The Deadly Nightshade

by Justine Ashford

  “Where’s Reina?” I ask. “Is she alright?”

  “She’s hurt pretty bad. We brought her back to her house to have Dr. Lam take a look at her.” Then, after a slight hesitation, she adds in a grim tone, “She asked for you, Nightshade.”

  I exchange a glance with Connor. “You go ahead. I’ll stay here and help with the injured,” he says.

  I nod. He and Claire head toward the other survivors. I watch them go, surveying the horrific scene before me. Dozens of dead litter the ground, some familiar and some not. A few people still twitch and moan, and if they are Sweetbriarans one of the survivors pulls them out to tend to their wounds, but if they are not they are quickly dispatched. Among the bodies I catch sight of a young black man lying lifeless in a pool of blood. Before I know what I am doing my feet have carried me toward him and I am kneeling at his side. Poor Nate. Poor, sweet Nate who loved me and was filled with such unconditional loyalty to his leader that he died to save her life. I press my fingers gently against his lips, wondering if they ever would have known the taste of mine if circumstances had been different. As a tear rolls down my cheek for the first time in years, I bend and kiss his lukewarm forehead, get up, and walk away.

  I slowly make my way to Reina’s mansion, feeling every wound Roman inflicted upon me with each step I take. When I finally reach the house, I catch sight of Sophia, who has just laid the woman she was carrying down beside a handful of other wounded people for Dr. Lam to assist. She directs me to go upstairs to Reina’s room, where the doctor is tending to her. I do as I am told and, with a great deal of effort, haul myself all the way up the marble staircase and down the hallway until I reach Reina’s bedroom. When I enter, Dr. Lam is sitting in a chair beside the leader, who lies in bed with several blankets over her body so that only her face can be seen. Upon catching sight of me, she dismisses the doctor and tells her to take care of those downstairs. Dr. Lam exits and closes the door behind her, leaving the two of us alone.

  “I’m glad to see you alive, Nightshade. You, well, you look like hell,” Reina says in the heavily accented, unembellished voice I am not yet used to hearing. “I barely recognized you. You should really get yourself looked at.”

  “You don’t look so hot yourself,” I say. “How are you feeling?”

  She laughs ruefully. “Like I just lost everything I ever had. But, hey, at least we won . . . It cost dozens of lives, but we won . . .”

  “Do you regret it?” I ask. “Fighting back instead of giving us up?”

  She shakes her head. “Sweetheart, I would fight a hundred gangs with my own two hands before I gave any of my people to that man.” Then, after a moment’s hesitation, she asks, “Where’s Nate? Is—? Is he—?”

  “Dead,” I affirm. “Sheppard too. I don’t know how many more.”

  At this news, she closes her eyes and lays her head back upon the pillow, sighing. A tear hangs on the tip of her black lashes, but she wipes it away before it can fall. I want to tell her I know the feeling, I know what it’s like to have someone die for me, I know that guilt and pain and sorrow. But all I can do is stare at her wordlessly, wishing I could find a way to console her. But I’ve never been very good with words.

  When Reina regains her composure, she opens her eyes and gestures for me to take her hand. I do so, feeling the chipped, jagged edges of her broken nails as they scrape against my palm. She looks so different lying in that bed, so disheveled—her curly black hair is messy and matted with blood, her makeup is smudged and all but gone, and her brown skin is pale and shows no sign of the warm, youthful glow it previously held. Seeing her like this is almost like seeing her naked—she is so vulnerable, so exposed. I don’t even want to look. I break eye contact with her, staring at the fleece blankets and feeling them absentmindedly with my free hand, but Reina tightens her grip to draw my attention.

  “I need you to make me a promise, Nightshade,” she whispers. “I’m not going to be here much longer, and I need you to promise me something.”

  “What are you talking about? Dr. Lam was just—”

  “There’s nothing she can do for me now,” she says, throwing the blankets aside to reveal a massive abdominal wound that is bleeding onto the white bed sheets underneath her. “It was a shotgun. I told Dr. Lam not to bother with me, to focus her resources on the others who still have a chance. Besides, I’m their leader. I’m the one who led them into the fight. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  “You’re an idiot if you think that’s true,” I say, suddenly feeling angry with her. How could she be that stupid? There has to be something Dr. Lam can do for her. Surely this can’t be it. “You’re their leader. You’re supposed to lead them. Who else is going to do it if you’re gone?”

  “You,” she whispers.

