Chapter 2 #4
I groaned. Wonderful, even in this made-up world, new people got the short end of the stick. “What’s a contra—”
“You failed your entry.” Hope cut me off, clearly done with the first part of our conversation.
“But the Architect himself signed off on your acceptance. With the power you displayed, I have no doubt those who saw your test will be understanding.” She set down the paper and patted her chest. “We’re a haven for those in need, and you, my dear, are in need. ”
My months, not months, of wandering and running from people hit me hard. I took a deep breath. “I don’t know if we are on the same page as to what I need, but, yeah, you’ve got a point.”
She nodded sagely. “I trust the Architect implicitly, as should you. Unfortunately”—she turned the glowing page—“there are no free rides. I hope participation doesn’t deter your interest. We will take care of you here. You can make whatever choices you want. It’s a good family to join.”
I smiled and nodded. All of that sounded good, if a little like an advertisement.
My response relaxed her slightly before she frowned at the glowing square again. “Your arrival was late in the process. We’re doing what we can.” She peered at me. “There’s only one room left in Grady Hall.”
She looked at me as if that should mean something.
It didn’t, but I nodded anyway.
“Your clothing is a bit flashy considering your financial situation,” she said, looking me over. “But you’ll blend in well in the hall until your uniform’s finished.”
I pulled on my threadbare scarf under the oversized jacket I’d gotten at a discount store, trying to figure out what any part of that sentence meant.
“Can you read and articulate your thoughts?” she continued before I could ask about my clothing.
I had no idea what ‘articulate your thoughts’ meant, but based on the pairing with ‘read,’ I assumed it was either writing or speaking, both of which I could do. I answered yes.
“Good, then we can skip all of that. No scheduling is done until your knowledge is assessed.” She pursed her lips.
“You’ll have a few days to settle before your work-study begins.
” Her face hardened. “Despite the Architect's interest in you, if you don’t show up for your work-study, you’ll be forced to leave.
This is not a school, but a community. Everyone pulls their weight.
You’ll do unskilled labor until we can assess your strengths and place you in a more fitting role. ”
“I understand.” I put my hands up. I hadn’t said anything to make her defensive, that I knew of. “I’m grateful to have a place to stay with women running things so smoothly.”
Hope beamed; the pride she took in the Architect’s Castle was evident on her face. I smiled, hoping I didn’t come across as sarcastic.
“Brody!” Hope said, unnecessarily raising her voice. “Tour time, then get him keyed into his room.” Hope winked at me.
He? I raised an eyebrow before remembering the chancellor’s comment about keeping my gender close to my chest. Interesting. There was a meeting about me. My gender must not have been on my paperwork either, if Hope wasn’t worried about Angela.
My mood fell. I wasn’t a good actor. It’s why I lay in the hospital getting a lobotomy instead of putting on a mask and ignoring my issues.
A tear threatened to fall, and I brushed it away. I’d tried so hard to be normal. To make my dad happy and function in society. Brain surgery was our last option; I had to trust Doctor Oz knew what he was doing. I needed to survive this gauntlet my subconscious pushed me into.
“At the moment, you don’t have a roommate,” Hope continued. “But expect that to change. Our family facilitates the mixing of people, regardless of power or wealth. Your place here will be based on skill alone.”
I wrinkled my nose. Being a ‘Moore’ had already let Angela get away with breaking and entering.
“Brody will explain everything else you might need to know.” Hope smiled. “Welcome to the family.”
Brody stood a few inches above my height and couldn’t be more than sixteen, based on both his looks and his lack of spatial awareness. He clearly didn’t want to be giving me a tour when he could be blowing off steam anywhere else.
The fog had eased a bit, leaving the world damp. We once again stopped in the middle of a walkway, forcing a man to scoot around us to continue walking in the opposite direction. I was pretty sure Brody hadn’t noticed the other man existed.
“What’s that building?” Brody asked me, pointing at the chiseled writing above the door.
I sighed and read the sign out loud. “Alchemy Lab.”
Brody gave me a patronizing grin. “All the buildings are named after their function, from AT, of course.”
I had no idea what AT meant, and based on his already pointing fingers, Brody wasn’t going to slow down to explain.
“And everyone in uniform is either a trainee or working. You can only wear street clothes when you’re off duty.” Brody wagged his finger as if I hadn’t been able to spot the middle-aged man in simple gray pants and a wool sweater. He scowled at Brody’s finger and hurried out of view.
