by Ann Aguirre
“That’s all they think girls are good for. There are no rules about it up here, either. You have no power.”
Pure cold seized me. So that was what he’d meant about it being dangerous in a different way. Up here being female meant something else entirely. The marks on my arms wouldn’t give anyone pause, but maybe my skill with a weapon would.
“I don’t think I can take any more answers tonight,” I admitted without looking up.
“You know the important stuff now.”
“Wait. Maybe one more.”
“Go ahead.”
“How did you get your name?” I’d always wondered.
For a moment I thought he wouldn’t answer, because according to enclave rules, it was an intrusive question. If I hadn’t been present, hadn’t contributed to the stack of gifts, then it should wait until he volunteered the information. But we didn’t live by their regulations anymore.
He delved into his bag and came with a tattered strip of paper. I took it, held it to the faint light, which was just strong enough to make out the shape of letters. They were so old that many of them had worn away:
C l rs w l n t fade.
His blood speckled lightly on the final word. I fingered the silky slickness of the paper, nothing like what we made in the enclave. It shone in the dark. He had attended my naming or I would produce my card. But he’d seen. He knew. Feeling honored, I handed the talisman back to him.
“It came off an old bottle,” he said. “But that was too big to carry around, so I peeled off the paper.”
“Do you know what it says?”
He stroked the edges with his thumbs; I could actually see the darker imprint where he’d done that often since his naming. “I think it says, ‘Colors will not fade.’”
To me, it sounded like a wonderful message, a promise of loyalty and fidelity. His colors would not fade or change, no matter what. The name fit someone who wouldn’t leave his partner, even when she disappeared in the dark, and who wouldn’t let her go Topside alone.
“It suits you.” I paused, wondering if I should ask. Maybe he didn’t remember. Maybe he wouldn’t tell me. “What did your sire call you?”
“Like you said, I’m Fade now. I’d rather not go back.”
I understood. A dead man had given the old name to him. It didn’t seem like a good idea to speak it. When he put his arm around me, I didn’t resist. He waited a beat, as if gauging my reaction, and then he eased his head against mine. Sorrow cloaked him, losses I could neither see or know.
Such closeness felt new … and intimate. It had been different with Thimble and Stone, none of the awareness that prickled through me with restless sweetness. Because he seemed to need me, even if it went unspoken, I let myself answer by turning my cheek to his and I remembered the kiss.
Long after he pulled away, the phantom heat lingered and haunted my sleep.
Sunshine
When I awoke, I first thought the room was on fire. I scrambled off the sofa and started to bolt when my senses caught up to my instinctive fear. No smoke meant no fire; it was a simple relationship.
So why was the room so bright?
I crept to the window and gazed out, eyes slitted in pain. Everything glowed. If anyone had tried to explain this to me, I wouldn’t have believed it. The light hurt.
Fade came up behind me. He wore something that wrapped around his eyes, and he offered the other to me. I slid it onto my face.
“Sunglasses. There were a few left on the floor downstairs.” He smiled. “Good thing. I’m not used to the sun anymore either.”
So the light had a name. I still wasn’t sure I liked it, but with my eyes covered, I could bear it. “Will it hurt us?”
“It might. Remember how long it’s been since I was here.”
Through the smoky filter, I gazed out over the city for the first time. I had seen pictures before, of course, old and faded. The elders had told us they reflected a lost world, now poisoned beyond hope. There was nothing Topside except terror and death. Like most of their stories, they contained a grain of truth buried beneath the lies.
Tall shapes filled my view; some had collapsed and lay in ruins. Shorter buildings squatted at the base, holding their shapes better. They were built of old stone — some natural, others looked as if man’s hands had shaped them. The colors had faded beneath the burning sun, much like the artifacts we’d found down below. Built side to side, not much space existed between them, and occasionally, time had pushed one to the side, so it leaned tiredly against its neighbors.
