We cross Union Street and head toward the factory district called the Chimney, where most of the city’s poorest citizens, known as Workboots, earn their living. It’s a bleak place, with noisy Cinderstone refineries belching out toxic smoke into the sky, contributing to the thick black cloud that permanently lingers over the city.
The only splash of color comes from the giant digital screens on top of the buildings, which constantly stream the latest news from the government-owned channel, SBN. The monitors flicker, and an attractive blond presenter, February Fields, appears on all the screens across the city, smiling down at us with her plumped-up red lips.
“And now an announcement from your government,” she says.
The footage cuts to a picture of an attractive young boy and girl, both blond and blue eyed. Written below them is the phrase ONE FAITH, ONE RACE, ONE NATION UNDER HIS MIGHTY. Rose has been running these commercials for weeks, in the run-up to the referendum tomorrow. My stomach knots just thinking about it. If we lose the vote, then my people will be trapped behind the Boundary Wall forever. No pressure.
The newsfeed is suddenly interrupted, and my image appears on-screen.
“And now an announcement from your liberators,” a female voice says. It belongs to Juno Jones, lead reporter at Black City News and one of the highest-ranking members of Humans for Unity. We’ve distorted her voice so she can’t be recognized.
Recently, the rebels have been running their own promo spots in retaliation to Purian Rose’s commercials, by hacking into the government feed. The footage is of me walking through the Darkling ghetto—a run-down, diseased shantytown with filth and sewage in the streets. Emaciated Darkling children reach out to me, and I pass them bags of Synth-O-Blood from the Sentry trucks we hijacked last week. The shot changes and now I’m inside a crowded hospital, where medical supplies are being handed out to nurses tending to the Wraths—Darklings infected with the deadly C18-Virus. The promo ends with our slogan: NO FEAR, NO POWER!
The picture returns to the usual government feed.
“So are you all ready for Natalie’s party tonight?” Beetle asks as he leads me up a steep hill overlooking one of the Cinderstone factories.
My fingers find the parcel in my jacket pocket again. “Yeah, I think so.”
“I’ve got all the stuff at the barge. I just need to set it up. She’ll love it.”
“Are you sure? It has to be perfect,” I say.
“Stop stressing, mate.”
At the top of the hill, we meet a young, petite black woman with closely cropped hair, dressed in dull gray overalls like the other factory workers.
“Ash, this is Freya,” Beetle says. “She recently joined us from the Ember Creek branch of Humans for Unity.”
In the past two months we’ve managed to organize fifteen new factions of Humans for Unity around the country, increasing our membership to over five thousand, and it’s growing every day. It’s still a drop in the ocean compared with Purian Rose’s forces, but it’s a promising start.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Phoenix,” Freya says.
“Likewise. Black City’s a long way from Ember Creek,” I say.
“I wanted to be at the heart of the action.”
“So what’s going on?” I ask.
“I’ve been tracking some suspicious activity in the Cinderstone factories,” Freya explains. “I first noticed it happening in Ember Creek, and when I told Roach, she said the same thing was occurring here. So she asked me to investigate.”
I slide a questioning look at Beetle. “Why didn’t I know about this?”
The tips of his ears turn pink. “Roach didn’t want to bother you, bro. She thought you had enough on your plate with the ballot, but I thought you’d like to know.”
“Thanks,” I say. “So what’s this ‘suspicious activity’?”
Freya points toward the factory at the base of the hill. Everything seems pretty standard to me—just workers loading trucks with Cinderstone bricks, the slow-burning fuel that’s used to power factories, trains and streetcars. Then I see them—three men dressed in dark red clothing emerging from the factory. Each of them is over seven feet tall, with heavy brows and reflective, silver eyes. Their heads are shaved, except for a narrow strip of long, fur-like hair down the center of their scalps.
Lupines.
The only people the Darklings hate as much as the Sentry are the Lupines, since they sided with the government during the war. The tallest of the Lupines wears a bloodred leather frock coat and has human teeth woven into his silver hair. He barks some orders at the other two Lupines, then goes back into the factory while they climb into the trucks and drive off.
“They’ve been taking all the shipments to the Mountain Wolf State,” Freya says.
“What’s there that requires so much fuel?” I say. “That shipment alone was enough to power a whole city for a year.”
“I don’t know yet, but I’ve been trying to gain access to the head office, to download the shipment logs,” Freya says. “It’s not easy, though. They’ve got armed guards securing the office, but I’m trying.”
“Do your best. Keep me posted,” I reply.
We leave Freya and head back into the city. Pain throbs at my temples, and I massage them with my fingertips.
“You okay, mate?” Beetle asks as we turn onto City End—the street that runs parallel to the Boundary Wall, which encloses the Darkling ghetto.
I nod. “Just stressed about tomorrow.”
“It’ll be fine.” Beetle checks his watch. “I better head to the barge and get it prepared for tonight.”
Nerves bubble in my stomach again.
“Don’t worry, mate—she’s going to love it,” he says.
