Reckless (The Powerless Trilogy Book 2)
Chapter 39

I’m soaked to the bone by the time Kai lifts me onto the edge of the pool.

The rain is falling harder now, stinging my eyes and slapping my skin. Kai pulls himself onto the grass beside me, his hair a damp mess over his forehead. He sprawls out on his back, shutting his eyes against the persistent rain.

When I move to stand, he wraps an arm around my waist to pull me down beside him. I gasp before laughing as I roll my head toward him in the wet grass. Peace pulls at his features, softens his lips into a slight smile.

He looks like relief.

I doubt he’s ever felt so free. There isn’t a soul besides mine and those surrounding us who knows where he is. And there is a certain comfort in being willingly lost, hidden from life itself.

We lie there for a long while, basking in nature’s shower. At some point, his hand replaces mine. He loosely interlocks our fingers, an action that is somehow more intimate than our time spent in the pool, as though he’s content to silently exist beside me.

A bright crack of lightning has me sitting up, eyes flying open. I look behind us to the soaking pack sitting in the damp grass and quickly stand to my feet.

Kai attempts to reach for me again, but I jump away with a laugh. “Come on, that’s enough laying around.” I scoop my pack off the ground, watching it drip like the rest of me. “We need to dry off, and so does everything else.”

He sits up, blinking in the rain. “Yeah, you’re shaking the chain with each shiver.”

At the mention of it, I shiver again. I turn, picking up the bow before backing into the strong body suddenly standing behind me. “I’ll take that,” he says against my ear. “My life has been threatened enough for today.”

I begrudgingly let him pull the weapon from my hands as I pour the water out of my boots, just to slip them back onto wet feet. Throwing my soaked shirt over my shoulder, I walk toward the wall of stone and trees separating us from the road beyond.

Climbing the slippery slope is a humbling endeavor. It takes several tries to pull myself over the top of the stone before I can attempt to reach the tree beside it. Kai follows behind as I slowly make my way to the ground, sighing in relief when my feet sink into the damp dirt.

I squint through the steady stream of rain. “Where’s the horse?”

Kai steps beside me, bow slung across his back. “The thunder must have spooked him. He’s probably long gone by now.”

I sigh. “I was just getting the hang of riding.”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” Kai asks, lips pulled into a smirk.

I put a hand to his cheek, pushing it as I walk by. The action feels comfortable in a way I wish it wouldn’t. So I keep my hands to myself as we walk down the flooded road, searching for shelter to wait out the storm.

We don’t make it far before a cluster of rocks catch my eye. A large, flat stone stretches across the ones beneath it, creating a makeshift canopy high enough for us to sit comfortably under. “This way!” I shout over the storm, turning us toward shelter.

When we duck under the rock, I sling the pack from my shoulders, breathing heavy. I’m about to plop down on the patch of dry ground when Kai says, “I need to go get firewood.”

Both our heads drop to the chain tethering us together. “All right.” He sighs, “We need to go get firewood.”

Forcing myself back into the rain is an effort of will. I drag my feet while Kai collects wood for our fire, breaking branches from trees and piling them into my arms.

My teeth are chattering by the time we make it back to our camp. “This wood won’t be easy to light,” Kai murmurs, arranging the wet branches for the fire we are about to attempt.

“We have two matches left,” I say, digging around in my soaked pack. My fingers replace the metal box and pull it out, relieved to replace the matches still dry.

“This wood won’t light on its own,” Kai says, looking up at me. “We need something to help start it. Do we have any paper?”

I’m about to shake my head when my eyes snag on the journal tucked between damp bedrolls. I swallow, slowly reaching a hand toward it. I can feel Kai’s eyes on me as I pull the leather book out and flip through the pages, replaceing them surprisingly dry.

“Here’s some paper,” I say quietly.

“No.” Kai’s voice is firm. “No, we aren’t using that.”

“It’s fine.” I nod, trying to convince myself. “I’m sure most of this is just research and notes. And I’d rather not freeze tonight so… it’s fine.” His eyes narrow, expression skeptical. “I’m fine.”

That seems to persuade him enough to nod slightly. I turn back to the book in hand, taking a breath before skimming the first few pages. His familiar handwriting makes me smile, makes me struggle to swallow. I squint in the dim light, urging my eyes to adjust to the growing darkness.

The first page tears easily. It talked of recipes for various remedies Elites can use when they are unable to get to a Healer. The second page was more of the same, consisting of measurements and herbs for common illnesses. The third page was filled with ink, swirling with scribbled notes describing a difficult patient.

Every piece of parchment burns easier than it tears. I hand each shred of my father to him, watching his life’s work go up in flames. It takes several pages to light the wood, and nothing but a weak flame to show for it. Kai tends to the fire, forcing it to grow despite the difficulty.

