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CHAPTER FOURTEEN

GABE

Power is like whiskey. It might burn at first, but eventually, you’ll want more.

—Caldienan proverb

A s it turned out, no longer being a fugitive was rather boring.

Gabe spent the next two days wandering the city.

At first, from force of habit, he went to the fighting barns.

But no one would fight him. He stood in the queue for a while with the other hopefuls after placing a fairly significant bet against himself, but the eyes of the referees kept roving over him, pausing only briefly before quickly moving along.

Three matches later, one of them he recognized jerked his chin, gestured over to the wall.

Fists clenching on nervous energy, Gabe followed.

The ref was a big man, blond and red-faced, nose blotchy with drink. He crossed his arms. “You might as well leave.”

“Pardon?” Maybe he had retained his manners after all, though it seemed he could only access them when he was in danger of setting fire to the entire building.

“Rotunda orders.” The fights here were technically legal, though Gabe knew they played fast and loose with the law. “You aren’t to be touched.”

So. He was safe, but he was trapped. A familiar feeling.

Gabe didn’t bother arguing. He nodded curtly and left the barn.

He could return to the boardinghouse that Eoin had so kindly placed them in, but it felt claustrophobic.

Stupid, when it was so much bigger than the row house had been, but it wasn’t so much the square footage as it was the emotional crowding.

Val and Mari, happily married. And now Michal and Malcolm, their latent attraction finally given way to a relationship.

When they’d moved into Eoin’s boardinghouse, Michal and Malcolm had decided to share a room. It wasn’t unexpected, but Malcolm had drawn himself up as if it were when they were choosing accommodations. “I’ll bunk with Michal.”

Mari had shared a quick, warm look with Val before nodding smoothly. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

Gabe had nodded, too. Apparently, this was not the reaction Malcolm expected.

His friend had sighed, scrubbing a hand over his hair. “Gabe, I didn’t mean to leave you in the dark…”

“None of us were in the dark.” He’d managed a smile. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

Malcolm smiled back, though it was tinged with something like pity. “I know it’s hard. To see people with the person… the people… they care about, when you…”

“When I can’t,” Gabe said quietly. “With either of them.”

It was the first time he’d admitted aloud that Lore wasn’t the sole person he missed. But apparently, Malcolm wasn’t the only one who was bad at hiding his feelings.

He’d clapped Gabe on the shoulder, not knowing what else to say.

Outside the barn, Gabe leaned against the wall, splinters scraggling into his hair.

His only options for the rest of the day before another meeting tonight were to wander the market square or go to a tavern. Despite his feelings toward Caldienan beer, the tavern won.

A fog of smoke hovered around the door as he pushed it open, seething from the ends of cigarettes held in rough fingers. The smell reminded him of Bastian.

Gabe sat down at a small table in the corner with his back to the wall. When the bar girl came, a pretty thing with brown eyes and a quick smile, he asked for beer, hopeful that this establishment had better brew than the one the other night.

When the bar girl moved aside, Finn was behind her.

The man sat down without waiting for an invitation, giving Gabe a halfhearted toast with his stein. “So you couldn’t stomach another evening at the boardinghouse, either? I can’t stand the place.”

Finn lived in the same house where they did now. Yet another lovely surprise.

The other man took a drink. “Though I suppose you have somewhere to be tonight, so it would only be for a couple hours, anyway.”

“You mean you don’t?” He didn’t recall seeing Finn when the Brothers removed their hoods at the last meeting, but he also hadn’t been looking closely. It’d make sense for him to be a member.

“Hells no.” Finn tossed back the rest of his pint and signaled to the girl at the bar for another. “Never been interested in religion, myself. Though you certainly make it hard for one to be an atheist, what with your”—he swirled his hand in Gabe’s direction—“affliction.”

The bar girl brought their orders. Gabe drained his stein and made a face. It seemed every tavern in Farramark carried the same kegs, and this draught had been pulled from the bottom.

Finn grinned. “So you know that I know. And you don’t care?”

“Frankly, I don’t care about anything having to do with you.”

“Ouch.” But Finn’s smile only widened.

The barmaid brought him another. Gabe sipped it this time, rather than throwing it back. The taste did not improve. “And I assume you’ve known for a while. Eoin told us about your spying.”

“I am rather good at it.” Finn stretched his legs beneath the table and clasped his hands behind his head. “I could give you some pointers. I was told you and the erstwhile Queen made a pair of piss-poor spies.”

Gabe gritted his teeth and took another sip of bad beer.

“I did want to apologize, though.” The thorny grin was gone; Finn almost looked genuine. It made him look more like Bastian, and made Gabe’s teeth grind harder. “I know you wanted to keep what you are a secret.”

“And why, exactly, didn’t you let us?” Heat built in Gabe’s fingers again. If he lifted them from the table, he feared he might leave scorch marks.

“Because,” Finn said, “it would be selfish of you.”

Of all the answers he could have given, Gabe certainly hadn’t expected that one.

Finn leaned forward, elbows on the table, demeanor sobering.

“You have the power of a god. And from what I’ve gathered, you are only interested in getting rid of it.

While another god does whatever the fuck He wants, the rest of the world be damned.

You think armies can stand up to Him? Mortal men?

” He shook his head. “No. If Apollius is going to be stopped, it’s going to take something as powerful as He is. ”

“I’m not that powerful,” Gabe said. “None of us are.”

