Love and Decay, Kane's Law by Rachel Higginson

practically intoxicating. I just… I just couldn’t get
enough. And even while she’d pushed my father further away, she’d
done nothing but captivate every part of me.
    I’d also seen her relax some.
    My dad had helped with that when he asked,
“So, Reagan, what do you think of our little community?” I’d held
my breath waiting for her answer, but it hadn’t come. My father
prompted her by saying, “It can be overwhelming at first, I realize
this. Especially since you’ve been by yourself for so long.”
    Her body had stiffened in that angry way of
hers and she’d shot back with, “I haven’t been by myself. I’m by
myself right now, while you keep my friends locked up at gun
point.” And then she flinched forward when I assumed my sister
kicked her under the table. I’d been at the receiving end of that
pointed toe a time or two before.
    I couldn’t always count on Tyler, but she
tended to come through when I needed her most.
    Tyler spoke up then, saving us all from
whatever else Reagan wanted to complain about. “Speaking of, I
better get them dinner.”
    Reagan seemed to relax at those words and I
felt my hatred for those bastards renewed. What she really needed
to do was forget them completely.
    In time , I promised myself.
    After Tyler had flounced off, my father went
back to pushing Reagan. I didn’t understand his game plan, but my
respect for her was surpassed into something like awed
fascination.
    “Kane says you don’t approve of our wall
decorations.” Matthias regarded her over the dinner table and
waited patiently for her to walk into his verbal trap. She wasn’t
the first person to have issue with my father’s ostentation, but
unlike all the times before, I was very anxious to see how she
would answer.
    “They should be shot,” she said simply but
firmly. “They’re disgusting reminders of the peril we’re in; it’s
cruel and dangerous for you and your people.”
    “My people know better than to get near them.
A small child would know better than to get near them. And what is
so cruel about their treatment? Their minds and souls have
vanished. The only thing they are capable of living for is their
addiction to human flesh. Even in their wasted states where they
can’t hold their own body weight up without the help of those steel
bars, sill they reach and hunger for flesh. It has consumed them
until they are less than human, less than even animal, until they
are a species of terrifying creatures all their own.”
    She didn’t miss a beat, “So put them out of
their misery! They were once humans. They were once someone’s
father or mother, son or daughter. They were brothers and sisters
and neighbors and bosses and employees. They had purpose in life,
they had happiness and love. You are degrading them and decimating
their memory! And their mind might be dead, but what about their
soul? Their hearts still beat, their blood still pumps. How can you
judge someone’s soul when they are technically still alive?”
    Her speech met silence. She’d stunned my
father. And my mother’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears.
    I realized then why my father felt hesitant
to accept her. She could be his opposite.
    Easily.
    My father’s success had been partly born from
in instinctive ability to survive and help others survive. But the
other part, the part that had spread the word about The Colony and
drawn outsiders in, was his unquestionable charisma. Sure, if you
were on the wrong side of his good will, you suffered at his hand.
But generally speaking, he could pull in any audience and spin
words and tales until they were emptying their pockets in the name
of a greater good that he gave to them. He was incredibly talented
at collecting followers.
    And Reagan had that same spark. She spoke
with true conviction that demanded a response. She felt compassion
in ways that no one else would ever consider. And she forced you to
believe with her, to take her words and adapt them as your