Escott walked into the lake and sank. He couldn’t swim; never learned; never wanted to learn; couldn’t stand the feel of water in excess as it was a thing of loathing for most imps. And as he stood there, his heavy body plummeting like a rock, he started to swallow water.

He swallowed more, taking it into his second stomach and then the main one until he couldn’t anymore.

Each time he closed his eyes he saw Lander’s head rip off his body. A second later came with Gwen’s smile. And then Lander’s and then all that blood all over again.

The world went black, the world went white, the world could fucking burn for all he cared. Smile, smile, crack. The feeling of satisfaction with that final blow didn’t compare to the sense of loss that followed. He regretted it. The second he made that hit, he regretted it.

Lander was like a brother...a dumb little brother who never meant anyone any harm. But then Gwen’s smile came to Escott and he felt cheated twice. Where was he to save her? What was he doing when she was being forgotten and then dying? Taking care of some people who weren’t his business—weren’t his responsibility?

He decided to take one more gulp of water. The next image was that of his father—the crushed look on his face. And then Eza. And then his brothers and sisters who looked up to Lander as one of their own. Burying one of them was hard, burying two.... Escott wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that to them.

With that, he turned and marched out of that fucking lake, his gut heavy from the water.

Arma greeted him with a sigh of relief. “My maker be damned, what were you thinking?”

Escott opened his mouth to answer but no less than three liters of lake water spilled out of him. He had to call up his second stomach, too, which unfortunately had some food a week old.

Heave after heave made him feel as if he’d break in two, and then there was nothing left. He half wished he’d stayed in there so he wouldn’t have to feel as if he was rotting from within.

People had seen. Escott never lost his temper, and people had seen. When he lumbered up to the hill to see the crowd of Newbreeds by his new, useless house, he stared on. They came to wish him well, maybe. But he hated them. Their families were whole. And thanks to Escott’s own blood, no one was even lost when Karen poisoned them.

Escott was the oldest of sixteen children...now fifteen, and it still felt as if they were all gone, and he was alone.

No less than twenty-four families and their kids waited at his place—and yet...he was all alone.

From here he could make out the lights from Blackwell’s mansion. Thoughts of Tine were the worst. Escott hadn’t always looked up to his own father. A time or two he’d thought Lander had lucked out by having someone so patient and well-mannered. Tine never took payment for the unfavorable jobs he did that nobody else wanted to do. Partly he did them as a way to belong to the group but even more so, he did them as a way to pay everyone back for anything wrong Lander had done at the time. Be it accept an invitation and refusing to leave well after it was over because he didn’t want to go home, or something he’d broken or fucked up.

Tine had nothing but his son. Even his woman wouldn’t acknowledge him in public. He had nothing.... He only had his son, and his dumb piece of shit son was now gone. It was more than obviously an accident. Would it have been so bad to let Lander deal with the shame and the guilt forever instead of...?

Escott leaned over and made another heave but to no avail.

Screams broke out from the house. Escott was slow to rise to see what might have caused it. Newbreed mothers panicked, dragging their grown children out of the house. Arma’s lot soon came storming out, too.

Arma asked, “What is going on?”

“I don’t know.” Escott headed across the field. “But I hope it’s deadly and I might luck out with an accident.”

He barreled up the pathway in time to catch something that darted out of the house. It was a...a toddler, a small one with long arms and a cleft in his chin that was too wide.

“What in the...?”

“Don’t let it bite you, Essy. Don’t let it bite you,” a woman screamed. “There’s another one.”

Escott caught that one, too. He had a total of three, almost identical save for size. Two he had to hold at the throat which wasn’t hard, but the third one lost power as soon as he was caught.

They looked familiar.

“The creatures from under Blackwell’s house,” Arma observed.

“Yeah,” Escott agreed. “But what’s it doing up here?”

“I suppose...we disturbed their nest?” Arma asked.

Escott debated what to do with them.

A Newbreed rushed out, her arm swollen to twice its normal size. “One got me. One got me.”

Escott froze. She was maybe sixteen—about the same as Gwen. Sick with himself, Escott willed his feet not to run away. And then he understood it. In this very moment...he understood Lilah and the decision she made to break up with him and leave him on his deathbed. But everyone was looking at him as if asking for direction—he couldn’t run. But he wanted to.

Arma eased him aside. “Let me look at it.” She crouched down before the tearful teen and took hold of the ripe bruise. “If it’s venom, I can get it. Please wait. It might burn.”

The scream that came out of the Newbreed’s mouth said more than might burn. When the wound went down, though, Escott sighed with relief.

