Under the Never Sky: The Complete Series Collection

by Rossi, Veronica

  She worried about Talon. She missed Perry. There was nothing she could do about either except race to the Horns. Now, feeling a little guilty over her silence, she was trying—lamely, it was true—to make up for it.

  Roar frowned. “You’re sparing me?”

  “Yes, sparing you. All I’ve got right now is anxious nonsense. I’m exhausted, but I can barely sit still. And I feel like we should keep going.”

  “We can travel through the night,” he said.

  “No. We need to rest. See? I’m not making any sense.”

  Roar watched her for a moment. Then he looked up at the tree branches above them, his expression growing thoughtful. “Have I ever told you about the first time Perry tried Luster?”

  “No,” she said. She’d heard stories about Perry, Roar, and Liv all winter, but she’d never heard this one.

  “We were on the beach, the three of us. And you know how Luster is, how it sweeps you up. Anyway, Perry got a little carried away. He decided to strip down to nothing and go for a swim. This was right in the middle of the day, by the way.”

  Aria smiled. “He did not.”

  “He did. While he was out whooping in the waves, Liv took his clothes and decided it was a good time to get all the girls in the tribe to come down to the beach.”

  Aria laughed. “Roar, she’s worse than you are!”

  “You mean better.”

  “I’m scared to see you two together. So what did Perry do?”

  “He swam down the coast, and we didn’t see him until the following morning.” Roar scratched his chin, smiling. “He told us he snuck into the compound during the night wearing seaweed.”

  “You mean he wore a … a seaweed skirt?” Aria laughed. “I would give anything to have seen that.”

  Roar shuddered. “I’m glad I didn’t.”

  “I can’t believe you never told me that story before.”

  “I was saving it for the right moment.”

  She smiled. “Thanks, Roar.” The story had pulled her from her worries for a little while, but they returned too quickly.

  Gingerly, she pulled up her sleeve. The skin around the Marking was still red and scabbed, but the swelling had gone down. In some places it looked like ink had been smudged inside her skin. It was a mess.

  She reached out and rested her hand on Roar’s forearm. For some reason, this seemed easier. Maybe it took less courage to just let herself think than to speak her worries aloud.

  What if this was a sign? Maybe I’m not supposed to be an Outsider.

  He surprised her by taking her hand and threading his fingers through hers. “You already are an Outsider. You fit everywhere. You just don’t see it yet.”

  She stared at their hands. He’d never done that before.

  Roar gave her a droll look. “It’s just odd having you lay your hand on my arm all the time,” he said, responding to her thoughts.

  Yes, but this feels intimate. Don’t you think it does? I don’t mean that I think we’re being too intimate. I guess I do. Roar, sometimes it’s really hard to get used to this.

  Roar flashed a grin. “Aria, this isn’t intimate. If I were being intimate with you, trust me, you’d know.”

  She rolled her eyes. Next time you say something like that, you should toss a red rose and then leave with a swish of your cape.

  He gazed off like he was imagining it. “I could do that.”

  They fell into silence, and she realized how comforting it felt being connected to him this way.

  “Good,” Roar said. “That’s the idea.”

  His smile was encouraging. The last time I saw my mother, it was terrible, she admitted after a while. We were fighting. I said all the wrong things to her, and I’ve been regretting it since then. I think I always will. Anyway, I didn’t want to do that with Perry. I thought it would be easier to just leave.

  “And I’m guessing you were wrong?”

  She nodded. Leaving is never easy.

  Roar watched her for a long moment, the hint of a smile in his eyes. “That’s not anxious nonsense, Aria. It’s what’s happening. It’s truth.” He squeezed her hand and let go. “Please don’t ever spare me that.”

  When Roar fell asleep, she dug her Smarteye out of her satchel. It was time to check in with Hess again. For days, she’d been picturing Talon with his legs swinging over the pier. Now her stomach tightened as she remembered Hess’s threat. She chose the Hess icon on her Smartscreen and fractioned. When she saw where she was, every muscle in her body went rigid.

  The Paris Opera House.

