He leans forward suddenly, closing the distance between us. I flinch out of instinct. “You’re sure there’s nothing more you wish to share?” he breathes, lowering his voice to an almost growl. I shake my head fervently, edging back into the corner of the car until my back is pressed firmly against the door.
He sighs, disappointment and irritation growing across his features. “That is unfortunate, Evangeline. I’d hoped you would choose honesty, even in the midst of such vile truths.” His eyes flick up to mine, hard and unmoving.
“I–I am,” I stammer, my chest tightening.
“You’re not,” he responds tersely. “Because if you were, you’d share those pesky little details that you’re conveniently incapable of remembering. That you allowed the Arcane to transform you into a monster. A mutation roaming the streets, seeking blood and violence.”
“No,” I breathe, raising my hands to argue back.
“Oh yes,” my father sneers. “There were many witnesses, and those who did not witness you firsthand surely heard about it this morning. You know how gossip travels in the MidLands. The citizens have little else to fill their days, and idle chatter is always quick to spread.”
“I didn’t, I swear.” But even as the words leave my mouth, I slip into visions of the bloodstained claws. The feel of them as they tear through flesh and organs, spraying me with hot, fresh blood. I had never experienced that kind of transformation before. If it was my magic, I had no idea it existed within me. “Father, please believe me. Whatever happened was necessary to spare my life. To protect myself!”
“Nonsense! You defiled yourself, and worse yet, you let the whole of Requiesse know it.” His voice is loud, filling the small interior of the towncar until it reverberates off the leather and chrome finishes. “I told you, Evangeline. Youneeded to be more careful, you needed to be realistic about your limitations, about not corrupting yourself more than you already had.” He lifts a finger to rub across his bottom lip. “You didn't listen, and now look where we are.”
As if his words jog something within me, I cut a glance outside my window. The sun is dipping low on the horizon and I no longer recognize the roads around us. I can tell by the environment that we must be getting close to the city’s southern border, and with the late hour, dread begins to build in the pit of my stomach. “Father, where are you taking me?”
“You should have listened to me.” He shakes his head, refusing to meet my gaze. “You should have heeded my multitude of warnings. Because I havealwaystold you that you’d push too far one day, and I wouldn’t be able to save you.”
Hot, panicked tears sting the backs of my eyes. I shake my head, twisting from side to side as I try to understand where we are, what’s happening. “What are you doing?!” I grab at the car door handle, jerking it wildly and willing it to open.
The car rolls to a stop. Tremors take over my body as I turn to face my father. “What are you going to do?” I whisper, my voice cracking on the last word.
“The only thing you’ve left for me to do." He sighs. It fractures something deep inside me. He's not pained, regretful, remorseful—just more annoyed than anything. “This is your doing, Evangeline. Not mine. You haveexposed yourself to the entire city, to the Watchers. And have effectively tied my hands in the process. I have spent your entire life trying my damndest to protect you, to save you. And yet, you have fought me at every turn, riskedeverythingchasing your selfish desires.”
He motions to the driver in the rearview mirror and I hear the click of the locks.
“No, please,” I whimper, my hands gripping tight to the upholstery.
“You have no idea how much it hurts me to do this. But I’m afraid it’s the only path forward.” The car door gives way behind me, popping open. He lifts his cold eyes to me one more time, not shedding a single tear as he lifts his hand and releases a wave of his magic, shoving me backwards with two single words:
“Goodbye, Evangeline.”
I hit the ground hard, my body rolling over itself several times before coming to a stop. I push myself up, trying to blink through the stinging pain that is wrapping around me. Before I can even make sense of what is happening, before the blinding pain clears enough for me to see straight, his car is pulling away.
“Father!” I scream, throwing myself forward—as if the action will bring him back. Sobbing, shrieking, I throw myself against the gravel as I beg my body to respond, to do what I need it to do and run. But my cries are cut shortas a noise sounds to my left. I turn slowly to note exactly where my father has left me.
Buildings of the outskirts of the ungoverned district lie behind me, ramshackle warehouses and pieced-together shelters. The WildLands lie before me, so close that my spine tingles with fear. I’ve never been so far from home before. But as I swivel my head from left to right, I finally understand why he chose this spot.
Ghouls creep out of their makeshift hiding spots across the sparse landscape. Gaunt faces peer with empty eyes, their ash-grey skin visible through the tattered clothing hanging off their decaying bodies. I’ve heard the stories of how vicious they can be when they feed, especially in a horde like this. But it’s one thing to hear the tales whispered in the safety of the High Quarter borders. It’s another to experience it firsthand—stare it down and understand the fate you’re about to be dealt. They are starved, desperate, watching me with sunken eyes as they skulk forward and lift their faces skyward. Like hounds hunting prey, they sniff out my scent, readying for the attack.
Terror strikes my very core. I am outnumbered beyond belief. Whatever well of power I accessed last night to defend myself seems to be completely drained now, only pathetic weakness left behind. My ribs throb, my muscles still ache. And in the emptiness I feel inside, I realize the truth. There’s no possibility for survival.
And suddenly, my father’s message sinks in.
This wasn’t banishment. This was execution.
The vibration of my bike beneath me as we ride through the streets of the ungoverned district is a more than welcome feeling. It’s times like these I feel most at peace. It doesn’t matter that we’ve donned our veils, or that we're following orders from Andras, carrying out some sort of fucked up version of justice. The escape this bike offers me is a near religious experience. As close to the gods as I fear I will ever get.
I melt away when I ride, becoming something else. The issues of our world, this life—they become nothing but road noise. For the smallest moment, I can forget. Focus on nothing but the feel of the wheels hitting asphalt and the open road before me.
Too soon, I spot the horde of ghouls, pulling me back to the present. They're just on the edge of the ungoverneddistrict, between the last row of alleyways and ramshackle buildings. Nearly within the WildLands themselves. I motion for Quinn beside me to take the right, and for Zeke and Sterling behind me to go left. We circle wide, giving the ghouls a decent berth as we close in.
I find myself agreeing with Quinn’s earlier sentiments; I fucking hate ghouls. Every dealing we've ever had with them has ended messy. Their hungry souls crave life blindly; there’s no way to reason, repel, or prevent them. Just as their only motive is to drain life, our only means of fighting back is to kill them on sight. I might feel bad for whoever they were before turning. But our job is to maintain order within the ungoverned district. And there is no order in Decay.
I sigh as we close the distance, revving my engine a couple times to scatter the vermin on the periphery. When the first few take off, I notice a foreign figure slumped over in the midst of the horde. I cut my engine and whistle to Zeke, signaling the source of the ghouls’ interest. His eyes follow my gesture as he cuts his own engine.
“No guns,” I call out, wanting to keep this run as under the radar as possible. The last thing we need is a crowd of onlookers during a ghoul-feeding frenzy. Ghouls, for the most part, stick to the outer ring of the city, feeding off creatures from the WildLands. But every now and then, depleting resources or particularly tantalizing lifesources force them into hordes. While ghouls are easy enough tohandle in isolation, hordes could blow through soul after soul before being stopped.
