Jay
The week passes. And it’s fucking awful.
Darlings head out to Draft One in the daytime, recruiting, trading in the black markets, stealing fuel and food, while the Twist tells the kids stories about dragons and a girl locked away alone in a tower and constantly bugs Sylvia, trying to get her to help out with her revolution.
The nights are worse. They all sit around in the Circus telling stories about phoenixes rising from the flames of burnt books, and singing about lost loves, and dancing to haunting tunes that come from nowhere as Elle creates music from nothing.
I hate it. But I can’t stop myself from watching her as her cheeks flush and her hands gesture and her pupils dilate. They do that, I’ve noticed, when she tells her blasphemous stories.
They do that when she looks at me too.
She keeps trying to get me to sleep in the Circus tent with her at night. Alongside ten or so other people. I’m not doing it. It’s not just because of the Darlings and that weird pulsating light she says is a story and the whispers that follow me; it’s her. It’s the torture of lying beside her, smelling her, feeling her. Remembering her mouth moving against mine. Imagining what I’ll do to her when I get her alone. And I don’t even know when that will be.
She’s kept busy helping with the food rations and looking after the children and repairing clothes. There’s only time for a few words, a few stories, a few lingering glances where her eyes trace my body and betray thoughts she’s keeping to herself about what she wants from me. Nothing more.
No one speaks to me. Except for Sylvia and Raven who throw insults my way whenever they can. It takes all my strength not to lose my shit with them.
Maggie talks to me too as I help her to fix her shabby black van. There’s fuck all else to do here, and she’s the only person who doesn’t look at me as if I’m a monster every time I get close. She tells me to give people time, not get angry they’re keeping us apart.
But everyone is wating for me to fuck up; waiting for me to kill something.
I don’t know what the fuck I’m still doing here.
On the fourth day, the Twist sneaks out into Draft One. I only know she’s gone because I notice her absence like a hole. My feet lead me to the nearest black market—sprung up underground down an old mine shaft—in pursuit of her.
She’s there. Of course she is. In the centre of a cave standing on a cargo box, hair wild and eyes bright in the darkness, her stories about yellow dandelions in a grey world travelling through the air like seeds as people listen.
She goes back the next two days as well—despite the fact I follow and grab her from the shadows each time, dragging her back to the mist while she tells me she’s planting dandelion seeds and no one will hurt her here.
She drives me fucking crazy. She won’t listen. She won’t do as she’s told. She won’t take what she wants from me. My skin constantly itches and burns. She’s like a virus, spreading poison that’s going to get her killed.
I don’t stop her from leaving the settlement though. Even though I could. Maybe it’s because it finally gets me away from these people who hate me.
Maybe I like listening to her stories.
On the eighth day, we go through the same routine. Only, when we get back to the settlement, Elle is ordered to Sylvia’s shipping container.
Sylvia sits behind her table when we enter, black hat askew on her head, with Raven and the knife girl standing on either side of her. When they see I’m with the Twist, Raven tightens her grip on the gun across her chest, and Sylvia’s expression darkens.
‘You’ve been busy, haven’t you, sweetie?’ she says. ‘I hear you’ve been taking unauthorised trips to Draft One.’
Elle folds her arms across her chest. ‘I told you, I need to plant the seeds.’
Sylvia slams her palms on the table so hard Raven flinches and Anna’s hand reflexively moves to her knife. ‘And I told you that you could stay so long as you remained within the camp.’
‘Sylvia, it’s fine—’
‘Fine? Fine, is it? Well, as long as little Elle with her stories and visions of grandeur thinks it’s fine to be gallivanting out into Draft One while the Creators are looking for her, I suppose I should stop worrying.’ She narrows her eyes. ‘You’re not to leave the settlement again.’
‘I don’t answer to you.’
‘Well, who do you answer to then, sweetie? Him?’ She flicks her wrist at me.
‘Watch it,’ I say.
‘Did someone say you could speak, Blotter?’ asks Sylvia.
‘Can I kill this bitch now, Elle?’
