‘Do you still think it was better to bring her here?’ Dom said in a low voice, the emotion he felt at seeing his sister like this making his hands shake. She was the same colour she had looked in the hospital, a grey-blue colour that matched the sky in the Necropolis.
Satarial hissed at him, a reptile warning that Dom ignored as he continued, ‘She might have survived there.’
‘Yes, she might. And she could have been happy here. But you were too weak to end her life.’
‘Alive is better than dead. She may still live.’
A strange noise drew Dom’s attention and he flipped his head to Kaide’s face. It was a choking sound and tears sprung to his eyes when he realised she was not unconscious. She was laughing. ‘Domdom, always the same.’ She struggled to breathe. ‘You weren’t very interested in being alive a few weeks ago.’ She laughed again. ‘I like it here, you know. I would have liked to be here for a while. And I wanted to do that Maze. It sounds like a blast.’ She grabbed his hand and reached for Satarial’s with the other. ‘But whatever, okay? Whatever happens is fine with me. Please don’t make this into a drama or a tragedy. It’s just what happens.’ She tried to sit up and failed. ‘Burgh, I’m so sick of being pathetic. I love you, Dom. I hope you win the Trials. It’s not as serious as you think.’
‘No? Really?’ He tried to smile at her through tear-filled eyes. ‘He’s trying to kill me.’
‘Well, you’re already dead, so stop bitching.’ Kaide turned her head to speak at Satarial, who kept his own icy eyes directed at the floor, ignoring both of them. His hands were even whiter than usual where they grasped hers. ‘He just wants someone to stand up to him, Dom, that’s all.’ She laughed again and it sounded worse. ‘This is morbid. I’m going to sleep. And if I don’t wake up, then I don’t. I love you both.’ She pulled Satarial’s hand up to her face and kissed it and fell asleep or into unconsciousness, Dom couldn’t tell. She looked like a corpse. But a peaceful one, he had to admit.
‘You still going to try and kill me tomorrow?’ Dom stood and stared across the bed at the Nephilim, who sat still for a long time.
Finally Satarial lifted his hand from Kaide’s cheek, taking her limp hand to his mouth and holding it there for a moment.
‘No.’ He stood casually. ‘You are already dead, remember.’ He left the room suddenly and without his usual grace and Dom tried to remind himself that he shouldn’t hate someone his sister clearly loved. His sister. He watched her face, barely moving despite the sucking breaths she was pulling forcefully into her body and coughing back out. He wasn’t sure what to feel. He kept holding her hand long after her last muscle strength had relaxed into deep sleep, and when he finally stood up to leave her breath had softened to short, quiet gasps. The light faded outside and he could feel the air cooling very slightly. Kaide was somewhere in between life and death and he couldn’t reach her in either place. Dom kissed her on her forehead and realised, as he did it, that he couldn’t remember ever kissing his sister before. He had sometimes hugged her when they met after months at boarding school, but aside from the playful jostling and punching Kaide aimed at him incessantly, they didn’t touch. Thinking of that he kissed her again and, in case it was his last chance, he said a quiet goodbye.
He let go of her hand and walked out of the darkening stone room. Deora was waiting for him and immediately tried to speak to him, moving closer than he wanted anyone to be at that moment. He gently pushed her away and when she persisted, he turned to her.
‘Leave me alone please. I just want to . . . be.’ He walked away, stumbling through the gardens and archways of the beautiful, old and cold palace until he reached the road that led him back to the dark City. Something about the darkness felt comforting to him tonight, the black stone was the perfect accompaniment to the way he felt and the odd, coloured lights of the houses and apartments seemed like a sad gothic fairytale, destined for an unhappy ending. Was he meant to have an unhappy ending? Had he built this for himself with all his over-thinking, over-analysing and depressive thoughts? He reached the bridge and could smell the clean coolness of the water.
