Gutless Part 2: The Truth About Ciprian Deveraux: The Labyrinth Front, #2

By Hana Engel

Hey there, it's Ki — though, you may know me better as "Psyche" from Pasty Grey's Incredible Labyrinth.

It's been two weeks since Charlie Blake came to the Labyrinth, and… I think he's having a hard time. No one really wants to talk to him or follow his lead, and he keeps stirring up trouble with Icarus' 28, the Withers, and Clancy Blackwood's gang.

If that wasn't bad enough, we have the Lunar Patrol coming up; a really dangerous patrol held every month under the full moon, when the Rift is at its weakest and Withers always try to break through.

Pasty's 28 is in charge of protecting the park during the patrol, but I don't know how Charlie is going to handle it when none of us wants to be there.

Still, he's our Leader now and I really believe in him. I can tell he wants to take care of us and protect us as much as he can — I just wish he wasn't so distracted with some kid from Icarus' 28.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Hannah Engel
• Release date: Jun 28, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393245018

Hana Engel

Hana Engel is a writer, dreamer, and creature of the mists. She likes monsters, other worlds, and the power of friendship.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Lies were easy to come by in an amusement park built over a tear between worlds, but he was still confident that his smile was the biggest lie of them all.

On the last day of July, the air was tight and sticky with heat from the rising sun. Humidity stifled his throat and sweat crawled down the back of Ciprian Deveraux’s sweater where it scrunched up against the gritty concrete wall.

A palm landed flat beside his face, but he didn’t flinch.

He was too strong for that.

Anik, we’re supposed to be killing Withers right now.

Drop the act, you little asshole, growled Anik, twisting his fingers in the mint green sweater. You’re in just as much trouble as me.

Ciprian tilted his head back, rolling it against the wall.

Sometimes, it felt like Pasty Grey’s Incredible Labyrinth was made of corners; nice little getaways for the bored and the violent. This corner was a huge drainpipe, built to make the Urban Jungle circuit look more edgy, but if you looked close, you would notice that the daring shades of gray and black paint had been carefully selected, and the graffiti on the walls spelled out only the family-friendliest of words and phrases.

Still, the concrete was real enough, and it burned where it pressed against his back.

I won’t be alone for long, you know, said Ciprian. Fridrik and Darcy are around here somewhere. Didn’t Darcy say he would break your jawbone the next time he saw you?

His mouth twisted with a giggle and Anik seized his sweater in both hands, wrenching him up on his toes against the tunnel wall.

"Shut up, Deveraux, you’re in the same boat as me! The only difference is that I can actually kill Withers and you rely on those two thugs to make you look good. Everyone knows it, especially Icarus Craven! Why else would he have us fight it out?!"

Anik jerked hard on the sweater, but Ciprian only rolled his eyes to the side and released a breath of impatience.

Aren’t you a little embarrassed to be threatened by a twelve-year-old? I mean, look at you. What do you have to worry about?

The heavy fists trembled against his chest. There was a gleeful part of Ciprian that would never tire of seeing the furious Beast of Icarus’ 28 quail beneath his intimidation. At seventeen, Anik Desmond already stood a full foot taller than him. His long limbs were thick with the sort of muscles Ciprian knew he would never see in his lifetime, and Anik’s wild hair fell out of its loose ponytail to cling around sharp cheekbones and a bit of shadow on his chin.

Ciprian looked down the length of him and smirked.

Oh, I see. You’re worried because you know that none of that muscle and meat-headed superiority matters in the end. Isn’t that right, Desmond?

Anik’s teeth clenched and he shoved him harder to the wall.

We’ve had this conversation before, Anik, and I’m getting a little tired of it. It doesn’t matter that we joined the 28 at the same time, or that you are a little better at killing Withers. You will be removed from Icarus’ 28 for the same reason Ember Grave got kicked out instead of me. Ciprian’s lower lip pouted. Are you really going to make me say it out loud?

Anik screamed angrily, shrill enough to echo down the long drainpipe, and he punched the concrete beside Ciprian’s ear.

Ciprian burst into loud laughter over the older boy’s furious panting. See? You went to all this trouble to get me alone and now you can’t even do anything about it!

Shut up! howled Anik, dragging him forward only to slam him back again. You think your grandfather will give a damn if you come home with a bruise or two on your stupid baby face?!

Ciprian was pleased to feel a familiar smile slide into place; like an oil slick over glossy asphalt.

