“They might keep a little down,” she says. “We have to hope for that.” She studies the Dweller before her—a girl my age—and her face softens with sympathy. The girl is delicate as a bird, with short black hair that spikes up like the leaves of an artichoke. Her green skin color only enhances the resemblance. Like that of all the Dwellers around me, her immune system collapsed. She looks ready for a burial at sea.
“Her name is Rune.” Molly runs a hand over the girl’s head, smoothing down her hair. “I spoke with her briefly when she stirred a little while ago. She’s one of Aria’s friends.”
I can’t believe she touches them. “And you’re telling me this why?”
Molly’s amber eyes find mine. She shakes her head slightly, but her expression is kind. “You could make more of an effort, Brooke.”
“I’m making an effort, Molly. Many efforts, in fact. I’m giving them water. I’m holding buckets while they retch. You know the boy? The burly one—Soren? He vomited on me ten minutes ago. Spewed on me. Look at my sleeve.” I hold it out, showing her. How much more am I supposed to do? I left my sister’s side to be here.
Molly watches me like she’s not sure if she wants to say something else. I notice the lines around her eyes. Her face holds a sheen of perspiration, a few heavier drops beading over her thin lips. She’s exhausted. She’s been here since the Dwellers came in. I wish she didn’t care so much about everyone. It’s sucking the life out of her.
Her attention shifts, her eyes twinkling with reflected lamplight as they take in the feverish Dwellers around the cavern. “You’re right.” Molly pushes a strand of hair away from her face and lets out a long sigh. “We need to find another way to handle this. I’d better have a talk with Marron to see what else we might do.” With a muffled groan, she stands. “You’ll need to stay here alone for a few minutes.” She hesitates. “Try to be nice, Brooke?”
“Sure. I’ll try,” I grumble, though I’ll do no such thing. People who try to be nice are false. They’re liars. You should never force your behavior to be a certain way. You should just be. Maybe it’s not going to be nice, but at least it’ll be honest. “When you get back, can I go? I want to see my sister.”
I can’t get enough of Clara. She’s changed so much in a year. Not just in the way she looks—taller, thinner, and older. She talks like the Dwellers now, all sharp-edged. She even moves like them, a little hesitant, a little poised. I need to draw that out of her.
“You’ll see her again soon. We all have to pull our weight around here, and don’t forget that it was the Dwellers who brought Clara back.”
“It was the Dwellers who took her.”
“Her abduction was more than just their doing.”
I can’t disagree with that.
Vale, Perry’s brother, was as responsible for Clara’s abduction as the Dwellers were. Even more so, since he was our Blood Lord. It was his responsibility to protect us, but what did he do? He sold my sister and he sold his own son, Talon.
For food.
Then he tried to frame Perry for it.
I’m not the only one of the Tides who still has a hard time accepting how crooked Vale was. It’s strange how you can know something—know the pointy, sharp truth—but still want to bend and blunt the edges so it fits better in your mind.
Molly gives me a wink and walks away, knowing she’s won our little debate.
When she’s gone, I kneel next to Soren. I found out from Molly earlier that he was helping Aria inside the Pod. I should dislike him for that, but he’s the healthiest one here, so he’s my favorite. Even though he soaked my sleeve.
“If I give you water again, will you keep it down this time?” I ask, seeing that his eyes are open. Barely, but they are.
“Can’t make any promises,” Soren rasps. He’s kidding around, which is another reason he’s my favorite. This place is hell. If you can joke in here, then you can make light of just about anything.
“Well, aim to the side this time, all right?”
He nods and parts his lips. I bring the water to them and pour it in slowly. He’s sallow and sweaty, but he wouldn’t be bad-looking if he weren’t a Dweller. He has a strong face, with a heavy brow and eyes that look like they don’t miss much, even in their glazed, sickly state.
All the Dwellers are fair, with no wrinkles or scars or blemishes. I guess those qualities were done away with in the Pods. I feel very lucky that I look as good as they do—or better, actually—just by plain good fortune.
