Wings (A Black City Novel) (29 page)

“I never knew what Polly was going through,” Natalie says, her voice muffled. “All those years I was jealous of her, wishing I had her life, wishing I could
be
her. I didn’t know how much she was hurting. Can you imagine what it must have been like for her, to be tortured by her father and betrayed by her mother? No wonder her mind was never the same after that.” I hold her close as she cries, running my hand down her back. “How could Polly forgive my mother after what she did to her?”

“I didn’t know Polly for long, but I could tell she had a good heart,” I murmur. “She didn’t seem like the kind of girl who could hold a grudge against someone.”

“She wasn’t,” Natalie admits. “Polly tried to see the best in people; she thought everyone deserved a second chance. She was a better person than me.” Natalie pulls away, wiping her eyes. “I’m going to apologize to my mother.”

“Do you mind if I check on Evangeline?” I ask.

Natalie shrugs a little. “I don’t mind.”

I kiss her forehead and then go down to the hospital where Evangeline is recuperating. The ward is quiet and all the lights are off, except for the one above Evangeline’s bed. She looks very pale but otherwise happy. A half-empty glass of Synth-O-Blood sits on her dresser. It shouldn’t take long for her to recover from the surgery, which is lucky since we don’t have much time; we need her up and walking about in—I check the clock hanging on the wall—
fragg,
thirty-six hours! She’s wearing a pale green hospital gown, which is open at the front, although bandages are wrapped around her chest, preserving her modesty. Elijah is with her. They’re chatting with each other, laughing. Occasionally she touches his arm. His cheeks flush, his smile widens.

“Hey,” I say, and they turn to look at me. “I just wanted to check how you were.”

She shrugs. “It feels like someone’s stuffed me with a pound of potatoes. Ash, do you think this is going to work?”

“Yeah. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“You’re not scared?” she says.

I give a lopsided grin. “Nah. Purian Rose is the one who needs to be afraid, not us.”

She bites her lip. “Do you think my new heart might activate when I touch Rose?” She looks hopefully at me. “Dr. Craven wasn’t certain, because it’s a Lupine heart, but Lucinda said Theora felt a spark in her chest when they touched, so . . .”

“Yeah, it’s possible,” I say, smiling reassuringly. I know how much she’s longed for a heartbeat. “I’ll leave you guys to it.”

I head to the elevator and jab the button a few times. There’s a
ping
as the elevator arrives, and I enter. The walls are covered in sheets of gilded metal, warping my reflection so I’m just a dark shadow among a sea of gold. I sink down onto the floor and bury my head in my hands. I lied to Evangeline when I said I wasn’t scared.
I’m terrified.

EDMUND

Centrum, Dominion State

Today

I
STEP ONTO THE BALCONY
of the Golden Citadel, which overlooks Rose Plaza, and rest my gloved hands on the balustrade. All around me the city of Centrum glints in the moonlight, the towering skyscrapers the perfect combination of beauty and power. Down in the square below, a large platform has been erected in preparation for the public ceremony, happening the day after tomorrow. Everything is falling into place. Thirty years of preparation is finally about to pay off. I should be happy. But for some reason, I feel empty.

A sudden cold wind blasts over the balcony, sending a chill down my neck. I sense someone beside me, and turn. Standing a few meters away is Theora. She’s wearing a primrose-yellow dress and hunting jacket—the very outfit she wore the night my father murdered her. Her snowy-white mane stirs in the breeze. A few strands of hair fall into her silver eyes.

“Hello, Edmund,”
she says.

I exhale, grief ripping through me. I know she can’t really be here—it seems I’ve started hearing voices in my head, like Patrick claimed my mother used to do—but seeing her makes all those memories come rushing back. She looks over the balustrade at the Cleansing pool in the square below.

“Are you really going to go ahead with this, Edmund?”
she says.

I place my gloved hand next to hers. Every part of me aches to touch her, but I know it’s impossible. She’s just a figment of my mind.

“I’m doing all of this for you,” I say.

“Is this really what you think I’d want?”
she replies.

“It’s what
I
want. You and Grandfather were the only people who accepted me for what I truly am.” I sigh. “I miss you.”

A sad smile flitters over her lips.
“So this is your solution? To make everyone like us?”

“If we’re all the same, then there will be peace at last,” I say.

“You’re wrong, Edmund.”
Theora turns her face up to look at the moon. The iridescent light makes her pale skin glow.
“Do you remember when I took you to the Lupine temple on Mount Alba?”

“I think about it every night,” I whisper.

“You asked me how I could be so kind to you, after what your father did to my parents,”
she says.
“Do you recall what I said?”

