by J. Elle
The sound of “but” makes me queasy. I try to speak, but the only words that come to mind sound desperate, weak. I won’t be weak in front of him.
“I-I promise I’ll do anything in my power to help, Rue.”
“I don’t need your help. And I never will.”
He cups my shoulder. “In the meantime, just—just try to adhere to the rules.”
“When people we love are in danger and we have the means to stop it—we do something. Even if it’s against the rules… Aasim.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Where’s the girl?”
“Probably at her grandmother’s.” I let go of the door handle.
“Has her memory been wiped?”
That’s a thing? I must have skipped that day. “N-no. I-I… there was no time for any of that. My magic got weird and…” That guy with the tattoo disappearing from the car…
“The first time you touch them they see everything. Your strongest memories—usually the most recent ones—become theirs. Like a stock of photos tucked away without sound or meaning. But even a human seeing could be enough to out that Ghizon exists. That’s not a risk the Chancellor will be inclined to take.”
What risk is Tasha? “She’s a kid! And doesn’t everyone around here say he’s so generous and kind? He—”
“Rue, I know him. I’ve known him my entire life. He basically raised me, remember? He’s calculating. Clever. And careful. Very careful. This is not a risk he’s going to take.”
“H-h-how much does he know?” I ask.
“For now, he doesn’t know who you touched, but I assure you, he will find out.”
I stumble for words. “He won’t hurt her. I’ll kill him.”
“Well—”
The glass door thrusts open and a guard with a familiar face—a friendly familiar face—peeks through. I muffle a gasp and the knot between my shoulders eases. Some.
“Good day, ma’am,” he says. Recognition flashes in his eyes, but his tone is stilted. “Follow me, your cell is ready.” He turns to Aasim. “The Chancellor and his general are inside waiting for you, sir. They’re ready to begin.”
Luke, Bri’s green-haired, green-eyed boyfriend, chances a wink as he escorts us inside.
CHAPTER 7
THE DETAINMENT ROOM IS a concrete box with a rectangular window on the far end. On the other side of the window is another room with three pairs of eyes fixed on me: the Chancellor, Aasim, and a man with a scar under his eye: the General, the Chancellor’s dawg. He wears a tunic the color of ice, and his eyes are even colder.
“Over here, Rue,” Luke calls. I back away from the window feeling sick. The way the Chancellor and his scar-faced errand boy are staring at me, I could be in deep shit.
A rancid smell like crayons stings my nose as I move to the center of the room, past a small cot and a single metal chair.
“If you’ll sit.”
“Nope, I’ll stand.” Something about standing makes me feel more… ready, more… in control.
“O-okay. Th-that’s fine.” Luke plucks a syringe from a metal tray. “This might hurt a little bit.” He cranes his neck for a good angle. “Could you lift up your…”
I grab my nest of curls and hold it off my neck.
“Yep, perfect. Just like that.”
My neck stings a moment before a tingling sensation takes over like ice water seeping into my veins.
“Another second. Almost done.”
“What exactly is this?” I ask, grimacing. A question you ask before you let someone cut your skin open.
Luke resurfaces, a silver disc the size of a penny floating above his palm. “A tracker,” he says discreetly. “The General told me to. But don’t sweat it,” he says, leaning in, a satisfied smile on his face. “Bri can deactivate it if you want. Just tell her it’s the Z300 model. She’ll know what I mean.”
“Slow down, techie. Why do I need a tracker?” I whisper.
“They told me to do it,” he says, leaning his head toward a tinted two-way window. “I’m just following orders.”
“I see.”
Next, he hands me a cup. “Drink up.”
The liquid is bitter on my tongue and I gag.
“It’s an antidote for the chaser. Water will only get you so far… and it’ll wear off eventually.”
I take another sip. It’s like drinking perfume. I clamp my mouth shut so I don’t spit it back out. The men behind the glass beside Aasim still stare, arms folded.
