Venus City 1

by Tabitha Vale

  “Your point?”

  “Well, can you honestly tell me you believe the men here are just born like that?” Asher asked pompously. “They're like...dehumanized. Shells of humans, and nothing more. Is that normal to you, Bray?”

  “Yes. Very normal,” she snapped, crawling toward the panel. She could see that this surface was a lot smoother, and was nearly excited when the booster stuck immediately. A purple shimmer glossed over the panel before disappearing. It was the same reaction every object had displayed so far, and Braya couldn't help wondering what they were meant to do. There were no names on the boosters and the design was horribly complex and indiscernible. “That's how they are.”

  Asher's body appeared as she was moving to perch herself at the edge of the roof where they'd climbed up. She had complained that he should have given her climbing enhancement because she had nearly fallen to her death numerous times already.

  Asher's eyes danced with amusement, but Braya pointedly ignored him. “Don't you think it's odd, though? Now you see us Ephraimans, strapping and just as capable of experiencing every shade of the human condition as you women are, and you still think that it's normal? Haven't you ever considered it has something to do with Venus Sare?”

  “I haven't the faintest idea,” she grunted as she missed a couple of the rungs of the fire escape, “of what you're talking about,” she finished in a whoosh of breath. She landed on the second level platform and glanced down at the ground. Normally such a stunt would have her head spinning, or the ground trembling beneath her, but ever since she'd been enhanced, Braya reveled the adrenaline that came with it and secretly wished they would continue this all day if only for her to make use of her new skills.

  After they climbed down to the narrow, tidy alleyway, Asher handed her the map.

  “You don't know what Venus Sare is? Please tell me you're joking,” he said, leaning against the side of the building.

  Braya didn't look up from the map as she replied, “I don't waste my jokes on you, sorry.”

  “So you must not know about the other Sares? Ephraim, Nanlynn, I could go on. What do your people here think runs this city, then? Technology? Science?” He snorted. “That ship has sailed. Died with the first stage of the Great War.”

  “It doesn't matter, does it?” She replied coolly, trying to analyze the map. She wasn't having a lot of luck, not when Asher was drilling her with questions she'd rather not think about.

  “It's called Venus Vault,” she finally admitted, after she realized he wasn't following her to their next location. Braya stared at him, cool and elegant against the slab of stone he leaned on, and shuddered at the ice blue gaze that penetrated her through.

  “What is that?” He asked, casually pushing off from the building and walking to the mouth of the alley, where Braya waited. Braya wasn't sure where Page was, but she was sure he was nearby. She could feel it.

  “There's this thing called the Venus Vault,” she said impatiently. “It's what gives us everything we need. It gives us what we used to have, before that stupid war destroyed everything. Cars, computers, tech pads, boosters, stuff like that, and much more. Venus Vault provides it, and we don't question it.”

  “That's gotta be the Sare, then. You know it's because of the Sares that the war started, right?” He asked condescendingly, his frame towering over her. It was then that she realized how close he was, tried to sidestep him, and collided with something invisible. Asher let out a howl of a laugh.

  “Finally useful for something, Page,” he said as his hand curled around her wrist and pulled her close to his chest, like one would a book they were about to read carefully. Even the way his eyes, as cold and soft as snow, studied her, Braya could imagine herself a book he meant to lose himself in.

  As riveting as his stare was, something else caught her attention. There was something about his touch—something that had been absent during the nippets of flesh they'd shared on the gazebo—that sent her nerves on overdrive. It ignited something in her, and made her skin ache in a strangely pleasant manner. Asher's gaze smoldered, his mouth curving as if to say something, and then he paused. Had he noticed the weird feeling too?

  “Stop fooling around,” Page's clipped voice interrupted. Braya yanked free of Asher with a blush, and stalked away, trying to recollect the scattered remains of her composure as she went.

