He’d taken care not to speak while the jabberjay was recording so as not to incriminate himself in any way. But Dr. Gaul would get the reference to the arena, and she would understand the taping had been intentional. If he sent the bird to the Citadel, she could decide how best to handle the matter. Probably she’d put in a call to Strabo Plinth, discharge Sejanus, and send him home before he did any damage. Yes, that would be best for everybody. He dropped the remote into the bin of bird supplies. If all went well, Sejanus Plinth would be out of his hair in a matter of days.
The calm proved short-lived. Coriolanus awoke after a few hours’ sleep from a terrible dream. He’d been in the stands of the arena, looking down at Sejanus, who knelt beside Marcus’s wrecked body. He was sprinkling it with bread crumbs, unaware that a multicolored army of snakes was closing in on him from all sides. Coriolanus screamed at him over and over, to get up, to run, but Sejanus didn’t seem to hear. When the snakes reached him, he had plenty of screaming of his own to do.
Guilt-ridden and slick with sweat, Coriolanus realized he had not thought through the ramifications of sending the jabberjay. Sejanus could be in real trouble. He leaned over the side of his bunk and was reassured for a moment by the sight of Sejanus sleeping peacefully across the barrack from him. He was over-reacting. Most likely, the scientists would never even hear the recording, let alone pass it on to Dr. Gaul. Why would they bother to put the bird on play? There was no reason to, really. The jabberjays had been tested at the hangar already. It had been a questionable act, but it would not result in Sejanus’s death, by snakes or otherwise.
That thought soothed him until he realized that, in that case, he was back to square one and in great danger for knowing about the rebel plan. Lil’s rescue, the escape, even the weak spot in the fence behind the generator weighed on him. That chink in the Capitol armor. The whole idea of the rebels having secret access to the base. It frightened and infuriated him. This breaking of the contract. This invitation to chaos and all that could follow. Didn’t these people understand that the whole system would collapse without the Capitol’s control? That they all might as well run away to the north and live like animals, because that’s what they’d be reduced to?
It made him hope the jabberjay delivered its message after all. But if the Capitol officials did, by chance, hear Sejanus’s confession, what would they do to him? Would buying rebel guns to use against the Peacekeepers be cause for execution? No, wait, he hadn’t recorded anything about the illegal guns. Only the part about Sejanus stealing the Peacekeeper’s . . . but that was bad enough.
Maybe he was doing Sejanus a favor. If they caught him before he had a chance to act, maybe he could get prison time instead of a more severe sentence. Or, most likely, Old Plinth would buy him out of whatever trouble he faced. Foot the bill for a new base for District 12. Sejanus would get kicked out of the Peacekeepers, which would make him happy, and probably end up with a desk job in his father’s munitions empire, which would not. Miserable, but alive. And, most importantly, someone else’s problem.
Sleep evaded Coriolanus for the rest of the night, and his thoughts turned to Lucy Gray. What would she think about him if she knew what he’d done to Sejanus? She’d hate him, of course. Her and her love of freedom for the mockingjays, for the jabberjays, for the Covey, for everybody. She’d probably support Sejanus’s escape plan entirely, especially since she’d been locked in the arena herself. He’d be a Capitol monster, and she’d run back to Billy Taupe, taking with her what little happiness he had left.
In the morning, he climbed down from his bunk tired and irritable. The scientists had flown home to the Capitol the night before, leaving his squad to its dull routines. He dragged through the day, trying not to think about how, in a couple of weeks, he should be starting an education at the University with a full ride. Choosing his classes. Touring the campus. Buying his books. As to the Sejanus dilemma, he’d accepted that no one would ever hear the jabberjay’s dispatch, and he should just corner him and throttle some sense into him. Threaten to report him to both the commander and his father and carry through on that threat if he persisted. He’d had enough of the whole idiotic thing. Unfortunately, the day offered no opportunity to present his ultimatum.
