Memory Girl (20 page)

I look at her curiously, having no idea what she means.

“Apologies if I've confused you,” she says. “What happened yesterday has shaken me. I can't forget the look on Grand Sarwald's face as he collapsed.”

“I can't either,” I admit, although it's not Grand Sarwald I can't forget. It's Nate—his cloak falling back, his shock to see me, and his gaze pulling me in like an undertow.

Lila glances again at the jail, frowning. “We need to protect ourselves from outsiders. Apparently the Gate and Fence aren't enough. The Nocturne's execution will send a strong warning to others like him.”

I shift uneasily. “Has he … um … told anyone why he killed our leader?”

“He hasn't spoken a word.”

I nod, struggling to stay calm. “Has it … the execution … been scheduled?”

She nods. “Two days.”

I can barely breathe. I want to plead with her to save Nate. He may be a killer, but there's good in him too, or he wouldn't have offered to help Petal, or saved me from the vampfish. I owe him my life.

I'm trying hard to hide my emotions, but tears sting my eyes. I turn away.

“What's wrong?” Lila's arm comes around me tenderly. “Is there something you want to tell me?”

“Seeing one death was bad enough ….” My words trail off in a sigh.

“I've never approved of the Leaders' insistence that all citizens witness executions—not that we've had very many. Only three in this century. I would gladly excuse you from going, but I can't interfere in such matters. Don't waste sympathy on our enemy.”

“But he's so young,” I say. “Isn't there a less violent punishment?”

“The laws state that punishments match the crime. You have a kindly heart, Jennza,” she says with a deliberate emphasis on my youth name. “I hope you'll think of me as a friend.”

She leans so close I inhale her flowery perfume, the scent that made me realize she spied on me after the Celebraze. I know I shouldn't trust her, yet she makes me feel valued, as if my thoughts and feeling are important. But why did she show unusual interest in me? Scientists don't notice youths—not without a reason.

I look down to the paveway, where a scraggly weed has broken through a crack in the hard surface. If I told Lila about the conversation I overheard in the Cross cellar, she'd
know Nate didn't act alone. But would she help him?

“Are you afraid of the killer?” Lila asks, mistaking the reason for my silence. “I assure you, there's no way for him to escape.”

“Has anyone ever escaped?” I ask hopefully.

She shakes her silvery head. “Uniforms are posted at all entrances and cells have locked steel doors. The prisoner is in the most secure cell at the far back of the prison. Even if someone tried to help him escape, they'd never get into the jail. So be assured, there won't be any more killings.”

Except Nate's
, I think sadly.

She glances at a time piece on her wrist. “I'm late for an appointment, so I must leave. It's been lovely seeing you, and I promise it won't be the last time. Take care, dear Jennza.” She surprises me by drawing me close in a hug.

Her touch lingers on my shoulders as I watch her leave. She moves in a brisk manner, her head high and her arms swaying at her sides, and I imagine walking beside her on a rocky cliff path.

I should return to the fashionizers. But doing what I should has never interested me. My gaze lifts to the jail.

Nate's in there.

Lila spoke of his cell as inescapable, deep in the prison—as if he's already dead and buried.

An idea jumps into my mind. Crazy. Too risky. I shouldn't even think about it.

But I'm already moving. I make sure no one is watching, then step off the path, ducking into the dense bushes alongside the jail. Shadows swallow me. I have the odd sense of leaving society and entering a wild new world.

Dying leaves crunch beneath my feet, the sound echoing
like thunder. Branches twist and tangle around me. A gnarly branch grabs my hair, pulling painfully as I jerk away. I keep going, slowly. I push away a branch, but when it flings back with thorns as sharp as arrows, I drop to the ground, tasting dirt. I start to rise, but I spot a faint animal trail that disappears beneath the bushes.

Crawling on my hands and knees through the bushes, I feel more animal than human. Sounds fade to my own ragged breathing and the skittering noises of tiny creatures scurrying up branches or down into holes. When I come through the bushes, I blink at the sudden brightness.

I stare at the wild ivy spiraling up the wall. A dark stain of metal bars slashes against the brick building.

Nate's window.

I'm here. Now what?

I imagine Marcus asking, “Why don't you ever think before you act?”

The barred jail window is just beyond my fingertips. Vines twine up the walls like a ladder that would snap under my weight. Aside from the risk of pain and bone breakage, a crash to the ground would alert Uniforms.

There are so many reasons why I should leave. Nate's an enemy of ShareHaven. I saw him holding the blow pipe that struck down Grand Sarwald. I need to know why he did it. But will he tell me the truth?

There's a chill in the air, not from the darkening clouds, but from the jail. As if brick can exhale ice and danger. Worries storm through my mind: What if Nate isn't alone? If the Uniforms find me, what will they do to me?

I bend down, pick up a small rock, and fling it at the barred window. It's swallowed by a maze of vines. I try another rock, throwing it so high it bangs against the window and bounces into the ivy. I jump at the sound, diving back into the leafy shield of bushes.

When it seems safe to step back out into the opening, I search the ground for another rock. I find twigs, thorns and weeds—but not any rocks. I dig into the pocket of my tunic and pull out a patch of red fabric, a dried potato peel (how'd
that get there?), and my star-shaped sand shell. I rub my thumb over my favorite shell before slipping it back into my pocket. Tossing the peel aside, I see an acorn on the ground and grab it. I aim carefully, then throw as hard as I can. The acorn soars through the window.

Muffled sounds echo from inside the jail. I stand alert, ready to move fast if a Uniform comes to the window. There's movement. A figure clasps the bars. Hidden in shadows, I can't see his face.

“Who's there?”

