“Sally port,” he explains. “It holds us while the laser scanners approve us to enter.”
“Approve us?” I ask. My eyes sweep the small space, looking for the technology that is analyzing us as a green beam of light sweeps down my body.
“Don’t worry,” he assures us, before adding, “unless you’re on a Sunrunner ‘Wanted’ list.”
I bite my lip, not wanting to say that being on a wanted list is a definite possibility. Concrete walls. Laser scanners. This is a place built to keep attackers out. It’s a lot of security clearance, but I guess when you’re running a dangerous operation like solar trafficking, it’s necessary, especially if there are creatures roaming the streets after hours.
The hall on the other side of the holding area is surprisingly warm. Long solar torches hang overhead, and the walls are lacquered in a deep gray. A few broad leather chairs rest in an alcove, but Dante passes them and we follow quickly behind. We enter a lounge area with overstuffed sofas and gleaming walnut tables. On the far wall, a carved mantel arches elegantly toward the ceiling and a fire licks in a cavernous hearth. Small solar lamps with green glass shades light the windowless room.
“I’m famished,” Dante announces. “I’ll have the cook scrounge something together. No promises that it will be edible though.” He gives a sweeping bow followed by a wink as he exits the room. I still don’t know what to make of him.
Considering the canned goods we’ve survived on during the last week, I’m guessing the Sunrunners’ cuisine will be an improvement. One of the perks of controlling the Icebox’s light supply is bound to be better food. Jost and I wander to the fire and settle on the brick hearth to warm ourselves. I’m getting used to the daily chill of Earth, but it’s nice to feel heat on my skin.
Jost doesn’t break the silence; instead he pulls me into his arms and I dissolve against him. In the heat of the fire, I don’t need his warmth, but I long for it. I bury my face under his chin and inhale his scent. He pulls back ever so slightly, but only to bring his lips to mine. I don’t expect it, but I welcome it after the awkwardness between us.
The kiss is slow. On Earth there’s no need to rush. No risk of being caught by the Guild. Realizing that pushes everything else out of my mind, and I focus on the crush of his lips, parting my own to deepen the kiss. He responds by drawing me closer, his hands firmly on my waist.
I push into him and let my own hands drop slowly down his shoulders across his chest, trailing along the waistband of his pants until I bring them to rest on his back. My fingertips are numb as usual but touching Jost sends shivers up my arms. They come to rest deep in my core until every part of me aches. He ends the kiss first, but neither of us breaks from the embrace. Instead his lips linger at my ear.
I want to lock the moment in place and erase the outside world.
Forget my past.
Ignore my future.
Lose myself in him.
But even I don’t have that much time.
When Dante reenters the room, we break apart as he hesitates. I can see him questioning if he should leave us alone, so I motion for him to join us.
“Cook’s on it,” he says. “Now back to Greta.”
He’s not giving up on what happened at the shop, and I don’t blame him. Her frantic accusations have been bouncing around in my head since we left there. They didn’t mean anything to me, but it’s possible they’ll mean something to Dante. There was a time when I would have guarded the hourglass techprint my father placed on me the night the Guild came to retrieve me because I thought it was a secret code between him and me. A simple reminder to me of who I was. But Greta’s reaction to it rattled me even more than the girl’s recognition of it on the night we arrived here. Do I know who I am? My parents’ actions that night had raised more and more questions in my time at the Coventry. How much had they known? Where were we going? I’d learned nothing is as it seems in Arras. Not even a simple techprint, it turns out.
So I hold out my wrist and show it to Dante. He takes a step forward to examine my offering and shock flits across his face, quickly replaced by a mask of calm. If I hadn’t been watching him, I would have missed it entirely.
“That explains it,” he says, his voice so low it sends goose bumps popping across my flesh.
“It means something to you then?” Jost asks.
“You don’t know what this is?” Dante asks.
“No,” I admit. Part of me wants to tell him the whole story. That we’re refugees from Arras, about my parents and the tunnels under our house, that we’re running from the Guild. But I keep quiet, waiting to see how he responds, wondering exactly what I’ve revealed to him about myself.
