Displaced (The Birthright Series Book 1)

by Bridget E. Baker

  “So you’re like super old?”

  I laugh. “No. I’m actually seventeen, just like you.”

  “Are you being serious right now? You’re some kind of superhuman and you call yourself evian? Like the water?”

  Mom and her weird sense of humor. “Yes, like the water.”

  “For real?”

  “My mother has a warped idea of what’s funny.” I roll my eyes. “She started that company as a joke, but it’s kind of taken off, and now we’re stuck with it. Edam thinks it’s hilarious and refuses to drink anything but Evian.”

  “Wait, who’s Edam?” he asks.

  “Right, sorry. Coach Renfro’s real name is Edam.”

  “Oh! So that guy is one of you? He is like Eve’s great-great-grandson. No wonder he looks so old.” Noah smirks.

  “Noah, this isn’t a joke.”

  “It has to be a joke,” he says. “Because otherwise I’d have heard something about it. People would know about this.”

  I shake my head. “People knew, thousands of years ago, but it caused problems. First, humans tried to worship us. That may sound awesome, but it’s not. It gets really old. Then people grew envious and attacked us.”

  “You heal fast though, right?” His eyes sparkle. He doesn’t believe me.

  “Yes. We do.” I grit my teeth. “Look, I’m not supposed to be telling you. We have very strict laws about this.”

  “You could like dominate the entire world, but you don’t? You hide in the shadows, because you’re so benevolent?”

  Boy does he have this wrong. “No, nothing like that.” I wonder whether this was a mistake. I could stop now and no one would ever believe a word. Heck, he doesn’t even believe me. But he’s so earnest in his mocking, and he has been so supportive up until now. I plunge ahead. “So here’s the deal. My mom was sort of a pioneer, okay? We’ve been ruling the entire world for millennia, but once we realized how problematic it is to be different, we grew weary of dealing with human tantrums and attacks and whatnot. We developed our own societies outside of humanity, but we—”

  I stop. We use them. We use the humans around us, because we don’t care about them. They have no value to us. How can I say that to him, even though it’s true? It sounds so wrong.

  Which probably means it is wrong.

  “Look, my mom decided that humans would be more helpful, would produce more cheerfully if we provided them with freedom.”

  Noah lifts one eyebrow. “Your mother’s an altruist?”

  Not exactly. I cringe, inwardly. “Maybe this will help. Look, hundreds of years ago Mom had a menagerie.”

  “You mean, like a zoo?”

  “A private zoo. She loved it, but her animals got depressed, right? They moped around, did nothing, and then some of them ate nothing. It got bad enough that they died. Cheetahs first, and then others, too. She brought in specialists to figure out what was wrong. She loved the predators most of all.”

  “And?”

  “And she discovered that while they loved having food provided for them, and they even loved my mother, they hated feeling enclosed. So she created a new park for them with habitats ten times the size of the old ones.”

  “What happened?” Noah asks.

  “The animals flourished. They bred in captivity, they played, pounced and thrived.”

  “Because they needed freedom.”

  I shake my head. “Not quite. They needed the appearance of freedom.”

  Noah frowns. He should frown. Saying this out loud depresses me.

  “Mom realized her humans were suffering in a similar way. They would chafe at the laws, the rules, the demands. They would even refuse to eat, figuratively. She ignored everything her mother taught her, everything her rivals did. She fashioned a new model. She decided to give them a pen that was ten times bigger. She engineered a fake rebellion that made a bunch of the humans think they were in charge. They believed they were free from England.”

  “America?”

  I nod. “And it worked. They thrived on the appearance of freedom.”

  Noah tosses his hands in the air. “America is free. I’ve seen the elections. People travel wherever they want. They own their own homes and property.”

  I drop my voice to a whisper. “They love their really large and spacious pens.”

  “Huh?”

  “Passports, taxes, bureaucracy. How much do you think humans in America pay in taxes?”

  Noah shrugs.

  “They pay local taxes, state taxes, federal taxes, social taxes, sales taxes.”

