I glance around me and know there will be no help for me tonight. We’re outside, beyond Bo’s eyes and ears. Melik has disappeared. My father is probably sleeping in his alcove, dreaming of my mother.
I am alone, and I must take care of myself. I suck in a painful breath, trying to coax the air into my poor lungs and clever thoughts into my frazzled brain. I am not going to let this man touch me.
“Foreman Ebian, you are very courteous,” I say.
Ebian stops, his hands tucked into his pants. He squints at me. This is not the response he expected. “I am?”
I smile at him, wishing suddenly that I had metal fangs instead of blunt little teeth. “Indeed. Underboss Mugo will be delighted, I am sure, to hear of this.”
He frowns as my words work their way into his drunken thoughts. Mugo. Who has the power to destroy Ebian. Who is not known for sharing. While he ponders this, I get to my feet and dust off my dressing gown. I am bruised and panting, but my face is no longer at the level of his crotch, and that alone makes me feel more confident.
“What would you like to teach me, Foreman Ebian? The underboss has promised to teach me too, but he has not yet had the opportunity. I know he will be thrilled to hear that you provided me with my first lessons.”
Ah, this puts a look of fear on Ebian’s face. He doubtless knows Mugo likes his girls pure and untouched so he can ruin them himself. “But the Noor,” he says, watching me with narrowed eyes.
I wave my hand to dismiss Melik like I might a gnat, and I hope Ebian doesn’t notice how much it is shaking. “Oh, no, I would never defy the underboss. We all know how much power he has!” I cannot believe I am discussing my virginity like this, so casually, so callously.
Ebian removes his hands from his pants with a grunt because he knows I’m right. I will never be glad of Mugo’s attention to me, but in this moment I’m not sorry for it either.
“Better get back inside before you catch a cold, then,” he says, watching me regretfully, like I’m a juicy meat bun he’s accidentally dropped on the muddy ground.
I curtsy to him and he walks away quickly, heading for the compound fence, maybe to visit a pink-light salon and work off some of his frustration. I think a silent apology toward whichever poor woman ends up with him as a customer. I hope it’s not Jima. It was so easy to feel contempt for those women when I imagined I would never be like them, when I assumed I’d always have what I needed and further assumed that I deserved as much. Now I understand how foolish that was. I feel sympathy for them and what they must do to put food on their tables. I realize how fortunate I will be if I can avoid that fate.
When Ebian disappears from my sight, I sink down on a bench at the edge of the square. I can see the entrance to the factory easily from here, and I am ready to bolt if another man appears. It is stupid of me to be out here alone, but I can’t bear to go back in and walk past Mugo’s wrecked office now, because it will remind me that it is only a matter of time before he decides he is tired of waiting. He is the giant cat with me trapped like a rabbit between his enormous paws. He is playing with me before he gets bored and bites my head off. And after that it will be over, and I will be ruined for real. No one will want me, but anyone will be able to claim me.
Bo is right. He cannot be allowed to do that. It will kill me. But I cannot refuse Mugo. What about my father? What would Mugo do to him? Would he send him penniless into the Ring—or would he transfer him? Suddenly I realize how Bo must have thought of this too, how he arranged the perfect setup to protect my father from Mugo’s wrath. If everyone believed me to be dead, Mugo would have no reason to punish my father. And despite knowing my father has sold me into this, that he is silently turning his head while Mugo does what he wants, I still don’t want him to suffer. I think my father is too fragile to survive it.
Maybe if I run away, Mugo will spare my father, too. But only if he thinks Father didn’t know about it. Which means Father cannot know about it.
I have no idea how long I sit there in the dark, on that hard bench, how many silly schemes I dream up, how many plans I make and discard. My fingers are numb and so is my face. I am beyond shivering, but I am still not ready to walk into the belly of the factory, to let it eat me up. It is only when the voice speaks to me in the darkness that I realize there is someone sitting next to me on the bench.
“You saved us tonight, you know,” Melik says.
I look over at him, puzzled.
“Your scream.”
