Between Burning Worlds

by Jessica Brody

  “Sure, yeah, fantastique. The general wants to turn me into a weapon. So, you know, just another day in Third Estate paradise.”

  Alouette watched as his fingertips found their way under his sleeve and traced the bottom edge of his Skin, instantly reminding her of how much more real and terrifying this must be for him. Someone who actually was in danger of becoming one of the general’s weapons.

  She reached up to touch the scar on her wrist, where her own Skin used to be. She couldn’t remember what it felt like to have one. Sister Denise had removed it when she and Hugo had first come to the Refuge. What must it feel like to have something implanted inside your body? Something watching over you, monitoring you, tracking you. Something that you can’t escape from.

  “Manacles of the mind,” Sister Jacqui had always called them.

  But they were physical manacles too, Alouette now realized. And they were about to become something even more than just chains.

  Gabriel sighed and tipped his head back to look at the sky. “What a view, huh? Are those all moons?”

  She let her gaze drift upward and linger on one of the glowing orbs hanging in the darkness. “Yes. Albion has more than fifteen moons, but only four are visible right now.”

  “Titanique,” Gabriel whispered. “I could get used to this.”

  “Still thinking about moving here?” she asked.

  “Huh?”

  Alouette could feel Gabriel’s eyes on her, but she kept her gaze locked on the sky. “Back in the voyageur, you said you wanted nothing to do with this mission and I couldn’t help but notice that you are still here. You could have ditched us back at the defence complex and saved yourself. You could have slipped out the front door of Dr. Collins’s house the moment we arrived. But you’re”—she turned toward him, and their eyes met—“here.”

  Gabriel glanced away, looking caught out. “Yeah, well, you useless pomps clearly need my help.”

  Alouette cracked a smile. “Clearly.”

  “And if you all died trying to bring down the general, I’m just not sure I could live with that on my conscience.”

  “So you do have one of those?”

  He flashed her a smirk. “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  They fell silent and Gabriel returned his gaze to the sky. Alouette reached into her pocket and ran her fingertips over the metal tag of her devotion beads, thinking once again about that message Denise had sent her.

  When the Lark flies home, the Regime will fall.

  After everything they’d discovered today, Alouette was suddenly seeing Denise’s words differently. With new meaning. New clarity.

  Denise knew about the TéléReversion program. And she also knew that Alouette was the only other person on Laterre who could interpret Dr. Collins’s code. That’s why Denise had hacked Marcellus’s TéléCom after being captured and sent Alouette that message

  The certainty inside of Alouette was growing, filling her with light and purpose and determination. She now understood what Denise was trying to tell her. She could almost hear the sister’s voice whispering in her ear.

  Fly home, Little Lark. Go back to the Refuge. Join us. Help us. Fight this fight.

  “Do you really think we can stop him?” Gabriel asked in a low whisper, breaking into her thoughts.

  Alouette squeezed the tag of her devotion beads, trying to extract every last gramme of strength and conviction the sisters had ever bestowed on her. “Yes.”

  Gabriel turned to her with a doubtful expression.

  “The general won’t have the final TéléReversion program for another week,” Alouette said. “That gives us just barely enough time to get back to Laterre and distribute Dr. Collins’s inhibitor into the water supply before the Skins are updated.”

  “And then what?” Gabriel asked.

  The question caught Alouette off guard. “What do you mean?”

  “You don’t honestly think the general will just give up after we interfere with his weapon, do you?”

  Truthfully, Alouette hadn’t thought that far ahead. What would happen if they succeeded? What would the general do next? She hadn’t the faintest clue. She so longed to talk to the sisters. To ask them what they knew. What had they been planning for all these years? If she could go back now, if she could turn back time and stand in that Assemblée Room again, she knew without a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t run away this time. She would stay. She would listen. She would ask the right questions, just like the sisters had taught her to do.

  “We need your help, Little Lark.”

  She would say yes.