He barely saw the figures in the darkness before they were in front of him, but when he recognised his Guide and Guardian waiting for him, he almost cried with relief. Eva lifted her hand a little in some sort of gesture, but Dom ignored it and threw his arms around her, tears threatening to fall if he spoke. She wrapped herself around him and held tight and, to his surprise, he felt the broad arms of Eduardo wrapped around both of them. They stood silently in their huddle for a few moments, nobody wanting to move until Dom let out a sudden snigger, which turned into a laugh that was impossible for him to control.
Eva pulled her head back and Eduardo loosened his grip. ‘What are you laughing about?’ she asked.
‘My aunt,’ he spluttered and the more he thought about it, the less he was able to make sense. ‘She, she talks to Angels.’ He burst out laughing again.
‘And?’ Eduardo was unamused.
‘And she said to me once when I was about five that any time I was feeling sad, my Guardian Angel would wrap his arms around me and hold me tight.’ He burst into more laughter and this time he couldn’t stop. Eva sniggered with him and finally lost control.
‘I suppose I was wearing a white dress?’ Eduardo said, his face completely straight.
‘Yes!’ The two could barely stand now.
The side of Eduardo’s mouth lifted in a small sneer. ‘You have no idea what the Angelus are capable of.’
‘Can you give me a pony for Christmas?’ Eva said suddenly, and she and Dom burst into new fits of laughter.
Eduardo suddenly lifted the two of them by their shoulders and threw them over the edge of the bridge into the river. Dom sputtered to the surface, surprised out of his laughter. He shook a fist up at the bridge.
‘Angry Angel.’ The water washed around him and he swirled his arms and legs through it to stay afloat. It was deep and cold, but it felt good. He felt some of the sadness of losing Kaide washing away. Not all of it, but some.
Eva was swimming towards the edge and he called to her. ‘Do you remember what water used to smell like?’
She smiled. ‘The river near my house when I was young smelled like smoky mud.’ She climbed up the smooth rocks onto the bank.
‘And the beach? It smelt like seaweed, remember. This has no smell, it’s so clean, it’s almost sweet.’ He took a mouthful of water and it tasted the same, completely unsullied, sterile and somehow candied. ‘I like this. It’s one of the things here that is really good.’ He climbed out and followed Eva up the bank and back towards the bridge. She squeezed the water out of her long braid, and Dom couldn’t help but watch her body in its wet, clinging tunic. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but he wasn’t sure how she would react and he could see Eduardo still watching them from the bridge.
He shook his own hair and drops of water flew out of his dreadlocks. They were so much longer now he could feel them on his back. He remembered just a few weeks ago waiting for them to be long enough to twist into braids. It was cool out of the water, even without a breeze, and the air on his wet skin was brisk. He trudged in his squelching shoes up towards the road to the Angel, who was already back to business.
‘You need sleep, Dominic. The Trials are in hours and you need to be as ready as you can be. Eva? You will bring the bag he needs for the Maze tomorrow and meet us there.’
She nodded and looked at Dom quickly. ‘I don’t think it will be as bad as you think.’
Dom had the dawning of a small amount of confidence and he let slip, ‘Deora told me . . .’
Eva snorted and turned back to the road.
Dom ignored her and offered the information to Eduardo instead. ‘Deora told me Satarial has something different planned, something new.’
Eduardo was instantly interested. ‘Hmm, I hesitate to say it, but that sounds like it might be a good thing. If you have to fight Nephilim . . .’ He trailed off as if afraid to
express the hope.
‘I know.’ Dom dared to get a little excited. ‘Although, what if I have to fight humans? Or Glassers?’
‘I don’t think they will bring in Glassers. The Nephilim despise them – they are too raw and filthy. And unpredictable. Nephilim like to be in control. Humans could be a problem though.’
Eva raised an eyebrow. ‘Why? If he can fight Nephilim who are faster, stronger and smarter, why wouldn’t he be able to fight humans?’
‘Because Nephilim are highly sensitive if you know where to strike. And Dominic does. Humans . . .’ Eduardo exhaled with what sounded almost like admiration, ‘humans can take an immense amount of pain and keep fighting. They can get back up long after you think they are defeated. They are a game of chance.’
