Rebel Song Page 9

  Rogan summoned a deep breath and collected his emotions. Lorena had her opinions about his father and fighting with her wasn’t going to change anything. She had seen just as much terror as any of them had. He owed her that much credit, at least.

  “Sorry,” Rogan set the milk down. “I’m just in a bad mood.”

  “Well maybe if you didn’t stay out until all hours stirring up trouble at Rawdry’s —”

  “Lorena,” Jasper snapped in a low grunt. “The kid is trying to apologize. Must you antagonize him even more?”

  Lorena’s tight mouth loosened and she sighed. She turned and set the iron skillet into the sink and rested her palms on the counter.

  “There are eggs and potatoes on the stove, Rogan. Get yourself a hearty breakfast before you go out.” She motioned toward the stove without looking at him.

  “Hurry up and eat and get out to the vineyard,” Jasper said. “We’ve a full day today. I’m heading out. See you soon.”

  Rogan piled eggs scrambled with sweet onions and thick fried potato wedges on his plate, poured a mug of black coffee and sat to scarf it down. Like an unexpected wave, Arianna came crashing into the kitchen. She was dressed in her drab navy blue school dress that was the uniform for all girls attending the Valley Secondary School. She had black tights on underneath and worn black leather boots that laced up to her knobby knees. Noting her dress hem seemed shorter than usual, Rogan was about to comment that she must have hit a growth spurt, until his keen eye caught the glint of a pin holding up a good two inches of fabric. Very sly, little sister.

  “Arianna, don’t run through the house. This isn’t a playground,” Lorena scorned. Rogan smirked. Oh how that woman loves to scorn. “Sit and eat your breakfast.” She poured Ari a glass of milk and set it down on the table.

  “What’s all over your face?” Rogan asked, noting the dark smudged lines around her eyes. Arianna shot him a dirty glance as if he’d just blown her secret.

  “Nothing.” She shrugged, looking down at her food to avoid eye contact.

  “What is it?” Loren asked, walking over. “Ari, look at me.” Ari raised her head gingerly and met her aunt’s always disapproving glare. Lorena furrowed her brow when she saw the thick eye makeup.

  “Arianna Elwood. What do you think you’re doing? Applying for a job as a street moll?”

  “God, you are so dramatic! What’s the big deal?” Ari groaned. “It’s just charcoal.”

  “Just charcoal?” Lorena grumbled. “Ari, you’re a little girl.”

  Rogan nearly sputtered coffee from his nose as he watched his sister’s face redden with fury.

  “I am not!” Ari protested. “I’m old enough to wear whatever I want. In two years I’ll be an adult and you won’t be able to tell me anything!”

  “Well, in two years you can smudge whatever you want on your face, but until then you live in my house!”

  “It’s not even your house! It was da’s house!” Arianna shouted. Lorena’s face wavered between hurt and rage. Rogan almost felt bad for her.

  Jasper reappeared through the side door as if on cue and noted the raised voices and tight red faces.

  “Already fighting?” Jasper grinned. Lorena pursed her lips and crossed her arms.

  “Jasper, look at how Ari looks today,” she said matter-of-factly. Jasper glanced at his niece and nodded.

  “You look beautiful Ari, as always. What’s the matter?”

  Ari grinned with smug satisfaction and gave her aunt a superior look. Lorena fumed.

  “She most certainly does not. Look at how she’s marked up her face with black paint.” Jasper reexamined his niece then registered the issue.

  “Oh, I see. Yes, it is quite a dramatic look,” he nodded and tried to bite back a grin. “Perhaps tomorrow you should try a lighter hand. Might make your features a little softer.”

  Arianna grinned at her uncle in appreciation.

  “Jasper,” Lorena began through gritted teeth. Jasper walked to his wife and kissed her cheek.

  “Aren’t we lucky to have such beautiful children? So very lucky. Now, c’mon, finish up your breakfast, Ari. I don’t want you late for school.” He patted Lorena’s backside, refilled his coffee thermos, and went back outside. Lorena grunted and threw up her arms before scurrying out of the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, Rogan and Arianna both snickered.

