Edge of the Falls (After the Fall)

by Nazarea Andrews

  "They aren't natural, are they?"

  "No. They're a product of the labs. After the Cataclysm, they somehow went wild and spread. Not that," she adds, "it was necessarily a bad thing. I had Father’s journals, and they got me thinking. If starrbriar sap could extend life, in the right serum, could they reverse a disease? Because, essentially what we do during a Change is infect the DNA with a pathogen. The starrbriar should clear up the infection and their systems would revert to normal."

  I gasp. "That's why they can get pregnant."

  Her eyes narrow. "What are you talking about?"

  The question jolts me. I shake my head, aware that I am on unfamiliar ground. The pack does not trust the Mistress and, even in light of this new knowledge and uneasy understanding of her, I am cautious. She is still a tool of the Commission.

  I stand abruptly. I am not prepared for this, not without some guidance. "Can we talk again tomorrow?" I ask. The Mistress hesitates, but nods.

  I can see it in her gaze—she knows I’m hiding something. But the truth is I am too confused to care. Arjun—the entire pack—is waiting on me, depending on me. And I am hesitating, unsure if I can trust her.

  I want to bolt outside—sit under my tree and hope Arjun will come to me. But the children are waiting when I descend the staircase. Kaida's eyes are knowing, admonishing, and I flush.

  My personal crisis will wait. The children pull me into the familiar library, and I sit on the couch. Kaida drops unceremoniously next to me. "We've been patient, you know."

  The words are so typical of her, prodding without making demands, that I laugh. "You have been. Very patient."

  "What was it like, being with the wolves? Are they as fierce as they say?" Cedric asks, his eyes bright.

  A memory—the ban-wolves crowding around each other, during the acidstorm—slips through my mind, and I shudder. "More so."

  "Were you scared?" Lilith demands.

  I smile, sad. "Not at all. They are very kind--and misunderstood. Dangerous and wild, but heartbreakingly gentle, when they choose."

  Kaida's fingers touch my wrist, and she runs a thumb over my bracelet, thoughtfully. She looks up at me, confusion in her eyes.

  "You sound like you miss them." The voice comes from the doorway, and I look up, unsurprised to find Berg there, watching us.

  "I do," I answer.

  Disgust twists his face and I wonder—does he know what the Mistress is working on? Would he help her, considering how much he hates the ban-wolves?

  And if he learns that two lurk outside our door--would he try to kill them?

  This is the homecoming I missed. The children demand every detail of my time away, and I spend hours with them, recounting the food, the sulfur pool--Jade and her amusing frailty. They seem fascinated by Rook—especially Cedric.

  Mistress orders me to see Gwen and I finally have a moment to breathe—even if I am being poked and prodded as I do. Much as I adore the children, it is good to have a moment alone.

  "These stitches are amazing," Gwen mutters, examining my new scars. She looks up at me. "A ban-wolf did this?"

  I shift uncomfortably. "The ban-wolves healed me, but the original wounds came from a bear."

  She shakes her head. "That alone should have killed you--bears have poison on their claws, from the poison plants they eat." She makes a note in her tablet, and then sighs. "Well, aside from being a little underweight, you’re perfect, Sabah." She frowns, touching under my eyes. They ache--I cried for hours before I finally fell asleep last night. "Are you sleeping?"

  I shrug, give her a wan smile. "As much as can be expected."

  "Who was he?" she asks, and I look at her sharply.

  "It’s not that surprising, Sabah. You were distracted before you left. And you haven't been particularly warm toward Berg since you've been home."

  It’s true, but she is the first to call me on it. I sigh. "Arjun. One of the ban-wolves.”

  "What happened?" she asks, gently.

  Tears prick my eyes again—will I ever run out of tears? Will I ever stop grieving? How can something that hurts this much ever stop hurting? I shove down my grief, the choking enormity of it. "My life is here," I say simply.

  **

  The hours between midnight and first meal are the darkest. The dangers of Outside come crawling out of the woodwork—the tigercats with their keen night sight, the dragons who feast on fear as much as flesh. Even roving tribes who prey on solitary Exiles. Keepers retreat behind their Shield—this is our world at its most dangerous.

