Our cameraman and technician, Stuart—a gangly man with spiky brown hair—fiddles about with the sound levels while Juno’s younger sister, Amy, hurries over to me to redo my makeup. This is another thing putting me in a bad mood. They’ve painted a band of Cinderstone powder down the bridge of my nose and around my eyes, so I look more “phoenixy,” in Juno’s words. She thought it would make me easier to identify when we do the crowd shots. In fairness to Amy, she’s done a good job, but I still hate it.
She blushes as she dabs more Cinderstone powder onto my face, her fingers light and warm. She’s a year younger than me, and I vaguely remember seeing her around school—when we used to attend it. We haven’t been in months, since joining the rebellion. But our parents tutor us whenever they can so we don’t fall too far behind in our education. Amy looks like Juno, with the same auburn hair and pale, freckled skin. On her wrist is a tattoo of a burning black flower, dubbed the Cinder Rose, which has become the symbol of the rebellion. Beetle came up with the design. The color represents Black City, while the burning rose signifies our destruction of the Sentry government . . . or something. I sort of stopped listening when Beetle explained it to me.
“You’re doing much better,” Amy says.
“I suck,” I say, adjusting my microphone. “Don’t tell your sister, but I much prefer doing the promos with James and Hilary on Firebird radio. At least I don’t have to wear makeup.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Amy says, smiling.
Before we can carry on filming, Sigur sweeps into the room, his ice-white hair flowing around his shoulders. He’s wearing loose purple robes that conceal his fragile wings. One of his eyes is milky white, where he was blinded, while the other glimmers orange.
“Excuse me, but I have some important business to discuss with Ash,” he says.
Juno tries to stifle her frustration. “Okay, let’s call it a day. I think I’ve got enough footage to cobble something together, although I can’t guarantee it’ll be any good.”
“I’m certain it will be a masterpiece, as always,” Sigur says. “What would we do without you, Juno?”
“I’m only in it for the fame and glory, you know,” she replies.
It’s hard to tell if she’s joking or not. She’s never hidden the fact that she wants to be a lead anchor on the national news one day. But I know she still feels terrible for the role she played in my court case—it was her film footage that got me wrongly convicted of Gregory’s murder, after all. I think this is her way of making it up to me.
I follow Sigur into the hallway, grateful for the chance to escape.
“So what did you need to talk about?” I say, wiping the Cinderstone powder off my face. “Do you have an update on the break-in?”
“No, we are still questioning people,” Sigur says. “I just sensed you needed rescuing.”
I grin. “Thanks.”
“I do have something I want to show you, though,” he says as we head down a flight of metal stairs and enter a large circular hall in the center of the cave.
Sigur’s headquarters are located in the nocturnal animals section of the old Black City Zoo. It’s perfect, really: dark, secure, with ready-made staff offices to work in and former animal enclosures to sleep in. Of course, my mom made the place really homey when she used to live here, so it doesn’t feel like a zoo anymore.
We wander through a network of corridors before reaching Sigur’s private suite. The sprawling room is painted red and lavishly furnished with antiques, which Sigur salvaged from Sentry mansions during the war. The majority of the suite is set up like a living room, with elegant sofas and chairs surrounding a fireplace, while a large bed takes up the rest of the space. On the right side of the bed is a small nightstand with a jewelry box, a pottery urn, and a bronze hairbrush. Strands of long, dark hair cling to the bristles. Grief spills over me, knowing they’re my mom’s.
“I miss her,” I say quietly.
“As do I,” he replies, walking over to the nightstand and picking up the urn that contains my mom’s dual heart. It’s tradition for Darklings to harvest their Blood Mate’s heart after they die to keep as a memento. “Life feels very empty without her.”
I can’t imagine what it must be like to lose your Blood Mate. Purian Rose’s threat flashes through my mind again. What am I going to do? How can I possibly choose between Natalie and my people? Would it be so bad if we lost the vote? Sure, the Darklings would be trapped in the ghetto, but at least they’d be alive. Natalie will die for certain if I don’t do this. She’s my Blood Mate; Sigur will understand. If I truly believe that, then why haven’t I told him about Rose’s ultimatum?
