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by Steven dos Santos


  Cypress is standing not more than ten feet away, peering over the railing at the crowd below. She looks stunning in her uniform. Her raven hair’s been washed and combed to a lustrous sheen, plaited at the sides and joined in a long braid that hangs down her back. Her skin looks like it’s been polished to a smooth creamy finish, with just the right hint of pink on her cheeks to complement her wine-colored lips.

  She could almost pass for one of those princesses pictured in the Establishment’s banned fairy tales-except for her eyes, which are vacant and puffy. In the three months that I’ve known her, I’ve never seen her look so … defeated.

  I walk over to her. “What’s wrong? Why haven’t you gone into the auditorium?”

  She barely glances at me. “Not sure I can face them. Don’t know what to say.”

  “Them? You mean your Incentives?” I sit down beside her.

  She nods. I can feel her shoulder trembling against mine.

  I sense that now’s the time she’ll be the most receptive. I can’t help her unless I know exactly what’s troubling her, even though there’s probably nothing I can do. Reaching out, I hesitate a moment, then take her hand, expecting her to rip it away and shove me. But she does neither.

  “Cypress. I know it’s none of my business, but after the Fallen Five disappeared, how did you … I mean …?”

  “How did I survive?” Her smile is laced with bitterness. “Believe me, I’ve asked myself that question many times over the years. When my brother was recruited, his only options were my mother and me. Two out of the ten Incentives who had no one to fight for us after the Recruits disappeared. Since it couldn’t be proven one way or another that the Fallen Five had deserted, the Establishment decided that rather than shelve us, the adults would be taken to the mines.” She pauses. “I never saw my mother again.”

  She looks away as if she’s reliving that painful memory. I can see the anguish etched into her face as if by a powerful chisel.

  “I’m so sorry, Cypress. I know what losing a mom feels like.”

  “She was one of the lucky ones. Probably died within a year or two.” She shakes her head. “Us children weren’t as fortunate. We were forced into servitude at the Emporiums. Harmony House.”

  The Emporiums. Centers of unspeakable perversions, where every depravity can be purchased by sick minds in possession of enough currency.

  Her eyes squeeze shut. “I was only six at the time. Unfortunately, I was a very pretty child … ”

  “I’m so sorry.” I squeeze her hand. “But with your brother missing and your mother dead, who are your Incentives?”

  She takes a deep breath and stares at me, her eyes hollow, empty wells. “My two children.”

  I can barely contain my rage. “Those animals. They took an innocent young girl and-”

  She sneers. “I’m the animal, Lucian. I wanted to have a child, replenish the stock. Though I didn’t bargain on twins.”

  I grab both her wrists. “But why-?”

  “So I’d be deemed tainted and decommissioned. Nothing spoils the mood more in the pleasure pits than a girl who’s in the breeding stage.” Her eyes meet mine. “Boys have a longer shelf life.”

  I grip Cypress tighter, this time to steady myself.

  “So you see, I used my own children-gave them up as ransom-to get transferred from that hell hole to a work farm without ever once laying eyes on them.” A chuckle dies in her throat. “And now it’s all come full circle and I’m getting exactly what I deserve. No wonder my brother abandoned me. He could sense what kind of terrible, selfish person I am.”

  “Cypress, don’t … ”

  Her eyes grow soft. “I never told you this, and I’ll deny it if you ever repeat it, but I really admire you, Lucian. The way you love your little brother … the way you’ll do anything to be with him again, unlike my brother. Maybe that’s why a part of me still hates you.”

  “Maybe you’re wrong about your brother. Don’t you think it’s possible that something could have prevented him from coming after you, something beyond his control?” Thoughts of our experience with the Fleshers turn my blood cold. I block them out as best I can. “I mean, you have no way of knowing that he abandoned you.”

  “Maybe someday I’ll find him and I’ll be able to hear the explanation from his own lips. Until then, the Orestes I knew is dead to me.”

  A jolt rips through my body. My brain bobs in my skull. How do I tell her what became of her brother?

  “Spark? Are you okay? What’s wrong?”

