Green Jack

by Alyxandra Harvey

  Chapter 30

  Jane

  With Saffron and Roarke already striking sparks off each other, Jane was able to fade into the background and observe. They went deeper into the forest, the leaves rustling in some secret language around them. She tried to read patterns in the branches, the sound of birds, the dapple of sunlight—but with no success. There was both too much and too little to see.

  They finally came to a compound built on a small lake. It must have originally been a campground or a resort; there were wooden cabins and a main octagonal hall. A faded broken sign read Arowhon Pines. People emerged from the buildings and along the rocky beach. “Got ourselves a new Green Jill,” Roarke announced. “A mouthy one.”

  The answering murmurs were both curious and curiously respectful. They glanced at Saffron, then to a man standing on the nearby porch. He was older, with dark blond hair. His hair was scruffy, his stance calm. If Roarke was the leader, Jane wondered why everyone was looking at him as if waiting for some kind of sign.

  No one noticed her noticing. Except him. She wasn’t accustomed to that. He leapt over the porch railing, stalking towards her without a word. Jane glanced behind her, expecting danger, but there was nothing there. She backed away from the intensity of his approach, but he was faster, closing the distance between them. She recognized the blue eyes from her omens. Too late, she wondered if they’d been a guide or a warning.

  He had taken one of the daggers from his belt and she hadn’t seen him do it, even staring at him as she was. His blue eyes pinned her, trapped her. She remembered every horror story she’d ever heard about the Greencoats. Adrenaline spiked like rose thorns. Before she could bump into the tree behind her, he spun her around and pressed her cheek to the mossy bark. She struggled but he was stronger, faster. Saffron shouted something foul but Roarke held her back. She drove her head back into his face, cracking his nose.

  “Easy,” the man said to Jane.

  Right before he stabbed her.

  He dragged the tip of his dagger over her numina mark. Pain bit deep but brief. Hot blood trickled down her neck and onto her collar as he let her go. She turned around, wide-eyed, pressing a hand to the small wound.

  “What the jacking hell?” Saffron demanded.

  Roarke held his nose and spat blood. “That one’s not even a fighter. This one’s the one to watch.”

  “Actually, she’s the most dangerous one here,” Caradoc insisted quietly, wiping his blade clean before sheathing it.

  A small incredulous laugh burst out of Jane. “You must have me confused with somebody else.”

  “Sweetheart, that tattoo bound you to the Collegium. They use it to track numina and their powers. If you have more than the usual, you get sick. It’s an early warning system. If they tattooed you, they’d have been watching you. Might still, if you’re a spy.”

  “I’m not a spy.”

  “I wouldn’t expect a spy to say otherwise.”

  Jane thought of the countless times she’d knelt to show her mark during safety drills, Saffron’s reaction to her tag, Cartimandua asking about her headaches, and inspecting her tattoo at the parapet.

  And then her head was a crucible of fire, a winter cave full of teeth. She knew her eyes were open but she didn’t see Caradoc or Saffron, nor the trees or the water. Omens strobed like lightning, electricity coursing through her after every flash.

  Houses in the amphitheatre, a burst of wind and fire through the trees, a dock splintering. More red dust on rooftops.

  When she came back to herself, she was slumped at the base of the tree, Caradoc crouching next to her. “You’re alright now.”

  Jane pressed on her temples to stop the residual throbbing. “What happened?”

  “I busted the lock,” Caradoc replied, straightening.

  “It can’t be that easy.”

  He shrugged. “They see your mark often enough to know if it’s been tampered with.” His voice carried effortlessly, or maybe it was just that everyone was accustomed to listening to him. “Take a walk,” he told the others and they scattered, however reluctantly.

  “I didn’t know they were crazy,” Roarke apologized to Caradoc. “Green Jill here is all thistles and prickles.”

  “Aw,” Saffron bared her teeth. “Thank you.”

  “You have a hell of a way to ask for help.” Caradoc commented.

  Saffron looked slightly abashed. Her words, however, didn’t reflect her sudden awkwardness. “You have hell of a welcome,” she returned.