  “Me?”

  “Yes, Nightshade. You. I need you to lead Sweetbriar when I’m gone. It’s always been you, ever since I met you I hoped it would be. You remind me of myself—you’re authoritative, you’ve got vigor and courage, and you’re not afraid to make decisions. You’re smart and logical—you think out every option before you act and you choose the safest one. You know how to keep yourself alive, and I have no doubt you’ll be able to use that knowledge to help these people survive. Nate, he was a good man, a loyal man, an intelligent man, but he was never meant to be in charge. But you, you’ve got all the makings of a great leader. That’s why I couldn’t let you leave—I knew I needed you, and I knew you needed this place.”

  I shake my head, unable to believe the request she is making of me. “Reina, I caused all of this. All of those people out there, they’re dead because of me. All of the death, all of the destruction . . . This is all my fault.”

  Consumed with the emotional realization that I am to blame for everything that has happened today, I begin to cry. No, not cry—sob. I sob so violently that my body quakes as hot tears streak my face and sting my wounds. Reina squeezes my hand tighter to calm me, and I am grateful for the comforting warmth of her skin against mine.

  “None of this is your fault, Nightshade. Things happen. People die. That is life. We were fortunate enough to live in peace for so long, but we were bound to be discovered eventually. Listen to me, these people are frightened and they need someone to reassure them. You need to be that person. You need to guide them, protect them, keep them safe and happy. Please, Nightshade. Promise me.”

  I stare into her pleading brown eyes and realize I cannot deny her. After all, if I don’t lead them, who will? I can’t just walk away from Sweetbriar and leave these people to fend for themselves, not with a clear conscience, not after what I have done. They must be my responsibility now. I owe her that much. “I promise,” I say.

  She smiles at me, a wave of relief passing over her worn face, and lays her head back against the pillow. Her hand still clutches mine tightly as she closes her eyes to rest. I watch her chest rise and fall for a few hours as she sleeps, until her breathing grows shallower and shallower and then stops completely. When she has passed, I press my lips against her hand and lay it on the bed beside her.

  I tread slowly back down the hallway, down the marble staircase and into the main room where I find Dr. Lam still tending to the wounded. Connor is there assisting her, and when he sees me coming down the stairs he hurries over to meet me. I am not sure whether the zombie-like look I wear on my face or the remnants of tears on my cheeks give it away, but, in a voice low enough so that none of the others can hear, he whispers, “She’s gone, isn’t she?”

  I nod.

  With a long sigh, Connor bows his head. “Eleven of ours dead—well, twelve now. Five people are pretty badly hurt, but Dr. Lam says none of the injuries appear life-threatening.”

  “I promised her I would take her place,” I tell him. “I promised I would be their leader.”

  He stares at me for a moment, as if unable to believe what I am saying. “And you’re— you’re going to do it?” he asks.

  “Yes, I made her a promise and I’m going to d
o it. And if I’m going to lead these people, I’m going to need a right-hand man, just like she had. Connor, there isn’t anyone on this earth I would rather have by my side than you.”

  He smiles, and seeing that smile is like knowing everything is right with the world. “I would be honored.”

  “Then there’s just one thing left to do,” I say.

  Chapter 50

  With all the strength my broken body can muster, I climb one of the sentry ladders to the top of the roof of the house I was held up in just hours ago with Connor right behind me, then turn and stand to face the crowd of people who have gathered below. All of Sweetbriar gazes up at us, all of them confused and frightened and anxious. I look out across the town—at the iron gate ruined beyond repair, at the shot up houses, at the blood-soaked cobblestone, at the heap of enemy bodies that have been piled up just outside the entrance, and at the numerous Sweetbriaran bodies that have been covered with blankets. The beautiful community they knew yesterday has been destroyed, and many of their friends and family have been destroyed with it. Never have I seen a more lost, terrified, mournful group of people.

  “Where’s Reina?” they cry, looking around for their beloved leader. They break into a loud chatter as they speculate about her whereabouts, asking each other if anybody saw her, if she is hurt, if something bad happened.

  “Reina is dead!” I call out. A wave of shock stuns them into silence as my words hang in the air, echoing off the stone walls. “She died just moments ago.”

  People begin to wail, to drop to their knees, to cry and panic at the news. For them, these words spell their doom. Reina was the one who led them to safety, and if she is dead then their demise must surely be imminent as well. They have lived so long within their walled haven, within this small-scale replica of civilization, that they can’t survive without someone to take care of them and tell them what to do. And who will do that if Reina is no longer alive?

