“You see?” Clemensia asked no one in particular. “You see what I’m dealing with? My tribute’s mentally unbalanced.”
“I guess you’re right,” said Festus. “Sorry about earlier.”
And that was it. Wovey’s death caused no suspicion outside the arena, and inside it only Reaper questioned the cause. Lucy Gray was not prone to carelessness. Perhaps she’d even chosen frail Wovey as a target because the child’s already-grave condition would mask the poisoning. He felt frustrated by his inability to communicate with her and update their strategy together. With so few left, was hiding still the best approach, or would it be better for her to act more aggressively? Of course, he didn’t know. She could be planting poisoned food and water at this very moment. In which case, she’d need more, which he couldn’t provide if she didn’t make an appearance. Although he didn’t believe in it, he tried to channel her telepathically. Let me help, Lucy Gray. Or at least let me see that you’re all right, he thought. Then added, I miss you.
Reaper had returned to the tunnels by the time District 4 scavenged Wovey’s food. Their absolute lack of concern with its origin reassured Coriolanus that the possibility of poisoning had flown under the radar. They sat right down where Wovey died and gobbled up every bite, then they strolled back to their tunnel. Mizzen walked with a limp, but he would still outmatch most of the remaining tributes if it came to a fight. Coriolanus wondered if, in the end, it would all come down to Coral and Mizzen deciding which District 4 tribute took home the crown.
In all his years, Coriolanus had never left a school lunch un-finished, but the cardboard bowls of lima beans on noodles turned his stomach. Still full from the Plinths’ breakfast, he just couldn’t bring himself to swallow even a spoonful, and it required a quick exchange of his untouched bowl with Festus’s empty one to avoid a reprimand. “Here. Lima beans still taste like the war to me.”
“That’s me and oatmeal. One whiff and I want to hide in a bunker,” said Festus, who made quick work of the stuff. “Thanks. I overslept and missed breakfast.”
Coriolanus hoped the lima beans hadn’t been a bad omen. Then he admonished himself. This was no time to start embracing superstitions. He needed to keep his wits sharp, stay personable for the cameras, and get through the day. Lucy Gray must be getting hungry by now. He planned his next food delivery while he sipped his water.
With Hilarius gone, the three remaining mentor chairs in the back row had been centered, and Coriolanus resumed his seat in the middle. It was, as Domitia had called it, like a game of musical chairs, and these were the very people he’d played with during childhood. If he ever had children, and he planned to one day, would they still be among the elite Capitol social club? Or would they be relegated to lesser circles? It would help if they had a wider family network to draw on, but he and Tigris were the only Snows of their generation. Without her, he’d be headed into the future all alone.
Little occurred in the arena that afternoon. Coriolanus watched for Lucy Gray, hoping for a chance to feed her, but she remained elusive. The audience outside the arena provided most of the excitement when Coral fans mixed it up with Treech fans over who was worthiest to be crowned victor. A few punches were thrown before the Peacekeepers separated the two groups, sending them to opposite sides of the crowd. Coriolanus felt glad his own fans had a little more class.
In late afternoon, when Lucky resumed his coverage, Dr. Gaul sat across from him holding Jubilee in his cage. The bird rocked back and forth like a small child trying to comfort itself. Lucky eyed his pet with worry, perhaps anticipating its loss to the labs. “We have a special guest with us today: Head Gamemaker Dr. Gaul, who’s been making friends with Jubilee. I hear you have some sad news for us, Dr. Gaul.”
Dr. Gaul moved Jubilee’s cage to the table. “Yes. Due to injuries sustained in the rebel bombing of the arena, another of our Academy students, Gaius Breen, has died.”
As his classmates cried out, Coriolanus tried to center himself. Any minute he might be called upon to respond to Gaius’s death, but that wasn’t the source of his anxiety. Gaius would be easy enough to eulogize; he hadn’t an enemy in the world.
“I think I speak for everyone when I say we extend our sympathies to the family,” said Lucky.
