by Emma Pullar
‘The warden.’ I whisper. She must have let Cara overpower her.
‘What are you doing?’ Mistress Vable’s wicked voice stings the air. ‘Shut the door!’
‘Coming, my love.’ Master Vable sings out.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say, and I am. ‘It’s my fault Bunce was captured. I should have listened to him.’
‘None of us could have predicted this,’ he says, emotion in his voice making up for the lack of it in his lenses. ‘And the more I think about it, the more I admire you both.’
‘For what?’
‘Taking a risk. Taking control of your life.’
I try to smile, but I have never felt more out of control in my whole life.
Master Vable pushes a button on his hover-chair. A lid flips up and he plunges his thick fingers into the hole, pulling out something shiny.
‘The attic isn’t guarded, it’s locked with this.’
He hands me the curious object; gold with a loop at one end, a long stem and a jagged edge at the other.
‘It’s an old way of locking doors. Put it in the keyhole in the attic door and turn,’ he takes a breath. ‘Then use the handle and the door will open. Please help him, Ms Skyla. He’s miserable without you. I’m concerned for his health.’
‘Okay,’ I say.
I touch Master Vable’s plump hand and then march off to the sound of his stifled breathing. I head for the servants’ stairs. I push everything Master Vable confessed to the back of my mind and remember all the emotions I felt when I was with Bunce. I can’t wait to see him. We can finally be free. I make plans in my head. We’ll leave the city, escape into the desert, there must be something out there. I leap the stairs two at a time, joy driving me. Joy! I haven’t felt like this since I was a little girl, and what’s this key? What a strange object. I hold it tight and its curves imprint on my palm. I arrive at the attic door out of breath and elated. I push the key into a small slot under the handle and turn. It takes a little brute force … then it moves and click, I turn the handle and throw the door open.
‘No!’ I scream. ‘Oh please, no!’
I fall to my knees, shock spilling out onto the floorboards in floods of tears. My beaked helmet drops from my head and clonks against the hard wood. The room spins. I hang on to the floor, it feels like it’s falling away beneath me. I crawl on all fours, I have to get to him. I take a deep breath, hold on to my dizzy head and I get to my feet. Trembling all over, I pick up the overturned chair, carefully climb onto it and pull the dagger from the guard belt. The ceilings are low and the makeshift noose has been tied off over an exposed beam. I grasp the rainbow-stripe tie with one hand and start cutting. His body brushes against me as I saw into the fibres. I keep sawing at the cost of the overstretched tendons in my arm. The last thread snaps and the body falls to the floor with a heavy thud. I climb down from the chair, shoving the knife into my worn boot. I kneel beside the body. His face is grey, eyes closed, swollen purple. I want to lift the lids but I know he won’t look at me, he won’t suddenly come back to life simply because I lift his eyelids.
‘Oh, Bunce, why?’ I whisper, and force my fingers under the strained material at his neck. It’s too tight. I can’t get it off.
My tears rain down on his cheeks and it’s as if he cries with me. I lay my hand on his chest, over his un-beating heart. Bunce touched my heart. He saved my soul and I brought him death. I’m the reason the Dark Angel took him. I notice he’s wearing their words. The System Works is stitched in bold white cotton below the embroidered city emblem. My fingers curl around the badge beside his right lapel. About to rip the logo off, I feel a solid edge beneath. I peel back Bunce’s blazer, slip my hand into the breast pocket and pull out a mini touchpad. My hands tremble as I tap the screen. Black lettering appears, paragraphs I know I don’t want to read, but I must, because they’re for me.
Dear Skyla,
I hope this letter finds you. It probably won’t but if it does, I want you to know I love you with all my heart. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you and I don’t regret going with you.
I scroll down, the screen is small and my finger has to pass over several times to read each line.
My brother-in-link told me you’ve been reassigned to prison work, that you’ll be locked away forever. I hate to think of you back in that awful place. They keep me locked up in the attic. I’m only let out to attend the education unit or when they want to run tests on me. The tests make me ill. Constant headaches and my stomach feels like a fireball lives inside it. They’ve taken so much of my blood. I’m sure they mean to kill me. I won’t go on their terms. I say when the Dark Angel comes for me!
