The City on the Edge
Seventeen

“You?”

Sebastian looked surprised to see her. When she’d last left him on the abandoned playground, she had tried to make it clear that they wouldn’t be seeing each other again and now, here she was, the hands of fate pushing them at each other once more.

He took her in from head to toe- the dirt on her face, the bruises blossoming under the merciless grip of the guards and the glint of gold around her wrists. Ronnie watched his expression go from surprise to shock and finally to anger as he took everything in. A guard shoved her from behind to keep following and Sebastian was suddenly moving ahead, quickening his stride to match Sloan’s purposeful gait.

“Sloan.”

“Yes?”

Sebastian huffed as he hurried to keep up. “Why are you holding this girl here?”

Ronnie tried not to bristle at being called a girl. She was grown woman, after all. At least, she considered herself that way. She even had a few inches on Sebastian.

She stamped down on her pride. Sebastian means well, she told herself. She wasn’t sure what sway he thought he had but she hoped it was something.

“She’s a criminal,” Sloan answered without stopping.

They turned another corner. Sebastian didn’t slow down. “I want her released.”

That made Sloan pause. He turned and looked down at Sebastian, pinning him with an unkind stare. Sloan probably looked down on everyone, Ronnie figured while she watched the exchange. It was a wonder his head hadn’t toppled off yet.

“You want her released? This criminal?”

“Yes.”

The barest hint of a smirk quirked over Sloan’s lips. “And why is that, if I may be so bold as to ask. Is it because of your fondness for her?” Sloan savored the word as if it were a delectable sweet. Sebastian flushed and Sloan chuckled. “You are full of surprises.”

Sebastian didn’t respond right away, clearly considering his words. Perhaps he hadn’t anticipated Sloan knowing that, if it were true at all. Was it though, Ronnie wondered. They hardly knew each other. They’d only met twice but Sebastian had already sought her out once of his own volition and now here he was, standing toe to toe with Sloan of all people demanding her freedom. This weak, frail human was actually trying on her behalf. Ronnie’s interest was piqued, however begrudgingly.

When Sebastian finally answered, his gaze burned with something Ronnie hadn’t attributed to him before- strength. “I want her released because I want her released. I am not blind or deaf, Sloan. I hear the rumors. You may be in charge of the Edge, but you are in charge under another body of authority. Authority that will hear of this.”

The smirk on Sloan’s face widened. “Blackmail? Dear boy, by the time that fragile threat gains any traction, you will already be on the train home back to your father.”

“And my father will hear of this.” Sebastian declared firmly.

Sloan leaned down, inches from Sebastian’s face. His eyes were wide with a near manic glee, the first real emotion that Ronnie had seen from the otherwise stoic man. For some reason, this exchange, this revelation, was something he enjoyed. She shivered despite the firm hand of the guard holding her.

“On whose orders do you think these operations are conducted, boy?” Sloan asked, his voice a near whisper.

Sebastian took a step away from him, deflating under implications that were lost on Ronnie. Human politics escaped her interest. He looked lost now, unsure of what else he could do. Sloan straightened up, done with the conversation. He turned and continued on his way down the hall. Ronnie met Sebastian’s gaze as she passed. He opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, maybe offer her reassurance that she’d be fine, but nothing came out. A deep frown twisted across his lips as he watched her leave.

Oh well. It wasn’t like she had hoped for much from him.

Sloan led her through a large and open kitchen, cavernous compared to the one at home, with ovens and dishes and a wide variety of ingredients that would have Constance hopping around in wonder and excitement. No one loved cooking more than her and she had taken it upon herself to prepare the meals for the entire family. The thought of Lorna’s boisterous sister made the reality of Ronnie’s current situation ache. There was a very real chance that she would never see Constance or anyone else in the family again. Doubt began to creep into her chest with tight fingers that made every beat of her heart feel like a chore.

There was a very real chance that she would die here.

A guard pulled open a sleek silver door set into the wall so cleanly that it was nearly seamless and Sloan took her down a flight of dark steps made of crooked stone that threatened to crumble under her weight. Cobwebs covered the sconces on the walls, lit sparingly, and the flickering flames did nothing to warm against the chill as they descended deeper. How far underground were they going?

The feeling of unease roiling around in Ronnie’s gut grew as silence pressed in around her. The damp, moist air clung to her skin like a sheen of sweat and she longed to scrub it away. She flexed against the shackles and as she expected, they didn’t give. She knew they wouldn’t but it still felt good to resist in some way.

Darkness shrouded the bottom of the stairs, so thick that Ronnie didn’t realize Sloan stood in front of a door until he pushed it open. Dim light filtered through along with a pungent, sickly sweet scent strong enough to make Ronnie hold in her breath. Maybe it would be a blessing to not have her sensitive nose down here.