One building rose above the others, its sharp tower gleaming green. It was a different from the buildings that surrounded it, more beautiful and with rounded points atop the windows. Most of them hung in jagged shards, and it had been marked with white painted that identified it as claimed territory. For no reason I could name, the damage saddened me. Resolute, I turned.
“What’s our plan?” I portioned out what was left of our enclave provisions. In my opinion, the first priority should be finding food and water.
“My dad used to talk about getting out of the city.” Fade gestured. “That’s what he called this place. He told stories about where it was green and clean, where you could plant food and watch it grow, where there were plenty of animals for hunting, and you could drink the water without getting sick.”
That sounded unlikely, but … “Did he tell you where that was?”
“North. That was all he ever said.”
“Then let’s go.”
I hoped he had some sense of direction. I wasn’t altogether sure I could find my way around the corner Topside.
“We should wait until nightfall. We’re more likely to run into the gangs during the day, and I suspect we might get burned out there.”
“Burned?” I had visions of being roasted on a spit.
“By the sun.” Fade smiled slightly. “The gangs won’t cook and eat us.”
“Then what can we do for water? We may be able to find food along the way, but—”
“I’ve been thinking about that. There’s water downstairs. If we can figure out some way to boil it, maybe it would be all right.”
“We could build a fire out back.” There was plenty of stuff to burn.
I got up and rummaged through the cabinets. I turned up a pot, but we needed some way to suspend it over the flames. We occupied the day building a contraption out of scrap junk.
“Will this work?”
I shook my head. It took most of the day to put it together, and he stood watch while I started the fire. His vigilance made me nervous even as it reassured me. If there were any gangers around, he’d spot them. The noises were still too strange for me to tell what was threatening — I started at things he said were harmless, like the chittering of small animals and the flutter of wings. And my eyesight wasn’t what it should be. Even with the sunglasses on, I could barely tolerate the sunshine. Though the warmth felt strange and beautiful on my skin, Fade shooed me back indoors.
“Small doses, Deuce. You have to get used to it, or it’s going to sting.”
Right. He’d said the sun could burn me. It certainly looked angry enough, all orange and glowing mad. I peered up at it through the dark filter, through the glass, and wondered how we could’ve lost all memory of something so huge. Down in the enclave, there had been no talk of day or night, no mention of anything but burning air and water that scalded like fire. Somehow we’d mixed everything up. Sorrow rose in me, as I realized the Wordkeeper dedicated his whole life to lies. What a waste.
I sat in the storeroom while Fade handled the actual work, and I kept busy examining the items piled in dusty, papery boxes. I found a metal object that appeared to be nothing much at first glance, but the more I played with it, the more parts I found. I recognized the knife, but not the other tools. Two looked like they might be good for stabbing, but I could only guess at the rest. Since it was light and it folded nicely, I stowed it in my bag.
Through the open door, I
watched Fade work. He used the lighter his father had left him to kindle the smaller objects and then the sparks spread. Eventually the fire burned bright and clean, curls of smoke floating off toward the sky. In the enclave, we’d never have allowed it to get so big. Here, it didn’t seem to matter. I had the fleeting thought that someone might see the blaze and come to investigate, but if so, we’d handle them.
He turned and saw me staring. “Find anything good?”
“Maybe.”
I prowled some more, frustrated by his refusal to let me help outside. I wondered if I’d always be so useless Topside. On a tall shelf, I found a dusty metal box. I lifted it down and looked for a way to open it. Something important must be inside. An opening looked as though an item would fit, possibly opening it.
Eventually, I located the right object. I slid it in and heard a click. When I lifted the lid, I found the most marvelous thing. A book. Not part of one, not loose pages. A whole book. And it wasn’t flimsy like the ones I’d found down in the tunnel. Still, I was almost afraid to touch it.
