Edge of the Falls (After the Fall) (13 page)

“The protests over the morality of genetic modification,” I say. “People were upset the military was playing god.”

“Exactly. Most histories agree that the Cataclysm really began at the Mutations Protests. And after Longest Night, the bio-engineers and geneticists vanished.”

“Most of them died,” I say.

“Not all of them,” Rook says, looking down. "They didn't stop, you know. The experiments never stopped.”

I am quiet. Everyone knows they didn't stop.

"Even Before--the governments knew what a powerful weapon genetic mutation could be. There is something unsettling about facing an enemy who wears a face similar to your own," he smiles ruefully.

"They are responsible for you," I say, my voice gentle.

He startles, and I wonder if he forgot for a moment that I was here. He seems so utterly lost in his own thoughts.

“What do you think happened to the remaining geneticists? Those mad scientists who destroyed the world?”

I shrug. “Everyone knows the Commission hid them—for their own protection.”

He smiles at me, quizzically. “Do you think the Commission was ever that selfless?”

I make a face, conceding his point--the Commission does nothing without reason, and usually those reasons are self-serving. Even when it first formed this was true.

"Do you know when the first ban-wolf was created?" he asks, looking at me.

I shake my head—like so many creatures that hadn't existed Before, the ban-wolves were simple facts of life. No one thought to wonder where they came from.

"Five years after the first City—Genesis Fields—was formed," he answers. "The Citizens had been causing problems. Before was too fresh in their minds. They wanted freedom again. Then a pack of wolves who were all too human appeared Outside the Shield, and just like that, the Citizens settled down. There was no more talk of replacing the Commission or the Prince."

The question looms before both of us, and he is watching me with those stern eyes of his. Swallowing hard, I ask, "Where did they come from?"

He smiles, sharp teeth bared. "Where rumor has always claimed they'd come from—Gutterlings, the idiots who challenged the Commission, Keepers in disgrace." He sighs, and runs a hand through his hair as he slumps next to me. His claws gleam, brilliantly sharp. "The idea of seeing a friend's face like
this
terrified Citizens. It's an effective tool."

"But you aren't what the stories say—you aren't monsters," I protest.

He doesn't react. For a long time, I think he has not heard me—maybe he is lost in his thoughts again. Finally he says, "I thank you for that, Sabah. But you are the minority. It is hard to prove we are not monsters when that is all people see. And it has been over a hundred years since the Cataclysm--ban-wolves are a fact of life, just like tigercats and fire-lizards and dragons."

It's true—as much as I hate it, there is no denying that ban-wolves have lived up to their reputation over the years. The memory of Berg's scars--long and thin and suddenly familiar—rise in my memory. And another memory: Arjun and Berg, fighting in the snow as I watched in terror.

"Who was responsible?" I ask, quietly.

"The geneticists. They had to earn their protection, you know. Some were given Gutterlings to teach since when they died, someone would need to carry on their work. But most were put into protected laboratories, and they set to work creating the tools of the Commission. The first Commission was made of survivors. They had to be, to make it through Longest Night and the aftermath. And they knew what a weapon they could have, if they didn’t let the knowledge die."

The cold-hearted planning, the matter of fact way Rook lays it out makes me shudder, and he gives me a pitying look. "Really, my dear. You know they test each child at birth--Quota or no, if they aren't genetically pure, they're put out of the city."

I nod, absently. That's how the twins landed on our doorstep as infants. "Sometimes, they use them—for experiments, and on occasion, as students," he explains. “You don’t have to be perfect to be a good tool.”

"I don't understand what this has to do with me," I say, ignoring my fear.

He laughs, suddenly. "I'm sorry, Sabah. I should clarify, I suppose." He leans back, and smiles at me, a tight, mysterious smile. "Word reached me years ago, shortly after I was made into a ban-wolf, about a geneticist who had fallen out of favor."

My heart skips a beat as he pauses, almost as if waiting for me to understand. I keep my face blank, unwilling to give away my thoughts.

"She was Exiled—but as a trained scientist, she was worth too much to be left as other Exiles. The Prince gave her a home, and repaired it. Gave her the tools she needed for her work, and let her live within the shadow of the City. In exchange for her occasional cooperation, she was left in peace.”

