by Ann Denton
“Seventy percent,” Alba replied gloomily. “Probably not high enough. And if they do it, I could get amnesia. Like, I could literally not even remember Verrukter's name. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. But if I don't ... a guy like that will never look at me again. I'm broken.”
Mala inhaled and attempted her first motivational speech. “Alba, you are not broken. You got three kills, right? I think you just have a mental block going, that’s all. You know, I used to jump in the water and swim away whenever my mom was operating? My mom would be stitching someone up and need my help and I couldn’t stand to see them scream so I would just jump off the boat. And now supposedly they’re teaching me to stand there and kill someone instead. Who looks like the worst possible Kreis candidate ever? You or me?”
Reluctantly, Alba grinned. “Did you really jump off the boat?”
Mala nodded. “They all thought I was psychotic or something. I thought I was. I’d be standing there, handing bandages to my mom and I would just hit this wall. Then splash. I was gone.”
Alba's fingers fumbled with the necklaces and Mala held out a hand to take them. She took a breath before tackling the tangled gold wire. “The people in the guard hated me. But I didn’t know what this melt thing was. And I couldn’t stand it—the feeling right before you melt. So I’d go swimming for a couple hours and just hope the person didn’t die.”
Alba rubbed her cheeks and swiped at her eyes. “When I used to melt—before I was recruited, back home—I’d run and hide in the woods. My auntie thought I was trying to avoid chores.” Alba half-smiled at the memory. “She made me scrub all the fish guts off the boat deck every time it happened.”
Mala smiled and gazed down at the ball of knotted necklaces. She was about to respond to Alba when one of the tokens caught her eye. It was a small square of gold, hammered with a series of Xs. She stared at it. Then her fingers started working it loose. Soon she had separated the tiny chain and pendant. She stared, her thoughts abuzz.
This looks so familiar—why? Nobody wears gold anymore. Where have I seen this? Her skin grew cold. She wasn't sure why. Mala freed the caged memories buzzing in the back of her head and a series of scattered images flashed in her mind’s eye. Her mother and the dresses. Sorgen looking to her as he died. Bara’s fire. Blut lunging at her with the knife. But nothing tied those images to the necklace. Yet she couldn't shake the feeling she had seen it ...
“Hello, are you there? Come back, Mala. Come back!” Alba called, waving her hand in Mala's face.
Mala turned to her, voice laced with urgency. “Have you ever seen this necklace before?”
“No idea. They have so many, I don’t even know ... want me to get someone? ” Alba asked, confused by the sudden fixation.
“Yes, please.” She stared at the little golden Xs, burning their image into her head, unable to shake the haunted mist swirling in the pit of her stomach.
Soon Alba reappeared with a short little man who wore spectacles that made his eyes appear twice their normal size. “This is Gilden. He makes most of the jewelry in here.”
Silently, Mala held the necklace out for him. He took it and held it above his face, close to his eyes. “Ah, yes. This is a marker.”
“What’s that?” Alba tilted her head so she could see the pattern better.
“It’s an Erlender piece. They used to use it about twenty years back. To mark their targets,” the last word came out with a spray of spit. Gilden looked disgusted at the thought. Alba just looked shocked. Her expression reminded Mala of something ...
Slowly, Mala reached for the piece. She stared at the little square as it twisted in midair before her ...
She saw Blut’s body. And she remembered Lowe rifling through his pockets, throwing things aside. Throwing a necklace at her. She stared again at the little charm. Could it be the same thing? She reviewed the memory. Her jaw clenched.
“I need to go see Lowe.” She stood, reached for the necklace and tucked it safely into her palm.
He wasn’t after Lowe. And he didn’t just see me melt on the water. This was the necklace he pulled off Sari. Before that. Blut cut into her face. Kiss, cut, kiss. Blut was there that night hunting Kreis.
Chapter Twenty-Four
“Focus!” Verrukter bellowed in her face. He’d managed to land three punches in a row. Mala couldn’t control herself in her gangly new body, which she’d acquired courtesy of a smirking, chap-lipped Ein, who stood on the sidelines during her latest combat practice. Having Ein there was distracting enough. Trying to fight in different bodies was nearly impossible. But, to top everything off, Lowe hadn’t said a word when she’d found him at his hut last night and handed him the necklace.
