The Lightning's Claim Read online

  THE LIGHTNING’S CLAIM

  Copyright © 2020 by K. M. Fahy

  All Rights Reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First edition: November 2020

  * * *

  BALIANT PUBLISHING

  https://www.kmfahyauthor.com

  * * *

  Cover Design by Maria Spada

  https://www.mariaspada.com

  * * *

  Edited by Emma O’Connell

  https://emmasedit.com

  * * *

  Formatted by Clare Kae

  https://www.clarekae.com

  * * *

  ISBN (paperback): 978-1-7361672-1-2

  ISBN (e-book): 978-1-7361672-0-5

  Acknowledgments

  To all those who’ve taken this crazy journey with me.

  To Katie, my best friend, who gave me the strength every single day to get up and write again. Your endless encouragement, love, and 4 a.m. reading made this book a reality, and I can never thank you enough.

  To Katie A. and Clare, my Skittle Sisters. Your wisdom and support throughout this publishing process made all the difference in my life. You are both so giving, so generous, and two of the most incredible women I have ever met.

  To Nicholas, my creative sounding board, filler of plot holes, and constant source of inspiration. You’ve motivated my writing since the day we met, and gave me the courage I needed to share my work with the world.

  To Alicia and Jena, who watched this book grow from its conception and helped me turn those whacky concepts into something beautiful. You taught me so much about writing, and have cheered me on every step of the way.

  And, because I always said I would when it came time to publish: To my dear friends at the Old Chicago bar in Greeley, Colorado, where I wrote the vast majority of these words. You’ve treated me like family, and always kept the Blue Moon and laughter flowing.

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Kitieri chose her steps wisely. The cobblestones along the dilapidated street jutted up at odd angles, waiting to trip the next person foolish enough to lift their gaze, and the last thing she needed was a sprained ankle to put her out of work.

  Especially when I’m this close.

  Slipping her hand into the pocket of her leather jacket, her fingers brushed the small pebbles that had congregated in the deepest corner of the lining. Every day of hard labor, every bit earned, brought her closer to freedom.

  Kitieri blew a stream of air through pursed lips, shaking her hand free of the pocket’s confines to wrap both arms tightly around her aching body. Across the street, a fire element lit the lantern hanging outside his rickety front door with a snap of his fingers before returning to his work, and Kitieri squinted against the setting sun to catch a glimpse of the day’s project—a small doll, it seemed.

  She smiled wistfully. Though they’d never spoken, she always admired the process and artistry of the fire’s woodworking, burning away tiny pieces with his red-hot fingertips to create art. Every day, as she passed his house on her way home from the mines, she longed for such a useful element. Hells, anything other than the curse with which she’d been saddled would be an improvement.

  Fire glanced up to catch her stare, and Kitieri shot her gaze back down to the cobblestones, ashamed. Wishing didn’t put food on the table. Her shovel did.

  With her next breath, Kitieri tasted the hint of tangy electricity on the air, and she froze in the middle of the street. Someone rammed into her shoulder from behind, knocking her forward.

  “Watch it!” the man shouted, throwing his dirty, calloused hands into the air. Kitieri ignored him, lifting her eyes to the sky. Spattered with the vivid golds, pinks, and purples of the setting sun, it betrayed no hint of the terror that roiled above the clouds. As she lifted one hand into the breeze, the familiar tingling sensation touched her fingers.

  A Strike was close.

  Kitieri quickened her pace, slipping past the man who’d run into her and others in the oblivious crowd. Most were weary miners, like her, coming home from work, but none could smell the mounting charge… and this one was coming fast. She didn’t need to look to know that there was not a life-saving Gadget among the crowd. Not in this part of town. Here, those who could not afford to buy the protection simply died, and the Blue Killer did not give second chances.

  The first warning sent a hot pulse through Kitieri’s body, jarring her insides and stealing her breath away. Screams erupted from the crowd as people fled for shelter, and Fire abandoned the unfinished doll on his chair to rush inside and slam the door behind him. Kitieri kicked into a full sprint, cobblestones be damned, even as cold dread churned in her stomach.

  It’s too far.

  She’d never make it home before the three warnings were up and one poor soul lost their life. To step outside was to dance with death, and the Blue Killer always claimed a victim.

  The second warning hit, stronger than the first, eliciting a gasp from Kitieri as she stumbled. Windows and doors slammed shut all along the street; it was every man for himself when the warnings started, and no one took risks on a stranger.

  Kitieri swore, glancing around for her best chance at survival.

  Find a shelter. Any shelter.

  The Strike’s range usually only spanned about one neighborhood, and once or twice she’d managed to escape its clutches by simply running, but the best chance always rested with a roof and walls.

