The Raising (The Torch Keeper Book 3) Read online

  “Looks like your flame’s about to be put out permanently, Torch Keeper,” Arch growls. “Get out!”

  I match his contempt with some of my own. “I still have enough of a Spark left to burn you for what you’ve done to my brother.”

  My stomach muscles tense a split-second before his meaty fist slams me in the gut.

  Before I can get my bearings, the agents grab and cuff me, dragging me between them like an unlucky wishbone, as we enter the complex.

  I don’t recognize this wing of the centralized knowledge tower of the Citadel of Truth. Must be a new addition after Cass’s regime took over. It appears to be some kind of medical ward, but unlike any I’ve ever seen. From the number of agents patrolling the corridors, it’s obvious the patients housed within are not here by choice.

  There’s a stench that underlies the antiseptic aroma, like meat that’s just starting to go bad, mixed with the odor of sweat and bodily fluids.

  Arch and the agents don’t even flinch at the sounds of piercing screams and moans echoing around us. It’s as if this entire facility is in its death throes.

  I catch glimpses inside the rooms as I’m led along these hallways, snippets of horrors that have been ripped from nightmares and manifested into reality. One wing marked Genetic Studies seems to be entirely composed of twins, identical faces mirroring each other’s suffering. Technicians jab needles into throats, right into their eyes—I have to turn away at the sight of another set of twins which looks like it’s been grafted together, stitch by stitch, into some grotesque tangle of limbs.

  In another wing labeled Surgical Regeneration, patients are undergoing what appear to be nerve, muscle, and bone transplantation operations—without the benefit of anesthesia. With my hands cuffed, I can’t cover my ears against the agonized cries from these patients, restrained and forced to watch as their own bodies are cut open before their eyes.

  Wing after wing unleashes one monstrosity on top of another: the Head Trauma Center, which tests patients’ capacity to withstand cranial injuries; Temperature Desentisization Testing, where victims are forcefully submerged in tanks of freezing water to develop a resistance against hypothermia, resulting in frost bite covering most of their bodies; patients subjected to poisonous gases, infectious insects; chambers simulating high altitude pressure resulting in brain hemorrhaging; intentionally inflicted burns to test pharmaceuticals.

  By the time I get to the Desalinization Processing ward, I have nothing but hatred and contempt left for the entire human race. Here, prisoners have been subjected to such extreme dehydration by being restricted to sea water, that one of them looks up at me in desperation and shame as he laps at the freshly mopped floor with his tongue, just to obtain one drop of drinkable water.

  We all deserved to have perished in the Ash Wars. Every single one of us.

  Arch and the other agents have smug looks on their faces as they watch my reactions. I’m sure they could have taken me wherever we’re going without giving me the scenic tour. But they wanted me to see. A grisly preview of what fate awaits me.

  Up ahead, the next wing is labeled Sterilization Facility. I force myself to peer through the glass. A line of hundreds of people is being herded by agents completely covered in protective suits through a machine emitting waves of radiation. Beyond this, some of the prisoners who have already undergone the treatment have collapsed, some vomiting, others covered in severe burns.

  “Our methods can be somewhat crude at times, but they are highly effective.”

  I turn to face the owner of that voice. The tall, skeletal Prior Delvecchio.

  He extends a bony hand, then catches himself at the sight of my still cuffed ones and retracts it. As if I would ever shake his hand. “Such an honor to see you again so soon, my son.”

  My eyes linger on the blood stains spattered on his white robes. Still look fresh. Wonder which of these cursed inmates it belongs to?

  “If I said I’m not pleased to see you again, I’m sure you’d understand, Delvecchio.”

  Arch shoves me in the back, but Delvecchio waves him off. “That’s enough, agent. Young Spark seems to think we are the monsters here.” He peers at the sterilization queue. “There are your monsters.” He turns back to me. “Every last, single one of the specimens in this facility. They are all members of the decadent and depraved bloodlines that turned a blind eye to the people’s suffering and oppression under Talon’s rule. Surely, you are only too familiar with the atrocities they committed. It’s our divine purpose to eradicate their genes from future generations, so that we will be a purer, more noble people, worthy of the Deity’s love, while at the same time building a stronger race. I would have thought the Torch Keeper of all people would understand this.”