My mouth is dry, so dry it takes two tries before I can say, "I don't know who you’re talking about."

His smile is razor sharp and does not reach his eyes as he says genially, "I am talking, my dear, about your Mistress."

I am sitting up when Arjun skids into my cave.

He stops as abruptly as he came in, watching me cautiously. I don't say anything, but twist the frayed edge of my blanket around my finger until it begins to turn purple.

"Rook said you wanted to see me,” he says at last, moving to sit on my bed.

I hide my flinch as his weight shudders through the bed. My side hurts less than it did, but it still throbs, the stitches tender.

"I do." I nod, but I am not sure how to proceed. Doubt and fear make me nauseous.

The ban-wolves know the Mistress. They watch her, waiting for... what? What do they think she can offer them? And—the question that bothers me the most—is that what drew Arjun to me? I look at him. What do I really know about this gleaming white ban-wolf who has rescued me so many times?

"Tell me the truth," I say, so quietly he leans closer to hear me. He watches me, and it is suddenly all consuming that he understand what I am asking. "I’ve lived my whole life with secrets—the Mistress is better at keeping secrets than the Commission. And Berg,” I say, my voice catching a little, "did not tell me the truth about him and the Mistress. When he finally did tell me, it was too late. I don’t trust him. I can’t. I want the truth about you, now. I want it before it hurts."

I'm begging, and I hate that. But I can't handle any more lies or half-truths. And despite everything, Arjun matters to me, in ways I haven’t fully considered.

He stares at me. Finally he nods, and leans back in his chair.

"I was born in the City—the second born child. My mother's Quota specified a first-born daughter, followed by a son. My sister was Insured immediately, but I was to do a tour with the Keepers before my Insurance was offered. I grew up knowing that, and I was fine with it," he says, his voice soft. There is a fondness that makes my anger and fear melt.

"My sister was only two years older than me, and Mother's Insured had his own Quota to meet—another daughter. The first pregnancy resulted in a boy.” His voice is empty. So empty. I reach for him, taking his hand, and he summons a weak smile. "I was six when he was born. There was no real choice, even if we wanted to keep him. My sister and I took him to the Shield. And we hoped he would survive."

I don’t ask if he did. An infant Outside almost never does, unless handed directly to the tribes. I squeeze his hand, tugging lightly to pull him down next to me. It makes pain flare in my side—but it doesn't matter. All that matters is holding him.

"I think, looking back, that my little brother is what started my resentment,” he says, his voice muffled, his breath warm against my skin.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Mother had a difficult pregnancy. Losing the boy depressed her. Eventually, though, it was over. She had a healthy girl. Both Quotas were met. Three months later, when all of the baby’s tests came back clean, she was Insured."

There is something flat about his voice that makes me nervous. Almost as if he is deliberately pushing back his emotions. I stroke back his hair and force myself to whisper, "Tell me.”

"She was Insured to a med tech from Franco,” he says.

Franco is a large City, one of the largest—half of the ruling Commission resides there. It is also on the west side of the continent, sandwiched between the ocean and mountains. Being Insured to a med tech there was an honor, but a dubious one—she would never see her family again.

I stay silent, waiting. "I knew it, you know? I knew she would be leaving. And for a long time, I tried to stay distant. Why get close to someone who would be gone so soon? He was older than her but a perfect genetic match. I
knew
she’d leave. It would have been easier if it had been anyone but Gali."

I gasp. I can't help it. He looks up at me with a bittersweet smile. "Yes. She's my sister."

"How did you end up here?" I demand, and this time, my voice is shaking.

He sits up, exhausted. "Some of it, I can't tell you. It's her story. And she has the right to tell you what she wants to of it." I don't like it, but there is nothing I can say to argue with him, so I nod. "When she was about ten, word spread through her study class about her Insurance. Growing up with Insurance, it’s normal to banter about it—it's common to taunt others if you have a particularly prestigious Insured. And then, if you are Insured to the boy next door, it's natural to be close to them," he explains. “But the children were horrible. They told her Jevon—our father—hated her and had pulled strings to have her sent so far away. They told her that when her Insured saw her, she would have no hope of making her Quota, she was so ugly. It was right after Jevon left our mother for his lover, and it hit Gali hard—especially since he had opted to leave Gali with us, rather than take her.”