Sigur places the urn back on the nightstand and takes out a photograph from the drawer, and hands it to me.
It’s a picture of my mom and her family, taken when she was about ten years old. I smile. For the past few weeks, Sigur has been helping me build up a picture of my Darkling family, finding photos and letters that they sent to friends before the war. I study the picture. The photo seems to have been taken in a forest glen. Peeping through the gaps in the trees is the blurry outline of a mountain with a sharp, talon-shaped peak. I flip the photo over. Scrawled on the back is The Coombs, Forest of Shadows, Amber Hills.
“Are these my grandparents?” I ask, pointing to a young couple standing beside Mom.
“Yes, their names were Paolo and Maria Coombs. And that’s your aunt Lucinda.” He indicates a younger Darkling girl who looks a lot like my mom, except with a round face and shorter hair.
“Who’s this?” I say, referring to the stern-looking man with a purple heart-shaped birthmark on his left cheek, standing beside Paolo.
“I don’t know. Your mother rarely spoke of her family,” he explains, taking out an old leather journal from the nightstand and passing it to me. “But this might help. It’s your mother’s diary. I found it hidden among her belongings.”
“Have you read it?”
“No, it didn’t feel right,” he says. “However, I am certain she wouldn’t mind if you read it.”
I flip through the pages, scanning her large, loopy writing, which looks a lot like mine. A photo slips out from between the sheets and falls to the floor. I pick it up. It shows my mom when she was in her late teens. She’s with Aunt Lucinda and two other girls inside a run-down tavern. One of the girls is wearing a hooded cape, and is exotically beautiful with full scarlet lips, bronzed skin and topaz eyes. She’s perched on the armrest of the second girl’s wheelchair. This girl is pretty in an ethereal way, with wide green eyes and wispy blond hair. She’s dressed in a barmaid outfit, so I’m guessing her parents own the tavern, since they tend to be staffed by family members. Neatly written on the back of the photo is the caption T4K. Thrace.
The sound of yelling rings up through the floorboards. It’s Roach and Logan. Concerned, I quickly tuck the photos back into the diary, and we head down to the main entrance. The moment we arrive, I know something is terribly wrong. A group of Darklings have surrounded something on the stone floor, and several rebels are running about, shouting orders at each other. I catch sight of Roach and Logan in the crowd of people.
“That creature should not be here! Who let him in?” Logan demands.
“Someone get a medic!” Roach yells.
Freya is lying on the floor, her dark skin glistening with blood. Air rasps out of her lips as she struggles to breathe, her black eyes wild and panicked. Her chest and stomach have been slashed open, revealing her guts, which are being held in by the man—the Lupine—crouched next to her.
He’s powerfully built, in his late twenties, with a heavy brow hooding steel-colored eyes and a strip of mottled gray hair down the center of his shaved head. Even though he’s crouching, it’s clear he’s tall—at least seven feet. He’s wearing a smoky-gray-colored tailcoat, black leather trousers and steel-capped boots. I understand why Logan is
so furious. A Lupine has no right to be here.
I rush to Freya’s side, taking her hand. “What happened?” I demand.
“I found her at the Cinderstone plant,” the Lupine says. “The guards caught her breaking into the head office.”
A weight drops in my stomach. She warned me it was heavily guarded.
“And what were you doing at the factory?” Sigur asks the Lupine, clearly suspicious.
“She wasn’t the only person there gathering information,” he replies gruffly. “I was downloading some files from their computers when this stupid girl barged in and nearly ruined everything.”
My fangs throb. “Don’t call her stupid.”
Freya turns her frantic gaze on me and tries to say something, but blood just bubbles out of her lips. Whatever she needed to say evaporates with her last, rasping breath. Her eyes glaze over.
Roach tells the rebels to take Freya’s body to the morgue. When she’s been carried away, the Lupine stands up, wiping a bloodstained hand on his pants leg before stretching it out to Sigur.
“Rafe Garrick, First Landing pack leader,” he says.