  I can barely meet his eyes without throwing up. “Using evil to fight evil kind of defeats the entire point. No one deserves this.”

  Delvecchio blows his nose into a foul looking handkerchief and stuffs it back into his robes. “Filthy allergens. I told maintenance they needed to augment the air filtration systems. It’s a viral paradise in here.” Then he fixes his eyes on me again. “Perhaps, once you’ve undergone your treatment you’ll be able to see things more clearly and appreciate the work we’re doing here, my son.”

  These words rip through my chest with icy claws. “What do you mean?”

  But instead of answering, he nods at Arch and his squad. They prod me down to the end of the corridor and shove me into a waiting elevator. As the car zooms upward, I keep seeing snippets of all those wards we passed and brace myself for the worst.

  The doors slide open, revealing a sterile, circular chamber, with stark white walls and gleaming steel instruments. A trio of individuals, unrecognizable in their white smocks, surgical masks and caps, are waiting there, accompanied by a very familiar face.

  Valerian.

  Her stark features never once betray her allegiance. She glances at me with all the indifference of a pesky insect to be crushed.

  “Got a little present for you, partner,” Arch announces.

  She shakes her head. “Lucian Spark. The Torch Keeper. Still can’t believe that this,” she looks me up and down, “is what all the fuss is about.”

  Arch sighs. “Well you did help train him, which is why we aren’t going to take any chances.”

  One of the members of the surgical prep team hands Valerian a syringe. “This should help make him more docile before we begin. I’m going to need a vein.”

  “Screw you.” When Arch’s men grab me and he rips up my sleeve, I make a show of a struggle, trying to kick and punch, even bite them.

  “Feisty to the end.” Arch knees me in the gut.

  With the wind knocked out of me and my stomach throbbing, the acting part’s definitely over and I can barely focus on the syringe as Valerian jabs it into my arm.

  “This ought to make you more cooperative, Fifth Tier.” She glares at me, her eyes almost equally as cold as the liquid flooding my veins. Then she rips out the needle and turns to the prep team. “He’s all yours.”

  I was hoping Valerian would have been able to switch out the anesthetic before injecting me, but I can already feel its effects, the bank of mental fog rolling in, clouding my thoughts, my eyes drooping against the lights, my tense muscles unspooling until I’m flopping like a rag doll.

  Maybe Valerian didn’t have time to switch the contents of the hypo or couldn’t without blowing her cover.

  Or maybe she’s been playing us the whole time and she really is in league with Cassius and his new regime.

  I must have drifted off, and I’m not sure for how long because by the time my mind’s able to penetrate the haze, I find myself strapped to an operating table, hands and legs restrained against cold steel. In the reflection of the overhead monitors, I can see that I’m clad only in a pair of white medical shorts, and my entire body’s been shaven, including my head, which has been marked up like a map.

  My eyes flick to the tray of instruments in a
cart beside me. Razor thin knives and saws with sharp teeth gleaming in the light.

  A drill whose bit looks like it could cut clean through solid metal.

  They’re going to slice my head open like a ripe fruit.

  I tug at my bonds and one of my hand restraints gives slightly. How thoughtful of Valerian.

  Icy fingers brush against my skull, causing my body to erupt in goose flesh. I crane my neck to get a better look at the face that hovers into view.

  Cassius.

  “It’s nice to see you in person again.” His face is a mockery of concern. I turn my cheek away at his touch. “I hope you aren’t too uncomfortable, Lucian.”

  “Just another day at the spa,” I croak. My mouth’s dry, and I’m disoriented and scared. But I’m not going to give him any satisfaction.

  He leans in close. “I tried not to let it come to this. But I have no choice. This is bigger than you or I. I must think about the good of the people.”

