Vigilante: A Guard's Tale From Ana's Perspective Read online

  OTHER TITLES BY SARAH FINE

  Young Adult

  Sanctum

  Fractured

  Of Metal and Wishes

  Scan

  Captive (short story)

  Adult Fantasy

  Marked

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2014 Sarah Fine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Skyscape, New York

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Skyscape are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN-13: 9781477877265

  Book design by Tony Sahara

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  CHAPTER ONE

  Heaven turned out to be pretty damn disappointing.

  When the Judge had released her into the Countryside, Ana had been ecstatic. She’d been certain, in those last moments outside the Mazikin nest, as her vision faded and her heart stuttered into stillness, that her future was in the dark city, that she was doomed to wander, lost, without any memory of these years, of all she’d learned. That she’d have to start over.

  But no. The Judge had decided that nearly four decades of service and dying on the field of battle was enough. She’d decided Ana was ready.

  Ana should not have trusted the mischievous glint in the Judge’s eyes. She should have known something was up.

  Because here she was, surrounded by the lushest terrain she’d ever seen. She was sitting on a rocky outcropping, looking out over an emerald sea of grass dotted with the ruby and amethyst buds of flowers, all of it gleaming in the light. People lay in the meadow, laughing and talking, some of them kissing and cradling each other, some of them merely sitting side by side in contented silence. All different skin colors, ages, sizes—the only thing they had in common was their smiles. The sweet scent of grass and lilies, the cool breeze against her skin, the billowy white clouds overhead, the soft rush and babble of a nearby stream … everything was perfect. There was no hunger in her belly, nothing but strength in her limbs.

  But something wasn’t right.

  Takeshi wasn’t here.

  She’d walked straight out of the Sanctum and into a field of flowers, certain he’d be standing right there. Of course, it had been ages since she’d seen him. He’d been taken by Mazikin all those years ago. But Malachi had killed the Mazikin who’d stolen Takeshi’s body, which would have released Takeshi’s soul from their hellish realm. Every night since, Ana had dreamed of the moment she would walk into his arms. Because Takeshi would come for her. He would find her. He would wait.

  Her fist slammed into his stomach, and his breath burst from his throat in a surprised gasp. It wasn’t enough. So she drove her other fist into his side and kneed him in the thigh. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her too close to maneuver, but she twisted and dropped to the floor, rolling away before rising to her feet again. She kept her focus on his hands.

  Looking at his face was always a mistake.

  “Ana. Your opponent’s eyes will tell you his intentions.”

  “Shut up.”

  His soft, amused sigh sent fury shooting through her veins. She drew the baton from her belt and extended it into a staff, throwing herself into the attack. He barely had time to get his own staff up before hers descended, but as soon as he did, she was struggling to keep control. His movements were so powerful, so quick. So controlled. Unlike her, he wasn’t fighting out of anger.

  His staff cracked down on hers, sending a numbing shock reverberating up her arms. “Why don’t you look at me when we spar?” he asked, breathing hard.

  She didn’t answer as she spun to the side and executed a downward strike. He blocked it and jabbed his staff into her shoulder, knocking her off balance. It didn’t hurt. No matter how hard she struck him, no matter how dirty she fought, he never lost his temper, never hurt her in the way she deserved. Malachi was more accommodating. He would happily knock her to the mat, happily elbow the air out of her lungs and leave bruises across her ribs if she pushed him. But Takeshi … he was much less cooperative.

  Her gaze darted up to his face. Strands of his thick black hair hung over his forehead. His eyes, dark and deep, were on her, always on her. His skin, honey-colored and shining with sweat, made her fingers twitch. His mouth curved up at the corners, much softer than the rest of him.

  She avoided looking at him because it was devastating. Confusing. Because she couldn’t hate him when her eyes were on his face. Her staff fell from her hands and she turned away, but he caught her wrist. “We’re not finished.”

  She whirled to punch him, but his hand closed around her other wrist, gently holding her captive. With quick steps, he backed her against the wall, pressing too close to allow her to knee him or kick him, pinning her arms over her head. The rage bloomed in her gut and wrenched the words from her throat, everything she’d been holding back. “I shouldn’t be a Guard! Let them kill me! I don’t care.” She twisted and writhed, but he didn’t loosen his grip, even when she screamed, “Give up, Takeshi! I’m not worth this.”

  “Look at me.”

  “I did that already.” And it had ruined her.

  He chuckled. “Do it again.” And then the humor left his voice completely. “That’s an order, Corporal,” he barked.

  His tone startled her into obedience. He lowered his head until their noses nearly touched. “I will never give up, Ana.”

  It had taken years for her to believe him.

  But the Countryside was a vast place. Maybe even infinite. He could be anywhere in this paradise, and that was why, at first, she’d searched for him. She had no idea how long she’d wandered through the pine-scented forest, the fragrant meadows. She had no idea how many nights she’d spent staring up at the glittering stars. She had no idea how many faces she’d searched, how many young Asian men she’d run up to, hope singing in her chest, only to stumble back as soon as she got close, as soon as they turned their heads. None of them had his grace. None of them looked at her the way he did. None of them had the electric energy, the restless brilliance that crackled and sparked in the air around him. None of them were him.

