Black City

  Fragg!

  “What are you doing?” The blond-haired Tracker narrows his green eyes at her.

  “I want to look that race traitor in the eye, if that’s all right with you, Sebastian,” she says.

  Sebastian. So that’s his name.

  He stands aside, and she leans over Tom.

  “Your kind makes me sick,” she says, and slaps Tom across the face, managing to slip the pill into his mouth as she does so. The sleight of hand is so good, no one would’ve noticed unless they were looking real close. Tom’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second before understanding crosses his face.

  She helped him. She bloody well helped him! I struggle to process this thought as Beetle and Roach join me.

  The crowd starts to jeer, getting bored.

  “Kill the race traitors! Kill them! Kill them! Kill them!” they chant.

  Sebastian clears his throat, steps forward and reads aloud from a scroll.

  “For the crime of racial defilement, for having indecent relations with a Darkling, I sentence Thomas Shreve to death by crucifixion.”

  There are cheers from the crowd.

  “For the crime of racial defilement, for having indecent relations with a human, I sentence Jana Marwick to death by crucifixion.”

  There are angry howls from the Legion guards, the sound like baying wolves. Sigur raises a hand, silencing them immediately.

  Jana Marwick? Is she related to Sigur? I didn’t realize he had any family left. I thought they’d all been executed at the start of the war.

  “For the crime of harboring two fugitives of the United Sentry States, I sentence Frank Shreve to death by crucifixion.”

  Movement on the wall draws my attention. There’s a shift in the atmosphere, a sudden stillness in the air as scores of Legion guards in black flowing robes appear on the wall, their dark eyes glittering in the dusky sunlight, capturing everyone’s attention. One by one, the Legion guards turn their backs to us.

  “What are they doing?” Beetle whispers.

  “I think it’s a protest. They’re refusing to watch the execution,” I say. Purian Rose may have the power to execute us, but he doesn’t have the power to make us watch. That’s the one small freedom we’ve got left.

  The three crosses are winched upright and screams fill the air. Tom’s grandfather is mercifully already unconscious from shock, but the other two are still alert as they stare out across the crowd. Blood seeps down Tom’s body from the nails in his wrists, while Jana’s sensitive flesh begins to crackle and sizzle as she finally succumbs to the toxic effects of the acacia wood. Flames start to lick out of her broken skin, crawling up her legs.

  “Demon!” someone yells at her. I think it might be Gregory.

  I can’t imagine being on that cross, staring out at a sea of sneering faces as you slowly suffocate, all alone . . .

  The fire rapidly spreads up Jana’s body, but she doesn’t scream, she doesn’t make a sound. She simply turns to look at Tom as her body is consumed by flames. He holds her gaze for as long as he can before swallowing the pill. It’s not a moment too soon, as the fire spreads to his cross and sets him ablaze.

  The crowds cheer as the lovers burn.

  “One race under His Mighty!” they chant.

  From across the stage, Natalie’s eyes meet mine as red flames and black smoke billow behind her.

  Sebastian leads Natalie off the stage and hands her over to another guard, a brawny black man who has a broken nose and three savage claw marks down his neck. She’s ushered down City End away from the mob. Day chases after Natalie.

  Roach turns to us. “Get out of here, kids.”

  We don’t need to be told twice—we slip through the crowd and out onto City End. I immediately spark up a cigarette and pass it to Beetle.

  “I’m sorry about Tom,” I say.

  Beetle takes a puff of the cigarette. There’s a fierce look in his eyes that I only see when he’s off on one of his rants. “All Purian Rose has done is given us a martyr. Tom’s death won’t be in vain.”

  “You can’t be serious. He was your friend.”

  “He was a freedom fighter; he’d want to die for the cause if it helped us, which it will.”

  I rake a weary hand through my hair. Now’s not the time to argue with him. We turn the bend and come face-to-face with Natalie and Day, several Sentry guards and a Tracker—the black man with claw marks down his neck. The guards draw their swords and point them at me.

  “Where’s your ID bracelet, nipper?” Claw Neck says.

  Beetle stands in front of me. “He doesn’t have to wear—”

  I roll my sleeve up to show the guard my copper wristband, my blood boiling with anger and humiliation.

  Beetle’s eyes widen.

  “Lower your weapons. I know these people,” Natalie orders.

  They look at Claw Neck, who also orders them to lower their swords.

  “You can go, Kurt,” she says to Claw Neck.

  “You know I can’t do that, miss, I have strict orders—”

  She rolls her eyes. “Fine. Will you at least walk down the road a little way, so I can have some privacy?”

  Claw Neck waves his men on, mumbling under his breath.

  “I’m so sorry about your friend,” Natalie says to us. “That’s no way to die.”

  I give a gruff laugh. “Look, thanks for your help, blondie, but if it weren’t for your kind, he wouldn’t have been up there in the first place.”

  “My kind? Honestly, Ash, you’re such an ass.” Natalie heads toward Bleak Street with Day. She doesn’t look back.

  My heart’s slowing down now that Natalie is walking away.

  “Why did it have to be her? Why is my heart beating now?” I mumble.