  I force myself to turn to him. “What are you talking about? How is any of this for anyone’s good?”

  “This bloody war has gone on way too long. Straton and the forces of Sanctum are never going to give up. And your precious revolution is failing. It’s only a matter of time before you’re wiped out, too.”

  “Excuse me if I beg to differ. I seem to remember a victory at the Cape—”

  “Followed by a loss of one of your main bases. Even as we speak, your forces are weakened, scrambling to stay alive. Is that what you want for the people you claim to care so much about, Lucian?”

  As much as I loathe the sound of his voice, he’s right about the plight of my friends. “What does any of this have to do with my being strapped to a table about to get my brain cut open?”

  He strokes my forehead and this time I don’t even have the energy to flinch. “The key to winning and ending this pointless war lies right here,” he taps my temple, “within you. Straton knows it just as well as I do.”

  “The hippocampus procedure that Straton wanted to perform on me back in Sanctum. He wanted access to my memories, but you stopped him then.”

  His expression turns grave. “I stopped him because once those memories are accessed the process will be irrevocable. Lucian Spark will cease to exist forever, replaced by your true self, Queran Embers. Pioneer of the Establishment. Then I’ll have no choice but to put you down immediately.”

  “How are you so sure I’m him? How—when—did you find this out?” Even as I ask the question, there’s a part of me that’s not sure I want to hear the answer.

  His eyes glisten, and he rubs it away. “When I was recruited. During my trials…I discovered a lot of things. Things that changed everything. I tried to spare you. You have to believe me. But there’s nothing I can do now. Too much depends on it.” He bows his head. “I’ll always care for you, Lucian. No matter what you believe. Sometimes I wish I’d never been recruited, that I’d never left you and things between us could still be the same.” He shakes his head against the wistful memories. “Then I realize, even if I hadn’t learned the things I have, eventually, you will become Queran Embers again. It’s who you are. Your destiny. The only thing I’m doing now is hastening the process to save more lives.”

  The most disturbing thing about his rant is that I actually believe he’s trying to be sincere. What could have happened to him to turn him into this stranger?

  “Cassius, please. If you ever really did care about me don’t do this. Just kill me now. I can handle death. But I don’t want to be imprisoned in a body that’s no longer going to be mine.”

  Tears stream from his eyes, dripping on to my skin. “I promise that as soon as I find out what I need to from Embers, I’ll grant you the peace you deserve.” He kisses my forehead and whispers into my ear, “I’m so sorry.”

  And in that moment, I’m sorry, too.

  I catch the sound of the door opening and another silhouette approaches the bed.

  “You have a few minutes,” Cassius says. Then he leaves my bedside, and Cole takes his place.

  By now the obviously diluted shot Valerian gave me is definitely starting to wear off. But even with one of my restraints loosened, I still have to pretend to be incapacitated, which is nearly impossible with my little brother so close.

  His eyes narrow as he watches me. Then his finger reaches out and traces the faint scar where he stabbed me on the roof top last year.

  “Cole. You came. You still remember who I am, right?”

  He shakes his head. “You’re going to hurt me. Just like you’ve hurt so many other people.”

  “I would never hurt you. How could you ever think that?”

  “My brother’s dead. You’re evil.” His fingers hover over the surgical instruments, settling on the power drill. He lifts it in his hands and presses the button to activate it. It comes alive with a loud whirring sound. Then he moves toward me. “I get to make the first cut. You’re not going to ever hurt anyone else.”

  One of the surgical team pats him on the head. “Remember just like we practiced, Cadet Spark, during your lessons. Place the drill at the grid line and apply pressure…”

  Cole moves behind me, out of my sight line, and I know it’s only a matter of seconds before I feel that drill boring deep into my skull.