  “You are so lucky you’re not a girl,” Ari said shaking her head as she stabbed a potato with her fork. “It’s so unfair.” She shoveled the potato into her pouty mouth.

  “I guess you do have it a little rougher sometimes. So much worry and so many more rules. But then again, I never tried to pin up my uniform and paint myself like a raccoon.” Rogan said. Ari scowled. “It’ll be over soon enough, little sister. Like you so gently pointed out, you’ll be out of school in two years. You can do and wear whatever you want then.”

  “I can’t wait,” she sighed. “You have all the freedom in the world.” Rogan laughed to himself. Sure. All the freedom in the world.

  The icy evening had lingered into the morning, leaving the air crisp and cool in his lungs as Ari scampered off to school and Rogan trudged out to the vineyard a few hundred yards from the house. The sun was piercing through the western clouds as the early morning fog began to dissipate over the trees. Rainer and Tigg were gassing up the tractors and Alfie was helping load up the pruning gear, his skinny ten-year-old arms struggling with the oversized sacks. Toro jumped and barked, scampering after Alfie, wagging his tail eagerly.

  “Mornin’ Rogan,” Rainer said in a gruff voice, clutching a steaming thermos. “Coffee’s in the pot. Alfie! Fetch Rogan a thermos.” Alfie nodded to his da, dropped off the sacks of gear and scrambled to fill up a steel thermos.

  “Thanks Alfie,” Rogan said taking the steaming cup from the eager boy and scratching Toro’s head.

  “’Welcome Rogan. Did, um, did Ari leave for school yet?” Alfie asked with blushing cheeks. Rogan grinned.

  “She did. And why haven’t you?” Rogan asked. Alfie ran the toe of his scuffed boot through the dirt and shrugged. “Go on. If you hurry, maybe she’ll walk you to class.”

  Alfie bit his lip but smiled.

  “You heard ‘em boy, get on with yourself,” Rainer said.

  “Did the frost do any damage?” Rogan asked, walking over to the tractor. Tigg hopped down and snatched up his own thermos from the wheel cover. He wiped his hands on his already grease-stained coveralls, and then tied his shaggy gray hair back in a ponytail. He had been a hand at Elwood Farms since even Theron was a boy, but Rogan couldn’t remember him without a scruffy gray beard.

  “I dun’ think,” Tigg replied in a thick northern brogue only the old timers seemed to have any more. “It dropped to nary five Cs last night but the air was damp enough. These is thick vines.” Tigg glanced around at the surrounding vineyards with thick green stems fighting through the cold.

  “What we need to be mindful of, Boss, is them blocks in the far lot,” Rainer chimed in. “If we get a frost streak, we might lose ‘em.”

  “All right,” Rogan nodded. “We’ll watch them.” Boss. He still wasn’t used to it. He didn’t feel like the boss and these men certainly had more experience in the vines, but he knew the others looked to him for decisions. The vineyard was, after all, the small legacy his father had left him. He had learned what he was doing more or less, but his capability was nothing compared to the sheer talent his father had. Even through the droughts and sharp frosts, by some miracle, Theron kept the fruit coming each summer. When he returned from the war and found the vineyard on its deathbed, Theron had nursed the vines and coaxed the plump berries to return. And the perfect nectar he made from them was renowned throughout every Arelanda county. Rogan would have loved to learn from his father, working side by side in the Elwood vineyard, eventually opening a tasting room on the docks. He sighed at the thought, knowing that even if his father was still alive, there would be no one to taste their wine at the docks but dru
nken rangers and coast guardsmen. The rest of the world had abandoned them.

  The state of the vineyard was in all their hands now and they had to do it together. Jasper had done a fine job of managing things since Theron and Uncle Colt were both gone. He’d even sold his own house so he could move in and keep the vineyard alive until Rogan was old enough to take over. Rogan could hardly blame him that the land was underwater and one short harvest away from foreclosure. Jasper was a good businessman and managed the growing side well, but wine making was never his true calling. Besides, no one was buying Pear Valley wine but local pubs and they paid a fraction of what they once earned from shipping it out to the other counties, not to mention internationally. With the embargos in the east, the crime firms on the northern border and bootleggers guarding the door to the South, international shipping had all but ceased. Only those with muscle in the right places managed to keep the lines open, and the Elwoods had always been short on muscle and high on integrity.

