“Fine.” I nod to my back, and try not to wince at his heft upon me. I flap my wings, once or twice, preparing for liftoff. But then Nkosazana squeezes me tighter, her cheek pressed squarely against mine, and my heart stutters and goes weak, and my mind . . . oh, my mind skips back to all those nights I’d spent in her bed, how many times we’d nearly been given away by too loud of a moan or too shrill of a squeal, while her father tinkered away in his study, just the next room over. The thrill of being so young, so reckless, so mortal, it sort of infects me. We’re a couple inches off the ground when my powers give out, and my wings revert to wimpy chicken winglets.
“I swear, that’s never happened before,” I stutter as I touch back down, feeling like a moth tossed around by a windstorm. “Let me . . . let me get a moment to compose myself.” And maybe take a cold shower.
“How about we take a carriage?” Nkosazana offers. “I can get us one. Meet me at the city’s edge, right after sundown.”
“You know, you really don’t have to accompany us,” I say to Chimwe as we wait for Nkosazana to arrive. I pace back and forth, wearing my best Auben suit, checking that my hair is symmetrical, and that my skin isn’t bunching, and that my claws and fangs are nicely retracted into brittle, useless nails and teeth. “The city needs you.”
“The city can run itself now. You need me.”
I scoff. But he’s right. Without him, none of our charmed city’s successes would have been possible. It stands to reason that this excursion of ours won’t be successful without him either. But still, I can’t help but imagine how this would play out with just Nkosazana and me. I practice my smile, wondering if we’d be better off making the hike after all. It’d take forever, but we’d certainly draw less attention than clomping around in an oryx-drawn carriage.
“Hey!” Nkosazana says, startling me, and making the seams of my suit go wonky. I quickly tidy myself, but get lost in the beauty I see before me. There was no clopping of oryx hooves to warn me of her coming, no smell of beastly excrement, only that sweet, brassy smoke and the faint purr of a mechanical engine. It’s an oryxless carriage, supple and curving, big bold wheels, chassis boasting warm wood tones that blend into the landscape, and a cloth top made of what looks like chameleon scales. If I wasn’t looking right at it, I’d have a hard time believing it was sitting in front of me.
Nkosazana gets out of the carriage, looking so pleased with herself. “Oh, man, they’re going to have my hide if we don’t get her back before they notice she’s missing. We can take her most of the way, then hike the rest. That should leave us with three or four hours to get the goods.” She looks up at me, realizes that I’m staring at her. “What?”
“Nothing. It’s just reminding me of old times. Us sneaking around your house after everyone had gone to sleep.”
“Well, that was a long time ago,” Nkosazana says, laying out a map of the city before us. “Right now, we need the power of a god, not the musings of a horny teenager. If you can’t handle that, we’re calling this off right now.”
“No, you’re right,” I say, groveling like a kicked dog. This is business. I need to step up. I need to focus. “First and foremost, we need to make sure we avoid our twins. Mine especially. You feel even the slightest pain of proximity, we reverse course.”
Chimwe nods, pointing at a dot on the map. “We should start here, farthest from the Sanctuary, and work our way around.” His finger traces a lazy path between the dozen or so dots marking the locations of subsecular tech, but then abruptly comes to a halt. “Ohhh,” he heaves, like someone’s kicked the wind out of him. I look at his finger. I recognize the street name immediately, one we’d passed dozens of times on our way to visit Chimwe and his family.
“Oh, what?” asks Nkosazana.
“That proximity thing—” I say “—is probably going to be an issue with that one. That’s two streets over from Chimwe’s house.”
“Well, he can hang behind on that run, right? Shouldn’t be an issue,” Nkosazana offers, but looking in Chimwe’s eyes, I can see it is too late. This change has been much harder on him than he lets on, and separation from Chiso has made his soul brittle. Chimwe and Chiso were bound so closely, so perfectly, that love and hate became indistinguishable and meaningless, and seeing that street name has broken the dam that was holding it all back.
I hang an arm around my cousin-sibling, hoping that our own bond is strong enough that I can temper some of his pain. He shakes beneath me, ever so slightly. “I’m fine. I can stay back,” he says, nodding to make us believe his lie, and maybe to make himself believe it as well. Deception, including self-deception, is the most vital tool we’ll need to make this plan work, and yet I get the sinking feeling that sneaking our way into the city is going to be the easy part. I should order him to stay home, but at this point, I’m selfish and realize how much I need him with me.
