by Rebecca Grey
"Nilsa," he finally cracks a small smile, "you don't understand."
"Why? Because I'm Human?"
"No, because you've never lived in this. Being here for just this one party before we enter the Games isn't enough for you to see why The Oasis needs saving too. You're here to get the money to save yourself from The Bend, I'm here to save The Oasis from itself." He runs a hand through his hair. "Try having to sit through parties like this every weekend. Trying finding it hard to have anything to celebrate but still be expected to become a drunk swaggering fool like the rest."
"You are a drunk swaggering fool."
"But I don't want to be. That's the point," he tilts his head back and laughs. "Saints, look what they've turned me into. Ah, Nils, I'd hate for The Oasis to get its hands on you and to wipe away the true grit of who you are. I won't let them do it, either. I promise."
"You think I'd let The Oasis change me into one of them?" I point a finger out to the dance floor. Juilliard twirls a girl, making her skirt fan out around her.
Marcello doesn't answer. I don't look at him anyway, I'm certain there’s still some shade of sadness in his gaze, and being here is sad enough. A waiter in pressed black clothes and a white mask stops to offer us the drinks off his tray. Marcello takes two and hands me one, drinking in silence as I look through the dancers and the throngs of people chatting on the outskirts.
A couple parts the dance floor as they spin out and back into each other with steps I'm sure Davison could never have taught me. I bite my lip. Red eyes watch Marcello and I back as I register long blonde hair and the smoothed back brown strands of her partner.
"Is that Sloane and Finnegan?" I blink. "When did... When did you let them in?"
Marcello holds his cup closer, squinting in disbelief of his perfect eyesight. "I didn't." Then he laughs. "But I'm not surprised. Want to join them?" He offers a hand.
"No, no I've had enough dancing for one night."
Juilliard throws his head back, rearing with a chuckle that travels all the way to us as he claps a hand down on Finnegan's shoulder. His lips move but I can't make out what he's saying with the angle of his face.
"Juilliard is as surprised to see them as we are. He told him he thought they'd skipped out at the last minute," Marcello says quietly. "He asked them where they went and how they got in but Finnegan is just saying it's a secret of their trade he can't share." He turns to look at me. "I'm not sure I would want to know the secret if he came right out and said it."
"You invited them to join our team for this very reason, right?" I don't turn my face back to him. Not when I can feel his heat so close. Not when I know if I move just right I can brush my lips against the scruff on his face. My palm tingles with the memory of him pressing my hand to his cheek. Why had he done that?
"That very reason." He nods. "Nilsa?"
"Yes?" I press my back to the wall and give him as much space as the room will allow as I stare up into his gaze.
"Want to get out of here for a little bit? We have to be back by eight, but we aren't missing anything before then."
Do I want to leave this party? Fuck yes. Do I want to get trapped with Marcello so he tells me more sad stories I never wanted to hear? Not at all.
"You have about a minute to decide before your Human lover boy comes back over here and tries to talk to you again. He's been working up the nerve to come over here for the last five minutes," he adds when I hesitate.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Someplace quiet." He looks out the corner of his eye, extending his hand yet again. I stare down at his palm. "Lover-boy is on the move."
My shoulders rise and fall with the anxious beat of my heart as I try to decide between staying or going. This is new territory for me. Being hired to kill is simple. It's doable. Being alone with Marcello is hard, like walking a tightrope. If I make it to the other side I'll have won the Games and this will look trivial but if I fall for his charm and good looks, I'll be crushed when he’s done with me. Eventually, he will be. I'm right now entertainment, a blip in his long lifespan.
Davison appears in my peripheral. This could be the very last night of our lives. I'm already acquainted with Marcello and I'll only moreso be during the game. Davison is another chance to hurt or be disappointed if he does not survive, and for me to win... he can't.
I slap my hand into Marcello's, his fingers curling around my palm instantly. He turns, shooting Davison a devious look as he guides me beside him and out the nearest door. Music and voices become muted when the door closes with a loud thud, leaving us standing in a small lobby before another elevator. A small explosion of excitement erupts inside of me.
Marcello presses one finger in the button that points up. The two clear doors open without a sound and we step inside. He doesn't let go of my hand and my cheeks flush. The elevator rises and the lobby view disappears as we enter a dark shaft. I watch as floors come and go.
"I thought for a moment that you'd let at least the Human in." He sips from his glass.
"Let Davison in where?" I shake my hand free and cup my drink with both hands.
"In through all those walls you put up." He puts his other hand into his pocket, turning to face the doors as the elevator slows. "I guess I understand why you wouldn't. Doesn't feel good to lose people you care about, so if you just don't care about him then it won't hurt if he dies." Marcello finishes his drink and I quickly follow suit. The drink warms my body, starting from the pit of my stomach and working out toward my limbs.
"That's exactly right." The glass doors open to brisk evening air. All I can see is the rise of another building straight ahead. But Marcello is right, it's quiet.
"Is that why you won't let me in?" He steps in between the elevator doors, taking my empty glass out of my hand and setting both glasses on the elevator floor.
"Why would you want to get to know me? Why would I want to get to know you?" I can't help the roll of my eyes. "You sound like some hopeless romantic. Love like that doesn't exist."