  He grinned suddenly, and Jane couldn’t help but stare. Her head was empty of omens and electricity, but she still felt this was something worth paying attention to. He climbed the creaky wooden steps to the porch without a backward glance. Saffron looked at Roarke expectantly, but Jane couldn’t stop looking at Caradoc. His smile turned soft, amused.

  “You’re the actual leader, aren’t you?” She asked to cover her foolishness. She didn’t know anything about him really, except that he’d stabbed her.

  Saffron narrowed her eyes, cursed. “Of course you are.”

  Roarke scowled. “Hey.”

  Caradoc propped his boots up on the rail. “I’m a Greencoat, just like the others,” he said. “But it could be I’ve been here the longest.”

  “How did you know about the Numina mark?” Jane asked.

  “My job to know.” He reached into a trunk beside his chair, and pulled out a small red plastic first aid kit. “Bandages in there,” he tossed it to her.

  “I have my own kit,” Jane said reaching into her pocket.

  “Fine,” Caradoc turned his attention to Saffron. “Haven’t had a new Green Jill in a while.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Saffron asked.

  He shrugged. “Just is.”

  “I didn’t ask for this,” Saffron pointed out defensively. “I don’t want it.”

  Caradoc shrugged again. “The mask doesn’t care.”

  “Did you kill the last Jack who wore it?” Roarke asked.

  “No,” she snapped. “I didn’t kill him. He tried to jump the Wall like an idiot.”

  “And now you’re here,” Caradoc said. “We protect Green Jacks. We’ve all sworn oaths, but if you stay, there are still rules. Jill or not.”

  “Like what?” Saffron demanded suspiciously. She was prickly and nervous, like a porcupine. Jane felt more certain now that they were talking rules. She liked to know what was expected of her, and how to stay invisible depended too often on following the rules.

  “Common sense,” Caradoc explained. There were daggers on his belt, in his boots, tucked under his sleeve.

  Saffron eyed him enviously. “Don’t tell me I’m not allowed a weapon.”

  Roarke smirked. “Don’t worry, we’ll protect you.”

  Jane had to hand it to him. In less than a half hour he had figured out exactly how to needle Saffron. But when Caradoc flicked him a mild glance, he subsided. “You can have as many knives as you’d like,” Caradoc assured her.

  “Thank you,” Saffron beamed at him, a bright young smile, not like her usual sarcastic grin.

  “Can you teach her about the leaf mask?” Jane asked quietly. It occurred to her that Saffron would stay, and she would have to go. She had nothing to offer, no reason to be here. She’d run away from home, with no real destination beyond “away”. And now Saffron didn’t need her, not anymore. The pink moon had led her to Saffron but no further. And Caradoc was right to wonder if she was a spy. Why trust her?

  “We can,” Caradoc confirmed. “More importantly the forest will teach her.”

  “Good. May I stay the night? I’ll leave in the morning.” It would give her time to rest, to read the omens, assuming there were any. Maybe she could convince one of the farm domes that she’s been sent as a numina. If they didn’t recognize her from the Garden. She didn’t think they got that many shows up here, even Directorate ones. Or maybe she could live on the edge of the forest instead, staying out of the way. And trying not t
o get blown up. As far as plans went, it clearly needed work.

  “Where would you even go?” Saffron asked. “You’ll get eaten alive out there. Assuming we’re not shacking up with cannibals in here too.”

  “The moon led me to you to keep you safe,” Jane said. “And now you’re safe.”

  “Maybe it led you to me to keep you safe too. Ever think of that? You’re not leaving.” She glowered at Caradoc and Roarke. “She’s not leaving. And she’d not a jacking spy.”

  “I’m not a Jill either,” Jane pointed out. She tried not to flush, embarrassed. “And I’m not a guard.”

  “You’re an Oracle,” Saffron said. “And he doesn’t really think you’re a spy. If he did, he’d have killed you already.”

  Caradoc didn’t correct her.

  “And anyway, your omens already saved me. They can save the others too. ”

  Caradoc inclined his head. “Possibly. You’ll need to control it, now that the eye is closed.”

  She touched the bandage, hope and anxiety swirling in her belly. Saffron looked smug. “So it’s settled. You’re not a spy and you’re not leaving.”

  Caradoc turned away, losing interest. “Take our Jill to the Mother Tree, Roarke. If she survives, they can stay.”