Sigur ignores it. “Thank you for bringing Freya back to us, Mr. Garrick. Logan will escort you—”
“I think you’ll want to see this,” Garrick interrupts, taking out a shimmering blue flash drive from his pocket.
“What’s on it?” I ask.
“Schematics for a new super-ghetto in the Mountain Wolf State,” Garrick replies.
“Why has Purian Rose built a new ghetto?” I say.
“Because when he wins the vote tomorrow, he plans to ship the Darklings there,” Garrick says. “And once you’ve been rounded up, he intends to kill you all.”
4.
ASH
THIRTY MINUTES LATER, all the Darkling ministers and rebels have congregated in the Assembly—the oval chamber where our political discussions take place. Logan shifts uncomfortably in the seat beside me, her cool lilac eyes fixed on Garrick. Sitting next to her are two Darkling ministers. The first is a man named Pullo—a gruff-looking Eloka Darkling, with ebony hair and glimmering black eyes, like mine. Next to him is Angel, a Shu-Zin Darkling, with purple eyes, dark hair and clawed feet, which she’s squeezed into a pair of dainty heels. Pullo and Angel occasionally throw cold glances in my direction, barely able to hide their contempt for me. Not all the Darklings appreciate a twin-blood being on their sacred Assembly.
Garrick inserts the flash drive into the com-desk—a large touch-screen computer inset into a table—and everyone falls silent as an image of five Lupines—three men and two women—appears on the digital screen on the back wall. I recognize one of the men. He’s the Lupine I saw at the factory with the red leather frock coat and hair ornaments made of teeth.
“I got a tip that a gang of mercenary Lupines, known as the Moondogs, had been transporting large quantities of Cinderstone out of Black City on behalf of the Sentry government,” Garrick says. “I got suspicious. What was the government doing? It couldn’t be anything legit if those gangsters were involved.”
“We had the same concerns. That’s why I sent Freya to investigate,” Roach says.
“My pack infiltrated the factory by posing as fellow Moondogs, and I managed to gain access to the head office.” He presses a button on the com-desk, and the Cinderstone shipments log appears on the digital screen on the back wall. “You’ll notice that the name Mount Alba crops up time and time again.”
“The volcano?” Logan says. “But that area has been deserted for decades, ever since Mount Alba erupted.”
“Precisely,” Garrick says. “So I hacked into the Sentry network to find out why they were sending so many shipments to a volcano. This is what I found.”
The image on the digital screen shifts, to zoom in closer to a mountainous terrain within the United Sentry States. I instantly spot the volcano, with its familiar flat peak—it lost its top after the eruption thirty years ago. At its base is a sprawling urban area enclosed by a wall just like the one surrounding the Legion ghetto, but on a much larger scale. Written in block letters across the urban area are the words THE TENTH.
“It’s the size of a small state!” I say.
“Why do you think they called it the Tenth?” Garrick says.
“Because it’s the tenth state,” I reply, cottoning on.
He nods. “Really it’s more a state-within-a-state, but the name is sort of catchy.”
“This isn’t evidence the government plans to exterminate us,” Pullo says in a brusque voice.
“I agree,” Angel chimes in. “It’s just a ghetto. It’s no different from the Legion, other than it’s bigger.”
I look at Garrick. “How are you certain Purian Rose plans to kill the Darklings?”
“Not just the Darklings,” Garrick says, bringing up some documents stamped CONFIDENTIAL. “From these memos, I was able to determine that Rose plans to send all Impurities—”
“Impurities?” Logan says.
“Anyone Rose feels doesn’t fit in with his plans for the One Faith, One Race, One Nation campaign,” Garrick explains. “This includes Darklings, Bastets, blasphemers, race traitors, Dacians—”
“What about Lupines?” Pullo challenges.
“We weren’t mentioned in the documents,” Garrick says. “I guess he has other plans for us.”
“Then why are you helping us, if you’re not at risk?” Pullo says. “What do you have to gain by telling us about the Tenth?”
