BVC Announces Rebel by Sherwood Smith
Rebel
by Sherwood Smith
The third book in the thrilling post-apocalyptic series. In a world of mutant powers and deadly creatures, the greatest peril threatening Las Anclas comes from inside its walls…
The tyrant king Voske has been defeated, but all is not peaceful in Las Anclas. Ross’s past comes back to haunt him, Jennie struggles with her new career, Mia faces her fears, Felicite resorts to desperate measures to keep her secrets, Kerry suspects that Las Anclas hasn’t seen the last of her father, and shy Becky Callahan holds the key to a dangerous mystery. In Rebel, family ties can strangle as well as sustain, long-held secrets of past and present are revealed, and a new danger threatens to consume the entire town…
What readers are saying about Rebel:
“This is the best book in the Change series so far!”
“Highly enjoyable character-driven YA fantasy.”
“The worldbuilding is amazingly detailed and well thought out. I loved the Wild West setting, the references to our time period, the scary trees, and the unique wildlife. The action is exciting and fast paced. I kept turning the pages, anxious to see if my favourite characters were safe.”
“This book, just like the previous two volumes, is, above all, likable. Not just because it features a fascinating world and a whole set of likable characters, but also because the whole attitude of the authors – towards representation, towards diversity, towards portraying complex emotions well – makes it precious, and a deliciously immersive read.”
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Sherwood Smith writes fantasy and science fiction.
Buy Rebel in the BVC bookstore
Read a Sample
1
ROSS
Ross Juarez scanned the crowded town square of Las Anclas as warily as if they were an anti-Changed mob ready to run him out the gates. He almost wished they were. He’d know how to handle that. But his first holiday in his new home was unexplored territory, and far more nerve-wracking.
The square had transformed overnight into a holiday marketplace lined with decorated booths selling gifts for Christmas and Hanukkah and New Year and winter celebrations he’d never even heard of before.
And that wasn’t all. Every single person in that crowd knew how to give a present. Even if they were young enough to have never done it themselves, they’d grown up with gift exchanges. Ross was the only one with no idea what he was doing.
Then he spotted a slim figure poised as if waiting for the battle to begin. Kerry Ji Sun Cho, who had once been Kerry Voske, crown princess of Gold Point, also seemed to be inspecting the crowd for ambushes and enemies rather than gifts and friends.
While Ross knew he looked as uncomfortable as he felt, she appeared cool and haughty. But he bet she didn’t feel so cool inside. She must have given presents before, so she couldn’t be worried about doing that wrong. But he knew she was as certain as he was that someday King Voske would return to Las Anclas. And the two of them—Voske’s renegade daughter and the prospector she’d helped to bring down his empire—would be first to get their heads put on pikes.
Kerry whipped around as if she’d felt Ross watching her. Like a pair of magnets, they drew closer until they stood together at the edge of the crowd.
“Expecting assassins?” Kerry’s slanting eyebrows rose, adding to her tone of offhand joking.
“I wasn’t.” Ross scanned the crowd for weapons. “Are you?”
She dropped the light tone, leaving only raw honesty. “Always.”
“I didn’t mean—” Ross broke off, frustrated. She’d been teasing, like normal people did, and he’d replied way too seriously. Now she probably felt as weird as he did. “Yeah. You’re right. Your father will send some eventually. But probably not today. Anyway, that wasn’t it. I’ve never given a gift before. I don’t know how. And—”
Ross stopped himself before adding, “I feel stupid.” Kerry could probably see that for herself.
The sardonic twist to her sharp features smoothed into genuine sympathy. They’d only known each other for a few months, but they’d learned a lot about each other in that short time—first while Ross had been Voske’s prisoner, and later when they’d fled through the desert after she’d broken him out and helped him blow up the Gold Point dam. She’d given up her life in Gold Point to save his, but she hadn’t done it for him. She’d made that sacrifice for Mia, if she’d made it for anybody, but mostly she’d done it because it had been the right thing to do.
What did you even call that sort of relationship? Friendship seemed both too much and not enough. Ross and Kerry didn’t make arrangements to spend time together, like Kerry did with Becky, Mia, and Meredith. But in those seven nights in the desert, they’d learned what haunted each other’s dreams. He bet none of her other friends knew that.