  “You’re saying all of that flows through to you?”

  “Of course it does. And some of the humans know it, and some of the others know something is wrong on a subliminal level. Have you heard of pork barrel spending? Humans decry the horrible waste of government. They gripe and do exposés on how terrible it is that so much money just disappears.”

  “You guys are pork barrel spending?”

  “Of course we are. And on top of that, the highest level humans all know who we are, and they do what we say.”

  Noah shakes his head again. “What about the elections?”

  “Bigger pen,” I say. “They’re obviously rigged. Do you really think Americans voted for that guy everyone hated so vocally? Come on.” I shrug. “But humans believe their pen isn’t there, so they ignore the fencing when they see it.”

  His mouth drops.

  “Look, some Presidents have even come close to blabbing. They’ve walked a fine line.”

  “Like who?” Noah’s eyes light up.

  “One time, President George W. Bush was on some talk show and someone else had just taken over. People were freaking out, and they asked him, ‘aren’t you worried about this!?’ His response ticked my mom off, but I thought it was clever. And people didn’t credit George W. with a lot of smarts, but that was mostly an act. A very good act, but an act.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He pointed to the desk in the Oval Office and he said, ‘Don’t worry. Whoever occupies that seat behind that desk, will quickly find out that their hands are tied and they’ll end up doing almost exactly as I have done.’”

  “He didn’t say that. You couldn’t possibly recall exactly what he said.”

  I shrug. “Look it up. I’m evian.” I tap my forehead. “Perfect recall.”

  “Did he really?”

  “Look, the humans all assumed he meant that the checks and balances kept them safe from sweeping change in the executive branch.”

  “But that’s not what he meant?”

  I tsk. “We control all three branches. We can do or change whatever we want. But. . .”

  “Bigger pen,” Noah says, his eyes shuttered.

  “You’re catching on.”

  “And it worked.”

  “Mom’s holdings and power have only grown, because happy humans work harder, produce more, and well, they thrive.”

  Noah whistles.

  “Except I wasn’t kidding when I said my mom died.” My throat closes off. “On her nine-hundreth birthday.”

  “Oh man,” he says. “I am really sorry. I was hoping that was part of your cover.”

  “She was poisoned,” I say. “She would’ve lived a few more decades at least if she hadn’t been.”

  He stops in the middle of the path and a biker almost hits him. He glances my direction and then back at the road.

  He wants to believe me, but when he’s not focused on understanding, his mind rejects it.

  “I get it,” I say.

  “You get what?” He scowls.

  “I get how this feels.”

  “Pardon my rudeness here, but how could you possibly have any idea how I’m feeling right now?”

  I lean on the hand rail overlooking the water. “When I was five, I finally wondered where beef came from.”

  “Huh?”

  “I loved tacos, you see. I ate a lot of them. Breakfast, lunch, or dinner, I insisted on tacos. Beef and sour c
ream, and nothing else.”

  “Okay.”

  “In Hawaii, a lot of what we eat grows locally. Bananas, pineapples, avocados, papaya, I’d seen it all. I’d even seen cocoa beans.”

  “Sure, that makes sense.”

  “I knew wheat was ground into flour and formed into tortillas. But I’d never seen a beef plant, so I asked Mom where it came from? What kind of plant produced beef?”

  The side of Noah’s mouth turns up. “That’s cute.”

  “I didn’t find it cute then. When Mom told me I was eating a dead animal, my entire world turned upside down. At first I didn’t believe her. That was nonsense. How could we kill animals and eat them? Why would we do that? Who even thought of that as an idea the first time?”

  “Well, cheetahs, lions, wolves.”

  “Sure, but I hadn’t thought it all through,” I say. “I was shocked, and disgusted, and in denial.”

  “And then your mom explained about veal?”

  I swat his arm. “Hilarious, and no. I didn’t learn about that until last year, and I convinced Mom never to serve it again. Horrifying.”

  “Look, this is a lot to take in, more than the concept of eating dead things.”

  “It is,” I say. “It’s a shift in your entire worldview, and your place in the world. Believe me, I get it.”

