Marie's Journey (Ginecean Chronicles) (4 page)

“No, thanks—” Something moved under the archway and Marie jumped.

“What is it?” Verena put her body before Marie’s in a protective, bigger-sister way. “Is anybody there?” She walked closer to the archway where the sound had originated. “I don’t have time for stupid pranks. Come out.”

“People do this kind of thing here?”

“Pranks?”

Marie nodded. “Yes, pranks.”

“All the time.”

Marie shivered at the idea. She hated pranks. Especially if they were aimed to scare the unfortunate recipient.

“Maybe it was a rat.” Verena made sign to go farther inside.

“A rat?” Marie didn’t follow her. Darkness and scurrying rodents weren’t a combination she liked.

“Probably. That’s another entry to the cellars.” Verena disappeared, wrapped by the shadows.

Marie stood, certain she didn’t want to go any closer to the archway, but not happy to be left there outside all by herself. A few seconds later, she heard the distinct click of an opening locket and Verena’s disembodied voice calling her.

“Why are we going there?” Marie asked to the archway.

“Got a surprise for you.” Verena reemerged from the shadows, empty hand outstretched, a big smile on her face.

“Are we going to get in trouble?” Marie couldn’t believe that sentence had escaped her mouth. Until a day ago, she would’ve been the one looking for trouble. She cursed, appalled at her own thoughts, and took Verena’s hand.
I’ve been here less than three days for the Goddess’s sake.

“If we’re caught.”

Marie felt the dare in Verena’s words and stepped into the darkness, angry with herself for looking like a coward.

“Thought so.”

Marie felt overly pleased by Verena’s approval, but when the door was closed behind her and not a single ray of flickering light illuminated her steps, she gasped. The humidity pressed against her skin like a wet cloth.

“Are you nyctophobic by any chance?”

“Am I a nycto… what?” Marie had never heard the word. She wasn’t even sure she could repeat it. Verena’s status grew in her mind.
She’s one smart cookie.

“Are you afraid of the dark?”

Marie appreciated that Verena didn’t make her feel an idiot by repeating the question in words she could understand. “No, I’m not,” she lied.
So that’s what it is.

“Nyctophobia is a common fear.”

“Which I don’t have.” Marie reached to the side with her palm outstretched, looking for the safety of the wall to guide her. “How do you even know that word?”

“Redfarm has a well-stocked medical library and I like to read in my spare time.” Verena shrugged. “Be careful now. We’re going two floors down. Give me your hand and follow me.”

Is all of this really necessary? And what happened to, “You don’t want to miss the stories…?”
Marie was regretting coming.
She needs a straightjacket. Smart, but still crazy. What fun is it to blindly break your neck while falling down a flight of stairs?
She slipped once or twice on the dew-coated steps. Although the temperature steadily decreased as they descended, she was feeling warmer. Or maybe it was her heart beating so fast. She couldn’t be sure.

“Almost there.”

“There, where?” The flat sole of her leather sandal slipped once more, unbalancing her.

“Easy.” Verena’s strong arms caught her before she could fall. “Behind the cellars is the Apothecary.”

Marie knew that word. They had an apothecary at the Institute where Madame Carla prepared the concoctions to treat the small ailments plaguing the girls monthly. The rector never gave them medicines unless necessary.
More side effects than benefits,
the stern woman used to say. “I like apothecaries.”

“Oh, you’ll love this one.” Verena stopped and released her hand. “Just a sec.”

Marie didn’t move. She kept her body at an angle so she was still touching Verena, if only by the hem of her shirt. She didn’t want the girl to think less of her, but she couldn’t stand the darkness and the humidity anymore.

“The Redfarm Apothecary,” Verena announced as a room appeared behind the door she had opened.

The light inside wasn’t bright, but compared to the obscurity, it was a relief. Marie entered the room and looked around, eyes wide in wonder. This apothecary was different than she had expected. It had the same good smell of lavender and roses she associated with that kind of place, but here, the bouquet was richer. Her nose high in the air, and she walked around, sniffing the scents. “What kind of medicines do you make here?” She lingered close to a table where petals of flowers she didn’t recognize had been laid to dry. The perfume was sweet with a hint of citrus. Her fingers traveled to the table to grab a handful.