  They were near the Prince Canal, and Braya hoped that the next dot on the map wasn't in plain sight. So far most of the places she'd had to implant—she found that word didn't match what they were doing, but supposed it was better than sticking—had been well concealed or there hadn't been a lot of people around to worry about being spotted by. That in of itself, in the Heart District at least, was a miracle. Braya felt like their luck was running thin, though. The Canal was one of the most popular places in the entire city. She didn't know why. It was just another romance gimmick, something that strung women along by two threads; enjoying it themselves and pretending that their men enjoyed it, too. Because they didn't.

  When the Canal came into view, Braya felt her stomach clench. It was bustling—no, brimming, no swamped—with people. The man-made canal was beautifully constructed. Stone foot bridges arching over the narrow channel of calm, blue water; twisting, flowered vines and ivy clutching at the stone sides; small, pencil-shaped boats bobbing along the water; strings of fairy lights hovering about; dainty shops and restaurants lining the streets on both sides.

  People were leaning over the bridges to stare down at the water and wave at the couples floating by. Braya tried to maneuver her way through the crowds of people without being shoved, and silently hoped the two invisibles trailing her would have a stickier time than she had.

  It turned out that there were several dots along the canal. There shouldn't have been any surprise there, she scolded herself. As of yet, none of the implants had been more than thirty yards apart. The Canal easily streamed through Heart District for a few miles.

  At first it wasn't difficult. The fact that there were so many people actually worked to their advantage. They were too busy, too excited, to notice one girl slinking along the canal and rubbing boosters onto random objects or landmarks, despite the way she was dressed. At the end of the canal was when they encountered the problem.

  Braya was meant to place a booster on a regal statue that gleamed under the sunlight at the end of the canal. Its shape was that of a man bending a woman over his arm and kissing her, and there was a long line of people winding up to the foot of the statue, all of them waiting to take a picture in front of the famous statue.

  “Get closer and just do it,” Asher's breath tickled her ear, and she felt something against her lower back, something she presumed to be his hand. “Put it on the base.”

  “Someone will see me,” she hissed out of the corner of her mouth, trying to wrestle away from his touch, but finding it difficult due to his invisibility.

  “Do it.”

  There was no helping it. She'd been ordered, and it wasn't something worth passing out over.

  Braya hunched down and walked behind the row of people until she was within feet of the statue. There were flower boxes surrounding the sides and the back of it, making the only accessible point the front, where the groups of people were posing for pictures. She grumbled to herself, silently wishing she could become invisible like the Locers.

  Unfortunately the master-slave link didn't leave any room to be subtle. It had an order and she was to complete it immediately, allowing Braya no time to consider the best angle, or any of the other elements that would have lowered her chances of being seen. Therefore, she took no pause, being unable to.

  There was a large group of girls, giggling and posing, gathered in front of the statue, and Braya lunged toward the statue without qualm. But she did feel embarrassed when they took notice of her—when their stares caught her, pinning her. And then she realized she was being exactly what her mother had said—she was acting like them. Like the Finches. She was a Cr
own, and dammit if she wanted to interrupt a stupid picture, then she would.

  Braya slapped the booster onto the stone with a triumphant force, as if to emphasize the private resolution she'd just come to. The white marble of the statue shuddered with the same glossy purple that the other items had, and a small gasp spread through the crowd. Whispers ignited not a moment later, and Braya felt dread pooling at the bottom of her stomach. She didn't care if the boosters were discovered—hell, she wanted them netted out and taken care of—but she didn't want to be linked to it, not when she couldn't explain herself innocent.

  “Run, you idiot,” Asher's voice called to her.

  And she ran. Braya ran so fast that she felt herself become a blur. She'd no idea what a blur felt like, but that was the only way she could describe the speed at which she tore out of that canal at.

  Braya was clueless as to how they found her or how they caught up to her—though she seemed to recall something about the locer sharks they were mimicking, about how they could swim fast—but Asher and Page met her in the field behind Heartland Manor, the field where the chapel lay beneath the ground. Braya had run there by instinct.

