Burn Bright

by Marianne de Pierres

  ‘More like what did you take,’ said another voice. Suki’s almond eyes swam into her view.

  ‘Suki, do you see them – the claws?’ Retra whispered.

  Suki’s fingers gripped her arm, nails biting her skin. ‘Don’t see nothin’ but him.’ She fluttered her eyes. ‘And I don’t mind looking at that.’

  Markes frowned. ‘What did you say about claws? What –’

  But then Cal and the crowd closed in on them, collecting Markes, urging him back to his guitar and the altar, and expunging Retra and Suki in their wake.

  As Markes climbed back to his seat the claws and wings vanished and Retra sagged back against Suki with relief. The world had come back, the smell of incense and the murmur of voices.

  ‘Markes,’ voices carolled. ‘Play for us. Play …’

  A girl in black silk shorts and a metallic tank top jumped up alongside him. ‘I’ll dance for you.’

  Cal tugged the girl down. ‘No you won’t.’

  The girl slapped at Cal but Cal ducked and kicked her ankle. Arms grabbed at them and bodies moved in between until Retra could barely see Cal or the girl at all.

  Suki forced a beaker of water into Retra’s hand. ‘Here.’

  She drank it, coughing a little. The water sank heavily onto her stomach and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

  ‘You gonna be sick?’

  Retra nodded.

  Suki pointed to a small, dark apse furnished with a large urn to one side of the side of the altar. ‘In there.’

  Retra ran a few steps and sank her face into the urn, heaving the water up. Her sight cleared properly and she realised her velvet dress had ridden up high on her hips and that her hair had come loose. She wrenched her dress down over her thighs, humiliated, and retied her hair.

  ‘Better?’ asked Suki. She stood behind her, unfazed by the vomit.

  ‘I think so. I’m sorry.’

  Suki shrugged. ‘People get sick. I’ve nursed plenty of ’em. What did you take?’

  ‘A Rapture p-pod.’

  ‘How much of it?’

  ‘He-he told me to eat it all.’

  ‘Modai gave you a whole rapture pod? No wonder you were about to do the la la.’

  ‘Is that the Riper’s name?’

  ‘Yeah, ’parently. Someone in the line told me about him while you were in there. Asmodai is the demon of lust and wrath and this guy is supposed to be his half-mortal son. Fits him, don’t you think?’ She glanced around. ‘The uthers will clean this up. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  Retra got to her feet and followed Suki out of the cruciform, leaving Markes and his audience behind them.

  Outside, different noises filled the damp air; not the normal night owl sounds Retra heard in Grave. These were more guttural, deeper.

  The climb to the platform seemed endless, the stairs stretching further and further before them. She grasped the handrail with both hands, using the solidity of the iron to guide her.

  ‘How do you feel now?’ Suki asked when they reached the top. She held Retra’s arm firmly, keeping her away from the edge.

  ‘Dizzy.’

  ‘You’re s’posed to have the pod in pieces over a week – or at least a few days.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Modai told me. Besides, it’s common sense. Just like taking our rock algae medicines at home. They mess with your head. Too much and you’ll eat rat gizzards thinking it’s sweet goo-berry pie.’

  Retra stared over at the dark edge of the platform. It beckoned to her but this time she resisted. ‘I think I’ll sit down.’ She tottered to a bench seat, welcoming the hard wood underneath her. ‘I feel strange still. Not myself.’

  ‘Well, while you are someone else,’ said Suki, dancing a few steps along the platform, ‘let’s party.’

  Suki talked about her home as the cable kar looped back onto the main lines and up the face of the crater. She chatted, feet up on the seat, admiring the twists of leather and lace on her new boots.

  ‘My town is called Stra’ha. It’s the highest town on the Stra’haman trail before the high path to the ranges. It’s so boring there, except for the caves. Draculins by the million.’ Her expression became wicked, one eyebrow cocked. ‘I signed a pact once in draculin blood with a boy from the low towns. He came to visit with his father to sell arms to the women.’

