Fragile Remedy

by Maria Ingrande Mora

  Reed stood beside the table, close to Nate, his hand warm and heavy on Nate’s thigh. Tremors ran through him, his nerves as hot as electricity. Nate wanted to touch him, to reassure him, but his mind raced. He had to put the pieces together, light up the fog in his mind.

  A realization struck him with a sting of betrayal. Another thing he should have known all along.

  “You sold Remedy to Alden,” he said.

  “You’re a clever one.” Agatha flashed her teeth. “Any Remedy in the Withers comes through me. I like to think of it as a service. It served you well until now, I imagine.”

  Brick held Pixel on her lap and watched them closely, her blue eyes clouded with worry. Her gaze darted to a door like the one at the stairway, heavy and locked with a massive hinge. Once again, a distant familiarity struck Nate.

  Reed’s fingers twisted into the loose fabric of Nate’s pants. “Why did you stop giving it to Alden? Nate almost died.”

  “To flush him out, of course. So we could help him,” Agatha said. “Not Nathan specifically, but any GEM Alden was hiding. Though it turned out to only be you. We had a deal that he would send any GEMs he acquired to us, and he did not keep that end of his bargain. We had to remove the middleman.”

  “Alden said we wouldn’t like what you had to say,” Reed said.

  Agatha placed her hand over her heart and shook her head. “A chem dealer with his own personal GEM? Of course he did,” she said, gentle. Pained.

  Alden had been shifty—always hiding something. The scrawled notes in his books. Telling Nate not to leave, not to be seen. It was too much to untangle, too much to consider. Had Alden selfishly kept him from his best chance at staying well? Of surviving?

  If Nate hadn’t left Alden for the gang a year ago, he may have never left the shop again, may have wasted away long before now.

  So of course Alden wouldn’t share him with Agatha.

  “What do you want from us?” Nate asked. Nothing was ever free. He couldn’t keep up. He was missing something, and when he missed things, that’s when the wires sparked up and bit him.

  “Let’s start at the beginning.” Agatha sat at the edge of the table by Nate’s boots. “You know what your blood can do. The magic of it. Correct?”

  “It’s not really magic.” Pixel wiped her nose. “Nate said so.”

  Agatha turned kind eyes on Pixel. “But it feels like magic, doesn’t it?”

  “He didn’t ask for a story.” Reed pulled Nate to the edge of the table and wrapped an arm around his chest too tightly.

  “Then let me skip to the story’s end. You came here because you’re dying.”

  “They brought me here.” Nate’s voice strained in his sore throat. “Alden sent us.”

  “Alden is an abuser. I shudder to think of how you must have suffered at his hands. But you’ll be safe now, with us.”

  Nate’s head spun. Agatha was so warm and concerned. Somehow nurturing, despite the predatory glint in her eyes. “Alden didn’t . . .” He rubbed the little sore spot on his finger where he’d pinched himself with his pliers. Alden had never hurt him.

  Had he?

  Reed made a bristly sound. “Don’t make it sound like you invited him over for gull pies. You tried to kill him!”

  “I did not try to kill him. We had no choice but to make him come to us.” Agatha studied Reed. “We didn’t make him ill. He was dying because Gathos City built a failsafe into the genetic code of GEMs so we couldn’t survive outside of their control.”

  Reed’s grip tightened at Nate’s shirt.

  “Gathos City never saw us as people,” Agatha went on. “So they never truly understood how dangerous we could be.”

  She wore baggy pants and a plain T-shirt like Reed’s, but there was something elegant about her—and something strong. Whatever she wanted, he had no doubt she’d find the means to get it. And her smile did nothing to soften the threat.

  Nate held on to Reed’s arm, trying to reassure him. He needed to know: “Do they really do terrible things to GEMs in Gathos City?”

  The answer was already in his bones, in the heart-pounding moments between waking and forgetting his nightmares.

  He needed to hear it, though, even if he had no reason to trust this woman.

  Agatha’s smile pressed into a tight line. “Yes. It’s worse than you can imagine. Worse than what people say. They take our bodies and do with them what they wish. What you would never wish for.”

