Beneath the Guarding Stars (Mortality Book 2)

by Frost, Everly

  I reached for Michael’s hand—the one pinned to his hip. He clenched three fingers and a thumb around my hand, his little finger rammed fast against his side.

  His face was pale, his teeth bared as his body shook, but his voice was gentle, compelling. “It’s okay, Ava. I’m okay. I won’t give it to them. No matter what this stuff does to me … I promise.”

  “I know you won’t.”

  We both knew that what Michael’s mom said about temptation was true. We didn’t know how many mortality weapons Michael’s dad had made back at the Terminal, but he’d told us they could only make a limited amount of the deadly serum before they needed more of my blood. Without me, their weapons wouldn’t last.

  But here in Starsgard, with the formula and me in the same place, it would mean the end of our freedom. It would mean the Terminal all over again—secret experiments and prisons that didn’t officially exist. At the end of it, Starsgard would hold the power to change the world.

  I couldn’t let that happen. Neither one of us could.

  I leaned into Michael, ignoring the needles around us, wanting to take the pain from him. Around him the moss had turned black and he roared again, eyes squeezing shut, leaking tears, his body twitching. My heart wrenched. I remembered him at the Terminal, welts and cuts all over his body. I remembered the electrocution device they’d implanted at the base of his neck, the one that still remained there. All because of me. I couldn’t let it happen all over again. I wouldn’t.

  “Give it to me instead.”

  Chapter Two

  MICHAEL’S EYES, bloodshot, watery half-slits, met mine. “But they’ll—”

  “I won’t let them hurt you anymore.”

  “No.” He shook his head, but I gestured to the patch of green around me.

  “Look, Michael. The moss isn’t hurting me. It has sensors in it—or receptors—or something, I don’t know. But if you give me the gun, I think it will let you go.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I shot him a hard expression, placing my free hand under his chin, forcing him to look at me as I squeezed his other hand. “Yes, but you know me. You know I won’t let this happen to you.”

  A smile glimmered behind his pain. “You’re the only one who wouldn’t.”

  He’d told me once that the world needed me because then they’d have to care. Each day would be precious. Death and life would mean something.

  He wriggled his fingers against mine, pushing my hand toward the back waist of his jeans, under his shirt. My hand closed over the gun and I slid it away from his skin. It was dark green, covered in yellow and brown swirls designed for camouflage. I marveled that it had survived our plunge into the river before we reached Starsgard, but it appeared hardy, designed to stand all kinds of punishment. I pulled it close to my chest with one hand and hesitated before I pressed my other palm against the mossy wall.

  The moss could change now that I had the weapon; it could turn on me, the same way it had turned on Michael, and there was no way I’d survive, but the black needles piercing his skin made my stomach turn and tears run down my cheeks.

  The gun contained a bullet made of me, and I wouldn’t give it back to Michael.

  The moss under my hand turned soft at my touch and I breathed another sigh of relief, but it still held Michael. I tried to relax as much as I could, trying to slow my breathing, my heartbeat, make my body show that we weren’t here to hurt anyone.

  “Let him go. Please … let him go.”

  For a second nothing happened. Then the thorns retracted, slowly at first, compressing at their bases, then more rapidly squishing in upon themselves. As the black needles condensed, they crumbled until wafts of black ash released around us, scattering in the wind like burned flower petals.

  Finally free, Michael slumped to the ground. I dropped in front of him, wrapping my arms around his torso and supporting him for the seconds it took for his wounds to heal. Suddenly he was the one hugging me—a crushing, determined hug that was full of relief and worry. I pulled away sooner than I wanted, filling the elevator door and keeping my back to his mother as I hugged the weapon close.

  Michael frowned. His thumb brushed my cheekbone, running the length of what must have been the gash from where the vine had lashed me. He didn’t say anything but the look in his eyes told me he was concerned.

  I couldn’t think about the cut right then. There was worse to worry about.

  I glanced at the greenery around me, hoping my hunch was right. I didn’t understand how but the plant was listening, or sensing, or maybe both. Michael’s mother had said it was designed to neutralize threats, so I was going to give it a threat to neutralize.