  Beetle shrugs. “Karma’s a bitch sometimes.”

  “But what does it mean?”

  “It doesn’t mean anything. She’s a Sentry, end of story,” he says.

  “But—”

  “Forget it, Ash. I’m all for Darklings and humans getting along, and Natalie did help Tom, so that does go in her favor, but she’s still a Sentry. That’s wrong on epic levels, bro. That’s like collaborating with the devil!”

  “I know! Do you think I wanted this to happen?” I kick the wall.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your ID band?” Beetle asks.

  I let out an irritated sigh. “Because I knew what you’d say, and I don’t want to join Humans for Unity.”

  “Well, maybe this is a sign you should reconsider.”

  “What’s the point? Nothing’s ever going to change. Fragg, I hate it here!” I yell.

  A shadow falls over us as a Legion guard patrols the Boundary Wall. He moves on, leaving the wall unprotected. I wonder how hard it would be to climb up. Thirty feet. I’m sure I could do it before getting caught; other Darklings have managed it before when they’ve snuck over the wall from the Legion side. The wall’s guarded twenty-four hours a day by Sentry guards trying to keep Darklings from getting out of the ghetto, and by Legion guards trying to prevent humans from getting in. Even so, they can’t protect every inch of the wall at all times, it’s just too vast. So it is possible to get over if your timing is right. This is my chance.

  “Uh-oh, I recognize that look,” Beetle says. “Don’t even think about it, man.”

  “I just want to see what’s on the other side,” I say, now consumed by my desire to see the other Darklings. They might have some answers about what’s happening to me.

  “Don’t be stupid.” There’s a note of panic in his voice. “It’s too high; you’ll fall.”

  “No I won’t.”

  I step up to the wall and dig my fingers into the tiny groo
ves in the concrete. Taking a deep breath, I pull myself up the wall, one hand over the other.

  Twenty-five feet to go.

  Twenty.

  Fifteen.

  I’m going to make it!

  “Ash! Get down!” Beetle calls.

  His voice attracts the attention of the Legion guard farther down the wall. The guard starts to run in my direction. I don’t know whether he plans to stop me or help me over so I can finally meet my family, but I don’t want to chance it being the former option.

  Crap!

  My fingers scrape against the concrete, pulling out chunks of stone in my desperation to get up.

  Ten feet.

  So close!

  Five.

  I’m almost there.

  Four.

  The guard’s just steps away.

  Three.

  My brethren. I’m going to see my family.

  Two.

  My hand slips, and I’m falling before I know what’s happened. My feet kick at thin air, my fingers drag against the concrete. I smash into the pavement.

  Beetle rushes over. “Are you still alive?”

  I groan. “Just.”

  The Legion guard stares down at me, shakes his head, then turns away.

  I stand up, more embarrassed than hurt. “Let’s get out of here.”

  11

  NATALIE

  “WATCH THE GARBAGE BIN—it’s full of medical waste,” I say.

  Day makes an “eww” noise, giving the overflowing garbage bin a wide berth as we walk down Bleak Street toward the Sentry HQ’s kitchen entrance, Kurt and the other guards following a short distance behind.

  “Why are we taking the back entrance?” she says as I punch in the security code and enter the kitchen.

  “Habit, I guess,” I say.

  I worked out pretty quickly that there’s less security on this entrance, which means there are fewer people watching my comings and goings. I hate the fact I’m always being monitored.

  I dismiss Kurt and his troop, and they head upstairs.

  “Let’s hang out in my room until dinner,” I say to Day when they’ve gone.

  “Can’t we take a tour of the house first? I’ve always wanted to see inside this place,” Day asks.

  I sigh. “Sure.”

  What I hope will be a five-minute tour takes nearly an hour, as Day stops to examine every room, even the staff restroom, asking me countless questions about the history of the place, as if I know! Polly and I grew up at our mansion in the Park.

  I don’t usually spend much time outside of my room when I’m in the building, and the unfamiliar labyrinth of corridors on the way back to the living quarters starts to look the same to me.

  “Er . . . I think it’s this way,” I say, leading her down a long hallway and immediately realizing we’ve gone the wrong way when we stumble upon a massive steel door manned by several heavily armed guards.

  “What’s through there?” she asks.

  “The interrogation rooms.”

  Day raises a brow. “They do that here?”

  “How do you think the Trackers get their intel?”

  “I thought they just felt stuff,” she says, referring to the V-gene that all Trackers are born with that helps them sense Darklings.

  I laugh. “They may have the V-gene, but they’re not psychic. They still need to do police work, interrogate dregs to get leads on new Darkling nests or Haze dens around the city, that sort of thing.”

  “Are there many Darkling nests in the city?” she says.

  “Enough to keep Sebastian and the other Trackers in work,” I reply.

  “How are the Darklings even getting over the wall?”

  I shrug. “The wall can’t be guarded all the time, and Darklings are good climbers.”

  “I always wondered why the Nordin Darklings don’t just fly over the wall,” Day says.

  “There are automated gun pods all around the city to shoot down any Nordins if they attempt that.”

