Black City (25 page)

Spiraling around the circumference of the room is a metal walkway, which coils up three floors like a giant snake, leading off to a number of secondary chambers. In the center of the room is a round banquet table, with strange grooves carved into it.
What are they for?

There’s an echo of footsteps and voices from a passageway to our right, and my heartbeat speeds up as they get closer and closer. I swallow, nervous all of a sudden. Dozens of Darklings enter the room, dressed in their finest robes. They all hurry to greet me, bowing and introducing themselves. Eight of them are part of the Darkling Assembly, the equivalent of the Sentry government. One very formal and serious-looking female Darkling, with a long, narrow face, introduces herself as Logan Henrikk. She seems less impressed than the others that I’m here and goes over to talk to Sigur as I meet everyone else.

Soon the room is filled with a hundred Darklings, and the party is in full swing, with music playing and Sanguis wine flowing. Everyone wants to shake my hand. I turn to Sigur, my arm aching, and give him a pleading look. He claps his hands, and everyone instantly leaves me alone. The members of the Assembly sit around the table, while the other Darklings make themselves comfortable on the floor.

Sigur indicates for me to take a seat next to him at the table.

“So, what do you think of the Legion?” Sigur asks me when we’ve settled down, pouring me a glass of Sanguis wine.

“I didn’t realize things were so bad here,” I say.

Sigur half smiles. “The Sentry government is good at propaganda. If the humans knew how bad the conditions were, they might be tempted to join Humans for Unity.” Was that a sneer in his voice?

I doubt people would join Humans for Unity if they saw this place, but I keep my thoughts to myself. I’ve lived around humans long enough to know they don’t care as long as it doesn’t affect their cozy lives.

I drink a few gulps of Sanguis wine, and my head starts to feel pleasantly fuzzy. I put the wine down on top of the unusual grooves carved into the table.

“What are these for?” I ask.

“You’ll see,” he replies.

I drum my fingers against the table. “I like what you’ve done with the place. Very Darkling chic.”

Sigur smiles sadly. “It feels very empty without Annora.”

I wince. Why did he have to bring Mom up?

He turns and studies me with his one good eye, which blazes orange in the firelight. There’s a tenderness to his face I’ve not seen before.

“I’m so sorry, Ash. For everything. I never intended to hurt you or your father. It just . . .”

“Happened? Yeah, I understand.” Once you find your Blood Mate, nothing can keep you apart, even if one of them is already married. I finally get that. My mom and Sigur didn’t have a choice; fate threw them together. I drink some wine, glancing at Sigur occasionally. I’ve hated him for years, but maybe I was too quick to judge him. He clearly loved Mom, he saved me, and he never deliberately meant to hurt Dad. It just happened.
He let his niece die, though.
He can’t be fully trusted. Music begins to play, the tune exotic and ancient, the sound of sitars and flutes echoing around the chamber. I sink back into my chair and take another gulp of the wine. I almost manage to forget the Darklings outside, shivering and starving while we’re all in here having a feast.

The music changes to something slow and seductive, and everyone in the room begins to cheer. I sit up, alert, wondering what’s going on. The candles flicker as a beautiful girl appears at the top of the spiral walkway, her inky-black hair twisting around her pale body, which is barely concealed beneath her flimsy halter-neck dress. A group of Darkling children surround her, their faces painted honey brown with spots on them. They’re wearing cat ears and are crawling around on their hands and knees. The guests boo at the children in a jovial way, like they’re at a pantomime. The kids hiss at them.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“A reenactment of the battle between the goddess Zanthina and the Bastet people,” Sigur explains.

The girl gracefully dances down the stairs and leaps onto the banquet table.

“This is the goddess Zanthina,” Sigur whispers to me. “Every night she dances across the sky to bring out the evening stars.”

She begins to gyrate to the music, spinning and whirling, her footsteps sure and precise. I gulp, my cheeks glowing from more than just the wine. The children climb onto the table and dance around the girl, hissing at her, pawing at her skirt.

“These are the cat people,” Sigur says. “They are envious of Zanthina’s dancing and wish to kill her, so they can control the night.”

