by Trisha Leigh
Even though I intended sarcasm, the girl chuckles, and the sound rings familiar in my ears. I’ve heard it somewhere before—and recently—but my brain struggles to work properly after the beating I took. My fatigue almost tells me to forget it, that it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters besides the trunk. I need to save my energy for that, not sparring with an invisible, smart-mouthed girl.
“You’re funny.”
“Thanks,” I reply dryly. “I’ll try to keep you entertained, since you’re stuck with me. I doubt it will be for very long, though.” My eyes slip closed and my voice slurs, ruining my attempt at a comeback.
“That’s true. You don’t seem likely to hold out very long. Then again, your friend surprised me with his stamina. At first. Perhaps you will do the same.”
Curiosity wiggles past my pain, through my desire to be finished talking to this strange girl making light of my situation. “My friend?”
“The Asian guy? Deshi?”
“What’s Asian?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake. You know nothing, daughter of Fire.”
I don’t ask her what heaven means or how she knows who I am because I don’t want to annoy her with a million superfluous questions and have her ignore the important ones. Still, the word finds its place in my memory—heaven. It’s in Lucas’s note holder, in that little booklet of words.
“I’m talking about Deshi,” she relents, sounding exasperated with my denseness. “Come here and I’ll tell you about it, and try to help with that horrid whimpering wheeze thing you’re doing. It’s annoying.”
Crawling across the filthy floor toward her voice takes agonizing minutes, and when the girl’s face emerges from the shadows, it strikes me. I should have recognized her laugh, and if not that, her careless attitude. In my current deteriorated state, it isn’t until the female version of Griffin peers at me that it becomes clear.
“You’re Griffin’s sister.”
She purses her lips. “His twin. Greer.”
The girl introduces herself but doesn’t extend her hand or seem all that happy to have someone to talk to, for that matter. “What’s a twin?”
“You really don’t know anything, do you? It means we were born at the same time.”
The possibility of such a thing has never occurred to me, but the novelty wears off in an instant, replaced by the many problems crowding my life. There’s no time for idle questions.
“Please, tell me about Deshi.” It’s almost too much to hope for, that he’s alive and hasn’t been tortured or tricked into divulging our secrets.
All at once, I know why he hasn’t told the Others about what we can do. He doesn’t know anything.
The Others got to him and Pax before they had time to meet, to brainstorm, and Pax didn’t accidentally hurt the Sullivans until after he escaped from the Others. Deshi probably knows as much as I did before last autumn—that he smells different, that people don’t see him for what he is, and that he can control the element of earth—but not that we can unveil the humans. Or perhaps he never guessed veils exist in the first place.
It’s an odd realization, that a boy so like me remains so completely unaware. But the Prime must have run experiments on his brain, tried to map its abnormalities. Then again, the Others in Danbury tried mapping my mind to erase what happened to Mrs. Morgan, and it didn’t work. Those abilities don’t work on us, but even if they did, they can’t get information out of his head that was never there to begin with. He’s been held captive and hurt this entire time for nothing.
Greer’s cool, soft hands surprise me out of my thoughts. She sets them on the bare skin of my neck, and even though her touch brushes my skin softer than flower petals, it causes me to wince.
“Hold still.”
I wish turning to stone was an option, to stop both the pain and the immediate desire to flinch away from another being’s touch. It’s not, so I simply hold as still as possible, biting the inside of my cheek until I taste blood.
“Deshi has been here several months, but they can’t seem to find what they need in his mind, even though he’s cooperated. They gave up trying to force answers from him almost immediately.” Greer’s voice changes, pitching to a gentle tenor that matches the strokes of her fingers, which continue to smooth my skin as she talks. Underneath them, my bones shift and pull, causing pain before settling into a dull ache.
She’s healing me.
A gasp escapes my control as she sweeps across my ribs, which hurt the worst, and I try to think of something to say, anything to take my mind off the pain. I manage to grind out a question through gritted teeth. “So, he’s alive? And he’s okay? What are they going to do with him?”
“I don’t know. The only reason they haven’t killed him yet is because Zakej convinced his father that he might be useful bait for you and the boys, but once they have all of you, that will be the end of it.” She lifts her hands off of me and sighs, wiping a bit of perspiration from her brow. “There. I can’t fix your face. They’d notice. And if they come back for you tomorrow—and they will—you’d better act good and hurt still.”
No problem. Greer gives off the distinct impression she’d be happy to hurt me again for real if my acting doesn’t live up to her expectations. “Why are you being nice to me?”
She shoots an exasperated look my direction, looking very much like Griffin. “I told you, the silence soothes me. You were making an awful racket, trying to breathe through those broken ribs.”
Like Griffin, it feels as though she’s not being entirely truthful about her reasons. Her attitude reminds me of my anger toward her brother for encouraging Pax instead of talking him out of the crazy scheme, and I scoot a little ways away. “I’ll try to be less of a bother.”
“That seems unlikely, given that your presence here has already affected me negatively.”
“I just met you five minutes ago! How is that even possible?” Her flippant disregard for my pain should give rise to anger, but the plastic sleeves still trap the ability to let it loose, and honestly, I’m too tired to think about the energy it would take to get upset.