  At that moment, the steel door opens and three guys are escorted out, being released. Their skin is sallow and laced with black veins, which are characteristic of long-term Haze abuse. Day hides behind me. One of the Hazers—a teenage boy with bright purple dreadlocks—gives me a hard stare as he passes. A guard nudges the boy with the end of his gun and leads him away.

  “Come on, I think we need to go this way,” I say to Day.

  We find our way back to the living quarters and head upstairs. The door to Sebastian’s room yanks open as we walk by. Sebastian scowls at me.

  “I need to talk to you,” he says to me.

  I quickly introduce him to Day.

  “I’ll meet you in my room. Last door on the left,” I tell her.

  “Nice to have met you, Day. I’m sure we’ll see each other again at the Tracker trials next week,” Sebastian says, referring to the test that will determine which kids at school have the V-gene. “I hope you’ll be joining my squad.”

  She forces a smile and leaves.

  As soon as she’s turned the corner, he pulls me into his bedroom, which is big and luxurious, with exotic animal skulls mounted on the burgundy walls, a Lupine-fur rug by the marble fireplace and a mahogany four-poster bed covered in black silk sheets. It all screams power and sex: the two things Sebastian loves most. On his dressing table beside me is a brand-new copy of the Book of Creation—the Purity holy text. When did Sebastian start reading that nonsense?

  “Why did you do it?” he demands.

  “I don’t know what you’re—”

  “Cut the crap. I saw you give that race traitor the cyanide pill.”

  “You did?” I say, stunned. I thought I’d been so careful. “The boy was in so much pain. No one deserves to die like that.”

  “He was a race traitor, a Darkling lover. He deserved everything he got,” Sebastian says.

  “You’re one to talk.”

  Sebastian’s fist clenches, and I know I’ve overstepped the line.

  “That’s different,” he says.

  “How?”

  “No one will ever find out. Will they?” he says.

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” I reply, not that he deserves my loyalty. But I don’t want to get him into trouble, no matter how badly he hurt me, and he knows it.

  He takes a deep breath, calming himself.

  “You’re lucky it was me up on that stage and not Kurt or one of the other Trackers,” he says. “They wouldn’t think twice about reporting you to Purian Rose.”

  My heart leaps into my mouth. “You’re not going to tell on me, are you?”

  “Of course not. I’d never let anyone hurt you,” he says. “But you have to be careful, Natalie. Don’t give Purian Rose another excuse to hurt you or Polly.”

  Sebastian tenderly strokes my cheek, and for a moment I let him, remembering the reason I used to love him. He was so kind and gentle with me after my father died; it was exactly what I needed. Then I recall the reason we broke up and slap his hand away, ignoring his wounded look.

  I pick up the Book of Creation from his dresser. “What are you doing with this?”

  “I thought I’d read it and see what all the fuss is about.”

  “You know it’s a load of insane, rambling bullcrap written by Purian Rose, so why bother?” I say.

  He shrugs. “It might improve my chances of getting a promotion if I follow the faith. I don’t have to actually believe in it. I just need to have read it.”

  Everything he does always has to benefit his career somehow, including dating me. I toss the book on his dresser and head to my room, checking on Polly along the way. She’s sound asleep. The
medication they put her on makes her drowsy, so she sleeps a lot.

  In my room, Day’s lying on my bed next to my cat, Truffles, reading the latest issue of Sentry Youth Monthly. Truffles softly meows at me. I’m struck by the sight of Day with her feet kicked up in the air, ankles crossed, flicking through the fashion section of the magazine, just the way Polly used to do. It’s like a flashback from my past. I swallow hard.

  Day sits up. “You okay, Nat?”

  “You just reminded me of my sister for a second. The way she was before she got hurt.”

  I press Truffles close to my face. I love the way he smells; it’s so warm and comforting. He lets me hold him for a minute before wriggling free and making a beeline for the rug.

  “What happened to your sister?” Day asks.

  “She got tortured.”

  Day’s eyes widen. “By whom?”

  Something warns me not to tell her the whole truth.

  “An enemy of my father,” I say. “He ordered Polly’s torture to punish my father and made us all watch. It was horrible. It was my fault she got hurt.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second.”

  “It’s what my mother thinks, and she never lets me forget it. Mother loved Polly so much more than me; she thinks I’m a waste of space.”

  “I’m sure she doesn’t feel that way.”

  I don’t say anything. Day has no idea how my mother treats me, how she has to make every decision for me because she thinks I’m incapable of doing anything on my own.

  “How’s MJ doing?” I ask her, to get the focus off me.

  She shrugs. “He has his good days and his bad ones. Thanks for the painkillers—they'll really help.”

  I lightly touch her hand. “I’ll get you some more whenever you need them. Okay?”

  She nods, her chocolate-brown eyes watering.

  “Let’s change the subject to something more cheerful. We’re supposed to be having fun,” I say.

  Day smiles awkwardly. “So . . . erm . . . what do we do at a sleepover, exactly?”

  “Have you never been to a slumber party?”

  Day pushes her glasses up her nose. “I don’t really have time for them. I’m always studying.”