“No medicines. We make perfumes at Redfarm.”

“But what about the name?” She crushed the fragrant petal between index and thumb and then brought the powder to her nose. “Love this smell.”

“Jasmine.” Verena mimed what Marie had just done, and at her puzzled look, Verena explained, “Jasmine is the name of the flower. This place is called the Apothecary because it was one a long time ago. Nobody needs homemade medicines anymore, but the room was already here. Why not use it? The name remained. They tried to call it the Perfumery, but it didn’t stick.”

Marie wandered toward the end of the room, only to see the Apothecary was bigger than she had thought; branching from the main room were several smaller rooms opening to a narrow hallway that curved, hiding what lay beyond its cream wall. Curiosity won and she was attracted by the fragrant smell coming from around the corner. Soft murmurs caught her attention. She turned toward the noise and almost stumbled at the unexpected sight. She brought a hand to her mouth and backed against the wall, unable to leave. There was a woman and a man hugging in the darkness of one of the small rooms. Marie kept her body at an angle, confident they couldn’t see her, busy as they were kissing. She was horrified the woman wasn’t struggling to free herself from the man’s clutches. Instead, she leaned against him, gluing her body to his.

A hand gently tapped on her shoulder and Marie turned to face Verena, who brought a finger to her lips and shot Marie a warning look. “Let’s get out of here,” Verena whispered in her ear and took her by the elbow.

Marie stepped back and turned to face the hallway when the couple moved. The woman’s head was under the light for a moment. A glimpse of deep red. “But, it’s—”

“Don’t say it.” Verena pulled her away.

Marie freed herself from Verena’s grip but followed her.
I can’t believe Carnia is a man lover.
She turned at the last moment and saw the man looking at her. A flash of green eyes.
Grant?
After an impatient tug from Verena, she unfroze. They were back into the main room in no time. Marie’s heart was beating as if she had run a marathon. She felt dizzy and her mind kept playing the scene she had witnessed, making it impossible for her to concentrate on what Verena was saying.

“You aren’t going to say anything to anybody. Do you understand?” Verena shook Marie with both hands on her shoulders. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yes, I’m not to say anything to any living soul.” Marie looked at Verena, but didn’t see her. “Why?”

“Because I say so.” Verena accompanied her to the door and out of the Apothecary. They ascended the dark staircase fast, not speaking a word.

“Carnia—” Marie started, unable to let the argument go without an explanation. She needed to talk about it.

“Carnia nothing.” Verena led them back to the courtyard, her voice betraying how upset she was.

“But don’t we have to report her to Madame Lana?” Marie couldn’t help but look back at the dark archway, but nobody came after them.

“Carnia’s dead if you report her. Do you understand?” Verena stopped several steps away from the gazebo and kept her voice low. Applause drowned out her voice.

“Dead?” Marie looked at the crowd cheering for an encore.

“Worse than dead. If Madame Lana gets wind of it, Carnia will be sent to a waste plant.” Verena’s eyes were imploring Marie and she felt horrible.

“A waste plant?” She couldn’t believe her ears.

“Yes, she would become a wasted woman.”

Marie felt sick at the mere idea of condemning someone to that fate. Women sent to waste plants were called
wasted
, marked with serial numbers on their arms like the men, and forced to live away from civilization. They lost contact with the rest of the world and died there, forgotten. Even their families gave them up for dead once sentenced to serve in a waste plant. “I won’t say anything.”

Verena nodded at her words.

“What are you doing there? Come here!” Cina called them from under the gazebo, bright eyes and a big smile on her face. “You missed the best already. Come on.”

“Don’t worry,” Marie said to Verena and then went to join the rest of the crowd.

Cina and Laila moved out of the way to make space for the two of them and Marie resigned herself to stay until the very end of the night, although the only desire she had was to climb four flights of stairs and jump in her bed. She laughed, gasped, and cried with everybody else, but her mind wasn’t there. Verena kept sending her glances, but Marie couldn’t meet her eyes.

Once back in her room, Marie undressed facing the wall, avoiding Verena. She wanted to ask if those kinds of things happened often at Redfarm and if she knew of anybody who’d been caught and sent to a waste plant. But she didn’t. Somehow, just asking seemed inappropriate and Madame Carla had raised her right. She wasn’t that kind of girl. “I need a shower.”

