by Everly Frost
The ribbons dropped to his sides, his fists tight on each handle. “My master, Gabriel, made these blades. He was the only one who could dance with them, who could control them in the air. A few tried but they always ended up on the floor.”
He pointed a handle at me. “Until you. And so it makes me wonder. Does regeneration actually make us weak? Is it the absence of fear that makes us lose?”
The ribbons remained at his side, but I couldn’t take my eyes off them. The ribbons shivered. He started to twirl them, and for a second I imagined them whipping in my direction, cutting me.
Instinct screamed at me to get out of there. Run.
“Gabriel told me that only a true leader does what others can’t. I couldn’t figure out if that meant I should dance with the ribbons or not. I guess I’m about to find out.”
He strode away from the walls, three long steps that turned into a body spin, both ribbons flicking outward like blades as he began to dance.
Instinctively, I crouched down, the ribbons sailing through the air at eye height. Unlike the graceful ribbon dances I’d been taught, Seth treated the ribbons as what they were intended to be: weapons.
They cut the air as he danced with them, whipping to and fro at sharp angles, following his body around as he moved. He commanded them and it made me realize that, other than dancing with him that one time, I’d never seen him dance.
He was all power and muscle. Speed and strength. Every move he made was precise, the outcome of years of practice and discipline. For a few moments I wondered why he’d ever doubted he could dance with the ribbons.
He threw one ribbon into the air, leaping as he did so.
But the throw was too ambitious. He’d shifted his balance too far into his throwing hand, sending it higher than I had, but his other hand—with the other ribbon in it—counterbalanced too far in the wrong direction. The other ribbon caught on his outstretched leg, gripping into his ankle. The handle wrenched out of his hand and the ribbon continued its spiral, wrapping up his leg like a coiling snake, cutting into his skin all the way up to his thigh.
With a shout of alarm, he realized what had happened. His leg muscles contracted, jerking the ribbon closer to his body. While the other ribbon remained airborne, Seth tripped downward and rolled, a twisted ball of man, ribbon, and metal, coming to rest several feet away from me.
The ribbon attached to his body was coiled the length of his leg and had shredded his clothing.
He came to rest on his side, struggling onto his back, face upturned.
The first ribbon descended fast.
A blank expression covered his face as he waited for it to reach him. The weighted blade fell only a fraction slower than the heavier handle, headed for his chest and arms. At that velocity, it would be like a hatchet across his body. It would slice him in two.
The breath stopped in my own chest.
I couldn’t let it fall. I couldn’t watch him die.
Judging the distance, the speed of the handle, and the angle of the blade, I raced the gap between us, darting to avoid the blade, and leaped.
The ribbon blade stretched parallel to my outstretched arm. I reached for it, sailing over Seth, and my hand connected with wood. Landing on the other side, I kept up the momentum, running the ribbon across the room to keep it flying behind me.
Close to the edge of the room, I lifted into the air and pitched the ribbon into the corner, where it ripped the paint from the wall. There was a metallic shriek as it gashed a tear through the wood and screeched into a coil on the floor.
I caught my breath. My chest pounded.
Running back to Seth, I avoided his eyes as I reached for the handle resting against his stomach, half-clutched in one of his hands.
“Let go,” I said, “I’ll unwind it. I can help you.”
“No,” he said through clenched teeth. “You will not help me.”
I ignored him, giving his hand a gentle nudge, prying his fingers from the handle, but he snatched my wrist, his eyes burning me. “You. Will. Not.”
I paused. He wasn’t going to let me unwind the ribbon. His fingers tightened on my wrist. He reached for the handle with his free hand, and braced a moment, not letting me go even when I tried to pull away.
Heat and panic spread upward from my toes into my heart.
With a roar, he ripped the ribbon from his body. Cloth and skin shredded.
I shut my eyes too late and tried to swallow back the scream that tore from my throat. There was a crack as he whipped the ribbon into the floor on his other side, where it stayed, embedded.
The scream strangled in my throat. I gulped it down in the silence.
I counted the seconds as his dead hand clutched me, unyielding, trapping me against his side.
Then he was kneeling in front of me, face close up in mine. Despite the damage, he’d only died for thirty seconds.
He finally released my wrist and moved to my cheek, wiping it.
His voice was a snarl, his mouth close to my ear. “You feel fear and pain,” he said like a cold fact, assessing my expression, labeling the emotions I couldn’t control.
His eyes narrowed at me as though he was trying, with a strange kind of desperation, to absorb what I felt in that moment, as though he wanted, yearned, needed, to feel it.
Finally giving up, his shoulders slumped and he let go of me. He got to his feet.
He said, “I guess I got blood on the floor.”
Chapter Twelve
I ROCKED back on my heels, trying to breathe.
Seth paused, glancing back as though nothing had happened. “You’ll find the costumes in Tower Sixteen, level 120. Don’t worry about cleaning up. I’ll send someone to do it.”
I scrambled backward as he strode away. There was blood on my arms and legs and on my face. I needed to shower. I needed to go home, and for a moment my home in Evereach flashed through my mind. My bedroom, my clothes, my parents, my brother.
