Green Jack (3 page)

“We must never
be seen to be weak.” Cartimandua added, her voice reaching every
corner of the auditorium, even though her tone was soft as water.
Jane shivered, imagining monsoons, floods, tsunamis. “We must make
the hard decisions, for if not us, then who?” She looked at the
huddle of confused students, taking the time to meet each of their
eyes. “And you will help us.”

A young man
with a scar on his face entered the auditorium. He wore leather
straps across his chest bristling with knives. The woman who
followed had a shaved head tattooed with oak leaves, two short
swords and small round shield painted with a Green Jack’s face,
sharp leaves exploding out of his mouth. They stepped over the
ropes and bowed to Cartimandua.

“Begin.”

They erupted
into violence. He was strong and flexible, she was fast and
vicious. He got the first hit, slashing across her arm with his
dagger. The leather of her bracer split but she was already moving.
Instead of whirling away as Jane expected, she closed in, ducking
under his arm. She smashed her palm into his sternum, then his
throat. He punched her in the kidney and she fell to one knee,
using her new vantage point to slice her sword across his Achilles’
tendon. His scream turned into a gurgle of blood when her second
sword severed his trachea. He died coughing and twitching while the
administrators watched him dispassionately and Jane tried not to
throw up. Someone gasped. Jane wasn’t sure if the sound had come
from her own mouth.

It happened so
quickly she barely had time to wonder if she should do something,
never mind try to figure out what that might be. An hour ago she’d
been complaining about strawberries and now there was a boy dead on
the floor. The students stood frozen together, except for Asher
staring at the girl with a sick, interested smile.

She bowed to
Cartimandua again before marching away without a backward glance at
the audience or the dead boy. When the soldiers dragged the body
away, smearing blood over the tiles, Jane had to clench her teeth
against the bile burning in her throat.

“We all have
different gifts,” Cartimandua said. “This man gave up his life to
test his strength for the good of us all. What will you give up?”
At her gesture, two students were pushed into the roped off area.
“Only one of you walks away.”

They looked as
confused as Jane felt. Cartimandua just looked impatient. A soldier
tasered one of the students dropped, gasping. Cartimandua gave her
a moment to recover. “I said, only one of you walks away.
Fight.”

Jane’s heart
was racing. What had her mother gotten her into to? Portia was the
one who wanted intrigue and power. Jane just wanted to run. She
didn’t know anything about fighting. She was good at running on the
tracks, good enough with a crossbow but everyone was. It was
mandatory training to help guard the parapet. She drank star anise
tea for the omens, read books, tried to avoid her mother----

And she was
next.

“But I’m not
a---.”

Asher had
already punched her. She staggered back, tasting blood. Only the
fact that she’d been fighting numen headaches for the last few
weeks helped her stay on her feet. Asher smirked, enjoying himself.
When she tried to punch him back he easily avoided her, stepping
aside and then ramming his elbow into her spine. She landed hard,
her knees cracking on the floor.

She
concentrated on ducking and dodging. She slipped on someone else’s
blood and that time, she didn’t get up again. Asher fisted his hand
in her hair, lifting her head back. When Cartimandua snapped her
fingers, he let go so fast Jane couldn’t catch herself. She had to
crawl to the sidelines to get out of the way of the next match.

When it was
over, they were battered and bloody but no better informed.

“Disappointing.” Cartimandua marched along the line of students,
blood under her boots. “This is the problem,” she continued as
someone behind Jane began to weep. “No matter what we do, it isn’t
enough. Not with rebels taking out Taggers and Greencoats stealing
Green Jacks and too many ungrateful people to feed.”

She stopped,
pointing at a student. “Amphitheatre.” A clerk behind her began to
take notes. “Garden, garden, second trials. Amphitheatre.” She
flicked a glance over Jane’s bruised face. “Garden. Really, I
expected more from the children of the Enclave. You’ll have to do
better.”

“I’m sure it
goes without saying that we demand your utmost discretion. Should
you speak to anyone about this, anyone at all without clearance,
the consequences will be swift and brutal.”

There was
nothing left to say.