He’d listened to her. But he hadn’t said a word. Did he believe me? Lowe had simply covered her eyes, kissed her gently, and strode off to a sub, disappearing down into the lake. Mala had waited for him on the platform outside his hut, shivering despite the black bear cloak she’d been issued for winter. She’d watched the ice on the far side of the lake crack, and frost flowers bloom in the winter air. They’d looked like the hands of some lake monster rising from the depths.
Lowe hadn’t come back. She hadn’t seen him this morning. Where did he go? Did he bring it to the Ancients? Why was Blut looking for Kreis? Why did he think that Sari was Kreis? Was he there to recruit them to the Erlender side—Ouch!
A kick to her kidney brought Mala back to the present. She fell to her knees. Her vision blurred. She felt like she might vomit.
“Get up,” Verrukter demanded.
Mala held up a hand in protest.
“Pathetic, isn’t she?” Ein quipped to Verrukter. “Tier and I are always discussing how she can’t make the cut. Would be better to put her out of her misery and—”
Mala swallowed the pain. She let out a howl as she tried to bowl Ein over. But Verrukter was too fast. He intercepted her and pinned her hands behind her back. She kicked him, and her male body (Mala couldn’t even remember who she looked like at the moment) proved effective for once. Verrukter swallowed a yelp. Mala pressed her advantage and stomped his instep. Once he’d released one of her hands she smashed the flat of her palm furiously into his nose.
Verrukter let go. And she stepped around him. She did not let herself wince despite the fact that she felt like a hook was yanking her insides out through her spine. Instead she marched over to Ein, angry to find he was still taller than her.
“You do NOT get to decide if I make the cut,” she growled. “Your job is over. You’re just a pair of lips. That’s all.”
“Oh really?” Ein smirked. He pointed at Verrukter, who stood to one side of the practice mat, holding his nose. “Did I not just motivate you to kick his ass?”
Mala glared at him as the realization clicked into place. He pushed my buttons. “I hate you.”
“Your clever remarks really cut deep, Mala,” Ein laughed and stepped back as she swiped at him. Before she could move again, she felt ice-cold water splash her face.
She melted. And for the fifth time that day, she felt eternal gratitude toward the little old men at the Costume Shop. Alba had managed to smuggle her a pair of holey spandex shorts, a bra, and a very large t-shirt. The spandex was pushing its limits after all of her melts, but she had yet to flash anyone today.
“You know, I’m getting tired of this,” Mala sighed. “You don’t have to splash my face—”
Ein shut her up with a kiss. Jerk though he was, he’d at least badgered the cook for mint leaves so that his kisses were not completely unpleasant. Mala hated that he’d thought to do that. Because when he grabbed her and held her up against him, cradled her with his arms, all that rage she felt turned suddenly into a different kind of smolder. Worse, a tiny part of her felt safe in his massive arms. Which is not the case, idiot. Clearly he’s going behind your back to get you thrown out of here. Her heart scoffed at her head’s logic. If that was really the case, how could he still make me melt? No, deep down, he feels something.
Braniac’s just never gotten past the pull-the-pigtails phase. When her head and heart warred like that Mala often found herself lost. In this case, lost in the kiss.
A male voice jolted her back to reality. “That’s enough, Ein.” Lowe’s command boomed across the room.
Mala dropped her hands from Ein’s brown hair, and didn’t even look into Ein’s eyes to finish the melt. She swiveled immediately to look at Lowe, pressing on Ein’s arms so that he’d drop her.
“Now you’ve made her miss a melt,” Ein groaned. “I’m gonna have to kiss her again.” And though Ein’s tone was horrified, his grin was wider than the river’s mouth.
Lowe’s expression was dark. He approached Mala and grabbed her hand. She leaned into him.
“So, you don’t kiss him back, huh?” Lowe raised an eyebrow.