  “What were you doing out here, anyway?” Gabriel asked.

  Alouette shook herself from her reverie. “What?”

  Gabriel made a strange looping gesture with his hands that Alouette soon realized was supposed to resemble a Tranquil Forme sequence.

  “Oh,” she said, feeling slightly embarrassed for having been seen. “I was just … practicing.”

  “For your next prize fight against Ministère officers?” Gabriel asked with another smirk.

  Alouette couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Sort of. I guess. It’s actually called Tranquil Forme. It’s supposed to be a sacred moving meditation. It keeps your mind focused and your body strong. But I’ve recently discovered it can also be used to fight.”

  “So that’s your secret. Where did you learn that?”

  Alouette felt a lump build in her throat. “From the women who raised me.”

  “The Vangarde?” he confirmed.

  She nodded, feeling a flush of adrenaline at the name. It no longer brought her a sense of anger and betrayal. It now brought her strength. Courage. Determination. Perhaps exactly what the sisters had intended.

  “So,” Gabriel said, leaning back on his palms. “Let me see if I got all of this straight. You were raised by the Vangarde, one of which is this Denise person, except you didn’t know you were being raised by the Vangarde. And when you found out, you bolted, because you were, understandably, a little pissed off. So you went looking for your mother at a blood bordel in Montfer, and now you’re here, embroiled in this mess with us.”

  Alouette nodded, swallowing down the lump in her throat at the mention of the sisters. She still wasn’t used to hearing other people talk about them. It was strange. They’d been her own secret for so many years. And now they were no one’s secret. “That’s about the gist of it,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

  “Is that why your biometrics are not in the Communique?” Gabriel asked, sounding like he’d just pieced this together. “Because the Vangarde were somehow able to erase them?”

  Alouette thought back to the arrest warrant with her image on it. The one that had said, “Unknown Female.” She shrugged. “I guess so. I guess they erased them at the same time they removed my Skin. When I first came to live with them after the Renards.”

  Gabriel let out a low whistle. “Wow. So you left some of the most despicable people on the planet to go live with the most famous rebel group on the planet. No one can accuse you of having a boring life.”

  “Is that what they accuse you of?”

  “Me?” He snorted. “Are you kidding? No one would dare accuse me of being boring.”

  “Ah right,” Alouette said, leaning back on her hands. “You’re the criminal mastermind.”

  “And don’t you forget it.”

  “I don’t think you’d let me.”

  Gabriel grinned, and Alouette could suddenly feel his eyes on her again, studying her face in the near darkness. She turned. “What?”

  “Nothing. I just …” Gabriel shook his head. “I’m glad you got out of that place. The Renards were horrible people. I can’t imagine how you might have turned out if you’d stayed.” He kicked at a loose rock with his toe. “Probably like me.”

  “You’re not so bad.”

  “Well, that’s true. But if there’s any justice in the universe, those
Renards are rotting on Bastille right now.”

  Alouette thought about the last time she’d seen the Renards. It was in the Forest Verdure when they’d kidnapped Hugo, the only real father she’d ever known, and were holding him ransom for Inspecteur Limier.

  “What about their daughters?” Alouette asked, remembering the girl who had chased her into the forest on the moto. “Chatine? And Azelle?”

  “What about them?”

  “Do you know what happened to them?”

  “No. Last I saw of any of the Renards was when they boarded the bateau to Vallonay. I assume those two girls turned out as wretched and miserable as their parents.”

  Alouette tilted her head back and stared up at the stars. “I hope not.”

  “You like to see the good in people, don’t you?”

  “Is that bad?”

  “No. It’s not bad, it’s …” But when Gabriel couldn’t seem to find the right word, he just said, “You clearly didn’t grow up how I did. After you hang out with enough scum, you start to see it everywhere.”

  Alouette thought longingly about the dim hallways of the Refuge and the floors she used to clean every day.

  “Maybe,” she pondered, “there’s always something good and clean underneath? Maybe some people just have more layers to scrub away?”

