Elijah approaches Aurora with the cords. She studies him with open curiosity as he binds her wrists. She doesn’t look so arrogant anymore. Or aloof. She looks completely uncertain, and almost…interested.
“So you’re Elijah,” she says. And then it hits me. Because, if she’s really related to me, then Elijah’s her brother, too. Just as much as he is mine. And a strange jealousy rises up to choke me at the strange affection I see in her eyes. I hate it. Affection doesn’t suit her.
He finishes binding her ankles, then sits beside me and leans his head back. Aurora huddles in the corner, the wonder gone and replaced with the same arrogance as Titus. Chin held high, green eyes glittering with obvious hatred. I realize she looks just like Titus with those green eyes. Not only that, but she has just as much pride and unattractive stubbornness as her creator.
Sitting down on the cold, smelly floor, I suddenly miss the Turner mansion. The soft bed. The crackling fire. The hot chocolate. Does Forest know I’m gone, yet? Or that I brought Aurora with me? Holy Crawford, he’s going to hate me when he finds out I kidnapped her. Does he know I’m working with the Resurgence yet? Does he know anything?
I release a sigh and lean back against the cold stone wall. I haven’t really had time to think about the crazy impossibility of Aurora being my sister. But there’s no way. It is so much easier to believe she’s a clone than it is to believe she’s my twin. An evil twin at that. Is it true? Could it possibly be true? But then…how? Where has she been all this time? How could her existence be kept so secret that even Forest, Titus’s best friend, didn’t know about her? The impossibility is too strong.
And I refuse to believe it.
Aurora-with-no-last-name is a clone. A weapon. And she’s evil. Just as evil as Titus. He must have made her in his own image, and why wouldn’t he? He’s such a lonely, pathetic monster who can’t even make his best friend accept his decisions. Forest might be confused, but he’s not blind. He wants to change the government. He doesn’t agree with everything Titus says or does. He’s loyal, but that doesn’t mean he’s stupid.
Aurora, on the other hand, is stupid. Her brain must be composed of wires and switches that make her believe exactly how Titus believes. She certainly acts exactly like him. Mocking. Condescending. Entitled. Maybe he took my blood to make her look exactly like me, but used his brain cells to make her think like him. Two Titus brains? How scary. How incredibly terrifying. Because he’s smart. And he’s cruel. So I decide that, if Aurora ever tries to escape, or if she doesn’t provide the Resurgence with the inside information we need, I will kill her myself.
Because she’s nothing. She’s nothing but an echo of myself, and she needs to be disposed of.
Soon.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
I wake up to the sound of a clanking tin cans. Everyone around me is asleep. Aurora is curled up in her little corner. So I squint through the darkness toward the sound, almost ready to alert the others, when I make out Digory’s profile.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
He freezes, looks at me. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
I push my blanket off and stand and walk toward him so we don’t have to talk so loud and risk waking the others. I notice, as I approach, that he’s got over fifty spray cans lined up. He’s got rubber gloves in his back pocket and a mask to go over his face.
“What are you doing?” I ask again.
He looks at me, grins so wide I can see the whites of his teeth. “Leaving a message for Whitcomb. You want to come?”
“Y-you’re actually leaving?”
“Just for a few hours.” He looks down at his spray cans, then begins piling them into a satchel. “I’m going to the Community Center where all the food is stored.”
“The Community Center was blown up weeks ago.”
“Part of it was.” He swings the satchel over his shoulder, digs in his pocket for the car keys. “But there’s still that wall. That perfect white wall that’s just begging to be painted.” He smiles a little. “I hear you’re an artist. I could use the help.”
A thrill courses through me. Use my art to destroy Frankfort? To leave a message for Titus? Yes, please.
I grin, grab the other bag of spray cans, and follow him out of the church, Julius at my heels. Rain must have instructed Julius to keep an eye on me, because he has not left my side since he rescued me from the Defenders. I guess Rain has more concern for me than he cares to admit. Or else he just doesn’t want to piss off Walker by losing me. I open the back door to the car, and Julius hops in the back seat, then I take the passenger seat.
