Nate is in there, I think. A tool—that’s what Leader Cross called him. Not a human with feelings and fears, but an object to be used, then discarded. How long before his execution?
I don’t know why he killed Leader Sarwald, but he didn’t act alone. My Family was involved. I stare up at the brick building and long to see Nate. But I won’t see him until his execution when I join my community to watch him die.
Sighing, I turn away from the jail.
I’ve only taken a few steps before the sound of a door opening causes me to whirl around. The Uniforms standing guard slide aside and bow with respect as a woman leaves the jail. She lifts a corner of her shining gold and purple robe as she descends the stairs. Her hair is pulled back, her skin showing fine lines of age, and her expression is distant, as if her thoughts are far away.
What is Scientist Lila doing at the jail?
NINETEEN
Lila shouldn’t be here.
It was strange to see scientists at the Celebraze and Sunday Fair, but visiting the jail? This goes against all I’ve been taught about the separation of Families and scientists. The scientists’ compound is a community of its own, with secrets and locked doors. Scientists take no active role in the community.
“Jennza, is that you?”
Lila Farrow’s commanding voice stops me before I can move away. She smiles at me as if we’re close friends. I can’t smile back. Did she see Nate in the jail? Has he been tortured? Did he tell her about Leader Cross and the others who conspired to kill our Head Leader?
“Jennza, what a nice surprise.” Lila comes up beside me, putting a gloved hand over my arm. “But why are you out alone?”
“I had a fitting.” I glance toward the fashionizing shop, plucking at a corner of my faded white tunic. “Rosemarie says I lack suitable coverings.”
“You deserve new tunics and much more. I hope you’re adjusting well to your Family.”
Her mouth twists when she says “Family,” and I wonder if she still disapproves of me being Chosen by the Cross Family. I don’t understand her interest, but a burst of hope rushes through me. Scientists are all-powerful, and if they make a decision, even if it’s against rules, leaders must obey. If Scientist Lila asks again if I want to be in the Cross Family, I’ll tell her the truth.
She points to my head. “The Cross Family scarf looks good on you.”
“I’m not so sure.” I hesitate, searching her face for a sign that she might still want me. “The black cross on red fabric isn’t very … um … interesting.”
“It depends how you wear it.”
“I’d rather tie my hair with colored bands or wear it loose … is there a way to … to wear my hair however I choose?”
She arches her brows. “You’ll have to ask Rosemarie. She knows more about fashions than I do.”
There is a closed door in her expression. She gave me one chance and I ripped it. There are no second chances.
“I’ll ask her,” I say with a forced smile.
“I hear you are becoming a skillful house-crafter. You have a long, useful life ahead of you.” She looks back at the jail, and her lips purse as if she’s thinking of something distasteful. “I’m glad for you, Jennza.”
I hide my disappointment with politeness. “Thank you. But I’m called Milly now.”
“Of course … Milly.” She studies me. “Where are you headed?”
“My ride hasn’t come yet, so I’m taking a walk.”
“Rosemarie is late?” she asks. “She’s usually more responsible.”
“Not Rosemarie. Daisy drove me.”
“Ah … Daisy. You may have a long wait,” Lila says with a sly smile, so I know she’s heard the rumors about Daisy too.
“I don’t mind. I enjoy seeing more of City Center,” I say.
“What’s to see? Dull boxy dwellings.”
“It’s not dull to me. I like exploring.”
“As I do too. But I’d rather explore a natural vista of sky, trees, and sea. All the buildings here look alike.”
“Except the one you left.” I point at the jail.
She nods solemnly. “It’s a grim place I’d rather stay far from.”
I raise my brows in question. “But you were inside.”
“Sometimes it’s necessary to get involved with the community.” She tilts her head, studying me. “Yesterday we witnessed a shocking tragedy, but the Nocturne is behind bars, so there’s no reason for you to be afraid.”
“I’m not.” At least not for myself.