  Gabriel threw his head back and laughed. “You can honestly still say that? After living with the Renards? Those people treated you like garbage. Turned you into their own personal slave. And still had the nerve to complain that your mother didn’t pay them enough to take you in.”

  Alouette’s gaze snapped toward him. “Were you there at the Jondrette when they took me in? Did you see my mother?”

  “No,” said Gabriel apologetically. “You were already living with them when my father started working there. But I just remember Monsieur and Madame Renard constantly griping about what a burden you were. And how the fifteen hundred largs your mother paid them to take you in wasn’t enough.”

  Fifteen hundred largs?

  Wasn’t that the exact amount the madame had said she’d given Lisole before she left town? As an advance on her next blood extractions?

  “Do you remember them saying anything else about her?” Alouette asked.

  Gabriel shook his head. “Sorry. I wish I could be more help.”

  Once more, Alouette felt the hope drain from her. She was starting to wonder if she would ever find out the truth about Lisole Villette.

  “But it sounds like these women who raised you were almost like mothers to you, right?”

  Alouette could feel the grief rolling back toward her. But this time, it felt less like a catastrophic wave and more like a gentle swell lapping at the sides of a bateau. Maybe she had been right. Maybe she would never be still again. Maybe those swells would always be there, rocking her, guiding her, sometimes choppy, sometimes calm, but always reminding her that the ground beneath her feet will never be as solid as she wants it to be.

  “Yes,” Alouette said softly. “They were the only mother figures I had.” She reached into her pocket once more and squeezed her fingers around the beads.

  “And pretty feisty mothers, if you ask me,” Gabriel said, nudging her with his shoulder. “I mean, my maman never taught me how to fight like that.”

  Alouette chuckled softly. “It’s kind of funny. I was so mad at them for not telling me their secrets. Their truth. But it turns out, all along, they were actually giving me everything I needed to know. Wisdom, knowledge, history, philosophy, even the strength and focus and skills to fight.” She paused, staring up at the dark sky. “I think,” she went on softly, almost to herself. “I think they were preparing me for something.”

  “For what?” Gabriel asked.

  She ran her fingers along the surface of the beads, remembering Principale Francine’s words to her that last night in the Refuge.

  “You are more useful than you realize.”

  Alouette sighed. “I’m not quite sure yet.”

  Another quiet lull fell between them before Gabriel said, “Well, you’ll definitely have to teach me that Tranquil whatever stuff someday. Looks like it would be a useful skill for a criminal mastermind to have.”

  Alouette turned and raised an eyebrow. “How about now?”

  “What? Here?” He glanced skeptically around the darkened garden.

  “Why not?”

  He wiped the surprise from his face and leapt to his feet. “Okay. Sure. Yes. Let’s … fight.” He kicked off his boots and darted out onto the grass, looking so much like the little boy who lingered hazily in her memories.

  Alouette pulled her hand from her pocket, drawing out her long string of devotion beads. The metal tag swung back and forth, its surface glinting in the light of four Albion moons. She caught it in her hand and stared down at the engraving that had once brought her so much pride and then so much heartache.

  LITTLE LARK.

  She thought about the secret Vangarde network the Ministère had found. A tiny, invisible thread, connecting these beads to all the others. Her only link to the sisters—their Refuge, their books, their wisdom and knowledge—now severed and dead.

  “We were always going to tell you, Little Lark. We’ve just been waiting.… Waiting for you to be ready.”

  Alouette ran her fingertips over the engraving, feeling all the memories that were wrapped up in those ten little letters.

  Sister Jacqui scribbling on her chalkboard.

  Sister Laurel tending to her herbs.

  Sister Denise tinkering at her work bench.

  Sister Muriel darning the tunics.

  Principale Francine meticulously arranging and maintaining the Chronicles.

  The women who had raised her. The women who had protected the First World knowledge. The women who had tried to save the world.