The girl and the children begin an aggressive dance. She lashes out at the cat people. The children fall down one by one—Zanthina is victorious. Everyone claps and cheers. She bows. Her dark black eyes rest on me, and my heart falters. She’s a twin-blood, like me.

“Ash, let me introduce you to Evangeline, the jewel in my collection.”

Something suddenly clicks into place.

“You’re the girl I saw at the execution the other day,” I say.

Sigur pats Evangeline’s cheek in an affectionate, fatherly way.

“Evangeline’s my most trusted lieutenant,” he says.

As Evangeline sits down, her leg presses against mine. The touch is so slight, and yet fire blazes across my skin where our legs have connected, roaring through my veins, awakening my senses, awakening the Darkling within me.
What the hell was that?
She smirks, like she knows the effect she’s having on me.
It’s just because she’s a twin-blood, that’s all. It’s natural to have an attraction to her, right? Nothing to obsess about, no need to read too much into it. Right?

She chats to Sigur in a very casual, mocking way, and after watching them for half an hour, I can see that their relationship runs deeper than just colleagues.

“You and Sigur seem very close,” I say to Evangeline.

She nods. “He and Annora raised me.”

Sharp pain stabs at my stomach at the mention of Mom’s name.
She raised Evangeline?
All those years I was pining for my mom and wondering if she missed me, she was bringing up another child with Sigur.

“Evangeline worshipped Annora,” Sigur says, not noticing how much these words cut me. “She used to follow her around like a little duckling.”

Sigur ruffles Evangeline’s hair, and she laughs, slapping his hand away.

“Don’t make me hurt you, old man. This hairstyle took two hours to do,” she teases.

He rolls his one good eye, shaking his head. “How things change. She was such a tomboy when she was little, not interested in her looks at all. I miss those days,” he adds wistfully.

Jealousy twists like a knot inside me at how close they are. I wonder what it would’ve been like having a Darkling father, how much easier things would’ve been.

Sigur claps his hands, and everyone stops talking. “Bring in the guest.”

There are excited murmurs, and I tear my eyes away from Evangeline as a teenage boy is led into the room. He looks slightly older than me—maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. His eyes are dilated, and he’s dragging his feet, clearly drugged. Sigur waves a hand, and the room falls silent. He walks over to the boy and runs a claw down his fleshy cheek, drawing a fine line of blood. My stomach wrenches. The boy sways, intoxicated. Sigur gently lays him down on the banquet table, and I suddenly realize what the grooves in the wood are for.
Siphoning blood.
I stand up to protest, but Evangeline pulls me back into my seat.

“He’s just a Hazer,” she says. “I picked him up from one of the dens. He doesn’t even know what’s happening.”

“Sigur allows you to go that far into the city?” I ask, surprised. It's one thing letting her stand on the Boundary Wall beside him during Jana’s execution, protected by the Legion guards; it’s altogether a different matter letting her wander the dangerous city streets alone.

She gives me a condescending look. “Sigur often sends me out on errands.”

“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?” I ask.

“Not really. Sigur’s bribed a few of the Sentry guards, so whenever they’re on duty, I’m free to come and go as I please. As long as I don’t bump into a Tracker out in the streets, I’m safe.”

Sigur drags his claw down the boy’s chest, drawing gasps from the ravenous audience. He licks the wound with his black tongue, his eyes shut as he relishes the taste.

I swallow back my revulsion and desire. I know it’s wrong, but I’m starving, and the idea of fresh blood is
so
tempting. The boy groans as Sigur slashes his neck, severing his jugular vein. Blood splashes across the table, and the Darklings moan. Sigur guzzles the liquid dripping from the open wound and the others watch hungrily . . . me included.

I chew down my hunger and try not to watch, although the smell of hot blood stings my nostrils and makes my insides squirm. I can only imagine how amazing it tastes, so fresh . . .

“Go on.” Sigur steps back, blood on his lips.

I’m not sure if it’s my hunger, peer pressure or the Sanguis wine, but suddenly it doesn’t seem like such a big deal if I drink just a little. The Darklings move out of my way, giving me a proper view of the dying boy. His neck and chest are slick with blood; his breathing is shallow and ragged. I should be repulsed, but I’m not. The sight
excites
me, and for once, I’m not scared to admit it. I don’t have to hide my true nature from anyone here; I can be the monster I truly am, and no one will judge me for it.

