The Guardian Games: A Dystopian & Post-Apocalyptic Series (The Water Thief Book 2), page 1
Copyright © 2024 by Natasha Brown
Edited by Scott Andrews & Amanda Sumner
All rights reserved.
No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Contents
1. Aches and Pains
2. Straightened Up
3. The Qualifiers
4. The Finish Line
5. Life’s Little Disappointments
6. New Rules
7. Hideout
8. Increased Taxes
9. New Direction
10. Marked
11. Payback’s a Ratter
12. Burn it all Down
13. Vanishing Act
14. Defiance Outpost
15. Forced Parsimony
16. Impulse to Blame
17. Robber’s Lane
18. Same Game
19. The Water Thief
20. Rat Trap
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Chapter one
Aches and Pains
Symbols are our way of placing value on otherwise meaningless objects. The simplest shape can represent an idea, making it deeply relevant to a group. Before now, I never thought much of signs or symbols, but that was about to change.
“Where are you leading me?” I asked Ruthless without bothering to hide my impatience.
My friend looked down at me with creased eyes. “To something I think you’ll appreciate. I saw it when I was out with Willa making deliveries today.”
It was twilight. The day’s hazy glow was a desaturated gray. Darkness seeped across the cobbled streets and up the rickety buildings while the ever-present clouds shielded the sky from view. The evening rush of workers hurrying home from their jobs had already passed. The poor side was strangely still, except for the few people doing evening errands. Neckerchiefs covered our faces to keep the unhealthy air from our lungs. My woven mantle provided a hiding place for Blue, my oldest friend. The riverlark was happy to burrow behind my auburn braid and nestle at the base of my neck, and Ruthless often teased that I was something of a mother to her since I’d raised her from a fledgling.
“It’s just down this way.” Ruthless pointed ahead and we turned down a street lined with crumbling cement and brick buildings. Though it was dark, I saw it from the corner. Black paint roughed out a design on the wall. The closer I got, the clearer it became–a water drop with wings.
Ruthless’s eyes were on me while I studied the street art, and she murmured, “It’s you—the water angel.”
I immediately understood what it meant. It was what the people of the poor side named the mysterious person behind the water drop-offs. My real identity was still unknown to the public, and the highsiders were on alert, seeking ways to keep their water safe from the mysterious thief. Surveillants were guarding water deliveries. It had been weeks since I’d last planned a heist with my friends. Not only was I preoccupied with preparing for the Guardian Games, I wasn’t in a rush to return to the Pen anytime soon.
I quietly stared at the wall, and the streetlamp at the corner flickered on, wavering and threatening to shut back off.
“I just thought you’d like to see it—see how they feel about you.” Ruthless said, “With the qualifiers this week, I thought you could use the inspiration.”
I pinched my lips together. She hated it when I kept my thoughts to myself, but she’d grown used to it. I wasn’t exactly being private. She just wouldn’t like what I was thinking, so I wasn’t in a rush to share.
“Let’s jog back,” I suggested.
She shrugged and started up the street. She was faster than me. Her stride was longer, making her the perfect training partner. I launched after her, my legs working hard to catch up. My muscles ached in response to the daily demands I’d been putting on them. Not only that, but my knee was giving me trouble recently. I pushed past the soreness and ignored the ache. Mind over matter. I wouldn’t let anything prevent me from doing my best in the Guardian Games.
Just a few weeks remained to prepare for the qualifiers because of my last-minute application. It hadn’t been easy to amass fifty gold for the entry fee. Ten years in the Pen was a form of preparation, but I didn’t have personal trainers or special equipment like the high side competitors. I had my friends, who were more than eager to push me to succeed. There was no sponsor to fund my success, just determination and grit. And a pack of ratters by my side.
Ruthless slowed so I could jog beside her, and she glanced down at me. “Nervous?”
I panted as we passed the butcher’s, where Rat jerky hung in the windows. My stomach groaned in emptiness. I ignored her question and sped up. I refused to admit my anxiety. I wasn’t about to make it real. A day hadn't gone by when I didn’t think about preventing the very able-bodied Scarlett Hood from winning the Guardian Games. Her uncle and sponsor, Lysander, was plotting to help her cheat her way to the finish line. Somehow, it had to do with getting him elected guardian, the greatest seat of power in Hastings.
I couldn’t let that happen.
Ruthless let me beat her to the Hub. We hunched over, catching our breath just outside the brick building, drawing looks from people entering the taproom. The thrum of conversations and clinking glasses spilled outside before the door shut again.
I straightened and lowered my woolen mantle. With a breathless whistle, I sent Blue away into the night. The evening air reached the back of my neck, cooling the sweat on my skin. Stray hairs escaped my long auburn braid and stuck to my forehead.
Ruthless opened the door and waited before following me inside. Dim lanterns lit the space, and patrons from the poor side sat around tables, sipping their fermented tea and letting loose after a long day at work. I looked longingly down the hallway toward the back of the place to the gaming room.
My friend grabbed my arm, led me to a table near the serving counter, and said, “No cards tonight.”