Kerry tucked a strand of hair into her braid. The blue-black gloss reminded him of Mia’s carelessly clipped bangs, just as the shape of Kerry’s eyes made him think of Mia’s eager gaze from behind wire-rimmed glass. But while he could often guess what was on Mia’s mind by watching her face and body, Kerry’s cool expression was less a window than a mirror of polished steel. She might be thinking about him or friendship or gifts or assassins, or something else entirely.
“Giving holiday presents isn’t that complicated, Ross,” Kerry said, simply but without condescension. “If you’re going to a party with the person you have a present for, it’ll have a time for gift-giving. If you’re not, give it to them alone on the day of whatever holiday they celebrate.”
“Right,” Ross muttered. “Got it.”
It was obvious once she’d explained it. But the whole idea of holidays, of crowds, of families—of how important they were in Las Anclas, and of how he was the only person who was experiencing them for the first time—made his brain lock up like a rusty engine.
“And if you don’t know what they’d like to get, ask someone who knows them well,” Kerry advised. With that, she lifted her chin high and stepped into the crowd. People cleared a path for her without seeming to notice that they were doing it. If Ross had plunged in like that, he’d have collided with six people at once.
He’d ask about Jennie. Lots of people knew her well, so she’d be easiest to start with.
He didn’t pursue Kerry, as she and Jennie found each other’s company awkward at best. But he spotted one of Jennie’s adopted sisters at a booth selling potted plants, her head of prickly black hair bent over a writhing scarlet eater-rose in a glazed blue pot.
Ross made his way to her through the crowd, gritting his teeth against the ever-present murmur of danger, danger, danger thrumming through his body and mind.
Yolanda Riley looked up from the rose she’d been teasing with a fingertip. Its hungry petals snapped shut on empty air. “Hi, Ross. Need a guard flower? This one’s nice and lively.”
Ross shook his head. “No. I want a present for Jennie. Do you know what she’d like?”
“You picked the right person to ask!” Yolanda looked as delighted as if he was doing her a favor rather than asking for one. “She could always use a good weapon. Or maybe jewelry. She loves that, too. But she can’t wear it in training, so that would be a special occasion thing.”
Giving presents is complicated, Ross thought to the absent Kerry. Something for special occasions made sense for a Christmas present. But he didn’t want to saddle Jennie with a gift she had to be so careful with that she couldn’t have fun wearing it, like the embroidered shirt of Paco’s that Ross had borrowed for the dance, only to spend the night worrying that he’d spill something on it.
That wouldn’t be a problem with a weapon. But he happened to know that Jennie was already getting one from someone else. And while he was sure she’d love it, she’d gone through a lot of bad times recently and they’d all involved fighting. He didn’t want to risk a present that might come with unhappy memories attached.
That brought him back to jewelry. Was it really only for special occasions? Ross said, “I’ve seen her train wearing hair beads. Do those count as jewelry?”
“Oh, absolutely.” Yolanda’s voice rose with enthusiasm. “She loves beads.”
Relief! “Then I’ll get her some.”
“Great! But if you want it to be a surprise…” Yolanda peered around the crowd.
“Jennie’s at the schoolhouse, reviewing lesson plans. Oh, and I want something for Mia, too. She’s working on an anti-raccoon electric fence at the Vardam orchard, and she’ll be there for at least another three hours.” Then, remembering how intent she’d been when he’d left her there, he added, “Or till I drag her home for dinner.”
“I can’t help you with Mia,” Yolanda said with a shrug. “I mean, obviously something mechanical, but I don’t know anything about that stuff. But I can make sure you don’t buy Jennie beads she already has.”
Yolanda jostled her way down Main Street. Ross followed more cautiously. He could stifle his impulse to flee, but he couldn’t stop wanting to. The entire town seemed crammed into the square, talking and laughing, buying, selling or trading, but he and Kerry weren’t the only ones who didn’t seem relaxed. Some conversations had a tense undertone, and now and then he caught the quick arrow of a glare. Though he was used to being the target of a town’s distrust, none of it was aimed at him. Instead, the glares focused on Mr. Horst, the ironmonger, who towered over a knot of people on the far side of the square. Ross hoped he’d stay there, and that the jewelry was somewhere else. He wanted nothing to do with that Changed-hater.
Yolanda led Ross past a booth selling decorated baskets, embroidered bags, and carved boxes. Ross slowed, wondering if Mia might want a box for nails or bolts. Then he spotted a line of booths crammed with fancy food.
