Ensnared (Enchained Trilogy Book 2) Read online

  Janet McNulty

  Book 2 of the Enchained Trilogy

  This is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents within are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  Ensnared

  Copyright © 2020 Janet McNulty

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  ISBN-10: 1-941488-91-9 (MMP Publishing)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-941488-91-1

  This book is dedicated to those of you who have struggled, much like Noni does, between doing what is right and what others try to convince you to do. There is no shortage of people always telling you what to do, how to feel, and how to think. Just like Noni is forced to do, you have to make a choice, a very difficult choice: doing what you have been programmed to do and doing what you know to be right. It is not an easy choice to make, and standing up to the mob can be a lonely road, and so, this book is dedicated to you.

  Contents

  Title

  Chapter 1 Aftermath

  Chapter 2 Chilling Consequence

  Chapter 3 Six Weeks Later

  Chapter 4 Midnight

  Chapter 5 Discontent

  Chapter 6 Smuggling

  Chapter 7 Sneaking In

  Chapter 8 Trial of Fears

  Chapter 9 A Summons

  Chapter 10 The Farms

  Chapter 11 The Mines

  Chapter 12 A Familiar Face

  Chapter 13 Entombed

  Chapter 14 Uprising

  Chapter 15 Veiled Words

  Chapter 16 Fog

  Chapter 17 A Warning

  Chapter 18 The Crematoriums

  Chapter 19 Hello Darkness

  Chapter 20 Discretion

  Chapter 21 An Old Friend

  Chapter 22 Detainment

  Chapter 23 Sickening Silence

  Chapter 24 Still Not Over

  Chapter 25 An Invitation

  Chapter 26 Strings Pulled

  Chapter 27 Answers

  Chapter 28 A Plan

  Chapter 29 Mandi’s Secret

  Chapter 30 Consequences

  Coming Soon

  Thank you for reading

  About the Author

  More From This Author

  Chapter 1

  Aftermath

  “Renal! Renal, wake up!” I yell at him, lifting him up, trying to get him to open his eyes.

  He moans.

  I shake him a little, hoping that he will wake up soon as the alarms blare throughout Arel, alerting everyone to danger, as though they didn’t already know. “Renal!”

  His eyes flutter open, blinking several times until he focuses them. “What happened?”

  “You were unconscious,” I reply.

  After helping Sigal and the others leave the city, and hearing the explosions take place, I hurried back to where I had left Renal, hoping that he had not been near them or harmed. My wish had been granted. He still laid on the ground where I had left him, unconscious, and unaware of what happened. Relief had flood through me at finding him and knowing that he is okay, though I remembered to put my wristband back on before waking him.

  “How long?” Renal asks me.

  I shake my head. “Not sure.”

  “Did you see who struck me?”

  I harden my face, putting on a mask so that he will not know that my next words are a lie. “No.”

  He does not say anything as he rubs his head from where I had struck him, no doubt feeling the bump that forms and will be there for several days.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I should have been—”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Renal says, taking a deep breath and a pang of guilt strikes me for what I have done to him. “Sigal?”

  “Gone.”

  Another explosion roars across the city as fire leaps for the starry sky, escaping their confines while doing as much damage as possible, followed by the terrified screams of its victims as they try, in vain, to escape.

  “We have to go,” I say to Renal and help him to his feet.

  “This way!” he stops me when I run for the fires, pointing me in another direction.

  I follow him through the darkened streets, listening to the windows close as we approach each new building, while curious eyes try to hide behind them, praying that we will not notice, or be too preoccupied to care. More arbiters line the street and we join them, running for the trap doors that lead to the underground tunnels which run beneath Arel. Renal stops at a detainment center and scans his bracelet, punching in a code. A door opens.

  Together, we both jump through it, dropping to the tracks below. “In!” he yells at me, but he needn’t have bothered since I have already strapped myself into one of the seats of the two-seater railcar. Our car speeds away just as more railcars appear and more arbiters drop into the tunnels behind us, answering the alarms. We charge though the tunnels, the wind whipping through my hair, causing my eyes to water, and despite my attempts to blink them away, the tears do not cease. As my body jerks to the left as we bank right only to jerk to the right when we make a sharp left. My fingernails dig deep into my palms while I cling to my seat, afraid of falling out, even though my harness is fastened. Another sharp turn and our car decreases speed until coming to a sudden stop and flings my head forward before slamming it back into my headrest, giving me a sudden headache.

  Feeling woozy, I unfasten my harness and toss it off me, jumping out of my seat, stumbling for a few steps as I regain my footing, and chase after Renal who has already reached the tunnel’s exit. We take the metal steps two at a time and burst free of our underground tomb into a world filled with agonized screams, smothering smoke, and fires that melt the skin from our bodies. I stop, unable to comprehend the scene around me.