‘Speaking of humans, the spectators will be a problem,’ Eva added. ‘You are popular, because you are young and everyone has heard of you, but they always end up helping to crush the contestant. They won’t allow anyone to win. It’s gotten so much worse lately. When I was first here, occasionally someone would win. But now there is so little hope. Nobody wants good for anyone else. It’s a disease.’
‘You must address the crowd before you fight. Tell them who you are. Ask them to fight for you.’ Eduardo said it quietly, but Dominic knew from his tone that it was not a sudden thought, the Angel had been thinking about the idea for a while.
‘Please be kidding. Have I not mentioned how much I hate people looking at me? Hate. It. People stared at me in India because I am black, in America because I have white parents, here because I am younger than everyone else. It’s not like they listen to me, though. Not a chance. I’m going to fight. Isn’t that enough?’ Dom felt a cold sweat shivering his skin even thinking about it.
Eva spoke even more quietly than Eduardo. ‘I think he’s right, Dom. The people here only need some inspiration to turn on the Nephilim. They are scared of them, and they want the entertainment they provide, but they don’t love them. You could probably turn the crowd to your advantage. Tell them to act. They’ll respect it coming from someone in the Arena.’
Dom shuddered. ‘I think you overestimate my public speaking abilities. I have been training to fight and I’ve learned a hell of a lot. But I am not some hero in a movie here. I’m ready to do it, I am, but I’m not the right person to inspire all those people. I just don’t know how to.’
‘Perhaps.’ Eduardo’s voice was soft and Dom sensed a disappointment that made him angry. Who was the Angel to expect him to do that anyway? He didn’t want to be some heroic gladiator, fighting for his life. He was doing it because . . . he suddenly couldn’t even remember why he was doing it. The Awe had asked him. A god. A woman. He had proven to be as much a sucker for those as the Angelus.
They walked silently up the stairs to their tiny room. The Guardian, the Guide and Dominic. He remembered their first night here, and it seemed almost a lifetime ago. He had thought it was a dream. Eva had been so annoyed with him, and Eduardo had been simply a tired, drunk man living in the past. The room was the same; dark except for the small glow of the far wall that throbbed slightly with warm light. The stretcher beds with their thin blankets, Eva’s neatly folded, his hanging half onto the floor, Eduardo’s untouched, and the wooden table and chairs, one of which was permanently positioned facing the wall so that Eduardo could sit up all night and look through the thin crack between buildings at the City as it sprawled into the distance, the muted coloured light fading into silhouette and then into a bland starless, cloudless sky.
He flopped onto his bed, exhausted. He barely had the energy to pull off his sodden and threadbare trainers and pull his blanket over his shoulders. He felt like one of those survivors he’d watched on television, a blanket draped around them and their faces stiff with surprised shock. Eduardo paused in front of him and squatted so that he could meet his eyes.
‘I will not push you. It is for you to do what you must do. But listen to me carefully when I say this. Listen.’ He placed his big hand on Dominic’s arm and his grip had a firm insistence. ‘You are here for a reason. Now. This time. You are the youngest man to reach the Necropolis. This is not for nothing, Dominic. This place has become a rotten shell of what it was supposed to be and you have a job to do. You can win. There is a way. I believe you can do it.’ He looked Dominic in the eye and Dom could see the strange golden flecks within his brown pupils: otherworldly.
‘Do you?’ Dom smiled wryly.
‘I do,’ he said, his face completely sincere. Finally though, he relaxed a little and smiled. ‘But as I said before, if you choose to lose, I will not be able to do anything about it. I can’t just fly you out of there with my bird wings.’
‘What about your horse wings?’ Dom smiled tiredly.
‘My bird wings are much faster than horse wings.’ Eduardo laughed mockingly and went to his chair and sat quietly, folding his arms and falling into his meditative stare out at the City.
Eva had unfastened her wet hair and was running her fingers through the knots that had formed. She sighed, pulled out her knife and cut her hair off at her elbow length, flicking the matted ends onto the floor and under the bed.
Dom laughed softly. ‘That works.’
She smiled. ‘Look how long yours is now.’
He reached around and felt his hair. ‘I would love to take these home to my mother.’ He laughed, feeling the thick length in his wiry hair. ‘Oh, she’d love them. Seriously, she is so concerned about my “embracing my African heritage”. Or was. I meant, was.’