“Oh. Ebian . . .”
He crosses his arms over his chest and jams his hands into his armpits. “I climbed over the fence to get to you. By the time I made it over, he was walking away. He didn’t . . . ?”
My laugh is humorless. “Oh, no—see, I belong to Mugo, so Ebian can’t touch me. Not yet, at least.”
Beside me, Melik’s body winds tight as a spring. “I’ve been watching you, sitting here, for the longest time. I was waiting for you to get cold and go inside, but you aren’t going to, are you?”
I shake my head. My plan right now is to sit here until I freeze to death.
Melik sighs. “Wen . . .”
“I don’t know how everything became so messed up,” I say. “I can’t seem to do anything right. I’m sorry about Ugur.”
Melik is quiet for a long time. “Pelin, Baris, and Zeki aren’t sure what they saw. Only that they heard Ugur’s cries and ran to him, but when they found him, it was already too late. They said you were there too, and you knew how to make the silver demons that attacked him disappear.”
That’s about as accurate an assessment of what happened as any I could come up with.
“I saw someone grab you,” he says. “I fell behind, and I couldn’t reach you.”
He’s giving me an opening. Trying not to judge or jump to conclusions. I am grateful but also resentful. I don’t want to talk about this right now. Still, Melik is more important to me than that, and he deserves more than silence.
“You know about the Ghost who haunts the factory.”
He shifts on the bench so he can look at my face. “People make wishes, and apparently, sometimes he grants them. And he is the one you challenged after Tercan lifted your skirts.” There is bitterness in his voice that makes my heart shrivel. “Hazzi warned us not to trifle with him.”
“Today the Ghost was protecting me from Mugo. He could see what was happening, what was about to happen, and so he stopped it.”
I dare to look Melik in the eye, and I see neither anger nor disbelief there. “Then, he did better for you than I could,” he says softly. “All I seem capable of doing is getting you in trouble.”
“I was thinking the same thing—I’ve caused you nothing but grief since you came here.”
Melik moves slowly, giving me all the time in the world to pull away, and takes my hands between his. He holds them low on the bench between us, hidden beneath a fold in his coat. “We are bad for each other, I think,” he says, and there is the smallest of sad smiles on his face.
“Obviously.” I am squeezing his hands so hard I am surprised it doesn’t hurt him. And he is squeezing back.
“Mugo was right, you know. The rules are different where I come from.”
“Oh?”
“A Noor woman has the right to choose who she wants, to be with who she wants. And if she is with someone, she can touch him when she pleases.”
I smile in spite of myself. “And kiss him in public?”
“Of course.” His fingers trace over my palm. “These things are not frowned upon. We don’t hide how we feel.”
I think of how the Noor touch one another, even the men. They communicate their sentiments with their fingers and hands, with their expressions and gestures and voices. Melik is right—they don’t hide. “Isn’t anything private?”
He keeps his eyes on me as he strokes the insides of my wrists, lighting a
flame low in my belly. “Some things.”
I pull my hands back and wrap my arms around me. I don’t know what he is doing to me, but I know we shouldn’t be doing it here. It’s too much, meant for a dark room and a slow-burning fire, and I should not want that right now. “But Mugo was also right when he said that, here, if a girl is free with her affections, any man will think he has the right to touch her.”
The sound that comes from him is perilously close to a growl. “I know that now. And even if I didn’t before, your friend Jima took care of that.”
“You saw her?”
He nods, his expression somber. “The workers’ group has pooled some money to make sure she has a safe place to live and enough food to eat. It is not a good life, but she won’t be on the streets.” He sighs. “But one of the men teased me about you tonight, and she overheard. She gave me an earful. She doesn’t want her fate to become yours.”
I stare at the stone walkway that leads to the factory gates. I do not deserve Jima’s concern. Melik touches my hand, drawing it back into the warmth of his. “I felt so powerless this afternoon. I didn’t know how to save you, but I wanted to so badly. And this is why I owe a thank-you to the Ghost.”