‘Bitch. How creative,’ says Sylvia. ‘You know I’ve been called that a lot in my time, honey. I take it as a compliment. Because you know what it really means, right? It means a woman who hasn’t conformed to her story. I guess that’s quite hard for you to take in though, isn’t it, Blotter? Someone not falling over their feet to do what you expect them to do. ‘
I step forwards.
‘Don’t,’ says Elle.
My blood boils, and I’m struggling not to lose my shit at her, at these people, at this entire situation.
‘No. I was mistaken, wasn’t I?’ Sylvia snarls. ‘It’s he who answers to you, isn’t it? Follows you around like a little lost puppy. How sweet—’
I think I’m about to crack a tooth I’m clenching my jaw so hard. I’m going to kill her.
‘Don’t speak to him that way,’ says Elle.
‘I should have—’
There’s gunfire outside. Sylvia stands abruptly, eyes widening, and grabs her pistol. Raven and Anna raise their weapons. I turn as Sylvia’s door slides open.
Three Blotters stand on the other side.
They raise their guns.
Fuck.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Jay
I lurch forwards. Metal ricochets off metal. I grab the barrel of the gun in the centre and thrust it repeatedly into the Blotter’s face. His nose cracks as he rains bullets. He stumbles, and I catch the look of surprise in his eyes.
Surprise. New for Blotters. Weird. Different.
I know the feeling, mate.
I twist his head and feel the satisfying snap of his neck. He crumples to the floor.
The other two are already on the ground beside him—one with a bullet hole in his head, the other a knife shuddering from his neck. The Darlings were lucky. The three dead on the floor hesitated when they saw me. Only for a split second. But it was enough.
The Twist.
I turn.
She’s by the wall, behind Raven, who must have pushed her there. Her face is pale. There’s something almost childlike about her expression—like she’s lost. I’ve never seen her look like that before. Not when I came to kill her, not when the Blotters arrived in the black market, not even when I shoved her into the wardrobe of my bedsit.
She looks at me, and fuck, I want to take that look off her face. I want to tell her it’ll be okay. It’s just a few Blotters. I can handle it. I won’t let anyone hurt her. And that fucks me up in the head, that urge to make her better. Because since when did I give a shit about some little Twist with a stupid idea about killing the gods?
I wrench the dead Blotter up by his vest. I pull the rifle and strap from over his head, dropping him in a pool of black, inky blood that splashes on my boots. I sling it over my body.
There’s more screaming ahead, and I catch movement in the corner of my eye. The girl with the half-shaven head crouches beside me. She pulls her knife out of the Blotter’s throat then sprints into the settlement. Raven follows, firing her gun and spraying black blood on the striped Circus tent.
That’s new too, Blotters getting killed by Darlings. I’ve not heard of this happening. It cannot be written. It doesn’t make sense.
Nothing makes sense anymore.
‘You did this.’ Sylvia’s words are quiet, but they carry over the sound of the gunfire. She’s on her feet, pointing her pistol at the open door of the shi
pping container. Her eyes are on Elle though.
‘It’s not possible,’ says Elle. She stares out into the settlement, where people are screaming and dying.
‘Elle,’ I warn.
She sprints past me out into the carnage.
Oh, for fuck’s sake.
‘Blotter—’ Sylvia starts.
‘Fuck you.’ I leap over the dead men on the floor and catch her by the entrance of the Circus tent, grabbing her arm and wrenching her towards me. ‘What the fuck are you doing?’
‘The children.’
‘What?’
There’s a loud male shriek. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a scrawny-looking guy get gunned down by a Blotter. His body crumples and is swallowed by the mist. Behind him, the forest painted onto the trailer is peppered with bullet holes.
‘The shipping container at the other side of the tent. The kids hang out in there.’ She pulls away, but I tighten my grip on her arm.
‘And what are you going to do about it? You don’t even have a weapon.’
