Poison Princess

Then I grew ashamed. What would Mom think of me now? The woman who’d tackled a Bagman would never surrender like this.

“Yeah, everybody’s totally evil now,” Finn said, jarring me from my thoughts. “What, didja miss the memo? Dickwads. Pretty much uniformly, in my experience. All evil, all the time. But not me.” In a grand ringmaster’s tone, he breathed, “I’m mischievous. . . .”

I turned to Matthew. “Once again, anytime you feel like contributing, please do. We need to figure out our own escape.”

He nodded winningly. “Cards.”

“Yes, Matthew, but you really need—” A wail sounded from the nearby woods. I shot up straighter. “What was that?”

“Bagmen at the gates, baby,” Finn said, excitement flashing in his hazel eyes. “It’s almost showtime. I’ve only seen this from a distance before.”

Suddenly the earth quaked, an explosion rocking the camp. I cried out. The deafening blast was so strong my teeth clattered.

Bits of debris rained down through the slats of the cage. Smoke billowed. Men yelled from all directions, barking orders for fires to be put out.

Matthew yawned as a larger explosion followed.

When we heard a raging whoosh from that giant cistern toppling over, I shared a stunned glance with Finn.

Bagmen in number. A cistern of water.

“We’ll be overrun,” he said. “A pretty ballsy distraction. Did your people make with the mayhem?”

Chaos had broken out among the militia. “Yeah. Our people.”

36

Smoke and fog blanketed the air until we could barely see five feet away.

But we could hear panicked soldiers all around us, fighting to secure their encampment. Then we heard a strangled yell: “Bagger breach!” They were past the militia’s defenses.

Guns popped, men screamed—and Bagmen howled as they swarmed the camp. The trio of guards in front of us shifted nervously, guns rattling in their shaking hands.

“Evie!” Jackson?

“I’m here!” He’d come for me!

An arrowhead suddenly jutted from one guard’s back. I just choked down a scream as he collapsed, twitching on the ground.

Jackson’s arrow.

The two remaining guards grew spooked, rifles at the ready, but they couldn’t see their enemy to fight.

Another arrow protruded from a second guard’s neck; he twirled toward us, patting his throat in bewilderment before he drowned on his own blood. The third guard got wise—and fled.

Then I spied Jackson sprinting through the smoke, hell-bent for our cage. He shoved soldiers out of the way, battering them with the end of his crossbow.

He skidded to a stop right before me, scanning me for injuries. “Bébé, are you okay?”

I nodded wordlessly.

“I’m goan to get you out of here.”

“The door’s padlocked, Jackson.”

“Putain.” But that didn’t stop him. He drew back his mighty fist and punched the boards, again and again, ripping at them to get to me. Splinters and blood flying.

I glanced behind him, caught sight of that third guard returning. Right when I was about to scream, Jackson yelled, “Selena, my six!”

The tip of a long arrow emerged from that guard’s chest. He’d just pitched onto his face when Selena came running up. My vision had come true. Sure enough, she saved someone I . . . love.

“Come on, J.D.!” she yelled. “It’s going to blow!”

What was going to blow? Something bigger than the current earthshaking explosions?

As Jackson freed Matthew and me, Finneas gawked at Selena—probably from witnessing her tableau, possibly because she was so freaking gorgeous anyway. “Another chick? Hellooo, hotness.” Though we were surrounded by a melee, Finn took his time checking her out. “Dude. It is raining hot ass today. Screw the toothless daughter—I’m coming with you guys.”

His bindings fell away. Sure enough, he’d escaped them.

Jackson grabbed my upper arm, and we started running, back in the direction of the van. I thought.

As we sprinted past the worst of the fray, I noticed several flaming arrows plugged that gas tanker. Time bomb.

“Come on, Evie!” Jackson was hauling me along; the rest of our group had run ahead. “You got to be faster than this!”

“Trying!”

He had just slowed, probably to toss me over his shoulder, when a soldier emerged from a bank of haze— with a rifle pointed at Jackson’s face.

It was Cou Rouge, the one who’d taken me. He wasn’t more than a few feet away—and he had Jackson dead to rights. “Just be steppin’ away from her, all nice and easylike, and we’ll let you go.”

Jackson evinced no fear. “Not goan to happen.”

“We only want the girl.”

“Well, now, that’s a problem,” Jackson grated, “ ’cause I just got her.”

Cou Rouge shrugged. “Suit yourself.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

Oh dear God, he was about to shoot, and Jackson couldn’t stop it, I couldn’t do anything—

The man pulled the trigger. Click. Nothing. Click. Nothing.

Empty?

Cou Rouge gaped at his gun, then at Jackson, at the chilling expression on the boy’s face.

The same look I’d seen that night in his house, the one promising pain; now it seemed multiplied by a thousand.

I was seeing how much Jackson was about to savor the pain he promised.

Cou Rouge gave a whimper just before Jackson lunged forward, one of his brutal fists connecting with the man’s jaw.

The man went down from a single hit, limp. But Jackson hauled him back up, beating him more, seeming mindless with rage. “Only want the girl?” Another blow shattered the soldier’s nose. “Worst thing you could ever have said!”

“Jackson!” I cried. “Please, let’s go!”

The man’s face grew unrecognizable, shapeless, and still Jackson beat him. I wasn’t witnessing a fight, or a rescue. I was beholding punishment.

A sentence.

When Matthew casually trotted back for me, catching my arm, Jackson yelled, “Get her out of here! I’m right behind.”

“Come with us, please!” I screamed as Matthew forced me away. “Nooo, Matthew! Go grab him!”

Matthew chuckled at that, then shoved me forward.

“Go back, go back!”

He just continued squiring me through a minefield of explosions, brawls, and Bagmen, maneuvering me in