"It doesn't exist with the wrong people."
"And you think you're the right person?" A playful annoyance edges my voice. I'm not some here and now girl for him to fall in love with.
"I never said that I plan on falling in love with you." He snickers and motions me forward. When I near, he turns me around and I move stiffly.
"What are you doing?" I hiss.
"Covering your eyes. It's a surprise, you idiot."
His fingers cover up my line of sight and I squeeze my eyes shut. My back presses into his chest, my heels scrape the ground as I shuffle each step to go where he leads.
"Call this a trust exercise," he says softly, and I know his mouth is close to my ear.
"I don't trust you," I say just as quietly back.
"That's why you have to practice now, before the game starts tomorrow."
Wind whistles through buildings. I expect the same painful cold wind like The Bend would provide, but the breeze only carries the slightest nip of a chill against my exposed leg. My fingers lightly hold Marcello's arms over my eyes so I can cling to him should he try to throw me over the edge of the building.
"Why do I get the feeling that you fall in love with women every night and then fall out of love in the morning when you wake up?" I ask, my mouth lifting in a smirk.
Marcello chuckles under his breath. "After Lily, I've never loved again."
"I find that hard to believe." He tugs me to a stop.
"I've had my share of women, don't get me wrong. But love is a strong word I wouldn't use so frivolously." His chest heats my back, with no air between us. "I'm going to remove my hands in… three... two... one."
The moment his hands lift from my face I snap my eyes open. My next inhale catches in my throat. There is nothing but gray in the cloud filled sky. But lights twinkle like stars as far as the eye can see. Different shades of yellow, white and occasionally additional colors of red or green flash somewhere on the paved streets.
He steps back, walking calmly to my side as I stare out at the city. The building next to us blocks our view to the left, but that doesn't matter when I can see everything else. The whole world is laid out at our fingertips. Everything I've lived without is within arm’s reach.
"I know you've never seen the city before so I thought I'd give you the chance, before..." he trails off with a sigh.
"Before there is a chance for me to die." I finish for him. On a shaking breath, I finally admit, "I've seen The Oasis before. But not like this."
"I know."
It's hard for me to turn my gaze away as I try my best to memorize the streets and shops surrounding us. My lips press together tightly. "What do you think that you know?"
"I know that you climbed the wall between The Bend and The Oasis. I know you killed a guard and wandered the streets for a few hours before you climbed back over." He lowers to lean against his palms on the stone edge of the building. "My father had sent me to speak with some guards on behalf of the king."
"I don't believe you. You didn't try to stop me? Didn't try to kill me?"
"I was curious."
Grinding my teeth, I gather my hair off my shoulders and push it behind me. I truck the braid behind my ear and close my eyes as the distant sounds of life carry up to us and the evening breeze trails over my skin like a lover’s caress.
Marcello clears his throat and continues, "I took it upon myself to follow you for a while until I knew you were back where you belonged. Then I doubled the guard on the wall, but you never returned. It's not like you did anything other than stare at the houses and peak in some windows."
Even my neck heats as red tints my skin. "How do you know that was me?"
"I didn't, until I saw your face inside of Genovese's bar."
My mind races back to that night over the wall. When had I shown my face? When had I let my guard down? I clasp my hands together, holding impossibly still. The memory comes crashing down on me with a miserable embarrassment. I had removed my hood...
There had been a house on the corner of a block with a swing rocking on its porch. No one had noticed when I'd crawled up on it and sat for a while to think. Whomever had lived there hadn't felt any need to make sure their house was protected. Didn't bother to threaten me if I didn't get off their porch. I sat there to mourn. For what I wasn't exactly sure, but the tears came until they dripped off my chin and onto the collar of my shirt. My cloak had felt suffocating. So I took my hood off.
Fuck.
"I hate that." I grind out.
"You hate that someone saw you and you didn't know you were being watched."
"Yes."
Whatever I'd drank earlier turns in my stomach now. I press a hand to my abdomen, as if that will hold the nausea in. It stains the perfect view of this city with the worst of feelings.
"If I knew you were taking me away from the party to embarrass me," I swallow. "I would have taken my chances with Davison."
"I don't mean for it to be embarrassing, love" He tilts his head, the light shining off his eyes.
All I can do is shake my head. I distract myself with following every turn of the streets that I can see. Trying to memorize which buildings are where in comparison to where we currently stand, in case I need it.
"It was the scar, if you're curious." He adds. "That's how I recognized you."
The top of the scar starts before my nose ends on my cheek, crossing over my lips, and ending near my chin. It makes my smiles feel tight when the skin stretches. And even then, a smile like that could never make me look anything other than broken. At least my appearance is honest.
"Marcello, what do you want from me? Why don't you run away from me like everyone else?" I turn away from the buildings so I can see his expression as he answers my question. "What do you know?"
Something flashes in his expression, but with a trained precision he hides it so quickly I can't read it. "The only thing I want from you is to have you on my team, Nilsa. And here you are."
“Is that all you want?” I reply. My heart hammers in my chest in anticipation. I shouldn’t have asked it, I shouldn’t be holding on to this tiny piece of hope that Marcello inspires inside of me. I’m wrong for it.