To make matters worse, Friday brought a letter from Tigris, chock-full of bad news. Prospective buyers and a lot of nosy people had been touring the Snows’ apartment. They’d received two offers, both far below the amount they’d need to move to the most modest apartments Tigris had seen. The visitors distressed the Grandma’am, who camped among her rosebushes in a great show of denial when they appeared. However, she overheard one couple, who were inspecting the roof, discussing how they could replace her beloved garden with a goldfish pond. The idea that the roses, the very symbol of the Snow dynasty, were to be demolished precipitated her downward spiral into even greater agitation and confusion. It was worrisome to leave her alone now. Tigris was at her wit’s end and asking for advice, but what advice could he give? He had failed them in every possible way and could think of no road out of their despair. Anger, impotence, humiliation — those were all he had to offer.
By Saturday, he almost looked forward to confronting Sejanus. He hoped it would come to blows. Someone should pay for the indignities of the Snow family, and who better than a Plinth?
Smiley, Bug, and Beanpole were as eager to go to the Hob as ever, although they were getting tired of spending Sundays recuperating. As they dressed for the evening out, the bunkmates decided to forgo the white liquor for some fermented apple cider, which didn’t pack as much punch but still gave the drinker a nice buzz. The question was academic for Coriolanus, who had no intention of imbibing at all. He wanted a clear head when he dealt with Sejanus.
As they were leaving the barracks, they got roped into an extra detail by Cookie, and spent half an hour unloading a hovercraft full of crates. “You’ll be glad about it next weekend. Commander’s birthday party,” he said, and slipped them a quart bottle of what turned out to be cheap whiskey. It was a big improvement over the local brew.
When they arrived at the Hob, they barely had time to grab some crates and squeeze into a spot against the back wall before Maude Ivory danced onstage to introduce the Covey. Not great seats, but between Cookie’s whiskey and the fact that they could enjoy some of Ma’s treats instead of trading them, no one felt the need to complain, although Coriolanus privately regretted missing his time with Lucy Gray in the shed. He placed his crate practically on top of Sejanus’s so he would know if he tried to disappear again. Sure enough, about an hour into the show, he felt Sejanus rise and watched him move off toward the main door. Coriolanus counted to ten before he followed, trying to attract as little attention as possible, but they were near the exit and no one seemed to notice.
Lucy Gray began a downbeat number, and the Covey played mournfully behind her.
You come home late,
Fall on your cot.
You smell like something that money bought.
We don’t have cash, or so you say.
So where did you get it and how’d you pay?
The sun don’t rise and set for you.
You think so, but you’re wrong.
You tell me lies, I can’t stay true —
I’ll sell you for a song.
The song grated on him. It sounded like another Billy Taupe–inspired number. Why didn’t she write something about him instead of dwelling on that nobody? He was the one who’d saved her life after Billy Taupe had bought her a ticket to the arena.
Coriolanus stepped outside just in time to see Sejanus rounding the corner of the Hob. Lucy Gray’s voice poured out into the night air as he skirted along the side of the building.
You get up late,
Won’t say a word.
You been with her, that’s what I’ve heard.
I don’t own you, so I’ve been told.
But
what do I do when the nights get cold?
The moon don’t wane and wax for you.
You think so, but you’re wrong.
You cause me pain, you make me blue —
I’ll sell you for a song.
Coriolanus paused in the shadows at the back of the Hob as he watched Sejanus hurry through the open door of the shed. All five of the Covey were onstage, so who would he be looking for? Was this a prearranged meeting with the rebels to lock down their escape plans? He had no desire to walk in on a whole nest of them, and he had just resolved to wait it out, when the woman from the Hob, the one Sejanus had supposedly seen about the pocketknife, came out the door stuffing a wad of bills into her pocket. She disappeared down an alley, leaving the Hob behind.
So that was it. Sejanus had come to give her money for weapons, most likely those guns he was planning to hunt with in the north. This seemed as good a time as any to confront him, while the contraband was still hot in his hands. He crept over to the shed, not wanting to startle Sejanus if he was handling a gun, his footsteps masked by the music.