I want you to know I did what you said. I agreed to cure Kally, in secret. She didn’t come alone. She tricked me. There were three of them. They all wanted to be cured. I said no. They wouldn’t listen. Every time I close my eyes I hear them laughing. I feel their hands grabbing at me. It makes me sick to the stomach. All people do is take. Strip you down until there’s nothing left. Everyone wants their pound of flesh!
You said you wanted to save the city. You can’t save something that’s dead. Gale City is dead. Curing Morbs will only make things worse. We are a selfish, greedy, insular race, you were right. And if by some miracle you manage to escape Rock Vault a second time, please Skyla, leave this place and never come back. As for me, I don’t want to live without you.
Remember, your home is in my heart.
Forever.
Bunce.
I stare until the words melt together in a black smudge. Tears drop on the small screen and distort the words. I read over the second to last word again.
‘Forever.’
I close my eyes, freeing more salty tears. I shove the screen into my pocket and press my lips to Bunce’s cold forehead. I snatch a pillow from the bed in the corner and gently lift his head to place the soft pillow underneath. He’s finally at peace but I’m enraged. Hot anger rises in my chest. Those bitches think they can take what they want and get on with their new lives. He’d come so far, grown so much and now he’s dead.
I step over Bunce’s body and up to the window. Adult Morbs hover along and youngsters stroll through the spaghetti of tubes oblivious to what’s gone on in this attic, ignorant to my reality. I study each pale creature. Which of you did it? The sky is as dark as my thoughts but Mother Nature is nothing compared to the storm brewing inside me. A long grey cloud sails over the city, swallowing everything in its path. Palm trees bend and quiver in the rushing wind. A thunderclap startles the crows settled in the nearest trees at the edge of the Morbihan side of town, their fretful caws dispel into turbulence above. Thunder and gales are a warning of danger, but there’ll be no warning about me. I am the storm and they don’t know I’m coming.
I will avenge Bunce.
Birds are pushed from the trees by a blink of lightning, they disappear into the grey horizon like ashes scattered to the wind. Thunder crackles and a jagged line tears across the darkness in a luminous flash of silver.
I step back over Bunce, scoop my guard helmet from the floor and press my palm to the alarm on the wall. The siren immediately screams, filling the building with its whining.
‘Rest easy, Bunce,’ I coo to my dead lover. ‘Your suffering is over.’
Back out the door, I hurry down the steps and dash down the corridor, rush down more steps. I need to get out before the guards come pouring in and find Bunce. I need to get across town.
I run down the tube at top speed. My legs charge onward with little effort from my brain, no need to push myself to keep going, emotional power courses though me. I burst from the Morb complex and smack into a wall of thick, humid air, rain lashes my body, guard uniform instantly soaked, right through to my skin. The storm rages and I march into the desolation, water running off the front of my beaked helmet in a waterfall. I think of Bunce, of Bullet, Dove, Andia, of Crow, of Clover and Cara and Tess; they rush through my head like a kaleidoscope of lost souls. I march on,
into the eye of the storm.
People think there are choices. They think they have life and a reason to breathe. They don’t but now I do. My choices are black and white. Remain inside the darkness or walk into my light. Live for revenge or die for nothing. I live. They die. That’s it.
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Acknowledgments
There are so many people to thank. Too many to list, so I’m going to do the best I can and if I have forgotten anyone then I hope they’ll remind me to mention them in book two.
To my husband, Chris and our wonderful daughters, I could not have done this without your patience and understanding. I love you to Mars and back. I want to ‘thank’ my cheeky cat, Rupert, for generally being a nightmare; furry backside in my face while tapping his paws on the keyboard pretending he’s the writer.
Right, here comes the mega list of awesomeness that is my writing support network.
Thank you to Betsy and Fred at Bloodhound Books for taking a chance on me, I’m forever grateful. Thank you to Nebojsa Zoric, who designed the fantastic cover. Thank you to my editor Emma Mitchell and to Eileen Wilson for last minute proofreading and tips. Big hugs to the rest of the Bloodhound gang for all your support.
I want to thank my agent, Vicki Marsdon, for always believing in me, and my brilliant band of beta readers who have been valuable beyond words, I could not have done this without them, they are: Shel Thomson, Heather Gower, Leah Porter, Nick Jackson, Jade S Bokhari, Liv Brennan, Prachi Percy Sharma, Sandy McPeak and Cliona Gibson. I also want to thank Elinor D. Perry-Smith for being the first to edit this novel when it was in its infancy. I learned a great deal from your notes.