I can tell Soren is taking small, careful sips so as to keep the water down. “What’s your name again?” he croaks when he’s finished.
“Not telling you again.” All I need is forty Dwellers moaning “Brooke” to me all day long.
Drinking has made Soren out of breath. He’s panting a little when he says, “Outside . . . what’s happening?”
“Aether. Lots of it.”
His eyes narrow like he’s trying to picture the sky outside, and a small worry line appears on his brow. “How are we going to—”
“There’s nothing you can do to help,” I assure him, “especially in your pathetic condition, so just go back to sleep.” I get up and move on to the next person.
Molly says I’m not making enough of an effort with these people, but I really don’t think she’s been paying attention.
My path through the cavern is methodical. And targeted. I work my way toward Aria, who I’ve avoided until now.
I didn’t want Molly watching me around her. I didn’t want to feel like she was policing me. Like she thought I might hurt Aria. Being suspected of that would streak me, even though the idea of doing her harm does hold some appeal.
It takes me ten minutes to reach Aria’s side. Glancing around to make sure no one is watching me, I kneel next to her, moving as quietly as I can. She is in a deep sleep or maybe unconscious, but she is an Aud. I don’t want to take any chances that I’ll wake her.
As I look her over, my heart starts thudding and my face warms with anger.
Her right arm is bandaged, but blood seeps through the wrap, staining the white gauze with bright red spots.
Her arm was shot, apparently.
It’s becoming infected, apparently.
I should feel bad for her, I suppose.
I don’t.
She looks good for someone who’s wounded. That actually is apparent. Her hair is as black as the darkness around me but still shines like a diamond. Her skin is as pale as the moon, and she breathes like an Aud.
Soundlessly. Elegantly. Gently.
I am blond and strong and loud and determined, and no one will ever call me elegant. No one will ever see me as gentle. She is everything I’m not.
And Perry chose her.
Over me.
I let out a slow, shaky breath. Leaning closer to her, I picture Perry kissing her. Coals heat in my stomach, warming with every second that passes. The heat becomes unbearable; I nearly expect to see a glow through my shirt.
I can’t stand it anymore and have to let it out. Words pour from my lips.
“You probably can’t hear me,” I whisper, “but I hate you. I hate that you took away who I love. He was mine and we were happy until you came along. Maybe you think you fixed that by bringing Clara back, but you didn’t. Perry should be mine. Not yours.”
I sit back on my heels. The coals are still sizzling inside me. That didn’t make me feel any better.
Footsteps close in behind me. My heart almost leaps out of my throat as I whirl and see a figure emerging from the shadows.
Perry.
I thank the skies he’s not an Aud or he’d have heard everything I just said. Then I remember that he is a Scire, and two thoughts spring into my head: he will know my hateful feelings toward Aria, and he will smell vomit on me.
Standing, I pull my sleeve behind my back and summon my happiest memory in hopes of softening the bitterness I’m certain is in my temper.
Clara’s giggle comes to mind. The burbli
ng sound my sister makes when she laughs—hopefully preserved despite her time with the Dwellers—is all I can come up with, but it’s enough to make me smile.
Perry stops in front of me, but his eyes hold on Aria for a beat. His hair is pulled back, with the shorter strands pinned behind his ear. “Hey, Brooke.”
“Hey, Per.” I’m relieved that I sound calm.
His weight settles to one hip as he looks around. “Doesn’t look like there’s been much improvement.”
My eyes stray to his narrow waist and then to the dusty leather pants that skim his long, muscular legs. He is nineteen now, and the only boy left in him is his ranginess. The leanness that makes him look even taller than he is.
I take in his crooked nose, his steep cheekbones. The bright green of his unrelenting eyes. He is weathered and softened like a seashell. Beautiful in the exact opposite way of the plain perfectness of the Dwellers.
He looks back at me, waiting for me to respond. I want to say that he improved this place the second he appeared. It’s the kind of thing I would have said once. But I just say, “Not really. If anything, they’re worse.”