Digory drives us through the streets, expertly avoiding the patrols, and we finally arrive at the part of the city that’s alive with pedestrians. We park a ways out, then make the rest of the way on foot. I forgot how alive Frankfort is, even at this time of night. Music fills the air, all the stores are lit, alive with action. Bars filled with people line the street. The people sit out on the porches, drinking and laughing. Others crowd the streets, and it’s really not too hard for me and Digory to blend in.
We arrive at the park and take a trail hidden by the shadows of the trees. I know these gardens well enough now to know exactly where to go. Titus hosts too many picnics here. And my hotel was just across the street. While the streets are alive with people, the garden is completely abandoned.
We arrive at the wall, and Digory drops his satchel to the ground.
“It’s about time.”
The new voice makes my heart forget to beat, then it pounds twice as fast, because Rain emerges from the shadows, his newsboy cap slightly askew. The newsboy cap Judah gave him to remind him whose side he’s on. Instead of his usual gray vest and white button up shirt, he’s wearing a black T-shirt and sweatpants. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a T-shirt and sweatpants. He almost looks…sexy. Like he just woke up. He carries a large sack full of more spray paint.
Julius leaps toward him, and Rain kneels down and scratches the black tiger behind the ears, mumbling some affectionate greeting, then he stands and looks at me. “So Flame-girl wanted to join us, huh?” I open my mouth to protest, but he grins, his dimples deepening. “It’s nice to know you’re alright.”
“I have Julius to thank,” I say.
“He’s not so terrifying when he’s rescuing you, is he?”
I shake my head. “But, you might want to say your goodbyes. I don’t think I want to part with him again.”
He smirks. “Keep dreaming, Flamey. Julius stays with me.” His smile flattens. “Especially after that ploy you pulled. Kidnapping Fake Ember? Seriously? That was not part of the plan and possibly the dumbest thing you could have ever done.”
“Why? Titus is already looking for us—”
“Yeah, but now he’s going to be looking twice as hard. He’s quite fond of his little creation, according to Forest, who, by the way, is also pissed.”
Pissed at what, I wonder. Me working with the Resurgence? Or me kidnapping his little project? But I don’t have time to ask before Rain’s already turning toward Digory.
“So what’s the word?” Rain asks. “Or, words, that we’re using to vandalize this building?”
“I don’t know,” Digory says. “Any suggestions?”
“You don’t even have it planned out? Seriously?”
Digory lifts his hands in mock defense. “Hey, it’s been a big week, okay? This was a last-minute decision. I haven’t really had time to dream up magical words to piss off the chief.”
“What’s the message you want to convey?” Rain asks.
“I dunno. A threat, maybe? Something to stir up the crowd. Or, I don’t know. Something to wage war with?”
“Wage war? You want us to get blown to pieces before we’re even ready?” Rain shakes his head. “You’re pathetic.”
“Well what do you want to say? Huh? Yeah. That’s what I thought. You don’t even have a single idea, do you?”
“I have an idea.” The words slip my
lips before I think through them. But I’m a part of this. And I know exactly what to say, and I tell them.
We all pick up the cans and begin spraying. And it’s so fun and terrifyingly dangerous that adrenaline courses through my veins, and I’m not really sure when I last felt this alive.
After we spray the text, I realize I might not get a chance to leave a big message like this for the snotty Patricians again. I mean, what better way to tell them…everything? And I begin spraying some art around the text. I spray the shape of Ky and a bird flying away from it. I spray the bridge leading to Indy, then write INDY TRIBE OFFERS REFUGE ACROSS THE RIVER. I spray WHITE PLAGUE IS OVER farther down the wall. I spray TAKE A STAND. SHARE THE ANTITOXIN. DEFENDERS ARE BRAINWASHED. EVERYONE IS BRAINWASHED. GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE CUPOLA AND INTO REALITY. And then I spray fire and embers and flames all around the text. And I spray the Rebels Circle and a shadow of the victims hanging in the center, but then Rain tells me it looks like I’m threatening the Patricians, so I quickly drown the pictures in more flames.