  From her spot at center stage, she stood in stunned silence, absorbing the familiar opulence of the hall. Tiers of gilded balconies wrapped around a sea of red velvet seats. Her eyes traveled higher, to the colorful fresco nestled in the domed ceiling, lit by the brilliant grand chandelier. She’d been coming here since she was just a young girl. This Realm—more than anywhere—felt like home.

  Her focus moved beyond the orchestra pit to the seat directly in front of her.

  Empty.

  Aria closed her eyes. This had been her place with Lumina. She could imagine her mother there, in her simple black dress, her dark hair pulled back in a tight bun, a gentle smile on her lips. Aria had never known a more reassuring smile. A smile that said, Everything will be all right and I believe in you. She felt that now. A stillness. A certainty. Everything would work out. She clung to the feeling, locking it in her heart. Then slowly she opened her eyes, and the feeling seeped away, leaving questions that burned in the back of her throat.

  How could you leave me, Mom? Who was my father? Did he mean anything to you?

  She’d never have answers. She would only have an ache that stretched backward and forward and kept going as far as she could see.

  The stage lights clicked off, and then the audience lights. Suddenly she stood in blackness so complete that her balance wavered. Her ears thrummed to their full power, ready to seize any small sound.

  “What is this, Hess?” she said, annoyed. “I can’t see.”

  A spotlight sliced through the darkness, blinding her. Aria lifted her hand, shielding her eyes from the light and waiting for them to adjust. She could just make out the dark void of the orchestra pit below and the rows of seats beyond. High above, thousands of crystals from the grand chandelier twinkled.

  “A bit theatrical for you, isn’t this, Hess? Are you going to sing Phantom of the Opera to me?” On a whim, she sang a few lines of “All I Ask of You.” She’d only meant to play around, but the lyrics swept her up. The next thing she knew, she was thinking of Perry and singing.

  She’d missed the way the hall amplified her control and power. This stage had never been mere boards on which to stand. It was alive—shoulders that propped her up and lifted her higher. When she finished, she had to cover her emotion with a smile. “No applause? You’re hard to please.”

  His silence was going on too long. She pictured the small marble-topped table, the delicate saucers filled with coffee—all absent for the first time—just as an arrogant voice broke through the silence.

  “It’s good to see you again, Aria. It’s been a while.”

  Soren.

  Dead ahead, roughly four rows back, she saw a shadowed figure silhouetted against the darkness. Aria rolled onto the balls of her feet and breathed steadily as images flashed before her eyes. Soren, chasing her as fire raged around them. Soren, on top of her, crushing her throat with his hands.

  This was the Realms, she reminded herself. Better than Real. No pain. No danger. He couldn’t hurt her here.

  “Where’s your father?” she asked.

  “Busy,” Soren answered.

  “So he sent you?”

  “No.”

  “You hacked your way in.”

  “Hacking is something you do with a machete. This was a minor incision with a scalpel. Your mother would’ve liked that analogy. This is where you used to come with her, isn’t it? I thought you’d like coming back.”
<
br />   The amusement in his voice made her stomach churn with anger. “What do you want, Soren?”

  “A lot of things. But right now I want to see you.”

  To see her? She doubted it. Revenge seemed more likely. He probably blamed her for what happened that night in Ag 6. She wasn’t going to wait around to find out. Aria tried to fraction out of the Realm.

  “That won’t work,” Soren said, just as a message appeared on her screen, telling her the same. “Nice try, though. I liked the song, by the way. Touching. You’ve always been amazing, Aria. Really. Sing some more. I like that story. There’s a horror Realm about it.”

  “I’m not singing to you,” she said. “Turn the lights back on.”

  “He’s deformed, isn’t he? The Phantom?” Soren continued, ignoring her. “Doesn’t he wear the mask to hide how hideous he is?”

  There was another way out of the Realms. Aria shifted her focus to the real and curled her fingers around the edges of the Smarteye. She knew the pain of ripping off the device. A shocking ache that burned in the back of her eyes and ran like fire down her spine. She wanted out of there, but she couldn’t bring herself to tear it off.

