Reign of Outlaws Read online

  “Here?” Robyn said. “Why here? There’s nothing here.”

  Key raised one shoulder. “They must have figured out people are using Sherwood Alley to avoid passing through the checkpoints at Briar and Cross.”

  “I use Sherwood Alley,” Robyn grumbled. “How am I supposed to get out of here now?”

  “You know how.”

  She did, and she didn’t like it. Key’s favorite route out of the old church was what they called “the back way,” which involved exiting the church through the alley fire escape and climbing across the Dumpsters that served the storefronts on the next block.

  “Anyway, we can’t go out now.”

  “Why not? We need a grocery run.”

  “We have a rebellion to plan, remember?” Key said. “Everyone will be here soon.”

  Robyn’s stomach swooped a bit at the thought of facing Chazz again.

  “Maybe I should just turn myself in,” Robyn mused. “If I learned anything last night, it’s that the rebellion is already much bigger and stronger without me.” She glanced at Key. “You said so yourself.”

  Key’s expression twisted in sorrow. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “We can’t save my parents otherwise, can we? We never could.” It felt suddenly so obvious and true. That thing she had carried, the relentless bubble of hope inside her, began to fizzle.

  “You’re always talking about the big picture,” she reminded him. “Trade me for them. They can do more to help. It makes sense.”

  “Never,” Key said. “We never surrender.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Breakfast with Crown

  Merryan Crown entered the formal dining room and found her uncle waiting for her.

  “Good morning, Merryan, dear.”

  “Morning.” She pulled out her regular chair and scooted in to meet the omelette and fruit that were waiting for her.

  It was unusual for her uncle to join her for breakfast. Occasionally they shared a dinner, but those occasions had grown increasingly rare since they’d moved into the governor’s mansion. Merryan now had her own suite of rooms. She missed the old house, which was modest by Castle District terms, but still quite large for just the two of them.

  He sat across the table now, coolly sipping a mug of coffee. Unsure of how to break the ice, Merryan salted her eggs and began eating.

  “How are you this morning?” he asked.

  Uncle Iggy had never been especially warm. She knew from the first days after the funeral that he had taken her in out of obligation, or appearances—some sense of propriety that lingered deep within him. Loyalty, maybe. To her father, his brother. Though, given his recent actions around the city, that seemed less likely. Her uncle seemed now to have stripped himself of all kindness and compassion.

  Yet here he was, attempting some kind of connection.

  “I’m okay,” Merryan answered. “Still a little upset over yesterday.”

  His timing was suspect. Her role in letting Robyn into the mansion had not gone unnoticed. No way he decided separately to talk to her today.

  She felt on display. Since he took her in, Merryan had worked hard to become someone who pleased her uncle. Someone whose presence was barely noticeable. She couldn’t bear to be sent away. Yet, it was also very hard to be with him, to feel the pressure of living up to his exact standards.

  Now, everything was turned upside down. Merryan had risked everything. She drew a deep breath, reminding herself that others, like Robyn, had already lost everything.

  “I’ve not done right by you,” her uncle said.

  “Oh—” she started to protest.

  He stopped her. “Hear me out. You’ve lost so much, and I haven’t always been there.”

  “Uncle Iggy …”

  “I’d like us to do more things together.”

  Maybe he thought he was fooling her. Maybe he thought she couldn’t see the truth: that he’d be watching her. Maybe she ignored those things, because a small part of her, deep down underneath, had been hoping someday he would say this.

  “I’d like that,” she answered, pouring love and hope into her voice. The part of her that wanted to believe … But the rest of her knew better. He wanted to keep an eye on her? She wanted to keep an eye on him, too.

  Her uncle’s face softened just a smidge. Just enough for her to believe the door had finally cracked open. Merryan’s usefulness to Robyn and her friends hinged on her access to her uncle. If she could get closer to him, maybe there was hope that he could learn to be kind. Maybe he didn’t have to be ruined. Maybe he could be saved.

  “What are you thinking, my dear?” her uncle asked softly.

