Black City

by Elizabeth Richards

  Beetle passes me a newspaper through the bars. I scan the headlines. It’s mostly stories about the upcoming ballot for Rose’s Law and how people are looking to vote against it, disgusted at the treatment of the Darklings in the Legion and angry at the Sentry government over the Golden Haze plot. People can’t turn a blind eye anymore. Humans for Unity’s membership has gone up fivefold since, and change is in the air. I just won’t be there to see it.

  I turn the page, and my own face stares back up at me. “Hey, I made page three.”

  No one laughs.

  “Wow, why the long faces, everyone? It’s like someone’s died,” I say.

  “Ash,” Dad says.

  Day bursts into tears, and Beetle cradles her. I try not to look, jealousy burning through me. I wish Natalie were here.

  “We should go to our seats,” Beetles says quietly a minute later. “We’ll be directly in front of you. You won’t miss us, bro.”

  I hold Beetle’s hand through the bars, and he clings to it for a long moment.

  “I love you, man. You’re my best friend,” he whispers.

  “Hey, you’re gonna make Day jealous if you don’t let go,” I tease.

  Day attempts a laugh, tears streaming down her caramel cheeks. She holds on to Beetle as they leave. He manages to make it halfway down the corridor before he starts to cry himself.

  Dad kneels down on the hard concrete floor, and I join him in prayer. I try to believe the words about walking with the Lord in the Eternal Garden, or at least make them sound convincing for my dad. I know he needs this, probably more than me. I don’t think there’s a place in his heaven for people like me, but I’m okay with that. Maybe I’ll go to the Elsewhere, with Mom?

  I’m so grateful Dad’s here with me right now. For years I wondered what it would be like to have a Darkling father, someone who truly “understood me,” but I realize now that man was with me the whole time. I couldn’t have asked for a better dad. He took care of me, he loved me, and he never abandoned me no matter how tough life got. I’m proud to be his son.

  I hear Harry’s keys jangling against his leg before I see him. He hovers by the cell door.

  “It’s time, kid,” he says solemnly.

  Dad helps me to my feet. I lean on him a little. My shoulders feel heavy all of a sudden, my feet leaden. The sunlight shines through the small window of my cell. It prickles my skin, but it’s a good sensation, reminding me I’m still alive.

  “Nice day for it,” I say to Harry.

  He grimaces.

  “You need to leave your clothes here,” Harry says, looking at his feet.

  I shrug off the shirt and trousers, grateful to get the itchy material off my skin. I don’t mind it so much. There’s a freedom to being so exposed. I like how the cool air feels against my bare skin. I sling the linen modesty cloth around my waist; there will be children watching, after all.

  “Any messages?” I ask hopefully.

  “Sorry, kid.”

  I have to accept she’s not coming. I’m never going to see her again. I turn to Dad, who is busy picking up my discarded clothes and folding them into a neat pile on my bed, delaying the inevitable. A tear trickles down his craggy face.

  “Dad?”

  He hurriedly wipes his eyes. “Yes?”

  “Take care of Natalie for me. I’ve asked Sigur to do the same. Make sure she’s all right. Promise me.”

  “I promise,” he says.

  His sad eyes trace the contours of my face, and I know he’s trying to commit me to memory. I can’t believe how much he’s suffered, first losing Mom and now me. This is worse for him in some ways. No one should have to see his kid die.

  Harry holds out the shackles.

  “Just a second.” I turn over Dad’s discarded playing cards on my bed, and I grin. So he did let me win!

  Harry shackles my wrists and ankles and leads me down the long corridor to the awaiting transfer truck outside. Faceless prisoners poke their fingers between the bars of their cells as I pass, reminding me I’m not alone. Dad walks a few paces behind me, silent. The time for prayers is over.

  42

  NATALIE

  I PUSH THROUGH the bustling streets, desperate to get to the town square nearly a mile away. It’s already taken me ten minutes to get this far, and I’m barely around the corner from Day’s house. I’m not going to make it, and panic starts to set in. There has to be a better way.