  I pause on the stairs, peering into the darkness of the Manor—even the library is dark. Berg is asleep, too. I release the breath I have been holding, and slip through the dark silence. My cloak is on a peg by the front door, with my tattered bag. A feeling of longing sweeps me, but it’s quickly damped by my rising excitement.

  The wind is biting, and it rips my hood back. After almost two days in the Manor and the stifling heat, the cold is shocking and wonderful. I race across the ice and snow, the wind stinging tears from my eyes.

  Two strong arms jerk me from my feet before I reach the outbuilding and the world seems to stop spinning, settling around me with a rightness that takes my breath away. Arjun’s golden eyes are anxious as he strokes down my back, up my arms, smoothing my hair—his hands seem to be everywhere, almost reassuring himself that I am well.

  I go up on my toes, pulling him toward me. His lips meet mine in a harsh kiss, and the aching loneliness in me recedes.

  I’m crying, and I don’t know how to stop. I lean into him, my head tucked into the curve of his shoulder. The smell that clings to him—woods and smoke and wildness—makes my heartbeat steady.

  “Shh, shush now, Sabah,” he murmurs. “I’m here.”

  A laugh bubbles up in my throat, hysterical. How long—how long is he here? I want to beg—the words are on the tip of my tongue. Until I look up, and see his golden eyes. They are strange—distant—and it makes the words dry up on my lips.

  I step away, ignoring the sharp stab of regret as I leave his warmth. “I talked to the Mistress,” I say. Merc seems to materialize from the night, slouching out of the darkness to stand at Arjun’s side.

  “And?”

  I bite my lip. “She’s working on a cure—and I think I can get it from her. But I need to offer something to her.”

  Arjun’s eyes narrow. “What are you thinking?”

  “Part of it doesn’t concern you,” I say briskly. “But I need the garden—if I offer that, she’ll give me whatever I ask for. And you aren’t going to be using it anymore.”

  They look at each other, silently conferring.

  “The pack is gone,” Merc says lazily.

  Arjun heaves a sigh and nods. “Fine. Give her the garden.”

  I nod. “I’ll have the serum tomorrow, then.”

  “Does it work?”

  “How is she supposed to know that?” I ask, exasperated. “There isn’t a ready supply of ban-wolves lining up to test it.”

  “I will,” Merc says around a yawn.

  My eyes go to Merc. Arjun isn’t arguing—they must have discussed this. I spare a single glare for Arjun, even as I shake my head. “Merc, it’s too dangerous. The serum hasn’t been tested.”

  “Which is why it should be, before we take it to the pack.”

  His complacent tone has vanished—his voice is hard, implacable. There is no reason to argue. It’s obvious they are together in this, and arguing will do nothing. So I nod at him. "If that's what you want."

  Merc grins at me, and I glance at the City—lights are beginning to brighten behind the Shield. Dawn is close. "Arjun, I don't know how long this will take," I tell him. "But if we're going to do this, it needs to be now. Berg can't know until I have Mistress' agreement."

  "I'll be waiting by the river-bend,” he says, and though he looks pale, he's steady. I wonder suddenly what he will do, if this kills Merc. Can he survive alone in the wilderness?

  I push those tho
ughts away and turn to Merc. "Let's go."

  **

  It is harder, slipping back into the house—maybe because of the nerves that make my hands shake. Leaving alone, with no one to question me, is easy. Bringing a ban-wolf into the home I share with innocent children, and Berg, is so much harder.

  "Follow me and be quiet," I murmur, just before opening the door. I catch Merc's grin, but ignore it as I slip into the house.

  There are quiet noises from the kitchen. I peek in--Cook is stirring porridge over the fire, but what makes my heart leap is the Mistress.

  She's sitting, wrapped in a long blanket, her hair cascading around her. Shadows smudge under her eyes as she stares into her mug. It is so startling to see her I jerk back, afraid. Does she know I'm missing? Merc touches my shoulder in question and I shake my head. Something thumps against the table, and I peer back in.

  "She's changed." Cook is sitting across from the Mistress, her eyes bright and demanding.

  "Yes," Mistress answers, her voice blank.

  "And she knows you’re a scientist?"

  An impatient sigh. "Yes, Lottie. She knows. She's furious and hurt and I'm not completely sure she won't run away again."