“You can’t judge an entire species by the actions of one man.”

“And what else?”

I briefly shut my eyes. “It’s easy to hate. The true test of our hearts is to forgive.”

“Precisely,”
Theora says, turning to me, her silver eyes sparkling. “Forgiveness
is the only way you will ever find peace, Edmund.
”

“That will never happen,” I say bitterly. “You need a heart to forgive, and Icarus took that from me the night he murdered you.”

“Your Excellency?” a worried voice says behind me.

I turn to see my servant Forsyth standing by the doorway. He’s dressed in long white Pilgrim robes. His head is shaved, and he has a red rose tattoo above his left ear, like all my faithful followers. He studies me with anxious, newly silver eyes.

“Sebastian Eden is here, as you requested,” he says.

I glance toward Theora, but she’s gone.

“Thank you, Forsyth,” I say, moving away from the gold balustrade. I have nothing to fear about Forsyth repeating what he just saw. He’s devoted to me.

“I have other news, Your Excellency,” Forsyth says as we walk back inside the building. “The bodies of the Lupine woman Ulrika and her cousin Kieran have been brought to Centrum, as instructed. What would you like me to do with them?”

I run my tongue over my top teeth, feeling the rough edges of my veneers. I was furious when I found out they’d been shot, particularly Ulrika. She was like a sister to Theora.

“Have them cremated at the next full moon,” I say as we enter my office.

My grandfather would have hated this room, with its lavish furnishings, marble floors and gilt walls. Patrick thought it gave the right air of authority, but I’m not so sure. I miss the whitewashed walls of the church I grew up in. The boy Sebastian is standing by the large fireplace, looking at the photographs on the mantelpiece. He’s dressed in a gray uniform, his head cleanly shaven, like Forsyth’s. He spins around when he hears me approach, and bows.

“Your Excellency,” Sebastian says. There’s a long gash down the side of his cheek, which I presume he got during the siege on the rebel compound. It seeps when he talks.
Disgusting.

I turn to Forsyth. “Prepare another seat at the dining table for Mr. Eden. Put him beside Patrick.”

“Emissary Bradshaw won’t be able to attend dinner tonight, Your Excellency,” Forsyth says. “His servant girl called a short while ago. Apparently he’s had a bad reaction to a”—he lowers his voice—“
procedure.
He’s going to be bedridden for at least a week.”

I sigh impatiently. For a man as grotesquely fat as Patrick, he’s surprisingly vain, just like his parents. It’s typical that he won’t be there to support me on the most important day of my life; he will be punished for this.

“Fine,” I say. “It’s probably best he doesn’t come to the Cleansing ceremony if that’s the case. I don’t want him scaring people.”

“Very well,” Forsyth says. He bows and humbly walks backward toward the door.

“Oh, and Forsyth?”

“Yes, Your Excellency?”

“Find the squad responsible for killing Ulrika and Kieran and have them shot,” I say.

“The
whole
squad, Your Excellency?” Forsyth says uncertainly.

“Yes, all of them,” I reply. “I won’t tolerate incompetence. I gave them strict instructions, and I expected them to be followed.”

The boy Sebastian blanches.

“As you wish,” Forsyth says, shutting the doors behind him.

I stroll over to Sebastian. There’s a slight sheen of sweat on his upper lip, giving away his nerves.

“I hear you were in charge of the attack on the rebel base in Gallium,” I say. “Congratulations. You did a fine job.”

“Thank you, Your Excellency,” the boy replies, his shoulders squaring with pride, making the butterfly medal on his chest glint. “I live to serve you.”

I study the medal, then the boy’s silver eyes. He’s taken the retrovirus, but based on his pallid complexion, he’s not reacting well to it. Shame. It’s hard to find good employees. I place my hands on the boy’s upper arms, and he flinches slightly.

“So did you kill Ash Fisher and Natalie Buchanan, like I asked you to?” I say.

The boy’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. He blinks rapidly. “Yes, Your Excellency.”

I release his shoulders. “Good. I can’t afford anything to go wrong at the ceremony.”

For the first time in weeks, I feel happy. With Ash Fisher and Natalie Buchanan dead, there’s no one left to stop me.

ASH

T
HE NEXT DAY IS SPENT PREPPING
for the Cleansing ceremony. Beetle and Roach are on the balcony, their heads newly shaved, chatting to Amy as she practices painting fake rose tattoos behind their left ears. Beetle carries off the shaved-head look well, but Roach seems utterly miserable about her new haircut, given the way she’s scowling.