  Merryan considered her words carefully. “I’m thinking about kindness,” she said finally. “It’s not easy to make someone feel better after they’ve made a big mistake. You’re being kind, Uncle Iggy, and that helps me.”

  His expression was something between a smile and a smirk. “I’m not often accused of kindness, you know.”

  “People deserve second chances, don’t you think?”

  “In certain circumstances, I suppose.” He mused for a moment. “But certainly not for these supposed friends who have used you so unkindly themselves. The risk of kindness is being taken advantage of, you see.”

  “Yes, I see.”

  “Good.”

  “I could sense that I was helping them in a way I didn’t understand, but I thought that was a good thing,” Merryan said. “I like helping. I can often see people’s pain.” She stopped short of adding, it’s hard to look at you sometimes.

  “You have my brother’s eyes. My brother’s heart.” Her uncle reached across the table and cupped her cheek with his cool fingers. The touch was both welcome and unwelcome at once.

  “I think Dad would want me to take care of you, too. For us to take care of each other.” She meant it, from her heart. She could never erase the care she felt for Uncle Iggy. Or the guilt of working behind his back for the good of them all.

  “Pain paves the way to greatness, my dear,” he said. “You and I will have everything.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Laurel on the Run

  Laurel Dayle raced through the manicured gardens of the governor’s mansion.

  Exit.

  Exit. There had to be one somewhere.

  The fence around this part of the property was impossible to scale. The tall wood planks pressed against each other with the tightest of seams. Eight feet up, their tops came to points that stabbed upward.

  Laurel pushed on every board, testing for weak spots. I’m small, she reminded herself. You can get out of anywhere when you’re small.

  The yard was crawling with guards. Hearing voices again, Laurel ducked toward a set of sculpted bushes. She got down on her hands and knees and scurried into the space between them.

  Boots thumped past.

  Laurel scrambled out the other side of the bushes. It was no longer so dark. There were only so many places to hide. She moved from bush to bush, away from the fence and toward the mansion. It might be the only way out.

  She skirted along the edge of the stone wall, avoiding doorways. She found a long garage door, through which she could see rows of parked motor-pool vehicles.

  Where there were cars, there had to be an exit. Laurel slipped through the door and crept along the row of parked limousines. Some appeared to be unlocked. Maybe she could hide in one, and then escape later, when it was off the property. If she was lucky enough not to be spotted in the meantime.

  She continued toward the big garage door. One was open to the driveway, spilling in light from the outside.

  The garage was not empty. Two men stood near the door that must lead into the mansion.

  “We’ve had a break-in. The standards are no longer acceptable.” The gruff, slightly balding man seemed to be in charge.

  “Yes, Mr. Shiffley.”

  “Full motorcade security protocols,” Shiffley ordered. “The girl is not to be let out of you
r sight. Am I clear?”

  “Three guards, plus the driver.”

  “Bulletproof glass.”

  “That sounds reasonable,” Shiffley agreed.

  “For the short distance between here and the school, this is more than enough protection. No one will be able to touch her,” the guard assured him.

  “It is equally important that she not be able to get out,” Shiffley said. “Miss Crown has proven to be a … weak spot.”

  “Understood.” The security guard pointed to his PalmTab. “Windows and doors controlled from here. For the full motorcade.”

  Laurel flinched as the car door locked and unlocked beside her ear. The windows scrolled up and down with the touch of the guard’s fingers across his palm.

  “Very good,” Shiffley said. “Carry on.”

  Whew. Laurel felt lucky for hearing that. A ride out by hiding in the cars would be out of the question. She could too easily be trapped.

  The men went back inside.

  A few moments later, the door opened again. “Have a good day, Miss Crown,” a voice said from within the mansion. Merryan stepped out. Laurel resisted the temptation to run toward her and hug her as hard as she could. She crouched lower behind the car.

  “Thank you,” Merryan said. She released her backpack from one shoulder and slid into the backseat.

