“Did you and Locket have a tragic love affair?” She sighs romantically. Hyde sniggers at my horrified expression. “Is he suffering for you the way Kyle suffered for Rosa? I saw the way he ignored Theo and followed you into the bathroom, the way he watched you fight. You should have seen the smile on his face when Beck went down. I bet he would have pulverized that bastard if he’d actually hurt you. Oh! It must have killed him when you went into the Prison!”
Hyde’s shoulders are shaking with amusement and my annoyed expression is only fuelling his mirth.
I roll my eyes. “Laugh it up, jack-ass.”
“Women are way more fun than men.” Clapping a hand over his mouth, Hyde smothers the sound of his laughter. His face reddens with the effort to stay quiet. “I can’t imagine you with Locket. Remember the time he threw you into a Collector’s bin and locked the lid?”
“You were there for that?”
“Yeah, but I didn’t know you and only an idiot takes on Locket without a crew to back him up. Word has it the Collectors who found you tried to sell you at a slave auction.”
“Q Sector bastards will try to turn a profit on anything they find.”
“But you got away. When you bumped into Locket the next day he stole your identity card and left it at the scene of a crime. The Cops came looking for you instead of him.”
“It took me months of hiding and scraping to organize a new alias.”
This particular memory still leaves me loathing the very mention of Locket’s name. Every citizen has two cards, a credit balance and an identity card. The credit balance keeps track of a person’s funds; only the identity card contains personal information. Some Criminals base their entire careers on stealing rich citizens’ credit balances. When Locket stole my identity card he did more than just lead the Cops to my doorstep. That was the first time the Cops caught me and the first time I managed to escape custody. In the long run, I gained new respect from Criminals, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to damage Locket afterward.
Hyde is gleefully remembering all the crappy things Locket has ever done to me. Apparently, most of the stories are common knowledge. Who knew that Locket and I have an audience? Everyone’s waiting for me to retaliate and wondering why I haven’t yet. They don’t know that he saved my life.
Hyde’s white, toothy grin is glowing in the dim light. “You gotta hand it to the guy, he’s creative when he hates somebody.”
“Sure,” I agree, unable to cover my sarcasm. “Creative is definitely the word I’d use to describe him.”
Lily has been daydreaming for the past couple of minutes and hasn’t heard a word of our conversation. Somewhere in that passionate and imaginative brain of hers she’s constructing an elaborate love story. She sighs dreamily and my anger melts away. A sudden and overpowering rush of warmth settles in my chest as I watch her snuggle happily into Hyde. She makes our ugly world a place where love abounds. Even something as ridiculous as Locket and I being lovers can exist there. I don’t know how to explain to her that Locket is the reason I’m going to be dead in three days. I don’t know how to explain to myself that I’m going to be dead in three days.
It occurs to me that I should be frightened, maybe even hysterical. But I haven’t absorbed the knowledge yet. I’m keeping it at a safe distance. It won’t be long before the shock wears off, so I’ve decided to enjoy the time that I have. Spending it with Lily is part of that, but there are other people I want to say good-bye to, people I want to hold once more.
As I remember those that I love, my skin prickles and a deep yearning swallows me whole. Tears gather in my eyes. I forgot about love in the Prison.
Before the memories sweep me away, I dig my fingernails into the back of my hand. The pain helps me retreat back into emotional numbness. Taking a deep, steadying breath, I refuse to think about my past.
Marietta enters the room and I sigh in relief. Everyone turns around to watch her weave through the chairs and a smile of false modesty appears on her face. She’s always been a sucker for adoration; the audience’s respectful silence has her floating towards her chair.
From my position in the shadowy corner. she looks like the same old Marietta—grey hair, glittering eyes, and fiery soul. In her hands she’s holding a small, mysterious rectangular object that sort of reminds me of a brick. My head starts to buzz; my psychic talent is telling me to pay attention. The object is cut into hundreds of thin slices that are held together at the side but, other than being peculiar, it doesn’t look very impressive.
“Dar Alistair,” Marietta greets. She reaches her chair and turns around to proudly survey her audience. “How lovely to see you again.”
