The City on the Edge
Eighteen

Ronnie jolted in place, startled and she quickly sat up. The hairs on her arm stood on end and she looked around frantically for a moment, forgetting where she was. Somehow, in this horrible place, she’d managed to fall asleep against the bars of her cell. Something had awoken her suddenly, though she wasn’t sure what it was.

She clutched at her chest and willed her heart to stop beating so furiously, failing when she heard a shrill sound that pierced the silence. A scream, so loud and terrified that it was as if the woman screaming stood right in front of Ronnie’s cell. Ronnie twisted in place and gripped the bars, hauling herself up on her knees.

“What was that?” she asked, still breathless from the sudden pull from sleep. “Who’s screaming?”

“What?” Cecily didn’t seem to understand, which was ridiculous, Ronnie thought, because how could she not have heard that?

“Listen.”

The two of them waited in the silence for a long moment. Ronnie began to think that maybe she’d heard wrong when another earsplitting shriek echoed through the stone to her, ringing in her ears. She winced at the sound.

“That.” she said, shaking her head. “Didn’t you hear that?”

“Barely.”

Ronnie wished she could see through the wall that separated them, just so she could offer her neighbor her most incredulous stare. “Barely? It sounds like she’s screaming right in my ear.”

“Impossible. I can’t hear a thing because of that damned flower on the ceiling. No one can. It’s the only good thing about that bloom. We can’t hear whatever Sloan is doing.” Cecily’s voice had taken a gruff turn. An angry growl rolled around under her words, just waiting to bust through.

“I can still hear everything just fine.” Ronnie told her.

Cecily didn’t answer her right away. “I thought you were a shifter?” Her words were slow and precise.

Confused, Ronnie nodded to no one. “I am.”

“Really?” Distrust colored her tone and it surprised Ronnie. She’d never been questioned like this. It wasn’t like being a shifter was something she could hide, or that someone else could fake, for that matter. Every race, including humans, had their own distinguishable features that couldn’t be masked.

“Yes.” Ronnie answered her in a firm voice. “I am a shifter.” She reached through the bars and held her hand out far enough that Cecily could see. She pushed her will through her body and forced her claws up through the tips of her fingers. Immediately, Cecily’s arm joined hers. The other girl ran her fingers over Ronnie’s claws as if she were testing to see if they were real. The soft pads of her fingers traced over the claws like they were made of glass.

“That shouldn’t be possible. It’s been hours since you came down here.”

Hours? How many hours?

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Ronnie said.

“Every shifter that comes down here falls victim to that flower. It sucks the power out of us. No senses. No fangs. No claws.” Cecily’s voice was tight. She sounded just like Lorna did when she was upset and trying not to cry.

Ronnie wrapped her hand around Cecily’s and squeezed. This was something she could understand. The feeling of hopelessness that every shifter who couldn’t transform shared. A tragedy that united them. This powerlessness was a brittle thread that connected Ronnie and Cecily. Ronnie didn’t seem to feel the effects of the flower’s pollen, but she knew what it felt like to be stripped of power nonetheless.

Cecily squeezed back. “I’m glad you still have your senses,” she said finally. “It does no good to be bitter down here. Shifters stick together.”

The sudden scrape of wood against stone forced them apart. Ronnie pulled back into her cell, her claws retracting into her fingers. There were soft pats of quiet steps before the smell of cooked meat reached her nose. She couldn’t help but inhale deeply, salivating while her fangs tingled in her mouth. Food. Still hot. Her stomach rumbled and she realized that if Cecily was right, then it had been an entire day since she’d eaten. Probably longer, since she didn’t remember having dinner before setting off the save Anya.

Something drifted beneath the aroma of savory meat and the yeast of bread- something sweet and sugary. It smelled wonderful and Ronnie almost laughed. Was Sloan serving them dessert with their meal?

But it wasn’t Sloan, or a guard that stepped in front of her cell with a loaded tray of steaming dinner. It was Sebastian.

“Hello.” The words were as sheepish as his smile. It didn’t quite reach his eyes and Ronnie could already pick out his uncertainty. “I, uh, brought you something to eat.”

Ronnie stared down at the plate. She had to admit, it looked delicious. Seared meat and seasoned vegetables that still steamed. The bread was still warm too, and the little pad of butter slid off in a melted trail of glistening yellow.

No sweets, she realized as she looked at the food. Where was the smell coming from?

“Did you bring enough for everyone?” she asked.

“No,” he admitted. “I didn’t know if anyone else was down here.” He looked around the dungeon. There weren’t any faces pressed against the bars- in fact, the shapes that Ronnie had figured to be other shifters hadn’t moved since she’d woken up. If it weren’t for the fact that she could hear the slow beats of their hearts, she’d worry if they were even still alive.

Sebastian stepped to the side and peeked into Cecily’s cell. From the alarmed expression on his face, he figured she wasn’t giving him a very warm welcome. “I can go get more, if you’re also hungry.” He offered to Cecily, but all he received in response was a growl of warning.

He turned back to Ronnie and offered her the tray, but still, she hesitated to take it. There were questions burning on her tongue and she couldn’t figure out which one to ask first. Who was he to Sloan? Why was he staying here like a guest? Did he know what Sloan was doing with the supernaturals he arrested? Why was he trying to be so nice?

“Do you know where my friends are?” she asked finally.

“Your friends?”

Ronnie nodded. “I came here with two friends, Malik and Lorna, the red haired witch you already met. We came here for Anya, another friend. Well, family, really.”

“I remember the red haired witch but I haven’t seen her or anyone else. I’m sorry.” Sebastian set the tray down and slid it under the bars toward Ronnie. He winced when he looked behind her at the bare cell and the grime on the floor that stuck to her clothes and skin in a smear of grey brown. “I’m sorry,” he said again, and this time the words seemed heavier in his mouth.