Beetle crosses over the streetcar tracks while I continue down City End, not worrying too much about running into any Trackers—the Sentry’s elite military group who hunt and kill rogue Darklings—although I know they’ve been keeping tabs on me. If I turn around now, I’m sure I’ll see one of their goons darting into an alleyway, acting like he wasn’t following me. But it’s no big deal; I can shake them off when I need to.
Since the unrest at my crucifixion, the Sentry government has kept a low profile in the city. Now isn’t the time for the government to be seen wielding its power—“crushing the little man,” as Roach puts it—since it would only add fuel to our fire. That’s something Purian Rose is very concerned about. He told me as much when he paid me an unexpected visit after I was released from the hospital.
The government is still here, though; it’s just they’re working more covertly now. I hear rumors of people tied to the rebellion mysteriously disappearing. There’s no proof the government has been involved, so we can’t do anything about it. But we know. Yet we continue with our underground meetings and pirate radio shows, all in the hopes of gathering the support we need for tomorrow. I honestly have no idea how it’s going to go. All I can do is hope I’ve persuaded enough people to vote against Rose’s Law.
The sound of hooves startles me out of my thoughts. I whip around. Two black horses canter toward me, their footsteps stirring up the ash on the cobblestones. They’re pulling a closed-top carriage, which bobs up and down on the uneven road. I flatten my back against the concrete wall before the vehicle runs me over. It draws to a halt, and a moment later, the door swings open and Sebastian Eden steps out.
He’s dressed in a new version of the Tracker uniform: a black flat cap with a rose emblem on the front, a fitted black military coatee, tight black slacks and matching leather jackboots. With his shaved head, the overall look is more severe than the stylish red-and-black uniform from a few months ago. Pinned to his chest is a rose-shaped silver medal, indicating his high rank in the Tracker squad. His green eyes flash with contempt, an expression that I know is mirrored on my own face. Sebastian used to be Natalie’s bodyguard and boy
friend, and a couple of months ago, he tried to rape her. We got into a fight about it, and it was this incident that sparked the riot that got Gregory Thompson killed and me subsequently arrested and convicted of his murder.
“Get in,” he orders.
I laugh. “Yeah, like I’m going to do that.”
His upper lip twitches, his eyes flicking toward the vehicle. I catch a glimpse of a shadowy figure inside, and the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
“One of my men is standing outside Natalie’s house as we speak,” Sebastian says in a low voice. “So it’s in your best interest to get into the carriage, nipper.”
“If you lay one finger on her, I swear—”
“What?” A cruel smile plays across his lips. “She’ll be dead before you can reach her.”
There’s no way to be certain whether Sebastian is telling the truth or not, but I can’t risk it. I step inside the carriage.
My blood turns to ice when I see who is sitting opposite me.
Purian Rose.
He studies me with cold, gray eyes. Unable to help myself, I shudder. There’s something deeply disturbing about his face, which looks all stretched and waxy. The carriage lists slightly to one side as Sebastian takes the seat next to the driver. Rose taps the roof of the carriage, and the vehicle begins to move. I try to rein in my panic.
“What do you want?” I ask.
“Not even a hello?” he says, amused.
“Hello,” I say. “What do you want?”
He runs his tongue over his top teeth and studies me for a long moment. I fidget in my seat, waiting for him to speak.
“I’ve been keeping a close eye on you, Mr. Fisher,” Rose finally says. “I must confess I admire your tenacity. It’s an admirable quality to keep trying so hard when there’s no hope of success.”
“Um, thanks?” I say. “But I’m guessing you didn’t come all this way to tell me that. So what do you want?”
“Always to the point, aren’t you?”
“It’s one of my many ‘admirable qualities,’” I retort.
He leans forward, and I crush my back into the purple velvet seat.
“What I want, Mr. Fisher, is for you to vote in favor of Rose’s Law tomorrow,” he says.
I laugh. “You’re joking.”
“No, I’m not really one for humor.”
“No kidding,” I mutter. “Why on earth would I do that?”
He smiles. “You might remember, the last time we met, I promised to break you down, piece by piece?”
“I vaguely recall something along those lines.”
“Well, it’s time I acted on that promise,” he says. “If you don’t vote yes tomorrow, then I’m going to take Miss Buchanan.”
My heart stops.
“And let me be clear,” he continues. “I won’t kill her straight away. Instead, my guards will slice bits off her, piece by piece, until she’s begging for death. Do you understand?”
I nod faintly. “Don’t hurt her,” I whisper.
“Now, that depends entirely on you.” He gives me a cold smile. “So, what’s it to be?”
His ultimatum lingers in the space between us.
Natalie or my people?
I look down at my feet.
Her life in exchange for their freedom?
“Think it over, Mr. Fisher,” he says. “I have faith you’ll do the right thing.”
He taps the carriage roof again, and the vehicle shudders to a halt. He opens the door for me, and I step out, the cold air rushing against my skin.
“Good day,” he says, then as an afterthought: “And wish Miss Buchanan a very happy birthday from me. Make sure it’s not her last.”
3.
ASH
PURIAN ROSE’S THREAT rings in my ears as the carriage rides away. As soon as the vehicle rounds the corner, I slump down on the curb, my whole body shaking with adrenaline.