I ring out our shirts, laying them near the fire beside every other damp belonging. Then I lean against the stone to read over the remaining pages crinkled between the journal’s leather covers. I thumb through it, stopping to read entries about the many people he helped heal in the slums.

My fingers fumble on a thick piece of parchment near the back and my curiosity has me flipping to what lies behind it. A journal entry stares back at me, slanted letters staining the page. But this one is different from the rest. This one is personal and dated, deep thoughts spilled onto parchment.

I sit up slightly, my spine stiffening in shock.

The action doesn’t go unnoticed. “What?” Kai asks, fire forgotten.

“My father…” I shake my head at the page. “He kept a journal.”

Silence. “Yes, I gathered that.”

“No, I mean, he kept a journal.” I look up, eyes wide. “His own thoughts and feelings. A log of his life.”

“A diary,” Kai says quietly.

I nod, looking down at the book in my lap. “The first entry is dated more than ten years before my birth,” I say. The words are smudged and rushed, as though he thought it was wasted time to write of his own life. I look up to replace Kai’s gaze pinned on me. His nod of encouragement has me clearing my throat and reading the scribbled script.

“I suppose I’ll just write about this, since it’s treason to speak it to anyone else. The king offered me a job again. Well, more like threatened me with it. I was summoned to the palace to help his Healers during fever season, but I know his true intentions. He wants me out of the slums and into the upper city with the rest of the Healers. He doesn’t want anyone tending to the poor or less powerful, for that matter. I wouldn’t be surprised if he began another Purging, this time for the Mundanes. He thinks them to be weak like the Ordinaries, treating the slums like the scum beneath the shiny shoe that is his Elite kingdom.

“There is a reason no other Healer can be found anywhere near the slums. Greed is a plague that Ilya has yet to eradicate. But when the king offers each Healer more money than they could ever spend in their lifetime, they happily agree to whatever strings are attached. The conditions are simple enough—only care for the upper class and promote the idea that Ordinaries are weakening our powers through prolonged proximity due to the undetectable disease they carry.

“He is paying them off. What an expensive lie. Because no one will question what the Healers say they detect. For decades, the king has been buying the support of the only people who know this disease to be a lie. And it has worked beautifully. It’s not as though Healers care for Ordinaries. They may know that the ‘undetectable disease’ is a farce, but they also know that Ordinaries and Elites reproducing will dwindle our power and eventually cause our kind to go extinct. That alone is enough for their greed to promote the king’s lie and ensure that Elites never allow Ordinaries back in Ilya.

“It’s bullshit, but brilliant.

“And I’m the problem. The exception with a target on my back. The king is persuasive—I’ll give him that. His bribes are very tempting to a resident of the slums, but I can’t abandon the lower class, not when no one else will help with the sickness that spreads through the streets like wildfire.

“So the slums are where I will stay. The king will not buy my support.”

I blink at the familiar writing, hearing his voice with each word I read. My eyes skim over the page again. And again. And—

“Did you hear that?” I blurt, looking up at Kai.

He’s crouching in front of the fire, hands draped over his knees. He stares blankly at the flickering flame, nodding slightly. “I heard it.”

“Do you know what this means?” A crazed smile tugs at my lips. “This is proof, Kai. This is proof that there is no disease detected by the Healers. And the king—”

“The king has been bribing them to lie about it,” he finishes quietly. His gaze hasn’t strayed from the dim fire. “That is, if any of this is even true.”

“My father was no liar,” I snap, harsher then intended. I blow out a breath before calmly continuing. “Don’t you see? It all adds up. Your father had all the Healers under his control, somewhere he could watch them closely. And he wanted the slums to suffer because even some Elites are too weak for his liking.”

I hear him take a shaky breath. “No. No, that can’t be right.” He drags his fingers through damp hair. “I can’t let that be right because I’ve justified everything. Everything I’ve done as the Enforcer. It was all to protect the Elites and Ilya from this disease, but if Ordinaries aren’t weakening our powers…”

He trails off, running a hand over his face. I reach a hesitant hand toward him, unsure what to say. “Kai…”

“That would mean that he’s been killing Ordinaries to prevent them from reproducing with Elites. He’s been killing healthy, innocent people.” He finally looks over at me, gray eyes icy. “I’ve been killing healthy, innocent people.”

“You didn’t know,” I murmur. “How could you have? The king had every Healer spewing his lie.”

I turn away, shocked at the sincerity seeping into my words. I never thought I would sympathize with the crimes he’s committed against Ordinaries like me, but his head is in his hands, his hurt hidden behind the crumbling mask he wears.

Remorse is written all over his face. Anger is sketched into the stiffening of his shoulders, the storm raging in his eyes.

He’s spent his whole life living a lie that helped him live with himself.

He shakes his head, his shadow doing the same on the wall behind him. “It can’t be true.” He won’t look at me. “Are there any more entries? Anything else about this?”