I don’t tell him that I think the Ghost would like to touch me too, but maybe he understands that, because he says, “You were gone for hours. You were with him?” He reads my expression and his own turns grim. “He must be more than air and smoke if he can make all these things happen.”
“He is more than air and smoke.”
“Can you tell me what happened to Ugur?” I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice level and calm. “Did he anger your Ghost?”
“No, the Ghost didn’t want him to die, and neither did I.” I shiver. “There are . . . things . . . below the factory. Security devices. Ugur triggered one of them, and they attacked. I tried to keep him safe, but I couldn’t.”
“Security devices . . . this factory is full of secrets, and so are you.”
“I’m not the only one,” I say, raising my head.
“You saw us tonight, didn’t you?”
I nod.
“Many of us, and not just the Noor, are angry at how the workers are treated. I met with a group of them right after Tercan died.”
“At the pink-light salon.”
He gives me a rueful look. “I was told that is the only place in town where men can slip in and out without others watching too closely. Well. Without most others watching.”
“You’re going to get yourself in trouble.” It bursts out of me before I can snap my mouth shut.
The sound that comes from him is all exasperation. “Wen, we’re already in trouble. If we fall further into debt, Mugo has the right to sell us to the labor camps. Did you know that?”
My throat goes very dry. They are called labor camps, but they are really death camps. That is where criminals are sent, but now that I think about it, being unable to pay a debt is a crime, should the person you owe choose to report it. Is that what my father is facing too?
Melik scoots a little closer to me on the bench. “It was part of the contract we signed. Every worker here has. If you can’t pay your debts but you can still work, Mugo can either keep you here or sell you. He owns us, Wen. He owns you, too.”
My stomach turns. “The transfers.” This is what those mysterious orders are, the ones for the older workers and those who displease him. No wonder they are so terrified. Mugo isn’t moving them to another factory. He’s selling them. Like slaves.
Melik must see that I believe him. “Mugo plans to sell us after the feasting season is over,” he tells me. “Hazzi—who is being transferred in a week—warned me, and one of the others had heard Mugo talking about it. He has no intention of letting us go home.”
“Run,” I say. “There is a path through the Western Hills. You can follow it all the way to where you come from.” Melik could never be a slave. He should never be broken.
“No,” he says, and leans closer still. “I will stay here, and I will fight for what is mine.”
I am caught by the fire in his words, by the sheer beauty of his face, by the silent power he seems to wield so effortlessly. I am afraid for him and amazed by him at the same time. He shames me, this boy who does not know his place—he is facing slavery and he will not run, while all I want to do is run, with little regard for whom I leave behind. “I will stay too,” I say, “but I am scared.”
He laughs quietly. “There’s nothing wrong with being scared. It only means something important is at stake.”
He is close enough for me to lean into, and I do, even though I shouldn’t. I want to be like one of those Noor women, who can touch whom they please. Because right now I need to touch Melik so badly that I’m willing to risk everything to do it. I duck my head into the crook of his neck and press my forehead against his throat. I curl my hands into his shirt, careful of the long wound that lies beneath the fabric. For this moment it is only us, and the world is the size of this bench. He wraps his arms around me, cradling the back of my head in his palm. He murmurs in Noor, quiet words meant only for us.
“Are you scared?” I whisper against his skin.
He kisses my forehead and holds me so tight that I think I will never be cold again. “Wen, what is at stake is more important to me than anything in this world. I am terrified.”
“That’s good, Noor,” says a hard voice from behind us. “Because you should be.”
MELIK’S ARMS TURN to steel around me. The pulse in his neck kicks hard against my cheek. Slowly we turn to see Iyzu standing behind our bench, and Lati next to him.
Melik takes my hand as he rises. “It’s very late,” he says. “Wen was just going inside.” He pulls me to my feet and gives me a gentle push toward the main entrance of the factory.
I am too horrified to speak. With my cheeks burning and my head down, I begin to move toward the door, but Iyzu steps into my path.
Lati snorts. “If you’re done with her, maybe she’d like to entertain us for a while. It will save us from having to pay for it.”