  Alden’s words echoed in Nate’s head: They’ll take everything, Natey. Don’t you know that?

  But Alden hadn’t been talking about Gathos City. He’d been talking about the Breakers.

  “Tell us what you want him to do,” Reed said.

  “We’ve developed new purposes for GEM blood. New opportunities.” She turned her gaze from Reed to Nate. “I can offer you safety, food, and shelter in return for sharing your blood. And I will supply you with Remedy, of course.”

  Nate rubbed his eyes until he saw stars. The cold, clean table was familiar, like a fading scar, and he couldn’t place why. “I don’t understand. You want me to feed someone?”

  “Of course not. That’s barbaric. Our methods transcend the butchery our makers intended us for.”

  “You’re not taking his blood!” Reed grip stretched Nate’s shirt.

  “Reed,” Nate said sharply. His head was clear now. He could speak for himself. Agatha’s promise of shelter and food had gotten his attention. This could be his chance to keep the gang safe. Always. All he had to do was feed people—maybe heal them. She clearly cared about him. How bad could it be? “What kind of methods?”

  “Perhaps I should show you,” Agatha said. She offered Nate her hand and helped him off the table. He stared at where her skin touched his, struck by a memory of her touching him before this place, before any of this. But how could that be?

  Reed held Nate’s other arm, tugging him closer the moment Agatha let go.

  “It’s okay,” Nate said to Reed quietly, trying to reassure him.

  Reed’s fingers dug in to his arm. “Is it?”

  He shrugged Reed away, trying to think straight without worrying about Reed worrying about him. “I said it’s fine.”

  But as soon as Reed let go, emptiness followed.

  Agatha led them to a metal door opposite the one they’d entered. Brick helped Pixel off the couch, and Nate stared at the hinges. Shiny and thick, they didn’t look like any tinkering he’d seen in the Withers. She turned a small wheel, and the door unsealed with a sticky pop.

  “I don’t think we’ll wake her, but we should keep quiet,” Agatha murmured. She pushed the door open and let Brick and Pixel inside first.

  Agatha yanked a heavy switch on the wall, and Nate lost his footing. Reed caught him as he sagged, struck by the warped familiarity of the room. Rows of lights hummed from the low ceiling. Thin pipes lined the wall, towering over him and fanning out like veins. He spun, fighting the arms around him, looking for the blinking red lights that would mean the machine was about to turn on.

  Mom, do I have to?

  It hurt so much when the needles went in, even when he held very still, did just what he was told. They’d learn so much about the magic in him, his mother would say, because he was such a brave little boy.

  “Nate?” Reed grabbed his wrists. “Nate.”

  Coppery fingers reached to devour Nate. He blinked and sucked in a breath, shaking off the memory. The one he tried, always, to forget. “It’s fine,” he said, straightening with a cough.

  Reed stared at him, brow creased. He let go of Nate’s wrists and pulled him closer, brushing his lips at Nate’s hair. “I’m right here.”

  His solid warmth pulled Nate back into the basement, into the present.

  Nate took his hand, squeezed it tight. He’d been wrong to push Reed away. Nate needed
him close. Maybe they needed each other.

  The pipes and barrels and panels didn’t have any blinking lights on them. They were old—made of warped, hammered copper. The metal shone unevenly, patchwork pieces welded together. A gauge on the largest cylinder displayed numbers in units he wasn’t familiar with. The iron furnace glowed, its stovepipe reaching like a crooked finger and poking up through the low ceiling.

  The more Nate saw, the more he wanted to take it apart, coax secrets from the greasy gears.

  “What is this?” Reed studied the ceiling where thin pipes fanned out like a spider’s web. “What does it do?”

  “It’s a still.”

  “It’s beautiful,” Nate said, unable to disguise his admiration for the patchwork tinkering.

  “I wish I could agree, but it pales in comparison to what I could achieve with the proper materials.” Agatha rested her long fingers against a shiny metal panel. “It gets the job done.”

  “How does it work?” Nate forced his arms to hang at his sides. As much as he yearned to explore the machine, he didn’t want her to know that he was a Tinkerer. Not until he understood her plans.