That name makes Hyde and I stand a little taller. Every sector has a Dar. They’re the highest-ranking official in their sector. Dar Alistair is from the Court, making him one of the most powerful people in the City.
The man himself stands and takes her offered hand in his own. Smiling with contained admiration, a small glimmer of good esteem twinkling in his eyes, the white-haired lawmaker executes a small bow. Now that is interesting… Court citizens never bow to B sector citizens, especially a wanted Criminal. As though he’s at some higher function, Dar Alistair is dressed in blue and purple clothes made from new materials. White gold jewelry adorns his fingers and wrists.
“I would not have declined this invitation for all the minerals in V Sector.”
Smile broadening at his flattery Marietta bids him return to his seat so that the performance can begin. “You should enjoy this week’s selection.”
She lifts the rectangular object triumphantly for all to see. My head keeps buzzing and I stand up straight to get a better look. Marietta’s twinkling eyes brush over the audience. Hyde, Lily and I sink deeper into the shadows. She doesn’t raise the alarm, so we relax.
“You’ll all remember last week that we finished Gengi’s Legend and that I promised to begin a new one.”
Her rich and captivating voice is already weaving its familiar spell over the audience. She hasn’t even begun her performance but everyone is leaning towards her, eager for more. It won’t be long before the cramped room will drop away entirely and we’ll find ourselves fighting alongside Eileen Hebra in the Mole Riots, or waiting for Blaise Ali to rescue us from a Cop ambush. They’ve always been my favourite heroes and I’m silently hoping that Marietta will be in a battle mood instead of a romantic one. Actually, I’m a little choked that I missed the Gengi Legend. I’ve never heard it before.
To my surprise, Marietta sits down and gives her full attention to the strange object in her hands. This is usually the part where she puffs out her chest and dramatically throws her words out over the audience. Flipping through the thin slices of the object, making soft rustling noises, she peruses something inside.
“I would like to introduce everyone to Don Quixote.”
She smiles in satisfaction. The people are quivering with anticipation. I, however, am utterly baffled. Where are the grand arm gestures? Where’s the eye contact that can make you feel like the only person in the room? Who the heck is Donkey Hotay?
Frustrated, wishing she would return to the classics, I repress an angry growl. Marietta’s eyes drink in the object in front of her.
“What is that?” Lily whispers in my ear.
Shaking my head, I watch Marietta turn the thin slices. Her eyes are moving quickly, her face nearly buried in the strange rectangle.
Something mysterious and mystical happens when she beings to speak. Even without the grand gestures, I am listening to every syllable. There are certain words I don’t understand (buckler, greyhound, books) but it doesn’t seem to matter. This madman knight, as Marietta calls him, has me enthralled. I can’t figure out what sector he’s from, but there’s something about him that captures my attention.
As the Whisperer speaks, I fall into an intense trance and picture myself in a different world than this one: the air is clean, the land is green, and cool water stretches out as far as
the eye can see.
It’s the glorious and mythical Oasis. This is the place of legend that can’t exist even though everyone secretly hopes that it does. People lost in the desert, if they’re found, rave about a spectacularly green and blue mirage that kept them walking towards the east. Always just out of their grasp, they followed it until they collapsed from exhaustion.
This lunatic, this Donkey Hotay, has somehow caught a mirage. It’s driven him mad but his tarnished conquest has me spellbound. I’ve been lost in the desert. I never told anyone, but I saw the Oasis shining on the horizon. It was so beautiful I thought it might be worth dying for. But then I remembered that it wasn’t real, that it couldn’t exist, so I turned away.
It occurs to me that Marietta’s mysterious rectangle might be the source of this tale. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her focus her energy on anything other than her audience. The buzzing in my head increases and my curiosity gets the better of me. I want a closer look at what she’s holding in her hands.
My interest doubles when she closes the sliced rectangle. “We shall continue next week.”
The show is over. They all burst into rapturous applause but I am keeping my eye on the prize.
Marietta stands, accepting the attention that is being lavished upon her with artificial serenity. I vibrate with anticipation, silently grateful for her ravenous ego. People are reaching out to shake her hands. In her eagerness to accept their exaltation the Whisperer puts the rectangle down on her seat. All I need now is for her to take a few steps away.