They were silent for a while and Eva lay down on her mattress. ‘You have to get some sleep, Dom, you can’t be tired tomorrow.’
He had so much he wanted to say to her that he didn’t know where to start. After a long silence, he simply lay down, his head inches from hers. He wanted to know if she had forgiven him for kissing Deora. If she was going with him through the Maze. If she loved him. But he wasn’t sure he could listen to the answers.
‘Is my mum okay?’ she whispered.
He paused before answering. ‘Not really.’
They lay in silence until he asked the question that wouldn’t let him sleep. ‘Are you going to be there tomorrow?’
‘Yes.’
He could hear her breathing, irregular and awake, for a long time. Eduardo stared out at the City and waited for the past. Dom wished he felt the way he had after his last encounter with the Awe – as though he could act on every thought and desire without fear, but the feeling had vanished when he had gone back into life. He had to fight with himself again, over everything. Finally, he reached his hand across the gulf between their small beds and laid it on the pillow next to Eva. He heard her breathing change a little and he bit his lip, ready to pull his arm back. Then her cold hand slipped into his and held it tight, and his heart contracted in relief.
He might die tomorrow, or be drowned or burned or caged or whatever Satarial could think up for him, but he would be able to think about Eva while he wallowed in forever; he’d be able to think about how the most amazing girl he had ever met, alive or dead, had held his hand the night before. He smiled briefly in the darkness. People had been facing the night before death for a thousand years. Somehow they had slept. Somehow they had breathed and survived until the morning.
He lay awake for a long time and felt Eva’s hand go limp and her breath steady as she fell asleep. He kept waiting, watching Eduardo’s still form and glancing around the room expectantly. He hated to admit he was waiting for the Awe to appear because it seemed a little arrogant for him to think the source of life would appear to him simply because he wanted it. But he did. He would never be doing this in the first place if it were not for the Awe. He lay and waited.
There was nothing. Silence in the City of the Dead was true silence. There was no wind to rattle frames or whistle through the trees; no cars screeching or neighbourhood animals provoking each other or climbing the gutter, or as in India, cattle wandering the streets. Very occasionally he would he
ar the distant sound of a Glass addict shrieking in the forest, or a fight on the streets, but it was so rare that as the sound faded away he was always unsure if he had imagined it or not.
Nothing happened. It felt like hours and still nothing happened. No light or warmth or strange contented feeling. Nothing. He was becoming agitated. What if this was all a mistake and he had imagined the Awe completely? What if he had based this entire stupid, dangerous venture on some figment of his imagination? He was dead after all, it wouldn’t be a big stretch to be insane as well.
‘Oh, come on,’ he said aloud, finally. Eduardo turned towards him, but didn’t speak, turning back eventually to the City. Still nothing. Silence and flat, matte darkness and nothing. Dom sighed. He had never prayed when he was alive so he had never begged a god to rescue him, but he had seen it in films, and he knew what it looked like. A desperate person asking for help from what was inevitably silence. It had always seemed like a sad form of martyrdom. Ask for something you don’t believe you can have and then you truly get to feel sorry for yourself.
And now it was his turn. He felt foolish and alone and worse than all of that, without options. He could run, he supposed, grab his minutes and go. The bag full of his equipment was stashed under the corner of his cot. Or he could fight.
There was nowhere to hide in the City, the Nephilim would find him and drag him out to the Arena and then he would be fighting without even his dignity. But if he ran, who was he? The kid who said he would fight, but ran away. Like his mother. Saying she would fight things and then drinking herself into apathy.
He could go and throw himself in the Glass. That would be one way. Leave his minutes here and throw himself into oblivion. No one would even know what had happened to him. But the thought actually made him snort aloud – he had never thought death would be so much work. What if there was something worse waiting? That would serve him right. He felt terrified when he wanted to be feeling confident and brave. He clenched and unclenched his fists and twisted positions and tried to find a place that felt peaceful, but all he wanted to do was curl up on the floor and sob and scream.
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