She wrenches her arm out of my grasp. ‘I don’t need a weapon. I am a weapon. There was a girl once. They said she was small, but she could touch the sky. She wrapped it around herself like a tornado—’
I shake her arms and bring my face close to hers. ‘Stop with the stories, Elle. Look around you. This is real life. We’re going. Now.’
‘No.’
‘This place is fucked. These people are fucked. We need to go.’
A Blotter notices us—a tall, muscular blonde guy with death tattooed on his neck and shoulders. I recognize him. He’s assigned to Draft One, like me. I’ve drank with him a few times in one of the taverns.
I let go of Elle, raise my rifle, and kill him.
‘Elle.’ I turn back, but I’m faced with the rippling fabric of the Circus tent. I let the gun drop against my chest, then I rub my face hard with my hands. I slip into the Circus tent entrance after her.
I jog through the spotlight, and I’m hit with the memory of our kiss a week ago, and the horrible sound of bees. Frustration writhes inside me. Why does she have to be so infuriating? Seconds later, I’m back in the camp, in the centre of the chaos and the screaming.
Where the fuck is she? People are running, panicking, looking for each other as Blotters hunt them down. I don’t like to admit it, but I’m looking for Maggie too. Her time should have ended long ago, but she doesn’t deserve to go like this.
Across the settlement, Raven is leading a group of kids around the edge of a shipping container. Is Elle with them too? Some long-haired guy, blood running down his face, barges into my bad shoulder as I make my way down one of the narrow pathways between trailers.
‘Watch it.’ I rub my arm absently as I pick up my pace, counting Blotters as I pass. There are at least ten, and they’re not open firing anymore. They’re working together, rounding people up, herding them towards the tent.
I’ve not seen such a large Blotter operation before. Usually, the Creators would send an earthquake or a fire to get rid of so many people.
It’s because of her, the Twist, I’m sure of it.
They want to make sure they get her.
They won’t fucking touch her.
The mist surrounding the settlement seems more agitated than usual. A whole wall of it billows in the air even though we’re not at the Edge yet. Raven is sending the group of kids into it. She turns as I approach, her long braids whipping over her shoulder. We both raise our guns.
‘Easy,’ I say. ‘I’m looking for Elle. Is she here?’
Raven’s eyes flash. ‘You brought the Blotters here.’
We circle each other slowly. I could kill her. But I won’t unless she makes me. It would piss Elle off.
‘Where is she?’
‘You stay away from her.’
‘Where the fuck is she?’
‘You’ve got Elle fooled. She thinks her death is marked on your skin. She thinks your being here wasn’t written. But of course it was. You were supposed to come here. You were supposed to find us, to lead them to us. Weren’t you?’
A muscle twitches in my jaw. ‘You have no idea what not killing her has cost me. You know fuck all.’
‘I know everything I need to know. You’re a Blotter.’ Spit flies from her lips as she speaks. ‘I should kill you.’
‘You’d be dead before you pulled the trigger.’
A Blotter comes out of nowhere, raising his gun to hit her on the side of the head. I shoot him in the face, and he crumples to the ground. Raven’s eyes widen, her gaze locking onto mine. And then we both turn and fire our weapons as six more run towards us.
My bullet hits the nearest, and then I charge forwards, dealing with three of them in seconds.
‘Blotter!’ Raven shouts. ‘The kids.’
She’s managed to disarm the Blotter she’s fighting, but he’s got his hands curled around her neck. She knees him in the crotch and wrenches out of his grasp. I shoot him in the head.
She catches my eye, breathing hard, as he falls to the floor.
‘The other two went after the kids,’ she says, moving her hands to her neck.
‘How is that my problem?’
She looks at me as if I’m a piece of shit, then she turns and runs into the thick wall of mist.
And now I don’t know what to do.
Elle will be pissed if the kids die. That was the reason she ran off like a maniac in the first place. Can she look after herself for a few minutes while I sort this out? Probably.
I sigh as I head after Raven.
The mist is thicker than usual, and I can barely see. There’s a bang up ahead, and a woman cries out. Shit. I jog towards the noise, tripping over something on the floor and stumbling into the centre of a group. The teenage girl—Lucy, I think—swings a fist at my face. I throw her out of the way.
