Alight (40 page)

A
knight
? Is that what the circle-stars are really called?

“The folly of youth,” Matilda says. “Such beauty, yet she doesn’t care. I was like that once. I won’t make that same mistake again. I’ll treasure my youth. This time, I’ll savor every last moment of it.”

Coyotl reaches into the box, pulls something out, holds it up for Aramovsky to see—it’s a silver bracelet. The ceiling lights play off the white stone, gleam against the long metal point.

“Twenty of them,” Coyotl says.

Aramovsky slowly reaches out a trembling hand, takes the bracelet.

“Twenty,”
he says. “With these and our war machines, we’ll slaughter the Springers. How do I use it?”

Matilda pulls Aramovsky closer to her. I see his lip curl slightly, involuntarily.

“Remember our deal,” she says, her words syrupy sweet. “When you attack, you will
not
use people on the list I gave you. Their creators are waiting—those shells must not be risked.”

He hasn’t attacked yet. There’s still time.

Aramovsky nods. “I understand. And should I still send you Bishop, Gaston and Borjigin?”

“Yes,” she says. “And make sure you do it before the battle. We need to take out the strongest first, a few at a time, so there are no more accidents. Make sure they come alone, and through the entrance I showed you. We’ll gas them there so they don’t put up a struggle—these children are dangerous.” Matilda looks down at me. “You cut off Visca’s head with a shovel? Really, my dear, that’s so…well, so
savage
.”

An insane cackle bubbles out from behind her mask.

Aramovsky lifts the box off my thighs. He starts to turn away, then stops, turns back, leans close.

“Don’t be afraid,” he says. “The gods want this for you.”

He means it. He believes every word.

I spit in his face.

He stands, shocked and angry, spit clinging to one closed eye. He wipes it away with the sleeve of his red robe.

“You’ve always thought you were smarter than me,” he says.

“Not smarter,” I say. “
Deadlier
. Tell your gods I’ll send you to meet them very soon.”

Coyotl guides Aramovsky away, somewhere behind me. They must be walking to the racks with the empty plastic bins.

“Leave her be,” Coyotl says. “I’ll walk you out and show you how to use the bracelets.”

My brave words ring hollow. The reality of my situation pushes down on me. I have failed in every way. Barkah’s people outnumber mine a hundred to one, maybe more, but those bracelets will even the odds. Aramovsky is only going to use people that don’t have a living Grownup ready to take over their body. Many of those that fight will die, sacrifices to the God of Blood. Those that do not fight will be rounded up a few at a time, then their minds will be wiped, their young bodies used as a vessel for ancient evil.

Just as I will be used.

Matilda delicately reaches for my face. I thrash my head away, lurch at my restraints, but there is no escape. When her hand comes close enough, I bite at it.

She pauses, her fingertips just out of reach.

“Biting,
again
?”

Matilda walks to the platform, grabs something there, brings it back. She’s holding a thin red cane. She shows it to me.

“Remember when Grampa used one of these on us if we cursed? You know what he always said—
Spare the rod, spoil the child
.”

A flick of her wrist raises it, another flick brings it down on my stomach.

Agony engulfs me. My body convulses: my muscles tighten so suddenly and completely that wrists and ankles and hips smash against the bars holding them down. I
burn,
I’m burning up I’m going to die
I don’t want to die I—

She lifts the rod and the pain stops.

My breath comes rushing back. I taste blood.

“Silly girl,” Matilda says. “You bit through your lip. I suppose that serves you right, but don’t damage yourself any further.”

The withered hand reaches for my face. I don’t want that pain again, so I close my eyes and stay still.

Rough, dry fingers on my forehead, sliding across my skin.

“Look what you’ve done to my pretty hair,” she says. “I can’t wait to feel a brush slide through it once again. It’s been so long.”

This dead thing is
petting
me. I’m terrified and disgusted. I’m hateful and alone.

She makes a
tsk-tsk
sound. I feel her pull something out of my hair.

I force myself to open my eyes and look at my killer. If I am to die, I will die facing my enemy.

She’s holding a bit of twig.

“As soon as the transfer is done, I’m going to take a long bath,” she says. “I’m going to clean up this filth you’ve caked on yourself. This is no way for an empress to look.”

“Brewer said he was on our side,” I say. “Why did he lie about the shuttle being the only way down here?”

“He didn’t lie. There used to be five shuttles. During the rebellion, Brewer’s people destroyed all but one—then he locked us out of the hangar. When you made me take you to the hangar, I didn’t think it would be open, but Brewer unlocked it for you. That was the first time I’d laid eyes on a shuttle in two centuries.”

“Then what about Bello’s ship?”

“We built it,” Matilda says. “We thought we might need a way down to Omeyocan someday, and two hundred years is a lot of time to make contingency plans. Brewer ruined the shuttle fleet, but there is so much of the
Xolotl
he doesn’t control, where he can’t see what’s happening. The ship we made isn’t as elegant as the one you stole, but it was good enough to get thirteen of us safely down to the surface. While you dealt with Bello, the rest of us came here and prepared.”

I look her up and down, take in her old, ruined body. How could she have reached the top of the Observatory in order to get down here?

She keeps petting me. I have to clench my teeth together to resist biting her again.

“I’m sure you’re wondering about all those steps,” she says. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember how unimaginative I was at your age. There are other entrances to this place, pretty girl. Do you think I wanted to spend my next life trudging up and down
three thousand steps
? If you and your Bishop had walked around the temple and looked
carefully,
you would have found a normal entrance that leads right to this very spot. No symbol required, no steps involved.”

She called it a
temple
. Just like Aramovsky did.

My head hurts so bad…it feels like my brain has been crushed and smashed, and this sense of failure is making it worse.

“Coyotl and Beckett were overwritten,” I say. “Is Muller still alive?”