  Thick, black smoke engulfs the street, cutting us off from the rest of the city, choking any unfortunate to be its victim as it weaves its way over rooftops, people, and the pavement, searching for another to imprison in its grasp. A man collapses next to me. Bending low, I lift him to his feet, placing his arm over my shoulder as I carry him away from the inferno amidst the cries of the medical transports that appear, ready to do what they must to save those they can.

  “I’m okay,” he coughs as I sit him on the sidewalk. “The children! They’re still in there!”

  My heart freezes from his words. For the first time, I take a closer look at the building that burns and the pit in my stomach opens wider, forming a ravine that will never be filled: the school is on fire.

  “Get those waterpipes working!” Renal yells at a group of arbiters and others rush forward to help put out the roaring blaze.

  Time ceases its methodical step forward as I stare at the building that I had visited once as windows burst, sending shards of glass to those below who try to shield themselves from their fury, while others work in a frantic fashion to uncoil firehoses and spray water on the flames in a desperate attempt to put out what refuses to be vanquished. More shouts, more screams fill the air, but my fogged mind does not hear them as it focuses on the mournful cry of a child stuck on the second floor.

  I race for the entrance of the school, charging across the ground and ignoring Renal’s shouts as he tries to stop me. Flames burst th
rough the scorched doorframe before being sucked back into the building itself, repeating the process twice as I run for them. Telling myself to think of the gauntlet, I count the seconds between each burst, timing my approach. I pause just outside the entrance just as more flames spew from it. They dissipate. Seizing my chance, I leap through the doorway and dodge to the side, rolling across the ground just as another set of flames burst through the broken doors of the entrance in an effort to break free into the night air.

  Smoke fills my lungs, causing them to seize and cough in an effort to expel the tainted air. The more I cough, the more I choke. I tear off my jacket and tie it around my face like a mask to help filter out the smoke, but it does little to ease my breathing. Looking around, I search for a stairwell that will take me to the second level, while holding my jacket to prevent it from slipping off my face because of the sweat that pours down my cheeks, streaming its way down my neck and shoulders.

  “Hello!” I scream.

  No answer.

  “Anyone hear me?”

  Thunder fills my ears, making them hurt from the noise and drowning out all else as I run my soot-covered hand against the wall, while bits of paint melt away from it, doing my best to navigate my way through the school. Smoky darkness broken by fire looms around me, threatening to take me. My foot bumps something and I trip, falling to my hands and knees, wincing as bits of mortar delve underneath the skin, cutting their way deeper into my flesh. As I look at what has caused me to fumble, I jump back from the charred face that stares back at me, its eyes filled with terror from the agonizing death the person has suffered.

  A child’s cry for help pierces the roaring of the fire, jolting me back into the present and my current predicament. I jump to my feet and rush forward, while feeling my way around with my hands and feet, not wanting to trip over another body, while ceiling panels crash around me, warning me of the danger I am in. A light breaks free of its hold. I leap to the side before it can strike me as it swings from the one remaining wire that holds onto it, desperate to keep it in its place.

  Another cry for help.

  “I’m coming!” I yell but am unsure if anyone can hear me in this inferno.

  A clearing lies ahead. I run for it, ignoring the heat and the smoke, hoping to make it to the stairwell that I know is down this way. Spit fills my jacket as it shoots from my mouth due to my panting and coughing, but I remain focused on my goal: the stairs.

  A tremendous cracking sound fills the corridor, drowning the roars of the fire and my arm hairs stand on end while goosebumps form, warning me of impending danger far worse than what I am in. I push harder, but before I take three more steps, the ceiling in front of me crashes as a support beam digs into the floor, and I jump back, avoiding its crushing weight, landing on my side as bits of insulation, dust, and embers float around me, mixing with the thickening smoke.

  Stinging, burning pain engulfs my left forearm. With care, I raise it so that the light can touch it, revealing a severe burn and the bubbling, red and black skin it consists of. Grinding my teeth, I force myself to not think about the pain. I am an arbiter. I am strong and not subject to the whims of the flesh. Weakness is failure and failure, right here, right now, means death.

  I study the support beam that has fallen, barring my way, searching for a path around it, not willing to give up and sacrifice the people trapped here for my own sake. I spot it: a small, triangular opening just beneath the beam, just large enough for me to squeeze through. Repositioning my jacket around my nose and mouth, I charge for the opening, leaping over tiny flames that form a line, taunting me, telling me to turn back, but I ignore them and somersault on the floor once through. I turn back. The opening has disappeared, consumed by the fire as though mocking my efforts.

  Plunged into darkness, with only the smoke for a companion, I search around me and find the stairwell leading to the second floor, each step littered with plaster, concrete, and every other matter of debris. I place my foot on the first step, crunching the plaster spread across it as I lift myself up, placing my other foot on the second step, moving with care, unsure of what to expect and uncertain about the sturdiness of the stairs themselves. My sweaty palm slips from the banister and I lose my balance for a moment, coughing as I go, pressing my jacket into my face.

  A low whimper sounds above me.