Lily and Hyde motion towards the door. This is the perfect time for us all to sneak out so that Klem doesn’t find himself short a job. Lily grabs my sleeve and pulls me with her, but I pry off her fingers.
“I’ll meet you around the corner.”
Lily makes a small noise of protest, but Hyde grabs her by the hand and pulls her away. Throwing me a lazy grin, he whisks her through the door. I’m eagerly watching the small crowd pull Marietta away from her seat. She’s off the little wooden shelf now. This will be my only chance. I have to take it.
Throbbing with excitement, I skim the edge of the crowd. There’s no reason to watch Marietta. If she catches me she catches me—I don’t know how long my window is and I can’t waste precious time worrying about her.
Pretending to be relaxed and dispassionate, I stroll up to her chair and brush the rectangle into my hands. It’s lighter than I expected. There are little black markings throughout the slits but I don’t know what they’re for. My hair stands up on end when I caress its smooth surface.
There is no way I’m leaving it behind.
Everyone is still entranced with Marietta and she is soaring with merriment. Anxiously waiting for an opportunity to sneak through the cramped room, I tuck the peculiar object into my inside jacket pocket. A few people smile at me lightly. They figure I’m a member of their elite club and aren’t questioning my presence yet.
“Such an amusing story,” an elegant woman remarks to Marietta. “I prefer Arthur’s Legend, but this is comparable to Gengi’s.”
“I’m glad you were entertained,” Marietta returns. “Each of my Legends holds a special place in my heart.”
I duck when her gaze sweeps across the room once more. Her eyebrows draw together in confusion when she notices that her chair is empty. It’s time for me to get out of here. While she is weaving her way back to her chair, I weave my way toward and out the door.
Klem gives me a sour look when I brush by him. “Enjoy the show?”
“Quite a bit,” I answer, hoping he doesn’t take a swipe at me. “I see why it’s invitation only. Don’t worry. She didn’t know we were there.”
My words don’t do anything to lift his spirits but I don’t really care. The sun is already peeking over the buildings and I feel like I’ve been hit with a wrecking ball. The object I stole is burning a hole in my jacket, but I can’t risk looking at it. I’m not in the clear yet.
Lily and Hyde are waiting for me down the street.
“What was that all about?” Lily asks.
This isn’t the time to explain. Marietta already knows that her …whatever it is…is missing. Hyde notices the bulge in my jacket and does me a huge favour.
“Come on, Lily,” he says, giving her a significant look. “We should get back to the restaurant.”
Lily stares at us suspiciously but then relaxes. Rubbing her eyes, she grins sheepishly. “I must be tired. I thought you might get yourself into trouble.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Lily,” I assure her.
Gazing at me sadly, Lily shoots me a brave smile. “That’s what Radcliff always used to say.”
Lily isn’t worrying about nothing; angering a Whisperer can bring down a world of trouble. Not that it matters much. I’m dead in three days anyway.
9
After a delicious breakfast of freshly brewed coffee and omelettes, I decide not to tell Lily about my little side venture. She needs the Whisperers. If they find out that she was involved with the theft they won’t let her in to their performances. That would just about ruin her. Insanity and depression are also universally illegal; Lily wouldn’t last one minute in the Prison.
“I’ve never heard that Legend before,” Lily says into her third cup of coffee.
“I don’t think any of us have,” I reply. Leaning back in the booth, I rub my sore neck. If I’m not careful I’m going to pass out in what’s left of my omelet. “I get the feeling that it didn’t even happen here.”
“You too?” Lily yawns as she slumps a little lower in our booth. Large, black circles have settled underneath her eyes and she is struggling to keep herself awake. “You mean it might have happened before the City? Whatever that was…”
Her eyes drift closed, her head slumps onto Hyde’s chest and her breathing deepens. She’s out.
Hyde, on the other hand, seems to be doing just fine. He’s flung his suit jacket over a coat rack and rolled the sleeves of his beautiful shirt up to his elbows. Brushing Lily’s hair out of her face, he tenderly kisses the top of her head.
