Broken City: Forsaken Part 15

I shake my head, tears burning in my eyes. "I just ... I can't ..." How am I supposed to tell him that I'm not what he thinks I am? That I can heal myself?

My eyes close. G.o.d, I wish I could heal him like I do myself. If only I could... if only ...

A few tears escape my eyes and stream down my cheeks, but I quickly wipe them away and open my eyes to inspect his chest.

"There has to be a way to stop the bleeding."

"Blaise can fix this." He squeezes my hand, his voice hoa.r.s.e. "Don't worry. We just need to get out of here."

I glance over my shoulder at Blaise. He has his gun pointed at the Forsaken, and they have theirs aimed at him and Reece. They're all throwing threats at each other, but it's clear who the outnumbered side is.

I return my attention back to Ryder. "How can he help you?"

The corners of his lips pull into a tired smile. "He'll st.i.tch me up and give me a shot."

My brows dip. "Oh."

"You were thinking something magical, weren't you?"

I nod, feeling silly. "I kind of was."

"That's okay." He coughs, his shoulders heaving. "It's understandable, considering."

I swallow hard. Ryder saw me trying to eat the quercu. Did he see the monster living inside me? Does he know?

"It's okay." He squeezes my hand again, his grip weakening. "I know you're not like them."

My lips quiver as I battle back the tears. "How can you stand to look at me?"

"How can I not?" His gaze drifts over my shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing, cowering on the ground like a coward?" Calla asks from behind me.

I turn around, ready to fight, but mid-turn, a knife jabs through my chest in the center of my heart. A whimper flees my lips as I press my hand to the bleeding wound.

Calla clutches the b.l.o.o.d.y knife in her hand, staring at me with utter hatred in her eyes. I can't entirely blame her after she lost her whole family to hybrids and thinks I'm one.

"You deserve this," she says, "for being what you are."

Part of me believes her, believes I deserve to die. But the stronger part of me refuses to give in.

Fight! Allura! Fight!

And just like when I was in my cell and fought to give up, I fight not to die.

"Allura!" Blaise runs toward me, winding around a few bodies on the floor.

I wonder if they're all dead or if some of them have just pa.s.sed out. Did Blaise kill all these people?

When Blaise reaches us, he rips the knife from Calla's hand with murderous rage gleaming in his eyes. Calla spins on her heels and dives for him, but Blaise's swiftness is no match for her.

He easily dodges to the right and moves to slice the blade across her throat.

"No!" I skitter between them with my arms spanned out. "Don't kill her. There's already been too much destruction." Destruction that would've never happened if I didn't exist.

Guilt clenches at my chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"I don't need your help," Calla seethes from behind me.

Blaise barely stops right before the knife spears my chest, and he wrenches back. "Are you crazy? She stabbed you ..." His jaw ticks as he stares at the blood dripping from the hole in my chest. "She deserves to die, Allura, so move out of my way."

I hug my arms around myself, s.h.i.+vering from the cold consuming my body. Something's wrong. Why am I not healing?

"Blaise ..." I set my hand on the open wound in my chest. "Something's ... wrong ..." I teeter sideways, woozy and disoriented.

Blaise's rage evaporates and turns to worry. He drops the knife to catch me in his arms and lowers us down to the ground.

"We're going to get you out of this." He places his hand on the hole in my chest, and blood coats his fingers. "Why aren't you healing?"

"I don't know ..." I wheeze. "You keep saying ... You're going to get me out of this." My lungs burn as I struggle for oxygen. "But maybe ... it might be better ... if I ... just die-"

"No." His sharp tone silences me. "I won't let you."

I gasp for my next breath. "But you saw what I did ... You saw me try to ... eat the quercu. And I wanted to."

He brushes my hair away from my damp forehead, his fingers trembling. "I don't care what you tried to do or what you are. You just saved someone who stabbed you. There's not a bad bone in your entire body."

I don't agree with him. I've wanted to hurt people before. Wanted to feed off them. Like the guy whose neck I almost broke and in the memory when the guy tried to kiss me. I'm a monster, always have been. Or have I?

A memory p.r.i.c.kles at my mind.

"You're the first."

I think I've been told that before, but I can't remember when or what it means.

I open my mouth. "Blaise ... I think I-"

A series of sirens fire off, and then an unnerving silence clutches the air. I move to sit up, but my lethargic body refuses to budge.

"Allura," Blaise hisses, his arms stiffening. "Don't make any sudden movements."

I suck in a painful breath as I angle my head and look around. Every Forsaken has frozen and turned toward the open flap of the tent.

"They're here," an older woman whispers, her hand shaking as she puts her knife into her holster.

"What is it?" I ask Blaise. "Why did everyone stop fighting?"

"I'm not sure," Blaise mutters, drawing me closer to him.

"The Deorum are here," Zinnia says with pure glee. Droplets of blood speckle her face and hair, and she has a gun pointed at Reece's chest. "Now, this ends."

Reece has his hands in the air to the sides of him. "What ends?"

Zinnia's eyes dance with excitement. "You'll soon find out."

Ryder gives Blaise an inconspicuous glance, and I have the feeling they're nonverbally making another plan.

Blaise nods once then scans the tent. "We need to get you out of here."

