by S. C. Green
I breathed my relief, though I didn’t have much to be relieved about. No matter what we did, the wraith would win.
15
That night, Alain, Dorien, May, and several other Reapers took another shift out in the city. I wanted to go with them, but Diana begged me to stay with her and the girl. So I relented and took a spot on the edge of the bed in May’s room.
“Her name is Sia,” Diana said as she brushed the girl’s long black hair by the window. “At least, I think that’s her name.”
The girl stared into the distance, her face impassive, her eyes unfocused. Her mind had gone to a dark place far beyond our reach.
“That’s the only thing she says, over and over,” Diana said.
I nodded. “It’s a beautiful name.”
“Sia,” Sia said dully, as if on cue.
Diana gave me a look that said, “see?”, then went back to brushing Sia’s hair.
“Diana, has May said anything to you about Malcolm?” I asked nervously, not wanting to drag Diana into a discussion about something she should never have to even think about.
Diana pushed her mouth to the side, considering. “She is angry at him.”
“Why?”
“She says his mind has been addled, that he no longer has any sense of what is real.” Diana divided Sia’s hair into strips and started to plait it. “I think she felt sorry for him, more than anything. He came to talk to her sometimes, she said. He would pace back and forth in her room and rave for hours about being trapped and how the wraith were not the real enemy.”
“Malcolm would be in May’s room … alone?”
Diana shrugged. “You and Alain are alone all the time.”
“That’s not …” Fuck it. I had to know. I took Diana’s arm so she’d look at me. “Has May ever said anything about Malcolm … touching her? Did he do anything that made her afraid or uncomfortable?”
Diana turned away, shrugging off my touch. Her voice was soft as she said, “No. May said Malcolm was harmless. She said there was someone evil in the Compound, but it wasn’t him.”
I jerked back as if her words had solidified and slammed me in the gut. I thought back to the meeting, to the angry expression on May’s face. Where was that anger directed if not to Malcolm?
“May said Malcolm is too much of a coward to do anything truly evil,” Diana added.
“Did she say who would?”
Diana paused, then shook her head slowly. She wouldn’t meet my eye.
“Are you telling me the truth, pet?” My voice held an edge I reserved for everyone but her, but this time, I couldn’t help it.
Diana nodded, burying her face in Sia’s hair. She didn’t speak a word for the rest of the evening.
THAT NIGHT, I dreamed of my mother again.
We sat on opposite sides of the long boardroom table in her law office. She was flanked by a wall of black-suited clerks, their fingers thrumming a rhythm against the handles of their briefcases, an ominous soundtrack.
On my side of the table, there was only me. I was wearing my expensive private school uniform, the shirt chopped raggedly short with scissors, a pack of cigarette pressing against my thigh. Panic rose in my chest. I knew from the stern look on her face and the way the vein between her eyes pulsed that I was in trouble.
“What do you call this?” She scowled and thrust a file across the table toward me. I flipped open the brown cover, expecting to see my report card or the Ivy League college applications she’d insisted I fill out covered with my graffiti.
Inside was a picture of Alain, perched on the edge of a rooftop, his sharp features focused on some point off the page and his arms spread wide as though he were about to jump. His black coat whipped out behind him. He looked stunning, like a creature of mythology. My breath caught in my throat.
“I call it love,” I spat back at her. That old familiar anger rose in my gut. Why did she have to take everything in my life and find fault in it? Why was my happiness open for her to destroy? Why was I never good enough for her? “Something you don’t understand.”
“Love is not going to get you into a top school.” She tapped the file with her blood-red nails. “This hooligan is going to get you pregnant. You’re going to drop out and waste your life, and I’m not going to support you. No daughter of mine is going to be a drain on society. I will not stand for it.”
“Is that all I am to you, a vessel through which you mirror your own sorry existence?” My anger flared. “Maybe I want more from my life than making money and climbing to the top of an abhorrent business. Maybe I don’t want to feed my family by putting murderers and rapists back on the street. Maybe, if I had a daughter, I’d take the time to actually see her, instead of trying to turn her into an empty, vapid, automaton like you!”