Dr. Gaul’s face hardened. “We do. But actions speak louder than words, and our rebel enemies seem somewhat hard of hearing. In response, we’ve planned something special for their children in the arena.”
“Shall we tune in?” said Lucky.
In the center of the arena, Teslee and Circ squatted over a pile of rubble, poking around for who knew what. Apparently, they held no interest for Reaper, who sat high in the stands, his back to the arena wall, wrapped in his cape. Suddenly, Treech burst out of a tunnel and bore down on the District 3 tributes, who fled for the barricade.
Murmurs of confusion came from the audience. Where was the “something special” promised by Dr. Gaul? They were answered by the sight of an oversized drone flying into the arena, transporting the rainbow snake tank.
Coriolanus had all but convinced himself that the snake attack had been a product of an overheated imagination, but the entry of the tank ended that. His brain had assembled the puzzle pieces in exactly the right order. What he didn’t know was how the snakes would respond to being unleashed, but he’d been in the lab. Dr. Gaul did not breed lapdogs; she designed weapons.
The unusual package caught Treech’s attention. Perhaps he thought some extra-special gift had been earmarked for him, because he halted as the drone reached the middle of the arena. Teslee and Circ paused as well, and even Reaper rose to observe the delivery. The drone released the uncovered tank about ten yards above the ground. Rather than shattering, the container bounced on impact. Then, like a flower opening its petals, its walls fell to the ground.
Snakes shot out in all directions, creating a multicolored sunburst in the dust.
In the front row, Clemensia jumped to her feet and let out a bloodcurdling scream, almost causing Festus to fall out of his chair. As most people were only just registering the new development on the screen, her reaction seemed extreme. Afraid that Clemensia would spill the whole story in her panic, Coriolanus leaped up and wrapped his arms around her from behind, not sure if the move was meant to be comforting or confining. Clemensia went rigid but silent.
“They’re not here. They’re in the arena,” Coriolanus said in her ear. “You’re safe.” But he continued to hold on to her as the action unfolded.
Maybe Treech’s lumber district background had given him some familiarity with snakes. The second they erupted from the tank, he’d turned on his heel and sprinted for the stands. He bounced up the debris hill like a goat and kept moving, hurdling over seats as he ascended.
The few moments of confusion that Teslee and Circ experienced came at a great cost. Teslee made it to one of the poles and managed to shinny up a few yards to safety, but Circ stumbled over a rusty, old spear, and the snakes overtook him. A dozen pairs of fangs pierced his body and then, as if satisfied, the snakes moved on. Pink, yellow, and blue streaked his body as the wounds pumped out bright pus. Smaller than Clemensia, with double the venom in his system, Circ struggled to breathe for about ten seconds before he died.
Teslee stared at his fallen body and sobbed in terror as she clung to the pole. Below her, the delicate snakes bunched, rearing up and dancing around the base.
Lucky’s voice-over boomed above the scene. “What’s happening?”
“These are muttations we’ve developed in our labs in the Capitol,” Dr. Gaul informed the audience. “They’re only snakelets, but full-grown they’ll easily outrun a human, and that post will be no problem for them to climb. They’re designed to hunt humans and reproduce rapidly so any casualties can be swiftly replaced.”
By this time, Treech had climbed out onto the narrow shelf over the scoreboard, and Reaper had found refuge on the roof
of the press box. The few snakes that had managed to scale the rubble into the stands gathered below them.
The mics picked up the muted sounds of a girl’s scream.
They got Lucy Gray, Coriolanus thought in despair. The handkerchief didn’t work.
But just then, Mizzen exploded from the tunnel nearest the barricade, followed by a shrieking Coral. A single snake dangled from her arm. She tore it free, but dozens charged for her the moment it hit the ground, targeting her lower legs. Mizzen flung away his trident and made a flying leap to gain the pole across from Teslee. Despite his bad knee, he halved his previous time climbing to the top. From there he witnessed Coral’s frantic, but blissfully short, end.