“Wouldn’t it be better to point out the people in uniform, so I knew what they represented?” I asked.
Brody looked at me like I was an idiot.
“Blacks are enforcers. Brown and tan are trainees, fresh meat, or those who have already begun their training. Some other tunic colors indicate specific functions in the castle; you’ll figure it out.” He hurried forward, and I trailed after him.
Earlier, someone in denim overalls had disappeared into a foreboding building, which Brody claimed was the library, though it looked more like the doors to an underground prison. He hadn’t filled me in on what that person did either.
I opened my mouth to ask, but noise was already coming out of his mouth again. “I shouldn’t have to work today,” he grumbled. “You’ve messed up my entire day.”
I wrinkled my nose and refused to feel guilty. Brody, the person, didn’t exist, and this wasn’t my fault. “Welp, sorry to hear that?”
We rounded a corner as a body flew toward me.
I barely managed to sidestep. The sound of a woman screaming pulled my attention to the center of an alley.
Phantom crying filled my ears, and I immediately started shaking.
A memory of something that never happened tried to fight to the surface.
The weight of shackles dragged down my arms, and a cold collar burned my throat.
The woman in the center of the alley changed from a scream to a joyous whoop.
Whatever PTSD shenanigans Miss Q had been trying to pull me into ended.
I studied the scene and found the woman grinning from ear to ear as she held out a powerful, muscled arm to block one of her attackers.
A long scar ran across her face, disappearing into her pixie cut of thick, moss-green hair.
“Get her!” Brody cheered.
I shot a look at Brody before pumping my fist in the air. “You go, girl! Kick their asses.”
The man who had flown past me righted himself.
He and the three others regrouped and charged.
For a moment, all I could see was a tangled mass of men punching and kicking.
Moss green glowed out of the cracks between their bodies, and all four went flying backward.
The woman, whose skin now looked rough and rocky with the same moss-green color, struck a pose, looking down her nose at the four on the ground.
I jumped and clapped.
“You really are a pit fighter?” one of the men asked.
The woman turned to him. “I’ll keep beat’n on you if you're still not sure.”
Brody groaned and grabbed my wrist, already turning back in the direction we’d been going. As soon as his skin touched mine, he stopped, his grip tightening, and his eyes widened.
“You’re a woman,” he whispered.
I scowled. “Let go of me.”
I pulled back, and Brody’s grip tightened.
A blur of moss green shot to my side. The woman gripped Brody’s elbow, digging her thumb below his joint, and rotated his arm up as though he was a toy. Brody let out a yelp and released me, springing back.
His cheeks turned red. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”
The woman pursed her lips. “Grabbin' anyone’s wrong. Man, woman,” the pit fighter furrowed her brows at me, “or runt.” She shifted her gaze to a tall, muscled man she’d trounced, trying to brush mud off his black slacks.
“Or posh family princess.” She turned back to Brody.
“You’re lucky your friend here isn’t a woman.
I’ve a special spot in my heart for men who beat the fairer half. ”
Brody turned white and glanced at me.
I wrinkled my nose.
As much as siccing the pit fighter on him sounded fun, he was just a kid who hadn’t done anything wrong. He looked ready to pee his pants, and I still needed to get keyed into my housing situation. And keep up my ruse as a man, apparently.
“Why a special place for men who abuse women?” I asked, making my voice as gruff as I convincingly could.
The pit fighter studied me. “Because we’re not objects.” She faced me fully and squared her hips. “We aren’t baby-makers for your bloodline. We don’t exist for you to sink your magic into and leash.”
I shrank back. Her words made my lower back ache. The three spots flared unhappily as the three men who’d tried to hurt me in each scenario flashed across my memory.
The man in dark camo, with coal-black hair and yellow teeth, that sparkled with gold.
The druid, with his long sage green dreadlocks and flock of followers.
And Gandalf, with his trusting face and twin boys.
What if the spots on my lower back weren’t from the delusions, but the people in them? I didn’t like that at all and focused on the pit fighter to keep myself in the moment.
“We’re a wee piece of the population.” The pit fighter didn’t back down. “But our gender doesn’t give us value.” She spat. “Pigs, both of ya.”
She lunged for Brody, who flinched back before she pulled up short and cackled. Her muscled ass swayed as she walked away from us.