  I shake my head. “We’d better get inside.”

  Every time the door to the small reception room swings open my heart surges-then deflates like an old tire at the sight of yet another stranger crossing the threshold. It’s been over thirty minutes already-the Graduation Ceremony is about to start-and still no sign of Cole or Mrs. Bledsoe.

  And Digory’s still a no-show, too. I’m finally going to find out who his Incentives are, find out how who is so important to him.

  Who it is that he loves …

  A high-pitched giggle echoes across the room. Ophelia’s jumping up and down, embracing a woman and a little girl. She reminds me of that naive girl who bounced into Slade’s welcoming-committee speech on the first day we arrived at Infiernos, so long ago it seems now. The sight of their tender family reunion causes sadness to cluster in my throat, making it hard to swallow.

  What’s taking Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe so long? I’m about to rip through my skin.

  “Don’t panic, Spark,” Gideon says, as if reading my mind. “I’m sure your family will be here any minute.”

  He’s standing alongside two other people, a man and a woman with shell-shocked eyes, their drab, plain clothes in stark contrast to his neatly pressed uniform. The woman’s graying hair is twisted into a bun, resembling a wrung-out washcloth. Even though the skin under her eyes is dark and puffy, her stare is strikingly similar to Gideon’s.

  The man has his arms folded. His salt-and-pepper hair recedes from his forehead like an outgoing tide, draining what’s left of its color. The tip of his aquiline nose veers sharply to the left as if it’s been broken.

  “These must be your folks,” I say, trying to draw them in with a smile. But it’s as though I’m not even there.

  Gideon fidgets, his eyes bouncing back and forth between the couple and me. “Mom, Dad, this is-” He looks at me pointedly. “This is my friend, Lucian Spark.”

  Friends. Yes. After Cassius, I never thought I’d be able to call anyone else that ever again. But with everything we Recruits have been through, we’re bonded now for the rest of our lives, however short that might turn out to be.

  I hold out my hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. and Mrs. Warrick.”

  Mrs. Warrick stares at my hand as if it’s covered in manure. “We know who you are.”

  Gideon’s eyes swell. “Mother!”

  My extended hand drops to my side.

  Deep fissures burrow into the corners of Mr. Warrick’s eyes. “This is a family discussion. You’re not welcome here.” His voice is gruff.

  “No, Dad! Please!” Gideon steps between us.

  I clap Gideon’s back and can’t help notice his wince. “It’s okay. Really.” I turn and nod at the Warricks, then look back at Gideon. “You should be very proud of your son. Enjoy your evening.”

  As I walk away, I catch a few of Mrs. Warrick’s hushed words. “An enemy of the state! You don’t want to be mixed up with him. You know I always do what’s best for you-”

  But her voice is drowned out by the thumping of blood ringing in my ears.

  Something must be wrong …

  Pushing my way toward the tall glass doors at the rear of the hall, I almost crash into Ophelia and her family.

  “I’m so sorry,” I mumble.

  Ophelia is beaming. “It’s okay. I was coming over to introduce you to Mama and Maddie.”

  The girl’s a couple of years younger than Ophelia. Whereas Ophelia’s hair is-was
-a tangle of curls, her sister’s hangs limp and lifeless. It matches the blankness of her narrow eyes, which are hammocked by pronounced folds of flesh. Her forehead is broad on her small head. Her tattered dress drapes her body with all the finesse of rumpled laundry on a clothesline.

  Ophelia hugs her close. “This is my little sister Madeleine.”

  Madeleine drops her eyes and ducks behind her sibling, peeking up at me from the shield of Ophelia’s shoulder.

  I wink at her. “Hello, Madeleine. My name’s Lucian.”

  “She’s a little shy around new people.” Ophelia squeezes her again. “It’s all right, Maddie,” she coos. “You don’t have to be afraid.”

  I peer around Ophelia and stare into the child’s eyes, smiling. “What a pretty dress.”

  She cups a hand over her smile and looks down at her shoes. “Nife to meetchu,” she mumbles.

