The Dragon Games

Heist

To intentionally use the Divine, there were two rules. One, see the object. Two, make a hand gesture. But when someone was unconscious, the Divine could slip out in unforeseen ways, with no regard for the rules.

That was how, on the morning of the job, I awoke to the Divine equivalent of wetting the bed.

Every object not bolted down floated through the air, like my chamber was underwater. My hairbrush hung over my head, my dirty laundry drifted past my window, and my bed, with me in it, was halfway to the ceiling.

I yelped.

The bubble popped, and everything fell, crashing with a huge boom.

"Seven hells!" my landlady shrieked, her voice piercing from three floors down.

I froze. Thinking fast, I slammed my fist into the wall.

"Who did that?" I shouted. "It's the crack of dawn, you cur! I'll have your head!"

As the bottom floors dissolved into accusations and yelling, I surveyed the damage. My room lay in destruction, my furniture cracked and strewn across the floor.

Good.

Better to screw up now, before the stakes become fatal.

I used my Divine to levitate a broken mirror shard in front of my face, then tied my hair back with a bandana. As I dressed, I tallied up my wounds.

A scar between my ribs, a burn on my torso, and several more on my back. The latest was a rash Drax's Divine left on my neck, faint pink bumps in the shape of fingerprints. Good thing I had Divine.

If I didn't, Drax's Divine could have burned clean through my body, bones and all.

Once I was dressed, I took the stairs two at a time, slipping past my landlady and another tenant's screaming match unnoticed. The raiders met deep in the woods, as the first rays of sunrise pierced through the pines.

All fifteen dressed head to toe in black, masked and armed to the tooth. Each mask had something to do with their alias. Marcus' mask was white. Viper's had fangs. Mine had nine dots.

They gathered in a circle, talking in low tones as they waited for the captain to show. When Drax arrived, there would be no grand speeches, no final run-throughs. He would confirm the presence of each crew member, hand them a horse, and send them on their way.

At this point, everyone knew the plan like the back of their hand. If they didn't, it'd get branded onto the back of their hand.

Which was all swell and good for me. I had no desire to listen to Drax or socialize with the group. I hung back, in the shadows of the pines, hoping to go unnoticed. No such luck.

Twitch nudged Viper in my direction, and the conversation jerked to a halt.

"I know a better alias than Nine," Viper said. "How about Coward?"

"Or traitor would do," Clawhand added.

"Worm," Slicer hissed.

"No doubt your third escape attempt will work," Viper said. "But you won't be free of Drax. Drax will free you of life."

I ignored the taunts. I expected no less from this lot, the bottom of the barrel left after Drax took over. His first act as captain was to cut anyone with lingering loyalty to Sammy.

Drax refused to lose my skill with the Divine, making me the only exception to the rule. I might not be as gifted as Drax or Sammy, but I was still worlds ahead of the other raiders.

"What's it like?" Viper said. "Praying to a dead man each night?"

I scowled at him. "Sammy is not dead."