  ‘Women don’t use weapons in Grave. We’re not permitted to do … group things.’ Retra heard her own voice speaking sensibly yet the words might have come from another’s mouth. Her body and mind went through the actions of being her, but her deep mind, her imagination wandered elsewhere. In her hindbrain colours bled as she looked out into the night, and sounds thickened into lumps that she wanted to chew and crunch.

  ‘Grave. Yeah, I heard about that place from a boy at the re-birth. He was a kinda cute red-head. Sounds kinda weird there. He said you aren’t allowed to talk to others in groups in case you get outta control. You can’t dance or play music. Some places there are even worse than that apparently – they barely talk at all.’

  Retra nodded, not wanting to admit she was from one of them.

  ‘Anyway, there are only women in Stra’ha. It’s a woman’s town. The men don’t do so well with the altitude. It makes their spermies go sterile. The women have to go to the low towns to breed but they always come back to Stra’ha. They need to protect the men from the raiders who come across the ranges in summer or our people would die out.’

  ‘The women protect the men?’

  Suki looked at her. ‘Of course! Is it different for you?’

  ‘My father makes all the decisions in our house.’

  ‘In Stra’ha we only need the men for their spermies, otherwise … pffft.’

  Retra’s face burned at the thought. ‘Why did you come here then?’

  ‘Like I said … it was boring. And Liam … the boy I blooded with … he was coming here. We said we’d meet.’

  ‘Did he come? Have you seen him?’

  ‘He’ll be here. You can’t lie to a person when you’ve crossed with echo blood.’ But Suki looked uncertain for a moment.

  They sat in silence for a while and Retra’s mind was caught up marvelling at a band of vivid golden spirals dancing across the walls of the kar. She wanted to ask Suki if she saw them too, but was afraid she would sound crazy.

  Then the kar arrived at a station, groaning as it slowed.

  A group wearing white bandanas crowded through the open doors and Suki put her feet down to make room. They were laughing and singing and Retra wanted to rake her fingers through their words and lick them. She felt sure they would be juicy, tender in her mouth.

  A girl tumbled onto the seat in front of them. Hair redder than Rollo’s spilled out of her bandana, and she wore purple eye shadow up to the top of her eyebrows. Others went to sit next to her, then hesitated and moved on.

  As the tram doors began to close, a boy with spiky hair half-hidden underneath a white bandana sprang onto the bottom step. He slid his muscular arm between the doors, and the sensors froze them, halting the kar.

  He took his time climbing the remaining steps, looking around, checking out who was on board.

  A few of the other boys called to him and he saluted them. His movements were slow and deliberate, demanding attention; his hair shone as slick as the seaweed that washed up on Grave’s rocky beaches.

  Retra had kept some seaweed from her last trip to the beach, years ago, back when Joel wasn’t much taller than her and her mother still smiled.

  The boy dropped heavily into the seat in front of them, next to the red-headed girl.

  ‘Some entrance. He must practise it,’ said Suki too loudly.

  The boy swivelled round and stared at them. A quiet descended on the kar.

  ‘What’s ya name?’ he asked.

  ‘Suki.’

  ‘You gotta mouth, Suki. You wanna watch yourself.’

  Suki bristled. ‘You should do the same.’

&
nbsp; Retra was suddenly stuck by a premonition. She had to intervene. Prevent the rift. ‘Suki’s from Stra’ha,’ she said, suddenly. ‘She’s used to … telling males what to do.’

  The boy’s gaze shifted to her. His eyes showed intelligence and a lot of pride. ‘Who’re you?’

  ‘Retra.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m from Seal South. But you can’t catch it.’

  ‘It?’

  ‘Being a Seal.’

  He stared at her a moment longer and then he laughed. He didn’t take her hand but he turned back and slouched down in his seat.

  Everyone around them fell to talking again and Suki’s shoulders relaxed.

  Retra’s premonition slipped away.

  The red-headed girl with the heavy eye make-up climbed up on her knees and leaned over the back of her seat. She pointed sideways at the guy. ‘He’s Kero. He runs the White Wings,’ she said. ‘I’m Krista-belle. I’m with him.’ She sounded proud about that.

  ‘What’re White Wings?’ asked Suki.

