Fallen Firsts (Rebel Thirds Book 3) Page 2

This was not justice. Victor did not deserve to be beaten. The Council was wrong. And if they were wrong about this, what else were they wrong about?

  The Second finally finished with the twentieth lash, and Victor crumpled to the floor. Shaking. Bruised. Broken.

  “There will be a new statute, as of tomorrow,” the Doctor said.

  I barely heard him over the echoes of the whip and the stifled sobs of the man I loved.

  ---

  Victor lived in a tiny cottage a mile away from Galilea. There were only a few Doctors in town, so it was a quiet neighborhood. I felt very exposed and nervous as I crept toward his door in the middle of the night.

  It looked like all the lights were off inside, but I let myself in anyway, because he never bothered to lock his door. Though he was no longer a Third, he didn’t have any possessions that were worth stealing. Once safely inside, I closed the door quietly behind me and tiptoed down the dark hallway toward his bedroom. A sliver of dim light shone through the crack under the door, so I knocked quietly before turning the knob and entering.

  “Meghan? What are you doing here?” He sounded surprised and angry as he tried to pull himself into a seated position.

  “I came to look after you,” I said, pushing him gently back onto his stomach. He was shirtless, but his back was covered in bloody bandages that needed to be changed. The circles under his eyes had grown darker, and I could tell he hadn’t slept since the whipping. I wondered if they were still making him go to work like this.

  “We’re not supposed to see each other anymore,” he said harshly, but I chose to overlook his anger.

  I knew he had zero tolerance for law-breaking, and until a few days ago, I had been inclined to agree with him. But I couldn’t just leave him, knowing that he needed my help. Beside, Galilea told me to look after him. It was an order from my First. That, at least, he could understand.

  “Galilea told me to come,” I said, turning to leave his bedroom and collect the first aid supplies I needed in order to tend to his wounds. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

  When I returned, his eyes were closed, but his breathing was far too rapid and shallow for him to be asleep. He looked up when he heard me approach, but I couldn’t read the expression on his face.

  “It’s after curfew, isn’t it?”

  “Galilea told me to come.”

  “Just because you were given instructions from your First doesn’t mean you can ignore the laws of the Council.”

  “Then what would you like me to do?” I stared at him and he glared back.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, and I tried not to smile as he struggled not to blink. He didn’t know what to say, and it was adorable.

  “That’s what I thought,” I said, shaking a few pain killers from the bottle I had taken from the bathroom and slipping them into his hand. “Now, take these and stop talking.”

  He sighed but did as he was told, taking the glass of water I offered him and collapsing onto his stomach again.

  With a smile, I dipped a clean cloth into the bowl of warm water and lifted the first bandage away from his back. “Lie still so I can clean these out.”

  He gasped as the rag touched his skin, and my heart broke a little. This was my fault, and that made me want to cry. But I didn’t. There weren’t any tears left, anyway.

  “You’re making this harder, you know.” His face was pressed into the mattress, but I could still hear him perfectly.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How can I stop loving you like this?”

  I didn’t answer right away because I was concentrating on wiping the blood away from the deep valleys in his skin. The dried crimson flakes slowly gave way to the light brown of his back, and I was relieved to see that at least he didn’t have an infection. “Just remember that I’m breaking the law so I can be here,” I said, trying to focus on the task at hand so I wouldn’t have to think about the implications of his words. “That will make it easier.”

  He didn’t respond because the fast-acting pain medication had taken its toll. He snored softly, and I was relieved that he couldn’t feel the pain that I caused anymore.

  Forty-five minutes later, I finished wrapping his wounds with fresh bandages and watched him sleep, my mind drifting back to the conversation I had with my First:

  “I can’t believe they did this, Meghan. I’m really sorry.”

  I didn’t respond. It would have been improper if I did.

  “I haven’t told you this,” she said, leaning closer to me, “but I know something about the Doctors that you don’t. I was hoping your relationship with Victor could continue, so that he could help me with a little project I’ve been working on.”