The Chancellor moves closer to the window like he’s studying me, and I bristle at his stare. He’s ’bout my height with a boxy frame and chiseled cheeks. His eyes have dark circles around them, and something about his RBF says he’s always thinking… plotting… planning.
The General joins the Chancellor at his side. This one I don’t know as well. Only seen him a few times. He’s taller than the others, built like some sort of commando, but older. His hair is grayish white with a giant bald spot in the middle. His arms are like boulders—like he spends the whole day bench pressing. A deep scar in the shape of a dagger runs beneath his left eye. His stare is like acid on my skin.
As much as I loathe Aasim, he’s probably the only one in there trying to do right by me.
“Am I able to talk to any of them?” I ask Luke.
Again, he gestures for me to sit, and this time I do. “I’m sorry. They said full booking. I’m going to have to take your things.”
I sigh, nodding.
“And no, you don’t get to talk to them. I mean, unless they want to. Shoes?”
I hand them over, nerves twisting my insides. “So how does this work? When do I get to explain myself?”
“Socks too. And I’m going to need that watch.” He peeps over his shoulder and whispers. “I promised Bri I’d make sure you keep this. I’ll get it back to you.” Luke clears his throat, pretending to check my tracker. “She said they have no way of knowing you used it. You set off the signal using your magic among humans.”
“So my watch is safe?” I ask, as low as I can, handing over my things.
“Completely. They have no idea it even exists.”
That’s some small relief, I suppose. That, and Luke on my side. Bri picked a real one. He and Bri have been together for months. Seems like a straight up nice guy. They geek out and shit. She likes him. So I like him. He breaks her heart though? I’ll break his face. He knows it too.
“Looks like your tracker’s in and working properly.” He clears his throat again as if doing that repeatedly sounds natural. “If you have a shirt under the hoodie, I’ll take the outer layer too. Any hair accessories, other jewelry?”
What is this? Why am I giving up all my stuff before I can even make my case, explain myself?
“That necklace.”
“You’re not getting my necklace. Period.” I tuck the purple thread around my neck into my collar. “If they want it that badly, they can cut it off my corpse.”
He gives a sympathetic smile and doesn’t push it.
Behind the glass, the men’s gestures grow increasingly animated. Aasim’s talking—fast, from what I can tell. The Chancellor’s rubbing his chin. The General I can’t read as well. He’s standing there, face plain, lips forming a thin, straight line. Low-cut gray hair fades to white around his temples. He doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. The Chancellor turns to him a second, whispering something. And Aasim keeps talking, but no one appears to be listening.
“What do you know about the General?” I ask Luke.
His eyes meet mine and the color drains from his already gray complexion. “General Deo? He—”
The door clicks open and Luke hops to attention, back straight, eyes dead ahead.
“Sir,” he says.
The General, so tall he nearly ducks beneath the doorframe, steps inside.
“Excuse me,” I turn to him, trying to sift the pissiness from my voice. “What’s going on in there? Am I able to speak to you or the Chancellor directly? Explain myself?”
<
br /> His voice is gruff and the lines on his face don’t move when he speaks. “Tracker in. Good work, recruit.”
Ignored. Completely.
Luke motions for me to drink up the last of the perfume drink. I throw it back and the General’s attention shifts my way.
He glares at me. “Who did she touch?”
Me? He’s not even asking me directly?
“This recruit does not know, sir.” Luke’s hands are glued to his side, rigid as a board. “This recruit can ask, sir.”
“Aye, yo.” I wave, resisting the urge to roll my eyes deep in my head. “I have a mouth. I know how to speak. The hell?” The sass slips out my mouth before I can call it back. Shit.
Shock is written all over Luke’s face. And some other emotion I can’t quite read.… “You won’t speak to the General that way again.” His brows dent ever so slightly, like he feels guilty for his tone and detached posture in the General’s presence. I forgive him. I get it. Bossman’s watching. Last thing I want is him or anyone else to get in trouble.
“Well, please let the General know I am perfectly fine speaking for my—”
“Who did you touch?” he asks, his gaze a cold dead hand wrapped around my throat.
