Venus City 1

by Tabitha Vale

  “Your hair is beautiful,” said a distorted voice.

  A great spring of warmth opened up in her chest. “Would you like to touch it?”

  “Oh, I don't know if I should,” the voice replied.

  “Come on, feel it,” she urged.

  “If you insist.”

  “Get lost in it. Run your fingers through it,” she ordered. Braya was slowly regaining her vision. She could see white all around her, and feel warmth all around her. It was like she was floating.

  “Anyone could get lost in this, it's like a forest.”

  “Breathe it in.”

  “Like a dying man, I'll breathe it all in.”

  “Wrap it around your arm. Play with it. Nuzzle it.”

  There was a pause. “It's like a blanket. I could cuddle it to sleep.”

  She could detect movements now, vague outlines just out of her line of sight. The voice was becoming clearer, too. Masculine.

  “Isn't it soft?”

  “Like silk.”

  “Isn't it long?”

  “Longest I've seen.”

  “Doesn't it smell nice?”

  “Like a garden.”

  She became aware of something hard beneath her. Her surroundings were beginning to take shape. Everything was blurry. There was someone kneeling beside her, arms tangled in her hair.

  “My hair,” she murmured. Something was tugging at her memory. Why was she talking about her hair? An achey heaviness was settling into her legs and arms. “Do you like it?”

  “I like it so much I could eat it,” the voice snickered. Asher's voice.

  At that realization, everything came crashing down on her with numbing clarity. She was strewn over dingy blankets in the underground chapel. She wore the same lace dress—now wrinkled—she'd worn to the Moon Tamer game. Asher was hovering next to her, an amused grin perched on his face, handfuls of her hair filling his fists.

  She jerked up abruptly, screeching in rage. A wave of dizziness forced her back to the ground. With her hand pressed to her head, she glared up at Asher, who appeared to be holding back his laughter.

  “Are you mental? What do you think you were doing?” She snapped.

  “Only what you were ordering me to,” he answered with a shrug.

  “Clearly I was delusional,” she argued. “You didn't have to do anything.”

  “You can be quite fierce when you're delirious.”

  “Uggggh,” she groaned, clutching her head.

  “Feeling dizzy?” He asked, his tone shifting. He almost sounded concerned. “I'm sorry. I've never used this master-slave link before. I didn't know that was going to happen...though to be fair, you brought it on yourself. If you hadn't tried to fight it—”

  Braya interrupted him with another groan of pain. “Don't think for a second that me feeling all wonky has anything to do with that stupid slave device.”

  He narrowed his eyes in thought. “Are you suggesting it was caused from me touching your hair?”

  “God, I'm glad you can catch a hint.”

  “And girls knocked over the head, don't forget,” he added with a smirk. She sent him a foul look as her head thudded in pain just from the memory of being hit unconscious by the stairs a few hours ago. If it had been a few hours ago...now that she thought about it, she'd had to have been in this chapel longer than that. It was impossible to tell being underground.

  “What time is it?”

  “It's Sunday night.”

  “What? I've been sleeping a whole day?” She cried.

  “Don't distress, Bray,” he said as he repositioned himself from kneeling to sitting. He stretched his legs out in front of him—his dirt-covered boots were a centimeter from her blanket—and propped himself back on his arms. “I nursed you back to health. The others wanted to barge in and make their way with you, I'm certain, but I blockaded the door.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better about this?” She asked miserably.

  “Doesn't it?” He quirked a brow, as if he couldn't understand why she didn't throw her arms around him in gratitude. “Anyway, now that you're awake I think you should drink some water,” he pointed a bottle at her side that she hadn't noticed before, “and I'll fill you in on what I was supposed to yesterday.”