The rage filling his voice would scare me—except that I feel the same anger. This is how Citizens live? They’re cruel! I hate them for hurting Gali. I hate the City for allowing it to happen. It is the antithesis to how we live in the Manor—yes, there is natural rivalry, and the occasional spiteful comment, but we
care
about each other, protect each other.

“I
tried
. I tried so hard not to care about her. But no one did—even Mother was distant. We all knew where she was going, knew how hard it would be to lose her. She came home crying, every day. And every day, we left her alone in her room. Just—one day, I couldn’t listen to it anymore. I went to her room, and just held her,” he says it so softly, almost as if he can’t quite believe himself what happened. “It is amazing, what a little love will do. Overnight, she turned from moody and difficult to a sweet, loving child desperate to please.”

I want to stop him. I want that to be it. I want their story—someone’s story—to end well. But the evidence is sitting next to me, and I am not so naïve as to believe that happy endings exist. I have never believed that.

“A year later, I went to the Keepers. By then, we were inseparable. Gali struggled when I was gone. She took to coming to the compound where I trained. And that’s where the trouble came in.”

“It wasn't bad, at first. A little harmless flirting. Gali knew the consequences of sex—and as much as both of us hated the idea of her leaving, the fact remained she was given a very prestigious Insured. To throw it away on a meaningless attraction with one of my squad mates was not in any of our plans."

"What happened?" I ask again.

He sits up, closing himself off from me. "After maybe three months, she quit coming to the compound. She didn't say why—refused to. She just... stopped. I thought she was upset with me and I left her alone.” He offers me a weak, sick smile. "I still haven't fully forgiven myself for that."

He takes a deep breath. "I didn't really figure things out until my commander said something. I had noticed him watching her, of course. Everyone had, I think. But Gali was a beautiful girl—still is. So I dismissed it. Until the night Teegan and I got drunk together. He wanted to know where she'd been." He takes a deep breath, and it shudders out of him. "I complained. I told him she was being difficult, sulky—a woman. I told him that I was glad she was leaving the City soon.

"And he laughed. He told me about finding her in my barracks. About how she'd been sad, and he'd tried to cheer her. He made it seem like the sex was meaningless and consensual—that she was staying away because she was ashamed of how I would see her if I knew she'd slept with half of my patrol."

His eyes, when they finally meet mine, are hard. Unflinching. "He lied."

I know enough of his personality to know it would enrage him. An assault on his sister—it was hardly something he would let pass without some comment. I shiver.

"When I finally dragged the truth from Gali, I couldn't decide if I was furious or ashamed. That I believed him in the first place—" he breaks off, shaking his head in disgust.

I reach for him, and a sigh slips from him as I hold his hand, “You didn't know, Arjun."

"But that's the thing. I did. I know my sister—and what Teegan accused? That's just not her. She begged me not to say anything. She wasn't pregnant; she could escape this with no consequences—and I was so close to finishing my training. I'd serve out my rotation with the Keepers. It would be over."

He pauses, as if waiting for me to respond. When I don't, he says, "I waited until we were Outside. Running a routine patrol—just Teegan and my unit. And while we were sparring before dinner, the third night, I attacked him. He didn't expect it, and I think that's what made it worse. He was humiliated." There is a smile playing on his lips that chills me—it is remote, brutal. There is nothing remotely human in that smile. "I broke his ribs, dislocated his shoulder, and burned his face—not even the med techs were able to fix it. I shattered one of his legs."

"I made him an example—no one would ever touch my sister again. Problem was, Teegan’s father was an advisor to the Prince. He used his connections to ensure that I would be Stripped—me and Gali."

I knew it was coming, and yet it still hit me like a blow. That the Commission would be so merciless seems impossible. And wrong. “Seeing us die Outside was not enough for his father. Not when his son was crippled and lost his own Quota. He sent us both to the geneticist," he says, bitterly.