Chapter 2
I adjust my grip on the pistol, trying to stay calm. Jaw whines and desperately searches for the source of the voice. His lips twitch, threatening to pull back at any moment to reveal deadly teeth.
"Name's Roman," I answer, struggling to raise my voice over the racket outside. "Aesircide. What's yours?"
"Fancy title, lad. I've got one, too." The disembodied voice speaks professionally - flat like Three, but with an intentional formality instead of a lack of emotion. It's deeper than the Cyclop's voice, too, and less gravelly. "My name is Cold Blood. Cold Blood the Defector."
I raise an eyebrow. He's right, it's fancy - and intimidating.
"You and I share a common enemy," Cold Blood the Defector continues. "You are also very lucky. Your friend bought you a get-through-the-Graveyard-free card. Now please, don't shoot. I'm coming in alone and unarmed. I just want to talk face to face."
Too good to be true. A trap. But the curiosity about my 'friend' pushes past the paranoia, and I find myself reaching for the door handle. Jaw jumps over the center console and follows me onto the ground. I grab the end of the dog's leash with my free hand, pulling him close to me behind the partial cover of the open door. Don't need Jaw tearing this guy's throat out until I know for sure he's a threat.
Still no sign of the mysterious Cold Blood. He's waiting for a response - a sign that I'm listening. Or better yet, that I'm open to talking. I clear my throat and level the pistol at the tunnel mouth.
"What friend?" I call.
The question echoes along the chamber and fades away without a reply. The storm howls without interruption for several moments. Did Cold Blood leave? Or worse, is he preparing to fire on me? Jaw tugs at his leash, restless. I don't blame him. Been in a lot of bad situations, but negotiating while trapped in a metal tube in dangerous tribal lands during a sandstorm is probably one of the worst.
Jaw lets out a low growl, and the hair on his back stands up. An enormous, humanoid form suddenly takes shape in the tunnel entrance. The Defector steps through the sand as if it were a veil, unfazed by the screaming wind and biting sand. As he approaches, I begin to realize just how monstrous this man is; he dwarfs me by a startling amount, both in height and build. Cold Blood may be unarmed, but the grotesquely huge muscles visible through his black shirt suggest he doesn't need a weapon to crush a man's skull. My adrenaline surges, fighting against the fear in my gut. I aim directly at his broad chest, wondering if a gun would even be able to stop him. The Defector looks like he could brush the bullets off his shirt after he finished bashing my head in.
Focus. This guy is still just a man. A gigantic, terrifying man, but still flesh and blood - I think. Cold Blood's face is hidden beneath a grey scarf wrapped around his head. Over his eyes sits a pair of red goggles whose lenses glisten like beady, insectile eyes. No way to get a read on him.
The Defector stops several paces from my car, giving me some breathing room. With legs as long as his, though, I'm sure the monster could close the gap in only a couple strides. He stands there, motionless and calm, seemingly unconcerned with the handgun aimed at him. I can't tell if it's an act or if he truly doesn't fear being shot.
Cold Blood pulls down part of the scarf, revealing a mouth full of bright, white teeth filed to razor-sharp points. He reminds me of the Crocodiles back in Eden, but he seems to have better manners than they did. Thanks to the giant's long-sleeved shirt and scarf, I can't see if he has any piercings or scars like the soldiers of Eden. The only thing I know for sure is that he could snap me in half in he wanted to.
"A Handmaiden," the Defector replies at last. "I did not ask her name - didn't care. Wouldn't stop talkin' 'bout you, though."
My stomach jumps. Trace was here.
"She's a talker, yeah," I reply, narrowing my eyes at the monstrous man. We're not exactly face to face; he towers above me, and I have to tilt my chin up to look at him. "What did you do with her?"
"I didn't do anything to her. She left. Pissing off the false Goddess by fleeing, she knew I would do anything to scorn the bitch. So I allowed her to pass unharmed. She also requested the same of you."
Cold Blood gazes down at me, and I get the unnerving sense that he's sizing me up from behind those goggles. Judging me.
