The Dragon Games

Alliance

A cool spring breeze swept through the woods, but my face flushed like it was high summer. As I trekked across the bumpy terrain, my rock-filled bag threatened to throw my balance with every step. Meanwhile, Elio strolled by my side, hands tucked in his pockets. 

When I had asked if he had corrected Grace about how much blood the ritual required, he tugged down his collar, revealing a fresh bruise blooming across his neck in the shape of fingerprints. 

You're safe, he assured me. But even though he helped, he was still wary of me, dancing a thin line between pity, mistrust, and loathing.

I was no better. I tried to swallow the bitterness rising up my throat, considering he just got choked out on my behalf. After all, I destroyed a hunk of metal, not Sammy. Sammy would have never given me the locket in the first place if he knew what lengths I would go to to keep it.

"Before the Balthasar Heist, I had never joined one of my father's missions," Elio said suddenly. "Up to that point, all I did was help investigate and gather clues. I had never even laid eyes on a raider."

"Okay," I replied, my brows pushing together. What else could I say? Did he expect a round of applause for his first mission, the stellar job he did handing me a one-way ticket to the gallows?

Elio paused as if weighing his words carefully. "Would you tell me more about the raiders? About your scars?"

Part of me wanted to tell Elio to forget it. If the past few days have shown me anything about how his mind works, pity is far from the only reason he stopped Grace from killing me. No doubt he realized that just because my death won't have the desired impact on Sammy, doesn't mean I'm a total waste. 

After all, sticking by his side for all those years must have taught me something. If killing me won't hurt Sammy, maybe my insider information will.

But then, the much louder part of me that enjoyed not dying insisted I stay on his good side. 

"Sammy was creative," I said. "No two lessons alike, except in pain. When I got used to one, he'd start another, so I never adapted or built up tolerance. But even at his worst, I knew he was holding back. I've seen others fall into his hands, and ... D – damn Sammy never did that much to me. He wanted me shaken, scared, but not broken. Not until he could use my divine for everything it was worth."

"But what did he do, specifically?"

"You mean, how did he torture me?" I looked away, making a face. "Come on, Elio. Don't ask me that."

"If you can't talk, then show me."

I shot him a sour look. "Sure, why don't I take my shirt off in front of half of squad Windsor? Perhaps it will seduce one of them, and they will free us both."

Unfazed, Elio flicked a spec of dust off his jacket. "You do realize you're not in the position to make enemies, don't you?"

His tone was so casual, it took an embarrassingly long time for me to understand the threat: he could change the translation just as fast as he fixed it. Whatever he claimed the ritual required, Grace would inflict upon me.

"I'm sorry." I wore a pleasant smile, but my eyes were dark and stormy. "What would you like to know? Is sight enough, or would you like to touch my scars, too?"

"Alright, I should not have said that. I overstepped."

"Just tell me what you want."

"I am not trying to be cruel."

"Just tell me what you want!" I said, louder than I intended.

A few Windsors turned our way. Elio and I fell silent, avoiding each other's eyes until they looked away.

"What if I wasn't a raider?" I said quietly. "What if I was an innocent girl that Sammy just happened to love? Would you have still tried to kill me?"

"That's not justice."

"It's not," I agreed.

"But I don't want justice. I want revenge."

I looked away, my blood running hot.

"Leon Bates is not really my father," Elio said. "He's my uncle. When I was five years old, a raider broke into my house and beat my real father unconscious. Then he lined me, Georgie, and my sister before my mother and told her to pick one child to live. When she chose Georgie, the raider killed him instead. A month later, my father succumbed to his wounds. A year later, my mother, driven mad by guilt and grief, forced every day to look at the children she had sentenced to die, took her own life. My sister handled their losses as well as anyone in her position could, but when something reminds her of the past, she falls into week-long comatose states and refuses to talk, move, or eat. To keep her sane, my uncle calls us his children, letting us play the charade of a normal family."

I stared at Elio like I had never seen him before, my heart hammering against my chest. When Elio accused Sammy of killing his brother, I assumed Elio had gotten a second hand report. But if Elio had actually seen the murder happen, then that changed everything. For the first time, I considered the possibility that a raider had killed Gerogie. 

It's not like Sammy was some infallible god. He had allowed Drax to join the raiders without recognizing the poison in his ranks. Who's to say that Drax or someone else had not defected from Sammy's orders and orchestrated the hit on Elio's family? Drax never gave a damn about the morality of a job, only how much money he could ring from it.

"We buried my parents," Elio said. "But we never found Gerogie's body. Seeing your scars is the closest I've gotten to piecing together what happened to my brother. Out of all that happened that night... the not-knowing is what's haunted me the most. I just want closure."

"You saw it happen?" I echoed. "Did you see the raider's face?"

"They wore a mask." His eyes dipped to my neck. "I only saw a ram skull tattoo peeking out of their collar."

"What mask?"

"Plain black."

Dammit, that's right. If Elio was five, then the murder took place over a decade ago. The raiders did not decorate their masks to match their alias back then.

"Look," I said quickly, like ripping off a bandaid. I never thought I would go into all the gory details between me and Drax to anyone, least of all Elio Bates. "Sammy wouldn't go as far hurting your brother as he went with me. He didn't know your brother. Never got the chance to hate him like he hated me."

"Alright."

"And he didn't like torturing small children, either. He whined that it was too easy; there was no game in it."

"Alright."

"And–"

"Raven," Elio said.

I sighed and launched into a story, of the first time Drax had locked his office door on me, back when I thought you must have a reason to inflict pain – like gaining obedience or power or fear. But for some people, those are just added bonuses. 

The real reward for inflicting pain is the pain itself – the slow and methodical satisfaction of breaking a person others thought was strong, of stripping them of everything they liked about themself, bone by bone, piece by piece ... and that was Drax restraining himself.

When I finished, I didn't like the way Elio looked at me. So I smiled big and broad, just to shock him, to snap him out of his haze. "But what can you do?" I said in a careless tone. "You win some, you lose some." As soon as I turned away from Elio, my smile dropped. I started to continue down the path, but he grabbed my wrist, stopping me before I could get far.

"Why'd Crenshaw go so far?" Elio said, his eyes boring into me. "What was he trying to beat out of you?"

That I'd shove him off something tall given half the chance. The words were on the tip of my tongue, but I pulled my wrist away, opting to say nothing at all. Saying the answer Elio wanted wouldn't have done me any good, either. No chance I could have delivered it with a straight face.

As I walked away, the hair on the back of my neck prickled. I glanced over my shoulder, to find Tobias' eyes pinned on me. Most people would be embarrassed to be caught staring, but Tobias kept his eyes pinned on my face, like he owned me.