Someone moved behind me. I whirled around.
At the door of the boardroom stood Dorien, dressed in a doctor’s outfit. He twirled a gleaming stethoscope around his long fingers. “I’ve got some bad news,” he told me. “You’re not going to have a daughter. Now or ever.”
I turned back around, not wanting to deal with that particular pain. But when I saw my mother again, terror froze my veins.
My mother’s face had morphed into that of Lewis, my ex. His brown eyes glared at me with that simmering rage that usually signalled a fist would fly at my face. I choked back a scream.
He reached across the table and grabbed the file from my hands, tearing it in half.
“What’s wrong, Sydney?” He sneered, rapping blood-red talons against the glass table. His jaw clenched, the veins on his neck pulsing. “Aren’t you glad to see me again? I thought we could pick up where we left off.”
My whole body tensed as he drew his hand back. The red of his fingernails pulsed against my eyes, growing into giant welts that covered my vision. Red, red, red. My whole body screamed in terror as I felt that fist soaring toward me ...
I WOKE up with Alain’s arms wrapped around me. I’d been so engrossed in the dream, I hadn’t even woken up when he had come in and settled in bed to sleep next to me. His chest rose and fell with even breaths, his face serene. Panic rose in my chest when I didn’t see Diana, but then I remembered she and Sia were sleeping in May’s room. We were alone.
It was just a dream.
I lay still, letting the warmth of Alain’s body soothe the thundering of my heart. I ran my finger over his cheek. He stirred, his eyes flickering open, those long, dark lashes feathering his cheeks.
“Hey,” he whispered, a smile in his voice.
“Hey.” His skin felt warm, alive. There was a fresh gash across his cheek. I ran my fingers over the cut, my heart swelling with fear. One night soon, he wouldn’t return. But he was here now, warm and living and beautiful.
He kissed me, prying my lips open and slipping his tongue inside. His hands explored my body, running over my shoulders, skimming my breasts, and then cupping my cheeks.
We made love, languidly, as though we were newlyweds honeymooning at the beach, instead of two lost souls swimming in an ocean of the world’s bullshit. As he entered me, I thought again about the rawness of the act, the beauty of being so close to him that we could literally create life in this moment. My heart soared, and my body collapsed into orgasm.
We lay together, legs and sheets tangled around us, and talked, spilling from topic to topic, avoiding the question that hung between us: “When will one of us be alone again?”
Instead, I held him and told him about running away when I was seventeen. About how my mother had only seen me when I achieved something, how she groomed me to lie and manipulate so I would be a top lawyer, how stifled and sick I felt inside that house that never let me breathe. How tired I was of hiding my sight from her, and how her voice cracked with shame when she yelled at me to stop being so odd. How, weeks after I left, I discovered the power—a strange and terrifying sight that I could not control. How I kept waiting, hoping she would show up in my squat, drag me home, tell me she was worried
about me, that she loved me, that she wasn’t afraid of me and my strangeness. But she never did.
Alain gripped me back and told me about May growing up, her first steps, the way she used to terrorise Cory when they played together. He spoke of his pride as she took up the sword as a Reaper, and finally, he told me of their night in the city, where six more Reapers had died. How he’d faced off against the Mayor once again, how everything seemed hopeless.
Grey light streamed in the window. Alain’s voice faded away, and he collapsed into a heavy sleep. I untangled myself from him and pulled on my only clothes, still stained with Cory’s blood.
I went down the hall to May’s room. Questions burned in my mind. I needed answers. I needed to talk to her.
I knocked on the door and heard no answer. I tried the handle, expecting it to be locked. I’d made certain they locked it from the inside last night to ensure that Sia remained safe before Malcolm’s trial today. To my surprise, the handle turned easily, and the door creaked open.