  Desperate, I hurry up the stairs, taking them two at a time, almost tumbling when my foot slips. Tears stream from my eyes as the smoke irritates them, making everything look blurred and my rapid blinking does little to clear my vision, for each tear that is wiped away, two more take its place. Rubbing my face with the back of my hand and smearing soot on my skin as I do, I reach the part of the stairwell that curves and heads to the second level where nestled in a corner, head buried in his knees, sits one of the schoolchildren, his yellow uniform almost indistinguishable from the blackened debris around him.

  He looks up and panics.

  “It’s okay,” I say, pulling my jacket away from my face in an effort to calm him. “I’m here to help you.”

  “I’m scared,” he says through tears.

  Fear: the one thing that was never allowed at the training facility. If an arbiter feels fear, they are not fit to be an arbiter, or so I have been taught, and Molers always made it a point to remind recruits of what happens to them if they give into fear.

  I look into the boy’s frightened eyes, realizing that I am also afraid (What if Renal learns that I knocked him out and helped Sigal? What if I burn to death or am crushed from the weight of the building collapsing around me?), but if I give into this basic emotion, no one will be here to help the boy. “I am too,” I tell him in a soothing voice.

  He blinks at me.

  “Come on.” I hold my hand out to him. “Take my hand.”

  The boy reaches for my outstretched hand and I grasp his, pulling him toward me.

  “What about the others?”

  “Others?”

  The boy points up the stairs. “There are others trapped in a room.”

  For a split second, I consider leaving and carrying the boy out to safety, but my own conscience refuses to allow me to leave any who may still be trapped. “Take me to them,” I tell him, wrapping my jacket around his nose and mouth.

  He leads me up the stairs while bits of the paneling within the walls and ceiling fall around us, clacking on the linoleum floor, warning us that time grows short and our precious seconds tick by faster than we are able to move. The higher we go, the thicker the smoke becomes, and I bend low, hoping to escape it, but there is no way for me to crawl and carry him at the same time.

  “That room there,” says the boy.

  After being tormented by the thundering of the fire that ravages the floor below, my ears ring in the unnatural silence of the second floor as we creep to the room where other survivors wait for rescue, encased in gloom and the gnawing feeling that soon we will be cremated. The boy reaches for the button that controls the door, but I smack his hand away, pushing him behind me. Feeling the cool touch of the door’s fogged-glass exterior with the back of my hand, I conclude that it is safe to open it. I push the button next to it. Nothing happens. Frustrated, I hit the button again, but the door refuses to open, meaning that something has gone wrong with its mechanism.

  I need to break the glass. “Wait here,” I tell the boy, remembering seeing a plank of wood on the stairs.

  He grabs my waistband in fear, but I push him back against the wall, forcing my touch to be gentle so as to reassure him.

  “I’m coming back,” I promise him.

  With a doubtful look, he settles on the floor and wraps his arms around his knees. I dash off to the stairs, jumping down them, while clinging to the railing so as not to fall, and snatch the wood plank. A roaring sound fills my ears. Turning, I examine the bottom of the steps; the fire has reached the stairwell and will soon consume the second floor. Heart pounding, I race up the stairs, my boots beating the floor with harsh clomps as I ch
arge up them and hurry down the hallway to the room where the boy waits for me.

  “Stay back,” I tell him, panting.

  He stands behind me, but leans out, wanting to watch what I am about to do, forcing me to turn around, grab the jacket, and cover his face, shielding him from any glass that might fly.

  “Leave it,” I order the boy when he reaches up to remove my jacket from his face, and he places his hands back by his side.

  Taking a deep breath, I pull the plank back and ram it into the glass door, turning my head so as not to get bits of it in my eyes. A small crack appears in its center. Frowning, I raise the plank again and smash it into the door over and over until more and more cracks appear, creating a musical sound of tingling glass as shards tumble to the floor.

  “You okay?” I ask the boy, removing my jacket from his face and wrapping it around his nose and mouth once again.

  He nods his head. I push him through the door, using the toe of my boot to remove the remaining bits of glass from the door frame.

  “Hello?” I call, once through the door.

  Three faces appear, all tear-stained and terrified.

  “Come,” I tell them, waving them to me.

  The scraping of a desk against the floor snatches my attention, and I whirl around, finding a plebeian girl huddled in a corner, hiding behind a desk and its accompanying chair, her pale face smeared with soot and ash.

  “Just leave her,” says one of the children, but my glare silences her, and she recoils underneath it.

  I approach the plebeian, but she scooches further away from me, frightened of my uniform, forcing me to reconsider my actions. “Do you think you can coax her out?” I ask the boy I had found on the stairs.

  He gives me a disbelieving expression, but does as asked, inching his way toward the girl. She pulls away from him, and for a moment, I consider leaving her, not liking such an option, but the boy holds his hand out to her—no words are spoken between them—and she takes it, allowing herself to be yanked from her corner and join the rest of us. I shove them through the door—glass crunches underneath our feet—and push them toward the stairs when a low creaking fills the hallway; its intensity builds around us.