The Book of Olivia Page 5

  The Aeropites despised us. They wouldn’t touch us for fear they’d catch Axel’s engineered plague. They saw us as filthy heathens, no better than disease-carrying rodents, and perhaps that’s what we looked like now. Hard living would do that to anyone, but it also made us tough, difficult to kill.

  I reached up and covered the mark on my face, hoping his gaze would move. I didn’t like him studying me. If he put two and two together, things could get far worse. I was the one hostage the resistance couldn’t afford to have taken. Axel would come for me. He alone held them together, even though his methods left much to be desired. He was the keystone.

  My tactics didn’t work. His focus intensified. Those eyes. There was something about his eyes. I couldn’t place who, but they reminded me of someone else, a person from my past.

  “Why do you mutilate yourself like that?” His face remained emotionless, no look of disgust or curled lip, merely an expression of curiosity, which further piqued mine.

  I rubbed the mark. It seemed to burn under my fingers. “It’s not mutilation. It’s a badge of honor—commitment.” If I told him the truth, that it was also rank we wore, it could give them leverage, a way to cut the proverbial head off the snake, so I only revealed a little. I knew he would not believe a lie. He seemed to be good at reading faces, and he did hold a weapon on me. I didn’t want to give him a reason to pull the trigger.

  His eyes narrowed. “Honor? What do you know of honor?”

  “More than you could possibly know.”

  He lifted the tip of his weapon, knocking a stray curl off my shoulder, exposing the pulse pounding in my throat. “I could shoot you right here, stop you from helping them further, take out one more rat in the ruins.”

  “You could. Why haven’t you?” I dropped my hand and boldly studied him back, waiting. What a handsome man. A day’s worth of whiskers clung to his cheek, and soot from an earlier engagement lay smudged across his jaw. He wore the aura of a warrior; power seemed to roll off him. It did not detract from his charm, but gave him a bad boy look that held a strange appeal.

  I let my gaze travel, taking his appearance in, committing it to memory. Where had I seen him before? That nose—straight, not too big, not too small, and his mouth was set in a stubborn line, the ultimate poker face. I could only guess his intent. His body language gave nothing away.

  “I don’t feel like killing today.” He smiled and a dimple appeared in his cheek, sending my heart rate skyrocketing. “You intrigue me, standing there, holding that knife as though it could make a difference in your living or dying.” His smile faded, replaced with an intensity that made me squirm. As his stare grew hotter, my stomach flipped and went through a series of vaults, barely sticking the landing. Never had I felt so unbalanced.

  I knew what that look meant, what thoughts lay behind the raw emotion on his face. I’d only been intimate with one man, and the way this guy looked at me brought me to the conclusion that might change in the future.

  The very near future.

  He motioned with the tip of his weapon toward a pillar lying on the ground. “Sit.”

  Not die or run. Sit? I lifted my gaze from the pillar, looking him directly in the eyes. Most clones, even though free for the last five years, could not do that one simple thing. Looking a man in the face wasn’t a strong suit. I wanted him to know I wasn’t afraid of him, that any laws he followed did not apply to me, nor had they ever. I did not trust him, but, thus far, I continued to breathe. It had to mean something. What game did this man play?

  He nodded toward the perch. “Now.”

  I backed up and sank down, clutching the knife so tightly my hand went numb.

  “Drop it.”

  My fingers sprang open. The weapon clattered to the pavers, as useless as my legs. “Are you going to let me go?”

  He cocked his head to the side. “Should I?” In the space of a breath, he drew closer, holding the weapon on me with one hand while he reached out with the other to touch the glowing area on my cheek. Rough calluses skimmed across my skin, light as though I could collapse under his touch, not something I’d expected from a battle-hardened warrior. “You know, you are not one of them. I could have snuck you back into the city and they’d never have been the wiser that you’d been out here with the clones—if not for this. It’s stupid. It makes it easy to identify you and pick off the leaders.”