  Soren’s voice pulled her back to the Realm. “By the way, that blue dress in Venice was deadly. Thoroughly sexy. And champ move with the coffee. You shocked the hell out of my father.”

  “You’ve been watching me? You’re disgusting.”

  He snorted. “If you only knew.”

  He’d toy with her as long as she allowed it. Aria took a few steps to the side, beyond the reach of the spotlight. Darkness settled over her—a relief this time. There. Now they were even.

  “What are you doing? Where are you going?” Soren’s voice climbed in panic, spurring her on.

  “Stay there, Soren. I’ll come down to you.” She wasn’t, really. Aria couldn’t see beyond the tip of her nose. But let him imagine her lurking in the darkness for a bit.

  “What? Stop! Stay where you are!”

  She heard a resounding thump-thump, like limbs sprawling. Then the lights came back—all of them—lighting up the lavish hall.

  Soren had stumbled into the center aisle. He stood there, keeping his back turned to her. His breath was ragged, and his thick shoulders strained against his black shirt. He’d always been solid muscle.

  “Soren?” One second passed. Two. “Why aren’t you facing me?”

  He grasped the seat beside him like he needed to steady himself. “I know my father told you. Don’t act like you don’t know what happened to my jaw.”

  She remembered and finally understood. “He told me it had to be reconstructed.”

  “Reconstructed,” he said, still facing away from her. “That’s such a tidy way to describe the five fractures and burns that needed to be fixed on my face.”

  Aria watched him, fighting the pull she felt to go to him. Finally she cursed herself for being too curious, and climbed down the stairs. Her heart beat wildly as she walked past the pit and up the aisle. She made herself keep going until she stood in front of him.

  Soren stared down at her with brown eyes that swam in rage, his lips pulled in a tense, grim line. He was holding his breath, just as she was.

  He looked the same. Tan. Big-boned. Handsome in a harsh way, the angles of his face just a little too sharp. He held his chin at a condescending tilt. She couldn’t help but compare him to Perry, who never seemed to look down at people despite being much taller.

  Soren hadn’t changed except for one significant difference. The set of his jaw was slightly off, and a scar ran through his bronzed skin, from the left corner of his mouth down to his jawbone.

  Perry had given him that scar. That night in Ag 6 he had stopped Soren from strangling her. She’d be dead if Soren didn’t have that scar. But she knew he hadn’t been in his right mind. He’d been affected by Degenerative Limbic Syndrome—a brain disease that weakened basic survival instincts. It was the same disease her mother had studied.

  “It doesn’t look that bad,” she said. She knew what it was like in Reverie. No one had scars. No one even had scratches. But she couldn’t believe what she was saying. Was she really consoling Soren?

  His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Not bad? When did you get to be so funny, Aria?”

  “Recently, I guess. You know, they’re all scarred on the Outside. You should see this one guy, Reef. He’s got this deep scar across his cheek. It’s like a zipper running through his skin. Yours is … I mean, you can barely see it.”

  Soren narrowed his eyes. “How’d he get it?”

  “Reef? He’s a Scire. Those are Outsiders who … never mind. I don’t know for sure, but my guess is that someone tried to cut his nose off.”

  Her voice rose at the end, making it sound like a question. She was trying to seem unfazed, but the brutality of the outside world seemed even more pronounced in such an elegant place. Aria studied his scar more closely. “Can’t you get your father to hide that for you in the Realms? Wouldn’t it just be simple programming?”

  “I could do it, Aria. I don’t need my father to do anything in here.” His voice rose almost to a yell. Then he shrugged. “Anyway, why bother? I can’t hide it in the real. Everyone knows I look like this. They know, and they won’t ever unknow it.”

  Soren wasn’t the same at all, she realized. His usual smug expression looked forced, like he was trying too hard to keep it there. She remembered that Bane and Echo—his closest friends—had died in Ag 6 the same night as Paisley.

