“I’ve known a few people with empty minds, but I wouldn’t call them wise.” Harris smiled, his eyes flicking to Trip. “To us, bells are noises of lightness and good. Are you alone, Aria?”
“No. I’m with an Outsider.”
It was darker now, but by the soft light of the Aether, she saw his eyebrows furrow.
“I meant one of you,” she said, realizing they wouldn’t call themselves Outsiders.
“Ah . . . that’s good. This is dangerous land. I’m sure your companion told you.”
“Yes. He did.”
Trip snorted. “Nearly soiled myself when I heard you sneaking up on us.”
Rat lifted his big nose and sniffed the air. He shoved Trip in the shoulder. “Nearly?”
Harris smiled apologetically. “We have enough food to share and a fire going. Why don’t you and your companion join us tonight? If you think you can put up with these two.”
“I don’t think so. But thank you.” She realized she was gripping the handle of the knife so tight her knuckles throbbed. Why did she have a knife? She lowered it. As frightening as he’d looked with the mask on, Harris seemed friendly now. Far more than her Outsider, whose name she didn’t even know. And Harris talked.
“Well,” she said, reconsidering. “I could see what he says.”
“I say no.”
They all turned sharply toward the voice uphill. It was her Outsider. He was barely visible in the faint light of dusk.
Aria was just going to call out to him when she heard a sound like a wet slap, followed by the ringing of bells. Rat tripped and fell backward. At least, this was what Aria thought until she saw a stick—no, an arrow—lodged in his throat.
She didn’t think. She spun and ran. Trip caught her arm and trapped it, twisting the knife from her fingers. Then he laid the blade on her neck and thrust her arm behind her. Aria gasped at the burst of pain in her shoulder. His stench brought a sickening roll to her stomach.
“Lower your bow or I’ll kill her!” Trip’s voice exploded by her ear.
She saw him now. The Outsider had come closer. He stood by the cave, his legs and arms lined up with his bow, a weapon he had been carrying for days but that somehow she’d forgotten about. He’d taken off his white shirt, and his skin blended into the murky woods.
“Do what he says!” Aria cried. What was he doing? It was too dark. He would hit her instead of Trip.
She saw movement to her left. Harris started up the hill toward the Outsider. He no longer held the staff but a long knife that reflected the Aether light. He drew closer in determined strides. The Outsider kept still as a statue, either not seeing Harris or not caring.
Trip’s panicked breath pumped hot foul air against her cheek. “Lower your bow!” he yelled.
She didn’t see anything this time either, but she knew he’d fired another arrow. Aria heard a pop and then she jolted backward. She tumbled over Trip. Momentum carried her down the slope. Her knee struck something sharp as she hit the ground. She sprang to her feet despite the stab of pain that shot down her leg.
Trip lay twitching on his side, an arrow stuck in the left part of his chest. She turned uphill, terror like a shriek in her ears. She’d seen people wrestle and fence in the Realms. She had some idea of what a true fight might look like. Parrying and deflecting. Footwork and guards. She couldn’t have been more wrong.
Harris and the Outsider swept past each other in streaks of movement, one bare-skinned, the other draped in black cloth. She could just make out the flash of a knife or the twisting crow mask. She wanted to run. She didn’t want to see this. But she couldn’t bring herself to move.
It took no more than seconds, though it felt much longer. Their bodies slowed and parted. The cloaked figure, Harris, hit the ground in a black heap. The bare-skinned Outsider stood above him.
Then she saw something roll downhill as if it had been bowled toward her. It hit a bump that shook loose a pale mask, and now she saw clear blue eyes and a nose and white teeth and black hair, tumbling over the dirt and trailing red.
Chapter 16
PEREGRINE
“No, no, no.” Aria shook her head, her eyes were wide with terror. “What just happened?”
Perry skidded over loose gravel as he sprinted downhill to her. “Are you hurt?”
She leaped back. “Stay away from me! Don’t touch me.” Her hand came to her stomach. “What just happened? What did you just do?”
