Venus City 1 (34 page)

Braya grit her teeth. “Then why hesitate? You have so much power over me, just go ahead, abuse it like you always do! My God. You're overreacting. You're making it sound like I'm marching off to my death.”

His eyes pierced her. “Your brother underestimated that woman. Look what happened to him. Didn't you hear what he said? She would have torn him apart if he hadn't had help.”

“I
will
have help,” she said. “You. Come on...” she softened her tone. “Look at it from my point of view. The woman I thought was my mother isn't. I don't
know
who my mother is. My brother nearly got killed, and now my helpless sister is left alone with the woman who nearly killed him. What am I supposed to do?”

“What do you
think
you can do?” He asked poignantly. There was something in his gaze. Another battle—two parts of him waging war against each other.

“That doesn't matter,” Braya shook her head. “I can take her out of there. I'll let her live with me, if I have to—”

“With Latham,” he said in disgust, his eyes instantly freezing over.

“Apparently not,” she muttered coolly. His grip on the batons had loosened and she grabbed them easily. It seemed he'd lost the war against himself again, lost to the side that preferred her. “He's a Locer and you already said you guys were almost done with your business here. Won't he leave, too? Actually, I don't care. If being a Bride is the best way for me to keep Bellamine hidden, I'll do it, even if Latham is my husband.”

“Braya,” he said urgently. They were walking to the base of the tower, Asher frantically dressing in the floating suit as they went. “You can't give in to him. You can't marry him.”

“Why? Just because you're jealous? This isn't about giving into anyone,” she snapped. “This is about doing whatever I can for Bellamine. It's about her,” Braya said with a gulp. This was the first time she'd actually felt compelled to go through with the Bride career. The first time she considered—
really
considered—halting her wish to gain a Crown job. Being a Bride, she would have closer access to Leraphone, who seemed to need more convincing. And after the wedding tomorrow, she feared it would be impossible to switch careers. Really, was there any use in fighting it anymore? She could be using her energies on more important things.

“This isn't about anyone but you,” Asher retorted. “You keep doing this to yourself. You claim you hate being controlled, but you do nothing to stop it.”

“So I should just not help Bellamine because I don't want to be controlled anymore?” She asked incredulously. “Sometimes you have to give something up to gain something else.”

“There are other ways, though,” he argued. They were riding up the elevator now. “You never think things through.”

“You don't know enough of me to make a generalization about what kind of behavior I never do,” she replied icily.

“I know enough,” he countered. “I know enough to see that you're letting your emotions get in the way of your decisions, and this one right here, this is a bad decision.”

“You're endorsing it, so it can't be all that bad. Plus, you haven't offered up any better ideas, so stop complaining,” she muttered.

“But you're not taking a moment to breathe, to clear your head,” Asher pointed out.

“I don't have the
time
for that,” she almost shouted. “Don't you see the urgency here? I could be too late already! But of course, you wouldn't understand, man without a family or a past.”

His eyes flooded. “Don't speak of things you don't know of.” His voice was hollow, impassive. “And don't assume I don't understand. I just want you to be safe. I care for you Bray...I really care for you.”

Braya stared at him, her anger diffusing a little at the softness of his words. “Then you would care for what I care for.”

He seemed stung. “Do you care for me?”

His question made her heart race. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you care for me?” He repeated.

She paused, unable to answer. The question was pervasive—she could feel it hovering around like another person. “Asher, lead me to my house. This is not the time for soul searching.”

“Just answer me,” Asher said, his face contorted with a deep need to know. “Answer me, and I'll take you there.”

“No, Asher!” She answered on instinct. “I don't care about you or the Locers or anyone else who's used me. No one matters right now except for Bellamine and I won't have you waste any more of my precious time trying to coax a love confession out of me!”

Asher looked hurt. He struggled to reply, “All right. Follow me.”

Just like on their way to Calmay Hospital, Asher rowed the air with the batons, several feet in front of her. The harsh prickling of the wind crashing into her face was a relief, and soon Braya found herself lulled into a somewhat rational state of mind.

They arrived at a tower just minutes from her old house. They ran the remaining distance, and after pounding on the front door several times with no answer, Braya was beginning to consider breaking in.

“A back window, perhaps?” Asher suggested, reading her mind. He seemed reserved, careful, as if her outburst had forced him behind a cool, impassive mask.

Braya darted around the house with Asher just behind her. She came to the dying garden and peered through the giant wall of window into what was Bellamine's room. Everything was dark. Not even the sunlight could illuminate the space inside. She couldn't detect any movement, but there was the slight sound of a piano floating through the glass, though no one sat at the piano playing.

“Can you get us up to that third story balcony?” She asked, pointing up. “There's a library that connects to her room.”

Asher nodded. He examined it for a moment. “You climb first. There's enough indents and ledges for you to grab. I'll go after you in case you fall.”

Braya eyed the wall connected to the balcony in unease. She was never good at climbing, but after all of the roof hopping she'd been doing with Asher and Page, she figured this couldn't be so bad.

Asher pointed out which ledges to grab and where to put her feet. He didn't climb directly below her like she expected. He was nearly behind her, nearly on her back, his quiet, concise instructions floating over her skin like sunlight. She slipped a few times, but his strong arms caught her, and despite her situation, despite her desperation to check on her sister, she couldn't help feeling drawn by the intimacy of their closeness. She had the fleeting desire to be held by him forever, but she forced that down and they made it to the balcony without any further complications.

Braya opened the door to the balcony, which was thankfully unlocked, and then rushed into Bellamine's room and down the winding staircase. She found Bellamine lying across her pillows, as usual. Asher had turned a light on, and Braya noticed a tech pad propped up on the piano, playing a recording of Bellamine's song, Begonia.