Blackened left hand extended, Arma snapped her fingers and a greenish orb formed. She held it up for inspection. “That is rancid.”

The girl’s mother rushed her, checking her over from head to toe. Escott couldn’t blame them.

Alarms and bells sounded. He almost reached for his badge but remembered his choice. He surveyed the crowd of Newbreeds who seemed to share his reaction of automatically getting into battle mode.

“These critters are fast. Should we go help, Essy?” someone asked.

But one glance at some of the mothers said what Escott was compelled to.

“We can’t risk anybody else getting bitten. Let the enforcers worry about it themselves.” He looked to where the farm and the city met. “For now...I think we’re going to need a fence.”

Arma and a few others protested. Some even went beyond the border and into the city to inform the enforcers, but Escott found the first manhole he could and dumped the three creatures down into it. They landed on their feet and played with one another before skittering away. Sure enough, they followed the path with the many strings; they were probably going back to their mother.

Escott thought to go down there but each attempt he made only filled him with dread. He didn’t want anything to do with the city or those in it.

It wasn’t easy to find sleep, but Escott forced himself to, sitting outside under a tree. He reasoned that he’d watch out for any more of those strange creatures, but that wasn’t it; he didn’t want to close his eyes and see Lander’s death again and again.

Arma’s lot rose early. Escott worried they would complain about the farm or even the food—there weren’t many sweets. The children loved it. They chased one another around for some time. Most of Escott’s siblings came around, too, which wasn’t common. He welcomed it. Being able to see their faces made him feel better. Strangely enough, he longed to see the Chief and Eza but dared not say it for fear they’d chide him or worry.

It took only a day for him to hear enough faint whispers to realize not everyone approved of his behavior.

“And poor Tine. He never hurt a soul. The way he attacked him,” someone whispered.

“I’m just glad Karen finally defended him.”

“I was shocked, too. Figured she’d be glad to be rid of him.”

“You’re all stupid. Of course, she got in over her head with that cutthroat Blackwell. Good riddance. Not sure how she’ll handle his debts now.”

“I hope that’s not why she kept Tine around.”

“Such nonsense,” an older woman interjected, finally. “Karen is foolish. I think until yesterday, she honestly believed she could carry on like this forever.”

Another mother whispered, “And oh those cuts must have hurt. I’m not sure I could even take one much less two and you all know how much I adore my Arthur.”

Many choruses of agreement left Escott feeling hollow. Still, when he passed around the back of the house to where they sat shelling peas, the women quieted. There were thoughtful offers for drinks and several how are you doing, Essy? all around.

He didn’t blame them for feeling as they felt; he tried to make sense of it. He had to soon; Gwen’s burial wouldn’t be long off.

It came two days later—the first time his parents stood in the same room together since her death.

Arma’s lot didn’t have much in the way of clothes, but they washed and looked presentable. Escott didn’t rise from his chair despite his nice suit. He didn’t want to go. He wasn’t going to go. And the longer he sat there, the less energy he had to attend.

Instead, he lumbered out to the newly started wall, and went to work putting the crude cement and stones down. He didn’t know what to make of Arma when she came out and instructed her lot to help him.

The entire town went to that funeral it seemed. And not just Newbreeds—the mayor went, too.

Escott strode to the highest hill to watch it all. It lasted long. He couldn’t make out where Gwen was put to rest, nor did he want to. Still, Arma worked into the night with him, and sure enough, the mothers came back to help feed the children and put them to bed.

It was only when they worked alone that Escott realized something about Arma—she wasn’t suited for hard labor. She was fast, and from what he’d seen in the fights, she could more than hold her own, but the tedium of the stone fence took its toll.

She hated it.

He wasn’t sure he was right, but they ate in silence and she went to her room—the smallest one in the house. After a few minutes alone, Escott followed and raised his hand to knock on the door.

Heavy breathing came through the cracks. He wasn’t sure what to make of it so he knocked.

The noise paused. “Yes?”

“You decent?”

“Yes.” Her ragged breaths came and went yet again.

Escott entered the room to find her doing pushups. She did a good twenty before pausing to look up at him.

“Yes?”

He opened his mouth to say something but eventually closed it and the door as well. She hated it; she hated the farm.

As he walked the short hallway to the boys’ room, he peered in. Some slept on the floor, though the bunk beds were still unfinished. It didn’t really matter if she hated it, for her lot, she’d stay; and that was enough.

A week later Escott awoke to find Arma busy at the wall. The areas she built looked unsteady and poor. Today, too, he’d have to go back and redo them.

