Petrified City (Chronicles of the Wraith Book 1)

by S. C. Green

  The blonde girl picked up a large jacket from the coat hook in the hall. She picked up the stoned black-haired girl from behind the chair and placed the coat around her shoulders. She dragged the other girl through the door, and in a flicker of dirty hair and not a single glance back over their shoulders, they were gone.

  I dared a glance back over my shoulder at the man trapped in the metal frame. His eyes pleaded with me to free him.

  “Please,” he begged me. “‘Ave mercy. The wraith are cummin’.”

  I shook my head, my eyes filling with tears, and I jogged out the door to where the girls gathered in the overgrown garden and the cracked pavement. They threw themselves onto the ground, their legs wobbling as they threw their arms wide and basked in the joy of their freedom.

  Watching them, I expected the weight of my heart to lift. But instead, a darkness fell over me. Ice seeped into my veins, a cold realisation that I’d done nothing more than give these girls a few days, maybe a week, before the Dimitri clan rounded them up again, or the wraith took them. They had no food, no safe place to go. They didn’t even have any clothes. I hadn’t saved them. I’d merely prolonged their deaths.

  The blonde girl stood beside me. She placed a soft hand on my shoulder.

  “Don’t thank me,” I said to the girl, the words sticking in my throat. “I can’t take you anywhere.”

  She nodded, understanding. They were still prisoners under the dome, fish in a barrel for the wraith or the gangs to lure.

  “Thank you, though” she whispered, her voice soft and musical. “All the same, thank you.”

  “You said you’ve been planning this?” I grasped at the thinnest sliver of hope. “Do you have some place to go? Do you have someone waiting for you?”

  She shook her head, her grip on my shoulder tightening. “You’ve done all you can. I’ll take them from here. We got everyone out, which is the most important thing.”

  “You may not be saying that in a few days with this many mouths to feed,” I said. “I don’t know how much you know about what’s happening in the dome, but the streets aren’t a safe place to be right now.”

  “I know enough. I eavesdrop on the men when they talk about the wraith,” she said. “They’ve been saying the wraith are husking everyone and everything, and that there’s hardly anyone in the Hub who will buy our services anymore. Personally, I’ll take battling undead ghouls over rape and slavery any day. Don’t worry about me. I know how to look after myself.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.” I uncurled my fingers from the handgun I’d been clutching and pressed it into her hands. “This will help.”

  She shook her head. “You keep it. There are several hidden in the house. I’ll send my girls back in to find them. What’s your name?”

  “Sydney.” My name sounded hollow, meaningless. What use was a name in a dead city?

  She reached up and brushed my hair back from my face, the simple gesture tender, bringing me surprisingly close to tears.

  “I’m Harriet.” She grinned. “Nice to meet you, Sydney. I have a feeling it won’t be for the last time.”

  “I hope when we do meet again, we’re both on the same side.” I smiled, but the words rang too true in my heart to be a joke.

  Harriet did me the honour of a tug of her mouth.

  “Go home, Sydney,” she whispered. “Leave us whores to our trinkets.”

  She didn’t have to tell me twice.

  WHEN I ARRIVED HOME, Diana ran toward me and then came to a short halt. She choked a whimper, her wide gaze raking me up and down.

  It took me a few moments to realise why. I must’ve been covered with blood. I staggered inside, my legs feeling suddenly weak, and collapsed against the wall, sliding down so I was sitting on the floor below the window.

  “Sydney, what happened?”

  Images flashed across my mind, but I shoved them all away except one. Somewhere out there, Harriet was walking the streets with a gang of heavily armed whores, her eyes flashing in triumph. Laughter bubbled up within me as I wondered whether she would win out against the Mayor.

  Diana stood at the end of the short hall, her lip quivering, probably not sure if she should approach me. “I’ll get the bandages.”

  “Hey, pet … I’m sorry …” A hysterical giggle bubbled up out of my mouth. “Please ... don’t worry about it.” Gasping, I held a blood-streaked arm out to soothe her, but she shrank away. I flopped it back down again. “I’m okay … just a little … shaken up. None of this is mine, I swear.”