  “Listen to me!” I shout to get their attention. Reina made it look so easy—one scathing glare or clearing of her throat and all eyes were on her. “I know you are scared and I know you are grieving—I am too. We lost a lot of good people today, people we loved, people we cherished, including Reina. But I am here to tell you that you are not without a leader. I was with her when she died, and before she passed she asked me to take her place. Now I know this may come as a surprise to some of—”

  Before I know it I have started an uprising. People shout and shake their heads and wave their fists, demanding proof, calling me a liar. I try to wait for them to calm down, but they just continue to shout accusations at me until Connor is forced to yell over them.

  “She’s not lying!” he insists. “Why would she make this up?”

  “She’s telling the truth!” calls a small voice from the crowd. Everyone quiets down and turns to look at Dr. Lam, who shrinks under the heat of their gazes. “I was with Reina too before she died and she told me the same thing. Nightshade isn’t lying.”

  Upon hearing these words, the Sweetbriarans turn back to me with a new light in their eyes—the light of respect. Although this new look doesn’t quite match the level of intensity of the one they used to give to Reina, I am beyond relieved to see them finally on my side. Even in death Reina’s word can unify them. With her endorsement, they have accepted me as their leader.

  “But what will we do now?”

  “The town is destroyed, the gate is ruined—anyone can get in!”

  “The gunfire is bound to draw more people. They’ll find us!”

  As they shout their fears at me, I realize I must reassure them that they are safe from any and all danger and that they have no reason to worry, like Reina would do if she were here. But I am not Reina, and I have no idea how to quench the fire that is these people’s fear. Suddenly I have gone from the girl who only ever had to take care of herself to the leader of an entire town, and I am terrified.

  But there is a reason why Reina picked me for this job above anyone else. She said I reminded her of herself, that I had many of her best qualities, that I thought just like her and made the same decisions she would make. I may not be Reina, but I am Nightshade, and I am all they’ve got to look to for guidance. I made a promise to their leader that I would make them feel protected and safe, and I cannot betray her. Taking a deep breath, I turn to Connor, who gives me an encouraging nod.

  I take a step forward so that I stand on the edge of the roof and raise my voice with all the authority and confidence I can muster. “ ‘I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss,’ ” I begin, quoting Sydney Carton’s final thoughts in A Tale of Two Cities. “I see every man, woman, and child in Sweetbriar happy, healthy, and safe for many years to come. I see those who died for us today looking down upon us from the afterlife with pride in their hearts at seeing how we have moved on and rebuilt our beloved town. And as much as it hurts, as dark as this day is for us, as much suffering as we will go through before the pain subsides, I assure you we will move on and we will rebuild. We will not let the deaths of those whose lives were lost today be in vain. They died so we could survive and live as peacefully as possible—that was their gift to us, and we must not take it for granted. So believe me when I say Sweetbriar is not lost and this is not the end of all that you have known. No, this is just the beginning. Roman’s gang may have tried to destroy us, but we have proven Sweetbriarans are not to be trifled with and in the face of danger we will fight back. We are all survivors. And we will survive.”

  Below me, the townspeople erupt into whoops and hollers and shouts of praise. They clap their hands and pump their fists and embrace each other joyously. I grin as I look down upon my people and watch them celebrate their victory, taking in the sight of each smiling face. In the corner of my eye, I see Connor take a few steps forward to stand at my side. He takes my hand in his, and when I look up at him he is grinning too. As I stare at the remnants of my town and feel the warmth of the first wind of spring upon my skin, I think of the person I was nine months ago and how much has changed since then—how much I have changed. And all of it because of the boy whose fingers are interlaced with mine, who befriended me despite all odds, who taught me how to care for someone other than myself; because of the woman who led Sweetbriar before me, who brought her people victory when all seemed lost and died happily knowing they would be taken care of; because of the preacher who gave his life to save mine and was finally reunited with his family in the end; because of the lieutenant who loved me more than I will ever know; and because of each and every single one of these people who helped return me to life.

  I am Nightshade. I am nineteen years old. And for the first time in my life, I am not alone.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Justine Ashford is a student of English and Creative Writing at the University of Pennsylvania. Her work has been published in Celebrity High Magazine, The F-Word, and Vox Humana and she is the author of a collection of short stories entitled Toys of Misfortune. The Deadly Nightshade is her debut novel.