Chapter 33: 32: TRADE

“Adam. I have a barter for you.”

Adam remained hunched on the platform, the stains of Cam’s death a crimson streak across the stage. The color haunted his gaze no matter where he looked and he barely heard Jackal—or more like he didn’t want to hear. He stayed silent to the prompt.

The pistol rested against his thigh, becoming a familiar weight in his grip faster than he ever wanted possible. He didn’t bother to look at the other hostages after Cam was disposed of, or ask to rejoin them in their frightened huddle. He wasn’t one of them anymore, not as long as Jackal sought to use him as an executioner with a target set on anyone ill-fated enough to receive his attention. Jackal had turned Adam into something else.

“I’m sure you’ve seen evidence that Union isn’t always fair,” said Jackal. “Ministry justice gets colored by political drama. Your human attempts at governing a wild planet remains a façade. While you pillaged our planet you introduced your Earth diseases to us. Your kind and your tainted blood have used the proud natives of Ipir as slaves, hungered for our immortal gifts—”

A humorless smile creased Adam’s face. A dry chuckle escaped him, audible and halting Jackal’s rant.

“You’ve got…a lot of nerve,” he muttered. “Saying what you do when you’ve done this tonight. Who knows what more.”

“Truth requires nerve.” Jackal moved around him. “You, your brother, your family line, and every human on your ship that had the misfortune of landing here brought destruction to our native paradise. But, as Master of Sinum—as B’al of the only true sect of Isten Dar, so chosen by our divine prophet—I’ll advise you that humans are the ones who’ll be crushed in the end.”

“We didn’t ask to be here,” retorted Adam. “If we could leave we would fucking leave. Your piece of shit planet won’t let us leave. How many died trying to make launch attempts? Too many! How many shuttle craft failed without explanation before ever reaching orbit? Only burnt pieces remain of the efforts. Blame your precious home for your infestation.” Adam spat his own blood on the ground. “We worked with you for thirty generations. Learned your ways—your culture—and made every effort to cohabitate. You decided you like the taste of our blood on your own—and gave yourselves your own diseases. Your rabidity.” He shook his head, simmering anger muting his steady pain. “You’ve got a disgusting addiction. So much for divine immortality. You look like beasts to me.”

Jackal chuckled. “Hunter propaganda filtered through a child’s tongue. Nothing’s ever your fault, even when you’re wrong. What a functional little tool you are, Adam. Just like Daddy. Bravo. Another Union gem.”

“I’m not wrong. I’m right.”

“Are you?”

“All this…the planning it must have taken you and the expense. The risks. Years in the making, most likely, to get to this moment, and just to end up telling a seventeen year old that life isn’t fair. Hope it was worth it.” Adam heard Jackal’s movements stop. “You're fucking sick in the head, like all parasites. You’re not special or important. If you’re going to kill somebody now because I’m not afraid of you there’s nothing I could possibly do to stop you. Is there?”

“I have a barter for you, Adam,” repeated Jackal. “A trade.”

“Why would I trade with you?”

“An agreement made with a direct descendant of the prophet—both by blood and bite—is unbreakable. There’s an ancient honor to our ways.”

Jackal paused when Adam snorted.

“Ancient honor. Okay.”

“Yes.” Jackal nodded. “Honor that even a wretched creature like you could appreciate, provided the right inspiration.”

Adam settled onto the stage, sinking into a stark acceptance of death. Any death. All death. His own, too, at the hands of Jackal at any moment.

“Not fucking interested.”

“Even if it involves Talitha?”

Talitha. Flashes of the redhead—her fear, her defeat at the hands of the criminal in front of him, her silent cries—returned to Adam quickly. He glanced at Jackal, who laughed knowingly at his shift in attention.

“So you’re interested. I thought that might do the trick. Even you have a weakness and it’s that child of mine. She’s beautiful, Adam. She pleases me as much as she pleases you.”

Adam narrowed his lids, imagining the wildlander’s face blasting open just as Cam’s face had violently split. His fingers twitched against the weapon resting on his thigh.