  He wasn’t here.

  The dawning certainty coiled in her belly like a snake, shifting her insides, squeezing her heart. And then it struck.

  The gray and desolate desert unfurled in front of her like a curtain of ugliness, blotting out the midday sun. Ana blinked. From her perch on the rock, she looked around. No one else in the meadow seemed to see it, even though the sand was oozing its way across the grass. Her heart thundered in her chest as she rose to her feet.

  The desert, lit by a boiling sun hanging in a faintly green sky, was bounded on two sides by jagged peaks that jutted up from the ground and stabbed at the wispy brown clouds above. The mountains were arrayed like teeth in the mouth of a crocodile, forming a long, wide canyon, a path dotted with knots of gnarled trees and craggy low hills. And in the far distance, where the mountains sank into the earth, was a city. It was miles and miles away, but she could see it clearly, its smokestacks belching black smog. A s
plintery, cold fear prickled along her skin and grew like ice crystals in her brain, poking at her thoughts.

  She could be wrong. Deluded. Driven crazy with the grief, with the desperation of her love for a man she hadn’t seen in a decade but who still owned every beat of her heart. Her feet acted before her brain caught up, carrying her off the rock and through the meadow. The grass tugged at her feet and ankles, but it wasn’t enough to slow her down. Her thoughts whirled with something Lela had mentioned once—how she’d been in the Countryside but hadn’t seen the dark city until she was reminded of her friend Nadia. What if this was the same thing? The moment she’d realized Takeshi wasn’t in the Countryside, this miserable, desolate place had appeared in front of her. With a cruel, evil-looking city in the distance.

  “Please don’t let that be it,” she whispered to herself. “Don’t let him be there.”

  When the Mazikin possessed a body, the soul was imprisoned in their hellish realm. She knew that much. What happened after that had been a matter of disagreement and tension between Takeshi and Malachi, one that lasted until Takeshi died. Takeshi had believed the souls were imprisoned indefinitely, that there was no way out, because the Mazikin were not under the authority of the Judge. But at some point before Ana arrived in the dark city, a captured Mazikin had told Malachi that killing a possessed body freed the imprisoned soul from the Mazikin city.

  Malachi had latched onto that possibility like a drowning man. It meant that he could do something for the Mazikin victims. He could free them. All the fighting, the slaughter, the suffering, none of it had to be in vain. And in all the years she’d known him, he’d been a cold, calculating machine, a near-perfect Guard, one who rivaled Takeshi in terms of his strength and cunning. One she’d learned to respect. They’d worked well together. Ana hadn’t been sure she believed Malachi, though.

  Not until Takeshi was taken.

  After that, she’d clung to the possibility that possessed souls could be freed just as desperately as Malachi had. Together, they’d all but exterminated the Mazikin infestation in the dark city, fueled by that fantasy.

  A fantasy was exactly what it was, she realized, staring at the black city crouched beneath the acid sky. Both of them had wanted to believe that they could save Takeshi, that he was at peace, that they had spared him pain and made it possible for him to be free.

  They’d been wrong. Takeshi wasn’t free. He was a prisoner in that city.

  The Mazikin city.

  Mazikin were brutal animals, even if they did look human. Ana could tell by the way they moved, by their four-legged lopes, by their bared teeth and claws. She’d heard their growls and felt their jaws close around her limbs often enough to know they were creatures of hell.

  Creatures of hell that had Takeshi at their mercy.

  Her bare toes curled into rough sand. She was standing at the edge. She had a choice:

  She could spend her days in heaven. Or she could walk into hell.

  Both options were risky. As she stared across the desert, a keening cry drew her eyes up to circling carrion birds, each of them with wingspans longer than a man was tall. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a movement near a massive field of brambles and looked in time to see a hunched creature raise a club and charge forward. She lost sight of him as he dove into some kind of burrow. There were people out there, and animals, too. Anything that lived in a place so inhospitable would be interested in only one thing: survival at any cost. There was a chance she’d never make it to that city, that one of those birds would swoop from the sky and sink its talons through her flesh.

  But if she stayed in the Countryside, she was just as doomed. Takeshi’s face would haunt her forever.

  The Mazikin came from behind her, probably thinking she was a helpless suicide. She might as well have been, for all the fight she gave him. A huge man with slabs of muscle wrapped over iron-thick bones, he crushed her to the ground, grinding the air from her lungs, pinning her arms beneath her so she couldn’t reach her knives. Inky panic washed over her thoughts, and all her training deserted her. Suddenly, she was back on the dirt floor of her parents’ shanty home, having everything that mattered ripped away.

  The Mazikin screamed, long and loud, like a child. He rolled off her, still yowling but the sound was muted by the crash of metal on metal and shuffling feet. He let out an agonized roar; then the floor shook as his body landed heavily next to her, eyes empty.