  She gulped the water greedily, and even relished the feeling of the cool liquid cutting a path down her chin and dribbling onto her neck. She'd felt stale and dirty ever since waking up—not to mention privately humiliated by the way she'd been awakened—and the water helped clear her head a little. She noticed that Asher hadn't changed his clothes, and by the luster of his skin she could tell he hadn't showered since she'd passed out. Had he actually stayed with her the entire time? The idea made her uncomfortable, and she couldn't help thinking him a great idiot. Surely he should know she would appreciate a decently bathed guardian over a dirty one. Foreigners. Seemed they were as dim-witted as Finches.

  She couldn't deny she was a little curious to hear what he had to say. The more he told her, the more information she'd have when she took this to the Court. Braya could already imagine it.... She would be removed from her Bride career immediately and placed in any field she liked. Mother would be wearing one of her almost-there smiles, the kind that she only used when she was exceptionally pleased—a smile Braya had always vied for. The foreigners would be dealt with harshly. And best of all, Hera-bird would be banished from the Interview Committee. At least, she could only hope.

  “...the master-slave link, because your comment yesterday about mind control had kept me from sleeping very much,” Asher was saying, a small frown tugging at his features as he examined the tip of his boots with intent pools of blue.

  “God forbid anything should make you uncomfortable in this arrangement,” she muttered.

  “This link that bonds us,” he said, his eyes flickering from examining his boots to settling on her, “has nothing to do with mind control, as you suspect. It's merely a tool meant to make you do as I say.”

  “And that's completely different than mind control,” she said sarcastically.

  “It is,” he insisted. “I only have the power to make you follow a command. Last night, you heard my voice inside your head because you meant to disobey. If you don't fight it, nothing will possess you like last time. This link we have, it doesn't allow me to read your mind, implant ideas into your head, control your thoughts, or even talk to you inside your head.” He seemed somewhat upset about the last point.

  “I might have to jump off a cliff if that were the case,” she grumbled under her breath.

  Asher pursed his lips. “Be as negative as you want, Bray. I know somewhere deep down, you have a soft side. In fact, I was getting better acquainted with that side of you before you woke up. Who knew you had a secret...weakness of will, let's call it, for your own hair. What were your words...oh, right. Touch it, play with it...nuzzle it.”

  A blush swept over her expression of outrage. “Shut up about that.” She threw the almost-empty water bottle at him, but he deflected it without so much as a flinch.

  His winter blue gaze rested on her with infinite patience. The corners of his mouth twitched. “Oh, Bray. I had hoped we could be the type of master and slave who got on well. Became friends. Built trust. Braided each other's hair.”

  She glowered at him, but didn't grace him with a response. Instead, she started inspecting the small room they were in. Braya had the feeling she was in the same room she had woken up in last time she'd been knocked out. Aside from the blankets she was sitting on and the gold plastered lantern propped up in one of the dingy corners, the room was bare. She wasn't sure where he'd slept, but it didn't matter. He could have curled up on the cold stone floor and swallowed a nest of spiders for all she cared.

  “Is that a no? Would you change your mind if we changed the name to master-friend link?”

  “You think you're funny,” she sneered. “But I think I'd like to campaign for a new master.”

  She had no idea ho
w that would help her, but she wanted something to rebuff him with. And it worked. His gaze was glacial as he let his eyes rove over her for a moment.

  When he responded, his voice was snow on her skin. “You can, if you'd like. Ness won't like that, though.”

  She remembered that name from last night—the Locer Sharks’ captain.

  “I don't care,” she said. She moved to stand. Talking to him was unsettling. In regards to emotion, he had every capability that she and all the other females in Venus City did, but he was definitively male. Braya didn’t know exactly how to describe it, but having an equal range of instincts as him served only to make her feel lesser than him. Vulnerable.

  He sprung to his feet. “Hey now, did I say I'd release you yet? I still have loads to tell you about de-hazing.”

  She scowled. “De-hazing?”

  “That's why we need you,” he said, his tone severe. His stare was so cold, so blue, and so heavy as he peered down into her face that a shiver passed over her. “It's a sort of...war preparation. Your city is in danger if we don't go through with it.”