  Cook makes a rude noise in her throat. "She has that right, Kathleen. I told you years ago Sabah would find out eventually."

  "She's hiding something. And if she'd just trust me…" Mistress sighs.

  Cook's voice is uncharacteristically kind when she says, "You haven't given her reason to trust you, Kat. You said it yourself—she's hurt. Give the girl time."

  "What if she leaves again? It almost killed Berg."

  The whispered question hurts me. I have been so absorbed in my own emotional turmoil, I have not spared any thought to how it's affected Berg. Have not even considered that he might be happy I am home. If I am honest, maybe we fought so I wouldn’t see his happiness. I am not sure I can face it.

  "She won't," Cook says.

  "How can you be sure?"

  There's a pause, and then a rustle of fabric and the creak of a chair. "Something happened to her, out there. She found something—love, I think. You can see it in her eyes, when she gets quiet. The loss and pain that she's trying to hide. She can't survive losing that more than once. If she's walking away from it now, she won't do it again."

  I'm conscious of Merc, at my back, listening. I can feel his eyes on me, knowing and prodding, and I flush. Enough eavesdropping.

  I step into the kitchen, motioning Merc to remain in the shadows. The Mistress looks at me, stunned, but Cook doesn’t bat an eye. "Hungry, girlie?" she asks, standing up.

  I shake my head and she makes a noise in her throat, a soft growl, ignoring me as she makes a bowl of porridge. "Mistress, you said you were working on a cure," I say, sitting across from her.

  She nods.

  "I want it," I say. Her eyes dart to me and she begins to say something before I cut her off. "I can offer you a garden—twice the size of the greenhouse, full of starrbriars—that doesn't require risking one of the children. I'll take you to it, and I'll go to the City with Berg and be his Insurance. But in exchange, I want the cure."

  I see the hunger in her eyes that she tries desperately to hide. I can feel the anger rolling off Merc that I ignore. My offer is there, and now I wait.

  She licks her lips. "It's not tested. It could just as easily kill them."

  "What if you could test it? Would you give it to me, if you could test it first?" I ask, looking her in the eye

  She lowers the cup she had half raised to her mouth, and says slowly, "You have a ban-wolf that will let me experiment on them?"

  Without breaking eye contact, I call, “Merc.”

  Merc slips into the kitchen, silent except for the slight rasp of his claws on the battered wooden floor.

  Mistress gasps, a strangled sound. Cook pauses in making my breakfast, and Merc smiles at them both, lazy and insolent. I have to hide my smile—does nothing ever faze him?

  Cook sighs, eyeing him, "I suppose you'll be wanting breakfast too, then."

  **

  I find Berg after Cook feeds Merc. I’m a little surprised that the household is still sleeping—but I am thankful for small blessings. Much as I dislike secrets, now is not the best time for all of them to come to light.

  “The Mistress needs to see us,” I say, shaking Berg awake. He blinks at me, sleepy and sweet and for just a heartbeat, all of my anger is gone. I lean down, before I can think better of it, and kiss him. It is brief—a soft brush of lips so light it's over almost before it began. He blinks at me, a half smile on his lips. "What was that for?"

  I shrug, hook a lock of hair behind my ear. "I missed you," I tell him truthfully.

  His smile widens, and he pulls me down, kissing me this time, a deep, serious kiss.

  It's odd—something is off about it. For a moment, I think it is because I feel like I am betraying Arjun. I can't help compare the two of them, and that's when I realize what the strangeness is.

  Kissing Berg is flat, smooth—all even edges and soft lips. There are no sharp teeth nibbling softly at my bottom lip, no slight protrusion to give the kiss texture and dimension.

  I pull away, forcing the thoughts back.

  While he stands up and stretches, I allow myself to wonder: when did I begin to see the differences in ban-wolves as normal? When did I stop seeing them at all?

  Berg starts toward the kitchen for coffee, but I snag his hand and pull him upstairs. "She's waiting," I say impatiently.

  The Mistress is in her study, bent over a thick journal, scribbling. It's one of the few times I've ever seen her write on paper—she usually keeps notes and lists on her tablet. She looks up as we enter, somewhat distracted. A lock of hair falls in her eyes and Berg makes a noise, stepping forward. "Kathleen?"

