Black City

by Elizabeth Richards

  “Mmm-mmm. So, you looking forward to Beetle’s party tonight?” I ask to change the subject.

  She grimaces. “Not really. Beetle hates me.”

  “And Day hates me.”

  “It’s going to be a fun night,” she says. “Anyone else coming?”

  I laugh. “Nope. Beetle’s not exactly popular around here.”

  Natalie bites her lip shyly. “So it’ll just be the four of us? Like a double date?”

  I hadn’t thought of it like that, but . . . oh, fragg, are we going on a date?

  “Uh-huh” is all I manage to say.

  “Everybody circle up,” Sebastian calls out.

  We gather back in our group, and I sit as close to Natalie as possible without being too obvious.

  “Well, to say your sword-fighting skills are appalling would be a gross understatement,” Sebastian says. “Peter Gibb, you have to keep your eyes open when you strike. Gregory, you fight like you’re trying to hack your way through a jungle. Natalie . . . good work.”

  She blushes slightly, and my fangs throb again.

  “When are we going to learn how to control our V-gene powers?” Gregory says.

  “You need a Darkling to learn how to do that, and you pathetic excuses for soldiers are in no position to be in a room with a Darkling.”

  “What about Ash?” Gregory suggests.

  “No way!” I reply.

  Sebastian scratches his chin as he weighs this up. “All right, let’s give it a go. You’re all so awful at fighting, it might be your only chance of survival, and you’ll need to learn this before you go on your first hunt next week.”

  “We’re going on a hunt? Awesome,” Gregory says.

  “I’m not going to be anyone’s guinea pig,” I say, but no one’s listening to me.

  Natalie stands up and gives me a weak smile.

  Sebastian turns off the light, plunging the hall into darkness, and there are a few startled exclamations from the cadets. His voice drifts out from the gloom, moving around the room as he walks easily between us, even though he must not be able to see a thing. That’s one big advantage I have over him: I can see in the dark.

  “Spread out around the room. I want you all to focus on Ash. Picture him in your mind’s eye. You should experience a faint electric shock when you sense him—this is your V-gene triggering. The sensation won’t be as strong with a half-blood, but you’ll still be able to detect him. I can.”

  With a swift, deft movement Sebastian swings his sword and slices off some of my hair.

  “What the fragg!” I say, leaping back. “You could’ve chopped my head off.”

  He just laughs in response.

  “Seb, we can’t run around a dark room swinging swords at each other. Someone will get hurt,” Natalie says.

  “Fair enough. Everybody, place your weapons on the ground. When you find the nipper, just tap him on the shoulder and say, ‘Tag, you’re dead.’”

  My fangs flood with venom, enraged at being called a nipper. Right, you asked for it. This is war.

  There’s a clatter of metal as everyone puts the swords on the ground, then the cadets start to move around the room, their arms outstretched, searching for me like they’re playing a game of Blind Man’s Bluff. Only Natalie and Gregory remain still, both of them trying to channel their V-gene.

  “Over here,” I whisper.

  A number of cadets lurch toward me, but I deftly move out of the way, and they crash into each other. This is going to be fun! I silently patrol the room, occasionally knocking the wall beside one of the cadets to draw their attention away from the group. I tag three out within a minute.

  I tap another unsuspecting cadet on the shoulder. “Tag, you’re dead.”

  The cadet grumbles and sits out.

  “Don’t underestimate your opponent,” Claw Neck says in the gloom. “Darklings will often try and lure you away from the pack so you’re easier to take down.”

  Is that what I’ve been doing? I hadn’t realized—it was just instinct.

  There’s movement from the center of the room, and Gregory starts walking roughly in my direction, slowly, deliberately.

  “Come out, come out, wherever you are, nipper,” he says.

  He veers off to the right, clearly not sensing me at all. Natalie, on the other hand, heads straight for me. I’m too stunned to move at first, and she’s almost upon me before I gather my wits and sidestep out of her way. She immediately turns and comes for me again. Even in the dark, I can tell she’s smiling.