Mala wasn’t sure what the right answer was. She wasn’t sure if there was an answer that wouldn’t get her in trouble. Her eyes searched Lowe’s face for a hint of compassion. “I … We’ve been at this all day, fighting and melting. I’m sorry.” She sighed. “I wish you’d walked in five seconds earlier, when I’d told him I hated his guts.”
“Five seconds?” Verrukter quipped. “Try five minutes! You were making out so long I thought I might go grab something to eat.”
Mala stuck her tongue out at him. He winked. “Anytime you want to stick that in my mouth you’re welcome to.”
Mala turned back to Lowe. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with all day? The two of them … it’s insane. And then they’re beating me to death on top of it. Help me.” She jutted out her lower lip.
Lowe rolled his eyes, but he grinned and pulled her into him. Mala noticed Ein stiffen slightly. “That,” Lowe smiled, “is exactly what I’m here to do.” He turned Mala to face the doorway.
Haloed in light from the hallway, Fell pushed away from the doorjamb and made her way toward Mala. Her chocolate skin contrasted beautifully against a violet wetsuit. She glanced at Verrukter, then jerked her head once toward the door. It didn’t take a second gesture; Verrukter scurried off like an ant avoiding a shoe.
Fell stopped a few feet away, calmly appraising Ein. “You know the rumors, I suppose?” Ein bit his lip. For the first time since Mala had known him, he looked slightly cowed. But Mala didn’t have more than a second to gloat before Fell continued. “Tier’s saying she’s useless. Shackled to a Typical who can’t transform. Who can’t fight. All it’s going to take is one Erlender to recognize you and she’s blown. Tier’s saying I backed a loser, that my judgement’s bad.”
Fell took a step closer to Ein. “You are going to correct that inaccurate opinion.” Her gaze pummeled him. The only sound in the room was wheeze of the air vents.
“How?” Ein breathed.
“You have two options. Teach her how to control her melts with different people … or you get to sign up for combat and the Costume Shop.”
Mala’s eyes flicked between the two of them as Ein weighed his options.
“Can I speak with you privately?” he finally choked out.
Fell jerked her head toward the door. Lowe grabbed Mala’s arm and marched her out.
“But, why can’t I stay in there? Why don’t I get a say in this? This is about my melts!” Mala exclaimed. Why does Ein get the choice? What if I don’t want him to do the combat-and-disguises sludge?
Lowe leaned against the wall. “Mala… you need to understand. From now on nothing is solely about you.”
Mala shut her mouth. Don’t be a baby, she scolded internally. Of course, it’s not just about me. But it is my life. And what if I don’t want … she couldn’t finish the thought. She wasn’t sure what she wanted. Did she want Ein out in the field with her? Sure, he’s a technological god here, but… she tried to picture him on her mother’s boat. Would he survive in the wild? Do I care? Her confusion was interrupted.
Fell stood in the doorway. Ein hung back, eyes downcast. Mala felt a moment of panic. Her eyes flickered between the two of them. Fell watched her, only the slightest tilt of her head indicating interest in Mala’s reaction. “I have come to a decision.”
Lowe straightened. Mala followed suit, and tried to keep her eyes from straying to Ein, trying to figure out what the decision was.
“Ein will begin combat practice immediately,” Fell said. “Lowe, you will train him. This will all be classified as confidential.”
Lowe couldn’t keep the shock off his face. “Is that safest for Mala?”
Fell just raised her eyebrow.
Lowe stuttered, “I mean, yes ma’am.” And though his tone remained flat and professional, a wild glint came into his eyes as he suggested to Ein, “Why don’t we get started?”
Ein scrambled backward. His face went as white as a kid fallen overboard. “What? Right now? Are we sure this is …” he trailed off at the look on Fell’s face. “Like I said—I can just help Mala melt and then stay hidden while she does her thing.”
Lowe cocked his head. “And what if Mala’s out ‘doing her thing’ and someone’s crying their eyes out? What if she bumps into someone who happens to be pissed? Anyone could make her melt. No, I think you’re going to need to be by her side every step of the way—just in case.” Lowe cracked his knuckles deliberately, one by one. “I’m happy to help get you ready for such an experience.”