  “That’s an awful lot of blood, Syd.” She sniffed. “What did you do?”

  “I made sure that no one else would get hurt the way Sia was hurt.” I pulled my bloody shirt over my head and threw it in the corner, wishing I could rid myself of my memories with the same ease. “And that’s all you need to know about the business.”

  She took a step closer and squatted next to me. “I was so worried. I thought you’d left me.”

  I shook my head against the wall at my back, the laughter dying on my lips. “That’s not going to happen. I’ll never leave you, so don’t even bring it up again.”

  She cupped her palm around her chin and danced her fingers across her lower lip, considering. “Really?”

  “Of course.” I hauled myself to my feet with a tired smile, forcing the tremor in my body to calm itself. “Now, what meagre possession of ours have those cats of yours destroyed now?”

  I grabbed a filthy grey t shirt from under the bed – the only item of clothing the thieves hadn’t stolen – and pulled it over my head. As I watched Diana playing with the kittens, trying to stop my body from trembling, the events of the day replayed over and over inside my head. Was this what I’d become now, a vigilante doling out justice as I saw fit? I knew I had done a good thing here, so why did I feel so shitty?

  21

  Three days passed. We spent our time playing with the cats and trying to find imaginative ways to disguise the taste of our radishes. The phantom illness still plagued me—I threw up several more times, and the smell of food cooking made my body break out in a cold sweat. I tried to hide it from Diana as much as I could, but we were both worried. If I grew too weak to defend us ...

  When I felt strong enough to walk, I ransacked the four previously-occupied apartments in our complex and managed to find a bit more food, a game of Cluedo, and another small handgun with two clips of ammunition. Even after giving away two of my Reaper weapons, I had managed to acquire quite the arsenal.

  After the horrors of the Compound, being alone with Diana again was actually fun. We fell into our old habits; the easy conversation, the dancing around the living room to songs we heard only in our heads, and the reading and re-reading of favourite books. I would re-enact stories from old movies and TV shows until Diana knew the characters almost as well as I did. She particularly liked my version of the Tyrannosaurus Rex eating the man on the toilet during Jurassic Park.

  Our days were peaceful, marred only by a pervading sense of unease every time I heard a creak or a shuffle on the street below. But our nights were filled with terror. Outside in the streets, the wraith hissed as they moved through the Rim. Gunfire shook the building as the gangs attempted to retaliate against the ghouls. Screams arced through the broken window. I lay in bed holding a trembling Diana while a chorus of cats meowed from under the covers.

  Alain’s face burned in my mind. Was he alive? Was he thinking of me? Did he wish now that things had been different? Would he come to find me, to apologise? To carry me back to where he believed I was safer?

  No. I tried to push away the thoughts. I didn’t care. I could probably count the number of days I had left on Earth with one hand. I wouldn’t spend them pining for a man who didn’t trust me.

  Even if, when the ink black night surrounded me, I could feel the ghost of his powerful arms wrapped around my body, the press of his warm lips caressing mine—

  No.

  On the fourth day, there was a knock at t
he door. Diana crawled into the closet while I carefully crept forward with my pistol cocked at my side. But when I opened the door, there was no one there. On the welcome mat sat a second food package. This one was even smaller than the first—here was a two-gallon jug of water, some cornmeal, a small container of salt, six measly corn cobs, four tea bags, and some more radishes. There was a single message scrawled across the side of the box in red crayon. It looked like a child’s handwriting.

  The message read, THANK YOU.

  I imagined Harriet and her girls, cowering in a sewer tunnel or abandoned building somewhere, stealing what they could, working to put together this package for me. Tears pricked in the corners of my eyes.

  How remarkable that in the midst of all this pain, all this inhumanity, a single act of human kindness could still bring me to my knees?