I search for words but only sputters come out. “I… I… ahem. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
His lips straighten again. Behind the glass, Aasim’s talking with his hands, veins popping out his temple. He’s pissed. So that’s where I get my temper from. The Chancellor’s listening, it appears, still drawing circles on his chin.
“Get her ready for Unbinding,” says the General. “Chancellor’s orders.”
Okay. Okay. Losing my magic. I can handle that. And then what? Luke meets my eyes and I practically will him to know what I’m thinking.
“This recruit will do as you’ve said, sir. And after?”
The General’s stare leaves mine and I can finally breathe again.
“She’s to be banished, so you’ll need to prep for a memory sweep as well.”
Banished, as in I can go home? I won’t have magic, but that’s okay. And Bri, I’ll miss her. But I’ll still have my watch. I cup my wrist. My watch. Luke has it.
General Deo turns and my pulse begins to settle. The door clicks open and I catch a glimpse of Aasim still arguing and now pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. What’s he trippin’ about? He’s got to know I’m fine peacing outta this place. The General’s clacking steps halt. He turns.
“And recruit?”
“Sir?”
“Use this vial of truth serum if you must.” A stoppered vial appears in his hands. “I want to know who she touched.”
Luke takes the vial with a nod.
Wait, what? “I’m not taking anything.” My hands shake, but I force the words out. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“According to whom?” His words slice like daggers. “You will do as you’re told willingly, or you’ll be forced to do as you’re told.” His lips crack a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Chancellor’s orders. Recruit, get me that name.”
Words claw their way up my throat, coming out weak and desperate. “Why? For what?”
He stares a moment, unmoved. Then steps closer, my forehead warming under his breath. “Don’t you know? They’re to be killed.”
For several moments the world spins. This is not possible. He won’t. He can’t. He hovers there, glassy eyes transfixed on mine.
“Chancellor’s orders.” He paints on a smile, one that touches his eyes this time, before turning on his heels. The door clicks shut behind him.
I pound my fists on the door. My knuckles cry in pain, but I pound harder. I won’t cry. I won’t. They won’t see me that way. Moms raised a diamond.
“Rue.” Luke’s bottom lip trembles as he sets the truth serum down. I stare at the vial. It’s clear as water with bubbly fizzes at the bottom. I’m not taking that. They won’t make me. He drags a chair across the room and I seize the moment, slipping the vial in my pocket while his back is turned. The three behind the window are still talking. No one sees.
“I-I’m so sorry,” he gestures at the chair. “I don’t know what to say. Whoever you touched, I-I’m so sorry. Can you sit? The serum can make the lower limbs unstable; works better secured in a seat.”
“No!” I’m hollow and my chest is heavy. Everything’s so heavy. I gape at the door. This is some cruel dream. He didn’t mean that. He’s coming back. This isn’t real.
He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I promised Bri I’d do what I can to help.” Luke shuffles through his pocket, his back to the window. “Can you pretend to go along with it?” Clearly, Luke’s scared of the General. “T-tell me what I can do. A-anything? I’m so sorry.”
I should answer, but I have no words. There’s nothing he can do. I’m not letting him get caught up trying to help me. Who knows what they’d do to him or Bri? This is my burden to carry and I’ll carry it alone.
“I’m going to figure this out.” I sit in the chair.
“H-how?” He pats his pockets and looks around for the missing vial, genuinely confused. Back behind the glass, Aasim is silent. Does that mean he won? Or gave up? The General leans in to the Chancellor’s gaze locked on mine.
The first time I met the Chancellor, he told me I shouldn’t exist.
“We don’t lie with humans,” he had said. “It’s beneath us.” I remember how he stood there, arms folded with hostile judgment in his eyes. He wore a jade-colored coat, and stubble dotted his chin. He smelled of earthy spices that burned my nose. I should have clawed his eyes out that very moment and cut out his tongue. If I had, maybe he wouldn’t be contorting his twisted mouth right now to condemn my sister to death.
