“How big of a hit?” I asked.
“A big one,” Catelyn answered, glaring at Jane as she did so. “A twenty-foot one.”
“More like fifteen. Or ten,” Jane estimated. “It’s difficult to say, but it’d only hit the western side.”
The same side the adoption house was on. The same side Cal’s apartment was on.
“As long as the citizens are in a second story, they should be safe,” Jane said.
“Should,” Catelyn repeated, sarcastic.
“Exactly,” Marion jumped in. “I sent my daughter there to protect her. Not to put her in danger, again.”
“And you should’ve learned the first time, Mari,” Jane snapped. “There’s nowhere safe in Vendona. But we can at least make it safer.”
“Leveling it out would give more people a higher chance,” Alec added, calm and calculating. “But we’d have to sacrifice the outskirt’s safety.”
“What else is new?” I asked sardonically.
Jane leveled her eyes with me. “There are twelve million people in Vendona. Eleven of which are in the Highlands.”
The cursed number. The entire city was cursed.
“Who should stand a better chance is really up to you,” she said, calm. “You’re the only one who could make it in this weather.”
“If Connelly attacks,” Alec added, “it’s going to be during the eye.”
“Stop it.” Catelyn cut them off. “Both of you, please.” When she released a shaky sigh, she pointed at me. “She’s just a little girl.”
“And politics isn’t the place for little girls,” I muttered, more to myself than to the others. Still, everyone stared at me.
“What’d you say?” Adam asked, the only one willing to question me.
“Nothing,” I said, jutting my thumb over my shoulder. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”
Just to clear my head, to find my heart.
Jane nodded, as did the others, but as I strode away, footsteps followed.
I stared at the emergency lights to find the shadows, and then, I felt her. The curve of a hip. The strength of her legs. The way she fiddled with her hair.
Catelyn.
“Can I go in here?” I asked, stopping at the nearest door, but Catelyn tapped the door across the hall from it.
“How about this?”
I went to argue, but then she pushed it open.
Books spanned all four walls from floor to ceiling. Some were huge, others were short, and the most striking ones looked as if they would fall apart any minute.
I tiptoed through the room, marveling at how many words—and worlds—surrounded me in a single area.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Catelyn asked, and I basked in the moment.
“By chance,” I began, “do you have The Mermaid? It’s by some lord.”
Catelyn studied the dizzying tomes. “I’m sure it’s in here somewhere.”
“But you don’t know where it is?”
She shook her head.
“Too bad,” I said. “I meant to get it for a friend.”
In my peripherals, Catelyn dragged her hand across the lowest level. “This library holds every book Vendona has,” she explained. “Some were even imported from the other city-states.”
“What about other countries?” I asked. “Like China?”
Catelyn’s eyebrows went up. “How do you know about China?”
Only the elite were educated about the outside world. That, or the unlucky.
Caleb. I hoped he’d understand what I was about to do.
“I could request materials from there, if you want,” Catelyn continued when I went silent, “but some have to stay private.”
Tomes citizens would never get a chance to read. Not yet anyway.
“We’re working on creating doubles for schools,” she whispered.
At the mention of school, I thought of Western Elementary and recalled how everything started there. I even thought of Serah and how much she wanted me to stay, and of Serena and how much she wanted me to leave. But most of all, I thought of how I wouldn’t have been standing there if I hadn’t become Vendona’s Ghost Girl, or if I hadn’t trusted other monsters at all.
“I have something for you,” I said, then reached into my pocket. The paperwork nicked my finger, dotting the edge with blood, but Catelyn accepted them gingerly.
“Paper cuts are the worst,” she said lightly, eyeing the sheet in front of her. “What’s this?”
“Legal documents I obtained from Connelly,” I answered. “She gave me real ones, too.”
I’d spent hours wondering why the woman handed over what I wanted when she could’ve given me fakes. I guessed it was in case I did my research and caught her lying in the act. Or maybe, just maybe, she truly believed in some of the things she said.
I didn’t say any of this to Catelyn though. Instead, I came up with a different theory.
“She must have thought I was too stupid to use them.”
Catelyn may not have been able to read well, but reading didn’t matter much on the stamped forms. Only the signatures did. “Do you know what this is?”
“Proof the separation laws were forged by a minority in the council,” I said, “and all the proper channels for Henderson to make an executive order to reverse it.”
Though Henderson was president of Vendona, a council balanced his power. Above them, our Regional Council—the South Council—did the same to them. The three branches made up only one part of the Council of the States—Vendona being the 167th one—but corruption trickled through even the smallest of cracks.
With the proof and the paperwork, all the laws I wanted changed could be rewritten overnight.
“Guess Connelly’s espionage was good for something,” I said.
Catelyn lowered the papers to look at me. “Vi…”
“Give them to Alec. Or better yet, Jane,” I interrupted. “I think I’ll go to school. One day.”
“When all this is over?”
“Maybe.”
Catelyn smiled. “I think that’s a great idea.”
“Me, too,” I seconded, “though there’s another decision to make.”