I plunge my fangs into the boy’s neck and drink greedily, loving the sensation of being able to feed without people gasping or screaming, without worrying about getting caught. The boy lets out a final breath as the last of his life drains from his body.

I stagger back, the effects of the Haze in the boy’s blood making me unsteady on my feet, and wipe my mouth, disgusted with myself. How can I be so reckless? It’s this place, these creatures. They make me feel so irresponsible, so
inhuman.
But I am human—at least part of me is.

I sprint out of the cave into the open air. The stench of the city hits me again, and my stomach churns. I throw up until my stomach is empty.

“What’s your problem?” Evangeline says, startling me. “It’s rude to leave a feast. Sigur’s really insulted.”

“I don’t care!”

“Why are you so upset? You were just feeding.”

“On a
human.
”

“So? That’s what Darklings eat.”

“I’m not a fragging Darkling, I’m—”

“Human?” She laughs. “Oh, Ash, you poor thing. You really think you’re one of them.”

“No I don’t. I know I’m not human, but I’m not one of
them
either!” I say, pointing toward the cave.

I walk away, but Evangeline won’t leave me alone.

“You’ve been around humans too long, Ash. It’s good that you’re here with your own kind. You’ll come around to our way of thinking soon enough,” she says.

“Will you just piss off?”

“Oh temper, temper,” she teases. “You have to toughen up if you want to survive around here. Darklings don’t have time for human emotions.”

“How can you live with them? They’re vile,” I say, my voice choked.

They’re not what I expected at all. They’re nothing like my mom.

Evangeline’s face stiffens. “Sigur’s taken good care of me. He looks after all the twin-bloods.”

“There are more of us here?” My curiosity is piqued.

She takes my hand. A different sort of hunger flares inside me, and my skin feels hot where our hands connect. An image of Natalie pops into my head, and shame crawls through me. Even so, I don’t let go of Evangeline’s hand.

She leads me into a crumbling building, which reeks of decay.

“What is this place?” I ask.

“The hospital,” she says.

We go to a ward on the first floor. Evangeline silently waits by the door as I take in the scene. Rows of metal beds are crammed into the room, and nearly all of them are occupied by Darklings infected with Wrath. Each one is at a different stage of the disease. Some just have yellowed eyes and thinning hair, while others are at the end-stages, just like Mom. The cloying smell of rotting flesh hits my nostrils and bile rises up my throat.

“There used to be one hundred and forty-three of us,” Evangeline explains. “The Wrath spread through the ghetto so quickly; first the Darklings got sick, then the twin-bloods. We hoped they’d be okay, because they’re part human, but . . .” She shakes her head. “There wasn’t much we could do. We’re becoming extinct, Ash.”

My throat chokes up. I knew twin-bloods were rare, but I never realized it was this bad. With no more twin-bloods being born in the USS due to segregation, it’ll just be me and Evangeline left.

“Your mother took good care of us,” Evangeline says. “She nursed the sick ones, despite the risks to herself. I helped out as best I could.”

“Weren’t you worried about getting infected?” I ask.

Evangeline gazes down at the ground. “I already am.”

“You don’t look sick.”

“I have a natural immunity to the effects of the Wrath. We’re not sure why I’m different from the other twin-bloods,” she says. “I’m still a carrier, though, so I can pass it on.”

She doesn’t have to explain that any further. When Darklings mate, they often bite each other and blood share. Evangeline will never be able to do that; not with a Darkling, anyway.

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Maybe it’s a good thing. Sigur thinks my blood might be the cure. We got close to finding a vaccine recently with the limited resources we have, then . . .” She shrugs. “We don’t know. The Wrath’s mutated. It’s gotten worse somehow.”

I leave the ward, unable to stand being surrounded by my sick brethren for another moment. We walk through the ghetto, passing burned-out, ruined buildings. Unlike the buildings on my side of the wall, these ones are covered in ivy and white flowers that are abundant with dark blue berries, giving the whole place an otherworldly beauty. Evangeline notices me looking at them.

“Some of the Darklings grew the flowers to make this place a little more bearable to live in,” she says.