One of the girls must have got up in the night to use the bathroom and forgot to lock it. I peeked my head inside. May had draped her black cloak over the window, and the room was dim. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust. May was curled up in the window, sleeping upright. In the bed, Diana slept like a starfish, her legs and arms spread wide. There was no sign of Sia.
A dark feeling twisted in my gut. I strode across the room and shook May’s shoulder. In the grey light, her scars and burns appeared to shine.
“Where’s Sia?” I demanded.
May stirred. She glanced over to me, her face relaxing as she recognised me. “Hey, Sydney.”
“May, this door was unlocked, and Sia isn’t here.” I pointed at the bed.
She rubbed her eyes, focusing on the figure of Diana in the bed.
“No,” she moaned. “That can’t be. I was here all night, watching them. I—” She sprang to her feet, fumbling on her nightstand for something. She pulled a chipped teacup from beside her bed and sniffed it suspiciously. “That bastard,” she hissed.
“What?”
“My tea.” She held up the cup. “I always have some when I come back from the city. This cup could have been laced with a sleeping draught. But with Cory gone, I have no way to tell. He knew how to test for that kind of thing.”
I strode toward the door. We could talk about tea after I found Sia. “Your father is good with chemicals. Perhaps we could ask him to—”
“No,” May practically shouted..
Behind her, Diana opened one eye.
I turned and stepped toward her. “Why not? May, is something wrong?”
May seemed to deflate, and when she spoke again, her voice was firm and calm. “No. I’m sorry, Sydney. Please don’t say anything to Dad. He’s been worse than ever, so silent and withdrawn since I got back. He’s mourning for this city the way he mourned my mother. I’m worried for him. I don’t want to cause him more pain. There’s probably no sleeping draught. I’m just making excuses for the fact I fell asleep when I should have been watching them. Sia will be around here somewhere.”
I patted May’s shoulder. “She probably went to the bathroom and took a wrong turn somewhere. I’ll find her.”
May nodded without meeting my gaze and sat back down beside the window. “Of course.”
I ran from the room. I checked the bathroom at the end of the hall and the supply closets on either side. Sia wasn’t there. Panic rising into my throat, I raced down the stairs to find Alain, but as I rounded the corner at full speed, I crashed into a Reaper coming up the other way.
I fell back against the concrete steps.
A strong hand reached down and pulled me to my feet.
“Where are you off to in such a hurry?” Dorien gave me a wan smile. “Breakfast isn’t for another hour yet.”
“Dorien, thank the gods I found you.” I grabbed his arm. “Sia’s missing.”
“Who?”
“Sia. The girl we found in Malcolm’s room. I’ve just come from May’s room. The door was left open, and I can’t find Sia anywhere. I’ve checked the bathroom and cupboards on this floor. What if someone’s done something to her so she can’t speak against Malcolm at the trial—”
“She’s gone,” Dorien said simply.
“What do you mean, she’s gone?” I demanded.
“I met her earlier this morning, wandering the halls. She’d recovered enough of her strength to speak again. She asked me to return her to her family. She said she was grateful for our help—and especially for your care—but that she couldn’t spend another minute inside these walls.”
Questions wound tight around my tongue as I digested what he’d said. “And you just let her walk out?”
“She wasn’t a prisoner here,” Dorien replied.
I couldn’t believe him. What the hell was he thinking? “She was traumatised. She’s in no position to be cast out onto the streets, not with the wraith out in force. We don’t even know if her family are still alive. You’ve as good as killed her.”
Dorien squeezed his eyes shut. “I had no choice, Sydney. She wanted to leave. She begged me to let her go. If I kept her here against my will, how would I be any better than Malcolm?”
“How do you even know Malcolm was responsible? Sia was supposed to speak against her accuser at the trial. How can there be a trial without the star witness?” My voice pitched higher with every question out of worry for Sia and the justice she deserved. But this whole thing sat like a heavy, bitter stone in my stomach that in no way felt right.