  The memory of what we’d done in that brothel still haunted me, the faces of those men I had killed or watched die burned on the insides of my eyelids, becoming monsters in my dreams. I struggled to reconcile our actions against my own morality. I’d killed before, of course, but only in self-defense, only if it was my life or another’s. But I had gone to that house with revenge in my heart and an itchy trigger finger. There was no one left in the city to mourn those dead men, save possibly the Dimitri family. In my darkest moments I wondered if what I’d done was any better than what the wraith did? In their own twisted way, they were trying to survive. But I … I had taken the law into my own hands.

  But who else would be the law? It sure wasn’t the Reapers any longer.

  Wiping the tears from my eyes, I pulled the package inside.

  “Look at this,” I called to Diana, holding up the radishes in triumph. “Who said no good deed goes unpunished?”

  Diana crawled out from the bedroom, two kittens clinging to her shoulders for dear life. She wrinkled her nose when she saw what I held.

  “Not more radishes.” She poked out her tongue. The kitten in her hands followed suit.

  “Hey, beggers can’t be choosers. At least we have some salt now.” I showed her the rest of our bounty. “That should eliminate some of the radishy taste—”

  My words died in my throat as another knock sounded at the door. I froze. Diana glanced up at me, her eyes questioning. Was it the bearer of the package, wanting to thank me in person? Or was it one of Dorien’s lackeys, here to retaliate for the blow I’d dealt them? The knock sounded again. The rap-rap-rap clattered through my chest like horses’ hooves galloping along a dusty road.

  I gestured for Diana to get back in the closet. I checked her out of the corner of my eye as I continued to watch the door. She crept across the room, gathered up the kittens, and slipped inside without making a sound.

  The knock didn’t sound again. Slowly, carefully, I reached for the gun I’d placed down on the table. I strained my ears but could hear nothing, no footsteps in the hall, no rustle of fabric swaying as someone waited.

  I closed my hand around the gun and pulled it to me, aiming the barrel at the door. I opened my mouth to say something, but no sound came out. I steadied my grip on the gun, ready to throw it as soon as I sighted my enemy. I approached the door and held out my hand.

  Nothing. My palm pressed against the wood, and I scanned the hallway beyond. There was no one out there.

  A noise startled me. Tap-tap-tap. It came from behind me. I didn’t dare turn around. Diana was peeking out from a gap in the closet door. I gestured for her to try and see what it was.

  She craned her neck, trying to see behind me. Suddenly her face lit up, and she leapt to her feet.

  “No!” I whispered, holding out my free hand, trying to signal for her to get back in the closet. But she raced across the room, her entourage of kittens tumbling after her. She dashed past me and kept going.

  “It’s May!”

  May? I dared a look over my shoulder. A black raven stood on the windowsill, tapping its beak against the glass. As the head swivelled toward me, I recognised May’s cool gaze. What was she doing here?

  Diana pushed open the sash and thrust her arm out the window. The raven hopped on to her wrist. Diana pulled the bird inside and shut the latch again. The kittens clawed frantically at her calves, desperate to be introduced to their new friend.

  “You can change if you like,” Diana said to the bird. “No one will see you here except us.”

  I signalled Diana to be quiet and turned my attention back to the door, watching the raven out of the corner of my eye. There could still be someone there, and if they were listening to this whole exchange, they knew I wasn’t alone.

  Diana set the bird down on the back of the couch. The raven unfurled its wings, showing off its jet-black plumage, and extended its neck, making the tufty collar feathers flare out like a frill.

  Before our eyes, the bird transformed. The wings grew long, the bones within them cracking and contracting, folding in upon themselves as the feathers retracted within the skin. The head grew large and round, the features twisting from bird into beautiful woman, the feathers smoothing and becoming a head of deep black tresses.

  Within less than a minute, the raven was no longer. Crouched upon our couch in front of us was May, her hands folded in her lap and her black coat bunched up around her shoulders. The welts and burns on her skin from the Mimir had faded, giving her complexion a mottled appearance.

  “Surprise,” May breathed, shooting us both a sly grin. A large black satchel was slung over her shoulder. In her hand was a tiny black kitten struggling for freedom.