You’re here, you’re not.
It’s more than me,
It’s more than you, it’s more like we.
They’re young and soft, they worry so.
You coming or going, they need to know.
The stars don’t shine and shoot for you.
You think so, but you’re wrong.
You mess with mine, I’ll hurt you, too —
I’ll sell you for a song.
During the applause that followed, Coriolanus peered around the shed’s open doorway. The only light came from a small lantern, the type he’d seen some of the coal miners holding at Arlo’s hanging, positioned on a crate in the back of the shed. In its glow, he could make out Sejanus and Billy Taupe crouched over a burlap sack, out of which protruded several weapons. As he took a step in, he froze, suddenly aware of the barrel of a shotgun positioned inches from the side of his rib cage.
He drew in his breath and was beginning to raise his hands slowly when he heard the quick tap of shoes behind him and Lucy Gray’s laughter. Her hands landed on his shoulders with a “Hey! Saw you slip out. Barb Azure said if you —” Then she tensed, aware of the gunman.
“Inside” was all he said. Coriolanus moved toward the lamp with Lucy Gray holding tightly to his arm. He heard the cinder block scrape on the cement floor and the door shut behind them.
Sejanus leaped to his feet. “No. It’s all right, Spruce. He’s with me. They’re both with me.”
Spruce moved into the lamplight. Coriolanus recognized him as the man who had restrained Lil the day of the hanging. The brother Sejanus had mentioned, no doubt.
The rebel looked them over. “Thought we agreed this was between us.”
“He’s like my brother,” said Sejanus. “He’ll cover for me when we run. Buy us more time.”
Coriolanus had promised to do no such thing, but he nodded.
Spruce redirected his barrel to Lucy Gray. “What about this one?”
“I told you about her,” said Billy Taupe. “She’s going north with us. She’s my girl.”
Coriolanus could feel Lucy Gray clench his arm, then drop it. “If you’ll take me,” she said.
“You two aren’t together?” said Spruce, his gray eyes moving from Coriolanus to Lucy Gray. Coriolanus had been wondering this as well. Was she really going with Billy Taupe? Had she been using him, as he’d suspected?
“He’s seeing my cousin. Barb Azure. She sent me to tell him where to meet up tonight is all,” said Lucy Gray.
So she’d just lied to defuse the moment. Was that it? Still unsure, Coriolanus played along. “That’s right.”
Spruce considered it, then shrugged and lowered the gun, releasing Lucy Gray from its hold. “I guess you’ll be company for Lil.”
Coriolanus’s eyes fell to the cache of weapons. Two more shotguns, a standard Peacekeeper rifle like the ones they used in target practice. Some sort of heavy piece that appeared to launch grenades. Several knives. “That’s quite a haul.”
“Not for five people,” Spruce replied. “It’s the ammo I’m concerned about. Be helpful if you could get us some more of that from the base.”
Sejanus nodded. “Maybe. We don’t really have access to the armory. But I can look around.”
“Sure. Stock up.”
Everyone’s head snapped toward the sound. A female voice, coming from the far corner of the shed. Coriolanus had forgotten about the second door, since no one ever seemed to use it. In the pitch-blackness outside the lamp’s circle of light, he could not say if it was open or shut, or make out the intruder. How long had she been hiding there in the gloom?
“Who’s there?” said Spruce.
“Guns, ammo,” mocked the voice. “You can’t make more of that, can you? Up north?”
The nastiness helped Coriolanus place it from the night of the brawl in the Hob. “It’s Mayfair Lipp, the mayor’s daughter.”
“Trailing after Billy Taupe like a hound in heat,” said Lucy Gray under her breath.
“Always keep that last bullet somewhere safe. So as you can blow your brains out before they catch you,” said Mayfair.
“Get home,” ordered Billy Taupe. “I’ll explain this later. It’s not how it sounded.”