“It’s the sign of Kairos,” he tells us. “It seems I haven’t been very polite. Welcome to Earth.”
FIVE
SOMEONE HAS LAID OUT A FEAST ON a polished black table. The setting is utilitarian. No time wasted on decorations or fancy utensils, but the food is another story. The first course is a salty soup with chunks of white fish and leeks simmered slowly so they melt on my tongue. The soup scorches my throat, and I savor how it floods and stings my mouth, coming to rest hot in my belly. Next a crisp salad smothered in heavy dressing and bits of buttery toast. And then meat. I never knew how much I could miss meat until it sits in front of me. My portion is very small. The large cuts are given to the men, so I cut mine up into tiny bites, watching the red juice seep from my incisions and chewing each bite for minutes.
This is what Dante calls scrounging something up.
There was a time when I would have pushed my plate away, too anxious to eat, but even though I need answers as to what’s happening around me, I’m not passing up a meal after a week with so little food.
“Tell me more about Sunrunning,” I say. “I think I’m interested in joining up.”
“You’re an easy sale,” Dante says.
“The way to my heart is through my stomach,” I admit.
Jost eats slowly beside me, not saying much. He looks even more thoughtful now that our secret is out and Dante knows we’re refugees, but for me, it feels as though a boulder has been lifted from my chest. Dante hasn’t said anything more about the techprint, although I’m sure we’ll get back to it. It’s probably hard to discuss something serious with someone who’s stuffing her face.
“One of the perks of the job is food, obviously. We take a quota of goods from the various hydroponic farms in the area and we trade meat and fish with the hunters. There are a few farms on the outskirts of the Interface, but it’s a rough business keeping livestock there. Meat’s fallen from favor in most of the Icebox since it’s so hard to get. Although there’s still some canned meat about,” he says.
“Lucky for us,” Jost says, but his face is dark.
“It’s a dangerous job. Most of the area outside of the Icebox is uninhabitable.”
“Uninhabitable?” I ask.
“From the mining operations and the bombings during the war.”
Loricel had told me another story about Earth. She had assumed the people left on Earth annihilated one another. It seems they only succeeded in destroying most of the planet.
“I’m talented,” I say, although I’m not actually interested in the occupation. I’m looking for information.
Dante hesitates, running his hand over his short hair. He drops it down and pushes his empty plate away. “You lack certain necessary qualities.”
“How would you know that?” I demand.
“Because you’re a girl.”
“A girl?” I repeat.
Beside me Jost trembles with held-back laughter, and I smack his shoulder.
“You don’t want to underestimate this girl,” he warns Dante.
“I’ve been gathering that much,” Dante says. “It’s more of a policy. Kincaid, my boss, only employs men. Very particular kinds of men.”
It’s implicit in his words that Jost doesn’t qualify, which begs the question of why we are still here. Dante gains nothing from helping us. We have no value in his line of work.
“Kincaid only has interest in women for one reason, and something tells me you, Adelice, might object to the position,” Dante adds. “Trust me, you wouldn’t want to get tangled up in Kincaid’s business. It’s better if you steer clear of him.”
“So you capture sunlight from outside the Interface and sell it as power,” I say, changing the topic before Jost gets upset. If Dante is still talking, I might as well keep him at it.
“We have containment units that turn it into a form of electricity, and then we ration it out to shops and homes.”
Or the highest bidder, I think. “Is that why there is a curfew?”
“Yes,” he says. “We couldn’t supply enough energy to keep the Icebox lit at all times. Here in the Icebox, we’re close enough to the border of the Interface that the city has longer daylight hours. It’s easier for us to replenish the solar panels on the city’s power grid.”
“Is that why you chose this place?” I ask.
“That,” Dante says, “and because Kincaid liked San Simeon. He claims it’s because the mountains near his estate prevent Guild interference.”
“But you don’t think that’s it?” I guess.
“When you see his estate, you’ll understand what I mean.”
“So the people are left in darkness because Kincaid wanted an estate,” I remark.