  “I don’t believe it. Blackie!” Diana held out her hands and caught the little furball as he darted from May’s grasp. He began to purr frantically as she held him to her chest.

  May slid down so she was standing and smoothed out her coat. Several black feathers fell to the floor, and the kittens all lunged for them.

  Diana set Blackie down with his new posse and pounced on May, wrapping two thin arms around her and knocking her onto the couch. They lay back against the cushions, giggling.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my gun still trained on the door.

  She looked up at me, her laughter dying on her lips. “You sound as though you’re accusing me of something.”

  “Not at all. I’m just tense. There have been some … incidents.” I gestured with the gun toward the door.

  “I know.” May offered me a smile. “I heard about the brothel you destroyed. Nice one.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You don’t have to keep that gun on the door. The knock you heard was me. No one answered. And I was worried when I saw blood smeared down the wall. So I decided to try another way.”

  “Don’t worry.” I dropped the gun and held up one arm, showing her the bloody smears across my sleeve. “The blood’s not ours.”

  May laughed, deep and throaty. “You’re so awesome.” She bumped fists with me.

  I smiled, enjoying the childish sign of respect. “Are you thirsty?”

  She nodded. Then she slid the satchel off her shoulder and dumped it on the coffee table. It landed with a loud thud.

  “What happened to Blackie?” Diana asked as the black kitten pranced across her lap.

  It patrolled the apartment to check all his things were still in order.

  “The poor little guy was stunned by Dorien’s blow. I thought he was dead, but when I picked him up he looked up at me with those big eyes. I’ve been looking after him.” She patted Blackie between the ears. he closed his eyes, his face scrunched up in perfect bliss.

  While May and Diana whispered to each other, and Blackie started a steeplechase with his new friends around the apartment, I boiled some water from our new two-gallon bucket and used one of the precious tea bags to make us each a cup. I handed May a hot cup of tea, and she sat up to drink it, casting her eyes around the derelict apartment.

  “Thanks,” she said, taking a sip. “I haven’t eaten or drank anything since yesterday when I left the Compound. You took some time to fin
d this place.”

  “Go ahead, you can say it,” I said as I sat down with my own mug. “This place is a shithole.”

  May gulped down her tea. “It’s ... very shabby chic. I saw that phrase in an old magazine. Apparently it was quite the rage once.”

  I quirked an eyebrow. “Is that French for shithole?”

  May gave me a weak smile. “I’ve missed you, Syd.”

  “Clearly. Otherwise you wouldn’t have flown deep into the Rim in order to find us. Does your father know you’re here?” Nervous butterflies fluttered through my chest as all my memories of Alain and the Compound came flooding back. Another, more terrifying thought occurred to me. “Does Dorien?”

  May shook her head. “I slipped past Dad when he was distracted. Dorien has been too busy with his new ally to notice much of anything.”

  “New ally?”

  “The Mayor. He and Dorien have joined forces. The Reapers and the wraith now have a single purpose.”

  “What?” The mug slipped through my fingers and clattered on the floor.

  May nodded, her mouth set in a firm line. “I think he’s been planning it for some time. Remember how he brought up destroying the dome at the meeting? I think that planted the idea in everyone’s heads. He has a lot of support, and now that the wraith are hanging around, anyone who opposes him gets husked. It’s sick. I tried to get Dad to leave, but he won’t leave Dorien. He thinks he can talk sense into him.”

  I knitted my fingers together to keep them from shaking. I hated thinking about Alain stuck inside the Compound with the threat of a husking hanging over his head. “It’s hard to reconcile this Dorien with the one who was so kind when we first came to the Compound. He got the medicine for Diana. He saved her life. I wouldn’t have believed what you said if I hadn’t seen his madness with my own eyes.”

  “Ever since you left, he’s been different. He doesn’t try to hide behind a facade of decency any longer. He has thrown open the Compound doors, and now the wraith walk the halls as though it were their own home. The Mayor and Dorien are working together to destroy the dome.”