So I say nothing.
We tuck into the carriage, and it eats up the distance between our charmed city and the backside of Grace Mountain, big fat tires rolling over the ragged landscape like a stroll along the beach. We stash the carriage in overgrowth, then look up, preparing for our climb. The darkness presses upon us, but I lead the way, my vision as keen as a night predator’s. Nkosazana trudges close behind me, not missing a step, and Chimwe lags, carrying our gear like he’s a damned martyr.
I lose my breath when the Sanctuary breaks into view. We are about as far from it as we can get, and yet I feel a twinge in my gut, ever so slight. Maybe it’s just nerves. I hope it’s just nerves, or our adventure will be over sooner than we’d anticipated. Twenty minutes later, the city bowl itself comes into view. We stop. We stare.
In a little over three years, we’d scraped together a living, thriving city out of nothing but mud and our vices. Here, it seems the city that cast us out has crippled under the weight of its own virtue. A yellow-brown haze carpets the city bowl, buildings have been gutted, and everything is lit by the brazen flames from several smoldering trash heaps. The smell is so awful, so potent that even Chimwe and Nkosazana cover their noses.
It isn’t what I’d expected by a long shot. All this time I’d envied the kind of lives they’d have without us, but the Cape practically sits in ruins now.
“Oh, this is so awful,” Chimwe says, losing his balance. Nkosazana wedges a shoulder under his armpit and manages to keep them both from toppling down the mountain.
“Don’t go feeling sorry for them,” I say. “They’re the ones that kicked us out.”
“Your brother kicked us out,” Nkosazana says. “They didn’t do anything.”
“Well, they certainly didn’t come looking for us, begging us to come back,” I huff, then head down, feet trudging through the undergrowth, my eye on the Eastern Palades. Dassie rats and slithering things skitter out of my way when they hear me coming. I hiss at them, irritated and focused on the task at hand. It takes me a moment for it to sink in, but these prey animals are usually long gone before I can get anywhere near them. I step faster, putting a little extra distance between Nkosazana and me. I’m sure it’s probably nothing. Probably. Not worth the worry now, anyway, because all of a sudden, we’re in the thick of the city outskirts.
We wear dark cikis, the color of shadows, but still we stand out in this place. Chimwe scoops up a handful of dirt and ash and rubs it over his face, his clothes, his hair, until he becomes one with the filth that surrounds us. We follow suit, then step softly through the dead-quiet streets.
“Here,” Nkosazana says, pointing down a street to a building made of skeletal remains of chipped brick and crumbled mortar. I lead the way, keeping my eyes and ears peeled for danger. We step over the rubble that used to be a wall, and into a living room with furniture strewn and covered in soot. The ceiling is caved in, revealing another living room above. “Up there.”
“Of course it’s up there,” I moan. We poke around a bit, but can’t find a clear path to any stairs, so this is it.
“Give me a boost,” Nk
osazana says. I kneel, so relieved that no one asked me to fly up there and get it. If I have to suffer through the humiliation of those little chicken wings one more time . . .
“I’ve got this,” Chimwe says, being so helpful. So annoying. He grabs Nkosazana by the waist. She gasps in surprise as she’s hoisted up onto Chimwe’s shoulders. She scrambles up into the living room, then looks back down at my cousin-sibling, as impressed as I am aggravated.
“Thanks,” she says quickly. “I’ll just be a moment. I think I see it.” Then she disappears into the darkness.
“She shouldn’t be up there alone,” I say.
“She probably shouldn’t,” Chimwe says to me, dragging an upturned sofa under the gape in the ceiling. “I’ll go check on her.”
“I should be the one checking on her,” I say. “What if there’s some creeper up there, waiting in the shadows for a victim?”
“Nobody needs to check on me!” comes Nkosazana’s voice from the pit of darkness. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
Chimwe and I stand face-to-face, the tension between us as thick as spit. Maybe he’s not tagging along from the goodness of his own heart. “You like her, don’t you?” I whisper. “All of a sudden, you’re a man, and are having feelings for a woman, and now you want to steal her away from me.”
