True Storm

by L. E. Sterling

  Horror washes through me, both Margot’s and my own. Until this moment, we’d both barely considered the alternative. Our parents could be in trouble. They could be dead. And then who will we be? a little voice inside me mocks. I tamp it down, disgusted with myself, as Margot reaches for my fingers.

  “You’re welcome to stay here tonight,” Storm tells Shane. But it’s not a voice I’m accustomed to hearing from our guardian. He casts a long, tangled shadow across the room. It stretches over Shane like a shroud, ending in extravagant antlers. His eyes burn mercury. “But while I extend my hospitality, there are certain rules you’ll need to abide by. No weapons. Lucy and Margot are under my protection now. And should anyone try to harm them or interfere with my guardianship, I will respond with swift and certain justice.”

  Shane accepts the unsubtle threat with a crooked grin, his one gold tooth glimmering in his mouth. “Grateful to you, Mr. Storm. A bed and a wash would come in handy. I just want to find some steady work and to do right by these two here.” He nods at us.

  “Good. We’ll talk further in the morning. But now”—Storm turns his attention to Margot and me—“ladies, I think it’s time you were off to bed. You have a tutorial tomorrow, don’t you?”

  “But—” I start to argue, only to be met with the shade of winter thrown off by Storm’s eyes. I snap my mouth closed. There will be no dealing with Alastair’s betrayal. Not tonight, at any rate.

  …

  The clock ticks. Eight. Nine. I turn over onto my side. The sheets tangle in my legs, boiling my too-sensitive skin. I can still feel the trace of Jared’s hands on my knees from earlier in the evening. My mind hums like a swarm of bees and ticks through the relentless pieces of a maddening puzzle.

  Shane. The Watchers. Father Wes. Theodore Nash. Resnikov. Our parents. Alastair. Storm. Doc Raines.

  Jared.

  Ten. I start counting all over again. There are so many tangles I can’t possibly sort through them all. And the biggest of all: our own blood, Margot’s and mine, and what it might be capable of.

  It’s thoughts of my sister that finally set me to my feet. I pull on a robe and tie it hastily, then shove my feet into slippers. It’s not like it was at our home, when Margot and I would dash into each other’s rooms as though they were our own. Here we are separated by yards of hallway, walls, doors that don’t join our rooms. And most troubling of all: Margot’s secrets.

  I rap softly on her door. “Mar?” The door isn’t locked, so I let myself in, feeling the strange distance between us, like a skin we no longer share. The room is quiet, still. The curtain flaps gently at its ends where the window is cracked open. The form on the bed doesn’t move. But she is not sleeping.

  Her wakefulness calls me. “Margot,” I call out in our quiet-quiet way. Threading my way through clothes strewn about the floor like land mines, I sit on the bed beside her. My hand rests on her ribs. “Mar.”

  She turns and stares at me through glittery eyes. For a moment I have the vertiginous sense of looking back at myself through her eyes. An illusion. Must be. Margot flips to her back and moves over. I flop onto the warm spot left by her body. Our fingers reach out automatically to touch.

  “What’s wrong?” The silence of the room almost swallows my sister’s hushed voice.

  “Don’t you mean, what’s wrong now?” I try to joke, but it comes out flat. This is no laughing matter.

  “Sure. That.” My sister lets go of my fingers and eases a hand over my hair. Her touch is soft, gentle. It soothes me in ways I can’t describe. It almost breaks my heart.

  I swallow past the lump in my throat. “Turns out I might be in a bit of trouble.”

  “You?” There’s laughter in her voice. When did the tables tip so completely? When did I become the trouble-magnet sister? “Well, might as well tell me, then. Maybe I can help.”

  “It’s Shane. Well, it’s sort of Shane.”

  Margot plays with a skein of my hair. “It’s wonderful to see him, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” I admit.

  “So why are you upset? What has this got to do with your troubles, Lu?” She props herself up to see me better.

  “Makes you realize, I reckon. They had such high expectations for us. How can we ever live up to them while we’re here, living this life?” And high up on their list, along with top grades and making the right connections, was achieving the right marriage. In our world, marriage is a political alliance that furthers the family’s interests.