"You got a title since then, though," he adds. "You aren't just blowing steam, are you, little man?"
"Don't have any reason to make it up, and you don't seem to be intimidated by it, anyway," I reply, slightly irritated at being called 'little man.' I'm the one pointing the gun and asking the questions, and yet it feels like Cold Blood is in charge of the entire situation. "Got a job in Eden. Targets turned out to be a group led by an Asgardian called Vates. My dog and I killed the bastard. Got the title when I got back, but the Handmaiden was already gone."
I wonder what Trace would think of it. Aesircide. It's not every day someone manages to kill an Asgardian, so I've been told. But I don't get the idea she'd be impressed by killing - not if her complaints about other Road Warriors were genuine.
"How'd she know I'd be coming this way?"
"Dunno," the Defector says, sounding bored. "I think she thought you were gonna follow her."
The giant lifts his goggles to peer at me with horribly bloodshot eyes. Sure enough, he looks like he's trying to figure me out.
"What are you planning?" Cold Blood asks bluntly. "I didn't actually expect to see a man chase a Handmaiden through hostile territory. Do you want her dead? Or does the hardened Asgardian slayer have a soft spot for the young girl?"
"Don't want her dead." The reply comes out harsh and defensive. "I need to find her before someone kills her. That simple."
I struggle to look the Defector in the eye. It was a lot easier when he had his goggles on. Seeing his eyes doesn't do anything to make the giant look more human or less ferocious. Definitely don't want to make an enemy of him unless I have to.
"You said we have a common enemy," I venture. "Who's that?"
The red-eyed, razor-toothed man blinks in surprise.
"Anuket, obviously." The statement sounds more like a question, like he's wondering how I could be so clueless. "You don't just try to rescue a fugitive and recipient of Anuket's wrath without being her enemy."
I say nothing, but a puzzled look crosses my face. Anuket, Goddess of Eden. I figured she was Cold Blood's foe by the way he talked about her. But my enemy, too? The Defector licks his teeth and narrows his eyes suspiciously.
"Why are you really here, Aesircide?"
"Told you, I need to find that Handmaiden," I insist. "It's not a rescue - not if I bring her back to Anuket. The Goddess will give me whatever I want as payment. Everyone in the Empire will be looking for the runaway soon, so I need to find her first if I want that reward."
Black and white, straight-forward, simple. Just another mission.
You aren't like other Road Warriors I have met.
Trace's words echo in my mind. She was wrong, of course. I'm just like the rest of them. I fight, I kill, I do what I have to do, and I don't look back. Except… I do regret things. A lot of things. Those thoughts keep me awake at night and haunt my dreams when I manage to sleep. A wish from Anuket can't get rid of that. Nothing can. If I save Trace, if I don't deliver her to her death, it'll be one less thing to regret later. I'll be throwing my life away, sure, but I made that choice when I left Utopia. I am just like other Road Warriors, but the thing is, maybe I don't want to be. Maybe I want to be different. Maybe I don't want another regret. She's the only one who ever saw that in me.
Cold Blood stares at me in silence, waiting for something - the truth, I guess. How come everyone I meet can read me so easily? I need to learn how to master Three's blank face.
"And I… owe her an apology," I continue hesitantly. "And she owes me reading lessons. Look, I'm not saying I have a 'soft spot' or any of that shit. I just need to find her before she does something stupid and gets herself killed. It's… important."
Cold Blood's lips turn up in a grin. Between the damaged eyes and unnatural teeth, it may be the most unnerving gesture I've ever seen - even worse than Yale's smile. It's a terrifying sight, but at the same time, it doesn't look sinister. The behemoth seems amused.
"You have no idea what you are doing, do you?" This time, the question sounds more like a statement. Cold Blood's tone is almost friendly. "Listen, lad, it's okay to have friends out here. You need them. You won't get far without them. If this slave girl means so much to you, go find her and cut the devil-may care-act."
The Defector's grin morphs into a scowl as he reaches up to pull the scarf back over his mouth.