  Steely arms coiled around her, lifting her from the floor, pressing her against a chest containing a galloping heart. “I heard you cry out,” Takeshi said between ragged breaths. “I guess this building wasn’t deserted after all.”

  She had no words. She was still fighting to pull away from the past. She wrapped her arms around his waist and held on tight, burying her face against the hard leather of his armor. He leaned back and tipped up her chin, and he must have read the terror in her eyes, because he said, “Come back, Ana. I’m here.” His voice was so gentle, frayed with worry but still steady. He held her tight, smoothing his hands up her arms, giving her a reassuring smile when she worked up the courage to look at his face. “I’ve been waiting to do that for a while. Thanks for giving me the chance to rescue you.”

  So many times, in so many ways, Takeshi had rescued her. “I’m going to rescue you this time,” she said, staring at the black city in the distance.

  She clenched her fists and took her first steps into hell.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was like walking through a waterfall, through an unresisting but thick barrier. Straight into an oven. Ana squinted and shaded her eyes, then turned around and peered at what she’d left behind. She could barely see the Countryside now, dimly winking at her through the filmy gray boundary. She put her hand out, and it shrank away from her, pulling paradise out of her reach. There was no going back. She’d made her choice, and that was it. The Countryside was lost to her now.

  She was thankful for that. There was no easy out. And she did relish a challenge.

  She turned and set her eyes on her goal, on that black city in the distance. Miles and miles … she had no idea how far. But the dark city had been vast, and she and Takeshi and Malachi had patrolled it from edge to edge, constantly walking. Or, when Malachi was in charge, running. This would be no different.

  She looked down at her feet. Okay, maybe it would be a little different. She was barefoot. And the only thing covering her body was a simple dress, thin white fabric over her dark skin. This would not do. She’d never thought she’d miss her armor, her fatigues, her boots, but damn.

  The rough, rocky sand gritted between her toes as she started to walk. She’d have to scavenge stuff along the way, if there was anything to scavenge. Her eyes followed the circling birds gradually drifting lower to the ground far up ahead, and she wondered what they were so interested in. She clenched her jaw and began to jog.

  The air was bone-dry, but it sucked hungrily at the sweat on her skin, evaporating it instantly. Her feet slid in the loose sand, making every step feel like ten, eating her energy and forcing her heart into overdrive as the minutes turned to hours. The stifling silence of the place was punctured every once in a while by the piercing shrieks of the birds, but apart from that, the quiet was like a creature, huddling close around her ears, deadening the sounds of other living things. She felt eyes on her, though, tracking her progress, and it sent adrenaline spurting through her bloodstream, turning her muscles steely with determination. Nothing would stop her.

  On either side of her, the craggy mountains loomed, offering no shade, nothing but a sense that the walls were closing in, even though the canyon was at least a mile across. As she ran, her gaze skimmed along the ledges and ridges that scarred the steep rock faces, and she realized there were dark spots—caves. She would bet a lot that the residents of this place made their homes in those caves, hiding out from the brutal tongue of sunlight that seemed hell-bent on singeing the skin off her body.

  A growl and bark coming
from up ahead stopped her in her tracks. Forcing her heaving breaths into silence, she listened hard, her ears capturing the scrape of teeth on bone, the wet ripping of flesh. There was a carcass up there, around the edge of that rocky hill of gravel. And a predator.

  Ana looked around, scouring the sand and brambles and knots of leafless trees … ah. With careful steps, she made her way closer to the hill, straining to hear any interruption in the sounds of carnage, any signal that the predator knew she was there. And when she reached the trees, she found the perfect thing—a branch, smooth, but with the spikes of broken twigs protruding from the end. She hefted it in her hands, took an experimental swing. She could be lethal with this if she needed to be. With a grim smile on her face, she crouched low and peeked around a boulder to see what stood between her and any supplies she might need for her journey.

  The wolf was a scrawny thing. The blades of its shoulders stuck out sharply as it leaned on its forepaws. Its face was buried in the ruins of a person, a man, judging by his build and shape. What was left of him. His clothes were torn, but on his feet … on his feet were boots.

  She looked down at her feet. The bottoms were already blistered and torn, blood seeping between her toes. Her eyes traveled back over her route, and she realized she’d left a faint trail of warm red smears for the last quarter mile or so. That was not good. Bad enough to leave a trail of footprints. A trail of bloody footprints? She was asking for trouble.

  She needed those boots. Now. Clutching her branch, she rounded the boulder. She swung the improvised club, growling fiercely. The wolf’s head whipped up and it bared its teeth. So did Ana. Fear was her enemy, and so all this wolf would get was the predator inside her. It crouched low and snarled, but as she kept moving forward, it backed up. It must have seen what lay in her eyes, the promise that she would destroy it if she had to, the guarantee that she wanted this prize more than she wanted to be safe. After a moment of indecision, the wolf darted for a copse of gnarled trees in the distance, its tail between its legs.