Page 171 of Iris
Burning shit down to collect the insurance is a rich man’s game.
I know.
Amelia…
I suck in a breath and try focus on something else,anythingelse, and not the thought of flames, of heat, and the death and destruction fire can bring. My skin itches, and old fears start to rise in me again.
Things are going to be fine. The fire department has been working hard to contain the fires on the Lower Side, prevent the spread.
Emmie is safe at the Black Briar. And Iris is at the Council building, has been all day.
Or, at least, I assume she still is. The phones are out, so is the internet. Contacting her is damn near impossible.
I look at the familiar faces assembled at Nightshade’s popular meeting spot, the boarded-up clothing store that had been abandoned long ago. I had called this emergency meeting because our name is being thrown around as the starters to this chaos. And that’s not the kind of publicity the group needs.
“I say we use this moment to take over Sabine. We can form a new Council.”
I don’t know who shouts this, but the crowd roars in agreement. Someone throws a glass, smashing it.
I slash my gaze to one of the dockworkers, a strong man who’s known for being a little hotheaded. From the defiance that radiates off him, I put him down as the glass breaking culprit.
“Do that,” I say, “and we’ll be either signing away our freedom or our death warrants. They’re just looking for a reason to pin this all on us. One spark of violence in the name of Nightshade and it’s over.”
“So what?” a woman shouts. “It’s over anyway. The Council doesn’t care.”
“Calm down,” another voice says. But the man’s drowned out by the cries of rage and frustration.
“We meet and meet and meet and talk and do nothing! I’m tired of the waiting.”
Fuck, the problem is they’re all speaking my language. I want to do the same. I want to fucking take the Upper Side with all their mansions and stupid rules down.
I want anarchy and to let the poison out.
But that hurts Iris. Her family. Emmie. It hurts memories that I hold dear.
Shit, maybe Xavier’s bleeding heart has finally rubbed off on me.
“People! Enough.” I wait until they fall silent, making eye contact with those who rumble until they, too, are still.
“Right now, a young Omega—you all met her?—Iris Gardener is making our case to the Monarch. So should we. Our way. Thepeacefulway.”
I look at them all again, feeling so fucking virtuous I want to be sick.
Emmie, I think.Iris.
“With unity. We put out the fires. We work together as a community and show those on the Council and the Upper Side that we aren’t to be feared. We are just like them. You see an Upper Sider, you help them, shelter them if they need it. Walk them the fuck home. No weapons, nothing. To the group of you who volunteered to go after Vanellen and…”
“Joy,” someone shouts. “That’s her name.”
“Who ran with Joy, make sure to contact me when they’re found safe. Hopefully the phones will be back up by then. Try to bring them back so that they can help us plead their case, then we work on holding talks, discuss out terms, in peace. They will expect riots and violence. We give them peace, community, and manners. Lock your businesses, stay safe, and work together. Go.”
There are murmurs of agreement, and they file out. They immediately start to rally in the street, ordering people to help put out the fires and bring aid to anyone who’s been affected.
The fire is contained. We’re safe, we’re safe. We are fucking safe.
Emmie is safe, and as long as Iris gets as far from us as possible, she’ll be safe, too.
I have to keep telling myself that to keep the fear at bay.