  “Wait, my place?”

  “I misspoke,” I say. “What I meant was, it’s a lot to take in.”

  “So far, I only have your word to go on,” he says.

  “You saw me get shot earlier. You said you did.”

  “I saw blood,” Noah says slowly. “And I thought I saw you get shot, that’s true.”

  I shrug my jacket down and show him the bullet hole in the shoulder of my shirt. “You did see me get shot.” I put my finger through the hole. “But our better DNA makes us... well... better. It healed immediately.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Wait, do you mean?” He licks his lips. “Like it healed. . . in minutes?”

  “Seconds.”

  He shakes his head. “No way. That can’t possibly be true.”

  “I know it sounds insane, but think it through. My body doesn’t do things yours can’t do. It just does them faster.”

  His mouth opens but no words come out.

  “Well, it can do a few things yours can’t. I hear humans can’t regrow fingers, for instance, but you’ve seen lizards regrow their tails. It’s the same concept.”

  “No.” He shakes his head. “Now you sound completely nuts.”

  “You saw me get shot more than once.” I point at the hole in my sopping wet jeans. “The blood washed off in the river, but I took a bullet in my leg, too.” I raise the side of my shirt and show him the hole there. “And here. The injuries healed before I started swimming for safety.”

  Noah switches back to English, maybe without realizing it. “When I saw you pull off your necklace and turn it into little bombs you could use to protect us, I thought, this chick is bad-A. She’s kind of crazy, but I like it. I was wrong though. This isn’t awesome, it’s unbelievable. And your evidence to support this story is a few holes.” He backs away from me as quickly as he can. “I’m sorry, but it’s not enough.”

  “Noah, stop,” I say. “You have to listen to me. I know it’s a lot to process.”

  “No,” he says, “you must’ve given me something. Acid? LSD? What was it? This is all some kind of whacked out trip.”

  We aren’t the only people standing on the Queensboro Bridge, and we’re starting to attract more attention than the guy taking a leak on the corner. I look around frantically for anything I can use to prove my point, but I don’t see anything. No knives, no rebar, and no glass shards. Where’s an empty beer bottle when you need one?

  I’m going to have to break a bone, which is unnecessarily grotesque, but he’s turning around to leave. It’s now or never. I scan the bridge quickly to make sure no one is filming us. Thankfully it’s clear.

  “Noah,” I say, “wait. I can prove it.”

  He pauses and raises a skeptical eyebrow. “How?”

  Go big or go home, I think. “Watch.”

  I brace my left arm with my right and slam it down on the railing hard enough that it snaps my radius and ulna both in two. Tears spring unbidden to my eyes and I whimper.

  Noah’s mouth drops open and he starts sputtering. I’m worried he may be having a seizure, so I try to calm him down by grabbing his arm reassuringly with my good hand. He looks at me like people on zombie shows look at a shuffling assailant from the undead horde.

  I let go, and Noah twists and darts around me. I can’t really stop him, thanks to my shattered arm.

  “Two seconds,” I beg. “Just watch this for two seconds.” I use my good arm to reduce the breaks, my least favorite part, after which my arm heals swiftly.

  Noah stares slack-jawed. It’s not his best look. “Wait, what just happened?” His voice is high and squeaky and his perspiration spikes.

  “I know, it happens so fast it’s hard to believe right? But it still hurts, so please don’t make me do it again. This is real, Noah. I’m not lying.”

  He reaches toward my arm, but pauses before actually touching it. He looks up at my face slowly. “This is a lot to take in.”

  “I understand.”

  Noah’s face is pale, and between the river leap and the cold, I worry he might be going into shock. “Can you hear me Noah?”

  He scowls. “I may not be super human, but I hear people fine when they yell.”

  I’m not yelling, but I don’t bother defending myself. “Do you have any questions?”

  “You really are leaving tomorrow?” he asks. “Nothing I can do to stop you, since you’re like super girl.”