  Ash’s execution is being broadcast live on the large monitors on the rooftops. He’s brought into the town square. He looks scared, although he’s trying to hide it. His sparkling black eyes flick toward the camera, and it’s like he’s looking directly at me.

  “Ash, I’m coming!” I cry out.

  People around me turn and their eyes widen. They all start pointing and chattering.

  “It’s her—”

  A shadow crosses the sky. People around me scream. A pair of iridescent wings sparkles in the sunlight above me, and I see it’s Sigur. He swoops down into the crowd and people flee. I cower away from him.

  “I am not going to hurt you,” he says.

  I laugh. “You tried to kill me.”

  “Yes, I did,” he says. “But that’s not why I’m here now.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “My one regret in life is not having been with Annora when she passed into the Elsewhere. Ash needs you, now more than ever.”

  “How did you know where I was?” I ask.

  “Ash requested I keep watch over you,” he says. “When you were not at your home in the Rise, I came looking for you.”

  He stretches out a pale hand.

  “Come, I will take you to him,” he says.

  I look at Sigur, then at the crowd blocking my path. I’ll never get to Ash in time, not on foot. This could be my only chance. I take Sigur’s hand, and he pulls me into his arms so we’re chest-to-chest. His wings flap once, twice, then we’re soaring above the city. The cold air whips against my face, and I wrap my legs around his long, lean torso, clinging on for dear life, adrenaline pumping through my veins as he goes higher and higher toward the clouds. I dig my fingernails into his icy-cold flesh. I’ve never flown Darkling Airways before, and it’s terrifying. I keep thinking he’s going to drop me, either by accident or deliberately.

  My heart pulses erratically as we near the town square, but I soon realize it’s not my heartbeat I’m feeling—it’s Ash’s.

  43

  ASH

  THE ROAR OF THE CROWD is deafening as I step into the town square. I nearly throw up when I see the crosses, three of them, lined up near the wall. Which one will be mine?

  Dad takes a seat beside Beetle and Day in the viewers’ box next to the school, where the rest of the VIPs are watching. I know they don’t want to watch this, but they’re here for me. I check the faces in the crowd for Natalie, but she’s not there, although I do spot her housemaid, Martha, swathed in black cloth, hiding toward the back. I give her a weak smile, although I doubt she can see it, grateful that she’s taking such a risk to be here.

  The Legion guards stand on the Boundary Wall, and I expect Sigur to be with them, but he’s not. A figure in a blue cloak darts down one of the side streets, and for a second, I wonder if it was Evangeline, but I’m sure she’s long gone from the city. It’s probably a good thing; I don’t want her watching me die and knowing there’s one less twin-blood in the world, that our kind is one step closer to extinction.

  A strong breeze stirs the ash on the charred buildings surrounding us, scattering black flakes into the air. I feel like I’m inside a giant snow globe. It’s really quite beautiful; why had I never noticed before?

  Sebastian approaches the middle cross, dressed in his ceremonial Tracker uniform, comp
lete with glistening medals. I notice the golden rose medal is gone. I’m guessing he was demoted after he was caught “lying” on the stand. That gives me a small amount of pleasure, especially since he was actually telling the truth. He looks older than his years, with his shaved head and rose tattoo and the harsh, stony expression on his face. Behind him a minister is dousing the cross with acacia solution. The fumes make my throat constrict. So I guess that’s my cross.

  Sebastian’s green eyes flick up to mine and hold steady. “It’ll make it much faster, nipper. Not that you deserve it,” he explains.

  By “it” he means my death. They obviously want it to be quick for the audience at home watching on TV—nothing’s more boring than a slow execution.

  “I’m going to relish watching you die,” he says. “I hope you burn like the others.”