“What I want, Mr. Fisher, is for you to vote in favor of Rose’s Law tomorrow.”
Can I honestly go through with this?
He’ll torture Natalie. I can’t let him do that.
But how can I betray my people? I know my vote alone doesn’t have the power to stop these segregation laws from passing, but people are expecting me to lead the way. If I vote in favor of Rose’s Law, what sort of message does that send? Why should the humans put their necks on the line for the Darklings when the rebellion’s poster boy won’t even do it? We’ll lose the vote, and Purian Rose will have defeated us without even raising a gun.
I consider telling Roach what happened, but immediately scrap that idea. I’m certain she’d advise me to vote against Rose’s Law, despite the risks to Natalie. The rebellion is the only thing that matters to her; she’d sacrifice her own nephew, Beetle, if she thought it was necessary. I admire her dedication to the cause, but not her willingness to allow people to die for it.
I don’t know how long I sit on the curb, but when I eventually stand up, my legs feel numb. I find a pay phone and call Natalie.
“Hello,” she says on the other end of the line.
I shut my eyes, relieved to hear her voice. “Hey.”
“Everything okay?” she says distractedly as Day and her younger brother, MJ, have an argument in the background.
I can’t dump this on her now; it’s her birthday.
“Ash?”
“Everything’s fine,” I say. “Look, I bumped into Sebastian a few minutes ago. There might be a Sentry guard outside your house, so keep an eye out.”
“Yeah, we saw one hanging around earlier, but he’s gone now.”
I press my forehead against the phone booth. So Sebastian wasn’t lying.
“What did he want?” Natalie asks.
“To wish us good luck for tomorrow,” I say.
Natalie laughs. “Sure he did. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ll see you later.”
I hang up and head to the Legion to find out what this “incident” was that Roach needed to tell me about, my footsteps leaden, still undecided about what I’m going to do tomorrow.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, I’m staring at the empty storeroom that was once stocked to the ceiling with military-grade guns and ammunition, which Humans for Unity had stolen from the Sentry. Seems like the government decided to take them back.
“They cleared us out during the night,” Roach says beside me.
She’s wearing a man’s gray shirt tucked into black pants, and scuffed work boots. Her dreadlocks, which have been newly dyed blue, hang down to her trim waist. Next to her is one of the Darkling ministers, Logan. She’s more handsome than beautiful, with startling lilac eyes and rippling black hair. She glances at me with her usual mixture of irritation and guilt. Logan was one of the three judges, known as the Quorum of Three, who oversaw my trial two months ago and sentenced me to death. Something like that tends to strain a working relationship.
“How did the Sentry get into the ghetto undetected?” I say.
Logan and Roach share a knowing look.
“What?” I say.
“We believe it was an inside job,” Logan replies.
“Fragg,” I mutter.
“Suspicious timing, don’t you think?” Roach says. “The public vote is tomorrow and suddenly all our weapons go missing.”
I rake a hand through my hair. How in the hell are we going to run a rebellion without any weapons? I suspect Purian Rose was somehow behind the theft. He must’ve had a spy working for him inside the Legion this whole time. The timing is too neat to be a coincidence.
“Does Sigur know about this?”
“He is speaking with the other ministers now,” Logan replies.
“There’s going to be an inquest,” Roach adds. “But for now, w
e need to watch our backs. I’m going to kill those traitorous bastards when I get my hands on them!”
We leave the empty storeroom, and Logan closes the door.
“Do we have any weapons?” I ask as we walk down the corridor.
“I’ve told the lieutenants to gather what they can,” Roach says. “But we haven’t had much response so far—just some rifles and enough parts to cobble together some bombs.”
“We’re totally screwed, aren’t we?” I say grimly.
“It doesn’t look great,” she admits. “Look, let’s keep this on a need-to-know basis for now. For morale, you know?”
I nod. With the ballot tomorrow, the last thing our supporters need to hear is that we have no means to defend ourselves if we lose the vote and the Sentry come for us. Purian Rose’s threat flashes through my head again. What am I going to do?
The door to Sigur’s office opens and Juno Jones pops her head out. Her fiery red hair has been pulled back into a slick ponytail, and her pale blue eyes are rimmed with Cinderstone powder. She’s wearing a pair of indecently tight black leather pants and a white corset blouse with a ruffled collar.
“I thought I heard your voice,” she says, bundling me into the office. “I need you to shoot some promos for tomorrow.”
Roach and Logan smirk at me as Juno shuts the door.
* * *
“From the top,” Juno says an hour later.
We’ve been recording two speeches to run after tomorrow’s ballot—one a rousing victory speech if things go well, and a second speech if things don’t. They both feel like losing speeches to me, knowing that whatever I choose tomorrow, someone important to me is going to suffer. The question is who?
I shift in my seat, trying to get comfortable, although I’m unbearably hot in my battered Legion Liberation Front jacket. The coat’s been dyed black to match the rest of my uniform, which was carefully put together by the rebel leaders to create the character of Phoenix. The LLF jacket represents the Darkling rebellion, while the black slacks and boots are from my old Tracker uniform. Now, instead of hunting Darklings, I’m “hunting down freedom,” according to one of our slogans anyway.