  I ran my fingers through the changing moss on the floor of the elevator, feeling it warm to touch. The temperature at the top of the tower was lower than comfortable and bumps had risen along my arms. Michael pulled me into another hug, rubbing my back and arms to keep me warm. I stayed there a moment, burying my head in the warmth of his neck, but I needed to act quickly. I didn’t know how I was keeping the moss at bay and I didn’t want to risk another attack.

  As I pushed away from Michael, he raised his eyebrows at me; one quizzical corner of his mouth turned up and all I wanted to do was press a kiss to his smile.

  I lowered my voice. “That woman out there—she’s your mom.”

  He gave me a short nod, his smile faltering. “Her name’s Helen.”

  “How long since you’ve seen her?”

  “About three years. She left with my brother when I was fourteen.”

  “Okay.” I searched his eyes. “Tell me now so that I know: should I be mad at her?”

  He pushed his palm briefly against my cheek, making my skin tingle with the rafts of energy from his body that I never could pin down. “Thanks, but I don’t know yet. She left to protect my brother. Even though she didn’t take me with her, it’s hard to hate her reasons for going.” He exhaled slowly. “Let me figure it out, okay?”

  I studied his face, understanding why his mom had left. Michael had told me that his brother was a slow healer, and because of that he’d become a target of the Bashers. They thought all slow healers were an abomination and should be eradicated. There were rumors in Evereach of underground cells where the Bashers buried slow healers alive, leaving them to fall into a coma and eventually die. They’d threatened Michael’s family so much that Michael’s mom had wanted to leave. When his dad refused to go she had disappeared one night, taking Michael’s brother with her. Still, it was hard to understand why she’d left Michael behind.

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  I pushed back against the elevator opening so that Michael’s mom could see what I was doing. As quickly as I could, I popped the barrel out of the gun. A single red, tear-shaped ampule dropped into my palm. The last remaining bullet.

  I spoke to the spot above her face, not trusting myself to let her see the anger in my eyes. No matter what Michael said, she’d let him hang there, pierced and bleeding, and she hadn’t tried to help him. “You need to watch this, so you can tell everyone what happened.”

  She was alert now, her former panic hidden and buried beneath a blank exterior.

  “The bullet,” I said, showing it in my palm. “And the gun.”

  As Michael’s mom craned her neck to see, I placed the teardrop ampule onto the mossy floor next to the gun. Beneath the objects, the moss turned from green to brown to black, an evil dark color that sizzled and foamed.

  The acid that would have tortured Michael was going to keep us safe instead. Froth bubbled up the side of the shriveling, shrinking ampule, eating away at the underside, then the body. Finally, even the gun was a melted splotch seeping across the mossy stone. It was done.

  Michael edged his way around it, grabbed my arm and helped me out with him. “Stay away from that,” he said, with a smile. “Great for guns, not so great for you.” His hand brushed my side, his arm going around my waist.

  His mom observed us
both, her arms folded across her chest, hugging close as though she was guarding herself.

  “The moss didn’t hurt you?”

  I held her gaze. “I’m not a threat.”

  “So you say,” said a voice from behind her, and a man stepped into view, dressed in similar clothing, hair bundled in thin plaits all the way past his waist. He scowled at me, dark eyebrows tugging down as though he was trying to draw out my thoughts. “How did you beat the moss?”

  I frowned at the newcomer. “I didn’t beat anything. It’s designed to stop threats—that’s what she said—and I’m not one.”

  “You were complicit in bringing that weapon into Starsgard. Yet you walked free and caused it to soften at your touch.”

  “I—”

  “Plants can’t be tricked. So what did you do?” He advanced on me, a strange thing exposed in his hand. It wound around his wrist, thin tendrils ending in his palm in the shape of a large purple leaf melded against his skin. “What biological counteragent are you carrying?”

  I choked. “Biological counter—” My blood pounded and now there was no calm inside me at all.

  We’d fought so hard, come so far, to make it across the border to what we thought would be safety and freedom. We’d walked all night, slipping and sliding as we gained ground step by step up the slope of the mountain. The cuts on my arms and legs weren’t just from the needles inside the elevator.

