Thunderhead (Arc of a Scythe #2)(61)

“Not the turkeys the Thunderhead grows,” said Citra.

Marie nodded. “My point exactly.”





* * *




There are few left who truly worship anything. Faith is an unfortunate casualty of immortality. Our world has become both uninspired, and untortured. ?A place where miracles and magic have no mystery. With the smoke blown away, and mirrors aligned, it is all revealed as manifestations of nature and technology. For anyone who wishes to know how the magic works, all they need to do is ask me.

Only the tone cults carry on the tradition of faith. ?The absurdity of what Tonists believe is both charming and, at times, disturbing. There is no organization among the different sects, so practices vary, but they do share several things in common. They all loathe scythes. And they all believe in the Great Resonance—a living vibration audible to human ears that will unify the world like a biblical messiah.

I have yet to come across a living vibration, but if I do, I will certainly have many things to ask it. ?Although I expect its responses may be, well, monotonous.

—The Thunderhead



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25


Specter of the Truth


Rowan awoke in a bed he did not know, in a room he had never seen. Right away, he sensed he wasn’t in MidMerica anymore. He tried to move, but his arms were tied to the bedposts. Not just tied but buckled with leather straps. There was a dull ache in his back, and although he wasn’t gagged anymore, his mouth felt funny.

“About time you woke up! Welcome to San Antonio!”

He turned, and to his surprise, he saw none other than Tyger Salazar sitting there.

“Tyger?”

“I remember how you used to always be there at the revival center when I woke up after splatting. I figured I’d do the same for you.”

“Was I deadish? Is that what this is? A revival center?” Even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t.

“Naah, you weren’t dead,” Tyger said. “Just knocked out.”

Rowan’s head was foggy, but he hadn’t forgotten the circumstances in Scythe Brahms’s home that had rendered him unconscious. He ran his tongue over his teeth and realized that they weren’t right. They were uneven, and much shorter than they were supposed to be. Smooth, but shorter.

Tyger caught what he was doing. “Some of your teeth got knocked out, but they’re already growing back. Probably a day or two and they’ll be back to normal—which reminds me . . .”

He reached over to a nightstand and held out a glass of milk to him. “For the calcium. Otherwise your healing nanites’ll steal it from your bones.” ?Then he remembered that Rowan was tied to the bedposts. “Oh, right. Duh.” He bent the straw toward Rowan’s mouth so he could drink—and although Rowan had a thousand questions, he drank because more than anything he was thirsty.

“Did you really have to fight them when they came to get you?” ?Tyger said. “If you had just gone along with it, you wouldn’t have been hurt, and they wouldn’t have had to tie you down.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Tyger?”

“You’re here because I needed a sparring partner!” he said brightly. “I asked for you.”

Rowan wasn’t sure he’d heard him right. “Sparring partner?”

“The guys who went to recruit you said you were a grade A jerk. You laid into them, and they had no choice but to fight back—do you blame them?”

Rowan could only shake his head in disbelief. What was going on here?

Then the door opened, and if the moment was already strange, now it became downright surreal.

Because standing before Rowan was a dead woman.

“Hello, Rowan,” said Scythe Rand. “So good to see you.”

Tyger furrowed his brow. ?“Wait, you know each other?” ?Then he thought for a moment. “Oh, right—you were both at that party—the one where I saved the High Blade from drowning!”

Rowan felt the milk coming back, and he coughed, gagging on it. He had to swallow again, forcing it to stay down. How was this possible? He had ended her! He had ended them all—Goddard, Chomsky, and Rand—they had burned to ash. But here she was, a bright green phoenix back from the ashes.

Rowan pulled against his bonds, wishing they would break, but knowing they wouldn’t.

“So get this,” said Tyger, all smiles. “I’m an apprentice, just like you were. Only difference is, I’m gonna get to be a scythe!”

And Rand smiled. “He’s been such a fine pupil.”

Rowan tried to get his panic under control and focused in on Tyger, trying to force Scythe Rand out of his mind, because he could only handle one thing at a time.

“Tyger,” he said, looking his friend in the eye, “whatever you think is going on here, you’re wrong. You’re horribly wrong! You need to get out of here. ?You need to run!”

But Tyger laughed. “Dude!” he said. “Calm down. Not everything is some big-ass conspiracy!”

“It is!” Rowan insisted. “It is! And you have to get out before it’s too late!” But the more Rowan said, the more deranged he knew he sounded.

“Tyger, why don’t you go make Rowan a sandwich? I’m sure he’s hungry.”