“That will never happen,” Melik says calmly.
Iyzu and Lati close the distance between us, exchanging the same kind of teasing, cruel look they shared the night they tried to take Melik’s medicine. “You don’t have all your Noor friends to protect you and your little slut tonight,” Iyzu says to Melik, his voice silky and poisonous, “so how will you stop us?”
Melik smiles and holds his hands out at his sides. “That’s right. I’m all alone.” There is a brightness in his tone and expression that catches me, something eager yet cold.
Lati, stupid as he is, does not sense it. He grabs for my arm. But he doesn’t even get close, because Melik buries his fist in Lati’s soft middle, doubling him over. Melik hisses something to him in Noor and knees him in the face before he can straighten up. Lati crumples, moaning like a dying cow, blood gushing from his nose.
Iyzu charges Melik before his friend hits the ground, plowing into him with the full force of his body. My hands flutter at my sides and tears start in my eyes. Melik nearly died two days ago. His wounds aren’t yet healed. He loses his balance and falls, with Iyzu on top of him. Iyzu punches at him furiously, raining blows on his face and body. But then I catch a glimpse of Melik’s expression.
He does not look scared. Or hurt. He looks . . . satisfied. His mask has dropped away again, and there is fire in his eyes. Iyzu and Lati have given him the opportunity to hit back.
And he is very good at it.
He catches Iyzu around the neck and drives his elbow into Iyzu’s shoulder. Iyzu grunts and attempts to roll away. But Melik grabs him by the hair and rises to his knees before shooting a vicious punch to Iyzu’s throat. Iyzu’s eyes go round as saucers as he tries and fails to draw breath. Melik leans down so that his face is close to Iyzu’s, his eyes alight with the flames of ha
tred.
“Call her a slut again,” he invites in a deadly whisper. “Threaten her again.”
“Melik,” I say. “You’re going to get in trouble. You need to go back to your dorm.”
He ignores me. He is staring intently at Iyzu, waiting for the boy’s response. “Come now,” he croons. “I am all alone, so how will I stop you?”
Iyzu lets out a choked whimper. Melik releases his hair and lets him collapse onto the stones while he turns his attention to Lati, who is trying to crawl away. Unhurried, loose limbed, like one of those big cats in the forest, Melik stalks over to him. There is blood on his hands.
“Please stop,” I say, but my voice is so small, and it is dwarfed by his rage. I can’t let him do this, though. If Lati and Iyzu tell, Melik will be arrested. It won’t matter who started it.
I stumble forward right as Melik reaches Lati and blocks his escape route. He nudges Lati’s shoulder with his boot. “A moment ago you were looking for entertainment,” he says. “Is that still the case?”
Lati shakes his head desperately and Melik’s brittle, frightening smile disappears. His jaw goes rigid. “Stand up,” he orders.
He wants them to face him like men, but they are only boys. They are almost as big as he is, and they think they are tough only because no one has ever challenged them. They believe Melik is weak because he and the Noor keep their heads down and have done their best to stay out of trouble. But Iyzu and Lati did not grow up with sickles and threshers in their hands. They are soft boys who, even though they work in this factory, have been given the easy jobs. They are future foremen, like Ebian.
They are nothing compared with Melik.
Fierce pride sparks in my chest, but it is immediately extinguished by my fear. Iyzu has gotten to his feet. And now he is holding a knife.
“Melik!” I cry as Iyzu charges.
Melik’s boot connects with Lati’s side, kicking him into Iyzu’s path. Iyzu tries to jump over his thickset friend, but he doesn’t quite manage it, and as he falls, Melik’s hand whips out and grabs Iyzu’s wrist. He strips the knife from Iyzu and deftly flips it in his palm. And I can see it in his eyes: He wants to kill. He wants to flay Iyzu and Lati like the beef carcasses that pass by his carving station. He wants payment for all the humiliation he and his Noor have suffered. His knuckles turn white as he grips the knife’s bone handle, and the blade glints under the moonlight. He looks like he’s considering which one of them to gut first.