The Deadly Nightshade

by Justine Ashford

  The townspeople look around at each other, then back at their leader, whose piercing eyes dare them to question her again, and begin to shuffle toward the assembly hall with their heads hung low. I keep my swords drawn and my back pressed to Connor’s, watching as they part for us like water in a stream trickling around a boulder. Nate, Sheppard, Sophia, and Claire form a protective circle around us, and the lieutenant nods to indicate that I can sheathe my weapons, which I hesitate to do, but he insists. Knowing it will only frighten the Sweetbriarans more to see me with my swords drawn and ready to execute, I place them back in their sheaths and allow our four bodyguards to escort us to the meeting.

  We enter the assembly hall behind the rest of the townspeople, who have already begun to start another uproar. Reina stands at the lectern, glaring over the entire audience, and when she sees us a look of mild relief washes over her face. It is the only expression of welcoming we receive as we walk up to the front, greeted by cold, hateful stares. I guess I can’t blame them. If it weren’t for Connor and me, their beloved home wouldn’t be under siege and they would still be living in ignorant bliss, unaware of what monsters the world outside these walls possesses.

  Our party joins Reina on the elevated platform overlooking the crowd. At least up here we are slightly safer from being attacked by our own neighbors, our own friends. And with my hunting group ready to defend us, I feel confident no one will try to do us any harm. I take a look at Connor, who is trembling at the knees, and give him a small reassuring nudge. He manages an uneasy smile, but as he turns back to face the angry Sweetbriarans his face becomes a sickly shade of white.

  Reina slams her fist against the lectern, striking it once, twice, three times. It takes a minute or two for the room to quiet down, but eventually the townspeople fall respectfully mute. This is probably the first time in all of Sweetbriar history that she has ever had to strain herself to get their attention.

  “Alright, let’s get one thing straight here,” she growls, her voice losing its usual embellishment and her accent revealing itself to be thicker than I could have ever imagined. “I’m in charge, which means you all follow my orders no matter how much you disagree with them, and you quiet down when I tell you to. Is this unclear to anyone, hm?” She stares around the room, daring someone to speak, but no one does. “Alright, now that that’s settled we need to discuss what we’re going to do about the present threat.” Once again, a commotion breaks out, and Reina has to raise her voice to be heard. “Now I understand you’re all afraid for your safety. We’ve never experienced anything like this before—not since we founded Sweetbriar—but I assure you we will find a way to remove these people without any harm coming to a single member of this town.”

  “Yeah, I have an idea how we can do that!” cries one woman. “We do what that man said and give Nightshade and Connor up. They’re the ones he wants, not us. Why should we risk our lives for them? They’re outsiders!”

  The others shout their agreement. As the crowd begins to get riled up again, people pump their fists and yell at Reina, demanding we be handed over to Roman immediately. Spit flies from their mouths and their faces redden with their passionate cries. I look at Reina, who stares with incredulity at her townspeople, her mouth ajar and her eyes wide with fear. Her control is slipping right through her hands, and soon this democratic assembly will become an all out upheaval if something isn’t done to placate the Sweetbriarans.

  “They’re killers! Who cares what happens to them?”

  “They don’t belong here!”

  “It’s our lives or theirs, and I’m not going to die for two outsiders!”

  I turn to Reina, expecting her to scream at them again, to reestablish her authority, but she just looks on in vain, her knees trembling behind the lectern. I have the urge to draw my swords, but as soon as I begin to move my hand, Connor grabs it with both of his. Beads of sweat have begun to form on his face, which has changed from the sickly shade of white to an even more sickly shade of green. He looks at me, his blue eyes craving reassurance, but I have absolutely none to give him.

  Nate, realizing Reina’s hold is slipping, jumps to our rescue. “Hey, come on, now! Nightshade and Connor are family. They’re as much a part of this community as the rest of us. An hour ago they were your friends, and now you’re just going to give them to a man who will do God knows what with them? We’re not animals—that’s why we left the outside world, to separate us from the savages. We are civilized people, and we don’t take orders from gangs. If we give in, if we turn on each other, if we stoop to their level, then we’re no better than them.”

