Rebel Song (7 page)

“I think she’s smart enough to end up with the right type. I think there’s a bigger plan for that one,” Rogan assured him. Donal gave him a soft smile.

“You’re a good kid, Rogan. Your da woulda been proud. You’ve got his sensibility and his vision.”

Rogan nodded in thanks and allowed himself a moment of sadness.

“Damn rebels conspiring again, eh?” A bawdy voice in his ear ruptured Rogan’s thoughts. He jolted back and jerked his hand to his knife, spilling his wine, only to be met by a hearty laugh. Instantly, his grip loosened and he rolled his eyes in annoyed recognition.

“So nice of you to finally join us, Ben,” Rogan muttered. Benton smacked his back, causing his wine to again slop over the edge of his glass.

“Ach! Wasn’t my fault. You boys wouldn’t a left my bed either if you’d seen what was in it.” He pursed his lips with satisfaction.

“Hopefully it wasn’t four-legged,” Rogan retorted.

“Hah!” Benton sat heavily, heaving his satchel onto the table and helping himself to an indulgent slurp from Rogan’s glass. He set down the glass firmly and wiped his scruffy chin.

“They have more you know,” Rogan said, eyeballing his depleted wine.

“Always the miser, Elwood. Shame on you,” Benton gave a wide, charming grin, filled with straight, white teeth. “Bring me my own and you won’t have to share. Cella!”

Cella scurried to the table, her eyes wide with infatuation for the always popular Benton Hollister.

“You called?” She cooed, batting round doe eyes and toying with a tendril of wheat blonde hair.

“Another round for my gents here, eh? Thanks, love.” Ben reached out his broad hand and affectionately—if not somewhat inappropriately—and ran it across her forearm. Cella’s round face reddened until she looked like a ripe apple and she nodded eagerly. Benton turned his focus back to the table.             

“Oh, don’t look at me like that. She likes it.”

“Will you both just please leave my staff alone?” Donal complained.

“You’re both going to be begging for my love too when you see what I’ve brought.” Benton ran his fingers along his pack in the same way he might touch a girl’s arm and nonchalantly glanced around the room.

“What is it?” Rogan asked. He reached to open the pack, only to be met by a fierce swat from Benton.

“Not
here,
” Benton growled through gritted teeth. “Are you crazy?”

Rogan stiffened, realizing it wasn’t smuggled whiskey or lewd magazines Ben had come to share, but the kind of contraband that would find them all at the business end of the firing squad if they were caught. Donal’s lips tightened and he nodded in understanding.

“Well, I’m a bit worn out then, boys,” Donal said rolling his neck, releasing an orchestra line of pops and cracks. “Think it’s probably time I hit the hay. If either of you wanted to store your things in the back room for safekeeping while you drink, it will be freed up in twenty minutes for Benton and a half hour for Rogan.”

They both offered a slight nod of acknowledgement. They stood, shook hands gratefully, raised a glass, clinked and drank.

“Iris said the Rangers had been here tonight,” Rogan said after a few silent moments once they were sure there was no one within earshot.

“Aren’t they always? Those bastards can’t seem to leave the Valley alone. Convinced it’s the hub of some rebellion.” Benton grinned.

“Imagine that.”

“It won’t be the last we see of them,” Ben wiped a few scarlet drops from his scruffy chin, examining the drops between his thumb and middle finger. “They are utterly obsessed with blood.”

“How much do you think they know? I mean
really
know?” Rogan scanned the room suspiciously. Benton shrugged and let out a frustrated sigh.

“It’s so hard to know exactly. Ballantyne isn’t stupid, nor is that monkey Minister General Pantone. They know something is stirring and they know where to look. We just know where to hide.”

“We can’t hide forever, Ben. People are getting restless; people are
dying.
”

“Don’t you think I know that? These things take time. We aren’t ready. For any of it.”

“They’re already rioting in the North.”

“Well, things have been a lot worse in the North for a lot longer. They’ve been left to rot since the Northern War left them broken and burned. And the
firms.
You know how bad they’ve gotten. The Calibri Family is practically terrorizing people up there—people don’t even want to leave the house.”