Dr. Lee’s girlfriend, Anna-Lucia, was selling jars with contents bright as jewels. Ross bent to read the labels: prickly pear jelly with rosemary, grapefruit marmalade, pomegranate jelly, spiced apple butter, habanero-honey barbecue sauce. It had been more than six months since he’d come to Las Anclas, but he was still impressed by its wealth and variety of food. And though he could now read with ease, his ability to look at writing and know its meaning still felt almost magical.
Yolanda impatiently waved up a gust of wind to ruffle his hair. “Jennie doesn’t want jam. That’s something you’d get for your grandma, not your girlfriend.”
“My girlfriends could get it for me,” Ross said. “I’d like it.”
He let Yolanda lead him away. At least he knew better than to buy other people something he wanted himself. But he still wasn’t sure what to get Mia, who was picky about food and could invent anything she’d need or want. And he’d never seen her wear jewelry, even to a dance.
Ross spotted old Mr. Rodriguez, the retired town mechanic, manning a booth of tools.
“Wait, Yolanda,” he called.
She turned impatiently, then saw the booth. “Oh. That’s Mia stuff, all right.”
Fireplace tongs, household and kitchen implements, gardening tools… and there, hanging from the ceiling, was a revolving tool rack. Mia stored her tools in boxes and on her table, and was constantly hunting for and tripping over them. That rack could hang over her table so she could reach up and grab whatever she needed.
Ross fingered the scrip in his pocket. He’d saved most of the payment he’d gotten from Mr. Preston in exchange for his ancient book. For the first time in his life, Ross could walk into a shop and buy anything in it. He was used to spending only what he absolutely needed to survive, because who knew when he’d be able to get more. But now he had enough scrip to buy a small house. Thinking that he couldn’t afford anything but bare essentials was a habit, nothing more. He wasn’t poor.
That realization should have made him happy, but instead, it unsettled him. It was like everything else that day: the friendly smiles, the abundance, the gifts, having people to buy gifts for. It was good, but so different from his previous life that it felt unreal. As if he might touch something solid, only to feel it dissolve under his hands. And then he’d open his eyes and find himself lying alone in the desert, with Jennie and Mia and his entire life in Las Anclas nothing but an incredibly vivid dream.
Ross wished he hadn’t thought of that. Now he’d probably have a nightmare about it. He laid his palm on the booth wall, rubbing his fingers along the rough cloth over hard wood. Everything was solid and real. “I’d like the tool rack.”
Mr. Rodriguez smiled as he lifted it down. “I think I know who this is for. In fact, I had her in mind when I made it. So, Ross, how are you enjoying the market?”
“I’ve never seen anything like it before,” Ross replied.
Mr. Rodriguez snorted. “It was better in the old days. When the traders sailed in from Catalina, then it was a sight to see.”
An old lady said, “Before Tom Preston kicked them out!”
“Yeah,” a man shouted. “And that’s not all we lost. Remember their plays? I miss those more than the traders.”
Mr. Rodriguez wrapped the tool rack in old newspaper. Ross caught a glimpse of a headline: TENTACLED TOMATO TRESPASSES ON PEACEFUL PUMPKIN PATCH! He bet Jennie had written it. She liked matching letters. And exclamation points.
“That’s why I’m voting for Noah Horst for defense chief.” Mr. Rodriguez gave Ross a weirdly intense stare, as if he was making a speech, not having a conversation. “Regardless of his personal opinions about Changed folk, he’s promised to set those aside and go talk to the folk at Catalina. If he gets elected, the traders and musicians and actors are coming back.”
Then Ross knew the source of the tension beneath the holiday cheer: the upcoming election.
In which he, as a new citizen, had a vote.
It would be his first election—yet another first—but it didn’t seem as meaningful to him as it did to everyone else. Mr. Horst and the current defense chief, Mr. Preston, both hated the Changed. Mr. Horst had threatened Ross, and Mr. Preston had sent the bounty hunter to kill him. Sure, Mr. Horst had declared that he now saw the value of different people living together in harmony, but Ross didn’t believe it. Dr. Lee had remarked over dinner that Mr. Horst would say green was red if he thought it would win him the election.
Ross had asked Mia if he had to vote, and she’d looked so horrified at the idea of having the right but not using it that he’d dropped the subject. But he still didn’t see what difference it made. He didn’t want either of those bigots running things.