“Now? Weren’t you just too tired to hang with the girls after the stories?” Verena repeated what she had just told Cina and Laila when they had asked if they wanted to join them for a late snack down in the kitchen. Apparently, it was something they did often after those celebrations.

Marie understood why.
Tomorrow could be the last day at Redfarm for some of them. Tomorrow could be the last day here for Verena.
“You should’ve gone without me.”

“I’m not in the mood.” Verena was at the desk, looking outside at the dark night. The roofs glinted under the moonlight.

Marie saw a tear glide down Verena’s cheek, but the girl didn’t seem to notice it and let it fall on the desk where it landed heavily. Marie decided to follow Verena’s clue and pretended to have seen nothing. “You won’t be picked tomorrow. You’ll see.” She didn’t know why she felt the urge to say something she couldn’t possibly know, but the words were out already.

“Thank you.” Verena turned to face her. “Go take your shower.”

“Are you sure…?” Marie had always been clumsy with words and feelings. Now she felt useless and wanted nothing more than leave. Still, she had a conscience.

“Sure. If you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a few minutes.” Verena’s eyes were already looking for a faraway place outside of the window.

Marie exited the room in silence and went directly to the bathroom, her mind a chaos of discorded thoughts. She wondered what her roommate was thinking. She had never worried about the chance of being a donor. At the Institute, they never talked of such things. The mere topic was considered inappropriate conversation. But here, in the real world, fathered women were used to procreate men—the idea made her shiver, and by association, the recent memory of the intertwined couple popped in uninvited. Or maybe it had been there all along, eager to be acknowledged. She tried to push it away under a jet of cold water, but her body didn’t seem to cool down. She stayed there, blue extremities and racing heart. The way Carnia had leaned against Grant. The man’s bright green eyes. The surprise he showed at seeing her looking at them.

What did you see, Grant?
Did you recognize me?
A strange fluttering broke havoc in her stomach. Marie couldn’t understand why she was asking herself such questions. She couldn’t understand why she recognized him so easily when he should’ve been just a nameless man to her. But as hard as she tried to divert her mind somewhere else, the image of Carnia cradled by Grant’s arms stood before her eyes long after her shower was done. She lay in bed, sleepless for hours. Flustered by the erratic directions her thoughts were heading without her consent, she finally decided to go downstairs and see if anyone was still around. Verena had left while Marie tried to wash away the day’s grime and hadn’t come back. Hoping to find her in the kitchen, Marie put on the first thing she found in the dim illumination provided by the small night-light by the door and went out again.

The stairs were silent. Not a sound echoed from downstairs.
Maybe they’re being quiet.
Madame Lana couldn’t be aware of those impromptu parties. Madame Carla would have never authorized late-hour celebrations. The elders enforced curfew hours with great zeal. Unnerving silence accompanied Marie until she reached the kitchen and she knew before entering that the place was deserted. A single, forgotten lamp barely lit the large room. It scarcely illuminated the corner of the sink and the small area where someone had left a few dishes and mugs to dry. Not sure of what to do, she walked toward it and hit the leg of one of the tables in the middle of the room. The sudden, sharp pain made her curse out loud. Angry tears filled her eyes, but she refused to cry. Instead, she pulled a chair out and sat, head lowered on the unpleasantly cold surface of the table. She had never liked marble. The pure breed cemetery in Trin was filled with rows and rows of marble headstones. It didn’t matter that the different colors or the veins crisscrossing every slate made them different; marble always reminded her of death.

The next morning, the girl on cleaning duty woke her by unceremoniously poking her folded arms with the tip of the broom. “Partying the whole night, useless the day after. Don’t think for a moment you’ll be exempt from your duty.”

“What…?” Marie could barely open her eyes, a series of images still playing in her mind. The girl poked her again viciously and Marie yelped. “No need for that.” She stood up and wobbled on unsteady legs.

“How drunk are you?” The girl looked around, her expression disappointed when she couldn’t find the proof of her suspicion. “I got sorted to clean and
I
miss Donor Day when this idiot gets lucky,” she muttered under her breath.