“Adam,” said Jackal. “I’ll decide whether Talitha lives or dies. There are times when dying is easier than living and that’s another choice I’ll make for her. For you.”

“What is it?” Adam adjusted his shoulders, his back and neck burning with strain. “You know I want you to leave her alone.”

“I do. And that’s all that matters now. What you want—or rather, how much you want it.”

“Just talk,” spat Adam. “Tell me what I have to do to get her away from you. Everything you say is garbage and you twist words. There’s no point because you’re out of your fucking mind. You make zero sense, except to your cult and the voices in your head.”

“Ether’s the lifeblood of our planet,” said Jackal calmly. “It’s the lifeblood of we natives as well. Filters through the roots of El-Akalut, our great tree, and sustains native life on Ipir. A true miracle. At the break of Harvest, Sin-Dar and Sin-Mut will ascend to the sky. The one true sect Sinum will replenish El-Akalut’s force with a true blood sacrifice. This has been ordered by word of the prophet.” Jackal’s unblinking black gaze bore into Adam from a few paces away. “You're the blood sacrifice this Harvest, Adam. My sacrifice. All of this was prepared for your great moment, and all of this evening’s pain will be channeled through you.”

“You told me that already, that you want to kill me. You say the same shit over and over and have nothing new to add. I get it—you want to cut my head off, slaughter everyone, run rivers of blood for the roots of the great tree. Something holy about murder for your type. Just tell me what I have to do for you to free Talitha—what is it? What the fuck do you want?” A ragged breath escaped Adam. “Talk! Talk! Fucking talk!”

“You have to die,” replied Jackal, still calm. “How you die is up to you, whether it’s by my hand or your own.” The rebel leader moved a slow step closer. “I won’t take the gun from you, even though I see you’re eager to use it against me. Perhaps you’re fantasizing about shooting me like you shot the others, this time with true passion and intent.”

“Why won’t you take the gun?”

“I want you to shoot Elias.” Jackal smiled when Adam chortled. “Yes. That’s funny to me too. The thought makes me laugh.”

“You want me to shoot my brother,” repeated Adam.

“Right. I’ll draw him close enough so that you won’t miss, even though you’re an awful shot.”

“And how does that make me die? How will that make me a sacrifice?”

“You’ll die a different way. Brother executing brother. A death of your mortal soul.”

“Oh.” Adam snickered. “Sure. Makes sense.”

Jackal nodded. “So you’ll kill Elias.”

“No.” Adam’s strange and sudden humor, a burst that even he couldn’t control, continued as he spoke to Jackal. “He’s a hunter,” Adam snickered. “I’m a senior at Cloverland Academy. I’ll miss and he’ll shoot me instead. That’s how things will go.”

“I’m fine with that outcome.” Jackal shrugged. “Intent’s a major part of a successful sacrifice, it’s not only form. Chaos provides additional excitement. As long as one of you experiences great tragedy then the ritual’s complete.”

Adam wiped fluid that collected at the corner of his swollen eye and grimaced at the pain of his own touch, licking away blood that had crusted on his lip again. “Ha," he said. "How much more tragedy can you possibly cause after this? At least I’ll end up dead while the two of you settle old grudges. Better yet…maybe everyone will shoot everyone else, settling this in some cosmic showdown where everyone will die.”

“I won’t die,” replied Jackal. “If you fulfill your end of the deal Talitha won’t die either. I’ll return her to Silatem safe, whole, and untouched.”

“You can’t keep that promise. Once Union’s response shows up you’re finished. You’ve seen they’re here, even if you managed to surprise the crew of a single police vessel. It’s only a matter of time before your game's over. Where’s Talitha?”

“I can keep my promise, Adam. I won’t be finished, not by silly human forces or methods. I’m sure Elias is quickly learning that lesson—why I remind him often that on our planet my people are immortal and that fact matters.” Jackal raised his arms, showcasing his solid form and marked, scarred flesh. “I’ve returned from the fire and I’ll do it again. My word's sealed. However—” Jackal’s words slowed so impart additional meaning to Adam. “If you reject our deal I’ll unleash hell for Talitha. You’ll be dead and she’ll beg me for the same. I won’t oblige. I’ll enjoy every moment of her devastation. She’ll become a warrior for me forged through unending fire.”