  Alouette lifted the beads above her head and carefully strung them around her neck. A shiver passed through her as the weight settled on her shoulders. It was familiar and yet brand new at the same time.

  The Vangarde may have been gone, but she was still here.

  “You coming?” Gabriel asked, and Alouette peered into the darkness to see him bouncing lightly on his toes. His fists were raised in front of his face like he was going to block a punch.

  Alouette chuckled softly and joined him on the grass. “First rule,” she said, her expression turning as hard and steely as Principale Francine’s. “You master your mind, your breath, and the meditation first. Then you can use the sequences to fight.”

  She grabbed on to his wrists and eased his arms down to his sides. “Close your eyes and take a long breath in.”

  Gabriel shot her a wary look. “Is this a trick? Is this when you punch me in the face? Because I’m not sure I can take another punch in the face.”

  “I promise not to punch you in the face.”

  Gabriel scrutinized her for a long moment before finally closing his eyes and drawing in a breath.

  “Now a long breath out,” Alouette instructed. “Good. Do that again. And this time really focus. Feel the breath coming, deep and strong, into your lungs. Yes. Now feel the air leave. Every molecule evaporating out of you.”

  Gabriel peeked one eye open. “When do we start, you know, fighting?” He comically kicked the air.

  Alouette shook her head and held a finger to her lips. Gabriel grunted and shut his eyes again.

  “The first sequence is called Sols Ascending,” Alouette said. “Open your eyes and follow me.” She bent deeply at the knees and raised her arms slowly and gracefully into the air, her palms facing up. Gabriel’s face was taut with concentration as he attempted to imitate her.

  “Good. Try to relax,” she told him. “Keep your muscles loose and your mind strong. Let’s try the second sequence. It’s called Ghostly Stars.”

  Alouette took three fluid steps forward, circling her arms in an alternating pattern in front of her. She could feel the reassuring clink of her devotion beads as she moved.

&n
bsp; Behind her, there was a soft scuffle and then, “Sols!”

  Turning back, she saw Gabriel tripping awkwardly over his own feet as his hands tangled around each other. She tried not to laugh as she walked toward him. “Here, let’s get the arm sequence down first, then we’ll work on the steps.”

  She spun him around and stood behind him. “Relax,” she said, guiding his arms. “Keep your shoulders away from your ears. Keep your gaze straight ahead. Move the left hand up first like you’re waving at a friend, and now follow with your right. The same easy—”

  “What are you doing?”

  Alouette jumped at the sound of the voice coming from the back door of the house. She and Gabriel both turned at once to see Marcellus standing there, watching them with an unreadable expression.

  Alouette’s hands fell from Gabriel’s shoulders. “We were just … I was teaching Gabriel how to fight.”

  “Okay, that might be a tad inaccurate,” Gabriel said, flustered. “Obviously I know how to fight. She was just showing me—”

  “I think you should both come inside.”

  “What happened?” Alouette asked, her stomach twisting at the gravity she could now hear in Marcellus’s tone.

  “The Red Scar have sent another message to the Ministère.”

  - CHAPTER 44 - MARCELLUS

  AT FIRST, THE TÉLÉCOM SHOWED nothing but darkness. A darkness that seemed to penetrate deep into Marcellus’s bones. Cerise, Alouette, and Gabriel were gathered around him in Dr. Collins’s kitchen, their gazes fixed on the screen. No one had breathed since he’d pressed play on the footage.

  Then the darkness was speared by a glowing beam of light that flashed and bobbed, cutting through the void.

  In his audio patch, Marcellus could hear muffled footsteps. The creak of a door opening. A scrape of metal. All the while the beam of what had to be a flashlight continued to sweep and bounce across the screen.

  “Droids are cleared,” a breathless voice crackled and wheezed, like it was being transmitted from elsewhere through some kind of communication device.

  “Copy that,” another voice responded. This one was crisp and clear. And even with just those two words, Marcellus recognized the voice and a chill whispered down his spine.