Our Dark Duet (Monsters of Verity #2)(60)

“What happened to August?”

Ilsa’s hands fell away.

She shook her head, but Kate had the feeling that Ilsa wasn’t saying no, so much as expressing some great sadnesss.

The elevator stopped on the training floor, and the doors slid open. As Kate stepped out, Ilsa brightened, holding up one hand. The other vanished into the deep pockets of her sundress, and a second later she produced Kate’s tablet. The one Soro had taken.

Ilsa held the device up, as if in answer, before pushing it into Kate’s hands. Kate stared down at the tablet, then slipped it into her vest pocket as her watch chimed a warning. She was out of time.

At one end of the corridor stood an exit, unguarded.

At the other, the door to the training hall.

Kate swore under her breath and took off running.

She was late.

Team Twenty-Four was already gathered, two of the older soldiers squaring off, one with a red kerchief knotted at his throat.

“Your objective,” the instructor was saying, “is to subdue the Fang as quickly as possible.” The woman saw Kate jogging up and a malicious little glee sparked on her face.

“Ten laps.”

Kate opened her mouth to say something, but the rest of the team was already heading for the track. Nobody argued or groaned, but she knew the moment they started running that whatever traction she’d earned that morning was officially gone. Boots appeared out of nowhere, clipping her ankles or heels.

Kate stumbled once or twice, but didn’t fall, and soon the team gave up trying to trip her and focused on leaving her behind.

“You came back.”

It was Mony, her stride easy, as if she could do this all day.

“I’m starting to regret it,” said Kate.

As they circled the hall, Kate watched a dozen other teams practice the same maneuvers, watched as a pair toward the center scuffled, and went down in a tangle of limbs that ended with the “Fang” pinned, one arm behind his back. The soldier started to let him up when the “Fang” threw an elbow. It was a dirty move—but the message was clear. The Fangs wouldn’t fight fair.

“What happens if you can’t subdue them?”

“We don’t have a choice. It’s a crime to kill another person.”

“Sure, but has it ever happened?”

“Tanner,” said Colin, a stride or two behind them.

“Alex Tanner,” said Mony, picking up speed. Colin yelped, but Kate lengthened her stride to keep up.

“Go on.”

“Alex was a North City guy in the first batch of converts. Never should have had a gun. The kind of man just looking for an excuse to shoot something, you know? Which is fine if all you’ve got to shoot are monsters.”

Their shoes found a steady rhythm.

“But his first time out, he empties his weapon into a group of Fangs. Didn’t even try to bring them in.”

“What happened?”

“His squad tried to cover for him,” called Colin, breathless.

“Idiots,” muttered Mony. “Like that kind of thing just washes off. Sunai can smell it. So, the Council decided to make an example. They gathered all the squads here in the hall, and brought Tanner out, and made us watch while that one”—at this, she flicked her head toward the doors and Kate twisted to see Soro, straight-backed and chin high, surveying the hall—“reaped him. An object lesson in what happens to sinners.”

Kate’s chest tightened. “Did it work?”

“I’m telling you the story, aren’t I? Every now and then, someone messes up. Tensions get high, mistakes are made. They don’t make an example of those. When it happens, the soldier just disappears. There’s a saying in the ranks: Soro comes for the bad, but Ilsa comes for the sorry.”

They ran a full lap before Kate spoke again.

“What about August?”

Colin panted. “What about him?”

“Well, if Soro reaps the bad and Ilsa reaps the sorry, who does August reap?”

Mony snorted. “Everyone else.”





August made his way to the stage.

The crowd parted, staggering out of his way as if he were a live coal.

I’m willing to walk in darkness . . .

He drew the violin from its case, kept his focus on the bow and the strings instead of the people beyond.

I’m willing . . .

He began to play.

The song spiraled out, but for once, his limbs didn’t loosen, his mind didn’t clear. August wanted to lose himself in the music, to relish these rare moments of peace, but Kate’s words were lodged like a splinter in his skull.

What happened to the August I knew?

What happened?

Things change.

I’ve changed.

He had changed.

It was just—his brother wanted him to be like his violin, the one made of steel, but August felt like the first one, the one left shattered on the bathroom floor in Kate’s house beyond the Waste. An instrument of music reduced to slivers and sharp fragments.

There was Leo, telling him to be the thing the monsters feared, and Soro, who made him feel selfish for wanting to want to be human, and Ilsa, who made him feel like a monster for not wanting it enough, and Henry who seemed to think he could be everything to everyone, and Kate, who wanted him to be someone he couldn’t be anymore.