Red Debt - A Crimson Rising Short Story

Chapter 8

     The sky is gone. A dark grey cloud cover has blocked out the sun, a morning downpour having already turned the area in town into a slip and slide of filth ranging from mud to excrement.

     Rebels are in a panic all around, trying to move supplies from here to there, attempting to finalize preparations in semi-secrecy.

     Almost a week since she found out, Harley should have already been here. I've no doubt she can move those legions across a planet in a matter of hours, her single Coven in minutes. She is waiting, on what it is hard to tell.

     They move too slowly here. In trying to hide their presence further, the rebels continue to operate in the shadows, wasting time. It will not serve them well in the long run. They need to get out of here as quickly as they can, not pretend that they do not already have a target on their backs.

     Janette lingers by my side, silent. I suspect that even if the commanders thought I was lying, the possibility that I've lived through General Harley creates a valuable commodity: an informant. So she waits next to me, watching the way these people move, her fingers tapping at her thighs, anxious.

     Cress and Kassida, hooded, make their way toward the transports, a wordless signal for others to follow. It is easy to tell who is working with us and who is looking for sanctuary. Most in Geneeva are no longer willing to stay after hearing that Harley knows the rebels have been working out of here.

     Geneeva is not a provincial city, but it is small and close-knit. People will whisper, and there will always be someone willing to sell another out for profit.

     Janette carefully shoves me forward, her fingers falling away from my back like branches scraping a windowsill. It makes me remember General Harley's, mimicking the motion when she pushed me away before walking into that crowd of Spirits. Though not able to see her hands, she was warm. So incredibly warm, while cautious and gentle with the order. A deceptive appearance for a woman encased in ice.

     I see a flash of red hair again, but I am learning to no longer look. I imagine if I keep searching for her - from fear or intrigue - she'll eventually appear. Maybe she will be fully present as a hallucination, rather than a wisp of memory. Maybe my mind is protecting me that much, to keep those sights away. Even so, I hear her voice on the wind, a scent of roses falling over us.

     The smell of flowers is not fake, it seems, because Janette pauses next to me, holding my arm. Nearby, there is screaming that starts up. I would say no farther than six blocks. It spreads in a wave, inducing chaos all around. People begin to run, and I am not lost enough to wonder why we aren't.

     Janette comes back to reality and pushes me on. Behind her, I hear wailing and shrieks of terror. I hear them yelling it to each other, to their friends and family and strangers: Seraphina Harley is here.

     I suppose she might have waited until I got here just so that I could die with the rest of them.

     No. I won't. If anything, I could be the only one who lives. I don't know why I take the word of the cosmos' most feared combatant over my own conscience, but she did not seem like she was lying when she tossed the coin to me in that tent, promising that it would save either my own life or that of a loved one. That it would bring the holder of it back to her, and she would deal out judgment as she saw fit.

     A crowd of people running for their lives has gathered, a stampede in the making. Every face is a blur, a thousand different smells overpowering that of the flowers. Janette and I race with them, Cress and Kassida directing refugees and rebels alike up ahead. The latter is in horror, staring across the street through a small opening in the crowd of a woman in the mud, clawing at people's ankles for help.