The beige front had raised letters and green paint, outlining a fanciful design with a girl in strange clothes, a winged brat, and a bird. With some effort, I read the letters: “The Day Boy and the Night Girl. Fairy tales by George MacDonald.” Though I understood most of the words, others escaped me. Enthralled and breathless, I opened it. The book made a little popping sound, as if nobody had touched it in a long time. That was probably true. Using my finger to mark my place, I put more letters together slowly, and other words leaped out at me. “London: Arthur C. Fifield, 1904. Ed. by Greville MacDonald; printed by S. Clarke, Manchester.”
With great care, I turned the page, and my breath caught. Someone had written in the book. The Wordkeeper would be livid. In faded ink, it read: “with love to Gracie from Mary.” Those were names, I thought, and it implied this book had been a gift. Other hands had touched this, people who lived in the lost world. They’d known dreams like mine, and I’d never know how those stories ended. A marvelous sense of connection thrummed through me.
I forgot my worries. I forgot the danger. Using only my fingertips, I flipped to the next page, lightheaded with wonder.
There was once a witch who desired to know everything. But the wiser a witch is, the harder she knocks her head against the wall when she comes to it. Her name was Watho, and she had a wolf in her mind. She cared for nothing in itself — only for knowing it. She was not naturally cruel, but the wolf had made her cruel.
She was tall and graceful, with a white skin, red hair, and black eyes, which had a red fire in them. She was straight and strong, but now and then would fall bent together, shudder, and sit for a moment with her head turned over her shoulder, as if the wolf had got out of her mind onto her back.
“What do you have there?” Fade asked.
I almost hid it from him, and then with a burst of shocking relief, I remembered I didn’t have to. Wordless, I held the book out to him. He looked at it, and his hands were as reverent as mine had been. He read faster than me, and when he finished that first page, his gaze met mine, glazed with awe.
“We’ll take it,” I said. “It doesn’t weigh much.”
He slipped the book into my bag and went back to work. By dark, we had enough clean water to last us a few days. Secretly, I feared leaving this place because I’d gotten used to these two rooms. Inside didn’t scare me. Outside, that enormous, monstrous sky hung over everything, and the size of it made me want to hide.
But there was something different about the dark this time. I took off my glasses and stared up. A curve of silver hung amid the brighter specks; it looked to me like a curved dagger, pretty but deadly, as if it might slice the sky in two.
I didn’t let him see how terrified I was. Instead I geared up as if this were nothing more than a routine patrol. I checked my weapons and our supplies; I shouldered my bag with the resolve of a Huntress. I could handle night.
But you’re not a Huntress. You’re just a girl with six scars.
At least Fade had them too. Maybe I’d been cast out of my tribe, but I wasn’t alone. That made all the difference. If I’d been sent Topside on my own, I’d have already given up. It was simply too different from what I knew. But his calm resolve made me believe we might someday see the green land promised in his father’s stories. If we didn’t, it would be because it didn’t exist, not because we hadn’t tried.
As I stepped outside, a boom sounded, practically shaking the ground itself. I flattened myself against the building. While I cowered, water spilled down, like the pipes in the enclave, but a hundred times more powerful. It soaked me to the bone in no time, and I stood frozen in it, face upturned.
“Don’t worry. It’s rain.” Fade stood close enough for me to feel his heated breath against my ear. A shiver rolled through me, echoed in distant crashes that shook the ground beneath my feet. He lifted his face as well, drinking it in, and I gazed at him through that silver curtain, watching as it glazed his features, all pallor and prettiness. Droplets spiked his lashes, so that I wanted to—
I shouldn’t want that. Rain. Instead I focused on the other part of what I felt.
“It doesn’t burn,” I whispered.
In fact, it felt amazing. I hadn’t bathed recently, and this was the next best thing. I started to smile. I turned slowly, admiring the flashes of light. Rain pounded against the ground until it sounded like a chorus of running feet combined with shushing whispers. I’d never heard anything so lovely. I didn’t even mind we had to walk in it; I only hoped the book was safe and dry. At the first chance, I wanted to read more of it.