  Laurel poked her head up and peered through the glass. Merryan’s eyes widened. She reached for the door handle. A reflex. But when she tugged, the door was locked from the inside.

  Laurel faced a split-second choice. Wait all day until Merryan came home, and hope to get help from her. Or make a break for it.

  Merryan’s worried face in the rear window made the decision for her. As the limo rolled out, Laurel ran along behind it. She bent forward, keeping her head below the windows.

  The guard in his hut pressed a button and waved to the limo driver. Laurel edged along the car’s rear bumper, keeping the limo between her and the guard. The gate opened and both the car and the girl on foot zipped through it.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Moon Lore

  Robyn climbed the stairs to the cathedral choir loft. She looked away from Tucker’s piles of research books as she passed the table where he liked to work. He was close to finishing his dissertation, he had said. Would he ever finish now?

  Robyn slowed down. Averting her eyes wasn’t right. It hurt to look, but maybe it was important. It wouldn’t be right to pretend like everything was okay. Not when Tucker had been taken. Given himself to protect the cause. Like Laurel. Like Mom.

  There was going to be sacrifice. There was always going to be, in a fight like this.

  Robyn had resisted the idea that anything sacrificed would come from her. Her parents. Her own life. Instead, she’d put others at risk to protect what was hers. What kind of leader did that?

  Everyone hated Crown because he was selfish. A better governor would put everyone else ahead of himself. A better hoodlum would, too, she supposed. What she had told Key seemed truer than ever. Something would have to be sacrificed. Either her parents, or Robyn herself. That was Crown’s ultimatum, and it was a doozy.

  Tucker’s moon lore books seemed to stare back at her, accusingly. A dozen books, or more. Some from the library, some from his personal collection. He’d studied every aspect of the moon lore, and could tell long (sometimes boring) stories about what was written of the struggles to come.

  The books were all tagged and marked with sticky notes poking out of them. They were surrounded by stacks of notebooks, full of Tucker’s writings, and an old coffee cup, all dried out and stained.

  Robyn turned away again. She didn’t have time to get all choked up. She’d dismissed Tucker’s knowledge too often. Now, she’d give anything to be able to ask his opinion of what it all meant. Of what might happen next. What should happen next.

  Robyn moved away from his work station and went to the door of the moon shrine courtyard. Her hand flitted to her chest, feeling for the pendant. The pendant she no longer had. Sheriff Mallet had taken it.

  Robyn sighed. Why was she even here? The place drew her to it, much like the fire, but it was pointless to be there. She was unable to get in without the key. So she sat in front of the door and leaned against it. The painted-black metal felt cool against her back. She shivered.

  The task ahead of her seemed impossible. Standing by the fire, she’d felt … powerful. In control. Like she could take on the governor and the sheriff and the whole lot of MPs that stood against her.

  But why? She was only one girl. One girl, with no pendant.

  What if all the power was in the pendant? What if that’s why she’d been able to convince everyone that she could lead? Maybe what they saw when they looked at her was not anything about herself, but the reflection of the jewelry she happened to own. Even Sheriff Mallet had known the pendant was important and powerful. Why else would she have been so eager to take it for herself?

  Robyn rested her head on her knees. Getting the pendant back was probably impossible. Just like saving her parents. The thing to do now was to be strong. Wasn’t it? That’s what they would want her to do. Keep fighting.

  Right below her, a dozen people would soon gather, ready to fight alongside her. Why did she feel more alone than ever?

  She reached for her pendant again, reflexively. She had touched and held it a lot, she realized. With that comfort gone, the world seemed a little bit colder. The fire, that much farther away.

  In the absence of hope, she was left with faith. Her father had believed in the moon lore, to the very end. He’d planned for his own disappearance, and left her so many clues. The map. The hologram. The pendant.