The guard behind her shoved hard against her shoulder, and for the briefest moment, she swore she felt something missing from his hand. She followed Sloan into the room, biting down on the growl shifting around in her throat. She was getting really tired of being pushed around by whoever trailed behind her.

Thick vines and gigantic red petals were the first thing Ronnie noticed when she stepped over the threshold. It was impossible not to. A blooming flower, the color of a summer sunset and as large as the sitting room back home, had taken root in the ceiling. Its thorny vines dipped beneath the stone and twisted and spiraled across the walls, weaving through the bars of cells and burrowing beneath stone. Smaller red blossoms dotted the vines and every surface in the dungeon was covered in a fine yellow powder.

Pollen, Ronnie realized. She noticed the little yellow specks that floated down like snow were already settling on her arms and clothes.

Sloan motioned to a guard and pointed to an open cell. The rough hands unceremoniously shoved her forward. She nearly tripped over the loose stones inside and turned to face Sloan as the bars clanged shut. He stood at attention, with his hands behind his back as he observed her.

“Step forward,” he spoke after a stretch of uncomfortable silence.

Ronnie didn’t move.

“Do not test my patience, girl. Step forward so that the shackles may be removed. They aren’t needed down here.”

It unnerved her how certain he appeared, but the prospect of having her mobility returned was enough for Ronnie to comply. She stepped up to the bars and held out her hands. She expected Sloan to snap his fingers and have a guard take them, as he had guards doing everything else, but he surprised her by reaching through the gap and releasing the shackles himself. Even through his gloves, she could feel the chill of his skin when his fingers brushed over her wrists, like the man was made of cold winter. The moment her hands were free she darted back away from the bars, pressing herself against the wall.

Like a rush of wind from a storm, sound came back to her. Heartbeats and pulses and the pull of air into lungs. Rustling uniforms and the clink of metal accompanied every movement made by the guards. Ronnie inhaled deeply, taking in the scents around her- stale air, filth and earth. There were shifters in the others cells. Only shifters, as far as she could tell. It was difficult to hide the relief on her face as her senses returned to her.

If Sloan found her actions amusing, he didn’t show it. The mania he’d shown Sebastian had vanished and been replaced by the mask of disinterest he always wore. He handed the shackles off to someone outside of her view and turned to leave without another word to her. She heard the sound of stomping boots follow him and wood scraping against stone as the door she’d come through slammed shut. A still quiet fell over the room. No one left but the prisoners.

“He’s leaving us alone down here?” she asked aloud.

An answer she hadn’t expected came from the cell next to hers. “It’s not like we’re going anywhere.” A woman’s voice said, still pitched high from unspent youth.

Ronnie pressed her face to the bars, hoping to get a peek into the cell next to hers, to maybe see who her neighbor was, but all she could see was black bars and stone. “What’s your name?” she asked instead.

“Cecily. Yours?”

“Veronica.”

Ronnie craned her neck to see past the vines stretching over the other cells. Silhouettes were slopped on the floor or leaned against the walls, but no other voice chimed in.

Are they even alive?

“Don’t bother with the others,” Cecily said, as if she knew what Ronnie was doing. “It’s been quite down here for a while.”

“Are they…dead?”

Cecily actually laughed, a hollow and bitter sound. “No. I bet they wish they were, though. Don’t you feel it yet? I felt it right away.”

“Feel what?”

A hand reached out through Cecily’s bars. Long fingers on a narrow wrist spread wide and covered in a layer of pollen. “The pollen. That’s a vita blossom, straight from the Glowing City. It sucks the strength right out of us. That’s why Sloan took the shackles away. I’m surprised you don’t feel it yet, but you will.” Cecily pulled her hand back through bars with a defeated sigh. “Trust me on that.”

Ronnie heard her shift around in her cell and did the same, leaning back against the thick metal bars. She examined what her living space for the foreseeable future had to offer. No bed. No blanket. No window. Just cold stone and an insulting drain in the corner. The caked on filth twisted Ronnie’s stomach. She wasn’t the first person to occupy this cell and it seemed that the guards didn’t clean in between vacancies. The grime she sat in belonged to someone else.

Someone else who is probably dead, a cruel voice in her head said.

A cold shiver shot up her spine. How long would it be before that some one else was her? What did Sloan want with her? What did he want with any of the supernaturals he had locked up?

“Do you know what he wants with us?” Ronnie asked aloud, willing to take any answer.

There was a long pause before Cecily answered. “He’s going to destroy us.”

Ronnie wiped the nervous sweat from her hands. Her fingers dipped into her pocket and she pulled out the little coin she’d forgotten she still had. She’d been afraid to leave it anywhere the kids at home could replace it. The torchlight gleamed on the silver surface, illuminating the crowned P. She pressed her thumb over it, smearing a bit of the pollen that coated her fingers.

For a moment, she wondered if the rumors were true and if Sloan could possibly be a member of Purity, still actively hunting down supernaturals. A look around her surroundings and the tightness in her gut was all the answer she needed.