Rosamund, one of the waitresses, comes over to fill my coffee cup.
“You need anything else?” she asks. I shake my head. Leaning in, she pretends to wipe a coffee spill from our table. “Well, Lenny says everything is free for you guys this morning, so you might want to take advantage.”
“Pie,” says Hyde quickly. “Apple if you have it.”
“Will do, and you Daryl?”
“Apple pie,” I echo while trying to conceal a yawn. I don’t think the coffee is ever going to kick in.
“Two apples, great; I’ll tell him to put on whip cream and ice cream too.” She walks away with our orders.
Hyde and I sit in silence. We don’t have anything to talk about…or so I think.
“Lily’s been ordered to procreate,” he states.
I offer Hyde hollow congratulations. The word procreate makes me nauseous. Curling my lips in distaste, I shift uncomfortably in my seat. Orders of this kind are standard practice for women who are over twenty-two years old. I manage to avoid it because I always pay extra to make my alias barren. Pregnancy wouldn’t help me any. Besides, someone coming by one day and ordering me to have a baby doesn’t sit well with me. It doesn’t even matter to them whether or not you have a man in your life. They’ll provide one for you.
After another extended silence, Hyde continues. “I don’t exist.”
I shrug at his predicament. It has nothing to do with me. A man has to apply to impregnate a woman. Once he’s been accepted there aren’t any problems. But Hyde is what Criminals call a ghost: he doesn’t have an identity on the system. Ghosts live in hideouts, like Jack and his crew. I’m what’s known as an alias: I rent a box above ground. It exposes me to Cop radar but I don’t run the risk of being executed. The Prison incinerates anyone caught without an identity.
Hyde is staring at me and I realize that he wants to keep talking about this. Unsure
as to why he’s suddenly so serious, I ask a standard question. “How long before they send her to a breeding house?”
“Two weeks.”
Rosamund comes back with our pie. Steam rises out of the dessert and the vanilla ice cream is melting over its crust. It looks delicious but I’m suddenly not hungry. We both thank our waitress and she smiles happily before leaving us to our conversation.
I can sense the tension in Hyde’s body even though he looks completely calm. No Criminal relishes the idea of losing their citizen-lover to the system. Once Lily is gone, she’s gone. She’ll be assigned a new box to live in with whoever fathers her child. Hyde can still be in her life, but that kind of situation gets too complicated for most lovers. Considering how long they’ve been together, I’m guessing that Hyde isn’t going to let her go without a fight.
“Are you going to make her into a ghost or make yourself into an alias?”
“It’s expensive to mess with the system,” Hyde says. Pushing his pie to the side, he takes out his credit balance. “A botched job will bring the Cops. I’m going to ask you for a favour.”
I already know what he wants. “Keep my half of the credits from Madman’s reward. I’m not going to need it.”
“I also need a line to Frenzy.”
That name sends a chill up my spine. Of course, Hyde needs a line to Frenzy; everybody needs a line to Frenzy. The woman walking past the restaurant’s window needs a line to Frenzy; the kid being dragged to the bathroom and yelling for his mother needs a line to Frenzy; even the decrepit, old man with his nose buried in a glass of cheap wine needs a line to Frenzy.
He’s is a manipulator, a Criminal who can jack his brain right into the system. It’s not a rare talent, but Frenzy is a rare person. He’s gifted. The system is a gigantic code—infinite, according to him. By rearranging small parts of it he changes information. He’s nearly a Legend, a hero amongst manipulators, the only one you can truly count on to get the job done.
And I’m one of his precious few gatekeepers.
Even though I’ve been gone for over two years Hyde knows—I know—that I can still get to him. When Jack found his illegal path into the Court he needed a crew to operate it. He would only hire the best so Ash Martin, Frenzy, became part of his team. But jacking into the system is a delicate process. One wrong shift with his brain and the Cops will catch him. Certain jobs can take hours, even days, of pure concentration. Afterwards, Ash can barely talk; he hits his head against walls and tries to pull the veins out of his arms.
The Line Page 7