Under the Never Sky (15 page)

Rat grinned, showing teeth that looked like they’d been filed to points. “Easy, girl. We’re not going to hurt ya. Are we, Trip?”

“No, we won’t hurt you,” said Trip. He had intricate tattoos around his eyes, like embroidery. Like something she might see in a Masquerade Realm. “I never thought I’d see a Mole.”

“Not alive,” said Rat. “What’re you doing out here, girl?”

Aria’s gaze flicked to the crow man, who’d begun to come forward, moving with total silence. As frightened as she was of Rat and Trip, the crow man scared her more. Rat and Trip went still as he approached.

The crow man stood well over six feet tall. He had to look down to see her. The mask was terrifying, the beak angular and pointed, made of leather that had been pulled and stretched over a frame. The smooth parts were the color of skin, but a dirty inky color stained the creases. She could see his eyes through the holes in the mask. They were blue and clear as glass.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Aria.” She answered because there was no way she couldn’t.

“Where are you heading, Aria?”

“Home.”

“Of course.” The crow man tipped his head to the side. “I’m sorry. This must frighten you.” He removed the mask, letting it hang by a leather cord that he twisted so it fell over his back. He was younger than she expected. Only a few years older than she was, with dark hair and those clear blue eyes. She realized how much calmer she felt now that she could see his face.

He smiled. “That helped, didn’t it? My people bring in the night with ceremony. We use masks to scare off spirits of darkness. My friends aren’t initiated yet, or they’d be wearing them too. I’m called Harris. It’s good to meet you, Aria.”

His voice was a beautiful, smoky baritone. He sent Trip and Rat a pointed look.

“Yes. Good to meet you,” they said, tipping their heads and setting the bells ringing again.

“Bells are another part of our ceremony,” Harris said, following her gaze.

“Ancient cultures used bells,” she said, hating herself for knowing stupid things and for not being able to keep quiet when she was nervous.

“I’ve heard that Tibetans did.”

“Yes. They did.” Aria couldn’t believe he knew that. A Savage who knew more than just digging holes and starting fires. A spark of hope lit inside her. “They believed bells represented the wisdom of emptiness.”

“I’ve known a few people with empty minds, but I wouldn’t call them wise.” Harris smiled, his eyes flicking to Trip. “To us, bells are noises of lightness and good. Are you alone, Aria?”

“No. I’m with an Outsider.”

It was darker now, but by the soft light of the Aether, she saw his eyebrows furrow.

“I meant one of you,” she said, realizing they wouldn’t call themselves Outsiders.

“Ah . . . that’s good. This is dangerous land. I’m sure your companion told you.”

“Yes. He did.”

Trip snorted. “Nearly soiled myself when I heard you sneaking up on us.”

Rat lifted his big nose and sniffed the air. He shoved Trip in the shoulder. “Nearly?”

Harris smiled apologetically. “We have enough food to share and a fire going. Why don’t you and your companion join us tonight? If you think you can put up with these two.”

“I don’t think so. But thank you.” She realized she was gripping the handle of the knife so tight her knuckles throbbed. Why did she have a knife? She lowered it. As frightening as he’d looked with the mask on, Harris seemed friendly now. Far more than her Outsider, whose name she didn’t even know. And Harris
talked.

“Well,” she said, reconsidering. “I could see what he says.”

“I say no.”

They all turned sharply toward the voice uphill. It was her Outsider. He was barely visible in the faint light of dusk.

Aria was just going to call out to him when she heard a sound like a wet slap, followed by the ringing of bells. Rat tripped and fell backward. At least, this was what Aria thought until she saw a stick—no, an arrow—lodged in his throat.

She didn’t think. She spun and ran. Trip caught her arm and trapped it, twisting the knife from her fingers. Then he laid the blade on her neck and thrust her arm behind her. Aria gasped at the burst of pain in her shoulder. His stench brought a sickening roll to her stomach.

“Lower your bow or I’ll kill her!” Trip’s voice exploded by her ear.

She saw him now. The Outsider had come closer. He stood by the cave, his legs and arms lined up with his bow, a weapon he had been carrying for days but that somehow she’d forgotten about. He’d taken off his white shirt, and his skin blended into the murky woods.