  Mustering as much of my returning strength as I can, I bolt upright, rip my right hand free of my wrist strap, grab hold of one of the scalpels on the tray, and slice the left strap away. The element of surprise is on my side. As one of the surgeons tries to restrain me, I plunge the scalpel into his neck and tear it across. When he starts to collapse in a spray of blood, I fling his body into his two cohorts and proceed to slice open my foot restraints. Once I’m free, I spring to my feet and whirl, stabbing and slashing at the two remaining surgeons until they join their fallen comrades, still and lifeless.

  Cole’s watching me, eyes full of fury. Before I can stop him, he jabs the alarm. Sirens blare through the complex. He dashes toward the door. I reach him before he can escape, lifting him into the air, ignoring his kicks and screams.

  “Let go of me!” His teeth sink into my arm.

  “Aah!” I wrench my arm free and grab one of the hypos scattered on the counter, taking a quick glance at the label to make sure it’s only a sedative. Then I pop the cap with my teeth and jab the plunger into Cole’s neck. “Sorry, little brother. I need you to calm down.”

  While his protesting body loses its battle against the tranquilizer, I grab a pair of scrubs from the equipment closet and slide them on. Then I scoop up Cole, toss him into a hover chair with a blanket over him, and exit the operating room, just as a squad of agents comes barreling around the opposite corner.

  I dash from ward to ward, activating the cell release switches, flooding the corridors with all those patients that are still ambulatory.

  “Get the hell out of here!” I urge them.

  “That’s far enough, Lucian.”

  Cassius is blocking the hallway, his weapon trained right at my head.

  I smile. “There’s no way you’re going to shoot me at point black range and risk losing all the precious intel trapped in my noggin, Cass.”

  He smiles back. “I don’t need to kill you. Only disable you long enough for my men to take you into custody.”

  Before he can fire, my finger hits the throttle on Cole’s hover chair, propelling it into him. The impact sends him reeling. I leap and grab the weapon from him. A quick check shows Cole’s okay.

  Now it’s my turn to aim the weapon at Cassius. “Pick up my brother and let’s move.”

  “You’re making a big mistake, Lucian,” he says, scooping up Cole in his arms. “If you really care about your friends, you know Queran Embers has to be destroyed.”

  “The only thing I know is that you’re taking us to the rooftop and your private ship.”

  Jabbing the gun between his shoulder blades, he leads the way through the melee of fleeing patients, medical personnel, and pursuing agents.
>
  In minutes we’ve taken the lift and emerged onto the roof. Cass’s private ship awaits on the circular landing platform.

  “Lucian. I beg you to reconsider,” Cassius pleads.

  Before we can get up the gangplank, the doors to the stairwell burst open. A squad of agents pours in with Arch and Valerian leading the charge.

  Arch and the others aim their weapons at me.

  “Do not shoot to kill,” Cassius shouts.

  I jam the butt of my gun against Cassius’ temple. “Stay back or I’ll kill him.”

  Cassius wraps his hand around the still unconscious Cole’s throat. “Put down your weapon, or I’ll snap your brother’s neck before you can kill me.”

  My eyes flit from Cassius, to Arch and his team, and finally to Valerian. The nod she gives me is barely perceptible, but it’s enough.

  I drop my weapon, and she rushes over. But instead of taking me into custody, she aims her weapon at Cassius and fires. I wrench Cole from him as he collapses.

  She opens her palm, revealing a sonic charge, capable of destroying this entire platform. “Stay back. All of you. Or I’ll blow this.”

  Arch waves his hands to hold back his team. “So you’re the traitor bitch who’s been working with the insurrectionists. When I get my hands on you you’re gonna wish you were dead.”

  I start up the gangplank. “Valerian. Let’s go.”

  Another wave of agents swarms through the elevator doors.

  She shakes her head. “They’ll shoot you down before you get far. Don’t you know anything, Fifth Tier?” She reaches into her pocket and tosses me a small computer chip. “You’ll need this.”

  My eyes are burning. I thrust the chip into my own pocket and rush up the gangplank. I set Cole down gently inside the ship, before returning to drag the wounded Cassius up the gangplank, hurling him inside. I should just leave him to die, too. But I have to know what he was looking for inside my brain.