  Leaders? Did he know? I flinched and yanked my face from his touch. He’d nailed the truth with little effort, but I wasn’t about to provide affirmation to his theory. No, I wasn’t a clone. And, yes, it separated us from the residents of the cities. As it should. As we’d intended. We were not them and had no desire to be.

  He gripped my chin and turned my face back to his as he squatted down, bringing our lips within inches of each other. “It’s my duty to dispose of you on sight—beautiful traitor.”

  He dropped his hand, but I continued to hold his gaze, staring him down with as much contempt as I could muster. “How do you know I’m not a clone?” I knew. The way I’d challenged him. The man proved more intelligent and observant than I’d ever have given him credit for. This was a seasoned officer, a man who knew human character. His next words confirmed it.

  “Because you look me in the eyes without fear or hesitation. You should be afraid. I am not the kind of man a young woman such as yourself, or any rebel, for that matter, would like to meet.”

  He was right, of course. I shouldn’t have come here. I risked everything the resistance had bled and died to achieve. Oh, what a fool I was. If he shot me, at least I couldn’t be used against them. I’d overheard his conversation, knew of their plans to reclaim lands we held, the area where our ships sat, nearly ready for the big voyage. Certainly he couldn’t let me walk away with that information. I swallowed and averted my gaze to the ground. I should have been freaking out, not sitting there challenging him with a glare that would make all but the bravest men slink away in defeat. What had I been thinking? I frowned and looked up.

  “Were you going to use that knife on me?”

  “I would’ve tried to run first. Then, if you’d backed me into a corner…” Nothing but the truth would do. I could see it on his face. So I didn’t lie.

  “Yes, your kind doesn’t like to be cornered, do you?”

  “My kind? As if I’m any different than you. Except for one thing.” I looked up. “I’m not a killer.”

  He raised a brow. “And what is your definition of a killer?”

  “Someone without regard for life.”

  “So you have care of life, yet you come here, where you show so little value for your own?”

  “I have my reasons.”

  “Do you? And what are those reasons?” His face looked deceptively gentle as he continued staring, as if he were reaching into my mind, my soul, looking for something I’d hidden.

  And I’d hidden much I wouldn’t like to reveal. I broke the interaction and focused on the weapon in his hand, reminding myself where I sat and who stood across from me. “Nothing I can share.”

  Then it hit me—why he seemed so familiar. My heart pounded faster, even though I tried to remain calm. Not all were evil. But this one… A dangerous man.

  A chill raced across my skin, and the lightbulb in my brain snapped on with so much intensity, my whole body jerked in shock. I knew faces, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t recognized his immediately. The Butcher. Images of him had been passed among the clans, portraits of a killer. No one knew his name. We’d seen him with the men in black uniforms with skulls on their arms. Wherever he went, death followed. Actually, I was pretty certain it took orders from him. The Butcher. The Butcher. How had I managed to stumble into this mess? My mouth dropped open as though it had a mind of its own. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t breathe. My knees shook and my heart pounded.

  He reached up and rubbed his jaw. “Something tells me you just had an epiphany. Care to share?”

  Yeah, about that. Not a good idea. I shook my
head as best as I could, an almost imperceptible jiggle. A lump lodged in my throat and everything around us went black. The only thing I could see was his face, looming over me.

  A small girly voice in my head began to chant a verse from my preschool days. Rub a dub, dub. Three men in a tub. The butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker. I almost laughed at the absurd nursery rhyme playing through my head, except there was nothing funny about this butcher.

  So why did I smile? I had no idea, sometimes your body reacted differently than you’d expect to stress, especially when you realized everything you did in that moment could be your last.

  “Did you know there used to be this country called Bulgaria where shaking your head meant yes.”

  And like my involuntary smile, my mouth took over. “I did not know that. In Aeropia, shaking one’s head means no. And we are in Aeropia, are we not?”

  His face lit at my response, amusement clearly etched in his features.