She was no fun. Cards would have gotten my mind off the Games.
Ruthless steered me toward our friends. Willa spotted our approach and asked my companion, “Did you show her?”
Ruthless nodded and pulled up a chair beside Niall, Willa’s dark-haired older brother. He smiled silently and handed her a kombu. After a prior respiratory sickness permanently damaged his throat and larynx, he often spared his voice.
Poe, my childhood friend, cocked his brow and asked, “Show her what? You're speaking in riddles.”
His green eyes moved from Willa to Ruthless and settled on me. The sides of his head were shaved, and the remaining hair hung in one long braid below his shoulders. He folded his arms and tilted his head expectantly.
“Just some graffiti in the slums,” I explained, avoiding his gaze. I knew what his response would be once he heard.
Willa swept her short, mousy hair from her eyes and scoffed. “More like fan art. It’s a water droplet with wings. Found it on the side of an apartment building.”
“The water angel,” Ruthless said before taking a drink of her kombu.
Poe chuckled and returned his focus to me with an arched brow. He was more than pleased. “The highsiders might call you a thief, but the poor side knows you’re their angel.”
“I’m no angel,” I muttered, longingly glancing at the hallway leading to the back of the building. I wouldn’t be in this torture if Ruthless had just let me play cards.
Poe waved at the tapster behind the counter and gestured toward me. The blonde tattooed woman gave a nod, filled a mug with the golden fermented tea, and brought it to our table. Poe handed her some coppers. After she walked away, he pulled something from inside his jacket and slid it toward me, along with the mug. “Only the best for Competitor Quinn.”
I recognized the butcher’s paper. Over the last few weeks, Poe had used his remaining money from our water heists to buy me rat jerky. I tried to push the parcel back across the stained table, but he stopped me. His hand rested on mine, and he shook his head. “I know what you’re going to say, but you need the protein. My mom always used to say that protein builds muscles. Anyway, I’m not the one training for the Games.”
He didn’t understand what it was like eating meat in front of everyone when I was the only one. Anyway, the thought of the upcoming qualifiers turned my stomach. I sighed, picked up the wrapped meat, and tucked it away for later.
An awkward silence passed—one that Willa appeared oblivious of. She rested her chin on her hand and returned her attention to me. “So, Saturday’s just two days away. How psyched are you?”
I caught Ruthless’s eye and pleaded silently for my freedom. She shook her head once, and I huffed, sipping my drink. I wasn’t in the mood to talk about my feelings. But when was I?
“Why the hell does everyone insist on talking about it?” I grumbled. “Lysander’s probably got the whole course rigged. I doubt I’ll live to see my nineteenth birthday.”
“You’re tougher than any highsider—you survived a decade in the Pen.” Ruthless believed in me, but her tendency to worry was winning out. Thankfully, she hadn’t voiced her fears to me, but I could see them reflected in her almond-shaped eyes.
“It’s been a while since we stole from the highsiders,” I
Poe was more than willing to take the bait and distract himself from my question. He raised his hand with a smile. “Thank you—that’s what I’ve been saying. Who's up for another heist?”
“How about tonight?” I looked around the table.
I knew before I asked that Poe would be on board. I wasn’t as sure about the others, however. Willa locked eyes with her brother, and they held a silent conversation like they often did. Ruthless’s lids closed, and she rubbed her forehead.
I could see they needed some convincing, so I doubled my efforts. “The cost of water hasn’t changed. The people of the poor side need our help.”
“But why now? Shouldn't we wait until after the Games?” Ruthless asked. “And what about Niall’s foot?”
I'd forgotten his serious injury, which prevented him from working with his sister for their delivery service for over a month.
“The cast is off.” Niall’s raspy voice was barely loud enough for me to hear.
His sister crossed her arms and turned to him. “And Doc Tate said you should avoid carrying heavy loads.”
“That was a week ago,” he snapped at her, and his voice dropped off. He rubbed his throat and swallowed. “I’ll be the lookout.”
Willa narrowed her eyes at him, and I snickered under my breath. He’d had enough time sitting around the house getting bossed around by his little sister. I turned to Ruthless, realizing she was studying me closely. It made me uncomfortable.
“Fine, let’s do it,” she said. “I guess it’s a form of training.”
***
Hand over hand, I climbed down the building’s water pipe. The road was draped in darkness thanks to the wiry tree shielding a streetlamp's glimmering light a block away. The whisper of movement below was muffled by the thrum of chirping crickets from outside the burg and the sighing breeze.
Below me, Poe closed the valve with the key I’d stolen from the watermen months ago. We moved with precision under the cover of night. It didn’t seem very many weeks since the last time we’d relieved a highsider of their water. Ruthless stood in the back of the trailer and corked the filled barrel before tossing the hose over the edge. Willa and Niall stood at opposite ends of the lane, looking for any patrolling surveillants.