"Maybe not. But my grandfather doesn’t like things that make him look bad, and if people got the idea that any slimy Greenland orphan can hit the grandson of a Council member and get away with it, well... that wouldn’t look good."

Anik ducked his head low, a long, furious sound shrieking up from his chest to his throat. It was a terrifying noise, like an animal succumbing to madness, but Ciprian went on smiling at him.

"That’s the difference between you and me, Beast. I know my place and how to benefit from Grandfather’s position. You don’t have anyone to raise your status, so all you can do is live in the mud all alone and whine about how much better you are."

Anik’s gaze swung up immediately.

An alarm went off in the back of Ciprian’s mind, a warning he usually associated with the dark glow of an office, or the flicker of firelight on an expensive library rug.

He almost reacted.

Almost.

He held Anik’s gaze steadily, smile firmly in place.

Guess so, said Anik, his voice low with rumbling emotion. "Yeah, maybe you’re right, Deveraux. Maybe I am all alone. Maybe it’s all pointless. Maybe I’ll get kicked outta the 28 no matter what I do."

The alarm shrilled higher.

Ciprian drew a breath as sweat slid down under his collar.

"But hey. If it really is hopeless... then I guess I have nothing to lose if I beat the life out of you right now."

The ringing built like water in his ears, his heart sped up and his cheeks stung with hot pins and needles.

He’s going to hit me.

The fist landed. His short cry muffled beneath flooded ears. His head whipped sideways and fingers in his hair shoved his face into the concrete.

Anik leaned in close, snarling vicious words, but little could penetrate the wall of water, or the wailing alarm system going off in Ciprian’s mind.

"...think you’re so cute ...can’t even use your power... gonna break your skull... your brain... see what’s inside!"

Ciprian’s vision flickered. He was hit again. He stared at the words Peace & Love spray-painted in electric orange.

He heard his own soaked breathing as the ringing died down. Anik wrenched him forward and Ciprian scrambled blindly, trying to grab the other boy’s arms.

He’s not allowed to do this! He’ll be in so much trouble!

But the other voice was far more convincing.

He doesn’t care. You’re in even more trouble.

Anik backhanded him and the extra force of the Beast stone slammed Ciprian’s cheek into the concrete.

What’s that? Anik hissed, winching his fist all the way back to his ear. What was Punch gonna do to my jaw?

Ciprian bit back a cry, and then, to his horror, he squeezed his eyes shut.

Don’t close your eyes! No!

Ciprian’s feet yanked out from under him.

He yelped and slid down the wall, landing gracelessly on his rear as the fist collided with the concrete above him. Anik howled in pain, hurtling backwards with an angry scream.

Ciprian’s eyes sprung open.

There was a dizzying moment when he fully expected to see Fridrik or Darcy crouched before him; come to his rescue and ready to beat the living hell out of Anik Desmond.

But it wasn’t either of them.

It was someone else.

It was him.

Ciprian’s heart tumbled into a swirl of fury and dull panic.

"You..."

Charlie Blake turned in his low crouch to face him, his small frame drowning in a pale pink hoodie. The green eyes were wide with concern and blurred over with snowy bangs as he searched Ciprian’s face, clocking each injury with increasing worry.

Ciprian? Hey, Ciprian, are you okay? Can you—?

Ciprian lurched back, drawing up his knees and kicking the boy square in the stomach. Charlie toppled back onto his elbows in the greasy tunnel, nearly colliding with Anik’s legs.

Ciprian staggered upright, heaving breaths to clear his seizing airways and force the water from his ears.

"Stay — hh — away from me! Don’t you touch me!"

The echo of his voice died into hollow silence and Ciprian gripped the wall to stay upright, feeling the spring eyes on him.

Ciprian?

Ciprian!

Footsteps pounded down the tunnel, but the familiar voices were a shallow comfort. Ciprian looked up blearily as Darcy Forth came to a halt beside him, glaring across the drainpipe.

You bastard, he growled, taking a half-step towards Anik, before Ciprian’s hand on his elbow brought him up short.

Wait.

Darcy paused as Fridrik slouched over to join them. Where Darcy was slender and gaunt, with aggressive corners and sharp elbows, Fridrik Ingolfsson was muscular and burly, with a swath of pale facial hair and a tight sweater that could barely contain his brawny chest.

They were opposites in both personality and interests, but they had one very important thing in common.

Him, said Ciprian, rubbing a hand over his bruised mouth and pointing directly across the tunnel. He did it.