Every scent came to Perry clear and strong on the cool night air. Blood and smoke. Her fear, like ice. And something else. A pungent bitterness. He inhaled, scanning, and saw the source. Dark patches stained the front of her shirt.
“What is that?” he asked.
Her head whipped to the side like she expected to see someone. Perry grabbed a fistful of her shirt. She grazed him with a punch to the chin.
“Hold still!” He trapped her wrist and brought the shirt up, drawing the scent in. He couldn’t believe it. “That’s why you left? You left for those berries?”
Then he saw that she was wearing the device over her eye again. Those men could have taken the eyepiece. Then how would he have gotten Talon back? She pulled out of his grasp.
“You slaughtered them,” she said, her lips trembling. “Look what you did.”
Perry pressed his fist to his mouth and stalked away, not trusting himself to be near her. He’d crossed the Croven’s scent soon after he had left her. Perry knew they were heading toward the shelter of the cave. He’d taken another path, had sprinted to get there first, only to find the cave empty. By the time he’d picked up her trail and followed it, he’d been too late. She had brought him right back to the cave.
Perry rounded on her. “Stupid Dweller. I told you to stay here! You left to pick poisonous berries.”
She shook her head, turning a stunned look from the Croven’s dead body to him. “How could you? They wanted to share their food with us . . . and you just killed them.”
Perry was coming off the rush and beginning to shake. She didn’t know what he had scented from those men. Their ache for her flesh had been so potent it had nearly scored his nostrils. “Fool. You were going to be their food.”
“No . . . no. . . . They didn’t do anything. You just started shooting at them. . . . You did this. You’re worse than the stories, Savage. You’re a monster.”
He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “This is the third time I save your life and that’s what you call me?” He had to get away from her. He jabbed a finger into the dark, pointing east. “Mount Arrow is on the other side of that ridge. Head three hours that way. Let’s see how you do on your own out here, Mole.”
He spun and broke into a run, plunging swiftly into the woods. He pounded his rage into the earth but slowed after a few miles. He wanted to leave her, but he couldn’t. She had the Smarteye. And she was a Mole who lived in fake worlds. What did she know about surviving out here?
He circled back and found her, keeping far enough away that she wouldn’t see him. She had Talon’s knife in her hand. Perry cursed at himself. How had he forgotten that? He watched as she picked through the woods with surprising quiet and care. After a while, he realized she was managing to keep a straight course too. He’d wanted to see her panic. She hadn’t, and that streaked him even more. With only a short distance left to go, he pulled ahead and ran the rest of the way.
It was still dark when he reached the Blackfins compound. Perry caught his breath as he absorbed the shocking scene around him. The compound looked nothing like the bustling settlement he’d seen a year ago. Now, it was crushed. Abandoned. All its scents faded and old. A picked-over carcass at the foot of Mount Arrow.
Aether storms and fires had leveled all but one of the homes, but one was all he needed. There was no door and only part of a roof. He dropped his satchel at the threshold so she’d know where to find him. Then he went inside and sank onto a battered straw mattress. Above him the broken roof’s timbers stuck out like ribs.
> Perry dropped his arm over his eyes.
Had he left her too soon?
Had she gotten lost?
Where was she?
Finally he heard faint footsteps. He looked toward the door in time to see her rest her head on his satchel. Then he closed his eyes and slept.
He stepped outside quietly the next morning. Her small camouflage-clad form was curled against the wall, lit by the hazy light of a clouded sky. Aria’s black hair fell over her face, but he could see she’d taken off the device. She held it in her hand like it was one of the rocks she collected. Then he saw her bare feet. Dirty. Wet with blood. Raw flesh showing where the skin had peeled back or fallen off completely. The book covers must have broken after he’d left her.
What had he done?
She stirred, peering at him through her lashes before she sat up against the house. Perry shifted his weight, wondering what to say. He didn’t mull it over long before her temper came at him, bringing him a rush of alarm.
“Aria, what’s wrong?”