An earnest man stuck his head out from a booth selling bright-moths in decorative terrariums. “Safety is more important than fun. As long as Tom Preston’s defense chief, we’ll never see Voske again.”
Mr. Rodriguez pointed dramatically at Ross. “That’s because of this young man here, not Tom Preston.”
Ross reached for his package, hoping to take it and go, but the old mechanic held it tight as he declaimed, “Ross Juarez saved Las Anclas! And he did it with his Change power. If he’d been run out of town like that pair from Catalina and the Changed folk who followed them, this square would be filled with Voske’s soldiers. And instead of holiday banners, it’d have our heads on pikes!”
Ross wished he hadn’t heard that. The harder he tried not to think about it, the more he vividly he recalled staring at the ground in Gold Point, lest an upward glance confront him with a smooth white skull. Desperately, he shoved a handful of scrip at Mr. Rodriguez.
A woman looked up from the hammer she was examining. “You know the rules. No campaigning until a week before the election.”
A chorus of dismissive noises rose up, with Mr. Rodriguez speaking loudest. “We can still talk about it! This isn’t Gold Point!”
“Yeah!”
“That’s right!”
To Ross’s relief, Mr. Rodriguez finally took his scrip and released Mia’s gift. Ross bolted back to Yolanda. Much as he didn’t like touching people he didn’t know well, he grabbed her elbow to hurry her away.
“It’s okay, Ross. No one will get in trouble for early campaigning. It’s a rule, but it’s not a strict one.” Wistfully, Yolanda added, “I wish I was old enough to have a vote.”
Ross wished he could give her his.
Mrs. Callahan’s voice blared out, loud enough to make him jump. “Embroidered silks! Fine ribbons! Party dresses! Everything altered to order!”
Her booth was filled with fancy dresses and coats, shirts and pants, skirts and blouses, even scarves and hats. Especially scarves and hats. It was like Felicité Wolfe had turned into a place.
“Oh, do you mind if I take a quick look?” Yolanda begged.
“Go ahead.” Ross squelched his urge to dodge Mrs. Callahan. Fair was fair. Yolanda had waited for him.
Yolanda rushed in to sort through the ribbons. Behind her back, Mrs. Callahan’s upper lip curled in disgust. Ross wished Yolanda could go somewhere else. She had to know exactly what the dressmaker thought of Changed people, but no one else sold ribbons.
Mrs. Callahan turned her glare on her son, who had been yawning over the coat display. “Henry!”
“Silk embroidery,” Henry announced with the enthusiasm of a seller of week-old fish. Then a much more sincere grin split his face. “Felicité!”
Ross snatched up the nearest skirt and hid behind it, hoping no one would ask him who he wanted it for. It was too small for Jennie, too big for Mia, and a shade of green halfway between mold and vomit.
Felicité minced in, her curls bouncing. The last time Ross had seen Felicité, her hair had been bright red. It was now a rich brown, a shade or two darker than her skin. She flipped up her curls in a dramatic gesture.
Henry caught the hint. “Oh, your hair! It’s so pretty.” He wound a curl around his finger as she leaned over the counter to kiss him.
“I had it dyed the exact shade of Grandmère’s ancient mahogany chiffonier,” said Felicité. “It came from France in the time of my ancestress, Queen Marie Antoinette.”
Yolanda stifled a snicker. Felicité claimed descent from every royal person named in the Las Anclas history textbooks. Ross bet if he prospected a book that mentioned some new queens, she would suddenly remember that she was related to them, too.
“It’s exquisite, dear,” Mrs. Callahan cooed to Felicité. “But then, you always are. You have such impeccable taste. Are you shopping for your parents or your friends?”
“Don’t tell, but I have some of your lovely dresses in mind for my friends. And maybe a greatcoat for Daddy. But not on this trip.” Felicité’s voice set Ross’s teeth on edge. It was so sweet—too sweet. Like a handful of sugar crammed down your throat.
She stooped to pet her golden rat, Wu Zetian. Ross edged another step back. Felicité had used that rat to spy on Jennie and Mia and Yuki, and gotten them thrown in jail for weeks. Though Felicité had denied it, Ross was sure she’d trained Wu Zetian to spy on the entire town. And he wasn’t the only one who’d figured that out. When he’d first come to Las Anclas, everyone had stroked Wu Zetian and tried to coax her into their laps. Now people eyed her suspiciously and stepped out of her way.