  “Nate’s right,” says Sheppard. “These two are Sweetbriarans just as much as anyone else in this room—how can we condemn them to whatever fate this man has in mind? Besides, he’s made a direct threat against all of us, not just them. We need to start thinking of an alternative solution to this mess. I know you’re all scared and none of you like the idea of a fight, but sometimes violence is the only answer to violence.”

  “You’re preaching violence now, Sheppard?” hisses one man. “If Sweetbriar goes to war with these guys, people are going to die on both sides, no matter who wins. People—our people—are going to die, and for what? For two outsiders who lived in our camp and ate our food for a few months?”

  The others applaud and voice their agreement, everybody talking over each other in a furious buzz. I want to speak, to defend myself, to explain the actual circumstances that led to Roman’s brother’s death, to warn them that this man cannot be trusted. But I know opening my mouth will only make them angrier, and there’s no telling what will happen if I fan the flames of this fire any more.

  Nate opens his mouth to speak again, but Reina gestures for him to stop. Finally she seems to have found herself again. She glowers at the mob beneath her until they fall silent, then turns to look at Connor and me. Her brown eyes are cold, hard, emotionless. They remind me of my own.

  “You all know I would do anything and everything to protect Sweetbriar, and to protect the lives of the people who live here,” she says, her voice weighed down with resignation. “Which is why I must agree with you.”

  A shocked murmur breaks out. My heart sinks. Connor’s hand squeezes mine. This can’t be real. This can’t be happening.

  “Fighting with these people would only result in casualties, and I am not prepared to put lives at risk if there is an alternative. Nightshade and Connor, however much we have become acquainted with them over the past weeks, are outsiders. We do not know for sure what they have done to anger this gang, but it is their battle to fight, not ours, which is why I am ordering them to be taken and held in my house under surveillance until dawn.”

  The Sweetbriarans break out into whoops and cheers. I stare at Reina in disbelief. She can’t do this. She can’t sentence us to death.

  “No, this is bullshit!” I yell, advancing toward her. Nate quickly grabs me by the waist to restrain me, but I kick and squirm against him. “You’re gonna give us up and let us die after all that crap you said about how you couldn’t let us leave with a clear conscience because you would feel ‘personally responsible’ if we got killed?”

  “Once we hand you over to them, you are their responsibility, not mine. I do not know for sure what will happen to you, and therefore I can continue on with my life guilt-free,” she says icily.

  “Continue on with your life?” I scoff. “You really think Roman is going to just let you all live? You think he didn’t take one look at this place and decide to stake his own claim? You think he’ll just leave peacefully and never come back? I have news for you, all of you—Roman and his people have been looking for a new camp for months now, and if you think he didn’t take one look at these walls and that gate and decide he was going to take this place, you’re completely deluded. That man is the reason why Connor and I came to Sweetbriar in the first place—it was him and his people who crippled Connor’s leg. And yes, I did kill his brother, but it was in my own sel
f-defense. If you turn us over to him, he will butcher us.”

  Upon hearing my words, the crowd begins their frenzy again. Panic creeps into Reina’s brown eyes, and she bangs on the wooden lectern again to calm them. Turning to Nate, she orders him and the others in my hunting group to restrain us.

  Nate turns to me, then back to Reina, his despair evident in his pained expression. She has forced him to make a choice: the life of the girl he supposedly loves or his loyalty to his beloved leader and town. After a moment, he looks back to Reina and shakes his head firmly.

  “No,” he says.

  “What did you say?” she hisses, that menacing look returning to her face.

  “I said I refuse. It’s not right, Reina, and you know it.”

  The leader’s eyes narrow to slits. “Are you really going to disobey me, Nate? For two outsiders, nonetheless?”

  “They aren’t outsiders, but yes, I am.”

