by S. C. Green
Dorien said he would watch over her tonight, I reminded myself. She won’t come to any harm while he’s there.
Diana’s breath rose and fell heavily. She’d made such a swift recovery already. I thought she had fallen asleep, too, but then her tiny voice broke the silence of my grief.
“Sydney?” she whispered, her voice trembling in the darkness.
“Yes?”
“I...” She was silent for so long that I thought she must’ve fallen asleep. I was just nodding off myself when her tiny voice broke through the silence. “Please don’t call me Red anymore.”
Cory had picked up the nickname from Dorien, and he’d used it so lovingly, as though she were his kid sister, so I couldn’t blame her for turning away from it. I wouldn’t want to use a name like that either.
“Sure thing, pet. Whatever you want.”
“Will May be okay by herself?”
“Of course,” I answered, although in my heart, I wasn’t so sure.
13
When I awoke, I discovered my companions had moved around during the night. Alain had rolled onto his side, his arm draped across my chest, and Diana had somehow wriggled up between us, her head smushed against my back as she nestled against Alain’s chest. Blackie had wrapped himself around the top of my head like some furry kitten turban. All of them snored heavily.
Smiling at my beautiful surroundings, I slid myself out from under them and tiptoed into the hall. Grey light from the window illuminated the room, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep any longer. There was something I had to do.
I moved through the silent halls—the Reapers must’ve been either out protecting the city or catching a few minutes of sleep—and up another floor to Dorien’s room. I knocked on his door, but there was no answer. I finally found him in the main courtyard, sitting on the edge of the garden bed, staring down at the six tiny boxes lined up along the wall. I had to call his name three times before he looked up.
“I’m sorry to disturb you,” I said. “I wanted to ask you how May was last night? She wasn’t disturbed?”
“May? Oh, no. She slept soundly. Not a peep.” His eyes bore into me, ringed with black smudges. His usual cheeky grin was gone, replaced by a drawn expression that made him appear much older than he was. I stared down at those six boxes, and I almost backed off. Dorien didn’t need any more bad news.
But that wasn’t right. He was the leader now. He had to decide what to do, what was best for the Reapers. And that meant he needed all the information.
“I have to tell you something. It’s about Malcolm.” As quickly as I could, I filled him in on the entire conversation I’d overheard between Malcolm, Lucien, and May in the cellars.
Frown lines etched deeply around his mouth. He rubbed his fingers against his temples. “It explains so much,” he said, his breath coming in short gasps. “Malcolm was always trying to make the Reapers suspicious of each other … He kept assigning himself to missions in the Rim … but I just can’t believe that he—”
“It could have been innocent,” I said, and Dorien nodded, even though neither of us believed it.
“Thank you, Sydney. I know it can’t have been easy to tell me this, given everything you’ve experienced the last few days. I’ll investigate this, I promise.” He turned back to the boxes.
I wanted to say something reassuring, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but I knew that was pointless. I turned to leave, but a final thought occurred to me. “Dorien?”
“Huh?”
“Don’t mention this to Alain. I … am worried what it might do to him. He’s in a very fragile state, and if he thought this sex ring were targeting May—”
Dorien nodded but didn’t turn around. “You have my word.”
“Thank you.” I turned away, my boots echoing heavily on the pavement as I left the courtyard.
Back upstairs, I went past May’s room and knocked on the door. She called back to me. Yes, she was awake, but she wanted to be alone. I held my hand against her door just to be sure she was okay and saw her sitting beside her window, staring down at the courtyard, her face drawn and sad. At least she was alone.
Back in Alain’s room, I took off my boots and slipped under the covers, my heart beating hard against my chest. As Diana’s hands wrapped themselves around my stomach, I wondered again if I’d done the right thing.
“IT’S NO GOOD.” Alain sighed as he kicked a metal piston across the concrete floor. “We’re never going to be able to get this.”