  Her mother sighs. “For goodness sakes, Ophelia. Don’t let her”-she glares at Madeleine-“cling to you like that. It’s embarrassing enough we have to parade her around in front of everyone without worrying about her wrinkling your uniform.”

  Madeleine’s eyes puddle. Her smile fades and she shrinks into the background like Ophelia’s shadow.

  Despite their mother’s warnings, Ophelia kneels in front of her sister and wraps her in a hug. “Don’t worry, sweetie. Mama’s just nervous. You look sooo beautiful tonight. That’s why everyone’s staring at you instead of ugly ol’ me!” She plants a kiss on her forehead.

  Mrs. Juniper rolls her eyes and smiles at me, exposing pointy teeth. Her resemblance to Ophelia is uncanny. Sure, there are a few more creases the cheap cosmetics can’t conceal, but it’s like looking at Ophelia fifteen years from now. Despite the worn fabric of her dress, she wears it with an elite air over her hourglass figure.

  Her eyes twinkle. “You’re Spark, aren’t you?”

  I nod, bracing myself for the same disdain I received from Gideon’s folks. Instead, she surprises me by clamping her arms around me in a tight hug and planting wet kisses on both my cheeks. A hand slithers across the back of my neck. “Such a bright boy. And handsome, too.” Her lips brush against my ear. “Pity we had to meet under such … trying … circumstances. Perhaps we can work out an arrangement that will be mutually beneficial to both you and my daughter … ”

  She rambles on and on, something about working with Ophelia to eliminate the competition during the Trials, but her words become an insect’s drone as I focus on the scene taking place just behind her.

  Two sets of bright green eyes are peering up at Cypress, belonging to a little boy and girl not much older than Cole. Her twins. Their hair is shiny black, just like Cypress’s; their cheeks are flushed with pink. Both are dressed in neatly pressed matching amber jumpsuits. Their little hands are entwined.

  Cypress turns away from them. Her eyes meet mine. She’s trembling-rage or pain, I can’t be sure. Tears stream down her face.

  A crushing weight squeezes all the air free of my lungs.

  I have to get out of this room.

  Nodding as politely as I can, I pull away from Mrs. Juniper. “It was a pleasure meeting you. But I really have to find my family.”

  Before she can protest, I barrel past her and push open the terrace doors with such force I can feel them rattling in their hinges.

  Under the blanket of a thousand stars, Digory leans against the railing, gazing out at the coastline that’s just beyond the entrance to Infiernos. The sparkling ocean is kissed by the shimmering rays of the full moon. Digory’s uniform seems painted on over his broad shoulders and narrow waist; his hair is combed back and glistens like spun gold.

  When he notices me, blue dawn blooms in his eyes. His mouth melts into a smile that almost blinds me with its brilliance.

  I simmer in his warmth, which is as comforting as a pot of broth on a cold wintry night.

  “You clean up nice, Recruit,” he whispers.

  “You don’t look too shabby either, Tycho,” I whisper back. “Guess you made a full recovery after our encounter with those Fleshers.”

  “Feeling much better … like I could fly right now … ”

  I chuckle. “Probably all those enhancers they loaded your blood with in the Bio-Pool.”

  He closes the gap between us. His smile disappears, replaced with a look of burning intensity, like comets ripping through the atmosphere. “I don’t think that’s the reason at all.”

  The radiance of his eyes … the moon … the stars … overwhelm my senses. I feel lightheaded. “I didn’t see you inside … was wondering where you were … ”

  “Sorry. I got tied up. My Incentive … we had a lot to talk about.”

  My eyes risk blindness and find his again. “Your family? You’ve seen them?”

  He seems surprised. “Why, yes. Haven’t you seen your brother and Mrs. Bledsoe yet?”

  The simmer in my blood starts to bubble into panic. The Warricks. The Junipers. Cypress’s twins. And now Digory. Everyone accounted for except Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. “No. I haven’t seen either of them.” I can feel the color draining away from my face.

  “I’m sure they’re okay.” His hands grip my waist and pull me into him. “Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.”