“No, no. Come in and join us, Mayfair,” invited Spruce. “We’ve got no quarrel with you. You can’t choose your pa.”
“We won’t hurt you,” said Sejanus.
Mayfair gave an ugly laugh. “’Course you won’t.”
“What’s going on?” Spruce asked Billy Taupe.
“Nothing. She’s just talking,” he said. “She won’t do anything.”
“That’s me. All talk, no action. Right, Lucy Gray? How’d you enjoy the Capitol, by the way?” The door gave a small creak, and Coriolanus had the sense Mayfair was backing away, about to flee. With her would go his entire future. No, more than that, his very life. If she reported what she’d heard, the whole lot of them would be as good as dead.
In a flash, Spruce lifted his shotgun to shoot her, but Billy Taupe knocked the barrel toward the floor. Coriolanus reflexively reached for the Peacekeeper rifle and fired toward Mayfair’s voice. She gave a cry, and there was the sound of her collapsing to the floor.
“Mayfair!” Billy Taupe bolted across the shed to where she lay in the doorway. He staggered back into the light, his hand shiny with blood, spitting at Coriolanus like a rabid animal. “What’d you do?”
Lucy Gray began to shake, the way she had in the zoo when Arachne Crane’s throat had been slit.
Coriolanus gave her a push, and her feet started moving toward the door. “Go back. Get onstage. That’s your alibi. Go!”
“Oh, no. If I swing, she’s swinging with me!” Billy Taupe charged after her.
Without hesitating, Spruce shot Billy Taupe through the chest. The blast carried him backward, and he crumpled to the floor.
In the stillness that followed, Coriolanus registered the music coming from the Hob for the first time since Lucy Gray had finished her number. Maude Ivory had the entire warehouse caught up in a sing-along.
Keep on the sunny side, always the sunny side,
“You better do like he said,” Spruce told Lucy Gray. “Before they miss you and someone comes looking.”
Keep on the sunny side of life.
Lucy Gray couldn’t take her eyes off Billy Taupe’s body. Coriolanus grabbed her by the shoulders, forcing her to look at him. “Go. I’ll take care of this.” He propelled her to the door.
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way,
She opened it, and they both looked out. The coast was clear.
If we keep on the sunny side of life.
Yessir, keep on the sunny side of life.
The whole Hob b
roke into drunken cheers, signifying the end of Maude Ivory’s song. They were just in time. “You were never here,” Coriolanus whispered in Lucy Gray’s ear as he let her go. She stumbled across the pavement and into the Hob. He slid the door shut with his foot.
Sejanus checked Billy Taupe’s pulse.
Spruce stuffed the weapons back into the burlap bag. “Don’t bother. They’re dead. I’m planning to keep this to myself. What about you two?”
“The same. Obviously,” said Coriolanus. Sejanus stared at them, still in shock. “Him, too. I’ll make sure.”
“You might think about coming with us. Someone’s going to pay for this,” said Spruce. He retrieved the lamp and vanished out the back door, throwing the shed into darkness.
Coriolanus fumbled forward until he found Sejanus and pulled him out after Spruce. He forced Mayfair’s body into the shed with his boot and firmly closed the door on the murder scene with his shoulder. There. He’d successfully made it in and out of the shed without touching anything with his skin. Except the gun he’d killed Mayfair with, of course, no doubt covered in his fingerprints and DNA — but Spruce would take that when he left District 12, never to return. The last thing he needed was a repeat of the handkerchief scenario. He could still hear Dean Highbottom taunting him. . . .
“Do you hear that, Coriolanus? It’s the sound of Snow falling.”
For a moment he inhaled the night air. Music, some sort of instrumental piece, floated over to them. He guessed Lucy Gray had made it onto the stage but had not yet reclaimed her voice. Grabbing Sejanus by the elbow, he steered him around the shed and checked the passage between the buildings. Empty. He hurried them down the side of the Hob, pausing before they turned the corner. “Not a word,” he hissed.
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Page 42