“You sending those three out was a wonderful break for us. And with a functioning pentapod, no less. Little Victor Muller is locked up in an Observatory prison cell, where he’ll stay until we retake the shuttle. We will take the shuttle up to the
Xolotl
instead of the awful ship we came down in. Aramovsky said you didn’t take any joy rides, fortunately, so there should be enough fuel for the return trip.”

The taller of the two Grownups on the pedestal platform calls out: “We are ready.”

That’s the woman. Her voice, so old, yet so familiar…

Please, don’t let it be her…please don’t let it be her…

“Is that Spingate?”

Matilda laughs. “Spingate was on Brewer’s side. I had Bishop cave in her skull with one of those silly tools she liked so much. Don’t worry, pretty girl—Aramovsky will make sure your Spingate is armed and in the first wave he sends against the vermin.”

“No! You can’t make her fight—she’s pregnant!”

“Amazing,” Matilda says. “You hormone-engorged little brats didn’t waste any time, did you? Rutting around like animals. How about you,
Em
?” She spits my name like it’s a curse word. “Were you a sinful slut like Theresa? Did you steal my virginity from me?”

“I didn’t do anything. I don’t know about anyone else, just Spingate and Gaston.”

“What?”

The word is a shout—commanding, insistent—that comes from the pedestal platform. The little Grownup steps onto the floor and walks toward us. He stops next to Matilda.

“Captain,” she says. I’m surprised to hear respect in her voice…does this tiny man intimidate her?

He stares down at me through his mask, two red eyes thrumming with excitement and intensity.

“The Spingate shell is pregnant with my child?”

I don’t know what to say. Will they want to kill her and the baby, or will the truth keep her off the battlefield? This creature is a thousand years old, but there has to be
some
bit of the Gaston I know still in there.

I nod.

He turns to Matilda. “I will tell Aramovsky to bring her to me.” Without waiting for an answer, he walks off into the shadows.

One-eyed Matilda seems rattled. She gestures to the platform, to the lone Grownup standing there.

“Obviously, that is not Theresa Spingate,” Matilda says. “But I’m sure you know this one’s shell. May I present the lovely and talented Doctor Kenzie Smith?”

The Grownup on the platform bows stiffly. She starts to stand, then freezes, a gnarled hand going to her back.

“Oh,” she says. “Dammit, that
hurts
.” She slowly straightens, holds on to a pedestal for balance. “Let’s get this started. I need to sit down soon.”

Matilda rubs her nasty hands together. The skin is so rough I can
hear
it.

“Finally, we’re ready,” she says.

“Not
you,
Matilda,” Smith says. “I’m afraid Bishop hit your shell on the head a little too hard. There could be a concussion. We have to wait so that I can make sure there isn’t any damage I need to fix first.”

Matilda’s one eye swirls madly. She’s furious. She glares at someone in the corner. I crane my head up to see: the hulking form of Old Bishop. He’s been standing there the entire time, silent, unmoving.

“You stupid oaf,” she says to him. “I told you to be careful.”

I hear concern in her hiss of a voice, perhaps even fear. Brewer said the longer we were alive, forming our own memories and connections, the less chance the process had of working. But it worked on Bello, Coyotl and Beckett, so it will likely work on me—unless my grinding headache causes problems, somehow.

“I’ve waited so long,” Matilda says. “A few hours more won’t matter.”

She gives my hair a final pat.

“Since you’ve been so difficult, my dear, let’s watch something together while we wait. Kenzie, open it.”

The golden coffin to my left makes the same sound mine made. The sides lower. My heart shatters. I want to wake up, I want all of this to be a horrible dream.

It’s O’Malley.

He’s lying on white linen, held down by the same kind of bars that hold me. He’s blinking, just coming awake.

“O’Malley! It’s Em! Look at me!”

He turns his head, terror wrinkling his face. He sees me, recognizes me, then starts looking everywhere—up, left, right, down toward his feet. He cranes his head back, trying to see behind him.

“Em…are we in the Observatory?”

On the platform, one of the pedestals starts to glow.

“Pre-imprinting preparations complete,” Smith says. “We’re ready. Bring in Kevin.”

I’m confused for a moment—Kevin O’Malley is right next to me—then with a chest-ripping blast of horror I understand.

And so does he.

“No,” he says. “Don’t do this!”

Past our feet, I see Coyotl helping a masked Grownup walk toward the black X, a Grownup so old and withered he can barely move.

“Is it time?” the old one says. “Is it finally my time?”

The voice sounds ancient, like it’s made of dust and worm-eaten wood. And yet, I recognize it, instantly.

It is the voice of Kevin O’Malley.

In the coffin next to me, my friend starts to scream.

B
ehind the clear mask, Old O’Malley’s red eyes appear cloudy, unfocused.

Matilda pets my hair.

“Just watch, little one,” she says. “Your turn is coming soon.”

I shake my head, over and over. “Please, don’t kill him.”

O’Malley pulls at his restraints. His eyes blaze with animal panic. He grunts desperately, throws himself left and right.

Matilda is standing between my coffin and his. She turns, raises the red cane, snaps it down on his stomach. His back arches so suddenly and severely I wonder if his spine might snap. His throat grinds out a
guh-guh-guh-guh
sound that makes me scream in helpless rage.

She lifts the rod.

“You will not hurt your body, not now,” she says to him. “Struggle again, you get the rod again.”

Coyotl mostly drags Old O’Malley to the black X. Old Bishop comes over to help. Together, they raise the shriveled Grownup’s arms, lock the shackles around his wrists, then restrain his ankles.

Bishop removes Old O’Malley’s mask. Those disgusting folds of wet flesh—they either cover the Grownup’s mouth, or they
are
the mouth. Sickening to look at.