“Of course not, fearless Jennza.” She touches my cheek softly. “When I first saw you on the stage at the Celebraze, I could tell you were strong-willed and independent. I think you would find my compound interesting, and someday I’d like to take you there for a walk along the sea cliff trails.”
“Really? Could you do that?” I ask, surprised because no one ever visits the scientists.
“I usually get what I want. But don’t speak of this to anyone.” Her brown eyes brighten to yellow-gold as she brings her finger to her lips. “My fellow scientists didn’t want me to come here, but I feel a responsibility to our community and wanted to offer my support on behalf of all scientists.”
Something in her tone, an urgency mixed with excitement, makes me ask, “Did you see the prisoner?”
She peers at me as if she can hear my thoughts, and I squirm uneasily under her golden gaze. I shouldn’t have asked a scientist something so rude. But nothing I’ve been taught about scientists fits the way Lila treats me.
“What do you know about the Nocturne?” Lila asks me.
I shrug. “Nothing.”
“Are you sure? At the playformance, when Grand Sarwald fell, everyone focused on helping him—except you. You were fixated on the Nocturne,” she says in a tone too casual for her barbed-wire words.
“I don’t remember that—only my shock. I stared at Grand Sarwald too, until I was too sad to look anymore.”
“There’s something more you aren’t disclosing.”
I make a face of complete innocence, which I’ve perfected from childhood. Wide eyes, arched brows, and slack mouth. Even Instructors who know I did wrong doubted my guilt. But Lila peers intently into my face.
“I feel a connection with you, Jennza,” she says softly. “When we met, I sensed we were very much alike—adventurers, leaders, not followers. I know most Instructors were tough on you, not understanding your need to question rather than conform. I understand how that feels, and I will honor any secret you share with me.”
Her silky words spin a web around me, and I’m tempted to unload all my worries on her steady shoulders. Still, something holds me back.
“I don’t have any secrets.”
“You can trust me,” she says. “Speak freely about whatever is on your mind. Are you troubled by Grand Sarwald’s death?”
I glance away, sighing. “It doesn’t seem real.”
“Sadly, it’s too real.” Lila shakes her silvery head. “Grand Sarwald was a dear friend, and I’m sorry that I’ll never speak to him again. I already miss him.”
“But his memories were saved,” I say, wanting to comfort her. “He can be born again in a youth.”
“Perhaps ….” She bites her lip, then glances up at the sky. “Scientists believe the essence of a person is stored in memories.”
“Essence?” I repeat. “Is that the same as soul?”
She touches my cheek softly. “What does a youth like you know of soul?”
“Not much.” I shrug. “What is it?”
“No one really knows, not even scientists, although we may say we do. It all comes down to faith.” She sighs. “You would think a long life would mean knowing the meaning of everything, but time only gives us more time to ponder over questions.”
I look at her curiously, having no idea what she means.
“Apologies if I’ve confused you,” she says. “What happened yesterday has shaken me. I can’t forget the look on Grand Sarwald’s fac
e as he collapsed.”
“I can’t either,” I admit, although it’s not Grand Sarwald I can’t forget. It’s Nate—his cloak falling back, his shock to see me, and his gaze pulling me in like an undertow.
Lila glances again at the jail, frowning. “We need to protect ourselves from outsiders. Apparently the Gate and Fence aren’t enough. The Nocturne’s execution will send a strong warning to others like him.”
I shift uneasily. “Has he … um … told anyone why he killed our leader?”
“He hasn’t spoken a word.”
I nod, struggling to stay calm. “Has it … the execution … been scheduled?”
She nods. “Two days.”
I can barely breathe. I want to plead with her to save Nate. He may be a killer, but there’s good in him too, or he wouldn’t have offered to help Petal, or saved me from the vampfish. I owe him my life.
I’m trying hard to hide my emotions, but tears sting my eyes. I turn away.
“What’s wrong?” Lila’s arm comes around me tenderly. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Seeing one death was bad enough ….” My words trail off in a sigh.