“Yeah, and what happens when that starts to trickle south?”

Ben shook his head.

“These people here…they have the heart, I know they do. But they don’t have the stomachs for a fight. This isn’t Ballantyne’s first dance with sedition. That dynasty sits on a bloody throne and will continue to unless we do this
right.
”

Rogan chewed on his lip, mulling over the words. As long as they’d known each other, Benton had been a commanding orator. Paired with his sharp features and captivating dark eyes, people couldn’t help but love him. He had the same charisma that Cable had—only passion often clouded Ben’s reasoning.

“So much violence,” Rogan muttered.

“Huh?”

“It just all comes down to which sides dies the least.”

“Rogan…” Ben searched for words. “That’s how war works.”

“Don’t think for a moment that I don’t know how war works.” Rogan’s eyes narrowed and his grip tightened around his tumbler. Benton reached out and touched his friend’s forearm in a way only the closest of friends can without seeming condescending.

“Sorry. I know you know. I can’t even begin to understand where you’ve been.”

Rogan relaxed his grip. They’d all lost so much. Rogan had lost his father to the cause but Benton had lost his father to the Northern War, before Ben ever really had a chance to know him. Donal said Gregor Hollister came back from the war alive in body, but dead in the soul. He turned to drinking,
heavily.
The years had not improved his disposition. As far as Rogan was concerned, every fist Ben ever took from Gregor growing up was on the King’s head.

“Truth is, there isn’t a person in this Valley—hell, in this city—who doesn’t. Now I think it’s time you showed me what the hell is in that bag,” Rogan said.

Benton excused himself first and moved casually toward the men’s restroom before ducking into the back room. As instructed, Rogan waited ten more minutes, talking up Iris as she passed on her rounds to dispel suspicion. They could always count on her discretion.

Rogan made his way into the dimly lit storage room where Donal and Ben sat hunched over a rustic table, whispering. Ben clutched his satchel, still protecting it with his life, his knife a spit-second away from a kill if need be. Benton was born for secrets.

“Good,” Donal said in the same soft whisper. “Now we can get started.”

CHAPTER 11

Benton reached into his satchel and carefully lifted out a bundle swaddled in a thin blanket. He unwrapped the layer, revealing a package wrapped in crude brown paper.

“Good Sants, man, are you trying to kill us with the suspense?” Donal grumbled.

Benton ignored him and continued opening the package with the delicate precision of someone handling an explosive. Once the wrapping was brushed aside, Benton revealed a stack of papers with small faded type.

“What is that?” Rogan asked. Ben raised an eyebrow and twisted the left side of his mouth up in a calm, collected smirk.

“These, my boys, are transcripts. Proof that our esteemed Minister General Pantone plans to rig next spring’s High Council and county elections. And he’s going to use a little
firm
intimidation to do it,” Ben said.

Donal choked on his wine, nearly knocking himself over.

“What the hell are you talking about? Plans to rig the Council election?” Donal leaned over and squinted at the fine print.

“He knows the cause is gaining momentum across the counties. He can’t risk the council being taken over by a bunch of free-thinking progressives, can he? Pantone and Henri got it all set to skew the results and keep the status quo, using firm manpower to ease the process.”

“Ben,” Rogan started carefully. “I know he’s an evil bastard, but rigging a national election? Joining up with organized crime families? That’s pretty far-fetched.”

“Is it? Don’t for a minute put it past them. Most of the major posts are up for reelection next term, including the seat for Minister General.”

“The High Council is appointed by the King. He doesn’t have to rig it,” Rogan pointed out.

“That’s only half true, right, Donal?”

Donal nodded slowly, eyeing the stolen papers fearfully.

“It’s true that they have to win an approval nomination from two thirds of the counties first. All nominees do. Then Henri can appoint who he sees fit from that pool.”

“What makes you think Pantone will even have a contender? He’s sat in the Minister General seat unopposed for the last three terms. No one has even come close to gaining enough votes to even make it to the King’s veto,” Rogan said.

“You think the Cause will let this opportunity fall? They aren’t afraid anymore and they won’t be intimidated at the polls. We have nothing left to lose. Pantone knows this. And he’ll go as far as he has to in order to keep the power,” Ben said.