  My curiosity peaked as I continued washing the dishes, my hands covered with warm, soapy water.

  “I won’t explain it now, but I think both of you can help me. And if we’re successful, you and Victor could be together again. Does that sound like something you might be interested in?”

  White suds dripped from my hands as I clutched the porcelain plate with slippery fingers. My heart thudded quickly against my ribcage as I thought about it. I didn’t exactly trust Galilea. I didn’t usually let myself think about that, but I didn’t. She had become suspiciously kind to me after Victor started hanging around, but whatever her motives, what if I could be with him again?

  “Meghan? Will you help me?”

  I took a deep breath before responding. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Excellent,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’m so glad to hear it.”

  Victor woke up with a quiet moan, and I placed my hand on his arm.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  “Better.” He slowly sat up, careful not to disturb his bandages. “Thank you.”

  “I used some of that salve from the bathroom. All those cuts should be closed up by tomorrow. Perks of being a Doctor, right?”

  He smiled slowly, rubbing his temple with his hand. “I guess so.”

  I dropped my eyes to the floor and bit my lip. Did I really want to tell him what I had been thinking? I wasn’t sure if I had the nerve, but I decided to try anyway. “Victor?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Do you think the Council was wrong to punish us? I mean, you were right. There was no statute forbidding a relationship between a Third and a Doctor, and even if there was, why did they whip you instead of me?”

  He searched my face. I couldn’t read his expression, but my palms prickled as I waited breathlessly for his reply.

  Then he sighed, dropping his face toward his lap and his forearms onto his thighs. “Yes, Megs, I think they were wrong. The Council doesn’t exist. It’s the Doctors who run the colonies, and I think our relationship made them nervous. They didn’t end it for moral reasons. They ended it because they were afraid.”

  I felt as though I had run headlong into a brick wall. “What?”

  “The Ten Colony Council never existed, and I’m starting to think that the statutes were never meant to protect or redeem anyone. The ‘Ten’ just wanted to guard their own power.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me this?” I breathed sharply.

  “I was forbidden.”

  “Why are you telling me now?”

  He looked up and patted the bed next to him. I sat down slowly, and he threaded his fingers through mine.

  “I don’t want to follow the law anymore, if it means I can’t be with you.”

  I involuntarily gripped his hand, scarcely allowing myself to believe what I was hearing.

  “Nothing is worth living alone.”

  He leaned over and kissed me gently on the lips.

  I kissed him back, unable to stop myself.

  As he pulled away, he grinned. “So, you feel the same way then?”

  I laughed. “The Council was wrong about this. I guess they could be wrong about everything. Can you believe that Jade and Michael were right all along?”

  “Wow, slow down. One thing at a
time.”

  I dropped my head onto his shoulder, smiling broadly as I clutched his hand. Whatever Galilea needed, we would help her, because I agreed with what Victor had said: Nothing is worth living alone.

  Part Two:

  Mourning for Michael

  Chapter Two

  Gideon breathed evenly on the floor beside me, and my eyes burned as I stared blankly into nothing. The golden light of dawn began to paint the walls of Victor’s luscious, one-bedroom vacation suite, but I hadn’t slept. Not even a little.

  How could I?

  Michael was dead.

  Michael. My Michael.

  Was dead.

  “Please perform a quick autopsy, Dr. Doe. We will be back in the morning to dispose of the body.”

  I gazed in horror at Gideon, who was crammed up against me in the small, dark closet. His face was darkened by shadow and my eyes started to sting.

  Those words. How could that Doctor sound so calm as those evil words dripped from his damned forked tongue?

  I shoved Gideon away and turned toward the door of the closet; I had to see for myself.

  “We will bring you the body of the other rebel, as well. Consider this your first official solo assignment, Dr. Doe.”

  Gideon’s hand shot out and gripped my bicep before I could storm through the door. I glowered up at him, and he shook his head, pressing a finger to his lips and then pointing to the room beyond us. My heart sprinted in my chest, my lungs wouldn’t inflate, and I struggled silently against the restraint of his hand.