“You’re disgusting,” hissed Adam.

“To you. Perhaps.”

“To anyone decent.”

“Decent. Ah…decent, like Elias. Right? That hero of a captain.” Jackal smirked. “I suppose you think Elias might go save the girl for you. I assure you he won’t—because he hasn’t been paid to care. She’ll be another statistic from tonight and one of the easiest to explain away. No family for her as a child. No friends in quarantine to ease her sorrow—only days of solitude living an animal existence in Union’s care. A romantic partner who brought her suffering and left her in her current state. Only you really cared about her—loved her, even. Hoped she might love you the same way. Your dance to that hymn was delightful. Am I right?”

“Where is she?”

“Waiting. For you. Oh, and Adam…” Jackal pointed the scimitar. “There’s one more way to complete this deal. One that you may choose at any point to assure that girl’s future. You can do it now, if you’d like. If you have the nerve.”

Adam’s gaze moved from Jackal to the stage floor. He was tired of listening to insanity. Tired of trying…to understand anything from Jackal at all. Why a hostile—a rebel—thought the way he did.

“Kill yourself.”

Despite Adam’s attempts to maintain a level head he felt another heavy, unseen weight descend over him. The hostages sitting meters away from him made noise, maybe reacting to what they were hearing, though he couldn't handle their desperation alongside his own.

He was…alone.

Cam’s blood turned dark as it dried onstage. The way he expired left a ghostly imprint of his body even after the rebel dragged him off the stage, smearing away the perfect silhouette of Cam’s head and shoulders. Sprays from Adam’s shot spattered pieces of Cam farther than he expected, with parts of the mess reaching the hostages huddling in grim silence. Stenches of death permeated every molecule of the air and pungent odor became just the way things smelled. A stink that would never go away.

A flicker in the lights of the rotunda caught Adam’s attention. He turned his head at the disturbance, following Jackal’s movements with his gaze. The flickering intensified and a discordant whine, one that sounded like the aggravating feedback similar to the one that cut through the temple earlier, pealed through the rotunda again. Hundreds of parasites fell in a single swoop as if they’d been swatted down by a giant unseen hand, just as he’d seen before with Talitha. The flickering became darkness and soon the only sound left was the blaring whine of piercing interference.

Adam’s eyes opened wide in the pitch black. He looked around though he couldn’t see a thing. The light flickered back on at full strength and his eyes adjusted to the sudden brightness before total blackness swallowed the rotunda once more. This time he jumped up, bolting to his feet, and charged forward into a streaking run across the stage.

Lights returned immediately. Adam’s legs thundered for the edge of the stage to throw himself off but his peripheral caught sight of similar movement nearby—another figure rapidly fleeing, except towards the opposite end of the stage where the western stairs lay. It was Charles running—and Adam had only a split second to react to the sight.

He watched the rebels aim at Charles. His arms flew up without thinking, firing rounds at the hostiles, blasting a series of shots right as the rebeks loosed ammunition at Charles.

Attention—confusion—returned among the rebels, this time in Adam's direction. He threw himself forward, rolling across the stage toward the edge, and a bark of native tongue halted the fire. Within another second, just as he felt the sharp corner of the stage’s edge digging into his back and the start of his precarious fall to ground level, Adam found himself quickly hurtling meters upward into the air and moving out of his control. A strong grip seized him up and he groaned when he was dropped from that height, slamming back into the stage face and body first. His sounds of pain were silenced in a huff of air as he was lifted again, this time by the back of the neck and to stand.

A heavy boot kicked him in the back of his legs, fcracking him down to his knees. Adam's eyes shut tight as his arm was wrenched behind his back, twisted with such force that he was sure it would break, leaving him no choice but to drop the firearm he was holding.

“F-fuck—” he uttered, spittle striking his chapped lips. “F-f—”

Breath whipped out of him as fingers clutched his hair, yanking his head back until he was choking. Short, ragged exhales huffed from his chest as he felt the razored edge of Jackal’s weapon graze against throat. Adam swallowed hard, wincing as the sharp blade scraped his skin, drawing a streak of wet. The piercing feedback faded as he knelt, unmoving, not daring to breathe.