“The King will never let it come to this,” Donal said.

“This is a constitutional monarchy—not a dictatorship. You think a council full of birds won’t make a difference as to how this country is run? Or better, whether his line dies off?” Ben slammed his fist down.

Rogan felt his throat tighten.
Whether his line dies off.
His gut wrenched at the thought of something happening to El.

“Kings too, are made of clay. Don’t forget that,” Benton added.

“Don’t recite rebel maxims to me,” Donal grumbled, his patience thinning.

“All right, so let’s say he
is
willing to go that far,” Rogan raised his hands. “How do you know this is even qualified intelligence? What—who—is your source?”

At that, a placid grin crept over Benton’s face.

“Let’s just say I’m capable of charming more than pub girls.” Ben leaned back and rolled back his shoulders.

“
Who?
”
Donal commanded.

“She works in the capital government and knows what’s in the works. She has a few spies here and there and let’s just say, she sympathizes with our cause.” Benton cocked his head to the side, self-satisfied.

“Damn it, boy!” Donal brought his fist hard onto the wooden table, startling them both back in their chairs and sending wine splashing over the sides of their glasses. “You’re going to get yourself killed. Not to mention send the rest of us to the firing squad.”

“Ben, what are you thinking?” Rogan asked, aghast.

“This is information we need. I did what I had to do.”

“You did what your hormones told you to do. The intelligence was an afterthought,” Donal grimaced.

Ben tightened his lips and rolled his eyes. Rogan could only imagine Donal’s reaction if he knew about Elyra. Just as he had taken Rogan under his wing, Donal had always looked after Ben, too. Ever since the day an 8-year-old Ben came by the pub to see Rogan with a busted lip and a fractured wrist, Donal had made sure he’d known a father’s love. But that also came with a father’s honesty.

“You’re a damn fool. A damn hot-headed, insatiable fool,” Donal grumbled.

“Who I spend my nights with is none of your business—”

“It’s my business when it’s a government spy leaking intelligence!”             

“Both of you, calm down. What’s done is done,” Rogan piped up. “Ben, how did this even happen?”

“This wasn’t something I sought out. She approached me.”

“And you couldn’t say no to a pretty face, could you?” Donal sneered.

“Are you sure you can trust this woman?” Rogan asked. “You’re sure she’s not using you the same way? The government system isn’t for the naïve and sheltered willing to lift their skirts at the first sight of excitement. These are ruthless politicians who have managed to climb the ranks of a corrupt system. That doesn’t give them the most integrity in my book.”

“I’m not an idiot, Rogan. Despite what some might think.” He eyed Donal. “I know the kind of people we’re dealing with and I know the kind of woman she is. She…she’s actually in it for the right reasons,” Ben said as though it was the first time he had realized that.

Rogan stared hard at his friend, searching his face for signs of uncertainty. Benton stared back, unwavering.

“Does she have a name?” Rogan asked. “Or will she remain your mysterious intel-serving lover?”

“You know I can’t tell you that. For her safety and for ours. The fewer people who know of our indiscretions, the better. Like you said, we could all end up on the wrong end of a ranger’s rifle.”

Donal let out a rough cough, then drained his tumbler of wine. He took a deep, husky breath and pressed both palms down on the table. He raised his eyes to Rogan intently, then refocused on Benton.

“I can’t impress upon you both the severity of what our organization is facing. We’ve operated in silos across the country for a long time now. But it’s becoming impossible to ignore the fact that it’s grown too large to hide in the shadows anymore. We all know what’s going on in the North. If Ben’s information is true, then things are grimmer than we thought. And Ben has shown us that we cannot trust even our own judgment in these times. What seems like an opportunity to do right by us all can be fraught with immense danger.” He stroked his beard and collected his thoughts. “As of now, say nothing to anyone. This stays here between us three until I know how best to proceed.”

“We have to bring this to Cable,” Rogan countered. “The rest should know about this. We need to focus our efforts and—”

“No! No one else can know until I have time to think on this. Ben, it isn’t that I don’t trust your word, but none of us are safe from our own gullibility.”

The boys stared at the table.