  “The same as any still. With some modifications, of course.” She opened the panel with a delicate touch. Behind the metal door, glass tubes knotted together like clasped fingers, each full of tiny whirring gears.

  “That’s a Diffuser,” Nate said, drawn closer by the marvel of it. Where did they get such miniscule gear-work and fine glass?

  “On a grander scale, and not exactly.” She closed the panel, obscuring the buzzing tubes. “The still doesn’t produce as well as I’d hoped, but I’ll be able to make repairs and vast improvements with the new parts from the city.”

  Nate pushed a stray tickle of hair behind his ear.

  Produce what?

  Pixel put her arms around Brick’s waist. “I don’t like it in here.”

  “It’s because we’re underground.” Reed patted her shoulder. “We’ll go back up soon.”

  “How did you get new parts from the city?” Nate asked. He rubbed his cold hands together.

  Agatha gave a low chuckle. “They delivered them to us.”

  Brick let out a soft sound of alarm. “Is she sick?”

  Nate whirled to look for Pixel, expecting to see her swooning with fear, but she stood shivering and stubborn-jawed next to Brick. He followed Brick’s gaze to a stack of shallow bunks tucked behind the machine. The dim light cast heavy shadows, and he squinted to make out a lumpy form on the lowest bunk.

  It was a young woman. She slept on her back, one arm hanging limp over the side of the bunk.

  “Ah, that’s Juniper. She’s resting,” Agatha said. “I was about to get her started on intravenous fluids when you all came by to visit.”

  “She’s a GEM too,” Pixel said.

  The gentle scent of honey and warmth clung to the bunk where the woman slept. But she didn’t smell strong and healthy like Pixel and Agatha did, and the sweetness had an aftertaste to it—sour and sad. Juniper breathed very slowly, her mouth slack and pale.

  A dizzying mix of shame and dread churned through Nate. He must have looked like this every time he’d fed Alden.

  “Yes, little one. She is a GEM. She arrived a year ago from Gathos City.” Agatha drew the bunk’s curtain closed. The girl’s pale fingers peeked out, twitching. “We invested in her escape. She was a being kept by a family who not only fed upon her but used her in ways . . . well, in ways I wouldn’t discuss with a girl your age.”

  Nate wondered how many GEMs were still there—locked high in Gathos City’s towers. Alone. Beyond the reach of anyone willing to free them.

  Reed examined a shelf full of stacks of white plastic boxes. He stumbled back as if bitten and turned to Agatha, gaze hot. “This is chem. All of this is chem! I’ve seen it on the street.”

  “The very finest,” Agatha said. Her pale eyes gleamed. “Did you know that the majority of street-chem is laced with gasolex and cooked-down sludge? It’s utterly toxic. It’s killing people. This? This is safe.”

  Nate’s ears rang. He stared down at the floor where his boot rested against a drain shaped like a flower and flecked with dark-red stains. He’d seen those little boxes before too—tucked away in Alden’s private stash. And never sold to any of Alden’s customers.

  Every time Alden had shaken tiny pills out of the white boxes, he’d gone boneless and uncaring, too blissed-out to bother with the shop or Nate. The only other thing Alden had gone quite as empty-eyed for was Nate.

  Nate’s breath tripped, punched out of him by the realization. “You’re making chem with our blood,” he said, hoarse.

  “Chem. Medicine. It’s all in the eyes of the beholder. The people of the Withers are sick, Nathan. You know that better than most, don’t you?”

  “The last thing the Withers needs is more chem.” Reed was trembling, rage hot in his eyes. “This is the worst kind I ever saw—people did all sorts of shit for it, on it.”

  “But they felt so much better when they got it, didn’t they?” Agatha asked.

  A ropey cable hung from the machine at Nate’s eye level. At the end, a delicate silver prong swayed—identical to the tip of Alden’s Diffuser.

  He glanced at Brick. She stared at the curtain hiding Juniper and shuffled from one foot to the next, restless and caged.

  Pixel whimpered. “I want to go. This is a bad place. They’re going to hurt us.”