We were standing in the small supply closet Cory had used as his workshop, trying to pick up his work in the weapons where he’d left off. All the papers, wires, and gadget parts everywhere reminded me of him, and how he wasn’t here with us anymore.
“We’ve only been at it for three hours,” I reminded him from over the screen of Cory’s ageing laptop, although inside I was feeling a similar level of frustration.
Cory had been a genius, but he wasn’t very methodical. There were notes scattered everywhere, screeds of data on his personal scanner, but with no rhyme or reason to any of it. I’d been trying to decipher his coding for the scanners all morning while Alain worked on the particle guns and the Compound’s water reclamation unit, which was acting up. Neither of us had got very far.
“We need Cory,” Alain growled.
“Well, we don’t have him.” I turned back to the computer, not wanting Alain to see the tears beating a path down my cheeks.
“This is fucking ridiculous.” Something crashed on the floor behind me. Metal pieces skidded across the ground.
I whirled around. Alain was slumped against the metal shelves, his head in his hands.
“How are we going to do this without him?” he asked, his body trembling. “This is my fault. I should have got to him faster. I should have insisted he be on my team. I should—”
“The wraith killed him, not you.” I bent down beside him, stroking his hair. It had been a long time since I’d seen a man this vulnerable, this shaken. I knew I had to choose my words carefully.
“Everything is falling apart.”
I snorted. “That is the understatement of the century.” As soon as it fell out of my mouth, I pushed my lips together in case that had been the wrong thing to say.
But he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against mine. His need consumed me, striking my sorrow from my mind, if only for a little bit. A few moments later, I pulled back, breathing heavily through a blissful smile.
He grinned, too, his cheeks wet with tears. “I’m glad you’re here, Syd.”
“Me, too.”
He hooked a finger into the collar of my shirt and tugged me to him, then he pressed his lips to mine again, his hands exploring my body. He rose to his feet, pulling me with him, our bodies moving together as our excitement mounted. He leaned me against the metal shelves, the cold against my back contrasting with his warm mouth. I loved the feel of his hands on me, the way his tongue probed deep into my mouth. At least we were going to achieve something worthwhile today.
His fingers reached beneath my shirt, tugging it up over my head. I tossed it away while he pulled one breast free, then bent to suck the nipple. I tilted my head back, waves of desire flooding my body as I wound my fingers through his long, thick hair.
He rose up again, kissing me while his fingers danced over my breasts. I ran my hands under his shirt, feeling the hairs on his back stand on end as I scraped my nails over his skin.
There was a knock at the door.
Alain swore, his mouth tearing from mine. I scrambled along the metal shelves and grabbed my shirt from where it had snagged on a protruding screw.
“How are things going in here?” Dorien called through the door.
“Fine!” I yelled back, frantically pulling down my top and straightening my hair.
Alain growled under his breath and stalked back to the computer.
Dorien pushed open the door just as I tugged down the bottom of my shirt. I tried to appear fascinated by what A
lain was doing, not looking at Dorien in the hopes he wouldn’t see the hot flush in my cheeks.
“I just wanted to talk to Sydney,” he said.
I looked at Alain. He wiped the sudden tear from the corner of my eye with his thumb.
“Go,” he whispered and then kissed me softly. “I’ll stay here. Maybe I can make some progress if I’m by myself.”
I closed the door behind me and faced Dorien in the hall.
He had his hood down, his black hair falling over his face. His expression was grave. “Come with me.”
“Why?”
“I need your help with something. A … sensitive matter.” He held out his hand to me. “It’s about what you came to me about this morning.”
I stiffened. Malcolm. Dorien had promised he’d investigate, and he’d found something out already. From the look on his face, it wasn’t good news.
“Are we going to face him alone? Is that … safe?” Somehow, I’d figured the Reapers would have some sort of protocol, some ceremony for when one of their own was caught doing something horrific. They had a ceremony for everything else.
“Not yet. We need evidence first. And an opportunity has come up for me to gather some.”
