Save yourself.
It’s three hours later. What happened out there – I can’t even think about it.
My arms are shaking as I paddle up the street. I’m so exhausted I can’t think anything except I’m glad I moved my gear down the hill into the flooded central district. If I had to drag myself and my kayak up the hill…
My whole body aches. The sun’s already dipping down behind the far hills, but for an abandoned, smashed-up city, Wellington’s still bright at night: it was one of the first cities to take up drac-tech when the Protectorate arrived, pretending to want nothing but friendship, and the tech still works, even now the Protectorate has abandoned us. Even underwater. Submerged shopfronts light my kayak from below; street lights, their bulbs only a few feet above the level of the water, light the air around me and the ragged upper floors and roofs of the terraced buildings.
The lights don’t go out, even in the depths of night. Yes, moving into town was a good idea. Especially now. I couldn’t sleep without light and alcohol before, so God knows what it’ll take now.
The dragon told me to save myself. But I’ve been doing that for the last ten years. Once, I wanted to save the world, but I had to narrow down my dreams. And I’ve managed it. One day at a time, always careful not to look at tomorrow until it was too late to avoid it.
And God, it’s exhausting. So many tomorrows and now the sun’s dropping behind the far hills and the wind is rising and the last of the dragon’s compulsion has faded, and I’m so tired I could just… I could…
Save yourself.
My mouth twists. The dragon’s words still echo in my mind, even if they’ve lost their power. Every time I find my thoughts wandering, I hear his voice again.
And the memory of his lips, surprisingly soft, against mine.
“Tay?”
I freeze. “Who’s there?”
“Just me.”
Sia Mackie peels herself out of a patch of shadow on the other side of the street-canal, and I relax. Good. This makes one thing easier, but—
“How long have you been waiting there?” I ask, unable to keep an accusing tone from my voice. “Are you checking up on me?”
Sia raises her eyebrows. It’s the most non-committal non-answer possible, and even though I know she’s doing it to deliberately rile me up, it works.
“I don’t need you fussing over me all the time!” I snap, and she snorts.
“Course you don’t.” She picks her way around the edge of the building, keeping her feet out of the water.
I catch hold of a power pole, but not quickly enough. My kayak has drifted under a streetlight.
Sia rearranges the straps of her pack as she approaches me. “Living out here on your own, hardly speaking to anyone except to trade for booze or – Jesus, Tay! What happened?”
I rub my face, which only makes it hurt worse. “I, uh…”
Sia scrambles down, no longer trying to avoid the water, splashing along the submerged veranda that runs the length of the street until she’s as close to me as she can get without jumping in. “Shit, Tay. You’re really hurt.”
I shrug – carefully. “Just scrapes and bruises. Mostly.”
“Was it the Protectorate?” Sia narrows her eyes. I’ve never been sure how much she’s figured out of my past, and how much she just suspects. “There hasn’t been anything from the Spire—”
I glance automatically towards the Spire, which rises up from the old Parliament buildings further along the coast.
It reaches up into the clouds, a darker black than the night sky except for the dim lights that ring it at intervals. Once, the lights moved and shimmered constantly, a reflection of the activity inside; now, they only change when a patrol comes through.
I shiver. “No. Something came through the Dome.”
“No.” Sia covers her mouth.
I explain quickly – a version of the truth with the dragon taken out of the story and the rest stitched around the gap. Sia’s dark eyes widen and I hurry to reassure her, “It’s okay. I killed it.”
“You…” For some reason, she doesn’t look reassured. The skin around her eyes goes tight with fear. “You actually—”