I want to thank my mentors: John F McDonald and Lucy V Hay. I give thanks to John for his great advice over the years and to Lucy for being my guide. I cannot thank Lucy enough for all she has done. I want to thank Samantha Shannon and Gemma Todd, they are amazingly talented writers who I’ve learned a great deal from, thank you for your advice and for being an inspiration. Thank you to Derin Attwood and Lee Murry for giving me the courage to carry on.
That brings me to Carmen Radtke and Racheal Howard who encouraged me to enter competitions and offered ongoing support, along with all the Bang2writers and Create50 writers who exchanged feedback with me. I want to thank Chris Jones for encouraging me to shoot for the stars, and a big thank you to Niki-Mark Hadden for being a guiding light in the darkness. I also want to mention Sarah Hardy and Sumaira Wilson for holding my hand through this process, and Libby and Chris for all their help with the launch. Thank you to all who leave reviews. These are the biggest gifts.
I thank my parents, ma and pa, and the rest of my extended family for always believing in me, not forgetting my lovely grandmother for being my biggest cheerleader. I also want to thank all my friends. My besties, my online community and everyone from the village. Thank you for always supporting my writing career and celebrating in every success while also being there when my work was rejected. Special thanks to Emma Keating, Olga Ghosh, Debbie Thorton, Joanna Horne and Emma Cooke for listing to me ramble on about writing. An extra special thank you to Rita and Richard Bishop who provided me with the most beautiful and inspiring space in which to write. Lastly, thank you to all those who bought this book. Readers are amazing people. Thank you for connecting with me.
Glossary
Air-Soles: Connective strips applied to the bottom of shoes enabling the wearer to glide through the air rather than walk/run.
Augur: One who studies birds.
Avian: Relating to birds.
Bathing Block: Where Skel’s go to wash/use the toilet.
Central: The ruling elite of Gale City.
Central Side: A city suburb.
Crownado: A tornado of crows.
Cube: A small one room dwelling with kitchenette.
Cube Block: A block of one room dwellings.
Drift Side: A city suburb.
Eremites: Skel’s who have opted out of the system.
Gale City: The name of the city.
Galva: A type of rifle, shoots electrifying bullets.
Glo-Girl: A prostitute who works for drugs.
Glory: A dangerous street drug.
Glory Runner: A drug dealer.
High-Host: A Skel who has finished her birthing duties.
Host: A Skel chosen to carry Morbihan babies.
Hover-Chair: A life support for Morbihan which hovers from A to B.
Hover-Cycle: An electrically charged bike.
Hyper Market: A place where Skel’s order groceries for their masters.
Knuckle-knife: A knuckle duster with two retractable blades.
Link: A lifelong lover.
Melontines: A hybrid fruit. Melon and clementine.
Morbihan/Morbs: Martian Organism of Raised Biological Intelligence with Humanoid Attributes and Nature. Cloned race.
Morb Complex: Where the Morbihan live.
Mutil: A mutilated Skel.
Octli: A drink made from fragmented plant sap.
Palm-pad: A locking system of which most pads are deactivated.
Park Side: A city suburb.
Rock Vault: The city prison.
Ruinous: Bionic dog/wolf hybrid.
Serum 574: The cure for the Morbihan obesity.
Showcase: A ceremony for selecting hosts.
Skel: A skeletal looking city worker.
Skel Hell: Torturous afterlife for evil souls.
Sky Train: A monorail.
Slum Lord: An Eremite who rules over the city dump.
STRATA -K: A spaceship.
The Barracks: The guard training grounds and residence.
The Dark Angel: Death AKA the Grim Reaper.
The Day of the Bird: A day recognised after the crows of Gale City murdered hundreds of Skels.
The Glory in the Sky: Heavenly afterlife for good souls.
The Hub: Where the High-Hosts and their link partners live.
The Spiral: Central Headquarters.
Tube: A clear walkway/hoverway connecting buildings.
Vector Ring: An electrically charged barrier encircling the dump.
Verity: A spiritual healer who can feel what ails a person, sometimes also an agony aunt.
Vision Screen: A television which projects holograms.