The Wandering (The Lux Guardians, #2) by Saruuh Kelsey Page B

She’s
rather hard to miss, even by an impossibly old boy with bad memory.
“Is she good with machines?”
    Priya gives me a
handful of cardboard files, directing me to the paper box. I peek
at its contents, seeing nothing but small print on the documents
before Priya takes them back with a little shake of her head.
“She’s an engineer.”
    “Our best,” Marie
agrees.
    I take initiative and
put several more document folders with the other papers. “Engineer.
Archivist. How many more jobs are available to a Guardian?”
    “It’s basically
unlimited. Cook, fighter, electrician … The Guardians are for every
kind of person.”
    “I thought you were
all warriors.”
    The boat gives a lurch
several times stronger than the gentle movement I’ve become
accustomed to. The bare bulb swinging overhead blinks off, and then
on again, and then off completely. I clutch the floor
uselessly.
    The ship steadies.
Eventually the light returns, illuminating the strained expression
written across Marie’s face and the way the two girls cling to each
other. I push away a bout of jealously. How special it must be to
have someone to cling onto when uncertain fear claims you.
    “ We are warriors” Priya says softly, picking up a conversation I’d
forgotten starting.
    I frown at the sad
tone of her voice. “But that’s not all you are.”
    “Isn’t it? I came to
the Guardians as a librarian, but now I’m a killer, a warrior just
like any Guardian fighter.”
    “Priya.” Marie’s eyes
are wide. She finds Priya’s brown face beneath the sheets of dark
hair, taking hold of her chin. I turn my eyes down, an imposter in
their personal moment. “You didn’t have a choice.”
    “I did.”
    “No you did not.”
    I
recognise Priya’s words and emotions because they match my own. I
haven’t forgotten the men I injured and killed in the vault of
Underground London Zone. They may have been Officials that were
intending to harm me but they were still men. I’m still responsible
for their deaths. My regret of that has been overshadowed by my
loss of Bennet but it’s still there. I suspect it will be a ghost
that will follow me for the rest of my existence, branded into my
subconscious like a pirate’s mark. An angry red K for killer.
    “None of us had a
choice.” My throat is tight but I force the words out. I pick up a
spoon and stare at my warped reflection. “This situation doesn’t
give us choices. We are all made killers at some point in our
lives.”
     
     
    19:02. 13.10.2040. The
Free Lands, Eastlands coastline.
     
     
    The rocky shore
outside the dining room window is dwarfed by grey, angry waves. The
water rushes up the cliff face, staining the light rock a darker
colour to match the sky. To match my mood.
    “The storm isn’t going
anywhere, is it?” murmurs Priya. She’s hunched over the yellow
tablecloth, her chin propped on her hand and a weary look about
her.
    I shake my head,
glowering. The jolting movement of the ship is giving me an upset
stomach and the pounding rain has persuaded a headache to explode
behind my left eye. “Not anytime soon.”
    Marie shrugs indifferently—this girl is always shrugging—as she scrapes a
spoon across the bottom of her food tin. “Alba says we’ll be there
by tomorrow afternoon anyway.”
    I perk up at the
information. “Where is there?”
    “Some miserable place
called Hull where there’s more rain, more wind, and more grey.”
    “London was very
grey,” Priya points out.
    “Yeah, but I never had
to see that. I miss my tunnels.”
    Priya nudges the
blonde girl, her dark eyes mirthful. They take each other’s hands
under the table. I’m not sure why they hide the gesture, perhaps
because of my presence. I immerse myself in eating to give them a
moment of privacy. I’m all too aware of being in the middle of them
every second, a perpetual pain in the backside I’m sure.
    “Jesus Christ!” I jump
halfway out of my seat when a hand falls on my shoulder,