  Being located just outside of the capital had its economic advantages. The King and Council and their households looked first to local vendors for their necessities to cut down on costly and timely transportation of outer county commodities—not to mention that Pear Valley was the most fruitful wine growing region in the country. But their location also kept them close to the center of unrest. Here on the outskirts of Arelanda City, they were bound to the fate of the capital.

  Despite the cooperative weather, the day dragged on for what seemed like a week. The throbbing in his head only worsened every time the tractors revved up; Tigg’s incessant chatter was driving him insane. He also couldn’t stop thinking about what Ben had told them. If his bloodline dies off. He couldn’t get the words out of his mind. What if it came to that? What if she was put in danger because of him? El wasn’t like her father and Pantone, he knew that. But the cause would never see that.

  “Feeling all right, kid?”

  Rogan’s thoughts broke and he turned to see Jasper walking toward him.

  “A bit groggy. Might have imbibed a little too much last night,” Rogan admitted. Jasper laughed and placed a hand on his nephew’s shoulder.

  “I remember what it was like to be your age. All night pubs and pub girls were all I had a mind for.”

  “If only Lorena was so open-minded.”

  “Your aunt, she still thinks of you like a child, you know. She doesn’t mean to belittle you, but she just hasn’t accepted that you’re a grown man now.”

  “She worries relentlessly.”

  “That she does. The thing you have to understand about Lorena is, when your ma died it absolutely crushed her. Atlanna was more than just her big sister. She was her lifeblood—her best friend. She didn’t know what to do with herself. So she put every ounce of energy she had into raising you two.”

  “I’m sorry she had to do that,” he tried to ignore the persistent images of his mother that still haunted him.

  “Don’t be. We are all sorry for the loss of your parents. She never once regretted taking you in. Never. But honestly, you terrified her.”

  “Me?” Rogan laughed.

  “Yes. You were this sullen, introverted 12-year-old boy with a soul that anyone could see was old and aware. And be damned, you were the spitting image of your da. It’s not that she didn’t like him—most everyone loved him—it’s just Lorena never understood Theron, so she never really understood you. She was always afraid you’d follow his legacy.”

  “Guess she has some valid concerns there.”

  “Oh and Ari. She might be the spitting image of Atlanna on the outside, but that child has a devil in her that her sweet mother could have never imaged.” Jasper chuckled.

  “Yeah, we’re all in for a terrifying ride with that one. She’s too damn smart for her age.”

  “Well, she is your sister after all. Life hasn’t been the easiest road for her, either. She barely knew Theron and the poor thing lost her ma before she had a chance to teach her much at all. Lorena tried, but she knew it wasn’t the same. There has always been a wall between her and you both. But it’s not for lack of trying or love.”

  “So what was this morning all about?”

  Jasper pursed his lips.

  “Just a stress-induced spousal bicker. Nothing to worry about.”

  Rogan frowned, silently saying, don’t patronize me.

  “Now who’s treating me like a child?”

  Jasper sighed.

  “I went to a meeting. And she found out.”

  “A meeting?”

  Jasper scratched at his scruffy red beard.

  “A meeting for the Cause.”

  Rogan couldn’t prevent his eyes from widening in shock. He was sure he would have known if his uncle had been to a meeting.

  “Cause?” Rogan tested the waters.

  “Rogan, please. Don’t bother. But it’s all right. Your aunt doesn’t know about your involvement.”

  Rogan averted his eyes and didn’t respond.

  “She might not know, but I do. It was only a matter of time before you rose to the occasion, especially with your father’s ghost lingering on the walls of Rawdry’s.”

  “Okay, so what’s your point?” Rogan’s defensive instinct kicked in.

  “I’m not angry, or even upset. Frankly, I’m not even surprised.”

  “How did you know?”

  “It wasn’t that hard to figure out. I tried to keep you shielded, but I knew Donal would pull you in sooner or later. Even my influence could never beat out that of your da’s best friend. I’m guessing you’ve been involved for some time now. But I was concerned. I needed to know just how deep this ran.”

