Black City (22 page)

“Ash is my best friend and a decent guy. He’s not a bad influence,” he says.

Day sniffs haughtily. “Really? He got you addicted to Haze.”

“No, he didn’t.” He looks up at Day with shame-filled eyes. “Linus got me hooked on Haze. Ash has spent the past year trying to wean me off it. That’s what we were doing in the prop room. He was
helping
me.”

Day inhales sharply, then looks at me, her brow furrowed.

“I think you owe Ash an apology,” Natalie says to Day.

Day’s mouth tightens. She’ll never say sorry to me.

“Forget about it,” I mumble.

Day swishes her ebony hair over her shoulder and strides away.

“She really should’ve said sorry,” Natalie says as I help gather the books and pencils that fell out of her satchel.

A shadow falls over us. Sebastian is silhouetted against the stormy sky, flakes of snow melting in his blond hair.

“Get away from her, nipper,” he says.

I stand up, my heart pounding. Sebastian notices the chunks of snow on my clothes, the dusting of white powder on Natalie’s.

“He was helping me pick up my books, Sebastian,” Natalie says quickly. “Someone hit me with a snowball, and I fell over. It was so silly.”

It’s clear he’s trying to decide if he believes her or not. Thankfully, he bends down and starts picking up the remainder of her schoolbooks.

And that’s when I see it.

A piece of torn paper fluttering on the snow beside Sebastian’s foot.

My heart jackhammers against my chest. Cold sweat breaks out on my brow. Natalie looks alarmed; she’s seen it too.
Don’t let him notice it, don’t let him notice it, don’t let him notice it.
Sebastian shoves all the books back into Natalie’s satchel and hands it to her. I exhale.

“Thanks,” she says.

“Let’s go,” he orders.

He moves his foot, and that’s when he sees the scrap of paper by his boot.

The world stops.

Sebastian picks up the note, quickly scanning it.

I swallow.

Natalie’s hands are drawn into tight fists, trying to stop them from shaking.

He looks slowly up at her, his green eyes burning.
“I can’t stop thinking about you?”

Oh, fragg.

She licks her lips, and I know she doesn’t mean to, but she gives me a fleeting look. Sebastian turns and studies me. His fist clenches around the note.

“It’s from this boy, Chris Thompson,” Natalie says. “He asked me out, I said no, but he keeps sending me messages. It’s embarrassing.”

Sebastian holds my gaze for a beat too long. I can’t breathe.

“Sebastian, we really should go. It’s getting dark,” Natalie says.

He throws the note back in the snow and roughly takes Natalie’s arm. They walk through the town square. I start breathing again the instant they’re gone.

* * *

The sky fades to white as a blizzard rolls across the city, making the buildings look like snowcapped mountains. I trudge toward Chris’s house, my stomach grumbling, hoping he’s still in need of a Haze fix after I blew off yesterday’s appointment. I need some Synth-O-Blood; I haven’t eaten in ages. At the back of my mind, it registers that he wasn’t at school today. Neither was Gregory, which is odd—Gregory would never miss a day of school. Maybe they’re both sick? I hope not; at least not Chris.

My heart’s still pounding a mile a minute after my run-in with Sebastian. I think Natalie managed to convince him with her cover story. I can’t believe what a close call that was. We’ve only been together for a few hours, and already we’ve nearly been caught.

I walk down City End, following my usual path along the Boundary Wall. The Darkling guards peer down at me with judgmental eyes, and I swear they’re whispering at me as I pass by—
traitor, turncoat, collaborator
—but they can’t possibly know I’m dating Natalie. It must be in my head. Even so, I quicken my pace, eager to get away from them.

I cross through the security gates leading into the Chimney, the factory district, and find Chris and Gregory’s house amid the bustling refineries and warehouses spewing clouds of choking smoke and toxins into the air. High above the twisting spires of the factories are giant screens, which play the same grainy film footage of Purian Rose on a loop. He smiles benevolently down at us, saying a bunch of stupid slogans like “work sets you free” or “love work, love your country.” I make a rude gesture at the screens as I pass.