  “I can’t talk about what happened that night, to anyone,” he said. “My father says it would threaten the safety of the Pod.” He shook his head, pain flitting across his face. “He blames me for what happened. He doesn’t understand.” Soren looked down at his hand, still gripping the seat beside him. “But you do. You know I didn’t do anything to you on purpose … don’t you?”

  Aria crossed her arms. As much as she wanted to blame him for what he’d done to her, she couldn’t. She’d learned about the disease in her mother’s research files. After hundreds of years in the Realms and the safety of the Pod, some people, like Soren, had lost the ability to cope with real pain and stress. He’d behaved the way he had in Ag 6 because of DLS. She understood—but she also couldn’t let him off easy.

  “I feel like that was an apology in disguise,” she said.

  Soren nodded. “Maybe,” he said, sniffing. “Actually, it was.”

  “Apology accepted. But don’t ever touch me again, Soren.”

  His eyes flicked up, the look in them relieved, vulnerable. “I won’t.” He straightened and ran a hand over his head. The softness she’d seen vanished, replaced by a smirk. “Did you know not everyone has DLS? I’m part of the crazy group. How’s that for luck? Doesn’t matter. I’m getting the meds. A couple of weeks and I’ll be ready.”

  “What meds? And ready for what?”

  “Experimental cures so I won’t go mental again. And immunization to outside diseases. They give them to Guardians who work on external repairs in case their suits rip or break. Once I have them, I’m coming out there. I’m done with this.”

  Aria gaped at him. “Out here? Soren, you have no idea how dangerous it is. It’s not like going to a Safari Realm.”

  “Reverie’s breaking, Aria,” he snapped. “We’re all coming out there sooner or later.”

  “What are you talking about? What’s happening to Reverie?”

  “Promise to help me on the Outside and I’ll tell you.”

  Aria shook her head. “I’m not helping—”

  “I could show you Caleb and Rune. Even the Savage kid you’re always asking about.” Suddenly his back straightened. “Gotta go. Time’s up on the scramble.”

  “Wait. What’s wrong with Reverie?”

  He grinned, tipping his chin up. “If you want to know, then come back,” he said, and fractioned out.

  Aria blinked at the space where he’d been standing, and then at the empty opera hall. An icon flashed up on h
er Smartscreen, taking the spot next to the one for Hess.

  It was the white mask of the Phantom of the Opera.

  19

  PEREGRINE

  It’s been a week,” Reef said. “You ever going to talk about it?”

  Perry leaned his elbows on the table. The rest of the tribe had cleared out of the cookhouse after supper hours ago, leaving only the two of them. The sound of crickets chirping at the night carried to his ears, and shafts of cool Aether light slanted into the darkened room.

  Perry ran his finger across the top of the candle between them, playing with the flame. When he went too slowly, it hurt. The trick was to go quickly. To not stop.

  “No. I’m not,” Perry answered, keeping his gaze on the flame.

  Over the past days, he’d cleaned and gutted fish until the smell of the sea seeped into his fingers. He’d stayed out on night watch until his eyes grew bleary. He’d fixed a fence, then a ladder, and then a roof. He couldn’t ask the Tides to work night and day if he didn’t do so himself.

  Reef crossed his arms. “The tribe would’ve turned against you if you’d left with her. And they would’ve turned if she’d stayed. She was smart. She saw that. Couldn’t have been an easy decision for her. She did the right thing.”

  Perry looked up. Reef’s gaze was direct. In the candlelight, the scar on his face looked deeper. It made him look cruel. “What are you doing, Reef?”

  “Trying to draw out the poison. You’ve got it inside you, just as she did that night. You can’t keep carrying this around, Perry.”

  “Yes. I can,” he shot back. “I don’t care what she did, or why, or whether it’s wrong or right, understand?”

  Reef nodded. “I understand.”

  “There’s nothing more to say.” What good did sitting around and talking ever do? It wouldn’t change anything.

  “All right,” Reef said.

  Perry sat back. He took a drink and grimaced. The well water hadn’t recovered since the storm; it still tasted like ash. The Aether had a way of invading everything. It destroyed their food and burned their firewood before it ever reached their hearths. It even seeped into their water.