“How is she doing?” he asks, tipping his chin.
The coals in my stomach crackle with heat. While I’ve been mooning over how beautiful he is, he’s been thinking about Aria.
I’m losing to a girl who’s unconscious.
“I don’t know.” An hour ago, Molly and Marron huddled by Aria as they discussed her injury, but I wasn’t listening. All I know is that the wound seems to be festering, but that’s true for many things around here.
Perry lets out a slow breath, and his focus settles on me squarely. He is no longer thinking about Aria. He is thinking about me. I know because a shadow falls over his eyes and he suddenly looks guilty. Maybe even a little worried.
“Take a walk with me, Brooke?”
I didn’t expect that. “I can’t right now,” I blurt. All I’ve wanted for months is time alone with him, but now I find myself trying to escape it. “Molly wanted me to—”
“I just saw her. She’s sending Marron and a few others over. She said you’re free to go.”
“Oh. All right.”
As we walk out, I’m glad he’s in front of me so I can try to gather myself. I know nothing is going to happen between us, but it doesn’t appear that my body is aware of this. My pulse races, and anticipation curls through me. It’s a familiar feeling. Six months ago we’d sneak into this cave, Roar and Liv trailing behind us, and I would land in Perry’s arms.
“Brooke,” he says, turning suddenly. We are somewhere in one of the jagged corridors that weave through the caverns inside the mountain. There’s a lantern far ahead, but the light is dim. I can only see the soft glint of the Blood Lord chain at Perry’s neck. “How are you doing?”
Sounds bounce around in all this rock, and though he is two paces away, it feels as though he whispered the question right into my ear. Gooseflesh prickles the skin on my arms.
“Clara’s back. Liv is dead. How do you think I am?”
It’s a rude comment, but I don’t know what else to say. He rejected me. Does he really expect me to confide in him? And I don’t know why he’s asking me that question, anyway. If anyone knows how I am, it’s Perry. His nephew, Talon, was missing just like Clara. And Liv was his sister. He lost her too.
There are no words to describe the emotions colliding inside me. My friend is gone; my sister is back. I am scalding and yet I’m chilled to the bone. I am angry. I am sadder than I’ve ever been in my life. My emotions rise and fall like the stoop and soar of a hawk.
I am scared. I am alone. I don’t know what I am, and I miss him, and he shouldn’t ask me that question, because he knows. He can scent it. He is living it. He is breathing my pain.
Perry lets out a slow breath. “Can I do anything?”
“You have enough to do.”
“I care about you, Brooke.”
“No, you don’t. I know who you care about.” I point to the Dweller cavern. “She’s in there.”
I don’t want to say any of this. There are times I wish I had a cork to stopper my mouth.
Perry takes a step closer, his voice growing softer and quieter. “Aria and I are together, and that’s not going to change. But I want us to change. I want us to move past this.”
“There is no us anymore, Peregrine. You made sure of that.”
I can’t look into his worried eyes for another second, so I stare at the links of his chain. I want to wrap my fingers around it and pull his mouth down to mine. I want to feel his lips. His tongue. His body.
It makes no sense. He broke my heart and I still want him so much. How is that possible?
Maybe I caught the Dwellers’ fever. Maybe I’m delirious.
We are quiet for a long, long stretch that’s probably only seconds. But I can’t leave and he can’t leave, and every time he speaks, I feel worse.
“Brooke . . . you’re one of the best people I know,” he says softly, breaking our silence.
The words fall like frost on my skin. “Am I, Perry? That’s great to know.” I step forward. He doesn’t back away. I have to tilt my head up to see into his eyes. We’re only inches apart. Not as close as I want us to be. “Well, you know what? You’re one of the best Blood Lords I know. How does it feel to be almost the best?”
Silence. A muscle flexes in his jaw, but he doesn’t speak.
“It’s a bit like not being good enough at all, isn’t it?” I say.
“You’re twisting my words. That’s not what I meant to—”
“It is, Perry. It is what you meant. Admit it. I’m not good enough for you.”