  ‘Our gang. There are others too. White Wings, Ghosts and Freeks. We’re named after bats, but only the ones that suck blood.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘You’ll learn about ’em soon enough. Whites are the best though. We look after our own. Ghosts take anyone in, no trial, and no questions. And the Freeks are rad.’

  Retra heard without really listening. The girl’s words were taking shapes, flying from her mouth like butterflies. She wanted to reach out and catch them in her hand.

  ‘Main thing you newbies have to remember is to stay on the main strip. Don’t go walking the Lesser Paths.’

  ‘People disappear on the paths,’ added a guy from across the aisle. His head was shaved under his bandana. He sat on a girl’s knee and she groaned and giggled with the weight of him. ‘Even the League can’t save them.’

  ‘The League’s fearsome,’ his girl said.

  ‘No more fearsome than us.’

  The girl poked out her tongue. ‘Clash’s way more fearsome than you.’

  The guy ground his buttocks on the girl’s knee, making her groan louder.

  Retra forced her lips to make the word shapes. ‘Who’s Clash?’

  ‘You are brand newbies, aren’t you?’

  Before Suki or Retra could reply, Krista-belle clicked her long painted fingernails against the metal-work of the seat, calling attention back her way. She gave a smile that made Retra think of something warm and soft. ‘Ruzalia the pirate’s snatching Peaks – over-agers – and a new gang’s helping her do it. They’re calling themselves the Cursed League, run by Dark Eve and Clash. She’s huge, like a freaking bear, and he’s … hot.’

  ‘Settle down.’ Kero slapped her lazily on the rump.

  Krista-belle giggled. ‘When the Ripers catch up with them, they’ll be gone. Withdrawn early. Pfft!’

  ‘Clash and his gang can’t be too smart then. Sounds like a stupid, dangerous thing to do,’ said Suki.

  ‘The League say they’re thinking ahead. I mean, we all get to be Peaks eventually and the League thinks that withdrawal means abandoned, thrown off the island into some kind of wasteland. If they’re right, I don’t want to be wasted. I’d rather be with Ruzalia.’

  ‘What if they’re wrong? And why did you come here if you’re so scared of aging?’ Retra could tell Suki was angry still. Little waves of it rolled off her.

  ‘Didn’t seem to matter when I was a newbie. Getting older seemed so far away. I’ve been here a while now, though. You start thinking about it. ‘Specially when you see others disappear.’

  ‘Maybe being withdrawn means you get sent to paradise,’ said Suki.

  ‘We’re already in paradise,’ said the shaved-head guy. He poked his tongue out and waggled it around. It was stained black. He stuck it into the mouth of the girl he sat on. She gagged and dumped him on the floor of the aisle. Then she sat on him and stuck her tongue down his throat.

  Everyone laughed at them.

  Krista-belle hung further over their seat. ‘Hope you’ve got that right, Suki. But just in case you haven’t, I’m backing Ruzalia and the League …’ She rolled her eyes and dropped back down next to Kero.

  He moved closer and let his head fall down onto her shoulder.

  In a few more stops someone called out, ‘It’s the Drop.’

  The White Wings piled out, leaving the kar almost empty.

  Retra stood up and the world swayed. Golden spirals swirled across everyone, spinning on their skin and their faces, disappearing into their mouths. She thought she might be sick again. ‘Let’s get off here too,’ she said thickly. She needed to walk and breathe.

  Suki shrugged and followed her off the kar.

  Retra walked along a wooden bridge that led from the platform straight into the top storey of a square stone building.

  Suki reached for her hand. Retra had never held a girl’s hand before today. Seals didn’t touch each other very much. Mother had kissed her goodnight when she was young. That’s all she could remember. Yet, somehow, Suki’s touch made her feel better.

  Now that she was moving, the spirals had disappeared and sounds had become merely sounds again, not something she wanted to eat.

  Ripers stood waiting and watching on either side of the entrance to the club. One of them wore her hair in long black and white streaks. Her face was heavily scarred.

  ‘There’s Brand,’ whispered Suki. ‘She was on stage with Lenoir and Test at the re-birth. She’s creepy. All those marks on her skin.’