  “Congratulations, Doctor. The last remaining rebel has died at your hand.”

  Faint laughter, light footsteps, and then the slamming of a door.

  It had been the longest night of my life. And the Doctor had laughed as he left Victor to declare Michael dead. Laughed because he thought he had won. Laughed because he thought he had wiped all of us out.

  Of course, he didn’t know that he was wrong. There were other rebels that had escaped their blitz, and I refused to believe that only Gideon and I were left. After a long night of staring—and aching, and thinking—I just knew that we couldn’t be the only ones still alive.

  As the Doctors slammed the door, leaving the building, Gideon let go of me, and I tumbled into the operating room.

  Michael lay on a white sheet that was soaked in his blood. His pale chest, exposed to the harsh light that hovered over his body, did not move. He didn’t breathe. The horrible, earsplitting wail that meant his heart had given up stopped abruptly, and I glanced up to see Victor yanking the power chord from the wall, looking shocked.

  Meghan’s face was buried in her hands.

  The scene vanished from my memory as Meghan coughed, and my stinging eyes focused on the room’s one bed, where she and Victor lay. I saw his arm tighten around her, but both of their backs were to me.

  I wondered if either of them had slept. I wanted to believe that they had been as deeply affected as I, but I wasn’t sure that I trusted them yet. Didn’t trust that they still loved Michael as much as I did, no matter what they had said outside the gate.

  “Michael,” I whispered, throwing myself forward. “Michael!” I dropped my head onto his chest and the tears sprung from my eyes with the force of a tsunami. “No,” I sobbed, clutching his cold fingers. “You can’t—this wasn’t—”

  I jumped as a warm hand gently touched my shoulder.

  “Jade, they’re coming back,” Victor said. “I need you to hide.”

  “No.” Michael’s skin was cold under my cheek. “I’m not leaving him again.”

  “He’s gone.”

  Victor’s words felt like a spiked medieval flail, and I spun around and launched myself at him. “Don’t you dare say that!” I screamed, pounding my fists into his chest. “This is your fault! You were supposed to save him!”

  “Jade, you have to be quiet!” Meghan hissed.

  But Victor didn’t stop me. He didn’t grab my wrists or step away, and I collapsed into his shoulder, bawling as I clutched his white coat in my hands.

  His reaction still troubled rather than comforted me. Why hadn’t he fought back? Why had he let me blame him? Because he knew that he was guilty?

  As I watched his back rise and fall gently, a confused concoction of emotions—grief, anger, curiosity, to name a few—swirled inside my chest. After observing him all night and playing the scene over and over again in my head, I still didn’t know if I thought he was at fault. Had he tried his best? Had he tried to save our Michael?

  He had brought us here to safety, after all. He hadn’t told the Doctors we were here—at least, not yet—and I thought I had heard him sniffle once or twice during the long hours that were finally drawing to a close. On top of everything, both he had Meghan had apologized, so maybe he really had done his best?

  Victor’s arms wrapped around me for the first time in forever and he squeezed me tightly. “I’m so sorry, Jade. I tried. I really did. I just wasn’t good enough.”

  “Don’t say that.” Meghan’s voice, though quiet, seemed to thunder from across the room. “Don’t talk like that, Victor, please.”

  I pulled away from him and turned to gawk at her, wiping my nose with the back of my hand.

  That stupid cow. Even now, I didn’t understand how she could be so calm. Her brother was dead. She watched as the life slipped away from him, and she didn’t even cry. Didn’t go to pieces. Didn’t seem to care.

  Ire suddenly rushed through my veins, and I flipped over onto my other side so I wouldn’t have to look at Meghan and Victor anymore.

  How could she be asleep? Why wasn’t she torn apart!

  “I should have called for someone more experienced to help me,” Victor said.