“It’s going to hurt now, Adam,” said Jackal, the threat muffled to Adam’s still-ringing ears. “Every tear that falls—and when she has no more tears left—remember it was your fault. You had a choice. This was the decision you made.”

Adam’s arms hung at his sides. They were heavy. He didn’t move them or any part of his body. Each of the labored breaths he was forced to take dragged his skin against the blade and scraped the wetness along his throat with each inhale. His lids dropped although the strain of Jackal’s hold didn’t allow him to shut his eyes.

He could see from his position some lights remained flickering. Most of the others were off. The entrance he’d entered with Gracie seemed thousands of kilometers away—maybe the sun-bleached wildlands were right outside that door now. Adam understood he wouldn’t be leaving the temple—that he was supposed to die there. Die like his father did on Harvest those years ago. This was his end.

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And Talitha…

He’d failed. Failed her. Couldn’t keep his promise. He failed…everyone.

The rebels shifted position around the stage and bootsteps descended in pursuit of Charles. Native tongue rattled beside Adam from one of the rebels and Jackal responded in the same wildland speak, his response short and angry. Frothing noises from the bodies convulsing on the floor and in the rotunda filled the space with sound.

Jackal belted out another portion of his hymn and the sound curdled Adam’s blood. He waited for the cut that would end him while hundreds of trembling bodies shuddered from every side and angle.

His head tilted to the side as Jackal jerked him into position, shifting the angle of the scimitar while laughing quietly, and he collapsed as the blade pressed against his throat. Strange jolts of memories flitted by and overlapped in his mind in a single streaming instant.

His mother and his father holding him when he was just a small boy, the bittersweet years of his childhood that followed and after that, he was in his dorm at school in Juniors. That’s when he started played the fencing games for P.E. credits and also attended lots of student parties outside of class. Girls…he’d met lots of them over the years. Pretty girls, all of them so eager to know him and his family’s legacy, and another girl that lingered in his thoughts. A sweet and sunny girl who made him say and do stupid things whenever she smiled. He’d loved her for so long in silence, a friend at first and one of his closest. Someone he never, ever had to be anyone but himself around.

Then…he saw Elias. Adam remembered Elias. The Silatem president was often harsh with little patience, showing him things and teaching him things because their father wasn’t around and never would be again. Things that Adam needed to know as a man—Elias made sure Adam understood whether he liked it or not. Adam remembered when Elias held him as a boy, especially in the years right after John was killed to ease their mother’s strain. Although after time…Elias also disappeared.

“Sometimes things suck. Nothing you can do about it. Quit bitching.”

That’s what Jonah used to say if the lot of them sat around sulking at Astro’s for too long. Joe was right that life could always be worse. They might as well move on. Complaining was a waste of time and that’s how Adam would handle the moment before his death, just as Joe advised—he’d move on. Deal with things the way they were. This was how he’d end and there was nothing he could do about it.

When things were over…they were over.

“Elias.”

Adam heard Jackal’s voice boom, resonating within the rotunda with deep volume.

“Is that you?”

Adam's gaze rolled to the side. The movement was painful within their swollen sockets. Elias. That’s the name Jackal said. But…no. It didn’t matter. Even if it was true, that Elias was finally there, Adam was supposed to die.

He couldn’t see anything with his head wrenched back in Jackal’s grip except for the rigging above the stage and the glass dome ceiling of the rotunda. The skies were a stormy gray, occluding Central District’s steady sunlight, and within the murky darkness a subtle double glow indicated that zero hour—and the twin moons that would beam their light perfectly into the temple through the dome—were arriving shortly.

“Elias,” said Jackal again. “You’re here. At last. Let’s begin.”

A rugged voice, short and husked with wear from many smokes over many years, projected out onto the main floor, amplified by suit mechanics.

“Drop the blade, Jackal,” replied the gruff male. “Or there’s nothing to say.”

