True Born

by L. E. Sterling

  Tiny tremors run up and down Margot’s body. I hug her tighter. “I reckon Father wouldn’t want it to get out if we were True Born.” She turns a wry smile on me and taps a cheek with a slender finger, the exact copy of my own. “But maybe that’s why they—forget it.”

  “What, Mar?”

  Margot shakes her head. “Just thinking, maybe they wanted to blackmail Father. The—the men at the Clinic, I mean. But they’d already collected scores of our genetic material, enough to blackmail Father to the moon and back.”

  “If it was blackmail, I don’t know why they felt the need to steal from you like that,” I tell her honestly, my mind reeling with the possibilities.

  My sister is the most open member of the Fox family. And our family’s money, power, and connections are very attractive lures for the desperate. It’s why our father has taught us to always, always stick together. Protect the family, he’s fond of telling us. It’s all you’ll have if things go sour. Always think of the family first, ourselves second. And a secret this vast? …I shudder to think on how this could be wielded against us.

  Still, I’m not convinced that’s the real reason why three Protocols attendants did such a despicable thing to my sister. Margot curls up in a ball and starts to rock. I give her a little hug. “What if they’re not coming back?” she wails.

  It’s not the craziest idea in the world. We’ve read stories on the Feed. Parents abandoning their rare True Born sons and daughters. Or worse: slaughtering them. But those people aren’t Lukas and Antonia Fox.

  “Don’t be silly, Margot. Of course they’re coming back.”

  On the screen, Mr. Gardiner, our astrophysics teacher, begins to drone on about star formations, earth-type planets, frozen rivers and their crystalline structures. He takes a tangent to talk about current cryostasis nanotech and the next generation of space travelers. Doesn’t matter, I think cynically. You can be a goner in space just as easily as on Earth. What matters is what’s on the inside. Neither of us absorbs a word.

  ...

  Two days later my sister and I take in our exploding city on the small, foldable screen NewsFeed. A man donning a long green face mask lobs a grenade at a floor-to-ceiling storefront window. It’s a posh store popular with the Upper Circle, one of the few still capable of catering to the rich. The camera shakes as a roar of smoke and fire blow out the glass. The Feed jumps to another segment.

  Jared had been right. The Lasters were just biding their time.

  “That’s Keller’s,” Margot says at the same time that I recognize the restaurant famous for entertaining Dominion’s rich and powerful. Beneath scenes of mayhem and destruction, bright yellow words flicker across the screen. Special Report: Casualties reported at bombing of the Capitol House.

  Most of our school friends have a parent who works at the Capitol House. Image after image plays of smoke-filled streets, rabble yelling and screaming while a handful of riot police crowd in and drag them away. The world has changed forever during a two-minute NewsFeed.

  It’s no longer insurrection. It’s civil war.

  The tattered, broken buildings are spray-painted red with the message we’ve seen everywhere. Beside the popular slogan, Evolve or Die, a pair of crude eyes, joined sloppily in the center and slightly cross-eyed, watch over the budding war.

  “What do the eyes mean?” I ask. But it’s not Margot who answers.

  “The preachers have a secret club called the Watchers. Think themselves the judge and jury of justice,” says a velvety voice. At the door stands a willowy redhead. Her laughing green eyes nag at me until I remember: she’d come to our father’s house with Storm and Jared. Neither of us heard the woman enter the room.

  “So we meet again.” She leans back against the wall and gives us a smile I wouldn’t call kind. Something about the way she moves reminds me of Jared, especially the Jared who rips out the throats of those who upset him. I shiver. Beside me, Margot’s heart thumps with fear.

  The woman rolls her eyes at us. “I’m not that scary,” she says.

  I straighten. “Yes, you are.”

  “Well, anyway, I’m not about to hurt you two. I’m Kira. One of your security detail?”

  I’m surprised when Margot pipes up. “Why haven’t we seen you around?”

  “I’ve been busy keeping an eye on things around town.” She flops down in the white leather armchair beside us and eyes the NewsFeed. “Dominion is going to the dogs.”

  “Tell us what’s really going on?” Margot asks hopefully.