“Cable is going to flip if he finds out we held back information,” Ben said.

Donal raised his hand sharply.

“Cable may be the leader, but he’s not our king. We have the right to withhold information for our own protection. If Ben can wiggle his way into a government official’s bed, think how easily one of them could be lurking in our shadows,” Donal said. Both Ben and Rogan had to nod in agreement.

“All right,” Rogan spoke up. “We won’t say a word to anyone until we’ve had time to think. But you have to let us take this to Cable at some point. The most powerful thing this cause has going is trust. If he finds out that we’ve been holding out on him—”

“Boys, I love you both like sons. But must I remind you that of us three, I am the only one who has stood in battle? I am the only one with blood on my hands. You two are fierce, eager and passionate, and for that I am grateful our cause has you. But you are young. You don’t know what you’re asking for. I need your words that you will stay quiet until I say so.”

Rogan could see Benton’s mouth curl, taking offence to Donal’s accusation of  naivety, but he kept his argument to himself.

“You have our word,” Ben said. “We won’t say a thing.”

They packed up their things in silence and were about to head back to the main room when Donal stopped them.

“And Ben. Mind yourself around that girl of yours. At the end of the day, the only one you can trust is yourself.”

Ben twisted his mouth but said nothing.

When Rogan returned home, it was well past midnight. He fumbled with the front door lock, his head spinning from a blend of stress and wine. He pushed his way into the front room quietly, trying not to disturb anyone else. A few steps into the front room, a sliver of a shadow whipped around the corner, grabbing his forearm.

“Watch yourself!” A whispered squeal shot out through the still darkness.

Rogan whipped around, his hand flung to the knife on his hip. He was both relieved and irritated to find Arianna with her arms raised and fists clenched, peering up at him with wide green-gold eyes that glowed like a cat’s in the moonlight.

“Ari! What are you doing awake?”

“Keeping you on your toes.” She smiled, dropping her fists.

“Yeah, great job.” He grumbled and released the grip on his knife. “You should be in bed. You have school tomorrow.”

“Oh please. You’re as bad as Lorena. How was the meeting?”

“What are you talking about?” He shrugged, pulling away from her and moving deeper into the room.

“Oh please, Rogan.” She ran to him and stepped out in front on his path. “Please tell me what’s going on.” She reached a skinny arm up and touched his cheek affectionately—the kind of touch he imagined worked on the boys in her school but was less than effective on a big brother.

“Drop it, Ari.” He swatted her hand away.

“Why won’t you let me come with you? I have skills you could use!”

“Sorry, but the role of whiney, needy female has been filled by Rawdry’s cat.” He pushed past her.

“Uhhh!” Arianna let out a high-pitch growl.

“Shhh! Keep your voice down. Trust me. You don’t want part of this messy business.” Rogan softened his tone and tried to pacify her.

“What if I do?” She brought her arm to her narrow hip and cocked her head to the side. Her defiance made him want to laugh, but he kept his composure.

“It wouldn’t matter. Even if there
were
something going on, you’re too young to be involved.” He could feel her energy sink. He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder, then pulled her into him in a tight, brotherly embrace. He understood her eagerness. He was sneaking off to spy on Cause meetings when he was much younger than she was now. But he told himself that was different. He was already a jaded, angry kid. Ari still had a shot at happiness.

“You’ll have a place in history someday, Ari. I promise. Just don’t be so eager to get there. Once you’re there, there’s no going back.” They stood in the silent darkness for a few minutes before Arianna pulled away.

“Was Benton there?” She casually brushed her raven hair behind her ears.

“And why would that concern you?” He said. She didn’t answer, but brought her eyes down and shrugged. The rosy glow of her blush cut through the darkness. “That, little sister, is most definitely something you are too young for. All right, get to bed. Lorena will have your head if she catches you awake this late on a school night.”

She scowled at him, but obeyed.

That night, he tossed in his bed with images of both war and Elyra competing for his dreams. One moment he held her soft, lithe body against his in an open clearing, surrounded by lush vines and searing sun that he welcomed on their skins. The next moment, he felt blood on his lips, the scent of burnt flesh consuming his nostrils—choking, suffocating him.