Chimwe sucks his teeth so hard, I’m surprised he has any enamel left. “You know I love and respect you, but you need to stop being such an asshole.” Chimwe quickly adds a submissive “my Lord,” without breaking the intensity of his stare. “For one, that’s not how any of this works. Two, my love life, and yes I have one, is not up for discussion. And three, I have to be here, running interference because you’re so desperate for affection, you can’t control your damned powers, and if this continues, it’s going to mean bad things for Akinyemi. So just act like the god we need, okay?”
“I thought you were different, Chimwe, but you’re just as greedy as the rest of them. What use am I if I can’t provide you with raw materials, is that it? You tolerate me as long as your bellies are fed and your city sparkles like a pretty jewel? And you think if I fall in love, I’ll be reduced to a sniveling wreck that’s no good to anyone?”
“I don’t know. Maybe!” Chimwe gestures wildly. “But if it does happen, and if you’re truly happy, there’s nothing more I’d want for you. Akinyemi would be fine, I suppose. It’s just that I worry . . .”
“What?” I demand.
“I worry more about what will happen if you fall out of love.”
I don’t even have time to flinch, when from behind me a deep growling sets my hairs on edge. I jump and let my bones go to dust, landing on four paws, ready to eviscerate what I should have smelled coming. A demon dog. Frothy-mouthed, teeth like gleaming white sabers, eager to drag me back to the hell it’s escaped from. I tense my haunches, ready to pounce, only they’re not haunches, just Auben’s hairy thighs. Slowly, I stand, keeping my eyes locked into those demon-filled ones, seeing myself. What it must see in my eyes is not nearly as menacing, as it approaches, closer and closer. I press up against Chimwe, arms spread wide to protect him.
“I’m going to make a run for it,” I say. “While it’s distracted, you get Nkosazana out of here.”
Chimwe pushes himself in front of me. “No, Lord. I’ll distract it. If you’ve lost your powers . . .”
“I haven’t lost them. They’re just muddled.” We step back farther until the wall catches us, and there is nowhere else to go except through jaws and teeth. “I just need to concentrate.”
But before I can try again, the growling gets deeper. Darker. This can’t be it. The end. I mean, I knew coming into this that I’d have to face my demons. I just never expected for them to have such awful breath. Teeth gleam, then they’re upon my arm. The pain burns hot, and before I can scream, there’s a flash of gray, and a thud, and a sharp whine. I clutch my arm and I turn into Chimwe’s chest, flinching at the smell of blood.
Chimwe and I pull back from our shivering embrace. Look each other over, then down at that demon dog, a large chunk of concrete wedged right into its neck. We look up, and see Nkosazana standing solidly on the fulcrum of a lever made from a wood post that likely used to be a part of someone’s bed frame.
“What’s wrong with you two?” she asks. “It was a street dog. Maybe a little rabid. A few years living in the camps, you learn to handle yourself. Guess you’re both just soft from city living. Can I get a hand, here?”
Chimwe and I step around the pile of bone and fur that used to be a dog, then help Nkosazana down to the first floor. She takes one look at my bloody arm, then pulls out a swath of linen and tosses it at me.
“You’re going to want to wrap that up,” she says, then opens her satchel to reveal a metal doodad that looks like some sort of torture device. “Got the calipers. Fourteen stops to go. I hope they’re all this easy.”
“Me, too,” I say. And it scares me that I mean it.
We step back into the night, and I can’t help but replay the words Chimwe had said. I’ve had my fair share of breakups, and none of them ever went over well. Temper has never been my friend on these occasions, and I would be lying if I said my fist hadn’t put holes in a few unsuspecting walls. What damage would I do with the fist of a god? Fists that can break open the earth and strangle the life out of stars?
By the sixth grab, we stop sneaking, stop gripping the shadows, stop trying to be inconspicuous. The three of us walk down the middle of the street, feet crunching through debris and trash. We’re still in the thick of night, and no one is about, save for the odd pile of clothes and dirt scavenging alleyways for scraps. They scatter like feral animals when they see us coming.
“I don’t get how things could have gone so bad, so fast,” says Nkosazana.
“It doesn’t matter. We’ll be home soon,” I say. “What’s next on the list?”