  I nestle my head against his chest. My ears are filled with the deep sounds of our pounding hearts, beating like a hailstorm until they synch into one strong, steady rhythm.

  “I’m scared, Digory. And not just for them … the others too. Cypress, Gideon, Ophelia. I saw them inside, with their families … it hit me just how real this all is … how much they’ve all suffered … everyone … it’s just like you told me when we first met, but I was too wrapped up in my own situation to see it … it has to end … ”

  “It will. But we have to be strong.” He tilts my head up with a delicate touch of a finger on my chin. “No matter what.”

  My heartbeat ratchets ahead, leaving his trailing like its shadow. “What do you mean?”

  “Please. Let’s just have this one moment, just you and me, no one else … one moment where we don’t talk about any of that … where none of it exists.” He pulls me close again and nuzzles his head against my collar. “Where we can pretend tomorrow is a lifetime away … ” His voice is burdened with a deep emotion that I haven’t heard before, and it makes me wonder just how much he’s been bottling up inside.

  For the first time, I feel that it’s him who needs me.

  I clasp my hands around his back. We start to sway.

  He sighs against me. “Our first dance … ” His breath is warm and soothing against my neck.

  I laugh. “All that’s missing is the music.”

  His lips graze my ear and it’s like fireflies are buzzing around my heart. “If you close your mind to everything else and listen, you can hear it.”

  My eyelids sag, giving way to the hypnotic lilt of his voice. The only time that exists is now. Nothing before, nothing after.

  Soon the night’s a symphony: our hearts beating like percussion in time with the chirping crickets, the wind whistling through the trees, the branches twanging as they bend in the wind’s wake, the pounding surf crashing onto the shore like powerful cymbals …

  We spin around the terrace, our cheeks pressed against each other, holding onto each other so tight I can’t tell where I end and he begins. Soon I’ve lost track of how much time’s passed. All I know is that I don’t want it to ever end …

  But it has to. This is much bigger than Digory and me. Bigger than our families. It’s about the right to live … the right to dream … the right to hope …

  To have a future to look forward to.

  Our dance slows to barely a sway, and finally we’re just standing still. When I open my eyes, he’s staring at me, his face a mask of sadness as if he’s read my mind. We stay like that for a few minutes, drinking each other in like men dying of thirst, not knowing when or if another sip will ever come.

  He caresses my cheek. “Thank you.”

&
nbsp; “What’re you doing out here with me? Shouldn’t you be inside with your family?”

  Now it’s him that looks away. “I needed a few minutes to myself. To clear my head.” His eyes connect with mine again. “There’s so much I wanted to say to you … I needed to say to you … before … ”

  “Before what?”

  “Before the Trials.”

  My blood cools to lukewarm. All this time Digory’s avoided talking about his family, who his Incentives even are, although he risked everything in being open with me about his involvement with the resistance-to the point where it put him in this mess right alongside me. My muscles twitch. As curious as I am to know what he’s been holding back, there’s a part of me that’s afraid to know what secret could possibly be darker than treason against the Establishment. I’m not sure I can handle whatever it is he has to say, especially when I’m running out of things and people to believe in.

  His fingers interlace with mine and he leans in close. “You’re going to hear certain things tonight, but you have to trust me.”

  The sound of my heart spatters through my ears like raindrops kerplunking off the gutters back home. Every second of wondering is a prolonged agony.

  “Just tell me,” I whisper.

  The doors to the terrace burst open. “You two. Get inside,” Slade grumbles from the threshold. “Ceremony’s about to start.”

  “But I haven’t seen my brother or Mrs. Bledsoe yet.” I take a step toward her. “Where are they?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” She avoids my gaze, fixing her eyes on Digory instead. “Your husband’s been looking for you.” Then she pivots on her boots and disappears inside.

  Husband?

  twenty-one

  Digory has someone already? Of course he does. Yet how could he let me think … make me feel …? You’d think after everything that’s happened, I’d be numb to anything else by now. But between my missing family and this latest reveal, why does it feel like my heart’s been shoved into a grinder and sliced into thousands of bloody clumps?

 

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