“Drop the blade?” Jackal laughed, sliding the metal across Adam’s flesh to draw new pain and blood. “He’s going to die, Elias, right in front of your filthy face.”

“I’ll kill him first.”

Adam’s heart chilled at the response.

No doubt now…that Elias was there.

“Is that right?” mused Jackal. “Interesting.”

“Not for you. No satisfaction. No grandstanding. Clears the way for you and I to finish business. I have men stationed here, watching you from every angle, and I’ll make you pay for forcing me to shoot him. None of you will leave here alive—except you. Because I’ll be taking you back to Silatem to continue showing you my hospitality.”

“This temple’s wired with explosives,” said Jackal. “It’s you, Elias, and your men that won’t leave this place alive.”

A scoff of a laugh in return. “Are you sure your detonators are still active? Looks like you’re having some technical difficulties. I wouldn’t rely on any implemented systems at the moment, especially if you’ve made your bets on remote triggers.”

Energy danced in Jackal’s responses like he was making light exchanges with an old friend.

“I expected to lose some capabilities with your arrival. I know how you hunters operate—what you use to turn tides in your favor. Others parts of my plan are still working and there are manual ways to get things done.”

“Which parts are working? How will you execute a goddamned thing from that stage with no way out?”

“All will be revealed, Elias.”

“More cheap detonations, then. Rehashing the same old plot you used to steal the damn weapons in the first place.”

Jackal laughed darkly once more. “Doesn’t matter how novel you find my ideas. Bloodshed is bloodshed and chaos is chaos. That’s what’s most important for this holiday. What our divine Mother Ipir demands.”

“Not true. If you wanted me blasted you would’ve detonated the moment I walked out here. Yet we’re talking, you’re making threats, and my brother’s head is still on his shoulders.”

A gunshot zipped past Adam and he hopped in alarm despite himself, grunting with fear as the bullet tore into the stage right beside his leg. He winced as the blade cut into him again.

“That was a warning,” continued Elias. “Your only one. If you slice him there are no more words between us. Your fate's sealed. I won’t care what else happens tonight besides making you pay. So let him go and we’ll try something else.”

“Hm.”

Jackal moved the blade and shifted Adam’s head forward, allowing him to see who was speaking from the main floor. Adam spotted a sole figure in the armored suit of their family’s company standing within the piles of bodies that were once Altir’s graduating senior class. Despite having little to do with the Pendergast’s hunting business Adam recognized on the armored figue the design, devices, and weapons implemented by Silatem—work he’d reviewed himself with the little clearance he held under his identity.

Despite despair crushing down, a faint glimmer of hope appeared in him at the sight of Elias—hope he’d forgotten could exist. Death was still possible from all sides including his own, but at least he knew Elias wouldn’t let him suffer. Elias wouldn’t let Jackal cut him like their father was cut, or let Jackal take his head as a prize.

“Looks like you’re damaged, Raia,” said Elias. “Those scars…nasty. Some bad burns. Wonder where you got them. I can arrange medical attention if you’re in need.”

“Please, Elias. Try harder. Ten piglets remain on this stage ripe for slaughter and each one means so much to you…and so little to me. But if I kill any of those over there you won’t react, not as long as I’m holding this one. He’s the one you want to save the most.” Jackal tapped the blade against Adam’s face. “That’s shameful in a complex way. But you’ll still claim that you’re the one hunting beasts.”

“He’s alive,” said Elias, his own aim unflinching from his position. “So are the others. We’ve been talking for a full minute and you haven’t acted—only run your mouth. Must be something else you want if you went through the trouble of collecting hostages. I don’t mind continuing this conversation but I made clear what my terms are for a talk. We’re not continuing if those terms aren’t met.”

“I don’t want anything, Elias,” replied Jackal.

“Then why? Why keep anyone alive? You pulled off your plan tonight. Makes no sense to slow things down now.”

“Once he dies the fun’s over. That’s all. I hate premature climaxes. Don’t you?”

“Sounds like a problem on your end, Raia,” retorted Elias. “I’m fine in that department.”