  Her brows knit together. “What are you talking about? I think my city is pretty capable of taking care of itself. Besides, there hasn't been war for over ninety years, and Venus City has never been involved in anything like that.”

  “Venus City has been isolating itself from the rest of the world for the past ninety years, and that's the only reason it has managed to go unscathed. But don't assume there isn't war. The world beyond these city walls is torn apart by it. That's the real world, and in here—” he faltered as if he couldn't find the right words, “Here is just not reality. On the outside we call Venus City “The Haze City” because no one here has a clue about what the rest of the world is going through. You're living in a haze.”

  “So, de-hazing means...” She prompted.

  “It's sort of like...” his face scrunched up in thought, “We're bringing you out of the haze.”

  “You're bringing war to our city?” She cried in alarm.

  “No, no, no,” he hastened to amend. “We're here to warn you.”

  “Why did you have to sneak in to do that?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “Your government won't listen to a word of what we have to say,” he explained. “They insist they can remain uninvolved forever.”

  “So, if I'm to believe all this war mongering, why are you guys hiding underground? Why sneak around? Why enslave me?” She asked, her voice nearly shrill.

  “How well do you think your precious Court would react to intruders?” He asked spitefully. “They would kill us on spot, most likely. No...” he sighed. “We have to make you guys see it on your own. If the citizens can realize it, your government will have no choice but to act.”

  “And what kind of action do you expect us to take?” She asked snidely. “We definitely won't be jumping up to join the war.” At least she hoped not. It sounded dreadful.

  “I'm not the leader of this operation,” he said with a surprising amount of disdain, “So I don't know every detail. I just know that we have to warn you lot before it's too late. The other countries, the strongest ones, they're plotting against you now.”

  Braya swallowed hard. An image of grotesque men with sharp teeth, red eyes, and burly muscles surrounding her city rose to mind. She shuddered. “Plotting what?” Braya hated that the fear carried through her voice.

  Asher didn't seem to notice. “Like I said, I'm not the leader. I know very little of what is going on. I've been assigned to do my part and I'm not to question it.”

  She was suddenly aware of how close she was standing to him, and she felt an irrational urge to grab him.

  “What does this have to do with me, though?”

  “We're using Venus boosters for de-hazing. Since we're not born of this city, though, we can't use them. We need a true-born Venusian to help us,” he uttered, his voice hanging between a whisper and a sigh. She could smell him again—flowers and soil, and this time something additional. Something sweet.

  Had he eaten when she was asleep? Her stomach grumbled in response to the thought of food.

  He chuckled, and his breath swooshed over her face. “Don't worry, my appearance is quite appetizing, is it not?” And just like that, the weight of their conversation was lifted and he was smirking down at her.

  “I'd say not,” she said with a huff. She maneuvered around him and posed herself at the door. “Show me the way out, now.”

  Asher explained the way as they went. Braya tried to remember—so that when she got out of there she would know how to direct the Court to their hide-out—but soon lost track after what seemed like the thirtieth corner they turned. It didn't matter what he said. She wasn't convinced. How come she'd lived her whole life without hearing a whisper of war? It wasn't only that, though. She'd grown up to believe there wasn't anything beyond Venus City—that the rest of the world had killed each other in the Great War. So why should she doubt all of her beliefs after having a conversation with a foreigner? It wasn't like he was an ambassador coming to bring a pleasant message, either. He was a combat fighter. An intruder. A kidnapper and mind controller. A man. No, there was definitely no reason to take him seriously. Still, the very existence of him and his gang made it impossible for her to shut him out completely—after all, if there were still foreigners outside Venus City, wasn't it possible that there was still war?

  Asher was carrying the lantern in his left hand, and the shadows that swerved across the dark hall they were currently walking made his face look fearsome. “You've been quiet this whole time,” he observed. He stopped walking, and turned to face her. “What are you thinking?”