  “I don’t have food on me, let alone a weapon that could stop that thing you call ‘moss.’” I took a deep breath, trying to calm down, gasping against the angry restriction in my throat. “We were told we were accepted. And then you do this.” I gestured at the elevator where Michael had hung, pierced and broken. “You’re no better than the people we left behind.”

  The man’s face turned white and he advanced, palm up, with the purple leaf held toward me. Beside me, Michael was already pulling me back, the energy coursing through him as he prepared to run, zapping me all over my arms and back. I didn’t know where we’d go. The elevators had no visible controls and the glass dome encased the tower fully, but the man must have come from somewhere. There had to be another elevator or maybe a set of stairs.

  “Jonah!” It was a sharp, female voice.

  The man—Jonah—stopped and turned with a perplexed expression. He hesitated, shoulders tense as though he was about to launch himself, either at me or into an argument with her. I couldn’t tell which, but the woman’s face was gentle, patient, and unyielding.

  It was the woman whose image had been projected outside. She approached swathed in a violet cloak and high leather boots, her steps graceful and silent as she placed a hand on his arm. Her violet gloves matched the thing twined around Jonah’s lower arm. Her voice was gentle as she said, “We don’t go back on our word here.”

  She took us all in—Michael’s mom hugging herself as though she wanted to ward off something terrible; Michael, guarded and tense, ready to grab me and run; and me, shivering now from the cold and the emptiness that had replaced my hope.

  “You gave us a fright, Ava. Or rather, Michael did. We didn’t expect you to have the weapon on you. Only Ava touched the moss at the base of the mountain, so we weren’t forewarned. It was too late once you entered the elevator.”

  Jonah had transformed at her touch, turning from aggressive to grim, but not all of the tightness in his shoulders had disappeared. He continued to glower at me.

  “Please forgive Jonah. We’re all a bit unsettled. And…” She chewed her lip as though choosing her next words with care. “The moss has never abandoned its path before.”

  I shook my head. I wanted to tell her that I didn’t do anything, but she held up her hand. Her eyes flickered toward the far ceiling and I spun to follow her gaze to the top of the rocky wall behind us. At first, I couldn’t see what she was looking at, and then a small misshapen panel of rock caught my eye. It appeared gray and variegated like the rock around it, but it was smoother and more uniform around its edges.

  A camera?

  I spun back. The woman was close now. She folded her arm in mine and pulled me toward the opposite side of the tower, to the side that was glass from top to bottom. She spoke casually. “There’s a lot you can do with glass and mirrors and the connectivity of plant matter. For instance, we can see out but the world can’t see in.”

  The breeze buffeted me as I hesitated, wanting to stay away from the giddying drop, but she said, “It’s okay, Ava. Really. Come inside with us now. You must be freezing.”

  More bumps rose on my arms and I glanced at Michael as the woman led me toward the glass. Just as we reached it, a stairwell opened up in front of us.

  Behind me, Michael walked with his mom, and Jonah took up the rear. I tried to listen around the wind, but Michael and his mother were far enough behind that I couldn’t catch their words.

  The woman leaned in. “I’m Ruth.”

  I studied her. She was the woman who’d appeared on the air screen at Implosion and that alone was a curious thing. The footage they’d shown at Implosion was real footage of the day Seversand dropped a nuclear bomb on my old home city, Dell, in Evereach. In the footage, she’d shouted into the wind and flame and helped her daughter rise from the cracking earth, lifting the girl to her feet, wrapping her in her arms as flames and debris swirled around them. I wondered how she’d come to live in Starsgard.

  I said, “You’re from Evereach, like us.”

  Her eyes widened, as though I’d taken her by surprise. “Yes, originally but I moved here a long time ago. How did you know that?” Then her face cleared. “Of course. The Implosion ceremony.”

  I gave her a wry smile, my feet touching the top steps of the spiral staircase, testing how steep it was. “They showed you on the air screen.”

  “Yes, that’s right. I saw it.” She eyed me. “I also saw the Bashers attack the ceremony as your parents were about to kill you. As I recall, there was one particular Basher who saved your life.”