“Well, maybe I would like a dance under the stars.” He tilts his head, watching me with a serious expression.
Maybe he could want for more and I would let him. I would give him exactly whatever it is.
Confidence smooths its way into my blood along with the sugar and alcohol making it easier for me to turn toward him. I hold out my hand, tempting a smile. “There isn’t any music.”
His bright eyes widen. I try to hide the way my body trembles when he slips his fingers over mine and pulls me against him. The one hand intertwines with mine while the other rests where the back of my dress dips as he draws small circles with his thumb.
Marcello leans his face into mine. My eyes flutter closed as his lips move to my ear. A slow melody of a song hums against my face as he sings quietly. His voice is as melodic as I thought it would be, a deep sound that could entice nearly anyone.
The fabric of my dress is thin enough that I can feel the hard press of his body and the shape of his belt buckle against me. He turns us slowly, keeping the steps simple as I shuffle with him. He sings, although the song is in another language, I’m certain it’s about undressing a lover.
Pulling away from my ear, his nose draws a line across my cheekbone until his forehead presses against mine. His lips brush my mouth with every word. I’m hardly breathing while being held in his arms. I allow myself one second before I burst the bubble of this beautiful dream. I open my eyes and gaze up at him. He straightens, but only slightly.
Marcello holds me as if I’m fragile. His hands hover, he isn’t truly gripping me. No man has ever held me with such tenderness before. But I’m the sort of girl that if you don’t hold onto me tightly, I’m bound to slip away. His steps slow further, as if he recognizes that I’m about to let him go. He looks over his shoulder toward the elevator. "We need to head back soon."
I don’t want to. We need to though.
He kicks his feet at the ground, shuffling the small bits of rock on the rooftop and dropping his hands. The softness of his touch in mine disappears but leaves behind a more noticeable heat. He heads for the elevator without another word. I pick up the bottom of my dress and follow him with one last look at the city. The doors shift open and he sticks an arm out letting me walk in front of him. My heels click inside the elevator as I glare back at him.
"Marcello," I say as he enters the elevator and stands beside me.
"Nilsa?" he arches a brow.
"I don't think we should be alone together anymore." I blurt out. For my own good. It's the best thank you I can give him, the only kind of thank you I can physically make myself say.
"Why is that?"
"So it hurts less when you die." I breathe and look up to him with a smile.
He grins back. "Be gentle with me when you take my life after all of this."
"I make no promises." The doors click shut and we stand with the shadows of our smiles still on our cheeks. When the doors open again I can hear the chatter of partygoers, but all music has stopped. My eyes open wide and I look to Marcello.
He walks ahead of me, looking behind him to make sure that I'm following. I catch up quickly, curious as to what exactly could have put the party on pause in any sort of way. There is still cheering and talking, so it certainly can't be anything that crazy.
"What exactly is happening at eight o'clock that we had to be back for?" I match his pace as he reaches for the door.
"Oh," he says in a dull sarcastic tone, "if I told you then that would ruin all of the fun."
"You sound so enthused." I sigh and follow him back into the room.
Everything is as it was, but where the band sits and plays, another man has joined with a silver sparkling microphone. The crowd is parted into groups, or teams at it would seem, and my eyes instantly s
earch out Juilliard and the rest.
Marcello points through the gathering teams to where ours waits. We pass by Mavi and Davison standing in their group, all smirking as they fix their alcohol splattered suits and comb back their hair. This is the first we've been able to see what we are up against. I take it all in with greedy need and a deeply curious desire to survive.
Davison's group is all six males. Mavi stands in the middle of the group, preening the most. He smooths his already straight hair. Both the men's eyes linger on us as we pass. I keep my attention fixed forward, not caring to even acknowledge the both challenging and pitiful looks we get.
I wonder what they see when we approach, standing so close to one another. Is the tension in the air palpable to them as well? I can still feel the impression of Marcello’s hand on my back. Can they see the way his touch has made my thoughts feel flustered? Watching the rest of the room, I challenge any eyes that dare to land on me.
I know even less about the other groups, and I'm quick to realize I've wasted valuable time on the damn rooftop when I should have been collecting information on our opponents. I'm swept into this perfect Oasis land and suddenly forget to use my head? My years and years of training?
Am I sorry though? No, not really. Not truly.
Near our small group, who watch us approach quietly with deep curiosity, another group is made almost mainly of women with the exception of one burly male with dark haunting eyes and hooves for feet. The other teams are mixes of Hybrids similar to ours. Most everyone looks to the stage with the gleam of hungry hope in their eyes.
"Where were you two?" Juilliard whispers when we come to a stop next to him.
"Needed a breather," Marcello adjusts his jacket and stands with a perfect posture. He ignores Juilliard's inquisitive look. "What did we miss?"
"I shouldn't be surprised." He glances at me, less inquisitive, more annoyed. "We're getting ready for the betting."
"Bettin—" I start to ask but the wall behind the musicians groans and lifts up from the floor.
The man at the band raises the microphone to his slender lips and grins. "Welcome teams to The Oasis Games! Please enter the arena!"