The Last Smile in Sunder City (The Fetch Phillips Archives #1) - Luke Arnold Page 0,58
kind of cosmic quicksand. Eventually, the soil would be rich enough to become fully active. Once that happened, the next animal that entered into it would be absorbed. That’s how we got Dragons. The animal and the activated earth merged to become one miraculous beast. Then the entire piece of land would get up and walk away leaving a big ol’ crater in its wake. The most common pits were formed out in the Ragged Plains where the explosive desert-dust made life inhospitable for most creatures. Only the leather-backed lizards that could survive the heat wandered into those pits. Therefore, most of the Dragons evolved from those rock-skinned reptiles.
Even though this Dragon pit was rendered dormant by the Coda, it was still highly dangerous. A deep pool of molten rock bubbled away, filled with some half-formed element stuck between two worlds. If you wanted something gone, it was as good a place as any.
The pit wasn’t hot or explosive. It was almost silent, other than a gentle hissing and the occasional pop of escaping gas. It constantly moved like it was rolling in bed but couldn’t ever get comfortable.
We didn’t say anything to each other. Pete just dropped the kid’s feet by the bank and kicked them in. I pushed from the shoulders and the pit seemed to reach up and swallow the midnight snack.
I didn’t want to be here. I was supposed to be finding missing people, not making them disappear myself. But this is who I am: a spineless kid who can get talked into anything because he thinks it will make up for his mistakes.
The trail of rope slid in after the boy but Pete had already turned and walked away. I followed. Hating myself for coming here and hating Pete for what he’d done.
We walked through tall grass, abandoned timber mills and dead forests. We walked till our backs cracked and our boots choked on swollen feet.
On the outskirts of the city, the sun frowned over the east and I pulled myself up at an old checkpoint. I sat on the guard stool beside the boom gate and turned the soles of my feet inward to give them a break from treading on the world.
Pete stopped but didn’t turn around; he just stared out towards the city and tapped his long foot. He was waiting for me to catch my breath and likely hoping that I wouldn’t ask him those questions that didn’t need asking.
We were at the point in the road where the Maple Highway reached the city limits and became Main Street. The first lamp was beside me; a copper pole with a cradle at the top, filled with dark soot and spider webs.
“Why would he come alone?” I finally asked. “If the kid attacked you, he was too much of a coward to—”
“I’m not interested in playing your little detective game, Phillips. He didn’t find me. I found him. You told me what he looked like and what he planned to do so I tracked him down. Not because I was scared or I wanted to strike first but because I could. Because I had an excuse. I waited till he left the bar and I jumped him.”
I’d always remembered Pete as garrulous and flowery; he was a diplomat, after all. I’d never heard him speak so plainly about anything.
“He was just an angry kid, Pete.”
“I know.”
“So, you don’t feel anything?”
“Like what?”
“Guilt?”
He smiled with the half of his face that could.
“Yeah, I do. But you know more than anyone why that doesn’t matter.”
“Do I?”
“Yeah. Because guilt feels good. Well, it feels a hell of a lot better than the other demons singing in my head since this world shat itself out all over the place. Sure, this is bad, but I’ve seen worse. I’ve lived through far worse. And I’d rather be ashamed of the things I’ve done than ashamed of the things that others have done to me.”
The logic tried to fit into my ears but I didn’t want to let it in.
“You want proof, Fetch? Look in the mirror. You hold on to guilt like it’s a life preserver. So angry at yourself, and your mob, that you can’t smell the blood on the hands of the rest of us. But it isn’t about you and your kind tonight. It’s just me. Sometimes, the one who looks like a monster turns out to be a monster.”
He shrugged and turned away, and there it was; the scratch that causes the infection.