“Well, you’re closer than anyone else.” Finn sat back, took another drink. “And everything Eoin promised you in exchange for your little magic shows is sure to piss off Apollius, so you’d better be ready to use it.”

“You seem awfully eager for war.”

“I’m not eager for war,” Finn corrected. “But I’m far less eager for what will happen if we pretend war isn’t coming. Caldien has been the largest holdout against the Empire for decades. You think Jax will go easy on us, now that he literally has the most powerful god on his side?”

Beneath the patch, Gabe’s empty eye socket itched.

Finn drained the rest of his beer. When the barmaid gave him a questioning look, asking without words if he wanted another, he waved her off. “You’ll get your war, one way or another,” Finn said as he stood to leave. “Make sure it counts.” He rapped his knuckles on the table, then he was gone.

Gabe stared at the scratched tavern table.

Deftly, cautiously, he let himself slip.

Let the world go black and white, the same way he’d seen it back when he could only channel Mortem, when his grasp of power was so very weak.

The difference now was subtle, a weaving of flame-colored threads among the monotone.

He tugged at those orange-red threads.

The beer left in his glass churned into a boil.

With a screech of his chair across the floor, Gabe threw a handful of coins on the table and stalked outside.

When it was time for the meeting, Gabe met Malcolm by the boardinghouse.

The gas streetlights came on as they made their way to the Rotunda, sparked to glow by young lamplighters who scurried up and down the poles in the fine mist of evening.

The Rotunda was brightly lit, its columns casting shadows over the perpetually damp cobblestones.

“Have you thought about what trick you’re going to perform?” Malcolm asked as they walked down the wet street. Sarcasm, but with an angry edge. “I imagine they won’t let me off easy this time. Figured I’d grow a rose or some shit.”

“I assume set something on fire.” Gabe tugged up his hood. “Maybe Eoin, if he annoys me enough.”

Malcolm snorted.

The guard at the door perked up when they approached. “Your… esteemed guests,” he said, stumbling over proper honorifics. “Come with me.”

Gabe stopped, his hand subconsciously stretching for the knife in his belt. “Where are we going?”

“The meeting tonight is elsewhere.” The Brother dipped his head deferentially. “If you’ll allow me to lead you there.”

Malcolm looked at him, mouth grim.

Wearily, Gabe nodded, gesturing for the Brother to lead the way.

It was a long walk. The Brother led them through the back alleys of the city until they reached the outskirts, buildings tapering off, forests taking their place.

It’d been an unusually dry stretch of days for Caldien, the mist never quite turning to rain, and the scent of the coniferous trees was heavy in the air.

A knot of black-cloaked figures waited at the edge of the woods. One figure broke away, pulling down his hood. Eoin, smiling widely. “The men of the hour.”

“I don’t like this,” Malcolm muttered under his breath.

Neither did Gabe.

Eoin approached, clapping Gabe on the shoulder, then Malcolm in turn. Malcolm stood stiff as he did, body rebounding from the contact. “Delighted you could join us.”

“A bargain is a bargain,” Gabe said through his teeth.

Malcolm frowned. “Why are we here?”

“It seems we should use this opportunity to do something useful.” Eoin gestured to the forest beside them.

“This particular tract of land—one of my own, in the spirit of honesty—needs to be cleared for farming. The weather has not been cooperative. So you”—he pointed to Gabe—“are going to burn it down. And you”—now pointing to Malcolm—“are going to revitalize it.”

They looked at each other, apprehension twinned. The first large-scale use of their power, and of course it had to be something that could go horribly wrong.

Heat built in Gabe’s hands. Heat, and a horrible eagerness.

“I’m not sure if this is a good idea,” Gabe hedged. “We have no practice…”

“Godhood doesn’t need practice.” Eoin’s eyes glinted.

There was nothing else for it. With another guarded look at Malcolm, Gabe stepped forward, closer to the trees.

The Brotherhood hung back, making a half circle around them. It made Gabe feel like a caged animal. He fought not to bare his teeth as he raised his hands.

Ember threads appeared in the air around him, like cracks in the wall of a burning house. They twisted around his fingers, jewel-bright. He channeled all that fire through his body, imbued it with his will.

Burn.

The word was in his mind, his own inner voice. But another voice echoed it.

The forest burst into flame.

It was quick work, faster than a forest fire should be. The trees were immediately consumed, burning wildly, torches in the night-dark.

“Excellent,” Eoin murmured, the flames reflecting on his face, hollowing out his features.

Within moments, the trees were ash. The forest was desolate, the plain beyond them clear to see. More a copse of trees, really. Nothing too impressive.

If he downplayed it in his mind, maybe it’d feel less momentous. Maybe his fingers wouldn’t itch to do it again.

Malcolm came to his side, his jaw clenched tight.

He knelt at the edge of the burnt woods, placed his hands to the ground.

Green flickered at the corners of Gabe’s vision as the grass of the fields beyond encroached on the cleared land, moss furring over the corpses of trees.

A minute, and the field was lush, primed for sowing.

“I hate this,” Malcolm murmured as he stood, backed away. “I hate this.”

Eoin stared at what they’d done, openmouthed. Then, with a whoop of laughter far wilder than expected from a seasoned politician, he started applauding.

The rest of the Brotherhood picked it up, calling their praises into the night air.

Gabe barely listened. He just watched as steam rose into the darkness, the last dregs of smoke disappearing into the light of the full moon.