My brother.
I needed his message. I needed to hear his voice, see his face, read his words. Whatever form the message came in, I needed it.
I needed to know why he’d saved me.
But I didn’t know where Arachne worked, let alone how to contact her. I forced my emotions to numb again. I had to make sure Michael was okay before she discovered that I needed it as much as she did.
I crossed the room to the bathrooms on the other side, washing my face and taking off my t-shirt. The crop top I had on underneath would have to do. There wasn’t much I could do about the state of my leggings, but at least they were black. Black like my Implosion dress the night Josh died. I smothered a sob and gulped some water. When I finally made it to the costumes, Luke was pacing out front. His eyes widened when he saw me, and I guessed I hadn’t washed off all the blood. “What happened?”
Seth went psycho on me.
“I’m okay.” I drew a deep breath, focused on the concern in his eyes, the way he wanted to help, and the fact that he was my friend. I wasn’t okay, but I hoped I would be.
I waited at Ruth’s that night, having showered and changed my clothes and eaten, sitting at the table until my knees thumped underneath it, waiting to hear about Michael.
When the knock finally sounded at the door, I raced to answer it.
I stared at Arachne.
She scowled. “You coming or not?”
“Did it work? The operation?”
“It worked. He’s still sedated but you can see him.” She was already headed across the hall to the elevator doors.
Relief washed over me as I ran back inside, snatched my bag, and chased after her, although I wondered how it was possible to keep Michael sedated.
Inside the elevator, Arachne was cold and silent. Then she rounded on me. “How can you forgive Michael for what he did to Josh?”
I thought through all the possible responses: He didn’t know Josh would die. I didn’t know Josh would die. He hates himself for it. He wanted to die instead.
&n
bsp; He saved me.
I saved him.
She wouldn’t buy any of it.
“The same way I’d forgive you, if you’d done it.”
Her anger dissolved into brimming tears. She turned away, staring at the other wall.
“It could’ve been anyone, Arachne. Nobody knew, except the people who did. And if you want to blame someone, blame the Bashers for taking his ampule and leaving him vulnerable. They killed him as soon as they did that.”
The elevator didn’t stop at the atrium, it kept descending, and I wasn’t surprised to find there were hidden sublevels. When the doors opened we were in a small room, only about seven feet square, with another set of elevator doors on the right wall. As we approached, a strong gust of wind almost took me off my feet, knocking me backward.
It stopped, and I regained my balance. I glared at Arachne. “You could’ve warned me.”
She ignored me as we entered the next elevator. It seemed to descend for forever, and again we exited into a small room. This time there were elevator doors on the left and right. I braced for the wind but nothing happened.
Halfway across the room, a bright blue wall of light appeared, covering me from head to toe, flashing back and forth. I froze, waiting for the next thing. I would’ve sworn that this time the lights were electrical like in Evereach. I glanced up, and sure enough, there were cameras in the four corners of the ceiling.
“Are we underground?”
“Almost.”
Two more times we entered an elevator, descended, and came out into another room where there was more security and more elevator doors to choose from like a small puzzle. I wondered what was behind the doors we didn’t enter. I took note of which ones Arachne chose in case I had to find my own way out. I wouldn’t put it past her to leave me to fend for myself once she’d taken me to Michael.
Finally, we exited into a small atrium, with three corridors stretching out from it in different directions.
Ruth was waiting for me, a long purple coat floating behind her. “Ava.” She took my hands. “We got the bug out. He’s fine, but we’re keeping him in a sleeping state to make sure there’s no shock to his system. Come this way.”
I followed her down the middle corridor, keeping close, and as we walked all the tension of the past few days bled off me.
Michael was okay.
Down the corridor, to the right, down another corridor, to the left, and then we were in a hall with rooms branching off on either side. As soon as I saw him lying on the bed, Arachne and Ruth blurred into the background. I raced past them into the room, glad it was nothing like the cold, medical rooms at the Terminal. The walls were pale blue, the décor navy and gold like some kind of plush hotel room.
I dropped into the chair at his side, taking his hand.
He looked so peaceful. His eyes were closed and the worried crease in his forehead was gone. How long had that crease been there?
My fingers brushed the inside of his wrist and I turned his hand over to see a small patch there. It was lilac, small, and round like a coin. Without letting go of him—I didn’t want to ever let him go again—I turned to Ruth. “What’s this?”
Her tone was even as she pulled up the other chair beside me. “It’s keeping him under.”
“How is that possible?”
“Our cells are held together by a strong force, no?”
“You mean … they hold together like magnets.”
“Something like that. And in Michael’s case you can imagine the strongest magnet possible.” She formed two fists and held them slightly apart at chest level. “None of his cells can be parted, and at the same time, there’s energy all around them. The slumber plant slows the energy down to force a sleep state.”
She nodded toward the patch, not touching him, as though she knew I didn’t want her to. “It was a little tricky in Michael’s case, I’ll grant you that, but we got there in the end.” Her face hardened. “What Treble did—implanting the bug while he was awake—was barbaric.” She breathed out, exhaling anger as though letting go of it. I wished I could let go of mine so easily.
