Lotus and Thorn

by Sara Wilson Etienne

  “For training,” Riya said.

  I sat up slowly, looking at my two friends, Oksun’s fierce square face untouched by sympathy, Riya’s hopeful but determined. Behind the pair of them, the Kisaengs were gathering. Not ten or fifteen—but sixty-some of them, arranged in four neat rows. Everyone, except Marisol’s circle. Then June glided into the lineup as well.

  I actually laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m living proof that those moves are worthless.”

  “No.” Oksun’s jaw was clenched, her compact frame braced for confrontation. She shoved a strand of hair behind her ear. “What you’ve proven is that all Kisaengs are vulnerable. And we must do whatever we can to make ourselves strong.”

  “And what about when it still isn’t enough?” I pushed myself to my feet, pointing to my face. Pulling up my shirt to show the red welts on my ribs. “How can I help them if I can’t even help myself?”

  “Fine.” A chord of anger shook Oksun’s voice. “Go ahead. Explain to them that it’s fun to pretend we’re fighters, but when someone beats the crap out of us, we just lie down and give up.”

  “Leave me alone.” My hands balled into fists. My legs were shaking, but at least they still held me. “You know nothing about this!”

  “Oh yeah? You think you’re broken? You think you’re pathetic? Well, I’m starting to think you’re right!” Oksun shouted the words at me, but it was Edison’s voice I heard. Edison’s words screaming accusations in my head.

  How could you?

  Rage numbed my body and I went for her. I punched—one, two—and lashed out with my foot.

  Oksun blocked it all. I swept my leg out again and she hooked it with her own. I fell backward and Oksun grabbed me. I thought she was catching me, but instead she yanked me forward and flipped me over her shoulder.

  But she didn’t slam me to the ground. She just held me there.

  Then Oksun lowered me gently to my feet, her eyes glinting with a savage anger. “You started something here. I won’t let you tell these girls it was all a lie.”

  Then I saw what I hadn’t before: This had happened to every Kisaeng. If not in violence, then in words. In groping hands. In the threat of disappearing.

  Riya squeezed my fingers, lending me her courage. “Come on. They’re waiting.”

  Then I was in front of them, every eye fixed on me. But there was no pity there. No disappointment. They stood with their chins up. Eyes somber. Waiting for my instructions.

  “Okay. Today is about truth. Sometimes your opponent is stronger than you. And no matter how fast you are, or how smart you fight, you still can’t win. But you still fight, in whatever way you can. So. Let’s talk about how to anticipate an attack . . .”

  • • •

  By the time practice was over, I felt stronger. Not to say that my sore muscles didn’t hurt more, because they did. But I was ready to figure out what came next.

  And the conclusion my mind kept coming back to was, before I did anything else—before I even came up with a plan or started surveillance or made a move against Edison—I needed to tell someone about what I’d found. In case something happened to me, someone else needed to know about LOTUS. After Edison . . . and Marisol . . . I hated the idea of trusting anyone else, but I couldn’t risk Taschen getting abandoned down there.

  Oksun and Riya were getting bowls of soondubu stew from the Sanctum food synthesizer. The spicy, homey scent made my mouth water as I pulled them aside. “We have to talk.”

  We carried our bowls to a quiet spot on the grass. While I tried chewing with just one side of my mouth, I figured out where to start. Finally, I looked at the pair of them and said, “I know where the missing Kisaengs are.”

  CHAPTER 34

  RIYA FROZE, chopsticks halfway to her mouth. Oksun put her spoon down. I had their full attention.

  I started with Lotus and the Indignos’ theory that the Curadores were infecting people as a form of population control. “When Jenner showed me the Genetics Lab, it was clear the Curadores had that kind of technology, but I still had no clue how they might be doing it. Or how to stop it. Then Oksun told me about the missing Kisaengs and I did some more digging.”