With everything that’s happening, another Sidhe slipping offhand insults into normal conversation doesn’t rate very high on my annoyance scale. Greer’s face might be a copy of her brother’s, but something kinder softens her cheeks and mouth, like maybe once she knew how to be happy, even if she isn’t now.
Despite her claim that my presence bothers her, she continues talking. “Aren’t you curious why Griffin suddenly decided to involve himself in your affairs?”
“Not really.” I’m lying and she likely knows it. “Although if he’d kept his nose out of our business, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. And Ko wouldn’t be…” I can’t bring myself to say the word dead, even though not saying it won’t change anything.
At the mention of his name, Greer recoils, purple eyes darkening to the color of grapes. “They killed him?”
Her voice cradles a strange mixture of sorrow and relief, a clash of sentiments, but an understandable one. It’s horrible that Ko is gone, but after all he’s been through, it’s hard to imagine he’s not better off.
“Yes.” I’m suddenly scared she’ll blame me, or think I’m horrible for sitting by and doing nothing. Why I should care what she thinks of me I haven’t any idea, but even though I’ve only just met her, I do kind of care. I let it happen. She should blame me.
“Oh.” Greer meets my eyes. “It’s not your fault. I can tell you think it is, but this is the way he would have wanted it.”
Silence rolls over our shared space, a welcome respite from talking about the thing I’d most like to not think about, and I pay quiet respects to the man—the Spritan—who saved my life more than once. When Greer speaks, her eyes are violet again and her voice holds more distaste than anything, as though speaking to me soils her tongue somehow. “What have you done with my brother, anyway?”
“I haven’t done anything with him. Your brother is a menace. W
hatever happens to him is well deserved, since he engineered this entire situation so he could sit in a tree and get a good laugh.” I spit the words at her, venom at Griffin warring with the last image of him in my mind, when he saved Wolf, freed Pax, and got them both to safety.
And left me behind.
It’s hard to know how to feel about the Sidhe boy. Which is how he likes it, I imagine.
“He didn’t do it for a laugh.” She pauses, seeming to reconsider. “Well, maybe he did, but not for the reasons you think. Griffin will return soon, and you can yell at him instead of me. We try not to leave for more than five or six hours at a time.”
It seems impossible that I’ve been here for less than six hours. A lifetime has passed since the Others dragged me through the front doors. The building must come equipped with some sort of device that slows time.
I slump against the cool, granite wall, letting exhaustion and misery swish through me. “Why do you come back at all? I mean, you can get out, so why not just escape?”
Greer doesn’t answer for a long time, so long my eyelids slip closed and the soft buzzing of sleep steals into my mind.
“We don’t leave because of me.”
Her soft answer startles me awake. “What?”
“Because I don’t want to leave, and Griffin won’t go without me. So we stay.”
“Why don’t you want to leave?” The idea strikes me as nonsensical. Who would want to stay with the Others when they could go? “How long have you been here?”
“Forever. Griffin and I were born here. Well, not in this particular Observatory Pod, though we’ve been held here since we were six.”
“You’ve been in this holding cell since you were six?”
She nods, as though nothing about that statement should bother me. Or her. Which is crazy. I think of all the things the Others have done to me since they learned of my existence a couple of months ago, the terrible acts they’ve committed just today. How could she and Griffin endure that since they were children?
Greer smiles knowingly, as though she reads my thoughts, but there’s no presence in my mind other than my own incredulity. “It’s not bad, really. Griffin and I were the Others’ first attempt at manipulating Sidhe genes into something usable when matched with their own makeup. It didn’t work, which I’m sure my brother expounded on at some length—it’s his favorite subject, after all—and they kind of forgot about us, I guess. The last time I saw one of them was our tenth birthday.”
“How old are you now?”
“Eighteen.”
“So why did he do it? Help Pax grab an Other?”
“He didn’t help Pax grab just any Other. He helped him grab Nat.” She closes her eyes for a moment, sucking in a deep breath as though she’s steadying herself on a thin wire. “Did you…did you hurt him?”
“Griffin? No. I mean, if I could catch him I wouldn’t hesitate, but—”
“Not Griffin. Nat.”
Her question stops my mouth from running further down the wrong path, but it doesn’t make sense right away. Then I remember when I grabbed the Other and heard the Prime’s plan to ambush us. He’d called the Warden Pax kidnapped Natej. Nat?
“You mean Griffin wanted Pax to take that Warden specifically? Natej? Why?”
It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around the idea that the Others have individual personalities. They’ve always seemed like identical copies of one another, each interchangeable with the next. The Others look alike, they act alike, they have no discernible interest in anything beyond their own agenda, whatever that might be. The sudden realization that they might actually be individuals stops my overwrought brain.
“Because he’s the reason we don’t leave…because I love him.”
CHAPTER 30.
“Excuse me?” I must have heard Greer wrong. She can’t seriously love an Other.
A sad smile paints her lovely features, and she toys with a chunk of her golden hair, pressing it against her upper lip like a silky mustache. “It’s stupid, right? I know.”