  “I think you’ve seen it all right there.” Kira indicates the scene of billowing smoke and chaos.

  “But that’s miles away,” Margot argues. “What about here? What about near our house?”

  Kira sighs. “Some fighting in the street. Mostly hand-to-hand. The bombs are some kinda new gimmick. Don’t quite know what to say about those.” Kira scrunches her nose. “They’re bringing in the army tomorrow, or so I hear. But they’re not announcing it on the Feeds. They don’t want anyone to ‘panic,’” she says sarcastically, putting the word in air quotes. “You’re safe enough here, for now.”

  “Right. Because they couldn’t possibly throw bombs high enough to do any damage here on the top floors.”

  “Wow, do they teach sarcasm in charm school these days? Maybe I should enroll.”

  “They don’t accept persons of such advanced age,” I reply tartly. Margot gives me one of her “what the hell are you doing?” glares, yet I can’t seem to help myself. Kira sets me on edge.

  Kira tips her head back and laughs, throaty and deep. “I like you, kid,” she tells me. “You’ve got spunk, I’ll give you that.” In one gliding motion she pops out of the chair and saunters out, looking every inch the predator.

  “What the hell was that?” Margot whispers.

  “I don’t know,” I admit. Margot had always been the better politician. It’s the reason she got on so well with the many dignitaries that have passed in and out of our lives.

  “Well, you better get it under control,” she snaps back. “We need these people.”

  It takes only a second for Margot’s words to penetrate. She’s right. I can’t afford to lose my temper. These people stand between us and the rabble, between us and the Splicer Clinic and their superfreaks.

  They’re also the only True Borns we know.

  Margot’s face has drawn in, thick purple smudges marring troubled gray-green eyes. As her panicked heart slows, clarity washes over me: Margot has a lot more at stake in this relationship with the True Borns than I. Her fear spikes like a forest fire, heavy and acrid and overwhelming. So thick it could choke us both.

  I take in the chaos brimming over on Dominion’s streets. Whatever deluge is coming, the True Borns can help us survive. More than that, they can help us find the answers we seek.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I need a favor.”

  I look up from my toast. Storm frowns at me from across the breakfast table. “Lucy? I need you to accompany me to a party some business associates are throwing tomorrow night.”

  It hadn’t occurred to me that Storm was addressing me. But as I glance around the table—at Margot’s wan, tired face; the throbbing vein in Jared’s neck, accenting the deep V of his matching frown; Storm’s intent, slightly annoyed gaze—I realize I am indeed the subject of this absurd request.

  I glance slyly at Margot. She is the one who enjoys the glitter and whirl of parties, the flirting boys and gossiping girls. I’m the twin who’d rather be under my cozy canopy reading a good book. Margot flutters inside me. Her relief at not being asked is profound.

  A note of suspicion creeps into my voice. “What kind of business associates?”

  “The kind with deep pockets,” Storm replies honestly.

  “What if I know people? Won’t it be strange for me to show up at a party as your guest?”

  “I don’t think so,” Storm dodges. There’s something he’s not telling me.

  “No bloody wa
y,” Jared tosses out. Storm shoots him a look that would melt glass. Bowing his head, Jared clenches his fists and holds himself under control. I marvel at the redness of his ears and the deep shock of pink slashing across his cheeks.

  “What will be expected of me?” I fold my fingers together before me as though contemplating a business negotiation.

  “What do people usually do at these things? Mingling. Small talk. The eating of some little canapé thingies that cost more than most people’s houses.”

  “Do you expect me to dance?”

  Storm nods as though this is a clever thing to ask. “Unlikely. I’ll need to talk to some people there. But always a possibility, if you’re interested.” He grins wolfishly.

  “Come on, Storm,” Jared gripes.

  Storm’s eyes flash iron. He tosses his head, as though the antlers that exist in some shadowy world have grown heavy and barbed. A tick marches across his cheek and with the smallest move, just a slight lean back into his chair, Storm becomes a whole new level of scary. He gazes at Jared through half-hooded eyes. “Unless you’re about to offer to help Lucy get ready for tonight, I suggest you be on your way.”

