NOVEL NEXT Chapter 89: Choices Made
Hours passed in a blur of smoke, shouting, and sloughing, pink flesh. Kess dragged man after man out of the burning building, sometimes losing her grip on skin that was no longer there. A fair number of men were hobbled by her staff, their limbs twisted at odd angles.
They screamed as she dragged them out.
Their screams echoed in her mind, twisting and molding to mingle with her parents and the Councilmen. Sometimes, as she dragged men out with particularly brutal injuries, she screamed alongside them, sobbing.
At some point, Kess thought she saw Rowan in the mess, though she could barely see straight anymore. Eamon showed up with a group of Forgebrand men tied to the manor, and they began to cart the dead and living both back to one of the warehouses near the manor.
Building finally empty, Kess stumbled her way home to more chaos. Men and women whispered from underneath awnings near the manor, taking what shelter they could from the storm. Some of them shot her dirty looks or rude gestures. A few simply looked sad.
The main entrance was chaotic as Kess had ever seen it, with people running back and forth throughout the entryway. Boys and girls carried cloths and steaming bowls of water, and men and women carried the worst men from the garrison—some barely breathing. There were burns on those men, but plenty of marks from her staff as well.
Her memories were hazy. She remembered the sounds of living men, but she was so sure she'd killed many of them. She remembered that at least—or so she thought.
She pushed past a group of boys and made her way towards Arlette's office. Kess flung open the door and was rewarded with Arlette, her hair mussed and her eyes dark. Kess flung the crumpled wad of wet, bloody documents onto Arlette's desk. The woman barely flinched.
"Redring garrison is gone," Kess said, her voice hoarse from smoke. The older woman opened the bloodied pile and thumbed through it as Kess spoke. "They signed a deal with Forgebrand months ago. They've been ferrying Fulminancers to the Uphill, and they had the manor on display in a briefing when I showed up."
Arlette studied the documents for a moment longer, eyes unfocused. "Rowan's lights there blew."
"I'm aware. Where's Rae?"
Arlette shook her head. "We haven't heard anything from her. Rowan's worried she might have run into some trouble, given that it was her Fulminancy powering those lights."
Dimly, Kess remembered that sense of dread she'd felt just before Redring had blown—and oddly, a sense of Rae.
"In any case," Arlette continued, "at least this gives us something to tell the mob."
"Mob?" Kess asked, frowning. Arlette fluttered through a few more pages.
"Those people outside—they're families of the victims. Between you and Rowan, half the garrison is injured or dead—we're not sure how much of each. I was hoping your attack would convince them that they could wait to raid the manor, but it also appears that I underestimated the ties those men had to the lower city—the Downhill isn't convinced that we were the heroes here."
Kess clenched her hand until it bled again, fighting the urge to launch herself at Arlette. "It was Redring District," she said incredulously. "That's practically the Uphill itself. It was a Fulminant garrison, and they'd just gotten done raping my friend's sister. They were the enemy."
"Regardless, we've lost the will of the people for now—though this should help." Arlette waggled the papers in the air. "We can frame it as a rescue operation that went wrong."
"Why would anyone support them?" Kess whispered. "They beat and rape Downhill women," she said, pointing to the upper city. "That very garrison hauls their own off to be sold as slaves to the people up there. They abuse their powers and use them to bully their way into free meals in every Downhill ring in the city. I've seen entire taverns close down because Witchblade patrols don't want to pay for a damn bowl of stew. In what world are they not the enemy?"
Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.
Her hands shook, but she didn't wait for a response. She ran out of the room, slamming the door behind her, and shoved past people directly to Claire's ward. Every bed was filled. Men here hadn't escaped the flames or Kess's staff, and charred flesh sat alongside caved in chests and warped faces.
Kess hadn't been as lucky as she'd hoped. She leaned against the doorway, her own breathing coming in sharp rasps. She had meant to do this—intended to do it, even. The men were traitors—rapists, abusers, and worse.