Jane knew
exactly what a fly felt like, wrapped in invisible threads
impossible to cut.

“You are
dismissed.”

Chapter 5

Saffron

Saffron let
herself into the apartment, tossing her jacket at a hook. When the
sleeve fell over the camera set into the wall, the resulting alarm
shrieked at her. The deadbolt on the door slammed shut in warning.
Cursing, Saffron tugged the sleeve aside and the alarm died
instantly. “
Thank you for your cooperation.”

“Bite me,” she
enunciated very clearly at the Directorate-issued camera. The
deadbolt slid free. “I don’t know where they think we could even
hide rebels or Greencoats,” she muttered at Killian who had burst
into the hall from his room. “It’s not like there’s any space in
here.”

He just
shrugged. Saffron had known him for years but she’d never heard the
sound of his voice. Despite that, they never had a problem
communicating. But before she could tell him about the leaf mask,
the front doors slammed open. “Hey, little brother!”

Killian’s
expression went carefully blank. Haruki and Mason were full of
swagger and cheap wine, as usual. Haruki was unfairly beautiful,
all angular lines and dark eyes. He was one of the beautiful people
handing out Gingerbread in the Rings. Gingerbread was just another
shiny distraction to keep Elysians from crossing out of the Core:
entertainment, food, bright lights were usually enough to convince
a person it wasn’t so bad after all on this side of the Wall. And
Haruki took as much as he sold. Even now, his pupils were dilated,
his smile slightly strange. Gingerbread made you docile. It painted
the city in pretty colours, fattening you up like Hansel and Gretel
at the mouth of the oven.

“There’s a Jack
loose in the City,” Mason said. “And we mean to run him to
ground.”

“Good for you,
don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out,” Saffron said
as Haruki pulled weapons from their room.

“Saffron, how
come you never spread---“

Killian pushed
past her. Before she could grab him, Mason had already dodged his
punch and returned with his own. Mason struck him again, in the
kidney this time, until he doubled in pain. They had no reason to
hate him, they just did. Killian on the other hand had every reason
to hate them, and he didn’t. At least not as much as Saffron
did.

“Get off him!”
she yelled, elbowing Mason in the ear as hard as she could. He
grunted, letting go of Killian.

“You little
bitch…” He lunged for her but Killian shoved his foot out, tripping
him.

“Boys,” Papu
coughed from his bed under the window. He’d moved in soon after the
City had been closed. Oona was born in this building, back when it
had working elevators and electricity. Now it was just one more
high-rise lit by candles and chemical sunsticks. Solar generators
were rare and expensive. She was just glad they lived on the third
floor. Mrs. Fieldman lived on the thirty-second floor and hadn’t
left her flat in years.

Mason grabbed
Killian again, twisting his arm behind his back at a violent angle.
If Mason pulled any harder, he’d break Killian’s arm. Again.

Saffron reached
for the dagger in her boot. Haruki was faster, smashing her in the
shoulder. Her arm went numb and the dagger clattered to the floor.
She launched into a forward roll that brought her to the brothers’
packs. She pulled a lighter from her pocket.

“Hey! Morons!”
She held the flame under one of the packs. The fire licked at the
canvas, scorching it black. “Hard to get the bounty on the Jack if
I burn all your pretty toys.” She probably couldn’t do much damage
to any weapons inside, but food rations and hunter’s pardon notes
were susceptible. And they were necessary.

Mason and
Haruki froze. “Don’t you dare,” Mason ground out.

She smiled,
holding the flame closer. “You let Killian go and then you get the
hell out of here. I’ll toss your things out into the hall after
you. That’s the deal.”

“Your
girlfriend’s still fighting your battles, little brother.”

“Yeah, it’s
called having someone to watch your back, jackass,” Saffron shot
back. The fire was eating a hole through the canvas.

Mason shoved
Killian away. “This isn’t over, Saffron. Live in fear.”

“Just as soon
as you become scary, I might. Now run along, boys.”Black smoke
lifted off the packs. “Or did you want to talk some more? I think I
smell some protein bars cooking.”