“Do what he says!” Aria cried. What was he doing? It was too dark. He would hit her instead of Trip.

She saw movement to her left. Harris started up the hill toward the Outsider. He no longer held the staff but a long knife that reflected the Aether light. He drew closer in determined strides. The Outsider kept still as a statue, either not seeing Harris or not caring.

Trip’s panicked breath pumped hot foul air against her cheek. “Lower your bow!” he yelled.

She didn’t see anything this time either, but she knew he’d fired another arrow. Aria heard a pop and then she jolted backward. She tumbled over Trip. Momentum carried her down the slope. Her knee struck something sharp as she hit the ground. She sprang to her feet despite the stab of pain that shot down her leg.

Trip lay twitching on his side, an arrow stuck in the left part of his chest. She turned uphill, terror like a shriek in her ears. She’d seen people wrestle and fence in the Realms. She had some idea of what a true fight might look like. Parrying and deflecting. Footwork and guards. She couldn’t have been more wrong.

Harris and the Outsider swept past each other in streaks of movement, one bare-skinned, the other draped in black cloth. She could just make out the flash of a knife or the twisting crow mask. She wanted to run. She didn’t want to see this. But she couldn’t bring herself to move.

It took no more than seconds, though it felt much longer. Their bodies slowed and parted. The cloaked figure, Harris, hit the ground in a black heap. The bare-skinned Outsider stood above him.

Then she saw something roll downhill as if it had been bowled toward her. It hit a bump that shook loose a pale mask, and now she saw clear blue eyes and a nose and white teeth and black hair, tumbling over the dirt and trailing red.

Chapter 16
PEREGRINE

“N
o, no, no.” Aria shook her head, her eyes were wide with terror. “What just happened?”

Perry skidded over loose gravel as he sprinted downhill to her. “Are you hurt?”

She leaped back. “Stay away from me! Don’t touch me.” Her hand came to her stomach. “What just happened? What did you just do?”

Every scent came to Perry clear and strong on the cool night air. Blood and smoke. Her fear, like ice. And something else. A pungent bitterness. He inhaled, scanning, and saw the source. Dark patches stained the front of her shirt.

“What is that?” he asked.

Her head whipped to the side like she expected to see someone. Perry grabbed a fistful of her shirt. She grazed him with a punch to the chin.

“Hold still!” He trapped her wrist and brought the shirt up, drawing the scent in. He couldn’t believe it. “That’s why you left? You left for those berries?”

Then he saw that she was wearing the device over her eye again. Those men could have taken the eyepiece. Then how would he have gotten Talon back? She pulled out of his grasp.

“You slaughtered them,” she said, her lips trembling. “Look what you did.”

Perry pressed his fist to his mouth and stalked away, not trusting himself to be near her. He’d crossed the Croven’s scent soon after he had left her. Perry knew they were heading toward the shelter of the cave. He’d taken another path, had sprinted to get there first, only to find the cave empty. By the time he’d picked up her trail and followed it, he’d been too late. She had brought him right back to the cave.

Perry rounded on her. “Stupid Dweller. I told you to stay here! You left to pick
poisonous
berries.”

She shook her head, turning a stunned look from the Croven’s dead body to him. “How could you? They wanted to share their food with us . . . and you just
killed
them.”

Perry was coming off the rush and beginning to shake. She didn’t know what he had scented from those men. Their ache for her flesh had been so potent it had nearly scored his nostrils. “Fool. You were going to
be
their food.”

“No . . . no. . . . They didn’t do anything. You just started shooting at them. . . .
You
did this. You’re worse than the stories, Savage. You’re a
monster
.”

He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This is the third time I save your life and that’s what you call me?” He had to get away from her. He jabbed a finger into the dark, pointing east. “Mount Arrow is on the other side of that ridge. Head three hours that way. Let’s see how you do on your own out here, Mole.”

He spun and broke into a run, plunging swiftly into the woods. He pounded his rage into the earth but slowed after a few miles. He wanted to leave her, but he couldn’t. She had the Smarteye. And she was a Mole who lived in fake worlds. What did she know about surviving out here?