I flip the page, replaceing more words sprawled there. “This one’s dated a few weeks later. Here, look at this.” I scoot closer to the fire, flooding the page with light and making it easier for us to read.

I had an idea while I was working in the palace today. A terrible, treasonous idea that shouldn’t be written down. But I know there are Ordinaries hiding in Ilya who need help surviving. Probably Fatals too. And maybe it’s naive to hope that there are Elites out there who believe killing Ordinaries to be wrong.

I want to replace those few. I want to build a community, something the king can’t ignore. I want to fight with the Ordinaries—for the Ordinaries and those alike.

I don’t know how yet, but I’m going to try.

I stare at the smudged page. “He’s talking about the Resistance.” I smile slightly. “No wonder he hid this journal beneath a floorboard. It’s incriminating.”

Kai nods as I flip the page so we can read the entry that follows.

I’ve been searching the abandoned buildings in the slums and have found a couple of Ordinaries willing to trust me. I invited them into my home and told them of my plans to fight for their right to live in Ilya.

There are more of us now—at least a dozen. Our little Resistance is growing. I’ve started training Ordinaries to “adopt” an ability, help them join society instead of hiding in abandoned buildings. Most take on the Hyper ability since it’s the easiest lie.

I’m still being summoned to the castle for fever season. The king’s bribes are tempting, but I play my part as a Healer and return to the slums.

Every time.

I eagerly flip the page, replaceing a different topic scribbled there.

I met an Ordinary girl. Well, a woman. She caught the fever while living in the slums, which usually means death. But I happened to replace her in time. She’s beautiful—a complete distraction as I worked. Something about her soul seemed to call to mine. I’m determined to marry her.

I finally did it. I married her.

I’m going to be a father. Alice has been throwing up all morning with a smile on her face. She’s convinced it’s a girl.

Tears threaten to fall as I read of the mother I never met. Through blurry vision, a date catches my eye, forcing my frantic fingers to a stop. “This one’s from three weeks before I was born,” I say quietly, looking up to replace Kai staring intently.

She lost too much blood. I couldn’t stop it. I’m a damn Healer and I couldn’t even save her. I buried her in the backyard with our baby. She was right. It was a girl.

My heart stops. Time slows.

“I buried her in the backyard with our baby.”

I shake my head, ignoring the hand Kai places on my knee. “I… I don’t understand. Father said she died of illness when I was a baby but…”

I trail off, tearing through the pages until I replace the next entry.

I wasn’t planning on writing in here after Alice. I wasn’t even planning on having an “after Alice,” but I woke to a bang on my door last night. Yet when I opened the door, no one was there. That is, until I looked down.

And there she was. A baby girl.

Someone left her on my doorstep. She can’t be more than a few weeks old with a head full of silver hair and deep blue eyes. She’s beautiful. Alice would tear up at the sight of her.

I’m going to be a father. This is what Alice would have wanted. She already had a name picked out anyway.

A tear splatters onto the parchment, drowning the ink.

I think Kai might be saying something, but I can hear nothing past the ringing in my ears. My head is spinning, heart pounding, breath catching in my throat because I can’t seem to swallow it. I can’t breathe. I can’t—

“Hey.” Kai’s rough hands on my face rip me from my thoughts. “Hey, look at me. You’re all right.”

I reach around his arms to viciously wipe at the tears leaking from my eyes. “No, I’m not all right!” I finally suck in a breath, blinking back the flood of emotion behind my eyes. “This can’t be right. I won’t believe it,” I sputter, repeating Kai’s own words. “This means… I was an orphan before I even lost my father.” A hysterical sob slips past my lips. “And that would make my whole life a lie.”

Kai shakes his head, expression stern. “No. Your life isn’t a lie, you hear me?” He lifts my face up, forcing me to look at him. “Just because you don’t share the same blood, it doesn’t mean he wasn’t your father. He raised you as his own. He chose to love you.”

Everything he’s saying makes sense—and I hate it.

I want to rage, want to scream, want to sit here and feel sorry for myself. Because a part of me feels betrayed, feels deceived by the man I called Father.

I silently flip to the next entry as Kai’s hands slowly slip from my face. I can feel his eyes on me, waiting for me to break.

But I’m tired of breaking. Tired of having to lug around pieces of myself that I’m too tired to fit back together.

I sniffle, returning my eyes to the page and continue reading numbly.

Without Alice, my only purpose now is the Resistance. It’s all that keeps me going. That, and Paedyn.

Tears splatter onto the page once more at the sight of my name. The pad of Kai’s thumb swipes across my cheek, stealing the tear from my skin. “Talk to me,” he murmurs, leaning close enough that I can’t ignore him.

I shake my head, struggling to swallow the emotion clogged in my throat. “The truth, then?”

He nods. “The truth, always.”