  Margot’s hands still, her expression grim. “Why do you think we’d have to? It’s enough that Storm has us finishing our degrees.”

  “We’re still the Fox sisters. They’re still our parents. They may come back.”

  “Lucy.” Margot lets out a huffy breath. “I think you need to face facts. It’s really doubtful they’ll come back.”

  “Why? What do you know?” Because she does know something. She’s holding back. I feel the wall between us, so thick it might as well be a prison.

  “I know they’ve likely washed their hands of us.”

  “But why? What did we do?” The tears start, the ones I’d been refusing since the moment our house was demolished and Margot was ripped away from me.

  “Nothing. We did nothing, Lu. Listen to me.” And I can’t help but respond to the note of authority in her voice. “We. Did. Nothing. This is their fault.”

  I ponder this thread for a moment before speaking again. “Would you have married him?” She doesn’t need me to say the name. It hangs there between us. Resnikov.

  “Yes,” she coughs out.

  “Really?”

  She doesn’t answer. But inside her unfurls a hard, bright emotion I don’t have a name for. She’s hiding this from me, comes the treacherous thought. And then, What did that lunatic do to her? For a lunatic Leo Resnikov surely was. And our parents—God only knows what kind of deal they had worked out between them, but I reckon it was a bad one.

  “Mar.” I still her hand on my hair and touch her cheek. “You know you can tell me anything.”

  She nods, her eyes bright with unshed tears. But there it is, a still seed within her, a secret she won’t share. I hate it. It makes me feel sick that she’d keep things from me. And yet, I have to admit I have been keeping my own secrets, too.

  As if she’s read my mind, Margot asks in a bright, curious voice, “Will you marry Ali?” I choke and sit up to cough it out. Mar pounds me on the back. “You okay?”

  I nod through the tears, feeling foolish and about ten years old. Because I don’t think I can admit to my sister the truth of my folly, the mess I’m in.

  “No,” I finally say, but in answer to which question, I’m not sure.

  “No, you’re right,” Margot muses with a peal of laughter. “You’ll likely marry Storm.”

  “What?” I screech. My stomach curls into knots and I find I want to dive under the covers rather than reply. Has Margot seen the shift in Storm’s attitude towards me? “Why would you say that? He’s our guardian.”

  Margot shrugs. “It’s the smart move. Storm is the most powerful man in Dominion right now.”

  “You reckon Father might have matched us?”

  Margot sighs, and a husk of her hair floats away from her face. “I don’t know, Lu. I don’t think I know what our parents would or wouldn’t do any longer. And I’m not even sure it matters.” There it is again: a secret. “All I know is, Nolan Storm is quickly becoming one of the most important men in Nor-Am. And on top of that, he’s our guardian. And on top of that…” Her smile is lopsided and strange, accompanied by something sharp and bright in her words, her heart, that I don’t understand. “I reckon he’s grooming you for the position.”

  My mouth flaps open and closed as I sit there in stunned silence. And yet, Margot’s not wrong. I can try to ignore it or deny it all I want, but maybe it would be smarter to start thinking about what Nolan Storm might want from me, and me alone. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m a Fox,”
Margot says in tones so black I’d as soon call them shadows. “I’d never joke about marriage.”

  …

  You can smell despair on every street corner as the preacher men set up their soap boxes and talk of the coming of peace, of Plague Cure. Yet safe in Storm’s keep, we’re treated to the crumbs of our old life of privilege, safety. Certainty.

  Blinking, I drag myself out of bed and try to ignore the sinking feeling in my gut as I stare at the empty chair across from me, its lacy, girlish pillows intact. But this morning is different, I remind myself. Everything is different today.

  Margot’s brightness zings through me. I rush into the kitchen and throw myself into Shane’s arms for a massive hug. His biceps are huge, covered in the intricate Celtic knot work he says is his religion—if a merc like him could be said to have a religion other than death dealing.