  Jared shoves away from the table with a growl and stalks out of the room. I follow him with my eyes. What does Margot think of all this? But Margot keeps her eyes on her plate. I feel the walls close in on me, her heavy, panicked heartbeat thudding in my ears like hammer blows.

  “Margot,” I say calmly. “Why don’t we take a walk?” I hold out my hand and lead my sister out of the room. As we pass out of earshot she murmurs, quiet-quiet, in my ear, “You know he’s using you, don’t you?”

  I nod, but inwardly I wonder which of our new True Born friends she’s referring to.

  It had only been a couple of days ago, but it might as well have been a year since Jared sat in my bedroom and kissed me. The secret sits inside me, heavy as a rock. I haven’t told Margot, and now I’m glad I didn’t. Jared can barely stand to look at me. He wants me to disappear. An unwelcome jolt goes through me at the thought that he might have been faking his kiss. What does he want from me? I run fingers absently over my lips, feel the phantom press of his lips there, hot against my own and then vanished. Like another twin suddenly lost.

  ...

  An odd sense of déjà vu tugs at me. But this time it’s Margot who sits on the bed and watches me ready myself for Storm’s party. The dress is beautiful: a teal blue falling to mid-calf and cinched at the waist with a black belt. It’s shiny and soft, made of silk, I think. But the real feature is the neckline, which plunges recklessly between my breasts. I feel naked, exposed: nothing like myself at all. Margot stares at me quizzically.

  “Is it too much?”

  She shakes her head. “No. I was just wondering if I seem half as sophisticated as you.”

  I smile at my other half. “Margot, every man who sees you is in love with you.” I expect her to chuckle. Instead, my sister throws me a funny look I can’t quite decipher, almost as though she thinks I am the beautiful sister, the loved sister. The favored sister.

  “What?” I say, moving over to the bed to give her a hug. “Whatever it is, I’m sorry,” I manage to spit out just as we’re interrupted by a decisive knock on the door. “Who is it?”

  “It’s Dorian Raines, Lucy. I need to speak with you and Margot.”

  “Dr. Raines,” I say as I open the door and usher her in. “I’m just about to go out for the evening.”

  “Yes, I know. I wanted to catch you before you leave.” She stands at the door and glances at Margot. “How are you, Margot?”

  Margot nods. “Better, I think.”

  “What can we do for you?”

  “Dorian, please.” She frowns, her bright blue eyes sparking. “Those DNA panels I ran for you,” she says, crossing the room to stand before us.

  It hadn’t taken much cajoling to get Margot to agree to a final round of Protocols. Knowledge is power, I’d reminded my sister. It had been less than twenty-four hours. Barely enough time to run a good Protocol.

  “Did the tests fail?” My stomach sinks at the thought.

  “No,” the doctor says. “The Protocols were by the book. Everything was standard.” Doc Raines moves toward Margot and crouches down, eyes blazing. “But here’s what’s not standard. I’ve never seen blood like yours. Not anywhere. And I’ve treated a lot of different people.”

  I put my hands on Margot’s shoulder. “You mean True Borns,” I say.

  “Yes.” She nods.

  “Storm said he thought we might be True Born.”

  “Maybe,” the doctor concedes with a shake of her curls, “but at this point I wouldn’t say that definitively.”

  The world drops away from under my feet. “I don’t understand,” I say. But Margot is much quicker to catch on.

  “Not Lasters. Sure not Splicers. But not True Born? Is there something else?”

  Dr. Raines glows as though she’s discovered a lost continent. “True Borns have an incredibly rich genetic diversity. But what each True Born seems to have in common are certain genetic markers, RNA codes that express a certain group of proteins. It’s really the only way we have right now of predicting who will likely be immune to the Plague.”

  I squeeze shut my eyes. Likely. Not certainly. “And us?”

  “You and Margot both have sample markers I’ve never seen before. It’s not quite the same as the True Born Talismans, as we call that class of genetic anomalies. Your blood plasma doesn’t carry the same switches that mark the presence of those antecedents—the special links to our evolution that the True Borns carry. This is something far beyond that. It’s like”—she puts two fingers to her chin—“a group of people, like a family, all with brown hair and eyes. Then suddenly someone is born who is twice as tall, with bright blond hair and blue eyes.”