When I was a body length from the ground, my hands slipped, and I dropped down. As soon as I landed, my knee popped. Pain radiated through my leg from the joint as I flinched and braced my hand on the wall to steady myself. Thankfully, my scarf covered my wince. Poe glanced at me, and I straightened and gestured at the spigot to encourage him to hurry. He nodded, unfastened the end of the hose, and coiled it over his arm before tossing it onto the flatbed. Poe whistled softly, and our lookouts doubled back to the rig.
Fear gripped my heart when I tried straightening my knee to stand on my leg, but it remained bent. Poe jumped into the trailer and gave me his hand, lifting me to join Ruthless in the back. I did my best to hide the fact that I couldn’t move without pain because I didn’t want them to worry. We lay on the ridged metal surface while Willa and Niall covered us with the canvas tarp.
Moments later, a soft clicking noise joined with the horses’ hooves clopping on the concrete. We jostled shoulder to shoulder as the trailer bumped over the streets. My breath steamed my face under the scarf that wrapped my head.
I knew we’d left the high side of East Haven when we bumped over the potholes and uneven streets of the poor side. Gravel, cobbles, and hard-packed earth responded differently to the horses’ hooves. I listened to the rhythm instead of dwelling on what was happening the day after tomorrow. I pinched my lips together and squeezed my eyes shut.
The trailer took another turn and slowed. The echo of our progression reverberated off the walls as we arrived behind the alley of the Hub to drop off one of the barrels of water and fill the empty growlers for the thirsty ratters on the poor side like we had done countless times before. Ruthless sat up, taking with her our cover. “That highsider’s going to kick himself for not hiring a guard to watch his precious water like his neighbors.”
Willa chimed in. “What a fool.”
The others moved the empty growlers from the back entrance of the Hub. Niall worked beside Willa, getting the first barrel into position. He moved gingerly on his foot when he didn’t think anyone was watching. Unfortunately for him, I wasn’t the only one keeping an eye on him. His younger sister and my giantess of a companion were there in case he needed a hand. I was just thankful their attention was on him instead of me.
I slid to the ground and reached for the first crate of empty growlers. Poe and Ruthless slid one of the barrels off the back and set it on the ground. Poe pressed his hands against its top and glanced at me. “I was surprised you wanted to do this tonight. I mean, I’m always up for giving the highsiders a taste of their own medicine, but I thought your focus was on the Games now.”
“I’d be careful,” Willa said to him. “She’s been weird all week. Don’t be surprised if she bites off your head.”
I thrust a filled bottle into the crate, making the other growlers clatter against each other. I straightened up. “The slums still can’t afford clean water. That won’t change if I tuck myself into bed after dinner every night. I just wanted to stop talking about the Games for a day. Is that too much to ask?”
Everyone shared a wide-eyed glance, and our work went on in silence. However much I regretted snapping at my friends, my thoughts quickly spun off in other anxiety-riddled directions.
In recent times, the labor class had only seen highsiders compete for the power and wealth awarded in the Guardian Games. I represented myself and everyone else who’d been dealt the short end of the stick, which was the majority of the Hastings. I couldn’t look like a pathetic ratter on public display. Pressure was mounting. Too much was riding on my success at the qualifiers.
I continued to fill empty growlers while my knee burned in pain. It would feel better in the morning, I promised myself. It had to.
Chapter two
Straightened Up
I scanned the dimly lit game room, looking for Much, the Hub’s manager. The place was nearly empty, which wasn’t surprising. It was midmorning, and most of the taproom’s patrons were at work while I ascended the stairs leading to the second-level balcony. My knee didn’t want to straighten, and it still ached. The walk from Poe’s had been uncomfortable. I wanted to believe my knee had improved overnight, but I’d lost my wild imagination since my stint in the Pen.
Before I could knock on Much’s door, it opened, revealing his beautiful face. Unnaturally white hair fell below his shoulders, touching the blue kimono that matched the coolness of his eyes. Loose-fitting black pants covered his long legs, and when he saw me, his brow arched. He tapped his lips with a hooked finger. “Well, I must be important if I’ve been graced with a visit from the poor side’s very own Competitor Quinn. This must have something to do with the special delivery of water I received late last night.”
I blinked at him.
“I thought you were taking a break from all that, especially now—what with more important things to focus on.” He swung open the door and went to his desk. He slid open a drawer, reached inside, and produced a coin purse. His lips moved as he counted its contents. Satisfied, he tossed it across the room. I snatched it out of the air, rattling the coins inside.
He grinned. “It’s always a pleasure.”
I tucked the money under my waistband and stepped back from the threshold. If I didn’t get out of there, he’d press me to talk about what everyone had on their mind. “Well, I’d better be off—plenty to do.”
“I bet.” Much raised his hand as I departed. “Good luck tomorrow. I’ll be in the stands cheering for you!”
I swallowed hard and turned for the stairs. Any semblance of the fake smile masking my true feelings slid away. My day would consist of avoiding all other human contact. Maybe if I hid in Mr. Emmett’s upstairs apartment, I could pretend it was like any other Friday.
“There she is,” a familiar voice called out.
I paused in my descent and met the hazel-eyed gaze of the handsome high side doctor Addax Tate. My chest tightened, only further annoying me. I squeezed the stair rail and looked away.
