Our Forgotten Souls

Chapter Fifteen

So, here's the thing.

As guilty as I felt about totally disobeying June, Erin, and the rebellion again, my freedom was more important.

And a small idea had grown into a very very big one really fast.

It'd started after reading one of June's books. It was some anti-hero fantasy novel involving tons of black market trades and the dark underground of a medieval society. I'd stopped reading the second my plan started to form.

I made sure to bookmark the page.

Anyway, it reminded me that I didn't need the rebellion to fix my chip's identity. I could just get someone to illegally do it.

It would definitely be a lot harder than simply bribing a guard. But we'd already determined bribery wouldn't work in my favor.

Even though I did most of my work alone, sometimes my information came from these same black market traders who knew society's secrets. I frequented their usual trading spots. I knew a couple faces. And, I knew there were a few people who could illegally switch a chip's ID...for a lot of money.

Or for a lot of secrets.

And living in a rebel safe house had given me a ton of secrets that people would pay loads for. I knew information on Elijah's People would more than suffice as payment.

Insert guilt.

I didn't know what giving away this information would do to June and the others. I guess they were the ones who'd put me here in the first place. I had a right to be angry. I had a right to revenge.

But I still felt extremely guilty.

I pushed that guilt aside as I quickly braided my dark hair that night. I didn't have many outfits to choose from, so I picked a top and bottom that looked the least expensive. No need to stand out.

I was headed to a bar and billiards hall about a twenty-minute walk from where I was. I knew this area well enough to find out how to get there.

Escaping was easier than I'd anticipated. Climbing out the bathroom window and down a floor hadn't been too difficult. I just had to climb down a little farther.

Nobody was paying attention to my windows. I guess they'd assumed I'd given up on escape.

By the time I reached the place, it was late in the night. Electric lights lit up the dark cobblestone streets separated by long stretches of nothing. The city hadn't bothered much with late night illumination in these areas. It made getting mugged easier.

Unfortunately, I'd brought the only weapon I could find: a pen. It was far from ideal. But I seriously hadn't been able to get anything else. I'd have to use basic body combat if someone tried to hurt me.

Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. Most of these traders liked to avoid unwanted attention. They wouldn't attack unless threatened. They definitely wouldn't hurt a possible client.

Still, I was afraid. It was hard not to be. No matter how often I came here, I still felt a familiar surge of fear at what people were willing to do for a bit of cash.

I walked into the bar before I could lose my nerve.

It was extremely crowded, per usual. A musty scent filled the air, mixed with the smell of sweat and alcohol. Smoke hid the ceiling in a foggy haze. All around me, various guests lounged, some drinking alone, some laughing with old friends, and some cozying up to each other. A couple was making out right behind one of the bar's many billiards tables. I looked away quickly.

Neon red lights gave the bar its visibility among the din. Temptation drove me to take a seat and forget all my problems. I could pretend I wasn't still Stacey Sardon. I could stay here for days until June finally realized I'd disappeared.

Maybe I would do that anyway, after this was all over.

A man with a pool stick nearly stabbed me in the gut as I snuck past him. He let out a raucous curse as the ball barely missed its pocket.

I moved on before the guy lost. Brawls easily broke out, especially with all the gambling that went on.

I eyed the dark back corner of the bar, where my contact usually sat. I didn't want to seem too interested – people were easily suspicious. But he wasn't here. I could tell that immediately. I frowned to myself. Crap.

Usually, I would leave without bothering to gather information. I couldn't do that this time. I'd already made my escape. I didn't want to risk all this again.

I was about to turn to the bar and wait it out, when I felt a hand lightly graze my elbow.

I tightened my grip on the pen. This probably wouldn't end well for me.

I had no choice.

In an instant, I turned, pen in hand, and aimed right for my attacker's eye.

He caught me wrist seconds before I could puncture his face.

And smiled charmingly at me.

"Not to offend you, but that pen doesn't seem like the best weapon, in my opinion." His voice was sultry and slow, like melted caramel. Lazy in a way. Meant to manipulate.

His visage was the absolute opposite. His eyes were an electrifying blue. Medium-cropped silver hair swept over his forehead. His skin was paler than I'd ever though possible, but entirely clear of blemishes.

He towered over me, still gripping my wrist in a vise-like hold. Judging by his appearance, he was around my age. I wondered what had happened to him to bring him here.

"Let go of me," I threatened. He had the upper hand, though, and seemed to cherish this fact.

Rather than release me, he glanced at my arm. I realized, then, that my incision sight was out. I should've attacked with my other arm, but too late now. It was still red and a bit puffy from where they'd cut into my arm to make me Sardon.

"Funny thing you've got there," he commented, nonchalantly. His hold on my wrist weakened minutely. I ripped my arm from his grasp.

"Good thing it's none of your business," I spat in response, clutching my arm to my chest as if to hide it. I began walking away, realizing he'd stolen my pen in the process.

My only pen to doodle with. I'd have to ask for a new one and come up with an excuse.

"Don't you want this back? And don't you want someone to fix what you've got in your arm?" he yelled after me. I froze. How could he guess what I wanted that easily?

"I know someone," he added. I looked back at him. He held the pen in the air temptingly. He grinned from ear to ear at my attention.

I could just walk out. I could leave behind this entire plan and be Stacey Sardon, just as the rebellion wished.

But my freedom was too tempting to leave behind.

"Who?"