  “So you’re saying we’re like the tall blond cousins?” Margot jokes with a weak smile.

  “No.” Suddenly serious, Dr. Raines takes Margot’s hand. “I’m saying it’s like that moment when you discover an alien species, Margot. Your DNA, Lucy’s …I can’t even imagine what it points to, what it can do. It’s a complete mystery—and utterly mind-boggling.”

  “The Fox sisters strike again,” Margot manages to joke. She twists fistfuls of the bedspread beneath her. “What do we do with this little bombshell?”

  “Well, that’s why I’m here.” Dr. Raines stands and walks over to me. “Typically I’d assume your DNA has the same genetic content as your sister’s, since you’re conjoined twins. You’d both have developed from the same embryo, which means you both derive from the same set of stem cells. But that’s a typical scenario, and we’re not dealing with typical any longer.”

  “I skipped rather a lot of genomics class.” Margot feigns boredom. “You’re going to have to spell it out for me, Doc.”

  I cross my arms and eye the doctor shrewdly. “She’s saying she needs to run more tests.” I trail off, lost for words. An image of the giant and the albino in their white Protocols flashes through my mind. We thought we were so close to knowing. But now…a bitter pill of disappointment and fear eats away at my stomach. I almost can’t bear it.

  “Thank you so much for coming to speak with us, Dr. Raines. We very much appreciate your candor.”

  “Lucy, wait,” the doctor says as I usher her to the door.

  “Lucy,” Margot says behind me.

  “I’m assuming you’ll want more tests, then. We’ll let you know.”

  The doctor shoves an expensive brown shoe in the door, wedging it open. “Lucy, I know this is what they did. Took a lot of Protocols while they kept you girls in the dark. Probably because they saw the same thing. I won’t do that to you—I’m not doing that to you. I promise you, anything I find out I’ll share with you both immediately. It’s your body, it’s your DNA, your right to know. But listen to me”—she puts a hand over the door before I can shut it in her face— whatever is going on here, we can find it in your blood. And it’
s in your best interest to know. You need to be able to protect yourself.”

  Margot’s bewilderment washes through me, and I fight pinpricks of shame. Doc Raines is right—that is exactly what I’d been thinking. But we need to think this through. We don’t know if we can trust the doctor. Not yet.

  “We’ll get back to you soon,” I say more gently before I slowly close the door and meet the accusing eyes of my twin.

  The moment we hear Doc Raines’s footsteps disappear down the hall, Margot yells, “What was that?”

  I turn and busy myself at the mirror, putting the final touches to what I’m beginning to think of as my “costume.” “That, my dear big sister,” I mock, “was me being smart.”

  Margot crosses her arms and glares at me. “How do you reckon?”

  I take a shaky breath and sit down beside her. Jared had said the Doc would tell us if we’re True Born. It had never occurred to me that there was another choice. Protocols are all well and fine—but I’m no longer convinced they’ll give us the answers we’re looking for.

  “Someone knows what we are, Mar. The Doc can run all the tests she wants. But we need to figure out what they already know.”

  Margot’s eyes narrow. “What ‘they’ do you mean?”

  “I mean”—I take a deep, shaky breath—“what did they see that they would run us through so many times? What do they know—our parents, the Clinic? And why in the Holy Plague fire did they steal from you, Margot? They know something, probably more than the Doc can find out from these Protocols. I’m going to find out what.”

  My sister gazes at me with luminous eyes, trusting eyes. Her hand slides over mine. I feel it there, beneath, above. Inside. “Okay.” She sighs. “Okay, Lu. We’ll play it your way for a little while. Just be careful.”

  Fire ignites the sky outside the window, bathing us in an eerie light.

  “Looks like the rabble have come out to play.” Margot sighs, biting her lip and staring out the window.

  ...

  An explosion rocks the building, sending up an orange flare outside Storm’s office windows. I jump, the heels of my elegant leather shoes scudding to a stop before Jared and Storm and Kira. They watch the war outside with the rapt fascination of children.