With the targets on the ground disposed of, most of the snakes regrouped under Teslee. Her grip on the pole began to fail, and she cried out to Mizzen for help, but he only shook his head, more stunned than malicious.
People in the audience began shushing each other then, although Coriolanus did not know why. As the hall quieted, he picked up on what sharper ears had detected. Somewhere, ever so faintly, someone was singing in the arena.
His girl.
Lucy Gray emerged from her tunnel moving in slow motion, and backward. She lifted each foot with care as she stepped behind herself, swaying gently to the rhythm of her music.
La, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la,
La, la, la, la, la, la . . .
That was the extent of the lyrics at the moment, but it was compelling nonetheless. Following her, as if mesmerized by the melody, came half a dozen snakes.
Coriolanus released Clemensia, who had calmed down, giving her a gentle push in Festus’s direction. He stepped toward the screen, holding his breath as Lucy Gray continued to back in and then curve around toward where Jessup’s body had lain. Her voice became louder as she, knowingly or not, worked her way back to the mic. Perhaps for one last song, one last performance.
None of the snakes were inclined to attack her, though. In fact, she seemed to be drawing them from around the arena. The bunch under Teslee’s pole thinned, a few dropped from the stands, and dozens slithered out of the tunnels to join in a general migration to Lucy Gray. They surrounded her, flocking in from all sides, making it impossible for her to continue retreating. The bright bodies undulated over her bare feet, curling around her ankles as she lowered herself gently onto a chunk of marble.
With the tips of her fingers, she spread her ruffles out in the dust, as if by way of invitation. As the snakes swarmed her, the faded fabric vanished, leaving her with a brilliant skirt of weaving reptiles.
Coriolanus squeezed his hands into fists, unsure of the vipers’ intentions. The snakes in the tank, having been exposed to his scent on the proposal, had entirely ignored him. But these seemed magnetically drawn to his tribute. Could it be that the environment made the difference? Violently released from the warm, close quarters of their tank into the vast, unsheltered arena, were they seeking her out as the only familiar scent they could find? Had they gravitated to her to harbor in the safety of her skirt?
Lucy Gray knew nothing of this, because that day in the zoo when he’d meant to tell her about Clemensia and the snakes, her circumstances had been so much worse than his own that he’d kept silent on the subject. Even if he had told her, it would be a real leap of faith in his abilities to imagine he’d found a way to tamper with the snakes in the Games. What did she think was keeping them in check? It had to be her singing. Had she sung to the snakes at home? “That snake was a particular friend of mine,” she’d told the little girl in the zoo. Perhaps she’d befriended several snakes back in District 12. Perhaps she thought if she stopped singing, they would indeed kill her now. Perhaps this was her swan song. She would never want to go out without a finale. She would want to die with her boots on, in the brightest spotlight she could find.
When Lucy Gray began the lyrics, her voice was soft but clear as a bell.
You’re headed for heaven,
The sweet old hereafter,
And I’ve got one foot in the door.
But before I can fly up,
I’ve loose ends to tie up,
Right here in The old therebefore.
An old song, Coriolanus thought. With talk of the hereafter, which reminded him of Sejanus and his bread crumbs, but also that funny line about the therebefore. That must mean the present. Here. Now. While she was still alive.
I’ll be along
When I’ve finished my song,
When I’ve shut down the band,
When I’ve played out my hand,
When I’ve paid all my debts,
When I have no regrets,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The Gamemakers cut to a longer shot, which made Coriolanus want to shout an objection until he realized why. Every snake in the arena appeared to have fallen subject to her siren’s song and flocked to her. Even those in the nest under Teslee, who was ready prey, had abandoned their target and made for Lucy Gray. Still shuddering from the trauma, Teslee slid shakily to the ground and hobbled over to a chain-link fence on one section of the barricade. She climbed her way to a safe height while the song continued.