  The third and final warning knocked Kitieri to her knees; her palms hit the cold, damp cobblestones as electricity pulsed through her body in sickening waves. Shaking, she forced a deep breath into her lungs.

  The atmosphere shifted, and Kitieri felt the eye of the Strike appear. Its energy called to hers, an unholy screech only she could hear, and its burning gaze swiveled. The invisible demon skittered above the clouds, hungry for death as it swept over the remaining panicked stragglers in the street to fix its eye on her. It had made its choice, and it was ready to kill.

  Kitieri launched to her feet, sprinting down the treacherous road as the Strike followed, gathering its hateful energy. No matter how fast she ran, she would be reduced to a pile of ashes in mere seconds if she didn’t find shelter.

  Turning, she spied a squat structure nestled back between two houses with a low-lying window, and ran for her life as the Strike readied itself.

  “I don’t think so,” she growled.

  Her muscles screamed as she pushed her body at full speed, running on adrenaline alone. She kicked off the ground onto a square bale that had fallen from its pile beneath the window and launched herself through the glass, elbows first. It shattered un
der the impact, flying all around her as she hit the floor, and a flash of blue split the sky with a deafening crack.

  Kitieri lay frozen, body trembling, with her arms still poised over her head. The light outside returned to the muted shades of dusk, and she let out a long, shaky breath.

  “Holy shit,” she whispered.

  Thousands of tiny glass shards clinked and fell to the floor as she lowered her arms and rolled onto her side. When she looked up, several pairs of beady, glinting eyes were watching her from across the dim room, and she jumped back against the wall.

  One of the creatures stepped from the shadow.

  Goats.

  Kitieri’s hand flew to her chest with a relieved sigh, and she tilted her head back with a dark laugh.

  “Thank you, nonexistent gods, for sparing my insignificant life,” she declared with a mock bow as she regained her feet. “I am not worthy of your grand punishment.”

  She brushed the dirt off her black pants and jacket and shook the remaining pieces of glass out of her long, pale hair. Minor cuts laced the backs of her hands and similar pricks of pain dotted her face, but it was nothing that wouldn’t heal in a day or two.

  “Gods, my ass,” she muttered. The nearest goat ducked its head, brown eyes still fixated on her with those weird, horizontal pupils, and she frowned. “What do you want?”

  The goat twitched its ears and sauntered back to its companions, who had already lost interest in their unexpected visitor. Kitieri walked to the window, where jagged pieces stuck out all around the edges, and chewed the inside of her lip. Though glass was fairly inexpensive in Shirasette, even the smallest of setbacks could put a family under in this district.

  She plunged her hand into her jacket pocket and fished out the four little chips of black stone — her day’s pay. So little for such exhausting labor. But if she worked even harder over the next few days, maybe she could—

  The loud bleat of a goat startled her out of her thoughts, and she jumped. With a soft sigh, Kitieri set two of the bits down on the windowsill amidst the glass shards.

  “Sorry about your window,” she said to the goat, and let herself out the stable door.

  She had not taken three steps before she spotted the corpse, charred and smoking in the grass. It looked to be a large bird, perhaps a raven or hawk. The smell of burning feathers and flesh filled her nose, and she turned her head away. Though the lightning sought out human blood whenever possible, there was always a victim. She’d been a split second away from that bird’s fate, she knew, and suddenly the price of two bits for a window and her life didn’t seem so steep.

  Kitieri returned to the main street, now utterly abandoned. A few window shutters opened up, but the day was effectively over for these working folk. A chill settled in the air as the sky grew darker, and Kitieri set a brisk pace toward home.

  At the sight of the little hut, she released the breath she’d been holding and covered the rest of the distance at a jog. As the door swung open into the dark interior, a high-pitched shriek greeted her ears.

  “Kitieri!”

  Two small forms bolted from the shadows, and she dropped to one knee to welcome her younger siblings into her arms.

  “We were so afraid the lightning got you!” Jera cried.

  “We felt the warnings here,” Taff added.

  Kitieri pulled back, smoothing the straight blonde hair on both heads. Taff was the middle sibling, five years older than Jera but seven years Kitieri’s junior.

  “Not even close,” she lied. “Jera, why don’t you light the lantern?”

  “Really?” Jera’s innocent face broke into a wide smile, and Kitieri grinned back. She could afford to relax the rules for just one night. A bit of light and warmth might do them all some good.

  “Really,” she confirmed. “Taff, bring out the rest of the meat and cheese, and we can have a proper feast tonight. How about that?”

  Beaming, Jera ran for the matches. Taff stayed put, folding his arms across his narrow chest.

  “‘Not even close,’ huh?” He raised one eyebrow, but kept his voice down. “What’s with all the cuts on your face, then?”