Anger flares across Garrick’s face. “Just because I’m a Lupine doesn’t mean I obediently follow everything Purian Rose says and does. I happen to support the rebellion.”
“I’m a little confused,” Logan says. “Rose’s Law only specifies the segregation of Darklings from humans, so how can he justify sending those other people to the concentration camp?”
“The Darklings are just pawns in all this,” Garrick explains. “The government is playing on the tension between your two species to garner support for segregation. But once the law passes, they intend to attach addenda to Rose’s Law to include all the groups—”
“And because they’ll be adding to an existing law, he doesn’t need another vote to do it,” Sigur finishes. “He can send anyone to the Tenth, and it’ll be perfectly legal.”
There are outraged murmurs among the Assembly.
“You didn’t answer my earlier question,” I say. “How do you know Rose plans to kill us?”
“From the intel I’ve gathered, it’s clear that the Tenth is divided into three cities.” Garrick presses a button, and a trio of urban areas glows on the map.
Each city is surrounded by its own boundary wall and joined together by a complex system of roads and rail networks. Garrick indicates the largest city in the Tenth, which is easily five times bigger than Black City.
“This city is called Primus-One. It’s the base camp, where all new arrivals will be sent before they are evaluated and then transported to Primus-Two or Primus-Three.” He indicates the two smaller cities, to the south and east of Mount Alba. “Prisoners will be checked for health, age, strength and skills. Those deemed suitable for work will be sent to Primus-Two, to work in the factories.”
The screen pans in on Primus-Two. It comprises dozens of large industrial buildings.
“What are they producing in those factories?” Roach asks.
“I didn’t have time to access that information before Freya turned up with half the Sentry guard after her,” Garrick replies.
“What happens to the people who aren’t suitable to work in the factories?” Logan says.
Garrick moves the map to the final city, on the east side of the mountain. “They’ll be sent to Primus-III.”
He zooms in on a series of white buildings, each with a green cross painted on the roof, just like the ones they paint on medical laborator
ies. Dread starts to set in.
“He’s going to experiment on us?” I exclaim. “Why?”
“I’m not sure,” Garrick replies. “But those concrete buildings next to the labs are crematoriums, so whatever they’re planning, they don’t expect the test subjects to survive.”
I think I’m going to be sick.
“It’s just like the concentration camp they had in the Barren Lands,” Logan says.
“Except on a much bigger scale,” Garrick replies. “The Tenth can easily handle twenty, maybe thirty, million prisoners at any one time.”
“We must not let Rose’s Law pass tomorrow,” Sigur says.
There are nods of agreement from around the room.
“But won’t Purian Rose still attempt to send us to the ghetto, even if he loses the vote?” Logan says.
“I’d like to see him try!” Roach says. “There would be civil bloody war if he sends the so-called Impurities to the Tenth when over half the country has voted against segregation.”
I consider the fact that Purian Rose came all the way to Black City to threaten me into supporting his law and suspect she’s right. He doesn’t want this to break out into a civil war if he can avoid it.
“Then let’s not give that bastard any chance to do it!” Roach hollers. “We’re gonna win this vote tomorrow, right?”
“Right!” the rebels all chant.
The room erupts into chaos as people discuss this new turn of events, but I’m too numb to hear them. I glance at the map again. This is so much bigger than trying to free my people from the ghettos; the very survival of our species and many others is at risk. So what am I going to do tomorrow? It comes down to this: Whose life is worth more? Natalie’s or theirs?
I honestly don’t know how to answer that question.
5.
NATALIE
“CLOSE YOUR EYES,” Day says as we approach the canal.
The sun has just started to set over Black City, casting a muted peach glow over the buildings. With me are Polly, Day, and her little brother, MJ, plus their parents, Michael and Sumrina. Michael is holding MJ’s hand, helping him walk. It’s funny seeing them side by side, as MJ’s the spitting image of his father; both have the same dark skin, soulful brown eyes and easy smiles, although MJ has a curved back because of his kyphosis. I’m really touched that my sister has come out with us; I know she hates being outside ever since she was tortured and disfigured by Purian Rose.