I’ll catch you up
When I’ve emptied my cup,
When I’ve worn out my friends,
When I’ve burned out both ends,
When I’ve cried all my tears,
When I’ve conquered my fears,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The camera made its way back to a tight shot of Lucy Gray. Coriolanus had the feeling that she usually catered to an audience well plied with liquor. In the days before her interview, he’d listened to many a number that conjured up a drunken group waving tin cups of gin from side to side in some dive bar. Although the liquor didn’t seem essential, because when he took a quick look over his shoulder, he saw that several people in Heavensbee Hall had begun to sway to her rhythm. Her voice rose in volume, echoing around the arena . . .
I’ll bring the news
When I’ve danced off my shoes,
When my body’s closed down,
When my boat’s run aground,
When I’ve tallied the score,
And I’m flat on the floor,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore
. . . and then reaching a crescendo as she brought it home.
When I’m pure like a dove,
When I’ve learned how to love,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The last note hung in the air while the audience held its collective breath. The snakes waited for it to fade, and then — or was it his imagination? — began to stir. Lucy Gray responded by softly humming, as if to a restless baby. The viewers quietly relaxed as the snakes relaxed around her.
Lucky looked as spellbound as the snakes when the cameras cut back to him, eyes a bit glazed, mouth slackly open. He snapped back when he saw his own image on the feed, and turned his attention to a stone-faced Dr. Gaul. “Well, Head Gamemaker, take . . . a . . . bow!”
Heavensbee Hall erupted into a standing ovation, but Coriolanus could not peel his eyes off Dr. Gaul. What was going on behind that inscrutable expression? Did she attribute the snakes’ behavior to Lucy Gray’s singing, or did she suspect foul play? Even if Dr. Gaul knew about the handkerchief, perhaps she would forgive him, as the result had been so dramatic.
Dr. Gaul allowed herself a small nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you. But the focus today should be not on
me, but on Gaius Breen. Perhaps his classmates might share some remembrances with us.”
Lepidus leaped into action in Heavensbee Hall, collecting stories from Gaius’s classmates. It was well that Dr. Gaul had given him a heads-up, because while everybody had a joke or a funny story to share, only Coriolanus managed to tie in the heroic loss, the snakes, and the retribution they had witnessed in the arena. “We could never let the death of such a stellar youth of the Capitol go without repercussions. When hit, we hit back twice as hard, just as Dr. Gaul has mentioned in the past.”
Lepidus tried to turn the conversation to Lucy Gray’s extra-ordinary performance with the snakes, but Coriolanus only said, “She’s remarkable. But Dr. Gaul is right. This moment belongs to Gaius. Let’s save Lucy Gray for tomorrow.”
After a full half hour of remembrance, Lepidus bid the show’s adieus to Festus and Io, as Coral and Circ had succumbed to venom. Coriolanus gave Festus a bear hug, surprisingly emotional at seeing his reliable friend leave the dais. He felt the loss of Io as well, since she veered more toward clinical than combative, which was more than he could say for the others remaining. Except perhaps Persephone, who he decided to share his supper hour with. Cannibals over cutthroats.
The student body went home, leaving the handful of active mentors to their steak dinners. Coriolanus glanced around at his competitors. Being in the final five, he should have been flying high. But if one of the others won, Dean Highbottom could still give him a prize that was insufficient to pay for university, perhaps citing the demerit as his reason. Only the Plinth Prize would truly protect him.
He shifted his focus to the screen, where Lucy Gray continued to hum to her pets, Teslee disappeared behind the barricade, and Mizzen, Treech, and Reaper held their lofty positions. Clouds rolled in, portending a storm and creating a dazzling sunset. The bad weather brought a quick nightfall, and he had not yet finished his pudding when Lucy Gray faded from view, and a deep rumble of thunder shook the arena. He hoped for lightning to provide some illumination, but the heavy downpour that followed made the night impenetrable.
The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes Page 28