  “There’s no point running, Ash. I can feel you,” she whispers.

  She almost gets me again. Bloody hell! She really can sense me!

  Well, there’s no way I’m letting her get the better of me. I’ll never live it down. I pounce at Natalie, knocking her off her feet and pinning her against the wall.

  “Tag, you’re dead,” I whisper mockingly in her ear.

  Somewhere in the dark, Sebastian and the cadets move about the room, closing in.

  I release Natalie’s arms and expect her to walk away, but instead her hand moves up to my face and she lightly traces her fingers over my lips, brushing across my fangs, making them throb with venom. My breath catches in my throat at her forbidden touch. What’s she doing? If they catch her doing this to me . . .

  “You can run, but you can’t hide,” Gregory taunts somewhere to my right.

  Shame squirms inside my gut, loathing how my body’s responding to her. A million reasons run through my head why I should push her away, but I don’t. Instead, I do the one thing I shouldn’t: I reach out my hand and gently touch her face. She lets out a soft, breathy moan as my fingertips explore the contours of her face. In a weird way, this is the first time I’ve truly “seen” her; my fingertips chart a map of her features, committing every tiny detail to memory. Desire and guilt wage a war inside me, and I’m torn between wanting her and my loyalty to my species. She’s a Sentry. This is so wrong! And yet I’m unable to control myself. My fingers brush over her smooth skin, running past the dimple on her left cheek before finding the soft fullness of her lips.

  “Ash,” she sighs, tilting her head up.

  Her lips touch mine. They barely make contact, but a force like a lightning bolt shoots through them and straight into my heart. An explosion of pain erupts inside my chest. Natalie stumbles back, and I know she’s as stunned as I am because that’s when I feel it:

  A second heartbeat pounding inside my chest.

  “Natalie . . .”

  Rough hands grab me in the dark, and Gregory whoops victoriously. “Tag, you’re dead, nipper.”

  The lights flick on, and I quickly step away from Natalie. She studies me through thick lashes. Something’s wrong. Her lips are pale, and she’s struggling to breathe.

  “What did you do to her, mongrel?” Sebastian demands as he rushes over to her.

  She opens her mouth, but no words form. Instead she turns on her heel and runs out of the hall, slamming the doors behind her. As soon as she’s gone, the pain in my chest fades, until I almost believe it never happened. Did I imagine it? Then why did she react like that?

  Did she feel it too?

  17

  NATALIE

  SEBASTIAN TAKES ME HOME, fussing over me the whole way back. As soon as we step inside the door, I head to Craven’s lab, pretending to need some more heart medicine. My lips still tingle from my almost kiss with Ash, my heart racing at my reckless behavior. What possessed me to caress him like that, in front of everyone? He must think I’m mad! Except . . . he touched me back.

  Something really strange happened between us in that hall. Did I really feel Ash’s heart beating inside me? How is that even possible? Twin-bloods’ hearts don’t beat! I nee
d to speak to Craven. Maybe he’s heard about this happening before.

  He’s alone in the laboratory, hunched over a microscope, his half-moon spectacles perched on the end of his long nose. On the workbench beside him are beakers filled with a rainbow of pretty, colorful liquids: reds, golds, greens, whites and blues.

  I pass the door with the silver marker above it on my way to Craven. What’s inside there?

  “Hello, young lady. What can I do for you?” he says.

  I can’t look directly at him—I’m terrified he might see the guilt written all over my face. No one must ever know what I did with Ash.

  “I have a science question. We’re covering genetics in biology, and my teacher said that twin-blood hearts don’t beat. Is that right?”

  Craven wipes his glasses. “That’s correct.”

  “A boy in my class said he knew of a twin-blood who had a heartbeat, but is that even possible? Has it ever happened?”