Darcy frowned in surprise. Leader?

No way, said Fridrik. He wouldn’t dare.

Charlie didn’t say a word. He watched Ciprian silently from the ground, as though the other three were not even there.

Fury boiled over in Ciprian’s chest.

Hold, Punch, he snapped. You heard me. Take care of it!

Darcy shrugged gamely and Fridrik moved behind Charlie, seizing him by the arms and hauling him to his feet.

The hell are you doing? said Anik, watching in confusion as Fridrik dragged Charlie back to the mouth of the tunnel.

Darcy followed them, cracking his knuckles loudly.

"Big mistake, Leader. I know you just got here and all, but you should really know better than to mess with Icarus’ 28."

Charlie still wouldn’t look at him, so Darcy drew back his fist and jabbed it hard into the boy’s stomach, knocking out a low hiss of pain.

Darcy scowled.

Not good enough. Try again.

His fist sank in harder and Charlie bit out a ragged cry, sinking down in Fridrik’s hold. Darcy grinned, reeling in again.

Ciprian quickly turned away.

The hell is this?! Anik shouted. This was between you and me, Ciprian! Why’re you dragging Leader into this?! He was trying to save you!

Yeah, about that, said Ciprian, ignoring the sounds of the beatdown at his back and poking at the welt on his cheek. He winced delicately. "You’re lucky a scapegoat came along. Really, Anik? Beating me up like some schoolyard bully? Are you trying to get kicked out of the 28? You know how Icarus Craven feels about infighting."

Anik stared right past him, his attention drawn by Charlie’s distress. Darcy socked the boy in the gut and Charlie gave a retching shout, falling to gasping coughs while Darcy and Fridrik laughed. Ciprian’s stomach turned over. He shoved away from the wall, advancing on Anik.

Here’s the thing, Beast: we both know Icarus is going to kick one of us out, and after my birthday, we will fight to decide who that is. I’m sure you’ll put up a good struggle, like you always do, but I am equally sure that I will win regardless. Because, at the end of the day, Icarus would never risk angering the Council, and my grandfather has made it clear that he wants me in the 28. But you seem to think I’m full of it, so let me suggest a bet.

Darcy paused the beating and Ciprian could tell that he was listening.

A familiar excitement welled up inside of him.

What bet? Anik snarled.

Whichever of us is chosen to stay in the 28, said Ciprian, will get to do whatever they want to the loser.

Anik waited, his eyes narrowing. What’s the catch?

No catch. If I win and you get kicked out of the 28, then I’ll come up with some really creative penalty for you.

"And if I win?"

Then I’m yours for the thrashing, said Ciprian. "But that’s the point, Anik: you won’t win. You see, Icarus Craven may think he’s deciding who joins and leaves his 28, but it’s the Council who really decides, and they only care about their own. I’m afraid, dear Beast, that you are nothing more than ordinary Caen trash."

Anik lunged at him, an angry growl in his throat, but he halted abruptly, glancing down the tunnel.

Ciprian smiled. Yeah, I wouldn’t do that. Leader is working hard so that you can get off scot-free. You wouldn’t want that kind gesture to go to waste, now would you?

Anik stayed silent and Ciprian could suddenly hear Charlie’s shuddering breath.

"Would you, Beast?"

Anik glared darkly at him, then he took a step back, leveling a finger at Ciprian’s face.

"You’re gonna lose that bet, kid. You have no clue how to use your power and I’m gonna destroy you right in front of Craven and your precious Council granddaddy. And after I’ve beaten you, make no mistake, Shackle, I’ll make you pay for this. I’ll make you pay for everything."

Ciprian felt the quake in his muscles then, the numbing of his extremities turning him to liquid. He smiled, waving a hand.

Good luck with that. Off you go.

Anik gnashed his teeth at him, but he was also smiling. Then he burst past Ciprian and his friends and dropped down out of the drainpipe, taking off through the Urban Jungle circuit.

Ciprian let out a steady breath, feeling firm ground restore beneath him, and a sense of control returning to his fingertips.

Ciprian...

The voice made him jolt. It was low and husky with pain but strangely calm. Ciprian set his face firmly into an expression he liked for such occasions; the one that made him look a little like a princeling, a little like his grandfather.

He whirled to face Charlie Blake and only felt the tiniest slip in the façade when he saw the boy’s pale cheeks.

Something to say, Leader? said Ciprian, infusing his voice with disdain to cover up his slip.

Charlie smiled faintly and shook his head.

