Rise of a Queen

Chapter 12

It sounded safe.

But I knew this life was nowhere in my future. Even if we successfully rescue Dustin and somehow outrun the Council, Dustin would never enter a house like these.

He was built from gunfights and whiskey bottles, drags of smoke and late night rides, backroads and barbed wire. Dustin and Lumiere, even Brandon though he once tried to deny his heritage, they were men of war and raised in bloodshed. They are not normal, they are not mundane.

They are not safe.

When we reached the edge of those suburbs, I watched them fade away behind us, wishing those residents luck and better fortune than I.

Two lane roads gave away to highways and interstates that carried us closer to the city, and what a city it was. Buildings blasted into the air, taller than any I have ever seen and seemingly splitting the sky around their tops which glimmered in the early sunlight. Roads shot in all directions in crisscrossing patterns that layered the city like a checkerboard and were crowded with aggressive drivers on route to work. Honking echoed throughout the streets, shouts for taxis followed closely behind, and everywhere were people crossing roads and rushing down sidewalks.

My hometown in California was small and the town where the compound resided was no bigger. This place could swallow both and drown them in smog and hot dog vendors and people in suits chattering endlessly into their phones while gulping coffee.

It was brisk-paced and bustling, everyone moving faster than the person or car in front of them. Like waves on a beach the throngs of people surged and ebbed as crosswalks were consumed then abandoned with the changing of lights and torrent traffic.

My eyes snapped in every direction, trying to see everything at once but there was evidently too much. Billboards and signs, flashing lights, advertisements stacked atop one another. Everything was so confounding but surprisingly stimulating as well. There was so much here, immense life and curiosity along every lane, and I wanted to see everything because the likelihood of ever being in New York city again was incredibly slim.

But Brandon's reminder trampled through my head like herds on the move. This is not a vacation. This is a life or death rescue mission, ending only in success or ultimate failure.

After weaving through traffic and nearly missing several collisions from angry drivers, we left behind busy civilization and entered a portion of the city not yet woken. The streets here were empty, the buildings seldom as tall or as shiny and were decorated in tags of spray paint that layered older artwork with new hues that dripped down the bricks like freshly drawn blood. This too was beautiful in its own unique way and much closer to what I have become accustomed to while living with the Tribe.

We parked our motorcycles outside of a smaller building, only three floors in height with faded brick and windows boarded by plywood. Lumiere helped me off then parked the bike on its kickstand while I inspected our long awaited destination.

I have to admit ... I am a little underwhelmed.

After all the rumors about how impressive and dangerous the Council is, how devastatingly merciless they are with those who rebel or disobey, I was expecting something more ... evil-mastermind-ish. Perhaps a dark fortress with blood soaked accessories and thugs posted at every door where they could monitor the screams of their victims being tortured on the front lawn to display their terrifying power.

But this? Fading brick and broken glass, with the possibility of falling after one good kick? This was where the Council chose to live and rule, their palace from which they oversaw the community of crime across the continent? It wasn't intimidating and from it, I felt my confidence returning.