When she threw the tool down and cursed, he felt thrust aside, too. She hated it—she hated the farm. He tried to make sense of it. The children moved like a well-versed unit. One even slung the baby on his back as he worked. Throughout the day several boys traded, taking turns in caring for him.

Even Maxi, the small crybaby went about his chores with a satisfied smile. They knew farming, maybe better than Escott and his Newbreeds. And they didn’t mind the work, so Escott started to wonder...what happened to Arma. She said she was a farmer, too. How could she be dissatisfied?

That answer came an hour later as they shared breakfast with one another. Escott brought his feet up to find purchase on the wall as he tilted his head back and swallowed a portion of his food down without chewing—it was the only way he could eat it lately. The kids went through all that trouble making it, he wanted to eat.

“My spot here’s humble. Maybe it doesn’t have as much stuff as you’re used to, but you don’t seem to like it here.”

Arma matched his posture, her elbows on her knees. “It’s not that I don’t like it...it’s that I...I’m not meant for it.”

She gestured out at the small crowd of children who gathered around one another chatting. They were assigning chores again. They rotated almost daily.

“They work the land,” Arma said. “There’s one boy with a five-year lead who overseas it. I didn’t have one old enough, so Mouse became my overseer; only girl one in my area, Sasha was another overseer from a neighboring lot. They got sweet on each other and when we ran, Mouse begged him to run, too. Sash came with the four he could. And here we are.”

Escott hesitated. “So you don’t work the land, too?”

“No.” She scoffed. “No Areal Manager does that. We tend to the guns and protect our lot. One of us is enough to care for ten and we lived in a rather dangerous area. We manned the cannons and stop other clans from stealing our livest....” She paused and corrected herself. “Stealing our lot.”

Slave traders. Escott had heard things in passing—rumors about Topsiders and their strange laws.

“So you just made sure your lot worked?”

Arma considered it and nodded. “My lot...they aren’t mine.” Their eyes met. “The Elemental that made me, she needed more help with watching our home. So she cut her hair and fashioned me, and I came to be.”

“Made you?” Escott wanted details but this wasn’t the time.

Maybe she sensed it but when she cut him a glance, she said, “I can’t say livestock, because Mouse taught me that’s not true. When I came to be, I did everything asked of me without question. When I was told to exact punishment by breaking a limb of someone unruly, I did. But Mouse taught me—she taught me what my people did.”

Slavery was the worst, but Escott hadn’t counted on what Arma said next.

“They ate them.”

“Beg...beg your pardon?” he stuttered.

Arma took great interest in the bread in her hand. “My lot...once they were old enough, they’d...they’d travel to the main city where my mistress—who made me—would auction them as food.

Escott thought to eat the remainder of his meal but paused when the previous portion threatened to come back up. Did Arma’s people actually eat humans? It was rumored that Topside was ruled by corrupted Elementals of old, but nothing ever mentioned that.

“They weren’t always that way,” Arma admitted. “But somewhere in the time that lapse since the Elemental uprising, people became...strange. When the time came to sell one of my lot, Mouse refused. She got angry, so my mistress punished her boldness—she allowed Mouse to stay but resolved to sell the entire lot—even the baby. I was ordered to injure them all. For refusing, I...was punished as well.” She rubbed her smooth head with a miserable frown. “But that was also to ensure I wouldn’t cause my mistress any more trouble. I tell myself this but deep down, I know, she removed all of my hair for vanity’s sake.”

And they’d escaped. An Elemental with little to no power, and she escaped. Escott had to face facts: this farm was no place for an enforcer of any kind. Leaving it only to come back wasn’t so bad but leaving enforcing to farm...this...this was something else...this was coming from action into the quiet. Of course, she hated it. She was a fighter, not a farmer.

“I want to give you your freedom from us—from me,” she said at length. “If you’d let my lot stay, I...I can pay rent and they won’t be in your way. I’d rent space from you.”

No doubt using money from fights to make those payments.

“We can’t get divorced yet; you won’t be able to stay if we do.”

“Nobody needs know,” Arma said. “This was a mistake. It was wrong to marry for this reason. So let’s make it right and you can get some space.”

Feeling numb, Escott clammed up. He tried to sum up his mixed feelings. She wanted her freedom—and who could blame her after his attack on Lander?

Rather than fight this, Escott downed his meal and muttered agreement to giving up. “I’ll go down there today and explain it. And then they can annul it.”

“And you can find companionship.”

Maybe...but that wasn’t something Escott cared about at this moment. So he ignored her words, and when she stared at him confused and said clearly, “Can we do it today?” he went about tearing down and rebuilding the wall instead of answering.