“They have candles. Many ration their supply for private use after hours, but the streets are dark,” he says. “It’s not possible to set up a community outside the cover of the Interface. There’re too many Guild mining operations. We do the best we can.”
“We’ve heard rumors of predators that roam after hours,” Jost tells him.
“An unfortunate side effect of turning off the lights. It’s why the curfew is necessary.”
“But no one is around to enforce the curfew,” I point out.
“The curfew isn’t enforced so much as understood. If you’re out after hours, the Rems could get you. Most don’t chance it. There’s always a suicidal few though. Rems like the darkness,” Dante says.
“Rems?” Jost asks. We’ve heard the term before but we’re no closer to understanding it now.
“Remnants—nasty lot,” Dante says.
“Why do they take people?”
“Food mostly.”
I’m suddenly glad my own meal is gone and that I haven’t asked for seconds.
“Food?” Jost echoes, not quite following him.
“I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s not a lot to go around. They don’t discriminate when they hunt and the livestock we do keep is heavily guarded. Wild animals don’t make it out of the mining zones. Who knows what the Guild does with them. Anyway, you can cook a human, too,” Dante says with a wicked grin, and the contents of my stomach churn a little.
“So they’re cannibals?” I don’t bother hiding my disgust.
“They don’t have the same moral code we do.” He shrugs. “They don’t have souls.”
“I guess not,” Jost mutters, setting his fork down.
“No, literally, they have no souls,” Dante clarifies. “The Guild sends them here, and they’re different from us. They’re smart, capable. They keep to packs. But they’ve been hollowed out, stripped of what makes you and me human.”
Jost’s face pales, and I know what he’s thinking. Rozenn, his wife, who the Guild ripped from the docks of his hometown—has she met a similar fate? I’ve been haunted by the violent death of my father at the barrel of a Guild gun during our escape attempt, but knowing what would have happened if he’d been caught changes things. Although nothing can erase from my mind the image of blood seeping from a black body bag. My mother could have been turned into a Rem, but she was terminated, according to Cormac. Amie, my sister, was safely rewoven to another family. It eases some of the guilt that’s weighed me down since we got here to know that my family was spared from the worst. But how long will Amie be safe?
“Don’t worry, Rems don’t make it long around here,” Dante tells us, responding to Jost’s expression. “The conditions are too uncontrollable, the food too scarce, and sooner or later, the packs turn on each other.”
I remember the storage units housed at the Coventry. I stumbled onto them while searching for information on Amie. Thin strands in crystal boxes. Personal identifying sequences marked ACTIVE. Something clicks into place, leaving a sickening realization in my mind. When I’d ripped people in Arras, their remains had been sent away, and yet I’d known the first time I saw those strands in the depository that they couldn’t possibly be people’s remains. The strands were what was left of them after the Guild had created these monsters. Their souls.
“Why though?” I ask. “Why would the Guild send them here?”
“How do you wage a war without an army? Do you think Guild officials would willingly volunteer? And they can’t send citizens without revealing that Earth exists,” Dante says in an even tone, but there is a fervor simmering below the surface of his words. “The area under the Interface is totally controlled by Kincaid, but that doesn’t mean the Guild is willing to let it go.”
War. The inhabitants of the Icebox struggle enough day to day, barely surviving in the conditions caused by the Interface blocking the sun. The Remnants can’t merely be to keep them out of the mines, and somehow I know everything is related to the paper we took from Greta’s shop. It all comes back to the looms.
“If Kincaid controls the Icebox—” I begin.
“He controls all the territory under the Interface,” Dante corrects.
“Okay,” I say, “but outside the Interface?”
“That’s Guild territory,” Dante says. “Their mines occupy a large portion of the uncovered area on Earth.”
“But how do you collect the solar energy then?” Jost asks.
“Kincaid doesn’t care much about Guild boundaries, but it makes Sunrunning dangerous. If you get caught, you don’t come back.”
“How do you manage it?” I ask.
Dante leans in and grins. “I don’t get caught.”
Neither side respects the other’s territory. That much is clear. Sunrunners might be dangerous, but they’re also the only people with the courage to stand up to the Guild.