  I wondered if I’d have to explain about Nik, but apparently it was common knowledge that Edison had a brother living in the Gardens. The forest might be officially off-limits, but that simply made it an irresistible place to sneak off to for a rendezvous. So I told them about my visit and the files Nik had showed me. About the Kisaengs’ harvested ova and Olivia’s infected status. I hesitated when I got to the part about Oksun’s own pending status, but now seemed like the time for complete honesty.

  Oksun took it in stride, like it didn’t surprise her—and maybe it didn’t. Though I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. Finally, I got to the part with Tasch and finding the isolation rooms hidden behind the LOTUS door.

  I watched my own emotions play out across their faces as I described it. Suspicion. Horror. And in the end, outrage. Talking about the underground ward made its existence more awful and more bearable at the same time—at least I was no longer alone in this.

  “But wasn’t Taschen dead?” Riya said, trying to understand.

  “Lotus thought so, but obviously not,” I said.

  “Do you think Edison’s trying to find a cure for Red Death? Using Citizens and Kisaengs as test subjects?” Oksun asked.

  “Maybe. But here’s the thing . . . the Curadores don’t simply need a cure for Red Death.” My brain had been mulling this over for hours. I thought back to what Edison and Jenner had told me that first morning while the flys tested my blood. “They’ve been isolated for too long . . . they have no resistance to anything outside the Dome. Jenner as much as said they weren’t even bothering with Red Death anymore. Instead Jenner’s been trying to build some kind of uber-Curador who’ll be smart enough to fix the Dome.”

  “So what the hell’s happening down there, then?” Oksun asked.

  “Well, Nik told me that he and Edison gave up trying to fix things and were looking for ways to escape them instead. So the only answer I can come up with is that Edison is trying to create an uber-Curador as well. One that has all the right genes to make him immune to . . . well . . . everything.”

  “Is that even possible?” Riya twisted a bracelet made out of tiny plastic animals as she talked.

  “I have no idea,” I said.

  “We’re still sidestepping a huge issue here. If Edison is infecting the Citizens and if he is killing them off . . .” Oksun jabbed her spoon in the air for emphasis. “How is he also experimenting on them?”

  I shook my head. “Lotus said that Taschen’s symptoms had been strange. Like Red Death, but not. It’s what made them so suspicious about the outbreak in the first place. That’s gotta have something to do with it.”

  “Well, if I’m ‘pending’ I’m not about to wait around to learn the details firsthand,” Oksun said.

  “Agreed,” Riya said, nodding. Then they both turned to me. “So. What’s the plan?”

  • • •

  That afternoon, I could barely make myself step inside my bedroom. I’d been fine in the bright open of the Sanctum, conjuring up plans and strategies. But in here, the brutality of last night was still hanging in the air. Waiting for me.

  I threw open the doors of the front and back balconies, trying to purge the place while I started putting the room back together. Untangling blankets. Righting chairs. Sweeping ash back into the fireplace.

  Something glinted in the grate. I knelt down, groaning as pain shot through my hip, and I dug through the soot.

  It was a long, fringed filament. One of Grimm’s feathers. I pulled it out, feeling through the soft ash. Grimm’s body had burned and the thing that had been his brain had melted, but an array of thin metal wing feathers remained. I collected them all and took them out to the porch to b
rush them off.

  A movement in the woods caught my eye. Nik was standing there—just inside the tree line. Barely even bothering to stay hidden. Did he know what Edison had done to me? My heart clutched in my chest. Did he know that Grimm was dead?

  I held up a hand for him to stay put. Then, tucking all but one of the feathers in the bottom drawer of my dresser—where I’d stashed the book of fairy tales, Lotus’s necklace, and the scope—I went down to face him.

  The first thing he said when he saw me was “Thank God.” Immediately followed by “I’m going to kill him.”

  And he meant it. Nik’s eyes flashed and it was disturbing to see the same buried rage there that’d exploded from Edison. I took a step back, reminding myself that they didn’t just look alike. They were essentially the same person. Clones.

  “No. There’s been enough death.” And gently, I handed him Grimm’s feather.