She stood, moving slow and defeated. “I’m dying. I’m bleeding.”
Perry’s gaze traveled down her body.
“It’s not my feet.”
“Did you eat any of those berries?”
“No.” She held out her hand. “You might as well have this. Maybe it’ll still help you find the boy you’re looking for.”
Perry closed his eyes and inhaled. Her scent had changed. The rancy Dweller musk was almost gone. Her skin breathed a new scent into the air, faint but unmistakable. For the first time since he’d known her, her flesh smelled like something he recognized, feminine and sweet.
He smelled violets.
He took a step back, swearing silently as it hit him. “You’re not dying. . . . You really don’t know?”
“I don’t know anything anymore.”
Perry looked down at the ground and drew another breath, no doubt in his mind.
“Aria . . . it’s your first blood.”
Chapter 17
ARIA
Since she had been thrown out of Reverie, she’d survived an Aether storm, she’d had a knife held to her throat by a cannibal, and she’d seen men murdered.
This was worse.
Aria didn’t recognize herself. She felt like she’d donned a pseudo-body in a Realm and couldn’t get out of it.
Her mind ran in circles. She was bleeding. Like an animal. Dwellers didn’t menstruate. Procreating happened through genetic design, then a special course of hormones and implantation. Fertility was used strictly when needed. How terrifying to think she could conceive at random.
Maybe the outside air was changing her. Maybe she was breaking down. Malfunctioning. How would she explain this to her mother? What if she couldn’t be fixed and this happened to her again, what, every month?
She’d been prepared for death. Death was to be expected on the outside. A normal consequence of being tossed into the Death Shop. But no matter how she looked at it, menstruating was utterly barbaric. She lay down on the filthy mattress, feeling much the same. Filthy. She closed her eyes, hoping to shut out the horrible outside world. She imagined lying on the white sand of her favorite beach Realm, listening to the soft lapping of the waves as she began to relax.
Aria tried to restart her Smarteye again.
It worked flawlessly.
All her icons were back, exactly where they should be. The icon of Aria strangling herself slid to the center of her screen, flashing a reminder.
SINGING SUNDAY. 11 A.M.
She chose it and fractioned instantly. Swaths of the Opera House’s crimson curtain billowed in front of her. Aria reached out, touching the thick velvet. She’d never seen it move like this, in rolling waves. She stepped forward, feeling through the heavy cloth for the center seam. She felt the curtain shift as it surrounded her. She turned in circles and saw no way out. Panicked, she pushed out her arms, but the material grew coarse as gravel beneath her touch.
Lumina! Aria yelled, but no sound came from her. Mom! she tried again. Where had her voice gone? She grabbed hold of the curtain and pulled with all her strength. It came loose with a lurch and began to spin, turning around her in a funnel, blowing her hair into her eyes and drawing closer with every second. She wouldn’t let herself be swallowed by it. Aria counted to three and dove into the whirling mass.
Instantly she appeared at center stage. Lumina sat in her usual seat in the front row. Why did she seem so far, like she was a mile away? What kind of Realm was this?
Mom? Aria still couldn’t hear her voice. Mom!
“I knew you’d come,” Lumina said, but her smile faded quickly. “Aria, is that another joke?”
A joke? Aria looked down. She was in camouflaged army clothes. Here, in the formal opera hall. No, Mom!
She wanted to tell Lumina what had happened. About Soren and Consul Hess and being thrown out with the Savage. But the words wouldn’t come. Tears of frustration blurred her vision. She looked down, not wanting her mother to see, and noticed a small book in her hands. A libretto. The lyrics of an opera. She didn’t know where she’d gotten it or when. Flowers drawn in ink scrolled across the faded parchment, twining together to form letters.
ARIA
Dread seeped through her. Was this her story? She opened the book and recognized the image inside instantly. A double-helix spiral turned on the page. DNA.
“It’s a gift, Aria.” Lumina smiled. “Aren’t you going to sing, Songbird? No Cannibal Candy this time, please. Though it was certainly amusing.”