The hairs on the back of my neck suddenly prickle. Someone’s watching me. I stop walking and scan the buildings. There’s nothing there. I must be a little jumpy from the run-in with Sebastian.

I knock on the green door of the Thompson twins’ house. There’s a long pause before footsteps shuffle toward the door. A middle-aged woman answers, her brown hair tangled around her freckled face. Her eyes are red and moist.

“Can I help you?” she says, her voice cracking with emotion.

“I was wondering if Chris—”

The woman’s eyes widen when she registers what I am. “Mark!”

“What is it, Anne?” The door swings open, and a tough-looking man glares down at me.

Just be calm.
I clear my throat. “Sorry to bother you—”

The man grabs my shirt. “What did you do to my son?”

“Get off me!” I reply, struggling free from the man’s grip. It was a mistake to come here. What was I thinking?

“Who is it, Dad?” Gregory says, rushing to the door.

He stops dead when he sees me. A look of burning hatred crosses his narrow, pinched face.

“You killed my brother!” he screams, rushing toward me.

“I didn’t!” I say, confused and suddenly terrified.
Chris is dead?

Gregory picks up a loose brick from the low wall running down the length of the path. I back away, but my feet slip in the slushy snow, and I crash to the ground. Gregory’s on top of me in seconds.

“I’ll kill you for what you did!” he yells, lifting the brick over his head.

“I’m calling the Sentry guard!” Gregory’s mom darts back into the house.

“You’ve made a mistake,” I say.

Gregory smashes the brick against my temple, and red spots explode before my eyes. Then the world turns black.

19

ASH

I WAKE UP
to a blinding light.
Is this paradise?
My dad always described his vision of heaven as a bright white light. No. My kind don’t go to that place, we go to the Elsewhere. Darts of pain shoot through my skull where I’ve been hit.
Definitely not in paradise.
I blink twice and try to adjust my eyes. At first I think I’m outside, the light is so piercing. Then things begin to come into focus: a door, UV strip lights, polished metal walls.

I howl as another white-hot pain strikes me, like a thousand hands ripping me apart. My body has been stripped naked, and it’s red raw and blistered where the UV rays from the lights overhead have scorched my skin.

I try to move and realize I can’t; my left foot is bound to the wall by a heavy silver chain.
Oh fragg, oh fragg, oh fragg . . .
I yank on the chain, which sizzles into my palms and ankle, but it doesn’t budge an inch.

The metal door clanks open, and Natalie’s mom, the Emissary, appears at the threshold. Her pale hands are clasped in front of her sickeningly thin body, her breastbone clearly visible beneath her stretched skin. There’s nothing of Natalie’s warmth and softness about her; there’s no resemblance at all, except the cornflower blue of her eyes. In the corridor behind her, Martha—the Darkling housemaid I rescued at the market—is mopping a stain off the floor. A worried look flits across her face when she sees me. The Emissary impatiently shoos her away.

Emissary Buchanan enters my cell, and the guards shut the door. She holds a sachet of Synth-O-Blood in one hand, while the other is closed around a small object I can’t see.

“I didn’t kill Chris,” I say through cracked lips. “I didn’t even know he was dead.”

She contemplates me for a long moment, then opens her hand to show a two of hearts playing card. My calling card! I’d given it to Chris earlier this week.

“Does this look familiar to you?” she says.

“You can’t keep me here. I have rights.”

“You don’t have any rights, twin-blood. You’re not
human.
”

I pull against my restraints, a low growl escaping my lips.

She steps back warily. “I recommend you control yourself.”

“I didn’t kill Chris,” I say again, desperation creeping into my voice.

“Chris Thompson died of a Haze overdose. You’re the only twin-blood registered in the city, and he had your playing card, which I’ve been informed you give to your ‘clients.’ That’s all the evidence we need.”