"Kess, I need your help," Claire called from across the room, disheveled and covered in blood. "I don't care what hand you had in it." She pointed to a man whose chest was partially caved in. "If you put your hands on him and channel your Fulminancy, I can direct it." She shook her head. "I'm already almost dry. Many of these men won't live without it."
Kess shook her head, slowly, backing away from the room. "I'll kill them," she whispered, still feeling that snarling touch of her Fulminancy inside. Why wasn't it gone? Why wasn't she drained? She couldn't be here any longer.
She didn't make it through the door before Claire slammed her into the wall with surprising strength, her hazel eyes blazing.
"Do you think I haven't thought of that?" she demanded, voice cracking. "Do you know how many clouding years I've spent trying to figure out a way to make your kind of Fulminancy good for anything that isn't killing? Do you know how many men and women I've seen charred to death by their own powers, or murdered by Witchblades and untrained family members alike?"
"I—"
"Kess, I might have figured out something with these books. Something that can make up for all the killing and death. I might have something here and I'll be damned if you slip off to die in a corner somewhere." She shook Kess a little. "Help me, Kess."
Kess couldn't tear her eyes away from the men, bleeding and dying just feet away from her. It hadn't bothered her in the garrison. Why did it bother her now? She was frozen, unable to think or breathe.
Claire raised her hand and slapped Kess, the sharp crack echoing throughout the room. Kess let her do it, but the pain finally allowed her to tear her eyes away from the men to meet Claire's eyes. They softened as she lowered her hand, looking slightly guilty.
"I can't do it," Kess whispered. "I never want to touch them again. I—"
"Kess," Claire said, gripping her shoulder gently. "I don't know why you were given these powers. It's not my business to meddle in the affairs of gods, founders, Seats, and all that mess. But you were put here with this for some reason. Don't let it go to waste."
"I'm a monster."
"Maybe you are," Claire said, looking behind her at the men. "But I've seen a lot of monsters in my work, Kess. Do you know what the worst one of them all is?"
Kess shook her head.
"Guilt."
Claire left to tend to the men, a faint green glow following her around the room.
Kess stood there a moment longer, feeling sick. Her eyes caught a locket in a soldier's hand, partially open. Two grinning children peered out from it with what was presumably his wife.
Kess stared, and her heart cracked into a thousand pieces. She hadn't known these men. She hadn't known their families, their friends, their reasons for being in that garrison. Perhaps some of them hadn't even known about Wyatt's sister. In her desire to make things right, she'd destroyed wantonly, without nuance. Her Fulminancy and the storm had been a haze, a force driving her forward. But underneath it all, Kess had chosen.
Faleas and Fanas, I've been such a fool.
Draven had tried to warn her all those months ago.
Kess had known what darkness lurked underneath, and yet it wasn't her Fulminancy that drove her to murder these men—it was revenge. I told myself that I had washed my hands of it all, but I never forgave them, she thought. I never left that room in the palace.
Kess took a shuddering breath as the storm rattled the windows overhead, the moans of dying men and her own broken soul her only company. Then, as if from far away, she felt herself stumble towards them.
Claire took every bit of Fulminancy Kess offered. She wordlessly guided Kess between men, eventually working her way out to the warehouses, where more gathered—these less serious than the men in the ward.
It began the longest night of her life. Kess hadn't killed as many as she thought, because men appeared all throughout the night, their bodies torn, broken, and crushed by Kess's staff and her Fulminancy. Still others sported vicious burns from the fire. Some, like Kess, were short of breath and hoarse from the smoke.
Kess felt the tug deep in her bones that signaled she risked something great by continuing. She said nothing to Claire.
Let her die among the very men she'd set out to slay. Let her die a monster, no better than the Council, no better than the storm outside. She would rather die than face her Fulminancy again. She did not want to face Rowan again, or Niall.
She could not face her brother again, knowing what she'd done.
Kess had made her choice.
So she kept going until she knew no more.