Mason swore. He
jerked his head in Haruki’s direction. “Let’s go before someone
else claims the bounty.”

Saffron waited
until they were out in the hall. “Good boy,” she said mockingly,
before tossing the packs out and slamming the door shut. She locked
both deadbolts. Killian pushed to his knees. He’d already cracked
his nose back into place. His mother watched silently from the
doorway to their room, wringing her hands. Sometimes, Saffron hated
her as much as she hated his brothers.

She crawled out
onto the fire escape, away from the Directorate monitors and alarms
and Killian’s mother’s sad, pathetic eyes. Killian followed, moving
gingerly. “I really hate your brothers,” she said. She massaged the
back of her head where Haruki had yanked some of her hair out.
Killian’s sister had joined the Protectorate, mostly to escape
them. Saffron wished Killian had somewhere to go too.

She dropped her
voice so that it was barely a whisper. “I found a leaf mask,” she
mouthed.

Killian stared
at her for a long startled moment. He waited, one eyebrow raised.
Hour long speeches by government officials trained in rhetoric had
said less.

“I found it,”
she said defensively, even though he technically hadn’t accused her
of anything. “By the Wall. That’s who your brothers are
chasing.”

He touched his
eye, then pointed at her.

“I hid it
already.” She’d buried it in her secret balcony garden across the
street, in a potato pot too heavy to move. It was nearly impossible
to get to; she had to cross an old rope bridge no one bothered to
use anymore. It was more difficult in the rain, but not impossible.
And overall, it was just crazy enough that no one would think to
look up here, even when chasing a fugitive Green Jack. Especially
since the ropes only led to a building smudged with black smoke
from a fire that had eaten through the centre. The stairs there
were beyond repair and they used to dare each other to leap from
the edges of what remained. Killian always went the highest, even
when they played with the older kids. Oona said everyone had
demons, except for Saffron because she was a one.

He stared at
her intently.

“I’m always
careful,” she said.

He didn’t need
words to tell her what he thought of that.

They watched
the clouds chase each other, reflecting the multi-coloured lights
from the Rings. For a while, Saffron could almost forget what
stretched around them, alleys and soldiers and guns. She thought
about the leaf mask and what exactly she was supposed to do with
it. Taking it had been an impulse; keeping it would require serious
planning.

The sound of
rain pattering on the metal fire escape was replaced with the
sounds of a fight. She sighed, rolling to her feet. “Welcome to
Elysium City.”

Killian joined
her at the edge of the balcony, scanning the area. In the mouth of
the alley, two Taggers surrounded a skinny boy with spiky blue
hair. She recognized him from the sideshow. She’d busted him twice
for trying to sneak in. She thought his name was Aaron.

“Are you
tagged? Roll up your sleeve.”

“Got to hell,”
Aaron sneered.

The
tranquilizer dart hit him in the thigh. He plucked at it
frantically, but it was too late. Apartment windows slammed shut
all around them. He blinked, disoriented. The sedative was already
seeping into his bloodstream. The second Tagger tied Aaron’s hands,
annoyed that he hadn’t just cooperated. Killian shifted.

“Don’t,”
Saffron said tightly, knowing exactly what he was thinking.
“They’ll just tag you too.” Killian looked frustrated. “You know
they will,” she insisted. “Anyway, do you think he’d help----.” She
cut herself off when an arrow sliced between Aaron and the Taggers,
leaving a burn of blood and torn leather on a Tagger’s
shoulder.

“The rebels,”
Saffron muttered, recognized the signature green fletching on the
arrow. “Unbelievable. Where were they an hour ago?”

Killian just
shot her a speaking glance and went back to watching an older man
and a girl with enough resemblance to be his daughter shoot out of
the alley. She carried a smirk and a sword. She cut through Aaron’s
ropes even as her father knocked one of the Taggers into the mud
with one blow. His companion clicked on his taser, blue lighting
hissing.

“Son, don’t be
any stupider than you have to be.” The rebel hit him in the throat
so fast Saffron barely saw the blow. The Tagger jerked back and
slumped unconscious at his feet.