“Okay, okay, that’s enough, Ember,” Rain says, breaking me from my art trance. He looks at my art and whistles. “That actually looks pretty good. You’re a better artist than you give yourself credit.”
“Aw,” I say. “A compliment from Rain. I’m so flattered.” I take off my mask, and we step back to admire our handiwork. The text is written loud and clear; it would be impossible for anyone to miss it.
BELIEVE IN FREEDOM. BELIEVE IN UNITY. TITUS IS A LIAR. LONG LIVE THE RESURGENCE. THIS MESSAGE BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE REAL EMBER CARTER. NOT HER CLONE.
All secrets out. Nothing held back. A strange, swelling pride fills my chest. I wish I could take a picture. Better yet, I wish I could get a picture of Titus’s face when he sees this.
“We should go,” Digory says. And he’s right. Already the sky is lightening with the hint of dawn. People might recognize us in broad daylight. And if Rain is seen, everyone will know he’s working with the Resurgence. And right now, he’s our biggest asset in Ky. Which is why he’s staying behind when we leave today. I have to admit, I’m kind of going to miss him.
We pack up the empty cans and head out of the park. When we arrive at the street to part ways, we say our goodbyes to Rain. Then, to my utter astonishment, Rain pulls me into a tight embrace.
“What…what’s this?” I ask.
“You guys are leaving as soon as you get back to the church.” He pulls away, looks down at me with guarded gray eyes. For a brief moment, he lets his walls down, and I see a hint of emotion, like, concern or something. But I must be seeing things because Rain doesn’t give a tiger’s nuts about me. But then he reaches up, caresses my cheek, and I’m lost in his eyes. In the beauty of his passion. And I can’t breathe because oxygen seems overrated right now. He runs his knuckles down my neck, then leans in until his lips are three inches from my own. And he’s looking at me—really looking at me—like he’s about to say something profound or kiss me or something.
But then he drops his hand, his walls once again carefully in place.
“I got something for you,” he says, reaching into his back pocket. He pulls out a gray piece of fabric and unfolds it.
A newsboy cap. Except a bit more delicate, made for a girl. A newsgirl cap.
“I guess you’ve earned it, now that you’re a vital part of the Resurgence.” He places it snuggly on my head, covering my ridiculous short hair. “Consider this an apology gift.” He smiles a little. “For having your hair chopped off.”
I laugh, look at the ground, embarrassment heating up my neck. “Thanks.”
“It suits you.” He studies me a moment longer, then chucks my chin. “Try not to get into too much trouble, Carter.” He winks, then whirls around, crosses the street, and disappears into the building, Julius at his heels. I think I’m more disappointed about Julius leaving than I am about Rain leaving. I’ve grown kind of fond of that tiger.
“C’mon,” Digory says. I turn and follow him through the alleyways to the car. We drive back into the shoddier part of the city, and it’s not until we’re creeping back through the doors of the church that I realize, I didn’t even think to ask Rain about Forest.
PART III
the sapling
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The next morning, I pull the newsgirl cap Rain gave me snuggly over my head, quite happy to conceal this ridiculous haircut, and all eight of us load into the van. Levi drives us down the back roads out of the cupola. Aurora tried to talk us into releasing her—again. No way I’m going to let her go. I have too many questions. I hate Titus too much to give him his precious little project back. And, honestly, a part of me enjoys watching Aurora struggle a little. It’s because of her no one cared about my disappearing, or about the orchard burning to the ground, or about anything really. And if Mrs. Turner was right, this is the loophole we need to take Titus down.
I’d hoped to bring change when I approached the chief at the parade. I’d hoped to open the Patricians’ eyes to the reality of the government. Instead, I was captured, imprisoned, sentenced to death, and no one even knows or cares because little miss Aurora here is an excellent actress and made everyone think my favorite pastime was walking through the gardens on a sunny afternoon stroll.
Well. They’ll have a lot to think about when Aurora is missing and the Patricians find that message on the wall. Whatever suspicions I planted by approaching the chief at the parade will be confirmed. People will begin asking questions. And when it’s time to take down the chief, it’ll be a lot easier for the Resurgence to wedge into society with a bunch of Patricians on our side.