  My brother, Josh. The secret organization that Michael’s dad worked for had convinced him to infiltrate the Basher gang in exchange for empty promises. Josh had saved my life that night, only to lose his own. But if Ruth had seen my Implosion ceremony, that meant she was high in the Starsgard command. Only the most senior leaders in each country were allowed to watch the Implosion ceremonies.

  I stepped down into the darkness of the stairwell, the first to go in, but I didn’t care right then what waited for me in the dark. It couldn’t be any worse than the moss and thorns.

  Following me, Ruth said, “Evereach likes to play that footage to remind me where I came from.” She gave a laugh. “As though I will remember my old loyalties.”

  “Your daughter was with you.”

  She tugged at a loose wisp of hair, guiding her intricate plait across her shoulder. It was wound over itself, as though her hair, if released, would be long enough to reach the backs of her knees. I guessed that meant she was over three hundred years old.

  “We were there in Dell City when Seversand tried to attack Evereach. They thought a nuclear bomb would surely work, but there was no conquering Evereach that day or any other.”

  I remembered her shielding her daughter and shouting into the wind and hailing debris. Our children do not die . The Implosion ceremony was the yearly proof of each country’s invincibility. I wondered what would happen to Implosion now that I’d gotten in the way.

  With a sigh, she took my elbow, and glanced at the ceiling, to the strange, bright things running across it, as we continued down step after step. “I haven’t seen my daughter for a very long time. It’s a painful thing to lose touch with your child.”

  I wondered if she was trying to talk to me about Michael’s mom. I resisted the urge to look behind me, to try to hear what they were saying. Ruth’s expression was deep, pensive, as though she was contemplating more than my face, and I blinked, wondering if she was referring to my parents instead. They’d disappeared from my home in Dell City the da
y after I found out I was mortal. I didn’t know what had happened to them, whether Michael’s dad and the man who worked for him—Officer Cheyne—had forced them to leave, whether the Bashers had somehow gotten to them, or whether they’d chosen to leave. I tried to shake off the memory of Mom’s tear-stained face after Josh died and the moment she’d said goodbye to me.

  Ruth couldn’t possibly know any of that, so I focused on each step, surprised by how much light there was in the stairwell. I’d expected to see lamps burning along the walls, but bright ropes stretched all the way from one side of the floor, up over the ceiling and down the other side like strings of luminescent, violet pearls. It made me think of the purple light that shone for a half-mile radius around Starsgard to warn travelers to stay away.

  Eager to change the subject, I pointed. “What are those?”

  “Bioluminescent plants. They come in all different colors. Most people choose soft white for their home units, but purple is my favorite. I have the violet ones installed in common areas wherever I can.”

  I glanced back at Jonah and the strange purple leaf inside his palm. “I suppose you chose that, too.”

  She frowned, not following my meaning, until I said, “That thing Jonah has around his arm. It’s purple, too. A favorite of yours?”

  Her expression dropped, suddenly pale. “No, Ava. That’s a necessary evil, like the cameras.” She inclined her head toward the ceiling, where I made out similar misshapen glass panels masquerading as rock. “We’ve traded privacy for security, but it’s not a circumstance of our own making.” She exhaled with what seemed to be the weight of hundreds of years of memories. “We are what we have to be.”

  I am what I have to be . My brother, Josh, had said that to me moments before he died trying to save my life. For the second time that day, hot tears burned my cheeks. I stumbled on the stairs, avoiding Ruth’s hand as she reached out to steady me.

  How I wished I could go back to the moment before he died knowing what I did now. There were so many things I needed to ask him, to tell him. If I’d known about nectar and its healing properties, I could’ve saved him. Michael’s dad had manufactured nectar and put it in an ampule in Josh’s back—testing the life-saving substance on him—but the Bashers had taken his ampule to try to reverse-engineer their own version. Even if the black substance had the same effect on Josh that it had on me—turning me into a super freak with fiery strength like a nuclear explosion going off inside me—even if it had made him crazy—I would have injected it into him. I would have saved him.