She sighed. “I want to tell you to leave, to forget us on this side of the wall, but…”
“This is worth saving,” I finished, then grinned. “I guess people are, too.”
“Yeah, people, too,” Catelyn said, but tears beaded at the ends of her blue eyes. The color reminded me of the ocean on an afternoon so unlike today. Right now, the sea was gray and covered with foam. Oddly, if Catelyn was the ocean, Serena was the storm, and I was the dark wind in between.
“When’s the eye?” I asked.
Catelyn looked up at the ceiling as if she could see the sky. “Any minute.”
“Okay.” I nodded to myself, though I hoped she knew I nodded for her, too. “I decided.”
“Decided what?” Catelyn asked, but I answered by pointing up.
“Can you show me to the roof?”
Britney sang a song to me while Kuthun watched.
Today, she chose to talk about misfortune and bliss. Two things I doubted any kid should know, let alone understand, but the combination was a beautiful thing.
When she stopped, the world turned.
Time froze for me again.
I would continue to live for another three days; then, she would sing for me again. Until my next song, I would be me, she would be her, and all would remain the same.
In truth, it all seemed way too mundane for the lives we already lived.
“Where would you go, if you could be anywhere?” I asked Britney as she fiddled with her hair. Ever since Kuthun had tied her bunches of curls up in buns, she’d been obsessed with the bunny-ear look—and the nickname. I couldn’t blame the eight-year-old—or technically, four-year-old—for that or for her answer.
“With Melody.”
“Melody?”
Britney pointed at the wall where Serena sat, watching us. I
’d nearly forgotten she had another sister beyond Serah. The five-year-old girl was prone to invisibility. As far as I’d been told, only Serena could see the girl when she wished to go unnoticed, but Britney insisted the child learned more about her powers. Melody allowed Britney to see her, too.
“She wants to sing with me,” Britney said.
Then, all went quiet.
Where howling winds used to beat against the adoption house, now creaking did.
In a storm, the silence unsettled me more than the destruction.
“What’s happening?” Britney asked, watching me, then Melody, then the ceiling. At one point, she shook.
Even girls who could sing immortals into being had people they wanted to protect.
I laid my hand on her head to calm her. “It’s the eye.”
“It’s all right, bunny,” Kuthun seconded, and swept her up in his arms. She giggled immediately.
No matter how much more time I spent with the kids, Kuthun had always been better with them. Like he could speak their language and teach them to understand a new one at the same time. I both admired and envied him for it. Sometimes, I loved him for it, too. Though love between us had always been complicated and delicate and dark and lovely, it was like the music we played together. Only we could create it.
“What’s an eye?” Britney asked as others began to creep out from the hallways.
The break encouraged bad bloods to embrace exposure.
“That means we’re halfway there,” Kuthun explained.
“We have to go through all that again?” Skeleton whined from the wall. He pulled a cigarette from his shirt pocket. “At least we have each other,” he said, albeit sarcastically, then he stuck the cigarette in his lips and lit it.
Smoke curled up before Hanna yanked the cigarette out of mouth and threw it to the floor. Yasir stomped on it for her. Sparks scattered up into the air, but quickly burned out like fireflies on a summer day without thunder and lightning scaring them away.
Skeleton didn’t even flinch. Instead, he blew out what little smoke he drew into his lungs. “Quite the duo, you two are.”
“Give it a rest, Skeleton,” I interrupted, rubbing my temples all the while.
It always took a minute for Britney’s song to take complete effect, but it was worse when I had to pretend that Britney wasn’t keeping me alive.
Skeleton toed his cigarette. “I’m really gonna miss that.”
“You’ll be fine,” I countered, but Skeleton stood his ground.
“Not on a day like today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Someone left,” he said. “There’s a broken board in here.”
Though he pointed into the nearest room, no one had time to look—or register his words. Instead, Daniel burst into the hallway. “Where’s Serah?”
Serena leapt up. “What do you mean, where’s Serah?”
Skeleton whistled, then pointed one of his bone-fingers at the hole in the wall. “Little blonde girl went that way.”
Daniel’s cheeks drained of color. Serena nearly screamed. The only one who remained calm was Kuthun.
The future never surprised him, but his gaze always shocked me.
When I followed his eyes, they found Serah’s string and told me exactly where the child ran off to.
“I know where she went,” I said.
Kuthun jerked up like he hadn’t noticed how much I watched him. But, of course, he didn’t. He never did.
“She went after Violet,” I confirmed.
“What?” Serena blanched. “No, no way. Violet’s in the Highlands.”
I shook my head. “Violet’s trying to stop Connelly.” I inwardly cursed at myself as I pulled on my jacket. “She’s at the wall.”
“Which wall?”
“The only one left standing.”
The western one. From the Western Adoption House, we could run to it in under five minutes.
I should’ve known Violet would go by herself. I should’ve known Serah would’ve followed her, too.
“I’ll go after them,” I said, avoiding Kuthun’s stare as I made my way past Skeleton, Hanna, Yasir, and the others, but one person stood before me.
“She’s my sister,” Serena said, wild-eyed and unafraid. “I’ll go with you.”