When we mount the highway toward Louisville, we blindfold Aurora so she doesn’t know where we’re going. Sure, Titus suspects the Resurgence is hiding in the ashen city, but after sending multiple search parties and finding no sign of life, he’s starting to think we’re hiding somewhere else. No need to risk Aurora smoking us out.
We mount an overpass, and, from our place on the hill, I can see the majority of the Ky at a glance. I study the city, the crumbling buildings and factories that stretch out to what appears to be the ends of the earth. I look at them and my heart squeezes, because living in the heart of Ky are my people. Ky is my home. And how on earth could I ever want to abandon them?
Once we arrive to Louisville, we make the rest of the way on foot in the freezing cold snow. I chew my lip in anticipation. Because I didn’t really think past my own plans. Like, how angry is Walker going to be that I kidnapped Titus’s big project?
We trudge through the freezing cold, all of us wearing the coats we hid in the van while we were at Frankfort. All of us dressed warmly for winter.
Except Aurora.
She’s still wearing that ridiculous purple toga that I kidnapped her in. A toga that flares out below her knees and has no sleeves. She has a blanket wrapped around her shoulders, but I doubt it’s warm enough to keep the cold out. I’m freezing, even with my coat on. The cold is like a million needles poking into my exposed skin. And I suddenly feel a pang of pity for Aurora. Because she’s walking with us, her hands bound, her head bowed, her eyes blindfolded, her arms and legs and face exposed to the bitter cold, and she’s not making a single complaint.
Stop.
I will not feel sorry for her. She’s the enemy. She’s a clone. Can she even feel the cold? Most likely not.
Because she’s a shoddy robot.
“How does it feel?” I ask. She tilts her head slightly, but obviously can’t see me through the blindfold. “How does it feel to stand in the cold with no elaborate fireplace? No weather-controlling cupola? How does it feel to have cold air on your skin like the rest of Ky’s population?”
She pastes on her signature Patrician smile. Even while wearing a blindfold and trembling from the cold, the grin clearly comes so easily to her. It only proves how inhuman she really is.
“It’s not that b-bad, really,” she says. She can’t even keep her chin still long enough to ta
lk, she’s shivering so badly. “I don’t s-see why the Proletariat make so many c-complaints. I would think they’d know how to ssshhhut their brains off by now and t-turn their bodies numb against the c-cold. I mean, this is my first time in such c-conditions, and I’ve already m-mastered the art.”
My mouth drops open at her audacity.
“You’re sick,” I snap. I spin around. “I hope you’re compliant in giving us all Titus’s inside information.”
“If I’m n-not?”
“Then we’ll just have to take your robotic body apart. Piece. By. Piece. Until we find the magical chip that holds all of Titus’s valuable information.”
“First I’m a c-clone, and now I’m a r-robot?” She gives a clearly forced laugh that sounds more like a high-pitched reaction to the cold and says, “You’re in ssso much d-denial you c-can’t even make up your mind ab-b-bout me.”
“Well, one thing is certain,” I say. “As evidenced by the fact that you would so easily take advantage of a sweet, honest boy, who’s already in a serious relationship with another girl, you’re a first-class hooker.”
I look back at her, look for a reaction. Anger. Regret. Hurt. Something. But this robotic clone of mine still has that awful Patrician smile etched on her face.
“Not too d-different from you,” she says. “Wasn’t he engaged to Olivia before you ssstole him away?”
Humiliation heats up my neck.
“P-poor little farm-girl,” she continues. “So j-jealous. You finally had one thing go right in your life, and you c-can’t even hold onto it.”
I look away. Wish I hadn’t struck up a conversation with her. But just when I think the subject is finally dropped, she says, “He never t-talked about you.”
“Why would he?” I snap. “I was supposed to be dead.”
“You were supposed to be d-dead. I was supposed to be you. N-no one was allowed to know my real name, but he somehow couldn’t even keep his mouth shut about me long enough to keep it a secret.”
ashen city (Black Tiger Series Book 2) Page 23
