by Terina Adams
I welcomed this in the end, but now that it was complete, I felt like a traitor.
Chapter 25
Archon reclined in his chair, fingers steepled, gaze fixed on me. Like everywhere I’d been so far, his office resembled a morgue minus the bodies. Surfaces gleaming pristine, stark, sterile, unwelcoming, the sort of place that made you feel you were dirtying it by your presence alone, the sort of place that made you want to keep moving and not stay awhile or grow roots for a decent duration. Two glasses half full of amber liquid sat on the table in front of us, unlikely to be scotch or whiskey.
My body felt heavy, my heart as well. All I wanted to do was curl up on the cot in my cell and pretend nothing happened. Regrets sucked. Being free of destruction seemed like the right choice while in the grafter’s room. Everything the grafter said made sense. He made freedom from destruction reasonable, more than that, desirable, the only sane choice to make. His words offered a sanctuary from the shame I harbored inside for all the things I’d done under the control of destruction, a chance to be normal again. Away from him now, I felt different. Half of me was missing. At what point had I come to accept destruction as me, a vital part of myself that belonged?
I loathed the things I’d done since discovering my factional nature, but to turn my back on that side of myself was to turn my back on everything that brought me here. Jax, Dad, Elva, and the team, Dominus, the reason I was thrown into the game, the reason I began this fight, the reason the fringe dwellers struggled to live, the reason the children were stolen. I never wanted to be a part of any war, but I could never undo what I now knew; I would never stop knowing what it felt like to be destruction. I would never stop feeling like I lost an important part of myself. I would become one of the many who filled the streets of Califax. The outsider, I was no longer like Jax, Elva, Islia, Nuke, and Patrick, my friends.
I stared at a spot above Archon’s head, avoiding his stare, my mind empty.
“It will take some getting used to.”
I shifted my gaze to him. “You know, do you?” He wasn’t grafted. He couldn’t be, not with the way he manipulated my feelings in the lift.
He dropped his hands and sat forward. “What if our factional natures weren’t a gift? What if they were a curse?”
“That’s a matter of perception.”
“Maybe not. I want you to look at something.” His eyes were weirdly unfocused. Something I’d become accustomed to when people consulted their cephulets. On the wall behind him, images moved into focus. The clarity of the images increased until I stared at a street scene in the aftermath of a terrible tragedy. A few supporting walls remained, but the streets were mostly destroyed. Everything was coated with a fine film of ash, shrouding the city of Califax in a gloomy gray. Even the sun’s rays couldn’t penetrate the heavy layer of destruction floating as a cloud over the landscape. Bodies were visible, a leg poking out of a pile of rubble, a mangled torso and head, two people seeming locked in an embrace, their bodies partially melded together as if they’d been made of wax and left in the sun too long. Blood, blood, blood, staining everything a dirty, dusty reddish-brown.
Archon didn’t turn his head to see the images behind him. His gaze stayed on me, catching the flinch in my expression, because he wanted me to suffer. This was about reeducation, fearing who you were. Put your trust in the senate, the images demanded, for this was the only way.
I’d had enough, turning my head from the images to stare at the floor.
“This is your gift to Califax.”
It was as though I could feel the shards of crystal in his eyes gouging deep into my skin. I longed to touch the tattoo behind my ear. Not in front of him. Islia was ungrafted, an Aris, who lived peacefully with his factional nature. He wasn’t an uncontrollable monster. And what about the other fringe dwellers who lived alongside each other without conflict? I’d been so afraid of myself.
“Why won’t you look?” His voice was soft, kind.
“I know what you’re doing.”
“Is the truth so hard for you?”
From your perspective, yes. But there was truth to what he showed me. Were these not images from a time when no one was grafted? Had the people of this world changed enough from then to live in peace with one another if they were free to use their factional natures? The people in the fringe managed it, but they had a reason to unite. Take that reason away, and would they still see their neighbors as their friends? Was the man who grafted me right?
I didn’t have a cephulet flicking images in front of my eyes, but I didn’t need one. My memory did a great job of haunting me with the plea in Jax’s eyes the day he told me he didn’t want to be the monster inside. Rather than be free of it, he committed the ultimate sin. As Aris, he killed someone, as had I. There was no going back for either of us. Our souls were burned. When I was destruction, the right judgment didn’t matter, neither did morals. Winning was everything. But at what point do you give up, stand aside, and let someone dictate your life, and what do you have to fight?
“There is no real right and wrong. All we can do is make the best choice for the greater population,” Archon said.
The images behind Archon disappeared, so too the lies hiding in his crystal-like eyes. “I think we understand each other.”
I blinked. He’s twisting my mind. This is nothing but Set deception. It had to be.
Archon came around his desk, close to me, resting back like he was preparing for a long and comforting chat. Everything in me twitched and tightened. I tried not to react and push myself back into my seat like it would gain me distance. No way would I be that transparent. We’re not friends.
“It’s within these walls unity begins.”
Was he for real? Delivered like he was reading my mind. Set couldn’t do that, could they?