  “I think we've done enough for today,” Asher panted, out of breath. He looked extremely appealing when he was like that. Page also looked like he was tired, but he didn't make a sound, gave no verbal indication that he'd exerted all of his energy. “Besides, we have the race tonight. Gotta stay limber for that.”

  “Race?” Braya asked, feeling not at all tired, but eager for more. A race—that sounded perfect.

  ****

  She didn't have a lot of time before they were meeting again to race. Whatever kind of race it was, Braya had no idea, as neither Asher nor Page had felt inclined to explain it. She decided to skip her afternoon classes of motherhood training and went home. She needed to see how Bellamine was doing on the medicine. It'd been forever since she'd seen her sweet younger sister.

  Aspen was in Bellamine's room, swathed in his usual white clothing, when Braya entered from the library. He was telling her a story about his classmates, his ever present notebook on the floor beside him, and Bellamine was propped up on her pillows, her eyes glassy as she stared off into space. Whether she was listening to what her brother had to say was unclear. Aspen stopped talking when he noticed Braya descending the winding staircase, and abruptly rose to his feet.

  “Braya,” he said, surprised, “What are you doing here? Don't you have classes?”

  Upon spotting Braya, Bellamine emerged from her trance and gracefully closed the distance between them, her arms rising to encircle Braya's middle. Braya welcomed the embrace, and felt a pleasant warmth seep through her as Bellamine continued to cling to her.

  “I don't have a lot of time,” Braya said, looking back up at Aspen, her fingers stroking through the ringlets of Bellamine's hair, “I just wanted to catch you while you were here. You graduated from your academy today, right? And how about Bellamine's medicine? How is it working?”

  He stared at her for a moment, as if trying to discern a puzzle he saw in her face. She supposed she might look different—perhaps a little exhilarated due to the boosters, but she silently prayed he wouldn't comment on it—since she could feel different. His magenta eyes flickered away as he answered. “Yes, I graduated. My Interview is tomorrow. If it goes as planned, I'll be joining you in Heartland as a Groom. As for Bellamine...well, I haven't noticed anything different about her, but I can only assume it's helping her, slowly.”

  Braya narrowed her eyes at him. “Do you know what it is? And why did you send me to that woman in the first place? She didn't turn out to be as helpful as you claimed she'd be.” An idea struck her. “Hey, since you'll become a Groom, you can just talk to her directly from now on. Get the actual cure from her.”

  His magenta eyes flared up to meet hers, and she saw that spark, that challenging, almost aggressive spark smoldering in their depths, just as she had on the day of her Interview. “Braya, I already told you. It has to be you. Did she mention she'd meet with you again? Sometimes patience is the answer.”

  She tilted her head, fixing him with an accusatory look. “Why does it have to be me? You can do it all as well as I could! Have you contacted her recently?”

  He sighed. “Braya, come on. I thought we established this. You just have to trust me, trust her.”

  And suddenly Braya was reminded of what Asher had said earlier that day. Can you honestly tell me you believe the men here are just born like that? They're like...dehumanized. Shells of humans, and nothing more. Not Aspen, Braya couldn't help thinking. He'd never been a shell, never been short of the human functions that she had. Yet, they were always subtle, always hidden, and it was enough to make Braya doubt herself. Was he merely acting? Mimicking the motions and feelings he'd seen her and the rest of the family demonstrate? Or was it real? Braya shook her head—no, she shouldn't think of things like that. Her brother was normal, no matter how abnormal some of his behavior was.

  “Whatever,” Braya shook her head. “I have to go.”

  She told Bellamine goodbye, kissed her forehead, and went out through the main door of the room instead of through the library. It was something Braya instantly regretted, as her mother was burrowed in the corner of the hall, like old furniture collecting dust and shadows, her eyes staring fiercely at Braya as she emerged.

  “Mother,” she said with a start, putting a hand to her chest. Again it was odd that she was home at this time, but Braya couldn't comment on it.