  He stops abruptly, looking at me awkwardly, and I wave an impatient hand. "Kathleen Lawson, I know. And yes, she's out of sorts. Can we focus, please?" I turn to her. "Where is he?"

  "My lab,” she answers. "But, Sabah, you can't be present."

  I laugh at that, ignoring the confused look on Berg's face. "No. There is no way I'm allowing you to work on him without me present."

  "You can trust me," she snaps, her voice hurt.

  I stifle a sigh and run a hand through my hair. "I do—but he's trusting me. And I'm not letting him go through this alone."

  "Who?" Berg demands, looking between us.

  The Mistress bites her lip. "The serum—the new one I've had you testing on the rats?"

  He nods, and I almost laugh at the irony—Berg, who hates ban-wolves, is the maker of their salvation. "We're going to do trials on it," Mistress says, bending back to her notes.

  He frowns. "On what? We don’t even know what it does."

  "It's to reverse the DNA mapping in a ban-wolf," she murmurs.

  His eyes go from me to her and then he laughs, anger and hysteria filling the laugh to make it a parody of amusement. If I were thinking clearly, that laugh would worry me. "We don't have a ban-wolf to test it on,” he says.

  "Actually," I insert, "we do."

  **

  I leave Berg in the study with the Mistress, and make my way to the lab. Merc is sitting on a steel table, and he smiles at me, looking sick.

  "This is going to work," I say, trying to sound confident.

  He shrugs, doing an admirable job of portraying his customary nonchalance. "We'll see soon enough."

  I perch next to him, quiet. My reassurances will do nothing but clutter the air, now.

  "Who is she arguing with?" he asks, curious.

  "Berg," I say shortly

  His gaze slides to me. "Is that the boy?" I blush but nod. Merc studies me for a long moment and I wonder if he can smell Berg on my lips.

  "Are you really going to live in the City?" he asks.

  "The serum comes with a price," I say, flippantly.

  "Not this one," he says, and for once he is the serious one. "Arjun would never allow it. Even Rook
would agree it's too steep a price."

  I sigh. "Leave it alone, Merc. I'm not going to be with Arjun. Life in the City is my next best option."

  "Stupid girl."

  I glare at him, but it is hard to be angry with someone who speaks with such exasperated affection. He takes my hand, squeezing it lightly.

  "Don't tell him," I say, into the sudden silence. Mistress and Berg's arguing have died down. They'll be here soon. I can see the conflict in his eyes. My voice is a whisper, as I beg, “Please don’t tell Arjun.”

  He nods, clenches my hand in his. "Don't leave me?"

  It is the first hint of fear, and I lean my head against his shoulder, closing my eyes. I do not know how this will go—and I do not want to see a friend die. Mistress had been clear, in the kitchen, how dangerous this would be. Both of us know he could just as easily die as be cured—or the serum could fail and he could remain a ban-wolf. I want to run from the room, run from the Manor, wait in the darkness with Arjun.

  But I will not abandon Merc.

  Mistress and Berg walk in--she, trembling with excitement, he, glaring. Glass clinks together and I lick my lips, nerves swamping me. "What are you going to do?" I ask.

  "It's simple, really," Mistress says. She's rifling through a drawer, and pulls a large syringe out. The needle is hidden by plastic, but I can see it, gleaming dully in the electri light—her lab and the greenhouse are the only places in the manor we use electri lights. "We're going to inject the serum in his bloodstream. It should initiate a reversal as it works through his system. If his body rejects it--" she pauses, glances at Merc.

  "If his system rejects it," Berg says coldly, "he could bleed out or go crazy. Maybe both. He'll need to be restrained."

  "Scared, little boy?" Merc says, his lazy smile returning.

  "Hardly," Berg snaps, furious.

  Merc's head cocks as he studies Berg, and then his eyes come to me. "You do know you can do better, don't you, Sabah?"

  I squeeze his hand, glaring, "Enough, Merc. Just let them put you in the restraints."

  It takes a ridiculously short amount of time for them to finish preparations. The Mistress is waiting impatiently before Berg has finished securing Merc. The syringe of thick gray serum sits on a steel tray, waiting.