  “I don’t think so. Half-breeds’ hearts don’t beat, because there’s simply no need for them to.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Well, the official line is that twin-bloods are Damned souls forced to live between the realms of the living and the dead.” Craven raises a skeptical brow. He collects a blood sample from the fridge and places the slide under the microscope. I peer through the lens. Tiny microscopic creatures wriggle around in the blood plasma.

  “What are they?”

  “Trypanosoma vampirum. They’re what keep twin-bloods alive. They feed oxygen to their organs—”

  “So their hearts don’t have to do it?”

  “Exactly. So it becomes dormant. It’s just one of the many quirks of mixing Darkling and human DNA.”

  “Can their hearts ever become . . . er . . . undormant?”

  “I’ve never heard of it happening.”

  My shoulders slump. I must’ve been imagining things. I mean, I kissed Ash . . . sort of. That’s going to make any girl’s heart pop, right? That’s clearly all it was.

  I go upstairs, more confused than ever. I have to talk to him about it tonight at Beetle’s party, but what will I say? I don’t know how I feel about our near kiss. Mother would never forgive me if she found out I was attracted to a Darkling, and I can’t simply forget the fact a Wrath killed my father. But didn’t he want Darklings and humans to be together, as equals? Would he really mind?

  I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on. There’s no point getting my head in a spin until I know how Ash feels about what happened. First things first. I need to ditch Sebastian somehow, as there’s no way I’m letting him follow me to Beetle’s barge and ruin everything. My best bet is getting a new guard to look after me; I’ll work out how to ditch them when I get to Beetle’s place.

  I go to Mother’s room. She’s sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at the pearl bracelet in her hand. She’s dressed in a long blue gown, cinched in at the waist to accentuate her fashionably skinny frame, and her glossy black hair is tied up in a bun, giving her gaunt face a stretched look. If I hugged her, I’m sure she’d shatter like glass. I guess it’s lucky she never wants me to touch her.

  “Everything okay?” I ask.

  “I can’t do up the clasp.”

  I clip the bracelet around her slim wrist.

  “I’m presuming this wasn’t a social call. What do you want?” Mother says.

  “I want a new bodyguard.”

  “This again?”

  “Yes, this again. You know Sebastian and I aren’t dating anymore. It’s getting awkward having him around all the time.” I don’t add that I’ve got a date with a twin-blood tonight and don’t want Sebastian finding out.

  “Fine,” Mother says wearily.

  “Thanks!” Wow, that was easier than I expected.

  “But only in the evenings and weekends. Sebastian will continue to take you to and from school.”

  I knew I’d gotten away with that too easily. “Why?”

  “Because I said so,” she says.

  It’s better than nothing.

  I hurry to my bedroom and instantly start searching for the perfect outfit to wear tonight, pulling off my clothes at the same time. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the full-length mirror and pause, my eyes resting on the raised scar scratched down my heart. It was so silly of me to think I’d felt Ash’s heart beating inside me. Like Craven said, it’s not possible. Besides, even if twin-bloods did have a heartbeat, that wouldn’t explain what I felt inside my own chest. The only rational explanation is my heart was overexerted from the sword fighting and I had a funny turn, that’s all. Then why don’t I believe that?

  Half an hour later, I’m dressed and ready, wearing black cropped pants tucked into over-knee boots, a bustier top and Ash’s jacket. I open my bedroom door, and Sebastian’s waiting for me in the hallway.

  “You replaced me?” he says.

  I push past him, checking Father’s watch on my wrist. The crystal is cracked, but I can still just make out the time underneath it: six fifty. I’m going to be late! Sebastian chases after me.

  “Get a clue!” I yell at him. “I don’t want you around me anymore, all right?”

  “I won’t let you ditch me like this,” he says.

  “Get out of my way before I get my new guard to escort you out of the building.”

  Sebastian’s jaw clenches, but he steps aside.

  My new guard, Malcolm, is waiting for me by the front door. He’s around forty years old, with slicked-back brown hair and eyes that are constantly searching his surroundings.

  “Any chance you won’t come?” I say.