  She laughs once, but there is no amusement in it. Without warning, she advances toward Nate and grabs him by the throat with both hands. Although his own hands fly to her wrists, he makes no effort to remove them or defend himself. The entire town watches in horror as their ruler mercilessly throttles her most trusted friend before their eyes. I reach to draw my katanas, but Sophia draws her bow and points it straight at my chest.

  “Don’t, Nightshade. This is their fight,” she whispers.

  Nate begins to wheeze desperately as Reina crushes his windpipe. The veins on the leader’s brown hands bulge and her long nails dig into his skin as her grip tightens around his neck, but the lieutenant still refuses to fight back—he could never raise a hand to her, not even when faced with the threat of death. She pulls him close to her and raises her mouth to his ear, whispering something I can’t hear over the guttural noises emanating from his throat. Finally, she releases him and he crashes to the floor, gasping for air.

  After a moment, Reina crouches down beside him and whispers, “Where does your loyalty lie now, Nate?”

  The lieutenant looks up at her, the fear in his eyes visible. After another minute of wheezing, he croaks, “With you.”

  She takes his arm and helps him up, then the two of them turn to Connor and me. I stare at Nate, shaking my head, silently pleading with him, but his eyes drop to the floor.

  “I’m sorry,” he mouths.

  In the corner of my eye, I notice Sheppard leap down from the platform with a look of bitter indignation, refusing to be a part of our capture but knowing there is nothing he can do to stop it from occurring. Reina watches him go but does nothing to stop him. The preacher is greeted with a barrage of insults from the audience as he makes his way to the door. Just as he is about to exit, he turns, locks eyes with me, makes the sign of the cross in the air, and leaves.

  As Nate begins to advance toward us, I go into survival mode, looking for some way out of this. But Sophia still stands with her bow pointed at me, ready to fire upon my resistance. If it was Sheppard or Nate holding that bow, or maybe even Claire, I wouldn’t hesitate to call the bluff, but not Sophia. No, this woman has a young nephew she needs to protect, and I’m sure she is thinking of him and only him right now. Besides, say I did fight back, say I did attack the people who an hour ago were my friends, say I managed to get Connor and I out of here—where would we go? If we ran to the gate Roman’s group would be there waiting for us, and if we tried to climb over the wall surely someone would stop us before we could get halfway over. We are completely, utterly screwed.

  Still, every cell in my body urges me to fight my way out, to stay alive. My muscles tense and I fall into a defensive stance, my knees bent and my hands balled into fists, ready to strike anyone who comes near me and grab my katanas at any second. But Connor places a hand on my arm, a look of resignation on his face.

  “Don’t fight, Nightshade,” he whispers. “You won’t win.” He turns away from me and locks eyes with Sophia, placing his hands in the air in surrender.

  Realizing he is right, I reluctantly allow Nate to restrain me while Claire and Sophia do the same to him. The lieutenant removes all of my weapons and hands them over to Reina. The girls take Connor’s knife and place it on the lectern. They pat us down again to be sure they haven’t missed anything, then Nate draws his hunting knife and presses it to my throat. He grips me tightly by the back of my neck and commands me to walk. As they escort us off the platform and down onto the main level, the Sweetbriarans break out into applause, slinging curses at us as we go by. I try to turn my head to look at Connor, but Nate snaps it forward again, his hold tightening with every slight movement I make.

  As they lead us out of the assembly hall, I begin to think of a plan of action. There are still hours before daybreak, which means Connor and I have plenty of time to figure out a way out of here. If there is one thing I know for sure, it’s that I am not going to die here, not by Roman’s hands. No, I am a survivor, and if there is one thing I know how to do, it is survive.