Felicité stiffened as Kerry strolled up. The former princess turned a razor-edged smile toward Felicité, then offered a hand to Wu Zetian.
Of course Kerry didn’t care that the rat was a spy. She was used to much worse spy-masters than Felicité.
The golden rat tipped her head, giving Kerry the perfect angle to scratch between her round pink ears.
“Hello, Wu Zetian, you delicate darling.” Kerry spoke in a weirdly sweet voice.
It wasn’t until Ross caught a flash of rage tightening Felicité’s face that he realized that Kerry was imitating Felicité. It was subtle, probably to prevent Felicité from accusing Kerry of mocking her, but clearly deliberate.
Felicité scooped up her rat, then turned her back on Kerry and gave Mrs. Callahan a charming smile. “May I borrow Henry?”
“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Callahan replied pleasantly, but her expression hardened into contempt as her gaze fixed on Kerry. But when Kerry picked up a lace frill, the nastiness wiped off Mrs. Callahan’s face like she’d used a dust rag.
“Come on in!” Mrs. Callahan said with a huge smile.
The dressmaker was only trying to drum up business, but that grin bore an unpleasant resemblance to the fake smiles the Gold Point townspeople plastered on because they feared King Voske’s spying. Felicité’s smile was fake, too, but hers was more convincing; Ross would never have known it wasn’t sincere if he hadn’t happened to be looking at her for the single second she’d let her fury show. His skin crawled.
Felicité set Wu Zetian down out of Kerry’s reach. Then Henry and Felicité marched off, arm in arm, the spy rat following after. A couple people glanced from Wu Zetian to the sky, probably checking for Voske’s spy hawks. Ross couldn’t help glancing upward as well, but his view was blocked by the booth’s cloth ceiling.
When he lowered his gaze, he caught Mrs. Callahan staring at the fingerprint scars on his throat. He ducked his chin, letting his hair fall forward to hide them. Fake smiles, spies, the burn of Luis’s fingers—everything reminded Ross of Gold Point. His heart was pounding and he felt slightly dizzy. Like he was trapped in the hell cell, with the thick granite walls closing in on him. A painful weight compressed his chest. He had to run, get out of the crowd, get somewhere safe under the open sky—
“Hey, Ross.”
He jumped, but it was only Kerry. She pointed to some embroidered blouses. “I want to get one of those for Jennie. What colors does she like?”
Ross forced himself to breathe. To try to relax. He’d come to buy a present for Jennie, and he wasn’t going to run away without one. He wasn’t in Gold Point. He’d flooded the hell cells himself, with Kerry’s help. He was in Las Anclas. He was safe. He was home.
“Bright ones,” Ross said. “Orange, yellow, red.”
“Thanks.” Kerry lowered her voice. “I’ve got another question for you. Should I get a gift for Paco? Brisa said I shouldn’t because he won’t get one for me, and then it’ll be awkward. Becky said it’ll hurt his feelings if I don’t, since he’s my brother. Meredith said I could try but he’d probably throw it in my face. What do you think?”
“I don’t know Paco that well.” Ross thought of suggesting that she ask Jennie, who knew Paco as well as anyone now that his mother Sera was dead and his boyfriend Yuki had left. But Jennie was the last person Kerry would want to ask about anything.
Kerry’s sharp eyes narrowed, but to his relief, she only said, “You go diving with him, and I wanted to ask another guy.”
“Okay.” When they dove in Yuki’s sea cave, Paco seemed calm and friendly. He never mentioned Kerry, but if he saw her, he’d go silent and grim. And if she didn’t leave, he would. “Don’t give him anything. I think Meredith was joking, but I don’t think he’d like it, either. And he definitely won’t be hurt if you don’t.”
For a disquieting moment, the grimness that tightened Kerry’s sharp features made her look just like Paco. Just like Voske. Tension gripped Ross’s neck.
Then she gave a brisk nod and lifted a scarlet blouse with embroidered golden starbursts. “Thanks. Would Jennie like this?”
The tension eased. “She’d love it. She’s beautiful in red and gold. And she likes embroidery.” Ross added, “Mia likes pink. And ruffles. Lots of ruffles.”
Kerry gave him a thin, secretive smile. He knew Kerry liked secrets. “I’ve got something else in mind for Mia.”