He circled back and found her, keeping far enough away that she wouldn’t see him. She had Talon’s knife in her hand. Perry cursed at himself. How had he forgotten that? He watched as she picked through the woods with surprising quiet and care. After a while, he realized she was managing to keep a straight course too. He’d wanted to see her panic. She hadn’t, and that streaked him even more. With only a short distance left to go, he pulled ahead and ran the rest of the way.

It was still dark when he reached the Blackfins compound. Perry caught his breath as he absorbed the shocking scene around him. The compound looked nothing like the bustling settlement he’d seen a year ago. Now, it was crushed. Abandoned. All its scents faded and old. A picked-over carcass at the foot of Mount Arrow.

Aether storms and fires had leveled all but one of the homes, but one was all he needed. There was no door and only part of a roof. He dropped his satchel at the threshold so she’d know where to find him. Then he went inside and sank onto a battered straw mattress. Above him the broken roof’s timbers stuck out like ribs.

Perry dropped his arm over his eyes.

Had he left her too soon?

Had she gotten lost?

Where was she?

Finally he heard faint footsteps. He looked toward the door in time to see her rest her head on his satchel. Then he closed his eyes and slept.

He stepped outside quietly the next morning. Her small camouflage-clad form was curled against the wall, lit by the hazy light of a clouded sky. Aria’s black hair fell over her face, but he could see she’d taken off the device. She held it in her hand like it was one of the rocks she collected. Then he saw her bare feet. Dirty. Wet with blood. Raw flesh showing where the skin had peeled back or fallen off completely. The book covers must have broken after he’d left her.

What had he done?

She stirred, peering at him through her lashes before she sat up against the house. Perry shifted his weight, wondering what to say. He didn’t mull it over long before her temper came at him, bringing him a rush of alarm.

“Aria, what’s wrong?”

She stood, moving slow and defeated. “I’m dying. I’m bleeding.”

Perry’s gaze traveled down her body.

“It’s not my feet.”

“Did you eat any of those berries?”

“No.” She held out her hand. “You might as well have this. Maybe it’ll still help you find the boy you’re looking for.”

Perry closed his eyes and inhaled. Her scent had changed. The rancy Dweller musk was almost gone. Her skin breathed a new scent into the air, faint but unmistakable. For the first time since he’d known her, her flesh smelled like something he recognized, feminine and sweet.

He smelled violets.

He took a step back, swearing silently as it hit him. “You’re not dying. . . . You really don’t know?”

“I don’t know anything anymore.”

Perry looked down at the ground and drew another breath, no doubt in his mind.

“Aria . . . it’s your first blood.”

Chapter 17
ARIA

S
ince she had been thrown out of Reverie, she’d survived an Aether storm, she’d had a knife held to her throat by a cannibal, and she’d seen men murdered.

This was worse.

Aria didn’t recognize herself. She felt like she’d donned a pseudo-body in a Realm and couldn’t get out of it.

Her mind ran in circles. She was bleeding. Like an animal. Dwellers didn’t menstruate. Procreating happened through genetic design, then a special course of hormones and implantation. Fertility was used strictly when needed. How terrifying to think she could
conceive
at random.

Maybe the outside air was changing her. Maybe she was breaking down. Malfunctioning. How would she explain this to her mother? What if she couldn’t be fixed and this happened to her again, what, every month?

She’d been prepared for death. Death was to be expected on the outside. A normal consequence of being tossed into the Death Shop. But no matter how she looked at it, menstruating was utterly barbaric. She lay down on the filthy mattress, feeling much the same. Filthy. She closed her eyes, hoping to shut out the horrible outside world. She imagined lying on the white sand of her favorite beach Realm, listening to the soft lapping of the waves as she began to relax.

Aria tried to restart her Smarteye again.

It worked flawlessly.

All her icons were back, exactly where they should be. The icon of Aria strangling herself slid to the center of her screen, flashing a reminder.

SINGING SUNDAY. 11 A.M.

She chose it and fractioned instantly. Swaths of the Opera House’s crimson curtain billowed in front of her. Aria reached out, touching the thick velvet. She’d never seen it move like this, in rolling waves. She stepped forward, feeling through the heavy cloth for the center seam. She felt the curtain shift as it surrounded her. She turned in circles and saw no way out. Panicked, she pushed out her arms, but the material grew coarse as gravel beneath her touch.