Green Jack (19 page)

Still, she
couldn’t deny that she felt lighter, like pollen, but also more
grounded and energized. As if she had roots that stretched down
into the earth, feeding her whatever it was trees and plants fed
on. Sunlight filtered through the branches, dappling everything it
touched. A honeybee flew passed, drowsy and drunk with flower wine.
Saffron stared at it.

Jane stopped a
few feet ahead and looked over her shoulder. “What is it?”

“I’ve never
seen a bee before,” Saffron replied, feeling reverent despite her
very irreverent self. Maybe the leaf mask was already changing her.
She wasn’t sure she liked the thought.

Jane cupped her
left hand over her right fist and lifted them briefly to her
forehead. “It’s how the bee-priestesses greet a honeybee.”

“Oh.” No leaf
mask in the world was going to change her enough to have her
genuflecting to a bee, no matter the strange peace she felt. She
watched it hover over a yellow weed before flying away.

They followed
whatever symbols Jane read in the shadows and the pollen and the
flight of crows. Jane spotted the first mask, tied around the trunk
of a maple tree, at eye level. The leaves were carved, gilded wood,
and clay, pointing the way. “Another trap,” Saffron decided
immediately, even as a thistle bent from her hair to touch a carved
lily. The wooden mouth laughed at her.

More and more
masks led them on, until it was as though a hundred eyes watched
them. Some were delicate, others rough-hewn, more of a suggestion
than a depiction. “It’s beautiful,” Jane said softly.

Right before
someone dropped out of a tree and knocked her on her ass.

Saffron counted
three men and two women, but there could be dozens more behind the
branches. They carried bows on their backs and daggers on their
belts. Saffron was both fiercely envious and fiercely pissed
off.

“Get off of
her!” She shoved the guy standing over Jane so hard he stumbled.
She heard the sound of edged metal scraping out of scabbards as he
grabbed the front of her shirt. Burrs scraped at his hand. He
released her almost as quickly as he’d grabbed her, and the
expression on his face was such a combination of shock and
confusion it was nearly comical. But fast as a storm cloud, it went
back to cocky poorly-restrained violence. That, at least, she
understood.

The others
lowered their weapons. Saffron reached down to help Jane to her
feet. “Are you with the Greencoats?” Jane asked.

“Of course,” he
smirked. “I’m their leader. Roarke. You need a better guard,” he
jerked his head in Jane’s direction. “She’s weak.”

Jane didn’t say
anything. It made Saffron as angry as the insult did. “She’s fine,”
she snapped. Roarke swung out, knocking Jane back. Saffron hooked
her leg around his ankle and tossed him into the air. “Leave her
be.”

He flipped to
his feet, showing off. “She’s meant to protect you, not you protect
her.”

“She saved my
life,” Saffron retorted. “Twice. So back the hell off.”

“Saffron, don’t
bother,” Jane said quietly.

“And she’s an
Oracle.” She never thought she’d see the day where she not only
defended a girl from the Enclave, but she used a Collegium title to
prove her point. The others threw curious glances at Jane and she
flushed. Roarke kept his eyes on Saffron. She raised her eyebrows
in challenge.

The side of his
mouth quirked up in a half-smile. “Come on,” he said. “We’ll take
you to the camp and get you sorted out.”

“So you really
are Greencoats?” Jane asked, falling into step with Saffron. She
clearly didn’t know how to hold a grudge. Saffron would have to
teach her.

Roarke turned
his arm out. The left was clasped with a leather archer’s bracer,
the right tattooed with a Green Jack tattoo. “I’m not sure that
proves anything,” Saffron said drily.

He shrugged one
shoulder. “I guess you’ll just have to brave.”

She bared her
teeth. He laughed. Her legs and feet were tired from walking so
much in combat boots. She was painfully aware of every sound. She
tried to memorize the route they took but all the trees started to
look the same. She couldn’t help but feel more caged than
safeguarded as the others closed in, obviously in formation.

“This was
definitely a bad idea.”

Chapter
30

Jane

With Saffron
and Roarke already striking sparks off each other, Jane was able to
fade into the background and observe. They went deeper into the
forest, the leaves rustling in some secret language around them.
She tried to read patterns in the branches, the sound of birds, the
dapple of sunlight—but with no success. There was both too much and
too little to see.