“Bellamine,” Braya whispered, touching her sister's face. It was ice cold. “Bellamine,” she said more urgently, grabbing the girl's shoulders. “Wake up. We need to leave.”

No matter what Braya did, she could not rouse Bellamine. She was growing alarmed. “Bellamine!” She said desperately. “Come on.” Her voice hitched.

Asher knelt down and pressed his hand to her neck. Braya watched him in bated silence. A great sigh escaped his lips, and a thick blanket of blue leveled over her. “There isn't a pulse...”

“NO!” She shouted. “I'll check.” She shoved him away. “Let me CHECK!”

“Braya, be quieter,” Asher said in a small voice. He was touching her elbow, stroking her arm with his thumb.

Braya checked Bellamine's pulse, checked it again, and then again…but there was nothing, no heartbeat, no pulse. Braya shook with tears, hugging her sister's freezing, limp body to her. After all this; she'd been too late.

There were no marks on her body, which could only lead Braya to conclude she had died from the disease and not a physical attack from Charlotte.

“No,” Braya whimpered. “Bellamine, please,” she sobbed uselessly. “I still have to fulfill my promise to you. I have to cure you...I have to cure the other children...” She began muttering nonsense, unable to stop the words from spilling from her mouth, mixing with the salty tears from her eyes and soaking Bellamine's hair. Asher's hand was heavy on her back, stroking from side to side.

“I knew you'd come sooner or later,” a voice cut through the sound of Braya's sobs and the background melody of Begonia. Braya looked up from the crook of Bellamine's neck where she'd buried her face to cry, and glared at the woman with a renewed fury. The very woman who had lied to her for her whole life. Who had poisoned her mind with prejudices. Who had isolated Bellamine to a life of sadness and loneliness. Who had attempted to kill Aspen. This witch who stood in stark contrast to the light of the room in complete indifference to the fact that Bellamine had passed, her disgusting apple-shaped body making Braya want to run her through a slicer. If ever there were a rotten apple, it was Charlotte Malister.

And yet, Braya didn't have the strength, didn't have the motivation or the
reason
to act upon the violent urges that were suddenly rushing through her. All of her determination had been robbed from her; it was lying in her arms, in Bellamine, dead. She couldn't remember a time she'd ever worked for something harder than she had for Bellamine's cure, and she had failed. After nearly getting it, she'd tripped at the finish line. She'd been too selfish, too caught up with the other things going on around her to realize the urgency of Bellamine's situation. She wasn't the one who was locked up every single day; she wasn't the one who had to suffer the symptoms of the disease, live with it every second of her life. No. She had thought her life so miserable forced to do the unfortunate bidding of Asher and the Locers. She'd been distracted with what she thought was unjust and miserable while all along she'd been blind to the real pain behind Bellamine's disease.

Pain. Braya had no idea if Bellamine had suffered at all. She had been a quiet, peaceful girl with not one complaint, not ever. That thought only made Braya feel more wretched than before. She deserved all the blame. She deserved the guilt and the pain that came along with what she'd failed to prevent. Braya couldn't describe the feeling of loss that tore through her like a tornado. She could say it was like being forced to climb a rocky cliff with no legs or arms; she could say it was like being crushed by a boa constrictor; she could say it was like having every bone in her body shattered to dust. She could say it was like everything except for what it really was. A great, gaping hole in her chest.

Charlotte was standing at the piano, her hands running along the sides of the tech pad that played the haunting tune of Bellamine's Begonia. “I made sure to record her songs before she passed, you might be happy to hear,” she gave a sickening giggle. “Oh, why so sad? You're finally free of her. Can't you look on the bright side, sweet daughter?”

“You're not my mother, you MONSTER!” Braya snarled. The force of her words, however, sent her head spinning.

Charlotte was yelling now, the look of fury painted over her features frightening. “Finally, you understand! All this time I had to put up with you stupid children! I HATE CHILDREN! They gave you to me and I wanted nothing to do with you! Yes, I tried to kill your brother, and if you had come with him I would have done the same to you! Good riddance that damn sick creature finally died! I'm done with all of you!”

“You will not harm Braya,” Asher proclaimed, a protective arm wrapping around her. He was trying to unwrap her from Bellamine as he rose to stand.

Charlotte gave a loud cackle. “I should have seen this coming! Braya was always weak, always too soft to take my words to heart. And now she's parading around with a man as if it were the most normal thing in the world! It's disgusting! Absolutely disgusting! Just GET! GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

Asher was tugging at Braya. Charlotte had withdrawn a knife from her jacket and was advancing on them.

Asher's reaction was immediate. He yanked Braya up, threw her over his shoulder, and ran up the stairs. Charlotte chased him, knife glinting, but Asher was highly trained in combat, and easily evaded her. She had taken a few reckless swings at them, and Braya had almost been disappointed that they had missed so terribly.

They were out the balcony and running to the tower before Braya knew it. He was still carrying her over his shoulder like a sack of flour. When they made it to the tower, he tried to force her to wear the floating suit, but Braya merely stared at him as if she'd just met him for the first time, his words not registering.

He put the suit on with his own hands, muttering as he clipped the final lock around her back. Asher ended up having to drag her across the Petti; she put up no effort to propel herself with the batons, so it made their journey back to Heartland much slower.

He carried her across the field, through the gates, into the Entrance Hall, and all the way up to her dorm. Luckily none of her roommates were home since they were all off partying before they were to marry tomorrow. He forced the door open with a kick and deposited her onto the floor where she slumped against a wall. Braya stared forward, unseeing.

“Braya, there's a letter on your bed,” Asher said, striding over to her section of the room. “And a bottle of some purple stuff.”