Ah... never mind... I don’t really want to discuss it in front of them, anyway. He jerked his head at Fridrik and Darcy. It’s none of their business.

Ciprian’s heart froze over at the words and Charlie’s spring eyes were on him again, trying to thaw him out and understand.

Though it should be, Ciprian. It really should be. If you can’t tell your friends the important things, then who can you tell?

Ciprian’s vision went white.

He strode forward, fury pounding in every muscle; so much rage that he couldn’t even feel his mouth move when he shouted, "We’re not done yet, Punch. He hasn’t learned anything!"

Darcy grinned a foul smile and drove his fist under Charlie’s ribs. The soft voice cracked on a scream and Ciprian withdrew as the beating resumed. Charlie sank down on his knees while Darcy beat the boy’s small body back into Fridrik’s massive chest, each blow landing like it could puncture a hole straight through.

Ciprian’s heart flailed around in his ribcage as the dull noises and cruel laughter clawed up the walls of the drainpipe.

He wanted to hide, but he would see this through.

Because he was angry.

Because he could.

Because, two weeks ago, Charlemagne Blake had been the single witness to the weakest moment in Ciprian Deveraux’s life, and he would make sure that this scrappy little nobody paid dearly for his intrusion.

Chapter 2

The last Ghoul fell dead at his feet and Clancy Blackwood was instantly bored.

Distraction. I need it back. I need it fast.

He kicked the corpse hard down the manhole and into the incinerator below, then stood back to watch it burn.

The Ghouls had been without a Nucleus since Canis Major was mercilessly destroyed by newcomer, Reita Forsyth. Low-level Withers with no master to follow roamed more freely about the world, but without the power of a Nucleus to fuel them, they were much weaker and far easier to kill.

Read: more boring to kill.

Damn, Clanc, said Dashaun Perry, planting his fists on his hips and nodding in exaggerated approval at the sight of the alley. You really redecorated the place. Going with the ever-popular gory splatter look, I see.

Ew, said Dani. How many did you get anyway? It’s a little hard to tell.

A lot, said Clancy, toeing another corpse over the edge and into the incinerator. Not enough.

That’s our Clancy, said Mael Favre, wafting past him like a creature moving downwind. Back in the zone.

I’m not in the zone. Not even close.

Never left, Clancy said loudly, reaching out to swat at Mael. Don’t underestimate me.

Dani groaned, kicking her heels into the dumpster she sat on and throwing her head back. "Ugh, I missed everything. Stupid school! I swear, if Simon Bailey weren’t such a damn terrifying homeroom teacher, there’s no way I’d show. Ever. I don’t get why Pasty makes us go in the first place. We’re killing freakin’ monsters here. Who the hell cares what a split infinitive is?"

Then don’t go. That’s what I do.

Mael lounged proudly against the dumpster and Dani reached down to ruffle his soft hair.

Aw, there’s our little delinquent.

The boy growled, batting her hands away.

Clancy hid a smile. Mael had belonged to a different gang in the Labyrinth before joining theirs, and though his time with them wasn’t something he liked to talk about, the experience had left him with a rare gift for truancy.

"Grahw! Clancy howled, rubbing both hands through his highlighted black hair. This is the worst. Is there anything else to kill around here?"

Not so much, said Dashaun. Icarus’ 28 is totally hogging Ariadne’s Thread. I tried to jump in and Jade Jackobi nearly took my head off with that battle axe. Pretty sure he did it on purpose.

Lowlifes, said Dani. We could head to the Carnival circuit. Heard Warrior was fighting some of Lyra’s—

She broke off quickly. Far too late.

Just like that, Clancy felt the lips crush into his and the dark draw of Nucleus power flowing into him, leaving him breathless and vulnerable.

Nothing had made sense after Lyra kissed him, nothing had been in focus. He remembered her laughter as he struggled to get up off his knees. He remembered grabbing the back of Dashaun’s jacket while she chased after them.

He remembered running for his life.

You’re the one. I like you best.

Her words still burned in his ears and his stomach, but worse were the words no one else had heard; the ones she had whispered for his ears only.

"What a scared little monster you are. So big and tough. But you’re not really all that strong, are you? That’s okay... I’ll come for you later, baby. Don’t you worry. I’ll teach you everything."

Mael turned and punched Dani viciously in the knee.

Ow, she said. Oh, come on, Clancy. It’s no big deal. So, she’s a creepy-psycho-kissing Nucleus. So what? We’ll kill her the next time she shows her ugly face, same as always. Right?