“No. They had that wrong too.”
Along with so many things. For the first time, I felt sorry for the people trapped by the enclave rules, who would never break free, who would never see any of this. Who would live and die in the dark.
“I want to go back,” I said. “The elders need to know the truth.”
Fade put his hands on my shoulders. “They won’t listen, Deuce. They’ll kill us on sight. Besides … don’t you think I told them?”
Sickness boiled up inside me. They didn’t share the knowledge with us. Not even a whisper got out, after Fade’s arrival. None of us ever knew where he came from, nothing he’d seen or done. I’d thought his silence meant he didn’t want to talk, but now I realized the truth.
“They threatened you.”
“Not a threat, so much. I could fight for them or I could die.” He repeated what he’d said before, and only then, the enormity sank in for me.
All along, they’d known, and they’d chosen to keep us all in the dark. Literally, figuratively. I felt lost, as if I had nothing left to believe in.
“That’s why you never tried to fit in. Why you didn’t talk to anyone much.”
Besides Banner, the girl he’d said was his only friend — and maybe only because she shared his belief that things needed to change. If I’d helped instead of running away, maybe she wouldn’t have died. For the first time I accepted that the elders’ spies might’ve overheard our conversation. If they’d suspected her, my exchange with her had caused her death.
“I was afraid they’d hurt anyone I cared about. As an object lesson.”
“So you didn’t feel safe, the whole time you were there.”
He shrugged. “I had a place to sleep and food to eat. The work wasn’t that bad once I was trained, and people left me alone, mostly. It would’ve been worse up here.”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea.”
His silence said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. I understood. There was no point in discussing things that couldn’t be changed.
We set off in the direction Fade said was north. Gradually hope sprang up within me, replacing the sick disillusionment. I hated walking off and leaving Thimble, Stone, and the brats, but I had to accept there was nothing I could do.
If a better place existed, we’d find it.
As we walked, I lost myself in the cool air
and lashing water. It silvered the buildings, blurring them as if through a veil of tears. Fade watched the dark street and eyed the markings on the doors. The red and white paint hinted at hidden dangers.
“You’re in our territory,” a hard voice said.
The rush of the rain must have masked their footsteps because I hadn’t heard them. They came from behind and were just suddenly there, surrounding us in a full circle — all male, most younger than us, and they all carried weapons. But I couldn’t mistake their youth for weakness. In their eyes I saw a feral anger I’d never noticed in the enclave. I knew then Fade had spoken the truth. I understood why he’d chosen the more obvious risk of the Freaks and the darkness below.
Fade stepped forward, putting himself in front of me. It was pointless, as they’d come at us from all sides. So I turned, facing the gangers behind him. We’d fight back-to-back. He had made it clear what would happen if they took me. I’d die first.
Falling back on my training, I counted them. Eight. They all handled their weapons like they knew what to do with them, and they looked stronger than the average Freak, rested and well fed. This would be the toughest fight we’d ever faced. The prospect made me smile.
“We don’t want trouble,” Fade said. “We’re just passing through.”
The big one shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
Clearly he was in charge; the others looked to him for leadership, and they might scatter if he fell. I’d go after him first. In a smooth motion, I drew my daggers.
I grinned over my shoulder at Fade. “Let’s see how many we can kill.”
Resistance
I brought my knives up into a fighting stance. The weight of my club comforted me; even if I couldn’t use it and stay close enough to Fade to guard his back, I liked knowing I had it. The gangers eyed us as if wondering whether we could be as good as we claimed. I guessed we were about to find out.
The headman rushed me and I met his swing with a dagger in the wrist. Quick in and out, I didn’t want to lose my weapon. He danced back with a cry of pain, his eyes wide with disbelief. Soon I had three on me, but I hadn’t been running in the tunnels all day. I had meat in my belly and a night’s sleep behind me.