A cannonball drops in my stomach. I can’t believe this is happening! I’m going to get executed for a crime I didn’t even commit.

“Just confess to the crime, and this will all be over,” she says icily.

“I didn’t do it!”

She makes a signal with her hand, and a second later the UV lights turn up to full power. I howl again as my skin explodes with pain. She waves a hand, and the lights lower. I curl up into a ball, my body shaking. I urgently need blood to heal myself. In the faint recesses of my mind, I wonder why she’s the one questioning me and not one of her goons.

The Emissary dangles the Synth-O-Blood in front of me. “Is this what you’re after, half-breed?”

I refuse to look at it. I’m not going to beg for food like a dog.

She takes out a hairpin and pierces the bag. Blood drips onto the floor beside me, just within my reach. My nostrils flare, and my fangs drip with venom.

“This can be yours,” she says softly. “All you have to do is confess that you killed Chris.”

“Never.”

She squeezes the bag, and more blood spills onto the floor. I shut my eyes.

“Just confess—”

“No.”

“Confess!”

My stomach coils and cramps. The smell of blood is intoxicating, so sweet and delicious and—

I crouch over and lap up the spilled blood, humiliated and disgusted with myself. But I can’t stop,it tastes so good . . .
All you have to do is confess, and the rest is yours.
My skin immediately begins to heal as my blood is replenished, the red flesh turning to pink, then pearl white.

Loud voices sound outside the cell, and a second later, the steel door bangs open and a tall Darkling sweeps into the room, his face covered by a gilded mask.

Sigur!

The Darkling ambassador tears off the mask, revealing his furious face. Blackened claw marks scar his cheeks and cut across one of his huge orange eyes. His good eye flicks from my chained leg and bloodstained lips to the bag of Synth-O-Blood in the Emissary’s hand. He knows what’s been going on.

“Untie him immediately!” he orders.

“I don’t think so,” the Emissary says. “He’s a suspect in a murder—”

“There was no crime. A boy died of a drug overdose. It was foolish, but it wasn’t murder.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the Emissary replies. “And how dare you barge in here, making demands of
me
? Your diplomatic privileges do not give you the right to come into my place of business without prior arrangement.”

Sigur’s top lip curls, but he composes himself. He graciously bows, and the Emissary gives a satisfied smile.

“Emissary,” he says politely, though I can tell every word is a struggle, “there has been a misunderstanding. This boy is innocent. It would be a step toward reconciliation between our two species if you let him go.”

The Emissary narrows her eyes, clearly weighing up her options. If Sigur Marwick has personally come here to demand my release, he means business. Is it really worth risking another conflict between our species, over me?

“Let him go,” Emissary Buchanan finally says.

The guards bring in my clothes and unchain me. I dress hurriedly and follow Sigur through the maze of corridors to the entrance hall. The elevator doors ping open, and Natalie rushes into the hall.

“Ash! Martha told me you were in the cells. Thank His Mighty, you’re—” She notices Sigur and fear flashes across her face.

He sweeps past Natalie without a second glance. I want to hug her, tell her everything is okay, but I can’t in front of Sigur. I follow him outside. Fresh snow has carpeted the ground, and it glistens almost blue in the moonlight.

“Did they hurt you badly?” Sigur asks.

“I’ll live. How did you know I was here?”

“My lieutenant has been tracking you. She contacted me when she saw what happened,” he replies.

I knew someone was following me earlier!

He studies me for a moment.

“You look just like Annora,” he says quietly.

I inhale sharply at the mention of my mother’s name.

“Walk with me, Ash.”

Sigur stretches out his hand, beckoning me.

I hesitate. Snow silently falls in the space between us, and a million thoughts run through my head, mostly ways I want to kill him. This is the man who tore my family apart. Even so, I’m curious to know what he wants.
Plus, he did just save your skin.
I sigh and reluctantly go with him.