  I try to swallow, but my throat feels scratchy and dry. I remember Jana bursting into flames, and I just pray that doesn’t happen to me. My allergy to acacia isn’t quite as severe as full-blooded Darklings, although in these quantities, I’m not so certain. But maybe I’ll get lucky. I laugh at the ridiculousness of that thought. Lucky? I’m about to be crucified.

  Sebastian turns to the audience and reads from the scroll, his voice carrying across the town square.

  “For the crime of killing the Tracker Gregory Thompson, Ash Fisher has been sentenced to death by crucifixion.”

  My knees feel like jelly, and it takes all my willpower to stay standing. I don’t want to look scared, not with the whole country watching. I need to be brave. I can do this.

  I wish Natalie were here.

  The audience starts to murmur, getting agitated, reminding me of the last execution that took place here. I glance at the school’s clock tower to my right. One minute until midday; the show’s about to start. I peer over at the viewers’ stand again. Dad’s holding back the tears, trying to be brave for me. Beetle’s hugging Day. Sigur still isn’t here, and neither is Natalie, but I’ve given up hope she’ll come.

  The clock chimes.

  One . . .

  The crowd falls silent.

  Two . . .

  My shackles are removed.

  Three . . .

  The cross is lowered.

  Four . . .

  I’m bound to the cross with silver chains. They scorch my skin.

  Five . . .

  The acacia fumes fill my lungs, choking me.

  Six . . .

  The minister says a prayer over my body.

  Seven . . .

  The guards grab the ropes holding the cross.

  Eight . . .

  They winch the cross upright.

  Nine . . .

  My heart pounds loudly.

  Ten . . .

  Dad’s sobs ring out across the square.

  Eleven . . .

  An image of Natalie flashes across my mind.

  Twelve . . .

  “Stop!”

  44

  NATALIE

  SIGUR LANDS IN THE CENTER of the crowd, and sets me down.

  “Stop!” I shout again.

  “Natalie!” Ash calls out, his voice cracked.

  The crowd parts as I run toward him. Sebastian cuts me off, grabbing hold of me, but Sigur growls at him, baring his long fangs. Sebastian lets me go.

  I reach the cross and stare up at Ash. He’s gasping for breath, his skin already blistering from the acacia wood. Tendrils of smoke start to caress his arms, turning them black.

  “Ash, I love you!” I call up to him.

  His skin crackles. The acrid smell of scorched flesh stings my nostrils as flames start to flicker out of his burned skin.

  I stretch up a hand and touch his feet—it’s the only part of him I can reach. My heartbeat speeds up as his gets weaker by the second.

  “Fight, Ash! Please, I love you. Don’t leave me.”

  The flames suddenly erupt, tearing down his arms, engulfing them in a raging ball of fire. Vivid yellows, oranges and reds melt into one another as the flames coil and twist into the sky, fanned by the wind. They blaze like wings, terrifying, beautiful. A phoenix rising from the ashes.

  The crowd gasps.

  Ash struggles for breath, his chest shuddering with the effort. His glittering black eyes flick down and catch mine. Flakes of ash float around him.

  “I love you,” I say again. “I—”

  45

  ASH

  “—NEED YOU, PLEASE, don’t leave me, Ash,” she says to me.

  The molten heat along my arms is like a thousand daggers slashing my skin, making every nerve ending explode in agonizing pain. The sensation is almost unbearable as the flesh is scorched from my bones, but still I refuse to cry out.

  “I love you!” she says again.

  She shouldn’t be saying this, not here, not in front of the cameras. She follows my gaze and glowers at the TV reporters.

  “You heard me! I love him. I love a Darkling, and I’m not ashamed of it. We haven’t done anything wrong.”

  “Natalie, no . . . ,” I stammer.

  Agitated murmurs spread across the crowd. This isn’t the same crowd that watched Jana and Tom die. These people have seen too much over the past weeks; their eyes have been opened. One by one, they turn their backs to the stage, refusing to watch me die just like the Legion guards did during Jana and Tom’s execution. Purian Rose has the power to execute us, but he doesn’t have the power to make us watch. It’s a small but significant protest against the Sentry. I know that somewhere in Centrum, Purian Rose is having a seizure.