I run through tomorrow’s plan in my head again. First thing in the morning, General Buchanan and Garrick will head to Rose Plaza and take out the soldiers manning the MGTs on the rooftops. Beetle and Roach will blend into the crowd on the ground, in case there’s any trouble from the Sentry guards positioned there, and Natalie and I will bring Evangeline up to the stage. The others will go in the Transporter, flown by Day, and hide in the clouds above the city. If we need to make a quick exit, Natalie will hail them, using the GPS watch Destiny gave her. I turn to Day, who is sitting with Garrick on the sofas.

“You good for tomorrow?” I ask.

“I think so,” she says. “Garrick’s been telling me how to land the Transporter; we’ll go up to the roof in a minute and run through the aircraft’s controls.”

I nod, pleased. It’s all coming together. The last part of the plan is down to Emissary Buchanan and Dr. Craven. They’re currently gathering all the evidence we have against Purian Rose, which includes the file on Polly, plus the lab report Natalie found in the Barren Lands, and the blue digital disc and sample of Wings we took from the Tenth, which Dr. Craven had the foresight to slip into his medical bag while the Sentry rebel compound was under attack.

I pick up the disc, my stomach clenching. It’s a vital part of our plan that this video be shown during the Cleansing ceremony tomorrow. Emissary Buchanan takes it from me.

“Are you certain you can trust your contact at SBN news?” I say. “We need them to override the live television feed so that the whole country sees it at the same time.”

“Have a little faith in me, Mr. Fisher. This isn’t my first rodeo,” she replies.

I smile a little. It’s hard to trust a woman who tortured me and then tried to frame me for Chris Thompson’s death from Golden Haze, but now’s a good time to start. I return to Natalie and stay by her side all day, wanting to take advantage of every second we have together. I idly play with the ends of her blond hair; she keeps her hand in my back pocket. Neither of us says it, but we both know this could be our last day together. I suddenly pull Natalie into my arms, catching her off guard, and kiss her. I don’t care that there are other people in the living room with us. A few people lift their eyes, but nobody says anything. She grips my shirt, holding me close to her, letting the kiss linger, before we eventually break apart. Her hand slides into my back pocket again.

The apartment door opens and Elijah enters the room with Evangeline. They’ve been down in the hospital level all night. We kept an eye on the security cameras to make sure no one entered the operating room while they slept, but we needn’t have worried. Patrick owned this whole building, so apart from the Sentry guards that were down at the main entrance—they’re currently tied up in a supply room—there’s no one else here.

Evangeline is shaky and pale, but otherwise appears okay. Her inky-black hair has been washed and brushed, and she’s wearing a pretty blue bustle dress, with a low neckline, revealing her surgery scar. It looks gruesome, the flesh raw and red and held together with metal staples. Elijah’s got his arm protectively around her waist and keeps fussing over her, making sure she’s comfortable as she sits down, giving her extra pillows. Natalie glances at me, her eyebrow raised. I shrug slightly.

Dr. Craven checks Evangeline’s vitals while Elijah sits cross-legged by her feet. His tail very lightly brushes against her legs, rubbing his scent on her, claiming her as his. I scrunch my nose up at the smell, but Evangeline doesn’t seem to mind it.

“How are you feeling?” I ask her.

“Sore,” she admits. “But I think I’ll be okay for tomorrow. Elijah’s been letting me drink his blood; it’s really helping with the healing process.”

My fangs pulse, thinking about how his blood tasted when I drank from him in the Barren Lands: sweet, delicious, intoxicating. He catches my eye and a smirk tugs at his lips, reading my mind.

“Don’t get any ideas, Darkling,” he says.

“In your dreams, catboy,” I reply, grinning.

As the hours slowly melt away, the tension in the group mounts. Laughter fades and the conversation diminishes, until everyone is communicating with just nods and shakes of the head. By the evening we’re all silently sitting around the fireplace, frightened, anxious. Day is on Beetle’s lap, seemingly reading a book, although she hasn’t turned a page in more than an hour. Evangeline is curled up on the sofa with Elijah. He runs his fingers up and down her bare arm. Natalie’s parents hold hands, and Roach quietly strokes Amy’s hair.

The others are out on the balcony, drinking Sanguis wine as they watch the city below them. The seconds tick away on the clock above the mantel, counting down our last moments together. Natalie sits on my lap, her head pressed against my chest, listening to my heart.

Sleep doesn’t come to any of us that night; we’re all too pumped full of adrenaline to drift off. Besides, I’m not sure I want to sleep anyway. These could be my last moments on earth with my family, my friends. I don’t want to waste them.