“Ah.” Jackal chuckled. “Still the same petulant boy that betrayed me so long ago in Widow. What a fool I was to hold you so close, though I’m glad to see you’ve remained familiar. And…my name’s not Raia. Stop saying it. You grate my nerves when you say it.”

“No. You’re right.” The helmet bobbed up and down, nodding. “Your name’s not Raia. That’s some crap you made up to hide in front of our faces all this time, a quaint little anagram of your actual identity. Used insiders to help you create that clown ID and get you a diplomat role. Love to know who has that kind of pull and how involved they are with tonight. What their end-goal might be. I’ll find that out, buddy. I’m coming for them too.”

“Who am I, Elias?”

“Akil.”

Adam’s eyes widened at the mention of the name though he couldn’t move or react. That made no sense. Akil was dead. The butcher that slaughtered Admiral John Pendergast, a newly elected Union General—his father—was dead. Said so in official Union records. Capitol City even threw a parade for the death of Akil and for the end to the Time Of Trouble. What Elias said…was impossible.

Jackal sucked his teeth with disappointment. “No, no, no. Akil’s dead, Elias. That’s what your human government told you. It’s part of the reason you celebrate this season so raucously. Celebrating what you believe is victory.”

“Akil’s not dead. He’s here now because you’re Akil. You’re Imram. Imram Ylasema. Master of Sinum, the pureblood from Vangral—direct descendant by blood and bite from the prophet. Right? Over one thousand years old and counting.” The muzzle remained unmoving on Jackal. “You…killed my father.”

“Again, Elias,” said Jackal firmly. “Akil’s dead. Imram’s dead. Those entities are shed like useless scales. I’m Jackal, devourer of mortal flesh, gourmandizer of human souls. That’s all you may call me now.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” snapped Elias. “Whatever your ego demands you call yourself, I know who—and what—you are. You’re right that you’re dead, because that’s exactly how I’ll leave you when I’m through with you. This time, for good.”

“Elias.” A calm, serene tenor took over Jackal’s tone. “I’ll release the boy. But first, I have a term of my own if you’d like to continue talking.”

“What term?”

“Remove your helmet. Allow my men to take aim like your men took aim on me. My army will face your army. That would be fair.”

“One misfire and you’re done. I’ve got more than disruptors to ruin your day. You’re not the only one that knows how to light up a room.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” said Jackal. “It’s why I worked so hard to bring you here. Let’s settle the bad blood once and for all. What do you say, my prodigy? A child once as close to me as my own kin. A shining star for the Sect of Sinum and a true…killer. What I remember of you, boy, and what you did at my command would make your own denizens call for your head. Like father…like son.”

“I did what I had to do to ruin your fucking day. I’ll do it again with pleasure.”

Adam watched Elias lower the rifle and shift it behind him, slinging it to his back. Gloved hands reached up to the visored helmet and touched either side of it, releasing the locks. The helmet unlatched to reveal a man underneath, one dirtied from action, burnt by the sun, more weathered and angular than Adam remembered. However, that man was unmistakable—and it was the same face Adam had, a mix of their mother’s and father’s features. Those piercing blue eyes—Adam had them too.

“Ah. Elias. Welcome back.” Jackal removed the blade from Adam’s throat and shoved him to the floor. “This is wonderful. Now everyone can shoot everyone else and we’ll all die together, like one big happy family.”

Adam dragged himself away from Jackal, scrambling to put distance between them. He froze when a nearby rebel shifted to aim at him and the pistol he’d dropped earlier remained on the stage a few paces away. His mind returned to Talitha as well as Jackal’s threat, that she’d suffer while Elias would consider her another statistic for the evening.

“Please come closer,” said Jackal to Elias. “It’s difficult to hear you from that distance without the amplification of your helmet. I’m not so young anymore—the centuries have caught up with me. However, I’m a man of my word and you know that well. Once I’ve given a vow I hold it to the grave…and beyond.”

Elias paused for a moment before moving a few paces closer to the stage. Adam eased himself closer to the pistol, his fingertips grazing the weapon. Jackal’s attention remained on the approaching hunter.

Not much time for Adam to act. Once again, the decision on what to do was his alone.

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