  Hostility, I could handle, but his amusement had a strange way of making me feel like a cat’s toy. I balled my hands at my sides and swallowed, unsure what terrified me more, the tip of his weapon pointed at my sternum or the possibility he might recognize me as I’d recognized him. Rub a dub, dub. Nothing humorous about that.

  “You have quite the mouth.”

  “Do I?”

  “Most definitely.” He winked, and my stomach started fluttering again.

  Was he flirting? Again, I found my body reacting in ways I didn’t like, this time warming inside. Perhaps lingering need triggered my reaction, cultivated by the chasm that had opened between Axel and me. Whatever the reason, it made me tremble.

  “You’re damn beautiful for a traitor.”

  “You’re pretty for a killer. A bit gamy, though.” I sniffed to drive the point home.

  His left brow shot up.

  Why? Why do I keep doing that?

  “There is never an excuse for rudeness, Olivia.” My mother’s voice ran through my head. “You are a lady. Always remember that. Wherever you are, insults are beneath you.”

  “I’m sorry. I…” Why should I apologize? I lived in a different world than my mother raised me in. I hadn’t come here to find a friend and had no reason to be diplomatic. “Never mind,” I muttered and bit my lip.

  My opinions had been shackled for so many years, once I’d unleashed them, it seemed impossible to keep silent. I’d become accustomed to being blunt. Would he kill me for it? Probably better he did that than take me hostage and back to the city where I could be identified with a bio-scan. I really needed to learn how to keep my mouth shut.

  He tipped his head back and laughter rolled from his chest. Shivers raced up and down my skin. The rich timbre moved through my body, igniting primitive emotions I needed to suppress. Lust. Attraction.

  “But you are one of us, or have you forgotten you reminded me that we are the same? Except I am a killer—and you are not.” He leaned closer and sniffed. “I’m not the only one in need of a bath, though. Maybe you are suggesting we scrub each other clean?”

  I shook my head, feeling flushed and hot, though the evening had taken on a chill since nightfall, a sign the rainy season would be upon us soon. “No,” I said as I pictured just what he’d asked. A soapy sponge moving over ropy muscle. I quivered and felt more heat explode across my cheeks. I grasped my pant legs, looking for anything to steady my strange reaction to the killer. My imagination needed to stop running away on me. “You are pretty, though.”

  “So are some of the most poisonous snakes in the world, but I’d doubt you’d reach out and pet one if you saw it. I could kill you. Do you still think I’m pretty?”

  “Yes, and you haven’t.”

  “No.” He kept his face straight while he said it, so I couldn’t read him.

  Would he do it—pull that trigger? I didn’t have any reason to believe otherwise, given the horrible things I’d heard he’d done. Only one way to know, and since we seemed to be on talking terms, I asked. “Will you?”

  “Should I?”

  You’re not going to, are you? “Probably. I am very dangerous.” I tossed my hair. Something that seemed absurd when I thought about it later, but it hadn’t at the time. He gave me a look that said he didn’t consider me a threat. The corner of his mouth twitched in amusement yet again, blowing the poker face he’d held before. No, he didn’t plan to kill me. So if not that—what?

  I waited for his answer. He didn’t move, barely breathed, but the fire in his eyes jumped. Energy sizzled between us.

  Silence.

  I squeezed my knees together. The longer I sat and waited, the more the lust built, rolling through me like a swelling storm. He’s the enemy. I shouldn’t think or feel what I did. So powerful my reaction to his proximity, I questioned my sanity. I needed to get away before he realized who he had in his custody, and here I was, making goo-goo eyes at a man perfectly capable of obliterating me and our cause.

  He broke the silence, startling me. “You need to get out of this grid. If the others catch you, they won’t be so nice.” His voice was hoarse, raspy, and slid along my skin as though it stroked me. It took all my willpower not to cry out and break the connection that had formed between us. Sick, sick, sick.

  He shouldered his weapon and glanced at where the forest claimed the once-manicured plaza. “Go.”

  “I can’t leave.”