  Chapter 45

  Another man and woman join our party—evidence of Reina’s distrust toward my hunting group—and Connor and I are brought to the leader’s mansion. They usher us down a flight of stairs and through an obscure hallway to a large metal door, then order us inside. I attempt to plead with Nate one last time, but he shoves me into the dimly lit room and, after Connor is inside, slams the door behind us. The lock clicks as it falls into place, but I try to open the door regardless, twisting and turning the knob to no avail. Frustrated, I pound on the door with both fists ten, twenty, thirty times until an unfamiliar man’s voice tells me to quit it. Reina has stationed guards just like she promised, and ones she knows will remain loyal to her. Ignoring him, I continue banging.

  “Nightshade, stop,” says Connor. “You’re wasting your energy.”

  Realizing he is right, I let out a long sigh and slide down the wall into a sitting position. Connor does the same. We sit next to each other, both of us surveying the stuffy, dark, empty room. The walls and floors are made of concrete—impossible for us to break through—and there are no windows to shatter or climb out of. From what I can see, there are no vents or ducts we could climb through, either, and considering the door is made of steel and only seems to lock from the outside that isn’t an option either. Only one small lightbulb hangs from the ceiling, shedding just enough light for me to see Connor’s face, and even in the near-darkness I can tell he is as disconcerted as I am. As we sit in our cell, I wonder if anyone else has been a prisoner to these walls and, if so, what became of them.

  “What do we do now?” he murmurs.

  “We have to come up with something,” I say. “Any ideas?”

  He shakes his head. We sit there for an hour or so, ruminating on some way out of this mess, but my hope begins to grow thinner with each passing minute. Every plan I begin to formulate ends with a disastrous problem, and it seems as if there isn’t a single definite way to get us out of Sweetbriar without either of us getting killed in the meantime. Still, we bounce ideas off each other. Connor suggests I try to play on Nate’s alleged love for me, but I fear that card has already been removed from the deck. We consider fighting, trickery, bargaining, pleading, but there are so many factors to consider and so many risks.

  As I am explaining the strategy we should use if we do decide to fight back against our jailers, Connor interrupts me. With wet eyes, he says, “I’m so sorry, Nightshade. If I hadn’t wanted to stay—if I hadn’t been so selfish—we would’ve left days ago and Roman never would’ve found this place. I knew you were right when you said they were coming, but I didn’t want to believe it . . . Just the thought of leaving Sweetbriar, of leaving her . . . I wish I had listened to you, but I fucked up. I fucked up so bad, Nightshade.”

  He places his head in his hands, his dark mop of hair falling over his eyes, and lets out a shaky sigh. I watch as his body begins to shudder and soon realize he is crying. For a second, I reflect upon the slight pang of guilt I felt when I couldn’t reciprocate Nate’s feeling
s toward me. The weight of that emotion had sat like a pit in my stomach, practically consuming my every thought, my every action. That guilt was nothing compared to what Connor must be feeling now. As he sobs, the urge to comfort him is overwhelming.

  Knowing there is a very good chance I will die tomorrow, I whisper one word: “Violet.”

  “What?” he sniffles, wiping the tears from his face and peering up at me with a look of confusion.

  “You asked me what my real name was back when we first met. It’s Violet.”

  “Violet,” he repeats, grinning as he contemplates the sound of it. After a moment, he turns to me with a playful look in his eyes and says, “You know, I think I like Nightshade better.”

  I laugh. “Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”

  Connor laughs too, and I pull him in for a hug. We sit like that for a moment, our arms wrapped around each other, enjoying what may be our first and last real embrace. For the first time I realize my life began—really began—with Connor. Meeting each other was the first time in both of our short lives that we were able to live without fear—for him the fear of being alone, and for me the fear of being afraid. And now it is likely our lives will end together too.

  I am staring at him, trying to think of something to say, some way to thank him for everything he has done for me, when I hear the click that indicates the lock on the steel door is being lifted. Connor and I whip our heads in the direction of the noise just as two men enter the room. At first I am unable to make out their faces in the dim light, so I jump up, ready to fight, but after a moment I recognize Nate and Sheppard’s familiar features. Bundled in the preacher’s arms are my katanas, my knife belt, Angelica’s knife, and the black machete. I stare at the two of them, unsure of what to make of this.