“What time is it?”

“A little past noon. You’ve been down here for a while. Sloan left to pick up another guest.”

“And you thought you’d sneak me some lunch?” Ronnie pulled the tray close. “Did you know about all of this?” Ronnie asked, picking up the buttered roll and pulling it apart with dirty fingers. She ate it piece by piece, though simply inhaling it was tempting. Sloan was a horrendous person, but he had some great cooks.

“I heard rumors. But no, I didn’t expect all of,” he motioned around the dungeon, “this.”

Ronnie watched him with curious eyes. If it were any other human in front of her, she’d be sorely tempted to call them a liar. It was hard to believe that any human didn’t know what happened out in the Edge. The laws that banished the supernatural races that stood against the humans in Marla’s Battle were human made. They had formed Purity and stormed through supernatural lands, murdering every creature they came across. Every slight that every supernatural ever suffered came from human hands, either directly or indirectly.

Even so, as Sebastian sat across from her, kneeling on the dirty floor in his crisp white linens, he seemed genuine, which bothered Ronnie more than if he had just shrugged off her situation and ignored her. She wasn’t sure what made her more uncomfortable- the fact that he actually seemed unaware of Sloan’s actions in the Edge or that he appeared remorseful now that he’d found out. She wasn’t sure how to handle that. It was easier to be angry at the humans for ignoring supernatural struggles.

Maybe it was that, despite everything, Ronnie enjoyed his company in some way. His naivety of the world around him frustrated her, endlessly so, but there was a kindness in Sebastian that Ronnie could admit she found endearing. There was just something about him.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Sebastian declared suddenly, nodding more to himself than to Ronnie as he spoke. “I won’t leave you down here.”

“How do you plan on doing that? I’m pretty sure Sloan would take you apart if you tried.” It probably sounded more harsh than she meant, but it was true. Sloan didn’t seem the type to let such actions slide and Sebastian may be kind, but he wasn’t exactly a standing figure of strength and prowess. Sloan would destroy him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted, “but I’ll figure something out.”

“What about everyone else down here? What about the witches that Sloan is keeping locked up somewhere else? Probably torturing, if the screams are anything to go by.”

Sebastian bit his lip and looked away. His blue eyes seemed darker in the dim light, but Ronnie’s sharp sight caught the expression before he could hide it. “You heard them too, didn’t you? The screams?”

“Yes, I heard them,” he answered quietly.

Ronnie leaned back, dropping the rest of the roll on the tray. “You only heard rumors. You didn’t expect all of this.” She repeated his words back to him.

He nearly flinched at the accusation beneath them. “I wasn’t lying. I had no idea what Sloan was doing here. He’s only here to help the White Guard maintain order.”

“Maintain order? By torturing people? You saw what he did to Valerie!”

“Who is Val-”

“The vampire from the market! He nearly burned her alive.” Sebastian turned a sickly shade of pale at the memory. “He’s taking innocent people and locking them up down here! Hell, he’s arresting them and turning them into servants.”

“His actions are extreme, but these people are hardly innocent. They’re criminals.”

Ronnie reached out and gripped the bars. “Petty criminals. Simple thieves, maybe. It. Doesn’t. Justify. Torture.” Her words were clipped and severe and Sebastian cringed as they struck him.

He struggled to respond and Ronnie turned away from him with an irritated growl. Her veins were alive now as blood pumped through her.

“Wait,” Sebastian reached through the bars and grabbed her shoulder.

A shock, like a bolt of hot lighting on an ice cold day, shot through Ronnie the moment his fingers touched her bare skin. The cell fell away from her, leaving her with nothing but the heat of his skin against hers. Unknown energy pulsed between them, twanging on an iron cord, but as quick as it came, the shock of it had them pulling away from each other.

Ronnie spun around. Sebastian stared at her with wide eyes. He looked down at his hand, closed it and then back at her as if she were the most interesting thing he’d ever laid eyes on.

He’d felt it too.

The swift beat of his heart filled her ears, pushing other sounds away. The scent of him filled her lungs, sugary sweet and bright like the sun. Ronnie wanted to reach out and touch him again, to feel the energy that was still singing in her body again, but instead she took a step away, overwhelmed by the sudden influx on stimulation and sensation. It stole the breath right out of her lungs, entirely too much at once.

“What was-” Sebastian began.

The door to the dungeon banged open, smacking against the wall. Sebastian jumped and Ronnie kicked the tray of food to the side, sliding it back into the shadows and out of sight.

“My, my, it seems I’ve stumbled upon a clandestine meeting,” Sloan said, stepping in front of the cell. He bore down on Sebastian, towering over him. “Sebastian, what are you doing down here?”

Sebastian clenched his fist. “A better question would be why down here even exists.” His words were careful and neat, but even so, Ronnie’s ear pricked at the line of anger that ran under them. Sloan slid his gaze over to where Ronnie stood rooted in place. “Why are these people,” he emphasized, “being treated like this, Sloan?” he continued.

“As I told you before, these people,” Sloan said the word as if it physically pained him, “are criminals. Every action I take is under the authority of the Marble City and the premier.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It matters little to me what you believe.” Sloan motioned to a guard and a gruff looking man stepped forward, grabbing Sebastian by the bicep and hauling him towards the door.

“Unhand me!” Sebastian’s voice bellowed strongly with authority, from where Ronnie didn’t know, but the guard paid little mind to his struggle and pulled him through the door.

“As for you,” Sloan turned to Ronnie. “A guest is waiting to speak with you.”