  She pressed her back against the black door. It, at least, had warmed after contact with her body. She didn’t even need to read the curtain anymore. She had it memorized:

  OFFSPRING OF DARKNESS, DAUGHTER OF LIGHT

  GIFTING THE PEOPLE, BEACON INTHE NIGHT

  EMERGE AFTER SHADOWS, HIDING HER FACE

  HOPE OFTHE ANCIENTS, DISCOVER HER PLACE

  BREATH BLOOD BONE, ALL ELEMENTS UNITE

  BLAZE FROM WITHIN, INSPIRE THEIR FIGHT

  SUN FINDS HOME, IN ANCIENT RUNE

  DEEP INTHE CRADLE, OFTHE CRESCENT MOON

  Its message was clear.

  Clear, but possibly incomplete? Robyn pulled out the new scrap of moon lore cloth and held it. The pendant had led to this moon shrine. Where else might it have led?

  The shrines held the key. Suddenly, Robyn was sure of it. Why else would her parents each take such risks in order to give Robyn both halves of the pendant? Why would the map have been so important to her father? The more time that passed, the more sure she became. There had to be more to the moon lore secrets. Perhaps every answer she was looking for was contained in those scraps of silver fabric.

  The way to beat Crown.

  The way to find her parents.

  The beating heart of the Crescendo, the new Crescent Rebellion.

  Robyn touched the still-empty space over her heart. Mallet might have stolen her necklace, but Robyn would find a way to put the pieces together nonetheless.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Bullet Points

  The gun looked different than Scarlet remembered. It rested in the center of the tabletop. She didn’t especially like being alone with it. The weapon was the strongest possible reminder of everything that was wrong.

  There was only a short while before Jeb would have to return to the MP barracks, and currently he was using the time to sit in the bathroom for a hundred years. People always made fun of girls for taking a long time in the bathroom. Really, boys were way worse.

  Scarlet reached for the gun. It was more glossy than shiny. Still metal, not plastic, but it had a rather plasticky look about it. Like a toy. But she knew it was no toy.

  Last night they’d been face to face with Crown’s guards. The terror didn’t fade so easily. The guards at the mansion had bigger, longer weapons. Rifles, ma
ybe, or some kind of automatic. Big enough to be strapped to them like purses.

  Jeb’s was handheld, to be worn in a holster at his hip. Each bullet in the cartridge was no bigger than the top of Scarlet’s thumb. But that one tiny piece of flying metal was all it would take to destroy her, or anyone she cared about.

  She studied the gun closely. It was definitely not the same gun he used to carry. It was about the same size, but lighter. It had grooves where the palm and fingers should rest, and when she held it in her hand, it glowed red along a low mound on the top.

  The bathroom door opened. She could hear the fan going for a second before Jeb closed the door behind him. Not fast enough. She still caught a whiff of what he’d been up to in there. Boys.

  Scarlet fought the impulse to turn and point the weapon at him. Just as a joke. But she didn’t. It wasn’t safe. She hated the impulse, even, but guns did that to people, she figured. Brought out your worst instincts. Made you feel reckless. Invincible.

  Instead she pointed it at the Wanted poster taped to the wall. At Robyn’s sketched-on face. That’s what the weapon was meant for, after all. Hunting Robyn. And her friends, including Scarlet herself.

  Jeb plopped himself into the chair next to her. Sighing, he reached out and rubbed Scarlet’s shoulder with one hand.

  “You’re okay? You’re sure?”

  “We got away. No biggie.” She pushed away his worry with a grin. “I’m here now.”

  He gazed upon her skeptically. She was singing a different tune now, that was for sure. It had been a relief to escape from the group and get back to where Jeb was waiting. She had cried. She had scared him at first by not being able to talk about what had happened. And when she finally had, it only filled him with rage and frustration, from which she could barely extract a simmering comfort.

  Now, with him sitting there calmly in his MP uniform, comfort seemed like a very faraway thing.

  “You don’t have to go back,” she said. “Be a fugitive, like the rest of us.”

  Jeb shifted uncomfortably. “It’s useful to have me on the inside.” He couldn’t, wouldn’t be the kind of person to fully rebel. Scarlet knew this. Not everyone has it in them to give up their life for a cause, Chazz was fond of saying. But everyone can play a role.