“And does he…does he love you, too?” Breath builds in my lungs waiting for her response. It’s important, the answer, though I’m not sure exactly why.
“He does, and he doesn’t. Nat loves me, but not enough to break his bond to his species.”
How does one break a bond with their species? If that’s what Greer wants, she’ll be waiting a long time, because it’s not possible. Natej lives in the Other tunnels, or hive, or whatever it is. Cadi told us last autumn that they control every Other child’s brain from the time they’re born, and from what I’ve witnessed, Others don’t question their loyalty.
Actually, until this moment, it never occurred to me that Others might have wants and desires that have nothing to do with the greater good of the whole. It’s interesting—it presents at least the possibility that they could be divided. Except if Nat loves Greer—beautiful, alluring, sassy Greer—and the prospect of Partnering with her isn’t enough to pull him free, then I’m not sure what would.
Then again, he did make that comment about not telling on Griffin for helping us. Did he do that because harming Griffin would sadden Greer?
She doesn’t seem particularly upset as it is; she’s more resigned than anything.
I heave a sigh, unsure of how to comfort her, or if she’d even want me to. “Boys make life harder.”
A pretty laugh spills from her lips, surprise lighting her violet gaze. “Tell me about your boy troubles, Althea. I’ve always wanted a girlfriend to talk with, and Kendaja was never quite right, even before they encouraged her cruel streak.”
I’m too tired to even shudder at the thought of the damaged girl as a child, and I’m sure I don’t want to know what kind of encouragement they gave her to make her into the horrid specimen she is today. It’s hard to imagine that insane murderer befriending Greer, even as children. Instead, my mind wanders to the autumn with Lucas. “Lucas was the first person I could ever talk to about how I’m different. He understood, because he’s different, too, and…” I trail off, unsure how to explain what happened between Lucas and I, or if I even want to.
“And then something happened, and you were more than friends. This is an old tale. And what about the boy Griffin helped?”
“Pax. He’s harder to like than Lucas, and he pushes me instead of trying to protect me, but I like that about him. It’s like we’re magnets, pulled together even though we try to fight it.”
She grins in the dim room. “Those are the ones that get you. The hard cases. The ones you’re not supposed to want but do anyway.”
“How do you know anything about men, Greer? You’ve been locked in a granite prison for over half of your life.”
“I like you, Althea. You’re funny.” She giggles again, reaching over to wipe a smudge of something off my chin. Probably blood. “My mother told us wonderful stories. Tales of true love and princes and dragons. And then there’s Nat.”
Her voice softens across his name, and no matter how it happened or the likely horrible end their affair has in store, she truly loves him. It shines in her eyes and under her skin. The bare truth of it makes me uncomfortable and sorry for her.
“Pax abandoned me. We were together, then Griffin got Pax loose, and the Others were running at us, and he just left.” Tears fill my eyes but I swallow them, letting anger push them away. “He left me to face all of this alone.”
“You can love people, and you can befriend them, but the only person you can ever one hundred percent depend on is yourself. It sounds like your Pax tried to teach you that by letting you stand on your own feet. And now you have to.” Greer takes a deep breath and lays her head back against the wall. “That’s the truth. But Ko and Cadi gave up everything for your four lives. They did it because they believed you guys might be able to save this planet. Might. But in order to even have that chance, you have to do it together. So chin up. He’ll be back. Unless you die.”
I could ask Greer how she knows that’s t
he truth, but she doesn’t open her eyes again or indicate any desire to continue the conversation.
Instead of asking any more questions, I copy her pose, letting my pounding head rest against the cool surface of the wall. Our breath fills the silence, and after a few minutes, she stretches her legs out in front of her. One foot falls against my boot, and even though it’s silly, I swear warmth passes through the contact. Despite the fact that her brother used Pax to try to exact revenge on Natej for keeping his sister locked in this depressing place, I like Greer. She’s forthright in a way her brother isn’t, and a kindness hovers behind her sharp-edged wit. I think maybe she and I could be friends, if this world were different.
The knowledge she’s passed on in this short amount of time is priceless, and her healing my snapped bones is a precious gift. They’ll most likely kill me in the morning, so tonight I’ll be thankful to have spent time with someone not intent on hurting me.
The last thing she said, about Pax coming back, sits in my palm like a promise I’m terrified to believe. Maybe not believing in it, giving up, is worse. Maybe it’s better.
I close my fingers around the tiny scrap of hope, holding on tight.
***
The Others undo all of Greer’s healing handiwork before noon the next day.
I actually have no idea of the time; black clouds have stolen hours or minutes, there’s no way to tell. My ribs are splintered shivs in my chest; a second crack has joined the first in my collarbone. When the last bricks lining my alcove toppled, they smashed into my pelvis. Zakej wailed on my jaw again, at which point I passed out for a while, since that pain had never fully subsided.
The moment arrives, the one I’ve been expecting and dreading since I met Kendaja in my mind. She steps closer to me until her gleeful, frenzied face fills my field of vision. Drool trickles around the finger in her mouth, and I can’t tear my eyes from her lips, wondering what it will feel like when the Prime orders her to press her mouth against mine, when she sucks the life from me.