  Brand. Retra remembered her. The one who’d torn away her veil and tunic after Lenoir had spoken to them.

  As they walked past the scarred Riper, Retra’s fingers tightened on Suki’s. She couldn’t help it. It was that, or run back to the kar.

  The Stra’ha girl squeezed back. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘They’re here to keep us safe.’

  Once they were inside, though, Suki let go of her hand and began to jig. ‘Aaah … listen … I die over this song.’ She ran off ahead.

  Retra followed more slowly, taking in the top floor scaffolding and the ceiling decorated with light-reflecting streamers, and glitter globes that floated above her head. The balls shot off little beams, casting dotted patterns on the faces and limbs of the dancers below. An open-cage lift crawled up and down the side of the scaffolding, depositing newcomers on the dance floor on the bottom level and then returning to the top. On the other end of the floor was a narrow set of spiral stairs, but no one seemed to be bothering to use them, preferring to hang over the sides of the crowded cage.

  Suki glanced back at her once. ‘Don’t leave without me,’ she shouted, before she ran onto the lift.

  Retra watched her go, unsure of what to do next. The lighting was dimmer than Vank. Perhaps she could stay unnoticed and wait for Suki to tire of the place. But something about the music was impossible to ignore. The drumbeat crept into her chest and along her limbs. Like Markes’s guitar, it made her body want to move.

  She caught the next lift down, drawn to the source of it. Standing on the edge of the dance floor, she sensed the current feeding backward and forward among the dancers, skittering along their laughter and their casual embraces, linking them together.

  Some boy grabbed her arm. ‘Come on,’ he urged.

  She let him lead her out to the dance floor. The music seemed deeper, thicker out there. When she tried to copy the boy her movements were stiff, and clumsy, as if she’d been cramped in a small compartment for some time and now, suddenly, had been given space to move.

  The boy spun and jumped in front of her, encouraging her.

  She slowly followed his lead, letting her limbs loosen.

  Then the beat changed, pulsing faster and faster. The crowd surged in close and in one accord they began to jump, forcing her to do the same or be crushed. She bathed in the energy pouring forth from the moving bodies. Her heart beat wildly and heat radiated from the top of her head like a burning halo. Her hair came loose; bodies banged against her, and bore her up and down
as if suddenly they were one dancer, one sound, one heartbeat.

  She tore the band from her hair.

  A heart that beat forever; music that went on forever. So long that she lost her place in time, so long that even her altered metabolism began to tire, so long …

  And then, finally, it stopped. The music ended – torn away from her.

  The crowd slowed and broke apart, disorientated, lost without their purpose. Retra clung to the feeling, wanting it back. She had never felt so bright before, so shiny and large. But the boy she’d been dancing with had disappeared and the palm of her hand felt hot. She glanced at the faux badge. Had she been dancing for so long that she needed to rest already?

  Disconsolate and lost, she drifted among the crowd who’d gravitated to the drink stations. She looked at faces hoping to see Joel. But her head felt muzzy and the dimness made it hard to see faces properly.

  She took the cage lift back to the top level and wandered out through the entrance. Though the Ripers still leaned near the door, Brand was no longer among them and their scrutiny made her nervous.

  Should she return to Vank and rest? Or wait for Suki? The Stra’ha girl seemed so much nicer than Cal, but they’d still only just met. Was it possible to make friends so quickly? In Grave, the Seal girls only talked to each other when walking to and from Disciplines.

  One of them – Toola – would wait for her by the skeleton tree after prayers, and they would sit together and share goat cheese and sweetbreads. Toola always asked her about Joel; what he was like, what he talked about. Her eyes would shine when Retra answered.

  Then Joel left, and the warden was assigned to Retra’s family. Toola shunned her. After that she walked and ate alone.

  Retra’s thoughts shifted to Joel. If he’d asked her to wait somewhere then she would. Using that as her guide, Retra turned back into the club to wait for Suki, but instead of catching the lift, she walked across to the less-crowded spiral stairs.

  As she descended, the music bombarded her mind again, but the effects of the Rapture pod seemed to have waned, and she felt less inclined to dance. The badge on her palm still throbbed hotly, reminding her that she needed to rest.