  Kitieri raised a hand to touch her cheek, where the cool night air had numbed the sting during her walk home. She sighed, standing up from her kneeling position, and suppressed a grimace at the protest of her stiff muscles. Taff’s brow twitched in concern, and she laid a hand on his shoulder.

  “I’m fine, Taff,” she said. “There’s no reason to get Jera worked up over something that didn’t happen.”

  Taff studied her for a moment, but let the subject drop.

  “Can we afford that?” he asked, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to where Jera was dragging the heavy metal lantern onto the kitchen table.

  “It’s all right,” she assured him. “I’ll go to the market tomorrow after work. We can’t live our entire lives starving in the dark.”

  “I wish you’d let me go to the market for you,” Taff sighed.

  “No,” Kitieri said. “Until I can afford the Gadget, you and Jera are only safe here.”

  He dropped his gaze to his feet, and Kitieri gave his shoulder a light shake.

  “Hey,” she whispered. “I know this is hard on you, but we’re close.”

  Taff looked up at her, surprise flashing in his eyes.

  “How close?”

  Before Kitieri could answer, Jera came rushing back with the big lantern grasped in both hands, lighting up their faces in the warm glow.

  “Thank you, Jera!” Kitieri took the lantern and hung it from its hook in the wall. “Now how about that feast, Taff?”

  With a defeated grin, her brother walked to the pantry, Jera bouncing after him.

  As their good-natured squabbling commenced, Kitieri slipped into her and Jera’s shared bedroom to pull off her leather jacket. It had been an unusually expensive gift from her father to her mother many years ago, and Kitieri cherished its strong, yet supple material. She wondered from time to time if her mother would be proud or disappointed that she wore it in the cintra mines for its protection against the harsh wind. Disappointed was the most likely of the two, she imagined. She’d always fit into that category when compared to her talented elemental siblings.

  Kitieri hung the jacket on the rack, dragging her fingers down one of the soft sleeves.

  “I wish you worked against Strikes like you do against wind,” she mumbled. But only the cintra-laden Gadgets worked against those. The idiotic-looking, impossibly expensive backpacks were the ultimate sign of wealth throughout Shirasette, and miners were never supposed to be able to afford them.

  Pulling the remainder of her day’s pay from the jacket’s pocket, Kitieri crossed to the wide, squat dresser and pulled out the box in which her mother had kept their family keepsakes. Kitieri had long ago sold anything of value, and it now held her savings from the past three years.

  She opened the lid and stared at the collection of shiny black stones. Pushing the small bits aside with her finger, she pulled out the two caps at the bottom of the box. The flat, polished stones almost took up her entire palm.

  Kitieri still remembered holding her first cap after exchanging a thousand bits at the Church of Enahris. She recalled the man’s annoyed look as he’d counted one thousand rocks out onto the table, but that was how the mines paid her, and she’d made it a point to avoid both Churches when possible. Nothing good happened in those places, as her father used to say.

  But after almost three years, her little box held two caps, nine rounds, and ninety-two bits. Examining the two remaining bits after the window disaster, Kitieri reluctantly set them aside. She’d told Taff she’d go to the market tomorrow, and putting money promised to other things into her savings felt like a lie. If she could get some good bargains and save all of her pay for the next two days, she would finally have enough to buy a Gadget.

  Two more days.

  She closed the box, daring to let the grin cross her face. She had worked herself to th
e bone for this, and her eighteen-year-old body felt closer to forty from the constant digging and hauling. Still, she had to admit, she was luckier than some. The mines were protected from Strikes with all the cintra buried in the hills, leaving her vulnerable only on her way to and from work. Everyone knew it was a trap, keeping miners in the never-ending cycle of labor for pitiful wages, but it had been her only option when their parents had died. Someone had to provide for Taff and Jera.

  Kitieri closed the drawer and walked back to the main room, where Taff was arranging the meats and cheeses on a wooden platter. Kitieri leaned against the doorframe, watching him swat playfully at Jera as she reached for bits of food before he was done.

  “Kitieri!” Jera noticed her reappearance and ran to her. “Look what I learned today!”

  Kitieri pushed off the frame with her elbow, squinting down at Jera’s outstretched palms in the soft lamplight. Her sister’s face was screwed up in concentration, and her hands trembled with the effort. Kitieri frowned. Was Jera really trying to…?

  A sheen covered Jera’s palms, and Kitieri’s eyes widened.

  “Jera!”

  “Keep watching!” the girl ordered, keeping her focus on her hands. The sheen of moisture condensed into bigger droplets that rolled down her fingers to pool in her palms, and she looked up at Kitieri with big gray eyes full of pride.

  Kitieri barked a short laugh. “Jera, that’s incredible! I’ve never heard of anyone creating their element from nothing at your age before!”

  Jera flicked her hands up, sending the tiny pools of water into an evaporated puff between them.