“I’ve never approved of the Leaders’ insistence that all citizens witness executions—not that we’ve had very many. Only three in this century. I would gladly excuse you from going, but I can’t interfere in such matters. Don’t waste sympathy on our enemy.”
“But he’s so young,” I say. “Isn’t there a less violent punishment?”
“The laws state that punishments match the crime. You have a kindly heart, Jennza,” she says with a deliberate emphasis on my youth name. “I hope you’ll think of me as a friend.”
She leans so close I inhale her flowery perfume, the scent that made me realize she spied on me after the Celebraze. I know I shouldn’t trust her, yet she makes me feel valued, as if my thoughts and feeling are important. But why did she show unusual interest in me? Scientists don’t notice youths—not without a reason.
I look down to the paveway, where a scraggly weed has broken through a crack in the hard surface. If I told Lila about the conversation I overheard in the Cross cellar, she’d know Nate didn’t act alone. But would she help him?
“Are you afraid of the killer?” Lila asks, mistaking the reason for my silence. “I assure you, there’s no way for him to escape.”
“Has anyone ever escaped?” I ask hopefully.
She shakes her silvery head. “Uniforms are posted at all entrances and cells have locked steel doors. The prisoner is in the most secure cell at the far back of the prison. Even if someone tried to help him escape, they’d never get into the jail. So be assured, there won’t be any more killings.”
Except Nate’s, I think sadly.
She glances at a time piece on her wrist. “I’m late for an appointment, so I must leave. It’s been lovely seeing you, and I promise it won’t be the last time. Take care, dear Jennza.” She surprises me by drawing me close in a hug.
Her touch lingers on my shoulders as I watch her leave. She moves in a brisk manner, her head high and her arms swaying at her sides, and I imagine walking beside her on a rocky cliff path.
I should return to the fashionizers. But doing what I should has never interested me. My gaze lifts to the jail.
Nate’s in there.
Lila spoke of his cell as inescapable, deep in the prison—as if he’s already dead and buried.
An idea jumps into my mind. Crazy. Too risky. I shouldn’t even think about it.
But I’m already moving. I make sure no one is watching, then step off the path, ducking into the dense bushes alongside the jail. Shadows swallow me. I have the odd sense of leaving society and entering a wild new world.
Dying leaves crunch beneath my feet, the sound echoing like thunder. Branches twist and tangle around me. A gnarly branch grabs my hair, pulling painfully as I jerk away. I keep going, slowly. I push away a branch, but when it flings back with thorns as sharp as arrows, I drop to the ground, tasting dirt. I start to rise, but I spot a faint animal trail that disappears beneath the bushes.
Crawling on my hands and knees through the bushes, I feel more animal than human. Sounds fade to my own ragged breathing and the skittering noises of tiny creatures scurrying up branches or down into holes. When I come through the bushes, I blink at the sudden brightness.
I stare at the wild ivy spiraling up the wall. A dark stain of metal bars slashes against the brick building.
Nate’s window.
TWENTY
I’m here. Now what?
I imagine Marcus asking, “Why don’t you ever think before you act?”
The barred jail window is just beyond my fingertips. Vines twine up the walls like a ladder that would snap under my weight. Aside from the risk of pain and bone breakage, a crash to the ground would alert Uniforms.
There are so many reasons why I should leave. Nate’s an enemy of ShareHaven. I saw him holding the blow pipe that struck down Grand Sarwald. I need to know why he did it. But will he tell me the truth?
There’s a chill in the air, not from the darkening clouds, but from the jail. As if brick can exhale ice and danger. Worries storm through my mind: What if Nate isn’t alone? If the Uniforms find me, what will they do to me?
I bend down, pick up a small rock, and fling it at the barred window. It’s swallowed by a maze of vines. I try another rock, throwing it so high it bangs against the window and bounces into the ivy. I jump at the sound, diving back into the leafy shield of bushes.