Before he can say another word, I spin and head into the darkness. I don’t even bother trying to walk. I run.
My feet strike the hard stone ground at a reckless pace, but I don’t hear a sound. Not my footfalls, or my own breathing. There is only a desperate plea, filling my thoughts.
Get out of my heart, Perry.
Please. Get out of my heart.
2
With the hours I spent helping Molly, I missed supper with my sister. That streaks me more than anything else has today.
My stomach rumbles loudly with hunger, like it’s demanding to be heard. I imagine it taunting me: You thought vomit and brokenheartedness was all? Foolish of you.
I want to find Clara, but first I make a quick detour to the cluttered cavern that serves as our kitchen, grateful to find a leftover piece of bread. It’s burnt and so hard it feels like a log, but it’s food. I pull the dagger from my belt and cut the center, then wedge a thick slice of goat cheese inside. I head for the main cavern, managing not to chip any teeth as I wolf down my meager meal.
When we found out we’d be moving from the Tide compound to this cave, Marron took it upon himself to make it as livable as possible. He had a wooden platform installed at the center of the main cavern—a raised dais, about a foot and a half tall and forty feet square. His idea was that people needed a smooth place to sit and eat.
It seemed like a lot of trouble to go to at the time, but he was right to have it built. It’s the area where the tribe gathers now. The platform always has at least a dozen people sitting on it and along its perimeter. It’s where we socialize and spend our free time—what little we have of it.
The platform is my first stop in my search to find Clara, and I’m smiling before I even get there. Just thinking about my sister makes me forget Perry’s you’re one of the best people comment.
“Brooke!” Gren calls out. He stands to the left of the platform. Gren is one of the Six. The three Seer brothers are with him as well. Twig isn’t here—he’s away with Roar—and Reef is absent too, probably off growling at someone about something. So at this very moment, the Six are actually the Four.
Despite being relatively young, the Six are harder-edged than the men born into my tribe. “Borderland tough,” my father says of them. Fighters to the core. They used to be a wandering pack that ha
d no allegiance to a Blood Lord. They’d still be in the borderlands if it weren’t for Perry, who won their loyalty and brought them into the Tides.
Perry is like that. Always gathering strays. I see evidence of it everywhere. In Marron and the Six. In the Dwellers. Even in a mutt like Flea. Perry never turns anyone away.
Only me.
“Hey.” I walk up to them, resting a hand on my hip. From the corner of my eye, I see bread crumbs on my chest, so I brush them off.
Hyde’s cheeks turn radish red as a blush creeps over them. Hayden and Straggler start elbowing each other. Gren’s smile widens, his eyes leaving my face and straying downward.
I roll my eyes. Gren and Hayden are in their twenties, unlike Hyde and Straggler, who are closer to my age of nineteen, but they all behave as though they are twelve. Collectively. “What do you need?” I ask Gren.
“You, Brooke,” he says immediately. “I need you.”
I shake my head. Here we go.
“I do too,” says Hayden. “I’m desperate for you.”
“Don’t listen to them, Brooke,” says Hyde. “I need you.”
“I need you the most,” says Straggler, the youngest brother.
“Keep out of this, boy-man. You don’t know anything about women.”
“That’s why I need her the most! Teach me, Brooke!”
I let them go on for a little while. I like the Six. I’ve known every male in the Tides since I was born, and I’m related to almost half of them, so it’s fun having new boys around. They joke constantly, but I’ve fought alongside them and I trust them. They might be a little crass, but they respect me. I’d beat them blue if they didn’t.
“Have you seen my sister?” I say, cutting them off.
Silence falls over them. Their smiles fade, and they look at one another like I’ve just given them a complicated problem to solve. Thankfully, Bear, who is sitting nearby, overhears.
“With your parents,” he calls over. “They’ve taken her to bed.”
“See you,” I say to the Six. I head to the tucked-away section of the main cavern where we have tents set up, hoping I’ll catch Clara before she falls asleep.
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