself. He’s not dead.

Already, Kitty could see that Chloe was right: the injury wasn’t severe, and with the Verrot in his system and the odd healing powers that the siblings shared, Jack would be fine. No doubt it still hurt like a bitch, but pain alone wouldn’t kill a person.

“Where’s Edgar?” Jack asked.

The fear she’d felt at hearing Melody scream Jack’s name flashed over her again, but before it could settle in her bones, she saw Edgar coming toward them. Her gaze swept him from toe to top, and when she met his eyes, he was doing the same to her. She let out a breath in relief.

“No survivors,” Edgar said as he approached. “I got the one that was running from Kit.”

“I can’t see out of either eye now. Someone care to tell me what’s happening?” Francis snapped in an uncharacteristically angry tone.

With more effort than she’d have liked, Kitty pulled her gaze from Edgar. “We’re all fine, Francis. Jack’s got a flesh wound. Hector’s a little worse for wear.”

“And I hardly got to kill anyone,” Melody complained.

“Sorry, Melly.” Hector limped over to Melody and Francis. “You shot a monk when we arrived.”

“True!” Melody perked up. “Who wants to grab a drink?”

Chloe frowned at her. “Jack’s shot. Francis”—she gestured in his general direction—“is blind, and you want to—”

“I’m not traipsing across the desert right now, Jack,” Melody interrupted, pointedly turning away from Chloe. “I was up early, hiked out here in the heat, dealt with Blight and monks. I’m going to a tavern.”

For a moment the guise of sweetness that Melody tried to wear slipped so obviously that Kitty remembered again why she wouldn’t share quarters with the humming woman: she was unstable and mean.

Melody glared in turn at Chloe, Kitty, and Jack, but she wasn’t fool enough to glare at Edgar. The last time she’d gotten too confrontational, he’d lost his temper. Jack had made him promise not to shoot her again, but Melody didn’t know that.

Hector draped an arm over her shoulder. “The monks are dead or gone. A break wouldn’t hurt.”

“My newborns can watch,” Garuda said. “If you want to tell Jackson, he’ll feel better.”

Quietly, Kitty told her brother, “Let them go. Hector will keep an eye on her. We’ll catch up in a minute.” In a split instant, she made a decision she’d avoided for years. Maybe she was being silly, but seeing her brother bleeding—even from such a tiny injury—made her want to do anything she could to ease his worries. She whispered, “Garuda says his newborns will keep watch from the shadows. He’ll . . . let me know if there are any monks—”

“Or Ajani,” Garuda interrupted.

“If there are monks or Ajani nearby,” she finished, still in a whisper.

Jack turned his head to stare at her, and she met his gaze without squirming much. They were both silent, but the next move was his, so she waited.

“Jack?” Hector prompted.

“Go to the Gulch House. We’ll be there soon. ” Jack glanced at Chloe and said tersely, “Go with them. Keep Francis safe.”

Once they’d all left, he stepped back from his sister and asked, “Now, how exactly will Garuda tell you?”