  She shrugged. “Just about how I don't believe you at all.”

  He made a face. “Are you kidding me? Ah...” he paused, considering her. “That's fine, I suppose. You don't have to believe me. I wasn't supposed to convince you, anyway. That's why we installed the master-slave link. You have to help us whether you believe it or not.”

  The light danced along the cracked stone as he began moving down the passage again, and Braya was about to respond to his snarky little comment when she saw a silhouette stamped into the darkness. A sound escaped her mouth, but it was a strange mix between an exclamation and a scream.

  Asher raised the lantern so the light could envelope the person perched at the bottom of the steps. “Page?” He asked scornfully. “You finally emerge, and may I commend you on your timing?”

  The boy in front of them didn't respond. His appearance was more startling than Asher's—hair pale blond, fair skin, and blinking hazel eyes, he stared at Braya with a neutral expression. It reminded her of the way Channing had looked at her during her Interview. It made her instantly dislike him.

  “Go on, Bray,” Asher nudged her toward the stairs.

  “A light can never remove every spot of darkness,” Page said. His voice sent a shiver down Braya's spine. It was so smooth, so fluid, like water on glass. And what an odd thing to say. What did it have to do with anything? Braya cast an unsure look at Asher, but he motioned to the stairs.

  “Ignore him,” he said, appearing irritated.

  She edged past Page, who neither moved nor responded when her shoulder brushed his, and continued up the stairs without another glance back.

  ****

  Monday morning Braya arrived at the Heartland Manor with her gown folded over her forearm and wrapped in protective plastic. She'd just looked over her daily schedule in the car ride over. The morning was packed with culinary classes, a brief lunch was squeezed in at noon, and a three-hour long dancing class took up the entire afternoon. It had absolutely nothing to do with being a future mother and everything to do with the evening ball on her schedule.

  Last night she'd called her driver and made it home well after midnight. She'd woken her mother up despite the hour to tell her what she'd discovered, but had been violently yelled at when all she could do was stutter and gape like a fish out of water. The master-s
lave link had prevented her from uttering a single word about the foreigners and their hide-out. Braya had suspected it might do that—otherwise the Locers wouldn't have let her go—but she had hoped the foreigners were just that dumb.

  So she was back to square one again. No way out of her Bride career and now enslaved by a childish gang of foreigners. Not to mention haunted by the idea of war just beyond the city border.

  Her morning culinary classes passed by in a blur. Braya was too distracted to concentrate on the soup they were preparing. How was she going to get her Crown job? How was she going to get back onto her mother's good side? Especially after last night, Braya feared it might take more than capturing a few foreigners. That is, if she could capture them.

  Turning in the foreigners was still her best shot at getting anything. She realized that if she were going to have any luck in turning one of them in, she'd have to be extremely clever about it. Asher was out of the question. He had too much leverage over her. Perhaps one of the twins? She scoffed to herself. If she ever saw them again. That stupid underground chapel was like a maze from hell. Perhaps she could lure them out? But then there was the invisibility issue. That part still bugged her. How did they do that? Was it a foreigner thing? She decided she didn't know enough about them yet to hope to trick them. But she could wait, if only for a short time. It might be all she needed—they were human, and they were bound to make a mistake somewhere. And when they did, she would pounce.

  “Lunch!” a voice hollered in her ear.

  Braya glared at Brielle. “Did you have to yell in my ear like that?”

  “Oh, sorry Miss Braya,” she blushed. Her parachute dress today was yellow.

  Brielle clutched Braya's arm and dragged her over to the other end of the kitchen-classroom where a clutter of tables had been set up to accommodate the class of thirty two girls. It was always the largest of her classes, though she kind of wished she’d been placed in the smaller class of eighteen. Oh well.

  They approached a table where Emma and Maydessa were already sitting.

  “We're eating here? But we always eat in the Great Hall.”