Ein skittered across the practice mat. Lowe smiled, but didn’t pursue him. Instead, he turned to Mala and caressed her cheek. “Why don’t you take rest of the morning off? Your partner has a lot of training to catch up on.”
“Are you sure you don’t need my help?” I really want to see this, her eyes begged.
“Next time.”
Mala gave Ein a little wink. “Don’t be so scared. I’m sure your big brain will keep you safe.”
Fell pulled a chain and the garage door to the combat room rolled shut with a clang. She turned to Mala. “I know he’s put you through the wringer. But I wouldn’t be too hard on him. You and Ein are partners now, for better or worse.” She swept away, a purple wave gliding down the hall.
Bursting with news, Mala made her way to the archive. It had rapidly become her favorite retreat since she’d started at the Center. Not only because Ges was there, but because all of the archive workers had grown more friendly as she’d spent time there. It was a great place to catch up on gossip, and she couldn’t wait to tell Ges everything.
But when she got to the archive, her smile dimmed. She sensed tension in the air. Everyone was working, green wetsuits moving methodically from shelf to desk and back, but they were plodding. They were slow. No one was catapulting off the sides of the balcony. No one was smiling.
Mala made her way to Ges’s usual haunt, over by the computers. He wasn’t there. One of the archivists told her she needed to look for him in the painting room.
She climbed a ladder and found Ges alone on a rare open stretch of floor, one not crowded by books or tables or scrolls. He was crouching in front of a series of canvases unrolled on the floor in a circle around his feet. Mala waved, and while he smiled to see her, the smile quickly gave way to a frown.
“Hey, what’s going on? Why’s everyone so upset?”
Ges stared at her a long moment. He opened his mouth, closed it again, and sighed. “There’s a funeral today. One of the archivists, Gluck, died yesterday.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mala touched his hand. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want me to go with you?”
Ges’s face flushed, making his freckles pop more than usual. “Oh, no. You better not. I mean, I’ll be alright.”
“What? Why not? I mean, I didn’t know Gluck, but I know what it’s like to lose someone.” She swallowed a lump in her throat as her mom’s face came to mind. “I’m happy to go support you.”
“Thanks. But … it’s a Typical thing.”
“Oh, got it.” Mala still didn’t fully understand the Kreis-Typical divide, but she stepped back to give Ges some space. “Do you want me to go?”
&nbs
p; “No, don’t go. I’m sorry. The funeral’s not for an hour,” Ges responded. “Want to help me try to categorize these pictures?”
Mala turned back. “Sure, I guess. I don’t know if I’ll be much help.”
“Well, you’ve seen more of the river than I have,” Ges joked. “Maybe you can at least help me identify locations.”
“Ok,” Mala agreed, and she stepped over a painting, into the ring Ges had made for himself. He picked up a notebook and a pen. “Am I allowed to know what these are?”
“King Troe commissions them. Erlenders don’t have as much access to video or old tech as we do, since one of our raids destroyed their bunker about thirty years ago. And because they don’t have your favorite person, Ein, on their side. Troe uses these for reconnaissance. Planning. Some advisors called chiaras are sent out. They paint or draw different locales. You can see how many of them are quick - brush strokes sloppy and stuff. And they’re not beautiful or anything. Sometimes they have people. Sometimes they don’t. But, it’s always good to get into your enemy’s head. So we try and think of it that way. Seeing what he sees. Documenting the areas he’s interested in so we can be sure to defend them adequately.”
Mala looked at each painting in turn. Most were simply of bends in the river, strategic positions that she could see the king would want. But the last one was a beautifully detailed painting. Tiny daubs of yellow paint kissed the canvas, imitating the falling leaves of tamarack trees. Quick brush strokes showed a solitary boat on the lake. Mala couldn’t be sure if she was projecting, but she swore the profile looked exactly like Bara’s boat.
Tears gathered in her eyes, despite herself. She bit her lip and pointed at the painting, that looked like nothing more than a study of fall leaves. “There. That one’s off the Vers tributary. Northeast of Sonne Pointe. Maybe five kilometers. I’m not exactly sure.”
“Awesome! Nobody knew that one here,” Ges bent his spiky head of hair and scribbled into his notebook.