“Before I escorted her outside the gates, I took Sia to the basement. She identified Malcolm as her assailant, as well as two other Reapers who took their pleasure with her.” Dorien’s face darkened. “I followed all the procedures we have for cases like this. The Council has satisfied itself in terms of evidence against these brothers. There will not be a trail. Tomorrow, we’ll seek justice on her behalf.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning, Malcolm, Lucien, and Benjamin will be beheaded for their crimes.”
16
Despite the press of Reapers crammed into the courtyard, the still air rose goosebumps along my bare arms. I stood between Diana and Alain, each one of them gripping my hands so tightly my fingers ached. I had tried to force Diana to stay in our room, but she insisted she should be here. “I owe it to Sia.”
May stood beside her father, her face stony, her eyes red with tears. I glanced around me. Every face appeared stricken. No one spoke.
From the far door, drums sounded, and a short procession emerged from the door to the council chamber. Two drummers led the march, beating their hands against rough-animal skins. Then came the three condemned men, bound together with coarse rope—the same kind that had bound Sia’s wrists, I realised with horror. Even with a hood obscuring his face, Malcolm’s towering body and regal countenance was instantly recognisable. While the others kept their heads lowered, he held his high, the outline of his nose visible through the black fabric.
Dorien brought up the rear, holding the sceptre aloft, the symbol of his powers as a magistrate over the Order.
Why was there no trial? As I stared at the three hooded men, a knife of doubt twisted in my gut. From the shuffling of feet and hushed conversations around me, I got the feeling I wasn't the only one. What was the hurry to execute the three prisoners?
The doubt tugged at me, swelling inside me like a bad seed cracking open and reaching for the sun. Questions swirled around me, spurred by Diana’s doubts about Malcolm’s guilt and the strange conversation I’d had with May. I wanted to tell Alain about what she’d said, about a sleeping draught, but May’s words weighed heavily on me. I didn’t want to cause Alain any more pain, either, in case my worries were unfounded.
I thought I might have begun to understand May’s concern. The madness she had described to Diana that had claimed Malcolm--the dome sickness so often whispered about in the Rim--could it not have claimed others? We were all trapp
ed behind the dome, doomed to die an excruciating death, our souls never able to rest. We all bore the terrible truth of the wraith upon our shoulders, but now, one man bore more than the rest of us.
Dorien. As soon as the thought entered my mind, I realised it was true. For all his easy words and friendly smiles, he was hiding a great darkness gnawing inside him. He had lost more of his brothers in the last few days than any other leader before him. The Reapers were losing control of Petrified City, and the responsibility for keeping it lay squarely on Dorien’s shoulders. He was drowning in guilt and horror and pain, and it was turning him to madness. That was why he was executing Malcolm, Lucien, and Benjamin without trial. I did believe they were guilty, if Sia identified them. But they should still have had the trial they were entitled to. But Dorien needed them to die—he was making them the scapegoats, using their blood to cleanse the order and reassert its power.
The drums beat slowly so that between each thud my heart pounded in my ears. The whole scene seemed faded, unreal, like the white blindness of the Citadel. I felt oddly detached, as though I stood behind my own shoulder, looking over as the Council forced the condemned men to kneel. A casual observer, unfeeling, not yet ready to speak out until I knew more.
“Alain.” I tugged on his hand, and he bent his head toward me. “Do you believe these men are guilty?”
“I’ve known Lucien my entire life. He was a kind, if hard, man, a good father to Cory. He lost his wife in the first year of the dome. I don’t believe him capable of this. But perhaps the sickness in Malcolm’s mind has taken him also. We must believe Sia, no matter how difficult it is for us.”
“I have a bad feeling about this.”
“It’s not a nice thing,” he replied, his mouth set in a firm line. “But it must be done. We can’t have this poison within the brotherhood, not when there is a bigger battle to wage.”
“But there was no trial,” I whispered. “How can they be killed without a trial?”