Daniel reached for her arm. “But—”
“You stay here,” Serena ordered Daniel, and then she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. It hit him like a slap, though, because, in a moment, she was gone.
“She’s my sister, too,” Daniel whispered, more to himself than to me, but I knew what he meant.
Serena had Serah to protect. Daniel had Violet. But Daniel also had a hundred kids in an adoption house he ran, and I had already promised him one thing.
“I’ll keep her safe,” I repeated before I followed Serena through the hole.
The stale air hit me first, then the smells of the trashed road followed. My eyes itched against the stench and sudden light. When the sky began to brighten to blue, a circular gray cloud surrounded the city. It burned white against the sunlight. Worse was how calm it all was. Like predators luring prey into a trap with a false sense of peace. The only hint of deception was the uncomfortable humidity. It stuck to me.
“How long do you think we have?” Serena asked, momentarily frozen by the sky looming overhead. It looked demonic, surreal, and uncertain.
“Give or take fifteen minutes,” I said. “Probably ten.”
She cringed. “I thought you might say that.”
“Don’t make it nine,” I bit back. Before she could respond, I took off running.
I had to get to Violet. I needed to. But most of all, I hoped Daniel would have the sense to close the adoption house after us.
Chances were we weren’t making it back. Not unscathed. And keeping the adoption house open at all would only risk others who didn’t deserve to face more danger. Not now. Not toward the end. But if I knew anything about the end—about death—it was the fact that it wasn’t fair. It was the one thing bad bloods and humans always had in common. Tonight, the reminder hung over us in the form of an all-seeing storm.
Weather didn’t discriminate—not like politics did—and neither did death.
As I stood on top of the Trident tower, the city below looked like Ellen and Plato’s stained glass—vibrant, beautiful, and very, very breakable. Behind me, Catelyn stood. A scarred bad blood turned political princess turned potential drowning victim.
“You don’t have to do this, Vi,” she screamed over the raging storm.
“No one has to do anything,” I agreed, but I doubted she heard.
No one ever did. Not even an entire city.
She spoke again. This time, her voice was lost on the winds. Instead, I heard the city’s cries. The way the steel moaned. The way the water smacked the outside wall. The way the city swayed.
Was this how Caleb heard music?
Afraid, powerful, alive, and deadly.
Droplets rattled off metal trees and empty leaves, and whirling compasses started to squeak. As the percussion increased, so did everything else. A cacophony of a storm. A breeze unable to breathe a note of music. An ending. An eternal eclipse of power.
And slowly, as if sensing it all, the rain stopped pouring, and I started to fall.
Three hundred stories above Vendona’s streets, I began to plummet in my human form—all flailing arms and whipping hair—before I shattered into a thousand shadowy pieces.
Without the storm’s rain weighing me down, I moved faster than I had ever moved before. If Adam could see me, I thought, he’d be ashamed at how slow he could run.
My speed beat time. Unfortunately, we were running low on the time we needed. If I could only stop it like Britney’s songs could, then we’d all be saved. But I remained a shadow and a girl, and sometimes—when I cried—I could become a monster, too.
Whatever worked.
When I found the western wall, a mob had already formed below it.
How Connelly had organized it all in a week was beyond me. Then again, maybe she hadn’t needed to ask for help. People waited for opportunity, after all. But opportunity could also be a mirage. A regrettable one. I knew that, because Connelly had been one to me. Now, I would be one to her.
I refused to be the gullible little girl she always thought I was.
With one twist of my torso and a flick of my wrist, my shadows wrapped around me in a hug before spitting me out into the hot summer sky. For once, flying didn’t feel so free. Instead, I appeared before the raging crowd, my ears ringing, my heart pounding, my adrenaline coursing, and with nothing serene to hold onto.
I raged.
Connelly was nowhere to be seen, but I waited. I trusted she’d come. In that time, the crowd began to take note of me.
“Vi! Violet!” Two voices screamed my name, but my mind struggled to comprehend their presence.
Caleb. Beside him, Serah.
When he tugged on her arm, she squirmed away from him, waving and cheering and dancing in the chaos. Definitely a mini Serena, but much too small and not nearly bad enough. And my actions had brought her here.
Politics isn’t the place for little girls, Vespasien had said.
But you’re not a little girl, Serena argued. Serah is.
Now I had words of my own.
“Go home!” I shouted, but the wind picked up my words. With it, my presence.
“It’s the ghost,” someone said.
“Ghost Girl!” another shouted.
“An omen, an omen, an omen,” a woman at the front prayed. She held the same symbol Hanna wore around her neck. I turned away, as to not remember my newly acquired friends.
“I’m not a ghost,” I screamed back, but my words were lost on Connelly.
“What do you want?”
In front of me, the blonde stood on the wall, a detonator in hand, her thumb hovering over the button.
When I first met her, I thought she had been the epitome of the tough chick I wanted to be—all boots and danger and unrelenting morale. What I hadn’t considered was how different her morals could be from mine—and how dangerous danger could truly be.
“Stop this,” I said, “and get everyone inside.”
Bad Bloods Page 14