“I thought you were better than them.” Juniper stood behind Agatha, chest heaving. “But you’re not.” She wrenched the knife out of Agatha’s middle. It clattered to the ground as Agatha crumpled. The sun shone through the window behind her, lighting her hair up like fire.
Juniper sniffled in a breath and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. Then she sat in one of the chairs and ducked her head.
Agatha made wet, horrible sounds. She pressed her hands to her belly as if she could stop her lifeblood from pumping out, but it was too much. So much. Foul and dark. Nate shuffled past her, dragging himself by his elbows, and went to where Ivy was on her side against the wall.
His wrecked hands smeared blood all over Ivy’s neck and her clothes as he felt for her heartbeat—for any sign of life. He couldn’t feel anything. Only pain.
It hurt so much.
He pressed his face against her middle and choked on a raw cry. She didn’t move. Alden sprawled out on the floor where Ivy had left him, utterly still. They were gone. A great big hole opened up in Nate, as if Juniper had stabbed him too, and carved out everything he needed to breathe.
Ivy coughed.
Nate lifted his head weakly, sure he’d misheard.
Her eyes fluttered open, gray mirrors to his own. Confused, scared—and then wet with relief. “Nate.”
All the strength left in him snuffed out. “Mom!” he cried. His arms trembled violently as he reached for her like a child.
She gathered him up in a fierce hold, and he sobbed, no longer aware of anything but pain and the steady rush of her breath.
“I’ve got you, Nate.” She rocked him, again and again. “I’ve got you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
James took Nate outside in the clear light to work on his hands. Ivy held him on the steps, brushing a wet cloth against his face over and over. The chill of it drew Nate from the haze of the chem James had given him.
Nate drifted, wondering if it would feel better if they simply chopped his hands off.
“I’ve never done sutures on burned flesh,” James muttered, hunched over Nate’s hand where it lay on a towel in his lap. He’d put a thick salve along the deep cuts from Agatha’s knife, so that all Nate felt from the mending was the long, slow pull of the thread. The burns were the worst of it, relentless. Screaming.
His hazy attention turned to the street, where Reed was still talking to the neighbors. The woman who’d been nursing her toddler stood with the little one strapped to her back with a colorful blanket. She held a wooden staff with a knife strapped to the tip. An older boy stood beside her with a pipe Nate recognized as the one the man with the neck tattoo had held. A dozen more gathered around Reed, who stood with his shoulders back and proud. Reed’s eyes were bright as he spoke, too far for Nate to hear. A soft flutter of affection made Nate smile. People listened to Reed. Trusted him. Followed him.
The bodies of the Breakers were two doors down in the middle of the street. Burning.
Sparks jogged over. She’d kept Pixel hidden on the roof—only the two of them had been left unscathed. “Good thing we never scavenged around here. These folks would have beaten our heads clean off and roasted us in the morning.”
Ivy’s arms tightened around Nate. She hadn’t let go of him once since she’d woken up from Agatha’s attack. “Hard-won peace is the most difficult to shake.”
“The Breakers won’t come this way again,” Sparks said.
If there were even Breakers anymore. Reed and Brick had taken Agatha’s body to the nearest main intersection and left it there. It was cruel, but it was their only chance to make sure the message got to the right people as quickly as possible.
Those who ran for the Breakers had no one left to pay them. No one to supply them with chem. As soon as Nate could get his hands on a ticker, he’d rig it to send the same message as often as he could.
He wasn’t stupid enough to think someone wouldn’t try to rise in her place, but they wouldn’t have GEMs or good chem to bargain with.
“Are you almost done?” Nate asked, hoarse—his throat swollen from Agatha’s sharp blow.
“Trust me, you want this done correctly,” James said, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Especially in your trade. Even with my best work, it’ll be weeks before you can work. And you’ll have to stretch your hands and oil them every day if you expect to keep your grip.”
“It can’t be weeks,” Nate whispered.
They didn’t understand. Alden was dead, and Nate was outside in the sun like a sleeping gull. As soon as his head was clear, he’d get to work setting up better security for Ivy House.
And figuring out how to save Pixel from wanting for Remedy.
James finished with the needle and wiry thread. He coated Nate’s palms and fingers with another greasy layer of salve before wrapping them with so much soft cloth that Nate looked like he was wearing steamed buns for hands.