“We’ll keep him asleep until tomorrow.”
“Can I be here when he wakes?”
“Of course.” She turned. “Arachne, would you please take Ava home now?”
I wasn’t ready to go. His hand was so relaxed in mine. There was no worry, no regret, no guilt, no fear.
This. This is what I needed. To be with him without all those things hanging over us. I bent and kissed Michael’s forehead, somehow feeling that I didn’t have the right to kiss his lips while he slept, but I would as soon as he was awake again.
Arachne nodded to the door, walking ahead of me without waiting. I glanced back once before following her out.
We headed down the corridor, but as we rounded the corner Arachne grabbed my arm and pulled me against the wall.
“There’s a black spot right here,” she said, as though I should be impressed. “It took me months to find it. Here.” She shoved a small object at me—another ladybug, but this one felt cold and metallic. “Keep that against your skin and it will fool the surveillance into thinking you’re not here.”
I studied the small metal object, wary of putting it anywhere near me. “How does it work?”
She huffed at me. “Seriously? We’re on a time limit and you want explanations?”
The bug in Michael’s back had made me suspicious of anything like it, although this one was definitely not organic. “Bugs landed Michael in that room. I’m not putting this thing on until I know how it works.”
She waved her hands at me like a magician. “It returns negative input, all right? Nothing to see here. The cameras won’t record your image or the sounds you make as you move. That doesn’t mean the staff down here won’t see us. C’mon. Your boyfriend’s safe. Now it’s Josh’s turn.” She clipped her bug inside the neckline of her shirt and I did the same. As soon as I pinned it to my body, it gave a soft hum and turned around on itself with a scan across my body. Arachne’s did the same, and for a second an outline appeared around her, as though the bug had ascertained her shape and size.
“Where are we going?”
“We can’t go direct because the staff will see us, but we need to get to a computer terminal, one that’s out of the way so we won’t be disturbed. There’s one this way. But it means going through the fuel sector.” She glanced at me, as though that should make me worried, but I figured ignorance was bliss at that point.
I let her lead me down the corridor and onward. A couple of times she pulled me aside to avoid someone—all of them dressed in dark gray like the people in the foyer the night I met the other Councilors—and it was at least ten minutes before we reached a wide hallway with glass walls on either side like floor to ceiling display cases. They were filled with water and inside them was dense greenery, some of it wafting against the glass like seaweed.
I peered closer and frowned. Some parts of it didn’t move like seaweed.
I couldn’t make out what they were but there were things stirring in the water, swimming among the leaves. I stepped closer to see better.
Then the smell hit me.
All of a sudden I was back in the Terminal, looking through another glass wall, Officer Cheyne looming at my back and the scent of oil rafting through my senses, thinking I was about to burst into flame because the scent was so flammable.
My hand shot to my nose. “What is that?”
Arachne waved at the walls of green. “Fuel marsh. This one’s underground, so it gets really rank. The ones on the surface breathe a bit better, but not much.”
I wanted to run through the hall to get to the other side as quickly as possible, but I needed answers. Jason had smelled the same on the day we’d arrived, and he’d been on roster at the fuel marsh. Michael had recognized the scent too. I needed to know why Cheyne had smelled exactly like this.
I snagged Arachne’s arm. “What’s the fuel marsh really for?”
>
She waved off my question. “Fuel, of course. Starsgard is self-reliant. It doesn’t mine oil like Evereach or rely on the sun like Seversand. Granted, Seversand’s solar energy is close to self-sufficient now I suppose. Took them a long time to get to that point, but whatever … the fuel marsh is completely renewable. All it needs is a little water and the marsh plants grow. Believe it or not, it only takes a handful of this stuff to power each region every day.”
“That’s great, but it stinks.”
“Sure does. There’s no getting the stink of the fuel marsh off you. Which means we have to be extra careful or Ruth will know exactly where you’ve been. Stay in the middle of the walkway. Even walking near the stuff is enough.”
“There was someone in Evereach who smelled like this. He was the one who implanted the bug in Michael.”
She sighed. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”
When I shook my head, she stopped right in the middle of the hall, where the scent invaded my every pore. “All right. What the average Starsgardian doesn’t realize is that the marsh isn’t just bundled up into wads and burned as an energy source. The marsh is the thing on which they grow all their weapons—a living food for living organisms. If your man in Evereach smelled like this, then he probably had his own little tank stashed somewhere, with any number of happy bugs growing in it. Including the one he implanted in Michael.”
“But he’d have to get it from here to begin with, wouldn’t he?”
She shot me a warning glance. “Probably.”
“So, did he steal it? Or was it given to him?”
Arachne whirled and grabbed my arm. “What is it about you mortals? Do you always have to ask dangerous questions?”
I ground my teeth. Naomi had said that the bug was stolen technology, but nobody had ever explained how, with all of Starsgard’s security measures, somebody could sneak into Starsgard and steal a wad of fuel marsh and a biological weapon—and get out with them in one piece.