"But if she is your enemy, don't pretend she is not. Destroy her, and don't let it get to your head. I don't care which way it is, but you are a poor liar. Either to me or yourself. Not sure which." Cold Blood lowers the goggles over his eyes, which somehow makes him look more human. "You are young and inexperienced, little one. Also scared and confused. Don't let any of that show. Those less merciful than myself would have jumped at the exposed weakness."
The Defector falls silent and steps back from my car. I stare at him, unable to move or speak. His words hit me as hard as I imagine his body would if he charged at me. I can't even bring myself to get insulted over 'little one.' As for 'scared and confused,' he's right. I may be lying to myself about other things, but I can't deny the truth on that one. Cold Blood can see right through me.
I slowly lower my gun. My heart pounds in my chest. Maybe it's because of what he said. Maybe it's because he's the biggest, most terrifying man I have ever seen. Probably both.
"I agreed to help ya," Cold Blood adds as he turns toward the tunnel mouth. "I'll guide you through the Grave. Follow me close. But this is a one-way ticket. If I see you here again, you will be treated just like everyone else."
As he walks away, a word forms on my lips. It's the same word that was there when Trace left my room, the last time I saw her. I held it back then, convinced it wasn't important. What if I had said that word? Maybe she would've come back, and I would've learned how to write my name - a useless skill, but better than spending my time being tormented by nightmares. But afterward, what then? That other Handmaiden said Trace had been planning to leave for a long time. Was she already prepared to leave that night? The things she said about giving me lessons if I came back to Eden for more work - were those all lies? Or… would she have stayed and waited for me if I hadn't ruined everything? These are the thoughts I've been avoiding: the idea that it might be my fault she's out here now.
Guilt. Regret. If only I'd said that word. Things might have turned out differently; maybe I wouldn't be in this mess. But… I can try saying it now. It's worth a shot, yeah? There's one more thing I need to know.
"Wait!"
I hear the voice of a man trying so hard not to sound desperate and terrified. It belongs to me. I hate it, but there's no taking it back now.
"What did she say about me?" I call after the giant.
Cold Blood continues walking. Either he didn't hear me or he doesn't care. Then, just before he steps out into the angry sand, his booming voice echoes down the metal walls.
"That she believes in you," he says before disappearing into the storm.
The words swirl through my head long after they stop bouncing off the tunnel walls. They drown out everything. The roar of my car's engine, the storm raging outside - it's all just background noise.
Jaw and I get back in the car at some point. My body moves on its own; my brain is somewhere else. Even after what I said to her, she believes in me. No one has ever said that about me before - not even Simon or Cord. Sure, we all believed in each other, but we never said it. Looking back now, I wish I had. Maybe it would have helped Simon. Maybe Trace thinks it will help me.
I see her face in my mind. Smiling. Blue eyes wide with excitement. Then I see her as she looked when I yelled at her. Confused and sad. Tears in her eyes. How would she look if I told her I was taking her back to Eden? Heartbreak and fear. Maybe even hatred. I don't think I want to see that.
Before I know it, I'm tearing out of the tube. I cover my lower face with my scarf again, wishing more than ever that I had goggles. Cold Blood definitely has the right idea. The sun struggles to shine through the wind-whipped sand, but it's still brighter out here than it was in the tunnel. I find myself feeling relieved. As much as I hate storms, I hate being stuck in cramped, dark places even more. The sounds of the world also return - brash and violent. But despite the noise, my head feels clearer now. Lighter.
I remember how I felt the night I learned about her disappearance. I knew what I wanted to do then. It wasn't until Anuket's offer that things started getting complicated and confusing. That's when I started lying to myself, like Cold Blood said. Anuket can give me many things, but she can't give me what I felt when I was with Trace. Before I let Three get to me, before I drove her away, I was… not exactly happy, but the closest to happy I've been in a long time. I want that again. Cold Blood said it himself: I need friends. It may cost me, but I've gone through hell for less.
Trace believes in me. I can't let her down.