  “I told you my mom died,” I say, “but I didn’t mention that I’m heir to her throne and I have a twin sister who wants to fight me to the death to take it away.”

  Noah blinks and blinks. “Wait. What?” He runs his hand through his hair. “Does that mean Coach Renfro isn’t really your older sister’s friend?”

  I roll my eyes. I clue Noah in on the truths of the universe, and he’s worried about Edam.

  “Uh, no,” I say. “Actually, he’s sort of my guard, except.” I swallow. “We’re getting married in two days.”

  “Excuse me? The old guy? You’re marrying him?”

  I sigh. “We’ll be alive for close to a thousand years.”

  “Is this, like, an arranged marriage? Because he’s a real drag. Plus, you didn’t seem to mind kissing me. If I were engaged, I definitely wouldn’t want my fiancé kissing someone like we kissed earlier.” He lifts one eyebrow smugly.

  “It’s not arranged, no.” I bite my lip.

  “He proposed and you accepted, at seventeen years old? And what were you doing at Trinity, anyway?”

  “I turn eighteen in a week, okay? And I’m at Trinity for—well it’s a long story. But Edam did ask me, and I agreed. Things are complicated.”

  “More complicated than ‘I’m a genetic super human who rules the world, even though no one has heard of us or seen us?’”

  I grin, because this is the Noah I know. “Remember the twin sister who I said wanted to kill me?”

  He nods.

  “Well, she’s a much better fighter than I am. Our people settle disputes between rulers through mortal combat. We’ve done it like that for six thousand years. Mom had named my twin as her successor, but after Mom died, the paperwork had been changed. To name me instead. My sister didn’t take it well and immediately challenged me. She wants to be empress, and if I lose, I die. If I’m married, I have the option to have my, er, husband fight for me.”

  “Which makes Coach Renfro your meat shield.”

  My eyes roll heavenward. Ridiculous.

  “I’m a pretty good fighter,” Noah says. “My family starts training us young. I can even use a sword, believe it or not. I’d be willing to fight her for you, even if you don’t marry me. I may not be super human, b
ut I bet I could beat a girl your size.”

  “Yes.” I laugh. “You seemed pretty impressive back there, lying flat on the ground while I shot the bad guys with ballistic beads and a necklace slingshot.”

  “You kicked me down!”

  “Regardless, your chivalry is misguided. I can’t have someone fight for me unless I marry them first.”

  We turn the corner and begin across the bridge that crosses the East river toward FDR. Noah looks down at the water. “You’re headed back to your sister’s house now, but then what? You fly back to Hawaii, or wherever you’re really from?”

  “I don’t have a choice, Noah.”

  “There’s always a choice.”

  “Maybe in your world.”

  “Let me rephrase, then,” he says. “Rethink your choice. Don’t marry the old guy. Don’t kill your sister. I’m kind of sick of America anyway. We can go back to Beijing like you suggested. My dad would be fine with it, I swear. But maybe you should tell me your name first.” He winks.

  “I told you earlier. It’s Chancery Alamecha.”

  “Right. Chancery,” he says slowly, like he’s trying my name on for size. “I like it. It fits you way better than Rebecca.”

  “Five minutes ago, you were practically running away from me screaming. Now I’m supposed to fly to Beijing with you?”

  “I had to process everything,” he says. “The hero gets a minute in stories to find his path. I can save you, and you don’t even have to marry me. Not until you’re begging to, anyway.”

  I roll my eyes. “So the hero in this story is a kid who has to get permission from Dad first? I’m quite reassured.”

  “But you agree I’m the hero,” he says. “And you can’t leave the hero behind. If you won’t go with me to China, take me with you to, wait, where are you going?”

  “Hawaii,” I say. “That was true, too. But I can’t take you, Noah. It’s too dangerous. You could’ve been killed back there.”

  “Or,” Edam says, “he could be killed right here. I’m not picky.”

  Aww, crap. I’ve finally been saved, which isn’t fantastic news for Noah.

  28

  Edam punches Noah in the face and I watch, transfixed, as Noah sprawls out on the pavement for the second time today.