“What do you need me for?”
“You’re a witness. Follow me.” He turned and strode down the hall.
A witness to what? I followed as unease shivered through my gut.
We continued in silence up the stairs, stopping at the uppermost story, five floors above the courtyard. There were only four rooms leading off the hall, suggesting these rooms were much larger than the others.
Dorien paused in front of the first door, and rapped against the wood with his knuckles. No answer. He tested the door and found it locked. After withdrawing a long key from his pocket, he slotted it into the lock and twisted. The door swung inward. Dorien gestured for me to enter first.
“Whose room is this?” I asked.
“Malcolm’s,” he said, pushing me through the door and closing it behind us. “I’ve sent him out to the Rim on wraith patrol, along with Lucian. Tristan is tailing them at a distance, just in case they try to reach out to their gang contact. While Malcolm is away, we need to search his room.”
This was Malcolm’s room? I glanced around, surprised to see that, despite its lofty size, it wasn’t any different from the other Reaper rooms I had seen. Since the room was in the attic, one wall sloped inward, with two windows along the edge looking out into—and over—the courtyard. The immense space was sparsely decorated with only a plain metal bed, a small bedside table, a wooden chest, a rocking chair, and a standing wardrobe. The only item hanging on the walls was a map of the city from the time before the dome. It was the kind of map drawn up for tourists with the town landmarks—the hall, the clock tower, the Old Bank Building, and the Compound—drawn in larger-than-real size.
“Isn’t that a bit … unfair to snoop in his private things when he’s not here?” I knew from the small picture of May and her mother Alain kept hidden in his drawer that the Reapers valued their privacy. I didn’t want to find out any of Malcolm’s secrets, but I probably needed to know them anyway. For May’s safety. For mine and Diana’s, too.
“If he’s trafficking innocent women through the Compound, I need to know,” Dorien said. “Privacy be damned.”
A loud banging sounded. I cast my gaze around the room, searching for the source. Dorien crossed the room and yanked open the lid of the trunk. I peered over his shoulder. Nothing but a few old black t-shirts, a bottle of whisky, and a small stack of books tied with a ribbon.
“Well, this is illegal, for a start.” Dorien removed the bottle and tucked it under his arm.
The banging sounded again, louder this time, more urgent.
It was coming from under the bed.
“Rats?” I took a step back instinctively.
Dorien shook his head. “There aren’t many rats in the Compound, and they shouldn’t be this high up. The ravens tend to eat them.”
Gross. Nice image right before lunch. But then, Diana and I had eaten a few rodents on our worst days.
I approached the bed gingerly, half certain someone’s bloated, fly-riddled body would be revealed like some kind of living dead nightmare. With slick hands, I lifted the corner of the blanket with my thumb and forefinger, not wanting to touch it any more than necessary.
There was nothing under the bed except for three large moth balls and a small wooden trunk. I breathed a sigh of relief. Dorien went to grab the trunk, but as he did, the banging resumed again.
It was coming from under the floor.
But how could that be, unless … I peered closer at the floorboards. There was a line where the floorboards finished, and it didn’t follow the pattern repeated across the rest of the floor. Dorien must have had the same idea as me because he dragged the metal bed aside. Underneath was a small trapdoor, the bolt locked shut. With shaking fingers, I slid the bolt free and lifted the lid.
The smell hit me first, an unmistakable stench of sweat and bile and feces. It was the kind of smell that hung over the slums of the Rim during the hardest days under the dome—synonymous with human suffering. But that didn’t prepare me for what I saw inside.
A girl sat hunched in a narrow crawlspace. She stared up at us with wide, frightened eyes, and from her features I realised she could not be a day older than May. Her hair was matted to her face, and one of her eyes was blackened. She wore only a tiny red bandeau dress that barely covered her underwear and strappy heels, one of them broken.
She broke into sobs.
“Please,” she whispered, reaching up with her hands. Her wrists had been bound with coarse rope. “Help me.”