Aria wanted to scream. She needed to tell her mother that she was sorry and that she was furious at her and where was she? Where was she? Aria tried again and again, but she couldn’t make a sound. She couldn’t even hear herself breathe.
“I see,” Lumina said. She rose and smoothed down her tailored black dress. “I’d hoped you’d changed your mind. I’ll be here when you’re ready,” she said, and vanished.
Aria blinked at the gilded hall. “Mom?” Her voice startled her. “Mom!” she yelled, but it was too late. For long moments, she stood on the stage, feeling the vastness of the hall, the emptiness of it, as a feeling built in her as if she might explode. She didn’t know when she started screaming. And then she didn’t know how to stop. The sound coming out of her grew louder and louder, like it would never end. The Grand Chandelier began to shake first and then the gilded columns and box seats. And then, at once, the walls and seats shattered, sending gold and plaster and crimson velvet everywhere.
Aria flew upright, gasping, clutching the ratty mattress beneath her. Her Smarteye rested in the palm of her hand, moist with the sweat of her nightmare.
The Outsider strode into the house a moment later. He peered at her suspiciously as he handed her a chunk of meat and then left. Aria ate, too numb to make any sense of what had just happened. She’d dreamed. Now both her body and mind felt foreign.
She heard the Outsider moving through the rubble outside. She sat back and listened to the thud of rocks hitting earth, or clacking sharply as they struck other rocks. Hours had passed when he returned carrying the navy blanket cinched like a sling.
He set it down without a word and spread it out, revealing a pile of odd things. A ring rolled over the fleece before it settled to a stop. She noticed a blue gemstone set into the thick gold band just as he swept it up and dropped it into his satchel. He sat on his heels and cleared his throat.
“I found a few things for you. . . . A coat. It’s made of wolf fur. It’ll get colder as we move farther up the mountain so it’ll keep you warmer.” He glanced at her, then back at the pile. “Those boots are in fair shape. A touch big but they should work. The cloths are clean. Boiled.” A fleeting smile crossed his lips, though his eyes remained downcast. “They’re for . . . whatever you want to do with them. There are a few other things. I brought what I could find.”
She looked at the random assortment, emotion sticking like glue in her throat. A ragged old leather coat with hol
es she could poke her fingers through but lined with thick silvery fur. A black knitted cap with a few feathers slipped into the woven wool. A piece of leather with a buckle that looked like it had once been a horse bridle but would serve better as a belt than the gauze she used now. He’d spent hours locating these things. Digging them up, as he had their water and the thistle roots. Like most things needed to be on the outside.
“What you said about my Markings . . . my tattoos,” he continued. “You were on the right track.” He looked up, meeting her eyes. “I’m called Peregrine. Like the falcon. People call me Perry.”
He had a name. Peregrine. Perry. New information to consider. Did it suit him? Did it mean something? But Aria found she couldn’t even look at him. A Savage had needed to explain to her that she was menstruating. She bit into her raw inner lip and tasted blood. Her eyes blurred. She had never thought so much about blood before. Now she couldn’t get away from it.
“Why did you do this?” she asked. “Find all this stuff for me?” Pity. It had to be out of pity that he’d gathered all of this and told her his name.
“You needed it.” He rubbed a hand over the back of his head. Then he sat down, propping his long arms over his knees and lacing his fingers together. “You thought you were dying this morning. But you brought me the eyepiece anyway. You were going to give it to me of your own will.”
Aria picked up a rock. She’d developed a habit of lining them up. By color. By size. By shape. Making sense of the randomness she’d admired at first. Now she just looked at the conglomerate chunk in her hand, wondering why she’d ever bothered pocketing such an ugly mixed-up thing.
She didn’t know if she’d brought the Smarteye back to be noble, exactly. Maybe so. But maybe she’d done it because she knew he’d been right about the cannibals. And she owed him for saving her life. Three times.
“Thank you.” She didn’t sound very grateful and wished she had. She knew she needed these things, and needed his help. But she didn’t want to need anything.
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