  He shakes his head, and I roll my eyes.

  We go outside. The air feels rinsed after the rain, and I anxiously pat down my hair, trying to tame the frizz. All around us, colorful flags have been strung across the streets in preparation for the Armistice Day celebrations this Saturday. I wonder if Ash still wants to see me tonight. After my running out on him earlier today, I’m probably the last person he wants to see. But maybe (I’m clutching at straws here) he wants to talk about what happened? I mean, I felt his heart beating inside me! I think. Oh, I don’t know! It sounds so crazy, but something happened.

  I’m so busy thinking about Ash that I don’t immediately notice the air temperature around me dropping a few degrees. A sudden electric shock crosses my skin, making my flesh goose pimple, just the way it did during Tracker training when my V-gene triggered. Malcolm stops. He’s sensed it too.

  “What?” I whisper.

  He surveys our surroundings, checking the shadows for signs of movement.

  “Do you see anything?” I ask, my heart hammering. “Is it a rogue Wrath?”

  Wraths have been getting over the wall more often these days, mainly because there are so many of them as the disease continues to spread through the Legion ghetto. The Wraths don’t have any fear of being caught by Trackers; that part of their brain has turned off. All they want is to hunt.

  “No,” he says quietly. “You can smell those a mile off . . .”

  He waits another moment, then signals for me to carry on. His hand doesn’t leave his sword the entire way to Beetle’s boat. I keep close, worrying that the Darkling we sensed was the same one who killed Truffles and followed me to the museum. I can’t feel it anymore, though; perhaps seeing Malcolm scared it off?

  “Wait here,” I say to Malcolm when we get to the embankment.

  He scowls at me.

  “For His Mighty’s sake! I’m going to be on the barge with my friends. No one’s going to hurt me, and you’ll know exactly where I am. We’ll only be going a short way down the canal.”

  He makes a gruff noise that I interpret as “okay.”

  The yellow barge is
lit with strings of glass lanterns, the kaleidoscope of colored light reminding me of Winterfest. Beetle and Day are already on the deck, drinking Shine from coffee mugs and flirting with each other. Beetle’s normally unruly hair is clean and brushed, and he’s wearing a smart shirt and black pants, while Day is wearing a simple but pretty blue dress. Beetle sees me first and mutters something, which I know isn’t a compliment, given the punch on the arm he receives from Day.

  Beetle spots Malcolm watching from the embankment. “Is he coming with us?”

  “No. I told him to stay put.”

  Day offers me a drink, and I take it, looking past her shoulder for any signs of Ash. My stomach sinks when I can’t see him.

  “If it’s just going to be us three, I can go and leave you two alone,” I say.

  “Ash is joining us in a minute; he’s waiting under the bridge. I figured you’d bring a guard, so we thought it best he hang back,” Beetle says.

  Beetle starts the engine, and a minute later, we’re cruising down the waterway, the chilly air brushing against my skin, the stars sparkling overhead. I wrap my arms around myself, my breath a ghostly mist as it spills out of my parted lips. It’s going to snow soon.

  We approach the bridge, and Beetle eases up on the throttle, slowing the boat. There’s a heavy thud as the boat rocks to one side. Ash appears a second later. He’s still dressed in his Tracker uniform from training earlier today and looks oh so gorgeous in the red coatee and black trousers. His black eyes meet mine, and my knees feel weak.

  “What are you wearing, bro? It’s not a costume party,” Beetle says.

  “It’s just easier walking around the city wearing this. People respect Trackers,” Ash replies.

  “That’s not respect—it’s fear, and you of all people should know that. How can you?” Beetle says.

  Ash grabs a drink and knocks it back in one hit. “Leave it alone. I don’t see what the big deal is. It’s just a uniform.”

  “That’s bull, and you know it,” Beetle replies.

  “Fragg off. What do you know about anything?” Ash says. “Do you have any idea what it’s like being a twin-blood in this city? I’m not going to apologize for wanting an easy life for once.”