They finally
came to a compound built on a small lake. It must have originally
been a campground or a resort; there were wooden cabins and a main
octagonal hall. A faded broken sign read Arowhon Pines. People
emerged from the buildings and along the rocky beach. “Got
ourselves a new Green Jill,” Roarke announced. “A mouthy one.”

The answering
murmurs were both curious and curiously respectful. They glanced at
Saffron, then to a man standing on the nearby porch. He was older,
with dark blond hair. His hair was scruffy, his stance calm. If
Roarke was the leader, Jane wondered why everyone was looking at
him as if waiting for some kind of sign.

No one noticed
her noticing. Except him. She wasn’t accustomed to that. He leapt
over the porch railing, stalking towards her without a word. Jane
glanced behind her, expecting danger, but there was nothing there.
She backed away from the intensity of his approach, but he was
faster, closing the distance between them. She recognized the blue
eyes from her omens. Too late, she wondered if they’d been a guide
or a warning.

He had taken
one of the daggers from his belt and she hadn’t seen him do it,
even staring at him as she was. His blue eyes pinned her, trapped
her. She remembered every horror story she’d ever heard about the
Greencoats. Adrenaline spiked like rose thorns. Before she could
bump into the tree behind her, he spun her around and pressed her
cheek to the mossy bark. She struggled but he was stronger, faster.
Saffron shouted something foul but Roarke held her back. She drove
her head back into his face, cracking his nose.

“Easy,” the man
said to Jane.

Right before he
stabbed her.

He dragged the
tip of his dagger over her numina mark. Pain bit deep but brief.
Hot blood trickled down her neck and onto her collar as he let her
go. She turned around, wide-eyed, pressing a hand to the small
wound.

“What the
jacking hell?” Saffron demanded.

Roarke held his
nose and spat blood. “That one’s not even a fighter. This one’s the
one to watch.”

“Actually,
she’s the most dangerous one here,” Caradoc insisted quietly,
wiping his blade clean before sheathing it.

A small
incredulous laugh burst out of Jane. “You must have me confused
with somebody else.”

“Sweetheart,
that tattoo bound you to the Collegium. They use it to track numina
and their powers. If you have more than the usual, you get sick.
It’s an early warning system. If they tattooed you, they’d have
been watching you. Might still, if you’re a spy.”

“I’m not a
spy.”

“I wouldn’t
expect a spy to say otherwise.”

Jane thought of
the countless times she’d knelt to show her mark during safety
drills, Saffron’s reaction to her tag, Cartimandua asking about her
headaches, and inspecting her tattoo at the parapet.

And then her
head was a crucible of fire, a winter cave full of teeth. She knew
her eyes were open but she didn’t see Caradoc or Saffron, nor the
trees or the water. Omens strobed like lightning, electricity
coursing through her after every flash.

Houses in the
amphitheatre, a burst of wind and fire through the trees, a dock
splintering. More red dust on rooftops.

When she came
back to herself, she was slumped at the base of the tree, Caradoc
crouching next to her. “You’re alright now.”

Jane pressed on
her temples to stop the residual throbbing. “What happened?”

“I busted the
lock,” Caradoc replied, straightening.

“It can’t be
that easy.”

He shrugged.
“They see your mark often enough to know if it’s been tampered
with.” His voice carried effortlessly, or maybe it was just that
everyone was accustomed to listening to him. “Take a walk,” he told
the others and they scattered, however reluctantly.

“I didn’t know
they were crazy,” Roarke apologized to Caradoc. “Green Jill here is
all thistles and prickles.”

“Aw,” Saffron
bared her teeth. “Thank you.”

“You have a
hell of a way to ask for help.” Caradoc commented.

Saffron looked
slightly abashed. Her words, however, didn’t reflect her sudden
awkwardness. “You have hell of a welcome,” she returned.

He grinned
suddenly, and Jane couldn’t help but stare. Her head was empty of
omens and electricity, but she still felt this was something worth
paying attention to. He climbed the creaky wooden steps to the
porch without a backward glance. Saffron looked at Roarke
expectantly, but Jane couldn’t stop looking at Caradoc. His smile
turned soft, amused.