I take a shaky breath, fighting tears between each one that follows. “I’ve spent my whole life accepting the fact that I would never truly be able to live it. I’m an Ordinary, and that’s fine—I’m living with it. I’ve come to terms with what I am not, and I’ll deal with it until the day I die. But—”

He takes my shaking hand into his own, urging me on with a single steady look. “But I’ve paid my dues, haven’t I?” The words are a gasp, as though they were ripped from my throat. “Have I not suffered enough? I am already nothing, but now I belong to no one. The one thing in my life that was right and real and mine alone has been ripped away from me.” I take a shuddering breath, blinking blankly into the fire. “Just like everything else.”

He’s shaking his head at me, reaching up a hand to push stray hair out of my face. “You cannot be nothing when you are everything to someone else.” My eyes climb up to his, replaceing them avoiding mine. It takes several heartbeats for him to open his mouth, spilling words that sound unsure. “And that is what you were to your father. Whether or not he was your flesh and blood. He loved you more than most.”

His words hit me hard—a reminder of how anything is better than what he endured by a man who truly was his father. I quiet, attempting to calm my breathing. Then I’m flipping the page, ignoring the unshed tears welling in my eyes. I force my eyes to focus, to continue reading. His words are my distraction, his handwriting a comfort.

I met a Fatal today in the streets. He pulled me into an alley and whispered that he wanted to help with my idea—which he only knew about because he happened to be a Mind Reader.

We talked for hours about the struggles he’s endured and how he wants to see Ordinaries and Fatals free once again. But we first need to replace those who are hiding in plain sight.

“Calum,” I whisper, knowing exactly who this Mind Reader is. The next page is a hurried collection of several days.

Calum has found us three more Ordinaries already. He scours the streets, reading thoughts until he replaces a mind that screams their secret. His method is much quicker than mine. We all met tonight to discuss our plans.

Several of our Ordinaries haven’t been to a meeting in weeks. I’m beginning to worry that something has happened. Likely an Imperial’s doing.

We’ve cleared out the cellar beneath the house to use for meetings. There are too many of us now to go unnoticed. I fashioned a bookshelf over the cellar door, concealing the entrance in case we get unexpected visitors.

I thumb through the pages, skimming over years of growing the Resistance.

I’ve appointed leaders to different sectors of the slums. We can no longer all meet at my house. Now, just us leaders hold meetings to discuss how the Resistance is doing. We have plans to confront the king and his lies, but we are much too weak to attempt that now. Maybe in the next few years.

“Gray.”

He says my voice softly, attempting to wake me from my stupor. Ignoring the concern crinkling his brow, I furiously flip through the remaining pages. Blank parchment stares back at me until my fingers still on a longer log.

I forgot about this journal. Apparently, it’s been six years since I last wrote in here. There’s not much to say other than how big Paedyn is getting.

It’s clear now why she was left on my doorstep. She’s Ordinary. Her parents didn’t want to deal with hiding a child. And, damn, are they missing out on her.

She’s got this fire about her. This quickness. I’ve been training her differently, more extremely. I never want her to feel anything but strong. And when I noticed how observant she was as a young child, I figured it was best to stick to her strengths. So I’m sharpening that little mind of hers into a weapon to protect herself with. As a “Psychic,” she can do more than pass as an Elite, more than survive. She can live.

I told her about Alice. Except the truth of how she died. Pae thinks it’s illness that took her away from us shortly after she was born. I’ve lost sleep trying to decide if I should ever tell Paedyn the truth. But I am the only father she’s had, and even in death, Alice is her mother.

Ink smudges down the page, smearing as though he shut the book in a hurry. I ignore the look of growing concern painting Kai’s face as we continue to read the next page dated several years later.

I haven’t told her about the Resistance. I will. Eventually. It has gotten more difficult to hide it from her as she’s gotten older. I don’t know why I haven’t told her. Maybe I don’t want to get her involved. Maybe she’s still just my little girl despite how strong she’s become. Even though she doesn’t need it, I want to protect her for as long as I can. And being a part of the Resistance is dangerous. The king knows of us now, his Imperials ordered to be on the lookout.

Maybe it’s best she doesn’t know until the Resistance is ready to make a move. Maybe it’s best she stays my little girl for as long as possible.

I flip the page, my vision blurry.

Nothing.

My fingers fumble with the corners, tearing through each piece of parchment only to replace them empty.

When my thumb meets the back cover, I stare at the leather binding representing the end of his life. The closing of a chapter. “That’s it,” I whisper. “That’s the last entry he wrote.”

I’m tired. Too damn tired to replace the energy to feel anything more. So I slump against the stone, shoving the journal back into my pack.

Kai watches, running his eyes over me. He looks hesitant to interrupt my lack of thoughts. “Are you okay?”

I rub my hands over my eyes, feeling tears tickle my fingers. Then I settle my blank stare on him. “I always replace a way to be.”