“It’s through trust, Sable, that we make a difference. As a community, we win.”
The use of my name, as if calling my eyes to his, pricked my attention. How did he know my name? Instead of doing what he wanted of me, I stared at his hands clasped in front of him, resting casually in the semi-bend of his legs as he leaned on his desk. His nails were trimmed, manicured. Soft hands, a man that didn’t do the heavy tasks. Why would he, when he had others to do it for him? Archon pulled the strings, and everyone danced. Under his sleeve, I’d find nothing, no tattoo over a graft to signal his sacrifice, because he didn’t have to make a sacrifice. His harmony came at the detriment of everyone else’s freedom.
How did he know my name?
“What happens now?”
Archon rose. “How about I show you around?”
“I meant when my reeducation is over. What will you do with me?” I didn’t belong here. Would they force me to stay?
“Let’s take this a step at a time.”
“Why am I the only one in D-block?”
“D-block is for those who need… encouragement. I think you’ve passed that stage already.”
“Does that mean I graduate to a new room?” I didn’t want to be in there all alone.
“I’ll certainly put forward the request. It may take a day or two, but I’ll get you out of there.”
“Are you like this with everyone?”
“And how is that?”
“Accommodating.”
“When it is warranted, yes.”
His eyes called to me, reaching out and sweeping me close. Why was it warranted with me? “What time is it?”
“Late, if you're to see what I want to show you.” He glided off the table and headed for the door.
In the corridor, he gave time for me to catch up with him. I had no idea which way we headed, if back toward the grafting room or in another direction.
“The man who grafted me, what was his factional nature?”
“Why do you want to know?”
“Curious?”
From his profile, I caught the smile. If I looked closely enough, I’d probably read it as a smirk. Around a corner, we found a woman waitin
g by the lift at the end of the corridor. Appearing like a wax statue, or maybe a cyborg, her expression was a mask, disinterest painted on every inch of her face. Her eyes mapped Archon’s approach. It was like I wasn’t even there.
Archon opened the door to the lift with his palm. “Wait inside.” A command dressed as a suggestion.
I caught Archon’s profile as the door slid closed. While not as useful as seeing his expression front on, I saw enough to know he wasn’t happy. I didn’t know what Archon would look like angry, but in the short seconds before the metal doors shut me in, his body turned rigid, arms slapped to his hips, already knowing he wouldn’t like what she had to say.
My warped reflection stared back at me. Not quite that perfect mirror, my features were a blur; no swollen nose and top lip to be seen here.
As I was staring at my reflection, the sudden hiss of the lift door opening left me facing Archon. The woman had disappeared. The smile made its usual reappearance. Even his body language had flipped, looking relaxed and limber yet poised and ready.
“Sorry about that.” He stepped inside. I took a few paces left, creating distance.
The lift left my stomach behind on its upward flight. As quickly, we slowed to a stop. When the door opened, I felt the subtle pressure of Archon’s hand at the small of my back. I took a large stride out into the corridor to rid myself of his touch.
“We should be in time,” he said as he headed off down the corridor.
“For what?”
“That would ruin the surprise.” His sideways glance was enchanting, a boyish upward sweep of his lips, like a hopeful date eager to impress as he matched his steps with mine. The mercurial turn of his mood screamed caution. Before the lift door closed him out, I got the sense Archon could turn to steel and that a steely Archon was not a nice person, only to be confused by this playful side, light and airy like a summer breeze.
He was a man well-schooled for his job. His manner made people feel comfortable and relaxed in his presence. Such consideration as matching his gait to mine rather than forcing me to keep up hinted at a man who paid attention to those around him, more than most. What I couldn’t decide was whether that made him dangerous. In the beginning, Jax had said to win Dominus, I was to lie, cheat, and deceive. I would assume he was preparing me for life in Califax, else why have Dominus played that way?
Archon guided me through another door to a landing. From this high, we looked through a glass wall over the vast open space I passed through when I first arrived, or something similar. It was still vacant.
“This is where everyone gets some exercise.”
“Is there any chance to exercise outside?” They weren’t big on windows in this place. But maybe we were too far within the compound to have windows.
“There are select times for outside activities.”
“How long do people stay here?”
“That depends on them. Those who accept the truth early, leave early. We have a high success rate, which means most don’t stay too long.”
Once grafted, there was likely little reason to keep them. “Is that why D-block is vacant?”
“The last left a moon span ago.”
“Where are the children taken?”
“This facility is not appropriately equipped for children.”
“What happens to them afterward? Do they ever see their parents again?”
“We try our hardest to locate the parents. It does society no good to create parentless children. We want the best for the children. We want all our citizens to understand that we work for the betterment of Califax and the surrounding provinces. We want everyone united.”
“The parents would have to be grafted to get their children back.”
“Don’t make it sound calculating. It is the best solution. Everyone comes to understand and accept that in the end.”