Beetle catches my eye and gives a faint nod of the head. I can’t believe how far we’ve come. Just a few months ago we were a pair of goofballs hanging out on his barge in Black City, smoking, drinking and talking halfheartedly about revolution. Now here we are in a penthouse apartment in Centrum, just hours away from facing Purian Rose, the fate of the nation in our hands. I never thought I’d say this, but I sort of miss school. I miss the teachers, the students. I miss being a kid. And tomorrow I’m probably going to die. The thought terrifies me. My arms tighten around Natalie.

My skin starts to prickle as golden rays of sunlight spill into the room, slowly lifting away the shadows of night. Sigur and the others come in from the balcony. Everyone sits up, alert, our minds already focused on the day ahead. On the digital screen, a blond and bubbly February Fields is already reporting on the day’s events. The ceremony is due to start in two hours’ time, so thousands of Pilgrims are already streaming into the city, heading toward Rose Plaza. Aerial footage shows the crammed streets and avenues, a sea of rolling white, interspersed with pops of color where citizens have opted to wear their normal clothes instead of the white Pilgrim robes.

“Pilgrims from across the state have been flocking to Centrum all night to take part in today’s historic event,” February says. The footage cuts to the Golden Citadel, where Purian Rose is standing on the balcony, staring down at the thousands of Pilgrims already congregated in the plaza. “In two hours’ time, Purian Rose will address the nation before holding the first televised Cleansing ceremony, here, in Rose Plaza . . .”

I turn down the volume, my nerves on edge.

General Buchanan and Garrick grab their guns. Emissary Buchanan shakes Garrick’s hand, and then hugs her husband. He tenderly kisses her.

“See you soon,” he whispers, smoothing down her hair where he’s mussed it up.

She nods, her hand brushing against his. “I . . .” She can’t say the words.

“I know,” he says. “Me too.”

Natalie climbs off my lap and rushes over to her dad, flinging her arms around his neck. He holds her close, pressing his face into her shoulder.

“Take care, Dad,” Natalie says.

“You too, Talie,” he replies, kissing the top of her head. “Love you.”

He gives his family a lingering look before he heads out of the apartment with Garrick. The door shuts behind them. Now it’s our turn. We go to our rooms and get ready.

I have a lengthy shower, the hot water beating off my back, trying to scorch away my nerves. It doesn’t work. I turn off the water and wrap a towel around my waist and enter the bedroom. Natalie sits on our bed, wearing a simple white vest and underwear as she injects herself with her Wrath medication. Venom floods my fangs at the sight of her bare legs and the curve of her breasts. Natalie catches me looking and laughs.

“Ash, we haven’t got time,” she says.

“I know,” I say, kissing her shoulder, forcing down my frustration.
Gah!

She tugs at my towel as I walk by, and it slips off my hips.

“Natalie, we haven’t got time,” I tease.

She laughs but it quickly dies on her lips. We’re both trying to pretend everything is normal, but I’m nervous as hell. We get dressed in similar outfits, which we found in the wardrobes around the apartment: black pants, gray tops and black hooded tailcoats with bright orange lining—Patrick liked the finer things in life. Natalie spins her hair up into a bun and pulls up her hood. I lower mine over my head, checking my reflection. Shadows cut across my eyes, disguising their distinctive glimmer, and as long as I keep my mouth closed, no one should see my fangs. I’m used to blending in and acting human; I’ve been doing it all my life.

We go back to the living room where the others are waiting. Evangeline, Beetle and Roach are dressed similarly to us, although under her tailcoat Roach is wearing a cerulean-blue top—the color of the rebellion. I can’t help but grin. She smiles back at me.

“Okay, we ready to go?” Roach says, checking the fake rose tattoo on the side of her shaved head in a nearby mirror.

No.
“Yup,” I say.

Beetle grabs Day and dips her, kissing her hard. When he breaks the kiss, they’re both breathless and flushed. Beetle gently cups her face with his hands.

“Take care, babe, okay?” he whispers.

She kisses him again. “You too.”

Elijah takes Evangeline’s hand and draws her to the side of the room. He whispers something to her and she blushes, biting her lip. Her eyes flick up and hold his gaze for a long moment. I look away. It’s not my business. Sigur strolls over to me.

“I will see you soon, son,” he says. “Good luck.”

Lucinda hovers behind him. She gives a faint nod of her head. I get the sense she’s not one for good-byes. Natalie quietly says farewell to her mom, before hugging Day.

“Just hit the button on your watch if you need me,” Day says.

Natalie wipes the tears from her eyes before taking my hand. The five of us—me, Natalie, Evangeline, Beetle and Roach—go out into the hallway, and Beetle calls the elevator. The doors
ping
open a moment later. Natalie’s hand tightens around mine.

“No fear,” she whispers to me.

We step into the elevator.