When it seems safe to step back out into the opening, I search the ground for another rock. I find twigs, thorns and weeds—but not any rocks. I dig into the pocket of my tunic and pull out a patch of red fabric, a dried potato peel (how’d that get there?), and my star-shaped sand shell. I rub my thumb over my favorite shell before slipping it back into my pocket. Tossing the peel aside, I see an acorn on the ground and grab it. I aim carefully, then throw as hard as I can. The acorn soars through the window.
Muffled sounds echo from inside the jail. I stand alert, ready to move fast if a Uniform comes to the window. There’s movement. A figure clasps the bars. Hidden in shadows, I can’t see his face.
“Who’s there?”
This raspy voice sounds nothing like Nate. Am I at the wrong window? I slip back into the bushes, peering at the figure leaning against the window. Clouds shift; sunlight slices through the bars. The sky reflects sea-blue eyes.
“Is someone there?” Nate rasps again.
His rough hand tightens around the bars. There’s a scar from his left thumb to wrist, jagged and deep red like fire burns inside. Infection, I think, angry the health-keepers haven’t treated his injury. But I know why and am sickened. Why heal a condemned man? He won’t live long enough to die from an infection.
I step out into the light.
“Jennza!” he chokes out.
I nod and say softly, “Nate.”
“I’m hallucinating. You can’t be real,” he says shaking his head.
“I am.” I move closer so I’m clearly in his view.
“How did you …? What are you doing here?”
I’m drawn into his gaze and can hardly think or breathe. How can I explain why I’m here when I don’t really know? Is it only to satisfy my curiosity, or is it the thrilling rush I get when I look into his eyes? He makes me feel like I’m teetering on the edge of a cliff, poised to dive into an unfathomable sea. I know he’s dangerous, and yet I don’t care.
“You’re hurt.” I gesture to his purpling bruises.
“Damaged but not dead.” He grimaces. “Yet.”
“So you know you’re going to be ….” I stop, unable to finish.
“Executed,” he finishes in an empty voice, as if part of him is already dead.
“I’m so sorry! If I hadn’t startled you by calling out your name, you could have escaped.”
“I know what will happen. What I don’t know is why you came here.”
“I’m no
t sure either.” I glance down at scratches on my arm. “I just … um … wanted to see you.”
“Not much to see.”
Wrong, I think. Even with cuts and bruises, Nate fascinates me. I’m drawn to him in an unexplainable way and could stare into his eyes forever. But only one of us has forever.
“Jennza, it’s dangerous for you to be here.” He glances uneasily over his shoulder. “The Uniforms will check on me soon.”
“I can’t leave yet. Not without knowing ….”
“What?”
“Why you …” I suck in a deep breath. “Why you killed Grand Sarwald. I saw you holding the pipe and couldn’t believe it was you.”
“Believe it,” he says with a bitter edge in his voice. “Killing is what I do.”
“But you saved me in the cave.”
“I killed a bloodsucking fish. That should prove to you I’m violent and not worth your pity.”
“I’m not here because of pity. I want answers.”
He shakes his head. “You’re safer not knowing.”
I strain my neck, looking up at him. “You’re concerned for my safety? Trying to protect me? That doesn’t sound like the behavior of a killer.”
“No person is only one thing.” He sighs. “I’m also a map maker. It’s what I have a talent for, and I’m good at it.”
“Leader Cross said you were good at killing. He also said he used you, so I know you didn’t act alone. Leader Cross and his group convinced you to do this. But why did you agree? Did they threaten you?”
He pulls back so his face is half in shadows and half in light. When he speaks again, his voice is as hard as brick. “Our talk is over. Leave.”
“Why not tell me? Maybe I can help you if I know the truth. I know it’s some sort of conspiracy. I heard them talking about you. They want you dead. But I don’t.” Frustration grips me as tightly as his fingers grip the bars. “I want—need—to understand why you did it.”
“Jennza, it’s not my secret to tell.”
Memory Girl Page 14