  Nik’s head bowed as his ran his thumb across the feather, wiping soot from the silvery filament. But before his dreadlocks shrouded his face, I’d seen the tears there. And I knew I was wrong. Edison and Nik may have started out the same, but life had forged them into very different people.

  “I’m sorry.” I pulled Nik deeper into the trees so there was no chance of us being seen together.

  “He can’t do this and get away with it.” Nik glared at me. At the world.

  “He won’t. But things are going to get worse before they get better. If you want to help me get retribution, then I need to trust you. And I can’t do that until you answer some questions.”

  “Okay.” Nik held himself impossibly still—like he was afraid if he made the wrong move, I might send him away.

  “Yesterday, you told me about the laboratories down in the tunnels where you and Edison made Grimm.” Nik nodded again, and I went on. “Did you know he was still doing experiments down there?”

  Nik looked like he was summoning his courage. “I suspected. And yesterday, when I saw the files on the Kisaengs, I was afraid he might be using the place again.”

  “I found more than just Kisaengs down there.” I kept my voice neutral, my eyes on his face. I couldn’t help but hear Edison’s warning about Nik in my mind. A bad copy of me. Twisted.

  But there was real fear in Nik’s eyes. The yellow flecks burning bright. “Please . . . you have to tell me what he’s done.”

  I was convinced Nik had no idea about the captive Citizens, but there was still a shadow in Nik’s eyes—something he was holding back. For the second time that day, I relived the nightmare. Telling him about finding Taschen in the spiderweb of tubes and wires.

  “Oh God.” Nik’s whole body shook, but he wasn’t crying. It was more like the grief was quaking through him. And suddenly I wished I could hold him. Wished I could hold his pain for him.

  “This is my fault. This is all my fault. Edison’s experiments . . .” He touched the blackened feather in his hand. “Grimm. Even you.”

  He put his hand against my swollen cheek, barely brushing my skin with his fingertips—as if it hurt him to touch me. “This is why I stay in there!”

  “Edison infected the Citizens. Edison killed Grimm and attacked me. This is not your fault.” And I leaned into his hand where it cradled my cheek, turning my face to kiss his palm.

  He jerked away like I’d burned him. Stepping back. “You don’t know! You don’t know me.”

  “Nik!”

  But Nik was gone. Fleeing back into his trees. Leaving me alone.

  CHAPTER 35

  SLEEP DIDN’T COME that night. I held my knife close as I lay unblinking on the bed. Then on a blanket on the floor. Then the chair downstairs. Every noise, every imagined shadow held me hostage. And of all the things Edison had done to me, that was what I resented most.

  That he’d made me afraid.

  Dawn finally came, bringing the relief of light. I stumbled back upstairs and drew a bath—slipping down into the warm weight of it. Letting myself sink below the surface until the whole world was muffled and far away. But the comfort was short-lived. As I got out of the tub, I pulled the towel tight around me, careful to hide my battered body from the mirrors. But I couldn’t cover my face.

  Swollen and grotesque, my lip bulged out. A cut ran across my cheek. A bruise was purpling just under my eye.

  Edison had done this to me. This man who’d saved me in the flood in Tierra Muerta. This person who I’d let touch me. Who I’d touched in return. Who I’d told my most important stories to. He had turned and done this to me.

  And what about me? What had I done? I’d known something was wrong inside the Dome, I’d known that Edison had lied and kept secrets and still I let him distract me with his radio and his smile.

  No. I would not let Edison win. I would not hate myself for the things he had done.

  I made myself think about Tasch, waiting for me to come back for her. About all those Citizens lying in the LOTUS ward under the ground. About the missing Kisaengs, stolen before they’d barely had a chance to live.

  Anger seared through me, cauterizing the shame. I curled my six-fingered hands into fists. Dad had taught me long ago: Shame is like putting a weapon in your enemy’s hand and asking them to beat you with it.

  I would not give Edison any more weapons to use against me.