Archon’s nurturing scenario was not Jax’s Califax, nor the Califax they’d built in Dominus. I’d been given opposing views, but which one was I to believe? Did people like Carter and my father, people who built Dominus to train emotionally distilled warriors, develop this facility, govern these rules, even encourage rebel families to be together?
“Come on. I promised to show you something.”
Archon led me along the landing. We passed out of sight of the expansive room, and the glass became a solid wall, but farther along, it opened up to glass again, and we looked down on a room full of tables. At the tables sat people dressed in gray overalls, prisoners like me.
I stopped and placed my hands on the glass as I peered down on them eating.
“The dining hall. It’s late, and I’m keeping you from your dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”
There had to be hundreds of people down there. “That’s a lot of people.”
“Most of them are from outside Califax.”
“The provinces?”
He nodded. “There are pockets of resistance to our ways in Califax. Some who have slipped through our yearly census. These are people looking for a better life but need to understand the rules governing the city. Once they are reeducated, they will be welcomed into Califax and given homes.”
“How many people from the countryside come to the city?”
“Enough to fill our tables. Certain times of the year, it gets tough in the provinces, creating an influx of people. Most are grafted. It tends to be those from the far reaches of the countryside who have the most resistance, places like Uradra and Guilia.”
A jolt sheared through my body upon hearing the name. My knuckles turned white as my hands pressed into the glass wall.
“But come, we’re dawdling.” He picked up his pace, forcing me to jog. A few more strides and we left the dining hall behind and slipped through another door. Dry wind parched my face, bringing with it the clogging smell of dust. I’d made two steps out the door, no farther, before I stopped short, gaping like a toddler. The sun hung low on the horizon, but already a few stars were visible. Along with three moons. One big enough to dwarf the other two and fill a good part of the sky.
“Riddean.” I breathed the name, awed by its beauty. This big, it seemed a bridge was all we needed to get across.
“She is beautiful, isn’t she?”
We were standing by the railing, the vastness of the desert below. Archon stood close enough for me to feel the heat of his arm through the sleeve of his shirt. It was a distraction, but I didn’t want to draw attention to the fact by moving away. Instead, I stared at the ground below. Given Riddean’s closeness, the murkiness of dusk had disappeared.
The expanse of the desert spread to the horizon. No place to shelter from the heat for anyone out there. “When will you release me?”
“Steady. It’s not that easy. We have to be sure you are one of us now.”
My breath stopped. “And how will you do that?”
He took my hand and moved it toward him. Ignoring my first desire to yank it away, I watched his expression. Wasn’t that what you did with an opponent? Wasn’t that what Jax and Holden tried to teach me through all our sparring matches?
He pulled the sleeve of my gray overalls up and bared my wrist. “You do not have a cephulet.”
“Do I need one?”
“You will need to be monitored during the initial phase of reintroduction into society. It’s a precautionary measure. We like to make sure everyone is acclimatizing well.”
Maybe it was a false memory, but I was sure in the early days Jax said for some the grafts failed. There was nothing but emptiness inside me. Nothing roamed under my skin, roiling to be let loose.
“We will give you one soon. It’s important you are connected to the biostream as part of our reeducation and reintroduction program. From time to time, you will be requested to meet at your HQ for further education. We want to make this as problem-free as we can.”
“Once I have the cephulet, you will release me?”
Archon turned back to the moon. “There are a few more things that need doing
before then.”
“Will you tell me what is going to happen?”
“No, but I will tell you one thing. The man who did your graft, Martimon, is a Set.”
Chapter 26
A harsh light bored through my eyelids. I opened them to find I was not in Alithia’s safe room curled around Azrael. Instead, I curled around the standard issue, rough, gray blanket, which smelled like tens of dozens of unwashed bodies and a stale stuck-in-a-cupboard stench.
I’d spent what seemed like most of the night in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. The utter silence left me alone with too many thoughts, too many regrets, too many seething emotions. All directed at Carter. To be fair, my dad should cop half my fury, since he was part of the Dominus mastermind. But there weren’t enough people left in my life for me to cut any of them out.
The same beeping from last night sounded again. I untangled my legs from the stale blanket when the lock to my cell door clanked open. Already, I was moving to their rhythm, responding to the heavy horns and beeps as if they were voiced commands. Without the black bracelet, I doubted I’d suffer the same excruciating headaches, but I wasn’t about to take any chances.
Out on the landing, I peered through the metal grille to Archon standing below, hands akimbo, looking up at me. As a high-ranking official, he was free to go wherever he chose. If only he treated me like everyone else in here, showing disinterest from a distance.
“You must be hungry.”
“Do I get a shower first?”
“If you’re quick. Our schedule is pinched.”
What do you want from me? Did he plan on standing there while I had a shower? As if reading my thoughts, he said, “I’ll be back in ten minutes,” turned on his heels, and marched out of my cell block. Ten minutes. I scooted to the showers, stripping as I went. In the chute waited more clean overalls, so I trod all over the ones I’d worn then used them after the shower as a bathmat to keep my feet dry. When I left the shower room, Archon returned. I was sure I’d been quicker than ten minutes.