I stepped back, too shocked to think clearly. What was this girl doing under Malcolm’s bed, and why was she dressed in little more than underwear? But even as the questions crossed my mind, I knew the answers. Bile burned the back of my throat, and a violent tremor shook through my shoulders.
“Out of my way.” Dorien reached down and picked up the girl.
She burst into tears, her whole body quaking with terror as he dragged her from that filthy cage. She beat at him with her tiny fists, shrieking and sobbing uncontrollably. My heart wrenched for her, for what she must have been through.
When Dorien pulled her over the lip of the crawlspace and knelt her on the floor, he cupped her shoulders in his hands. She shrieked, trying to scamper away, but he held her tight.
“I’m trying to help you. Please,” he begged. “You have to understand. You’re safe now.”
“Here,” I said, finding my voice again. I knelt down beside him and tried to push him away. “Let me take her. She’s been so badly mistreated she’s probably terrified of all men.”
Dorien stood. I cradled the girl’s tiny body against mine, no more than skin and bones. Who was she? Where had she come from? She reached up with clawlike fingers, clutching at my shoulders, her eyes begging me for safety, for release, but all that came from her mouth were terrified shrieks.
“What does this mean?” I asked Dorien as I let her weep against my shoulder, her body shaking uncontrollably.
He stared back at me with a grave expression. “It means,” he replied. “That Malcolm will be standing trial.”
I TOOK the girl to May’s room.
May’s eyes rounded as she took in the state of the trembling girl. “Who’s this? What happened?”
“She was holed up underneath the floor in Malcolm’s room.”
May stared open-mouthed at the floor as she fisted her hands.
“She’s in shock,” I said. “She doesn’t know who here is friend or abuser. And quite frankly, neither do we. Now, help me.”
Inside the communal bathroom, Diana, May, and I undressed her and drew her a bath. She sat in the tub, catatonic, her blue eyes staring off into nothing as we dumped buckets of water over her and rubbed the filth and grime from her hair and body.
May had a spare black cloak for her to
wear, but the girl tossed it away, shrieking. I guessed she associated the coat with something that hurt her. In her frantic eyes and wild screams went my last hope that the sex ring inside the Compound was just an invented tale.
May finally found some tattered jeans and a grey sweatshirt that were about five sizes too big. The clothes hung from the girl’s stick limbs like a tent. She sat beside the window in May’s room, gazing out at the world beyond, her eyes unfocused, lost in her own private hell. Diana talked to her in a high, singsong voice, but the girl gave no sign that she heard. May paced the room, her arms folded across her chest.
A light knock sounded from the door. I pulled it open only a crack.
“Dorien has called a Council meeting,” Alain informed me. “Come with me.”
“Did he tell you everything?” I asked, my gaze not leaving the girl. “I can’t exactly leave right now.”
“Apart from Dorien, you’re the only witness to what happened today. You should be there. And, May, you too. You’re the only female Reaper. Your voice is important.”
“Go,” Diana urged us from her perch on May’s bed. “We’ll be fine.”
“Are you sure?” This girl had been through something so dark, so horrible. She was still acting erratically. As much as my heart ached for her, I didn’t like what she might say to Diana, how she might scare her.
“Go,” Diana said firmly.
I nodded. With a last desperate look at the pair of them, I pulled on the black coat, and May and I followed Alain out the door.
“WHAT CAN BE DONE about the wraith?” Dorien asked the nineteen black-cloaked men who sat in mahogany chairs around the outside of the room.
We were sitting in the Council chamber – a dark, windowless room on a lower floor of the Compound. The only light came from a small ceiling vent in the corner, and two flickering torches on the walls. For many of the men seated, it was their first time serving on the Reaper Council. Dorien had hand-picked each one to be his trusted advisors. According to Alain, he’d chosen wisely, picking men who had demonstrated intelligence and vigour throughout his little insurrection, men who he believed—and Alain agreed—were above reproach.