Someone is crying.
‘Raven, get up.’ A little girl’s tear-thickened voice behind me. ‘Please, get up.’
This isn’t good. I spot a Blotter ahead, and I push against the flow of kids, heading away from the body on the floor. Before he knows what’s coming, I grab his head and snap his neck. The other Blotter is on the other side of the group, a couple of heads higher than everyone else here. I shoot him, and he goes down too.
The kids scream at the gunshot, some of them throwing themselves on the floor, others getting too close to the Edge.
‘All right, calm down,’ I say as I head back. I shift the little crying kid out of the way and crouch down beside Raven. I exhale and arch an eyebrow. ‘I thought you were dead.’
She props herself up on her elbows. ‘You don’t sound very concerned.’ Begrudgingly, she takes my hand and pulls herself up. ‘Bastard shot me in the leg,’ she says through gritted teeth.
‘Well, I’m not carrying you.’
The corner of her lip quirks. Lucy rushes to her side and pulls her arm over her neck.
‘Elle’s okay,’ says Raven. ‘I ran into her when I got the kids. She’s been telling people there’s a tornado coming.’
Course she has. I walk towards the camp.
‘Blotter,’ shouts Raven. ‘Thank you.’
I raise a hand. ‘Didn’t do it for you.’
I edge along shipping container walls as I navigate back to the Circus. There’s a crowd of people, scared and bleeding, cowering by the tent. I grab elbows and peer into faces as I make my way through them, searching for her.
The Blotters yell at each other over the heads of the crowd—twenty of them in total. They’re searching for the Twist too. One of them yanks Sylvia forwards by her black ponytail and offers her the Creators’ mercy if she gives Elle up. She spits in his face, and he forces her onto her knees.
I can’t see Elle.
I can’t see Maggie either.
As I reach the tent, though, a cool breeze tickles my skin, and I still.
Because this is the Edge of the World. The Creators can’t send their weather here.
Silence falls over the Darlings even as the Blotters continue to shout.
The Blotters don’t know.
But we know.
I turn. Elle is standing in the gap between two trailers. Her hands are by her sides, palms facing outwards. Her eyes are closed. And her mouth is moving furiously, whispering.
Behind her, the mist from the Edge creeps forwards.
‘There’s a tornado coming,’ I hear someone murmur in the crowd.
Sylvia catches my eye. I believe it. So does she. So do the Darlings who are shifting, slowly, towards the refuge of the tent.
The breeze picks up. It whistles through the gaps between the shipping containers. It flaps the fabric of the tent. It carries the metallic scent of blood and makes the clouds at our feet dance.
Behind Elle, the mist rises, and her white hair whips her cheeks.
One of the Blotters notices her. But now, there is a tiny tornado behind her.
‘What the fuck?’ he says.
The other Blotters are realising something is not right too. As they scan the scene, the Darlings scramble to the tent for cover. One of the Blotters aims his gun at Elle, and I point mine at him.
But then Elle’s eyes fly open.
For a moment, time seems to stop. Her pupils are dilated—small, burning ink wells in the centre of fire. Her hair is blown out of her face. Her cheeks are flushed.
She is beautiful. And she is fucking terrifying.
Then I fall to my knees, dropping the gun and raising my hands over my head as debris rains from the sky. I can’t breathe. Elle moves her hands as if she’s grabbing the sky, and the tornado rips, breaking into smaller twisters that hurl fully-grown men into trailers and snap them like kindling.
I try to raise my head. Dust scratches my cheeks, and my eyes water. Elle is still amongst the chaos. Unharmed. Whispering. Eyes blazing. Then she closes her mouth.
The twisters retreat to the Edge of the World.
When the air settles, the walls are all smeared with ink, and bodies lie in the mist. The Blotters are gone. All of them.
Ears ringing, I get up. Elle meets my eye across the settlement.
‘Jay.’ She mouths my name.
Then she crumples to the floor.
A Circus of Ink Page 13