“You’re the
actual leader, aren’t you?” She asked to cover her foolishness. She
didn’t know anything about him really, except that he’d stabbed
her.

Saffron
narrowed her eyes, cursed. “Of course you are.”

Roarke scowled.
“Hey.”

Caradoc propped
his boots up on the rail. “I’m a Greencoat, just like the others,”
he said. “But it could be I’ve been here the longest.”

“How did you
know about the Numina mark?” Jane asked.

“My job to
know.” He reached into a trunk beside his chair, and pulled out a
small red plastic first aid kit. “Bandages in there,” he tossed it
to her.

“I have my own
kit,” Jane said reaching into her pocket.

“Fine,” Caradoc
turned his attention to Saffron. “Haven’t had a new Green Jill in a
while.”

“Is that good
or bad?” Saffron asked.

He shrugged.
“Just is.”

“I didn’t ask
for this,” Saffron pointed out defensively. “I don’t want it.”

Caradoc
shrugged again. “The mask doesn’t care.”

“Did you kill
the last Jack who wore it?” Roarke asked.

“No,” she
snapped. “I didn’t kill him. He tried to jump the Wall like an
idiot.”

“And now you’re
here,” Caradoc said. “We protect Green Jacks. We’ve all sworn
oaths, but if you stay, there are still rules. Jill or not.”

“Like what?”
Saffron demanded suspiciously. She was prickly and nervous, like a
porcupine. Jane felt more certain now that they were talking rules.
She liked to know what was expected of her, and how to stay
invisible depended too often on following the rules.

“Common sense,”
Caradoc explained. There were daggers on his belt, in his boots,
tucked under his sleeve.

Saffron eyed
him enviously. “Don’t tell me not allowed a weapon.”

Roarke smirked.
“Don’t worry, we’ll protect you.”

Jane had to
hand it to him. In less than a half hour he had figured out exactly
how to needle Saffron. But when Caradoc flicked him a mild glance,
he subsided. “You can have as many knives as you’d like,” Caradoc
assured her.

“Thank you,”
Saffron beamed at him, a bright young smile, not like her usual
sarcastic grin.

“Can you teach
her about the leaf mask?” Jane asked quietly. It occurred to her
that Saffron would stay, and she would have to go. She had nothing
to offer, no reason to be here. She’d run away from home, with no
real destination beyond “away”. And now Saffron didn’t need her,
not anymore. The pink moon had led her to Saffron but no further.
And Caradoc was right to wonder if she was a spy. Why trust
her?

“We can,”
Caradoc confirmed. “More importantly the forest will teach
her.”

“Good. May I
stay the night? I’ll leave in the morning.” It would give her time
to rest, to read the omens, assuming there were any. Maybe she
could convince one of the farm domes that she’s been sent as a
numina. If they didn’t recognize her from the Garden. She didn’t
think they got that many shows up here, even Directorate ones. Or
maybe she could live on the edge of the forest instead, staying out
of the way. And trying not to get blown up. As far as plans went,
it clearly needed work.

“Where would
you even go?” Saffron asked. “You’ll get eaten alive out there.
Assuming we’re not shacking up with cannibals in here too.”

“The moon led
me to you to keep you safe,” Jane said. “And now you’re safe.”

“Maybe it led
you to me to keep you safe too. Ever think of that? You’re not
leaving.” She glowered at Caradoc and Roarke. “She’s not leaving.
And she’d not a jacking spy.”

“I’m not a Jill
either,” Jane pointed out. She tried not to flush, embarrassed.
“And I’m not a guard.”

“You’re an
Oracle,” Saffron said. “And he doesn’t really think you’re a spy.
If he did, he’d have killed you already.”

Caradoc didn’t
correct her.

“And anyway,
your omens already saved me. They can save the others too. ”

Caradoc
inclined his head. “Possibly. You’ll need to control it, now that
the eye is closed.”

She touched the
bandage, hope and anxiety swirling in her belly. Saffron looked
smug. “So it’s settled. You’re not a spy and you’re not
leaving.”

Caradoc turned
away, losing interest. “Take our Jill to the Mother Tree, Roarke.
If she survives, they can stay.”