Dani turned to Dashaun who shrugged easily.

Sure. We can handle her no problem.

There you go. So, Carnival circuit?

Clancy grinned. Nah, since when does Icarus’ 28 get to tell us where we can and can’t kill Withers? We’ll sort them out first, then maybe swing by Carnival after. Sound good?

Let’s do it, said Mael blandly, holding a fist aloft. We will be victorious.

Dani leapt down off the dumpster, wrapping Mael in a fond stranglehold.

You snot. I’mma feed you to some Hydras.

Mael bit her arm hard and Dani quickly let go.

Ah! Geez, Mael!

Clancy laughed, following after them, his hands deep in his pockets, his thoughts moving on from dangerous territory.

Clanc...

He stopped. He turned.

Dashaun, he retorted, with a placid grin.

For a moment, he could see everything plainly in his friend’s face. Clancy knew that, once upon a time, there would have been a conversation about what had happened in the Coliseum. They would have asked him why he had taken Ki hostage only to call out Charlie Blake, they would have made a plan to deal with Lyra if she came back, they would have talked about it all.

It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them anymore, or that he didn’t want to tell them what he was thinking. It was just that he didn’t want to think at all — and he wouldn’t tolerate anyone who told him to do it anyway.

Are you sure you’re...?

Dashaun’s words died to silence.

Clancy wondered if his friend could sense the same thing he had felt for months; that the bond of friendship the four of them shared had become a stale, burdensome thing; that somewhere along the line, it may have ceased to exist at all.

Then Dashaun said, You’re ringing, bro.

Clancy looked down in surprise. The sickly glow of his cell phone burned out from beneath the pocket of his uniform jacket, which he wore open over a red silk shirt like a revolt.

He pulled out the phone and stared at the name.

An eager smile curled his lips. Perfect timing.

He swung the phone to his ear, catching the interest of the other three.

Rival, said Clancy, loud and boisterous. How’s the world of tyrannical oppression treating you, ya beholden bastard?

A low snort sputtered in his ear, and a Welsh accent spat a curse that Clancy couldn’t pronounce.

Come to the Haunted Ruins circuit and find out, you lawless son of bitch, Gabriel Morgan replied.

Clancy grinned and Dashaun smirked back, shaking his head.

Pleasure, said Clancy, hot blood already pumping through his veins, ready for action. We’re on our way.

Chapter 3

S o, Charlemagne, I understand Wake came to visit you.

The words hit the high stone walls, whipping back into his ears and letting him know how bad they sounded.

Over the years, Pasty Grey had added a lot to his Incredible Labyrinth. Sometimes he created entire circuits with thrilling rides, themed restaurants, and dazzling attractions. Sometimes he put up towering walls to block off those same circuits, hiding them from a curious public. Mostly he created a lot of alleys and shortcuts to offer the 28 a faster route through the dangerous maze.

The Labyrinth had begun in the standard style of concentric circles moving ever towards the center where the Minotaur stood. But as the years went on, the Rift spread outward, and the park lost its tidy design to chaos. Now circuits sprawled out wherever they were needed as the Withers flocked to the weakest places in the Rift, sometimes leaving Pasty with no choice but to close the doors to his finest circuits and hope the walls would hold until a few superpowered teenagers could eradicate the monsters.

Charlemagne! It’s been a while! So... Reita told me about Wake...

The magician shuddered.

He was certain that the memory of Reita Forsyth descending upon him like a menacing fog would haunt him for the rest of life. He had seized Pasty by the collar and yanked him up on his toes, his eyes a raging wildfire drenched in molten tree sap. His other fist was raised in the air, hanging between them like a very likely outcome.

What can I do for you, Gargoyle?

Pasty couldn’t imagine what had possessed him to pull out Reita’s newly minted 28 title at a time like that, but the boy hadn’t punched him after all. He had merely lowered his voice.

Wake attacked Charlie.

Maybe that had been the more scarring thing; the words, or the way Reita’s voice broke when he said them. He went on to quietly explain the encounter from his own perspective, notably leaving out details that he apparently thought were only between Charlie and himself.

Once again, Pasty was astonished by the friendship binding the two of them together.

Astonished and jealous.

Jealous and worried.

Worried and relieved.

Where there was friendship there was hope, that had been his philosophy for as long as he could remember. But it also explained a great deal of why he was such a miserable man.

Reita told me about Wake...

Pasty