"What about Reece and Ryder?" I fight the drowsiness threatening to pull me under. "We should help the other people in the grates, too. There was a child in there."

Blaise straightens his legs and pushes to his feet, lifting me in his arms. "Reece will get Ryder, but Allura, we don't have time to free everyone-"

Loud thuds rumble through the tent, like the marching of a thousand warriors. The earsplitting noise claws at my eardrums, and my stomach churns, ready to hurl.

"What is that?" I ask, but my voice gets lost in the thumping.

"We have your sacrifices!" Zinnia calls out with her arms spread wide, the gun still in her hand but no longer aimed at Reece. "But before we make the exchange, I need to know how you let her into our camp. She's one of them. She's plagued with the hunger for life. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"She's not a hybrid. Don't blame this on us." The low voice is startlingly close.

Blaise reacts, jumping to the side, just as a handful of figures file into the tent and surround us.

My lips part in shock at the sight them. Tall, broad, and dressed head to toe in black, metal armor, and concealing their faces are masks that look similar to the ones the Forsaken wore when we first entered the camp. They aren't carrying weapons, but they're wearing packs on their backs that blend with their armor. I have no idea what they are. Grim? Human? Machine?

"s.h.i.+t," Blaise mutters under his breath, backing away from them. "Where the h.e.l.l did they come from?"

"The ground," I whisper, and he gapes down at me. "Calla, the girl who brought me to Zinnia, told me they live in the ground."

"If she's not a hybrid, then what is she?" Zinnia asks, approaching the group of Deorum pus.h.i.+ng their way into the tent. "Is she Grim?"

"No," the one standing at the front of the group answers. His voice is deep and sounds male. "She's something else."

While I can't see his eyes through the mask, I can feel his gaze boring into me. I have the strongest urge to look away, but I can't seem to take my eyes off him. What the heck is he?

He shakes his head and turns to address Zinnia. "We can't take her."

"What do you mean you can't take her?" Zinnia asks. "She should count for three people if she's that different."

"Taking her would mean choosing to go to war with the watchers. They'd kill to get their hands on her." He crosses his arms, his arms clinking. "We will not choose war. Our kind has been at war with the Grim before, and we suffered for centuries. We won't do it again."

"Really? The Grim want her?" Zinnia's brows rise. "Maybe I should keep her then and offer her to the Grim."

"If you do, you'll be breaking your truce with us," he warns. "And we will no longer offer you any protection."

"Maybe I'll risk it." Zinnia stares him down defiantly. "The Grim are more powerful than you, anyway. They could offer us better protection."

He laughs hollowly, slanting toward her. "Like they would ever offer you protection. You're pathetic. Look at you, offering your own to us just so you can spare a few lives of your own kind." He motions around at the tent filled with Forsaken. "You hate hybrids because they murdered your families, but you do the same thing to others by stealing their children, their mothers, their fathers, and offering them to us."

"How dare you insult my people!" Zinnia's expression turns savage as she steps toward him. A few of the Forsaken match her movement, closing in on the Deorum. "You know nothing of our suffering." She dares another step closer. "And at least we stay up here and fight, unlike you who hide underground like a bunch of cowards."

"Don't you dare speak of things you do not understand. You have no idea what my people have been through," he snarls, refusing to back down.

The Deorum behind him take measured steps forward, and the Forsaken do the same. An impending fight lingers in the air, heavy and potent. Blaise must sense it, because he starts inching his way toward the side of the tent, taking small but calculated steps.

I search the tent for Reece and Ryder, but an image surfaces in my mind and completely blinds me.

The darkened sky crumples like burned paper, raining onto the ground where figures cry over the loss of their loved ones. I can't see any of their faces, just shadows of figures dressed in heavy metal armor. The Deorum?

How would I know this? How do I know anything?

I strain my eyes, desperate to see more, but the images fade away like a dimming light.

"You know a lot more than you think," a voice whispers. "A lot more."

More images press against the back of my mind of a land filled with blood instead of water, but shouting and gunfire jerk me back to reality. The Forsaken have opened fire on the Deorum, but the bullets have little impact, dinging against the metal and falling to the ground.

Blaise runs for the door, hunkering down. Bullets zoom beside us, and more blood paints the dirt and tent walls.

I want to make the death and murder stop. All this pain, this hate, all the blood spilled ... I close my eyes, wis.h.i.+ng I could do something.

My head begins to pound and blood trickles from my ears as a bullet pierces my neck.

"Keep your head down," Blaise murmurs, hugging me closer to his chest. "I'm going to get you out of here, but you need to hold still."

"But Ryder ... and Reece." Dizziness consumes me, the world spinning round and round. I feel like I'm drowning in my own blood.

Too weak to fight, I let myself slip under.

Chapter Sixteen.

Escaping "Stay with me, Allura," Blaise begs, his feet hammering against the ground.

The temperature has dropped to a chilling degree, and the noise of gunfire has dwindled.

I crack open my eyes to look around. The night sky stretches above us. The moon is absent, but the exploding fireb.a.l.l.s of stars offer an adequate enough amount of light that I can make out the wire fencing just a small distance in front of us, lit up with torches.

We're still on Forsaken ground.

"Where are Ryder and Reece?" I croak, my throat as dry as the air.

Blaise's muscles twitch. "They're coming," is all he says.