  CHAPTER 36

  IN THE SANCTUM, we stepped up to training with fighting sticks. A few at a time, the Kisaengs scoured the Salvage Hall for old chair legs, metal rods, anything that would work. We shared them out until they’d gathered enough weapons for everyone—working with sticks early in the morning when Curadores were least likely to wander by. Luckily, no one paid much attention to how Kisaengs passed the time.

  Within the walls of the Sanctum, though, I didn’t need to give an explanation for the added intensity or the added stealth. As far as the Kisaengs were concerned, my bruises were reason enough. There would come a time when I had to tell them the whole terrible story, but first I wanted them to have the tools to do something about it.

  Once June had weapons in her hands, she was a natural. Her arms were already incredibly powerful—since she used them for, well, everything—and her board allowed her to be unpredictable.

  After she knocked three girls off their feet, I stepped up. “Okay, then. Let’s see what you got.”

  June gave me an evil grin that didn’t quite match her glamorous appearance. She tucked her skirts into the straps that kept her secured to her board and said, “Let’s go!”

  We circled around each other, and I saw her immediate advantage. While I had to watch the uneven ground, June glided seamlessly. Trying to get a feel for her, I made my first move—swinging out with my right stick. She instantly dropped half a meter, letting the blow breeze right over her head.

  “Oh, you think you’re clever!” I grinned. I hadn’t had a challenge like this since sparring with Jaesun and it felt good to think on my feet.

  “No. I know I’m clever.” She was floating at waist height now and I jabbed down at her. Her board swung sideways, and she landed a blow in my ribs.

  June laughed, a deep hoot of pleasure. And I wondered if her usual calm softness was simply her own version of armor against the world.

  We continued to circle around each other dizzyingly. I jabbed here and there, only occasionally making contact. But June was relentless, her board zipping everywhere, driving me backward. Tension pulled tight around us, like the excitement of the Festival ring. And though I didn’t take my eyes off June, I knew everyone was watching us. They couldn’t help it.

  June was faster, but I had years of training and it didn’t take me long to learn her tricks. I lunged forward with my left stick, and like I expected, June dodged to the right. I let my weight carry me as I spun my left foot up, landing the full force of my kick right in her stomach.

  Her board flew backward, flipping over, and her straps
came loose. I cringed as June was thrown off the board, her body hitting the ground with a thud. It was awful.

  “June! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I dropped my sticks and rushed over to her.

  But to my astonishment, she was almost as quick across the ground—moving on her hands. Before I could even change my momentum, June was back on her board, sticks in hand, flying toward me in a retaliatory attack. A keening war cry flooded from her.

  Surprised and weaponless, I stumbled backward. But the ground was nowhere to be found. Flailing midair, I landed unceremoniously with an enormous splash in the creek.

  A huge cheer went up from the watching Kisaengs.

  “Surrender!” June cried, hovering above the water, grinning down at me. And sitting in the stream, sopping wet, I grinned too. Maybe the Kisaengs could be a force to be reckoned with.

  • • •

  Oksun was suspicious of the accelerated training regime. “It looks like you’re training an army. You’ve come up with a plan, haven’t you? Just when exactly are you going to share with the other children?” She was smiling, but it was clear she didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark.

  “All I know for sure is . . . whatever happens, it’ll come down to what it always does. A fight,” I said. “And to win that fight, we’re going to need more than the Kisaengs.”

  The group I was training had swollen from the original dozen to a consistent sixty or so. And with the new lessons, the atmosphere in the Sanctum had changed overnight. Marisol and her sisters no longer judged who should be able to keep what from the Salvage Hall. At dinner, Marisol’s disapproval no longer kept Curadores from seeking out certain Kisaengs. Marisol was back at Edison’s side—who thankfully had been keeping his distance—but she didn’t try to wield her power. At least not publicly. She had lost the support of the Kisaengs.

  Now I looked around us, at the sparring women filling the courtyard with the clack of fighting sticks and staccato shouts. It had been less than a week since we’d stepped up training, but the Kisaengs had already been strong, and they were getting stronger. They were eager students, but I had to admit that wouldn’t be enough.