Between Burning Worlds (System Divine #2) - Jessica Brody Page 0,238

was so clever,” the general spat, his knuckles turning white around the edges of the TéléCom. “Little Madeline Villette. She thought she could swoop in here and take everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.”

Marcellus’s brow furrowed. What was he talking about? Was he trying to distract Marcellus? Confuse him into lowering his weapon? It wouldn’t work. Marcellus held his rayonette strong and steady, the barrel pointed directly at his grandfather’s chest.

“But the blood whore gave herself away when she walked into that bordel last week,” the general went on. “I never believed for a second that she was really dead. Did her mother actually think that I would buy her desperate, pathetic story and give up? Just like that? I have spent the past sixteen years setting traps for that girl. Monitoring blood at the bordels, the med centers, the Policier Precincts. I have searched to the ends of this system for her. But up until a week ago, it was as though the wretched girl had simply disappeared. I knew she was still out there, though. And I knew that one day she would make a mistake. She would reveal herself. As usual, I was right.”

Marcellus still had no idea what his grandfather was talking about. He’d been trying to track down Alouette for sixteen years? Why? Marcellus told himself to remain calm. Stay focused. His grandfather was just toying with him, attempting to break his concentration. But he would not break. He would pull this trigger, and he would put an end to it all.

Do it.

Do it now!

From the balcony, Marcellus could still hear the mayhem on the Imperial Lawn below. Bodies being torn apart. People screaming. Officers shouting commands to try to restore order. And yet, somehow, his finger was frozen. Paralyzed.

Why couldn’t he do it?

“I told you,” General Bonnefaçon sneered, mocking Marcellus’s hesitation. “Your heart is too soft. It’s always been a flaw of yours that I despised. Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve never brought down a single bird on all those hunting trips. Not because you can’t shoot. But because you can’t kill. It’s not in your nature, Marcellus.” He let out a low chuckle. “It’s a shame really. You got your father’s cowardice and your mother’s tender heart. A terrible combination.”

Every molecule inside of Marcellus caught fire at once. “My father was a hero!” he roared. “He had the courage to stand up to you and this entire Regime. He joined the Vangarde because he wanted to make the planet a better place. And so did I.” A heavy lump formed in his throat, softening his voice. “I still do. Which is why you won’t get away with this. I know everything. I know you framed my father for the copper exploit. I know you killed the Premier Enfant. I know you’re trying to kill the Patriarche so you can take control of the planet. And I won’t let you get away with it.”

Suddenly, there was a blur of movement as the general launched himself toward Marcellus. Marcellus pulled the trigger, but it was too late. He didn’t have the aim. He didn’t have the steadiness. His grandfather barreled into him like a voyageur breaking atmosphere. He heard something crack that he was pretty sure was a rib. The rayonette slipped from his grasp. He fell to the ground, the impact knocking the breath and the fight right out of him.

No! he thought desperately. He would not let this happen again. He would not lie down on another cold marble floor and let himself be beaten. He was not that boy anymore.

He was the son of Julien Bonnefaçon.

He was raised by Mabelle Dubois.

He had the blood of rebels in his veins and the words of revolutionaries in his head.

The kick came, swift and powerful and merciless. Marcellus rolled, dodging his grandfather’s boot just before it made contact with his side. He scrabbled up to his knees and reached for the rayonette, but another kick landed on his hand and he cried out in pain. The general bent down to grab the weapon. Marcellus let out a roar and dove toward him, clobbering him with his entire aching, sore body. The rayonette skittered across the room, disappearing under a chaise on the balcony.

The two men clashed like First World warriors, throwing punches wherever they would land, grabbing clothes and limbs and flesh, fighting for position. Out of the corner of his eye, Marcellus saw a glint of something shiny on the floor.