  “You’re perfectly safe here.” Agatha’s teeth were very straight. “The Breakers will protect you at any cost.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “The Breakers?” Nate recoiled, stumbling back into the sharp edge of one the bunks. There were so many along the wall. They were all empty. “You’re with them?”

  “Why do you sound so distressed, Nathan? Are you afraid of them?”

  Reed grabbed Nate by the sleeve and put his body between them. “Don’t play games! Are you?”

  Agatha gave him a long look. “This is a serious matter. I would never make a game of it.”

  “I’m not afraid of the Breakers,” Nate said, stepping out from behind Reed. It was a simple lie. He was used to lying.

  “Of course not.” Agatha’s mouth quirked. “I’m not threatening you, am I?”

  “Then you admit you’re with them.” Reed spat the words out.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, Nate willed down a sour wave of nausea. The chance to stay safe had been too easy, too good to be true. The Breakers weren’t just well-organized chem dealers. They were dealing chem made with GEM blood. Now Reed and Brick and Pixel were stuck in a basement with them, and it was his fault.

  I made Reed promise to take me here.

  “Admit I’m with them?” Agatha’s mouth quirked. “They’re with me.”

  Brick let out a low whistle and hauled Pixel onto her hip. “Stars. She’s the boss.”

  “She’s mean,” Pixel spat.

  Hysteria buzzed in Nate’s ears. He waved his arm at the stacks of chem and the giant still. The machine wasn’t made for healing people. It was made for creating chem that made people hunger so hard they’d do anything for it. Kill for it. Die for it. “You got away from Gathos City, and this is what you’re doing with your freedom? Pushing chem?”

  “And flesh,” Reed said with a snarl.

  “I’m cultivating power. There’s no such thing as freedom without it.” Agatha’s gaze bore into Nate’s, and everything else in the room went away. He saw his fears reflected there. The icy grip of machines, doors that were always locked—hunger on every face. “They can’t hurt us anymore if we have power. That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Nate’s voice stuck in his throat.

  Yes.

  Her lips curled into a satisfied smile. “That’s the world I’m building for us. I run eighty percent of the chem trade n
ow. I expect that to be ninety-five percent by the time Gathos City opens the gates. When they come crawling in, desperate for a taste of the GEMs they can’t afford, we’ll own them. They’ll be fiending for my chem within days. They’ll never control us again.”

  Nate shrank back, dizzy. He bumped into Reed and shivered. Her vision sounded perfect—safety, security. Freedom for GEMs. But not like this. Not if it meant hurting people.

  “I take it you don’t approve of our methods.” Agatha sounded disappointed, as if Nate was the one being unreasonable.

  Reed’s breath hissed. “Your methods? You’re blowing things up! You’re starting riots.”

  “We didn’t start riots. People did,” Agatha said with a light shrug. “We were simply trying to import better tech. Honestly, it was a bit of an overreaction for Gathos City to stop food deliveries over one little train wreck. But they did, and here we are, far more poised to succeed than I could have hoped.”

  “Succeed?” Reed asked, voice thick with disgust.

  “The trauma of starvation will linger even when bellies are full, and the Withers will need me more than ever. Chem makes people forget the chaos and tragedy of our world,” she said, as cold as Alden when he calculated the need of his clients. “It’s a gift. The train wreck helped me give that gift to more people.”

  “The train . . .” Nate’s hands went cold. The heavy door to the distillation room. That’s where he’d seen it before. He’d opened the same kind of door once—on the burning train car. He could still smell the sour ruin of burning hair and charred flesh. “You blew up the railway so you could scavenge tech from the trains!”

  “Gathos City puts the very finest technology into their transit system.” Agatha gestured to the door. “Let’s talk in the other room. I don’t want to disturb sweet Juniper.”

  “She isn’t moving,” Pixel said. She pointed with an angry wave and glared up at Agatha. “You hurt her.”

  Brick made a soft, hushing sound and carried Pixel out of the distillation room, back to where they’d started—where Nate’s sweat still shone on the polished table. The muscles at her arms twitched like she was fighting the instinct to run.