  “You can’t stay.”

  “Why are you helping me?”

  “You need to ask that?”

  Okay, I looked pathetic. This was sympathy. Seriously? Do I really look that bad? I eyed my boots, dull compared to his. I brushed my hands up my thighs in an attempt to neaten my clothing. My cargo pants, scavenged from a dead soldier, were worn through at the knees and my sleeveless shirt, as threadbare as my bottoms, clung to my body by its last stitches. I glanced back over at the factory. Even if he felt sorry for me, I couldn’t leave quite yet.

  “Go.”

  I gathered my courage, lifted my chin, and used all the regal grace I’d been born with. Although I looked like a vagrant, I drew in a breath and faced the Butcher like a queen. “No.” I didn’t take orders from soldiers, especially enemy soldiers.

  “No?” A flash of shock, and it disappeared as quickly. I intended to show him he’d met his match in a hundred-and-ten-pound female. The moss green of his irises darkened like a forest at night. I swallowed, as afraid to release the stare as I was to hold it.

  I’d come to get the wire, risked a lot for it, and if what I’d heard was true, a wall would soon enclose the small factory two hundred yards from me. This was my last chance. I’d waited months for the opportunity, for a holiday that would leave the area mostly empty, so I could claim my treasure without Axel knowing. “No,” I repeated. Louder, this time.

  He grasped both sides of my face and leaned close enough for us to touch noses. “I hardly think you are in a position to negotiate.”

  “What makes you think I want to strike a bargain with the devil?”

  “Don’t you?”

  “No.” I had no idea why I felt drawn to him, only that I did. I lifted my hand to touch him, and realizing what I was about to do, dropped it. Shameless. I had a duty to my people. “You are helping me.”

  “You’re mistaken. I don’t assist pretty traitors in their treachery. I’m making it easier to clean this quadrant of the city. If I shoot you, I have to clean up the mess. I’d rather not.” His mouth spat harsh words, but his eyes touched me like a lover. The Butcher released me and stepped back.

  “I don’t believe you. You’re no foot soldier. You’re an officer.”

  He shrugged, turning his back. “You said you’d try to escape first. So escape. Go. Get out of here before I change my mind.”

  “I can’t.” I rose to my feet. My gaze shifted to the opening in the forest, jumping back to rest on the knife at the toe of my right boot, waiting for me to retrieve it. I could stab him, eliminate one more monster from the gene pool, and get
what I’d come here to collect.

  “Don’t think about it.”

  I looked up and saw his shoulders rise and fall with his breath. He appeared relaxed, but I knew appearances could be deceptive. He’d moved with the grace of a jungle cat earlier, and something told me he could spring just as quickly. I’d be a fool to do it. I eyed the knife. Tempting. It would be so easy to pick it up and eradicate the killer.

  My attention shifted to the factory doors, slightly ajar, so close, and yet it seemed as though I’d have to walk miles to reach them. Was it worth my life? I could come back—in an hour or two—but would they have sealed the sector off? Most likely, yes. That’s what they said they were going to do.

  I didn’t need to kill him. He’d spared my life, had given me a chance no other would have. I could leave and not mention the encounter. Nobody knew I’d come here. No one would be the wiser. Except me. And I still wouldn’t have the part I needed to protect my people.

  I shuffled from foot to foot. Would he shoot me when I turned to run? Was he playing with me, or had I really seen what I thought I had?

  “You either leave now, or, when I turn around, I’ll have to clean up another mess.”

  Run! I could tell from the tone of his voice he wasn’t posturing. He meant every word, and it wasn’t a threat. Men like him had little need for threats. I didn’t wait to see if what he said was true, but bolted, tripping over a root growing through the pavement. My fall seemed to go in slow motion. I watched as the ground crept closer and closer, but I couldn’t seem to throw my hands out in time to catch myself. When I hit face first, stars exploded across my vision and pain radiated across my face and through every nerve in my body. I doubted a hammer to the forehead would hurt as bad.