  Natalie touches my feet again, sending a jolt of electricity through my body, which sparks my heart. It beats more powerfully for a second, joining the rhythm of her own.

  I take an unsteady breath. The air barely reaches the walls of my lungs. I can feel them closing up.

  No, not yet. I’m not ready.

  “It’s all right, Ash,” Natalie whispers. “I’m here. You’re not alone.”

  Our hearts flutter in unison, and I focus on their comforting beat.

  Then a sensation like winter’s chill creeps up my legs and into my stomach as Death’s grip takes hold.

  It’s happening.

  “Ash, no,” she sobs.

  “It’s okay,” I say.

  Ba-boom ba-boom ba-boom.

  “Stay with me,” she says.

  Ba-boom ba-boom.

  I rasp for air, but my lungs remain hollow.

  “I love you, Ash.”

  Ice fills my heart.

  Ba-boom . . .

  46

  NATALIE

  I KNOW he’s dead. His heart’s stopped beating inside me.

  I lower my hand.

  Sebastian indicates for the guards to douse the flames. He looks at me with cold, cruel eyes, a malicious grin on his lips. He got what he wanted. Ash is dead. The people in the crowd turn to face the stage once more, wanting to watch Ash being removed from the cross. I stare directly at the nearest television camera.

  “This is a message for Purian Rose. I’ve realized something about you. You’ve terrorized us, turned families against each other, made us fear the Darklings, and why? Because without fear, you have no power,” I say. “Well, I’m not afraid of you anymore. I will not live my life in fear. From this day on, you have no power over me or the people of this city.”

  Beetle stands up and pumps his fist in the air, shouting, “No fear, no power. No fear, no power!”

  His protest call is picked up by the rest of Humans for Unity, then the crowd, before sweeping across the whole city like rolling thunder, thousands of voices chanting in unison, “NO FEAR, NO POWER! NO FEAR, NO POWER!”


  I face the cross again. Ash is now lying on the ground, his arms and chest blackened and burned. Sebastian roughly peels the silver chains off Ash’s wrists and ankles; the metal has seared into his skin, and I cover my mouth to stifle a sob.

  Minister Fisher, Day, Beetle and Sigur join me. We all watch in silence as Minister Fisher cradles his son’s body and lovingly strokes Ash’s hair. I expect it to stir and coil around his father’s fingers like it normally would, but it remains still. Everything about Ash is so still.

  Day and Beetle hug me. I choke back the tears.

  “We should get him ready for So’Kamor,” Sigur says softly.

  Ash’s dad shakes his head. “He’s having a human burial. It’s how he was raised.”

  Sigur doesn’t argue.

  Sebastian hovers nearby. A wooden cart has been brought over to take Ash’s body away.

  “I want to say good-bye first,” I say.

  Minister Fisher gently lays the body back on the ground, and I kneel beside Ash. I move a strand of hair away from his closed eyes. He looks so peaceful, you’d almost think he was asleep.

  “So begins my heart, so begins our life, everlasting,” I whisper.

  I press my lips against his.

  A powerful jolt of electricity passes between us. It zings through my body, straight into my heart.

  I gasp.

  A second, faint heartbeat joins mine.

  I grip Ash’s hands, and the heartbeat gets stronger.

  Please, please, please.

  His eyes flicker open.

  EPILOGUE

  ASH

  NATALIE SLINGS MY BANDAGED ARM around her shoulder and supports me as we leave the hospital. The burns will never fully heal, even with my Darkling regenerative abilities; I will always bear the scars of my execution. It’s been a few days since my “miraculous resurrection,” as the papers are calling it. Of course, Natalie and I know the truth. When my heart stopped beating, it triggered the dormant Trypanosoma vampirum in my blood, which kept enough oxygen circulating in my body to stop brain death. Then when Natalie kissed me, it reactivated my heart and . . . well, here I am.