  “Braya, I see you're making it a habit of skipping your lessons,” Mother said with a sneer. “Have you found they don't suit you? Pity we never saw this coming. Maybe then we could have had Harmony tutor you,” her tone was dripping condescension, “Or, perhaps you've forgotten your shoes again?” The way her large, blue-black eyes shifted over to Bellamine's door suggested she knew otherwise.

  Braya's heart was thumping in her ears. “No, Mother, I'm sorry. I just wanted to—”

  “This is why you do not carry the family name of Malister,” she cut in, her words as sharp as a whip. “You have no honor in which to bear it. You act like a worthless Finch, and forever shall be a Vace.”

  Braya's eyes widened, her face flushed. “No! Mother, please. This isn't permanent. I can still...I can still change this. How can I earn my place in this family?” Braya didn't know why she asked such a stupid question, but she felt like she was losing her mother rapidly, like letting water slip through her fingers, and she was desperate for any means to stop it.

  Mother's eyes glittered darkly, as if she'd hoped Braya would ask that. “Go back in time, maybe. Erase all of this Bride business. We can't have it marring our family name.”

  With that she glided past Braya and disappeared around the corner. Braya was left in her wake, like a flower bed trampled by a reckless child. All she could do was stare at the spot her mother had just vacated. Her head was pounding and she found she couldn't move. Was this what it had to come down to? Was her mother that ashamed of her, as to deny her the family name? She wanted to crumple onto the floor and cry.

  No no. She retrained herself. She inhaled a shaky breath and reminded herself of the foreigners. Once she caught them and turned them in, it would be like going back in time and erasing her moment as a Bride. It would be just as good as, she resolved.

  ****

  They met in the field behind Heartland Manor, and Braya was shocked to see a group of at least ten guys—all noticeably around Asher's age—loitering near the decrepit shack door. Many of them were carrying large, shapeless bags slung over their shoulders.

  Asher spotted her immediately and moved to greet her, his hand brushing the exposed skin on her arm. The sensation from before, the one that sunk deep into her skin and made her feel oddly pleasant—almost as if she were melting—broached her skin. Braya made to wrench free, but Asher's fingers locked around her elbow and he squeezed, sending her a silent message to stand at his side. She cast him a glare, and was surpris
ed to see his face set in a somber expression. His blue eyes were as impassive as a sheet of ice, and she couldn't help thinking him beautiful in the night light.

  Braya looked back at the rest of the group and was surprised to see them closely watching her encounter with Asher.

  She recognized the twins—Junho and Jinho?—huddled close together, their hands intertwined, and their eyes sparkling a mischievous green. The way they were interacting was strangely intimate, and she had to avert her eyes.

  A guy who appeared slightly older than Asher, but not a day past twenty one, separated himself from the group and stepped forward, his eyes appraising her. They were a sea-foam green, but frightening in the way they seemed milked over, as if he were blind. The way he was roving his gaze up and down her body, though, gave her the impression he was not blind. His face was set aggressively, he had faint scars along the length of his left jaw line, but they almost looked like tricks of the light, whorls in his skin rather than scars. He wore a black helmet over his head, which concealed any hair he might've had, and his clothes were plain and black.

  “I'm Ness,” he said, his voice gruff. “I'm the captain, but I'm sure you know that already.”

  Braya shivered as she recalled that this had been the man to apply the master-slave link onto her—somewhere, she still didn't know where—and that thought made her want to shrink behind Asher.

  Ness smirked at her apparent discomfort, and his eyes lowered to rest on Asher's hand wrapped around her elbow. He continued to stare at their joined flesh as if he were highly amused—it sent a rash of color over her features—even as he replied. “We'll be racing tonight. I personally don't think it's wise to let you participate,” his eyes snapped up to meet Asher's, despite addressing Braya, “but I suppose you have a lot of pent up energy after applying those boosters. I'll concede this time.”

  With that he spun on his heel and barked an order at the rest of the men lingering behind him. He gestured to something off in the distance, and they all moved to follow him.