  “So you, what, followed me?”

  “Regrettably I did. Last week. Turns out, this is more serious that I thought. The things I heard,” Jasper shook his head. “It scared me a little.”

  “They should scare you. So, now what?”

  “Nothing. I don’t want to be involved in this. I can’t; there’s too much at stake for the family, for the vineyard. But I know I can’t stand in your way either—and I’m not trying to. You’re going to do what you’re going to do. I just need to know that you fully understand what you’re getting into.”

  “I’m already knee-deep in it…But I know exactly what it is.”

  Jasper gave him a reluctant smile.

  “Then I just have one thing to ask of you Rogan.”

  “Which is?”

  “Don’t make the same mistakes Theron did. Keep it out of the home. Don’t let this come down on the rest of us. And don’t you dare drag Ari down with you.”

  CHAPTER 13

  They walked through the narrow, dank alleyway, their nerves on edge. The stench of urine and rotting fish seeped through his nose and he pretended not to hear the smacks and crunches as he stepped in the unthinkable. The only thing illuminating the alleyway was the dim red glow seeping through high windows in dark corners where even darker deeds unfolded. While he couldn’t see them, Rogan was sure he felt rats sweep past his feet. A short walk from the lavish city central—featuring extravagant restaurants, couture boutiques and wealthy tourists staining their teeth with local wine—the city quickly faded to a dismal underbelly most pretended wasn’t there. The dock alleys were a carnival of nightmares where the depravity of humanity ruled from a rotting throne. In the deepest alleys, there were worse things than nightmares in the dark.

  Rogan and Benton kept their eyes and ears alert, fingering their daggers as they crept through the last alley, the darkest and most dismal of them all.

  “Where you go? Where you go?” A raspy voice sang out in a disjointed melody. “Where they all go? Nobody here.” Rogan glanced down to see a rumpled man, fingers of scraggly gray beard dripping from his grimy leathery face, swaying back and forth from where he sat on a moth-eaten blanket. A smoldering opa pipe lay by his side, begging for a kiss. Rogan clutched his knife tighter, but kept walking past.

  “Spare change,” a hoarse female voice scratch
ed at his ears. “Just one, just two. Baby gotta eat,” she sang out with the same fragmented melody as the shriveled old man—the alley’s official anthem. Ben stopped for a moment to stare at the woman, whose frail body was wrapped in stinking rags. Her gaping mouth revealed a few decaying teeth, jagged and black. Thick bags enveloped her hollow eyes. She was in a dream, only able to mutter spare change. Rogan nudged Ben’s arm to signal “keep moving.” Ben sighed but followed. Anyone knew that as much as it broke your heart, the moment you opened your pockets to offer so much as a crumb of bread, the entire alley would be nipping at your heels.

  They kept moving through the labyrinth of narrow, putrid walkways, taking care to avoid stepping on broken glass, delirious ranting street dwellers, rabid cats and near-lifeless bodies. Rogan slid through the shadows like a cat. He had learned to navigate the corridors by instinct rather than sight. He’d been diving into these depths for years on business for Cable. No one wanted to be associated with this side of town, but sometimes what they needed could only be found in the seedy underworld.

  On this chilly night, they were making their way to see Jova Sante, the most notorious purveyor of black market items needed to arm a resistance: namely, guns, c4, intel and false papers—most useful when in need of a quick getaway. Rogan’s stomach twisted into knots thinking about it, but he took a deep breath and kept moving. The alley suddenly filled with a foreign energy and he felt a chill on his skin. His ear caught a footstep in the shadows. He stopped. Ben took three more steps and caught Rogan’s caution. He glanced behind. There was no one.

  “Alley cats,” Ben whispered. Rogan nodded but wasn’t pacified. The instinctive prickles on his skin never lied.

  A glint of steel flashed in the darkness. Rogan spun around and locked eyes with two hollow sockets belonging to something that used to be a man.

  “I thought I recognized you, traitor’s son,” said a voice filtered through gravel. Through the darkness, Rogan tried to identify this shadow of a man—a ghost draped in tattered rags and broken shoes—but he didn’t recognize him.