“Three blocks down, two to the left,” she says after consulting her map.
Chimwe is uncharacteristically quiet, then I see it, to the right, looming over the buildings that surround it. His father’s corporation. The building that was once his future. All that beautiful glass has been busted out, leaving a skeleton of metal.
“You okay?” I ask.
Chimwe nods.
“Do . . .” I pull him into a one-armed hug. “Do you want to go see it? I’m sure we can spare a little time.” I glance at Nkosazana.
“We really need to stick to the plan,” she says.
“But we’re already here,” I plead, like she’s the god and I’m one of her followers.
“Fine. If you’re quick about it,” Nkosazana concedes. She pulls her water canteen, takes a long swig, then offers it to me.
I guzzle, washing down the soot that’s settled at the back of my throat. “Chimwe, you ready?”
Chimwe doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t flinch at the idea either, so I nudge him in that direction, and he goes willingly. Nkosazana hangs back a bit, following at a respectable distance—far enough to give us some privacy, not quite close enough to expose her to additional risks. We make our way into the building, stepping carefully over sea blue piles of glass in the foyer. Clothes piles scatter like hermit crabs, leaving campfires smoldering. We make our way up the stairs, and soon we are standing in my uncle-father’s office, glass wall still mostly intact, overlooking despair and darkness. The portraits of Chimwe’s family hang on the wall, covered in layers of grime. Chimwe smudges his hand through the family portrait, revealing their smiling faces.
His fingers tremble, then he doubles over abruptly, starts heaving. I bite my lip, wondering if it was wrong to bring him here. He falls to the floor, moaning and writhing in pain.
“Help me up,” he rasps.
“No, you rest,” I say, taking a step toward our father’s gin closet to help him self-medicate. Chimwe snatches my hand.
“Help me up!” he demands this time. So I wedge myself under his arm and lift. He takes a few steps toward the doorway. I look
up and see her, clinging to the doorframe like the world is about to slip from under her feet. She’s wrapped in layers of dingy cloth, head to toe, but the ones at her face hang loose. Her face is thinner, chin and cheekbones are prominent—not just from the split, but also from malnourishment. I smile, maybe more of a grimace, but she smiles back, even through the pain.
“Hello, cousin,” I say to Chiso, when I realize Chimwe is too bent for words.
She exhales something, then tries again. “Cousin,” she greets me. Then, “Brother . . .” I swear it sounds like a foreign word coming off her tongue.
“Sister,” Chimwe manages, still stepping forward.
“Maybe we should stop here,” I suggest. The pain is only getting worse the closer they get, but they’ll have none of it. The agony of proximity causes Chimwe to crumple, and there’s nothing I can do but watch. He hits the floor and wails out. Chiso presses her hands to her stomach, then totters forth as if a single misstep would cause her entire being to shatter. The determination in her eyes is haunting. Finally, the siblings’ fingers touch, but it is not enough. Not after so long. Not after so much. They manage an embrace. There is panting and hissing and moaning and wailing, as if together they are birthing their relationship anew. Chimwe passes out. I run to my cousin, dragging him away to the other side of the room until his shallow breathing strengthens.
“What the hell is going on here?” I ask Chiso. “Buildings are crumbling, people have turned feral, there’s trash burning in the streets.”
Chiso grimaces, then gropes her way across the floor, and piles herself into our father’s office chair. Her dingy wraps smell of garlic and licorice permeating through and through. “It’s not trash that’s burning,” Chiso mutters.
“What is it then?” I ask a moment before the truth turns my throat stone cold. Bodies. They’re burning bodies.
“There’s been a sickness plaguing us, nearly four months now, but the city was in bad shape well before that. It was our virtues that did us in. Our humility crippled us. People flocked freely to fill the void of menial laborers. Former CEOs worked the mailroom. Accomplished chefs washed dishes. If that wasn’t enough, charitable traders started selling our exports at a loss, and the council got so caught up by their unchecked consciences that they niggled over every single possible way some issue could offend someone, somewhere, sometime. Our city was slowly sinking. We needed you. We needed you all along, and we sent you away. Nobody wanted to admit how much of our worth depended on standing upon the backs of those lesser than us.”
Temper Page 29