A twelve-year-old who’s nothing to him and everything to me.
“Humans are underdeveloped as a species,” he had said two seconds after our first hello. “They tote around unchecked emotion without any sort of self-control. We are gods. Though your father breeding you was a grave crime, I’m a reasonable man.” His words sear my memory like a fresh-inked tat. “Show your loyalty is here,” he’d said. “That you’re more us than them.” Then he turned to Aasim and said the four words that changed everything. “She may be Bound.”
Aasim was pleased. Said it was a real mark of trust. “It’s the only way I can keep you safe,” he’d said.
The Chancellor moves closer to the window, not even a nose length from the glass. His stare pierces like needles, eyes as still as death. There’s no sympathy in them. No warmth. No understanding. Only judgment.
Something inside me snaps. I’m up and nose to the window too. My wrists are scorching hot and I let my anger burn like fuel. Everyone around here plays fiddle to his pompous ass. If the streets taught me anything, it’s to see through the Laws bullshit.
Moms raised a diamond. He won’t break me.
I slap the window; it vibrates and he slow shakes his head in disdain.
“You don’t scare me!” Anger swirls in my head, throbbing. Magic surges through me like lightening and the glass between us shatters in a shower of chimes. The Chancellor flinches, his stone exterior cracking for a second. The glint in his eye… is that anger? Fear?
Face to face with the man condemning my sister to die, I don’t feel regret or sadness. Only rage.
“You shouldn’t have brought her here.” He looks at Aasim. “She’s far more like them than us.”
CHAPTER 8
BEING BOUND TO MAGIC was by far the most painful experience I’ve ever endured. And I’ve had a hot comb too close to my scalp. I don’t know if Unbinding hurts as much as Binding. And I have no intention of finding out.
Lights creak overhead as I stand near the door in the concrete box, waiting to be taken to Unbinding. Warm fingers shove cold metal into my grasp. My watch. I curl my hands around it and stick it out of sight. Luke nods without a word and I hope he knows how thankful I am. His shift is done and the new guards taking over are complete s
trangers. He tugs the restraints on my wrist gently.
“She’s all ready to go, sir.” He snaps to attention.
“Get her to the Infirm Ward afterward. She’ll be out of sorts.” The General’s voice is firm and his men obey without question. The guards drag me along more roughly than needed, but I stay compliant. I’m the unpredictable human, the emotional creature they don’t understand.
And I’m wounded. This makes them fear me.
We head back down the glass elevator and into a breezeway that bridges over a courtyard to the Binding building. Inside, the halls are just as I remember, blinding white. Hollow footsteps echo around me and orbs float overhead, lighting the corridor. People in lab coats walk to and fro, scribbling on clipboards.
I keep my head down on my hands bound in front of me, magic subdued by the restraints. He’s going to have to take them off to access the onyx on my wrists for Unbinding. Even if for only a second. That’s my chance.
Maybe my only chance.
We stop at a carved opening at the end of the hall with a sign over it that reads RECEIVING WINDOW. A woman with curly teal hair sits, typing. She points to a circular gadget sitting on the ledge without a word or a glance at me.
“Your thumb.” The Patrol at my right nudges my elbow and I press my thumb to the scanner.
“And one more print here,” she says, moving her hands back quickly, I guess to avoid touching my skin. Humans disgust many of them. Especially the older ones, I’ve noticed.
I press the other thumb on the scanner as the Chancellor’s words sizzle in my memory. He sees my humanity as weakness, a threat to his superior way of life. He’s arrogant, self-important, a coward. But Moms taught me to grind, to find a way when there is none.
I haven’t forgotten who I am. Who Moms raised me to be.
“That’ll do it,” she says in some fake chipper tone, and we scoot farther down the hall. We turn two corners and enter a familiar room. It’s windowless and tiny, like a patient room at the doctor. It’s white, pristine, and cabinets line the back, just as sterile as it was eleven months ago. The door clamps shut and my heart rattles in my chest.