  “Mornin’.” He snuffles into my hair, then pulls back to put a heavy hand on my head. “Holy Plague Fire, you girls are growing up to be fine ladies.” He grins that familiar grin. But the lines of his face are tight, and the smile doesn’t quite stretch to his eyes. I sit down beside Margot. We watch our father’s man happily for a moment as he quietly sips his coffee and studies us from under half-lowered lids.

  “You got a reason for staring, you sassy Foxes?” His voice booms across the room.

  Beside me, Margot giggles. I delight in how she feels, lighter than she’s been in months, as though suddenly the hands of the clock have tumbled us back to a simpler time. I grab a piece of toast from the pile Alma has left, though she’s nowhere to be seen.

  “Shane.” She giggles some more, half covering her mouth. “Will you take us to the school this morning? For old time’s sake?”

  Shane sets down his coffee mug and shoots us a curious look. “Now why on earth would you girls be heading back to Grayguard? Didn’t you finish that place off last year?”

  Margot and I share a startled glance. She taps a finger on the table. You tell him.

  “Well…” I pause to diplomatically compose our downfall—though to save Shane’s feelings or our own, I’m not certain. “Margot was in Russia and didn’t get to finish the year. And I was… Well, I was too busy to finish…” I blush. “So when Margot returned, Storm made a deal with the school that will see us finish up our credits.”

  Margot’s mouth turns down into a pout. “Essentially he’s making us do this. He says the piece of paper is important. We’re almost there, though. Just two more exams.”

  Shane’s face crumbles. “Oh, girls.” He hangs his head. His long hair tangles down so I can see dirty blond streaks mixed with white and black. When Shane finally looks at us again, his eyes are suspiciously bright. He runs a hand over his stubbled cheeks. “I don’t even know what to say. You don’t have a clue how many nights I lay awake just praying you were both alive.” Alarm skitters through me, though it’s not my own. “I owe you both a debt of honor, and I hope you’ll forgive me for letting this happen to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you.”

  Shane’s eyes travel back to his hands, where he grips his coffee mug like it’s a pistol. I fold my fingers over his callused flesh. “This isn’t your doing, Shane. Mother and Father…” I start. But I am at a loss as to how to finish that thought. I offer him a brittle smile. “We’re fine. The True Borns took us in like we were their own.”

  “They shouldn’t have had to save you. It should have been me.” He thumps his chest with a meaty hand. But what is the sense in wading back into the past? I wonder. It’s littered only with the bones of what might have been.

  …

  We enter the cavernous foyer of Grayguard. I feel sick as I rehearse what I’m going to say should Ali be foolish enough to show his face today. At the same time, I try to ignore the feeling of déjà vu that pricked me with unease, like a squeeze to the neck, as Shane dropped us at the huge wooden doors of the school this morning. Margot gently reaches across my back and tugs a lock of my hair. It feels soft and sweet, a reminder of times past.

  “What is it?”

  I heave my bag higher on my shoulder. “Doesn’t it feel strange to you?” I whisper back.

  Eyes on us. Eyes everywhere as the other students fill the hall, rambunctious with laughter and chatter. I lower my gaze and concentrate on my feet as we walk toward our lockers. If I can’t see them, maybe they can’t see me. Margot clears her throat. I know she’s feeling the same way I am. Exposed. “What? This?”

  I shake my head. “Shane. Here he is, returned and picking up right where we all left off. But how can he? Our old life is gone. I don’t know how to make the two fit.”

  Margot takes a second to consider before she nods. “I reckon you’re right.” Her chin dips she answers me. “I sometimes wish we could go back, believe it or not. Things were so much…simpler. There is no way, I know that. But I’m not sure I can imagine a way forward, either. And…what if we’re just stuck, right here, forever?”

  “Do you trust him?”

  I don’t realize how much I want my sister to say yes, she trusts Shane without reservation, until she nods. “As much as anybody, outside of you. I mean, I trust him more than Mother and Father. Don’t you?”

  “We have only a handful of allies, and he’s one of them. We don’t really have the luxury of mistrusting him. Do we?”