This raspy voice sounds nothing like Nate. Am I at the wrong window? I slip back into the bushes, peering at the figure leaning against the window. Clouds shift; sunlight slices through the bars. The sky reflects sea-blue eyes.

“Is someone there?” Nate rasps again.

His rough hand tightens around the bars. There's a scar from his left thumb to wrist, jagged and deep red like fire burns inside. Infection, I think, angry the health-keepers haven't treated his injury. But I know why and am sickened. Why heal a condemned man? He won't live long enough to die from an infection.

I step out into the light.

“Jennza!” he chokes out.

I nod and say softly, “Nate.”

“I'm hallucinating. You can't be real,” he says shaking his head.

“I am.” I move closer so I'm clearly in his view.

“How did you …? What are you doing here?”

I'm drawn into his gaze and can hardly think or breathe. How can I explain why I'm here when I don't really know? Is it only to satisfy my curiosity, or is it the thrilling rush
I get when I look into his eyes? He makes me feel like I'm teetering on the edge of a cliff, poised to dive into an unfathomable sea. I know he's dangerous, and yet I don't care.

“You're hurt.” I gesture to his purpling bruises.

“Damaged but not dead.” He grimaces. “Yet.”

“So you know you're going to be ….” I stop, unable to finish.

“Executed,” he finishes in an empty voice, as if part of him is already dead.

“I'm so sorry! If I hadn't startled you by calling out your name, you could have escaped.”

“I know what will happen. What I don't know is why you came here.”

“I'm not sure either.” I glance down at scratches on my arm. “I just … um … wanted to see you.”

“Not much to see.”

Wrong
, I think. Even with cuts and bruises, Nate fascinates me. I'm drawn to him in an unexplainable way and could stare into his eyes forever. But only one of us has forever.

“Jennza, it's dangerous for you to be here.” He glances uneasily over his shoulder. “The Uniforms will check on me soon.”

“I can't leave yet. Not without knowing ….”

“What?”

“Why you …” I suck in a deep breath. “Why you killed Grand Sarwald. I saw you holding the pipe and couldn't believe it was you.”

“Believe it,” he says with a bitter edge in his voice. “Killing is what I do.”

“But you saved me in the cave.”

“I killed a bloodsucking fish. That should prove to you I'm violent and not worth your pity.”

“I'm not here because of pity. I want answers.”

He shakes his head. “You're safer not knowing.”

I strain my neck, looking up at him. “You're concerned for my safety? Trying to protect me? That doesn't sound like the behavior of a killer.”

“No person is only one thing.” He sighs. “I'm also a map maker. It's what I have a talent for, and I'm good at it.”

“Leader Cross said you were good at killing. He also said he used you, so I know you didn't act alone. Leader Cross and his group convinced you to do this. But why did you agree? Did they threaten you?”

He pulls back so his face is half in shadows and half in light. When he speaks again, his voice is as hard as brick. “Our talk is over. Leave.”

“Why not tell me? Maybe I can help you if I know the truth. I know it's some sort of conspiracy. I heard them talking about you. They want you dead. But I don't.” Frustration grips me as tightly as his fingers grip the bars. “I want—need—to understand why you did it.”

“Jennza, it's not my secret to tell.”

“Why protect them? They won't protect you.”

“They're not the ones I'm protecting.” He pauses. “Your concern means a lot. If I could have requested a last wish, you just fulfilled it by coming to see me. Only now, please go.” Weariness weighs down his words. “You shouldn't be here.”

“Clearly not,” I agree with a stubborn purse of my lips. “I'm ripping all kinds of laws. If I'm caught, they'll toss me in jail too.”

“They won't harm a Topsider.”

“Topsider?”

“You.” His finger aims at me through the bars.

“So it's true … where you come from.” I frown. “You really are a ….”

“Nocturne,” he finishes. “It's what your people call us.”

“But the drawings I've seen of Nocturnes are nothing like you.” I shake my head. “Half-human, clawed, wolf-jawed beasts.”

“Sounds terrifying,” he says wryly. “You should avoid them.”

“I should, but I won't.”

He moves into the light, looking at me with something close to a smile. “A Topsider concerned for a Nocturne. My friends won't believe it.”

“Your friends must not know many Topsiders.”

“Oh, they know them,” he says wryly. “Topsiders seek us when they need special skills. The first Topsider I met was a woman with soft, dark skin as youthful as a babe, who spoke of being born before the Fence went up. Hundreds of years ago. I was amazed anyone could live so long and look so young. I wondered what it would be like to live in sunshine, rather than underground. I longed to be like Topsiders—with flawless bodies and a relaxed way of moving, as if they're all listening to the same music. It wasn't until I met you in that cave that I realized not all Topsiders were alike.”

“Why?” I ask defensively. Is my rule-breaking nature so obvious that even a Nocturne knows I'm flawed?

“I'd never met a Topsider my age and so full of independence, like an untamed creature. You were brave too. I knew you were scared, yet you were ready to attack me.”

“Not when I realized you saved my life. Why did you?”

“You were worth saving,” he says simply.

“So are you.” I purse my lips. “It's my turn to help you, only I don't know what I can do.”

“There's no saving me.”

“There has to be some way to get you out of here.”

He shakes his head. “Save yourself. Leave now before someone catches you.”

I don't want to, but I've already stayed too long. Daisy will return soon.

Before I can move, I hear voices from the road beyond the thick bushes. Deep, male voices. Through the shrubs, I glimpse figures in gray clothing walking down the paveway.

Whirling back to Nate, I whisper, “Uniforms!”

“Hide,” he whispers back.

Shadows are deepest by the ivy, so I press against the wall. I'm shaking, and my heart pounds. I expect Uniforms to burst through the bushes and drag me to jail. But I don't hear anything except a murmur of voices fading away.