  Meghan’s eyes were dry. She stood up straighter and spoke directly to Victor. “You did the moment you realized the bullet was still inside of him. Besides, he was a Third. No one would have tried as hard as you did.”

  I wanted to scream.

  “Even if he had lived,” she said, “they would have killed him eventually. That’s why we need to do what we came here to do. For Michael. For us. For everyone.”

  Victor nodded slowly, and Meghan flicked a single tear from the corner of her eye.

  A single tear. That’s all she had to spare?

  It was unbelievable.

  No matter how much I thought about it, I could not make sense of what was going on. Why were they even here? What had they come to do? Could they actually avenge Michael’s death?

  I had been so stunned that I hadn’t asked. I just followed Victor silently to this suite, took the blankets he offered me, and lay down on the floor next to Gideon. No one spoke, and by the time my brain got around to verbalizing my questions, they were all asleep.

  “They’re coming back, Ruby Red.” Gideon reached out and touched a strand of my hair, applying the nickname he had always used for me. “We aren’t safe yet.”

  “He’s right,” Victor agreed. “I’ll get you when it’s clear. Please, Jade, you have to hide.”

  Words eluded me as Victor shepherded me back toward the closet and Gideon grabbed my hand and gently pulled my along. The closet door closed with a quiet click in my face, and everything went dark.

  “Come here,” Gideon whispered, pulling me closer to him. “I’m so sorry.”

  I must have been in shock, because I allowed him to wrap his arms around me without a fight, and I buried my face into his shirt.

  “Victor did his best,” he whispered. “I know he did.”

  But how could Gideon know that? He didn’t know Victor. Or Meghan. Or Michael. He couldn’t fully understand the crushing grief that sat in my chest like a literal block of cement, because he barely understood. He wouldn’t miss Michael’s hugs. Or his smile. He didn’t know them like I did. As though he sensed my gaze on the back of his head, Gideon rolled over, his eyes fluttering open heavily.

  “You still awake, Ruby?”

  I nodded.

  He slipped his
arm under my head and I scooted closer, placing my cheek on his chest.

  “Did you sleep at all?”

  I shook my head, and he squeezed me in a small hug.

  “Is there anything I can do?”

  With a shuddering sigh, I managed to silence the sobs that threatened to give us away and nodded against Gideon’s chest in agreement. Maybe Victor had done all he could.

  “They’ll bring in Cameron’s body,” he said into my hair, “and then they’ll leave until morning. You can be with Michael for the rest of the night if you want. Okay?”

  His hand stroked my back comfortingly, but his words twisted into my gut.

  Cameron.

  “Bring back Cameron,” I whispered into his chest, finally responding to his question. “So I can kill him.”

  But I hadn’t answered quickly enough, and he snored gently again.

  Cameron.

  This was all Cameron’s fault.

  He had stolen the gun from Gideon, and when Victor surprised us outside the Doctors’ headquarters, he had tried to shoot him. Michael stepped in and took the bullet instead.

  He shot Michael.

  An almost tangible cloud of regret settled over my brain: I wouldn’t get to kill him for what he did. Cameron was dead, too, and I would never be able to avenge my best and oldest friend.

  My fist clenched, and I flipped over again when I heard rustling.

  Victor was up.

  His eyes were red and puffy as they met mine. With a nod and a yawn, he ran his fingers through his hair and headed for the other room in the suite.

  Meghan didn’t move.

  Settling on my back, I pulled the blankets up to my chin and glared at the ceiling. I didn’t want to sleep. But I didn’t want to talk to Victor, either. All I wanted was to implode into oblivion, because that was the only way to make the pain in my chest stop aching.

  I jumped as the door to the outside world slammed open again, and

  Gideon held me even tighter inside the closet.

  “We have Dr. Max working on the autopsies for the other victims,” an unfamiliar voice said. “We will leave you in charge of the two rebel corpses.”

  Victor’s voice was calm, and if I didn’t know any better, I would have never guessed that one of his childhood friends had just perished under his knife. “The bodies will be ready for disposal by morning.”