  We stop in the midst of the crowded hall, our troubled eyes locked on each other. Murmurs and grunts of disapproval fill the air as all around us the student body flows like water flowing past two rocks.

  There’s an old proverb in Dominion, bandied about the Upper Circle, but it flies like a poison arrow to our hearts.

  An Upper Circler won’t survive without family.

  13

  The air is a sullen gray mass as Margot and I push open the doors of the school and blink against the brightness. We scan the schoolyard, teeming with surly-looking men in uniform. Across the street, an entire squadron of blue hazmat suits enters a building. I shiver, feeling that familiar cold seep inside my bones, and pull my jacket tighter around me. It’s never a good sign to see more than two rovers at a time—it’s likely to mean a nest of Plague victims has been found. It happens that way sometimes. Sometimes whole families will drop dead near to the same time. Our genomics teacher explained that this is because there are similarities in genetics inherited from generation to generation, blueprints that give us our hair coloring, our eyes…even the likelihood of our deaths.

  I feel a nudge from Margot. “Someone’s here to see you,” she trills in a singsong voice.

  I follow her gaze to the stone obelisk of the front gate. Alastair stands there, a bright posy of flowers held close to his chest. Under a flop of his long brown hair, Ali wears a “guilty as charged” look. At least, I think to myself, he wasn’t stupid enough to break in to the courtyard today.

  He’s lucky he’s still wearing his head, I reckon. Serena had gleefully told Storm about Ali’s little necklace trick. And I doubt Storm wasted any time in voicing his opinion of the situation. I simply chose to ignore Ali’s calls that had lit up my phone ever since.

  “Oh, brother.”

  Beside me, Margot giggles, her eyes flashing mischievously. “I think it’s sweet you’ve got so many beaus, little sister.”

  I grit my teeth in a rigor mortis smile. “Don’t you dare abandon me, Margot.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t miss this for the world, Lucinda, don’t worry,” she teases.

  Ali takes a few tentative steps forward, a hopeful look taking the place of the guilt, as Margot and I descend the long marble staircase of the school. As we draw near, Ali all but throws the bouquet at me.

  “For you,” he mumbles.

  I gaze down my nose at Ali, giving him my best ice-princess glare. Margot titters into her hand, her laughter coursing through my veins. The silence lengthens. I notice Ali’s ash-blond friend, Tomas, lurking behind him with a bland expression. Ali swallows loudly.

  When I say nothing, Alastair dives i
n. “Lucy, look. I know I probably should have said something about the whole betrothal thing.” I didn’t know my eyebrow could hitch higher, but it does. “It’s just that it’s a tradition in my clan, and I didn’t want to scare you… I mean—”

  I cut him off with an imperious swipe of my hand.

  “Get it off me. Now.”

  I pull my hair back, fully expecting him to move around me and obey. But he doesn’t move.

  “Ali,” I say through clenched teeth. “Get. This. Off. Me.”

  But instead of acting, Alastair puts a hand to his chest, as though in pain. “I want to do as you’re asking, Lucy. I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to. But see, the thing is, I can’t.”

  My eyes pop wide. Panic claws at me. Margot places a hand on my shoulder, as though she expects me to lunge at the young man in front of me. “What did you say?”

  He looks sheepishly at the ground. “I’m saying I can’t.”

  “Why?”

  “Because. Once the promise is made, it can’t easily be broken.”

  “So? I didn’t make any promise.”

  “Also, it requires a special person from our clan to do it, and that person currently lives…in Russia?” His inflection rises. “Remember him? Tom? Cilia’s husband.”

  I don’t have words. I am speechless. But I do have an anger that has mounted out of control, zipping through my veins like electricity. I don’t even notice myself doing it. And so it’s likely with as much shock as I read on Alastair’s face that I haul back and punch him square in the face.

  I pull my aching fist away, wondering if I’m going to do it again. But his friend has stepped in and shields Ali from me just as Margot yanks my arm and marches me away. Alastair leans over his feet, grabbing at his cheek with both hands.

  Good, I’ve hurt him, I think to myself, consumed by a burning rage. And I’m ready to do more.