Chapter 7
“You need to fib a bit here.” Grayson swipes a dab of the concoction Evie made under my eye to help mask the bruising. “As amazing as Evie’s abilities are with natural elements, the guards of Avren will still notice it. Your sole purpose as an Undesirable is to serve Citizens. If they know you’ve been in a fight, they might place you in solitary.”
The idea of safe alone time is tempting.
“You tripped when you arrived in the wilderness because you were unfamiliar with the rugged terrain—perfectly understandable for someone raised in the city.” Grayson provides one last swipe and smiles at me. “Our privilege is our downfall. The Council can track us. With those born in the wilderness, they can avoid work duty unless caught by Avren’s soldiers. Redeemed parents hide pregnancies all the time because the alternative is too devastating to think about.”
“So that’s why Levi, Bastian, and Evie don’t have to work? They don’t have anklets?” I glance at my reflection in a silver serving plate. I didn’t see my eye before, but I’m sure it looks better.
“They do work, but on the side of the Redeemed, not the Citizens. It’s how we earn credits to survive. You already know that Bastian is training resistance members. And it’s against three different forces, you could say—the dark and the light. On one hand, we have Avren, the tower of civility and perfection. On the other, we have Arazian and his counter-resistance—a city of darkness—snatching the Redeemed to join his army of mutants. Lady Raven is well aware of his plans but shields the city from the darkness’s very existence by lying to her people. As you know, in the city, fear leads to chaos. They value order above everything else. And then we have the Supes.”
No one ever mentioned Arazian in the city. And when people went to the wilderness instead of the Unseen, it was considered a death sentence. I didn’t know they were one and the same. The existence of a whole other city is mind blowing. “What is the other city called?”
“The First City.” His lip quirks, and he shoots me a sideways glance as he places a lid on the jar of makeup. “Ironic, really. Arazian really has it out for the people of Avren more than anyone else. He was a powerful member of the Council, and a rumor surfaced at the time that he was Lady Raven’s lover.”
Lady Raven never married, choosing to commit her life to the city. The Council had erected a statue of her in the city square, an example of purity for the rest of us to look up to. Grayson’s accusations seem sacrilegious. I no longer hold any loyalty to the leader, but denial flows through my veins. “You lie.”
“It’s only rumors. The further you’re removed from a situation, the clearer you’re able to see it. You’ll find this in time, especially when you start your assignment.” He covers my hand with his. “We are in a unique position. The others don’t understand what we’ve been through. I’m glad you’re here.”
I can’t yell at him after this. As much as I want to defend our leaders, Grayson has my best interests at heart—or at least I think he does. Changing the subject is my best course of action. “What’s Evie’s job?”
He rolls the jar of makeup between his hands. “She works at a Supe watering hole.”
“You’re definitely a liar.” I rest my arms on the table, shooting one out to stop the hypnotic rhythm of the jar. I clutch it in my palm. “Humans don’t work for monsters.”
Grayson raises an eyebrow as he pitches back from me, a menacing sparkle in his eyes. “They do when they need insider information.”
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. This man, who seemed so caring a moment ago, allows his girlfriend to risk her life for information. My suspicions are true—Levi’s the only sane one in the bunch. “Why isn’t she dead?”
He leans the back of his chair against the wall, resting his boots on the table with a thump. “Mari, Mari. It’s a symbiotic relationship. They need us for occasional feedings during dry season… to provide entertainment… as lovers. In return, they give us information about the two cities and keep us alive. Only the newbies are open for killings. If they can make it past a year, they’re usually left alone.”
“And that’s why I’m in danger.” I had thought Evie was only kidding about the Supes smelling my blood, but there is more truth to it than I had originally thought. “What does Evie do at the watering hole?”
“A bit of everything—sings, plays the piano, serves up drinks. Whatever the owners need that night.” He removes a slip of paper from his pocket and tosses it on the table. “That’s the newest information from last night.”
I stare at the piece of paper, waiting for him to tell me what’s on it.
“Go on,” he goads, pointing at the parchment. “Open it.”
Wrinkles crease the paper from its time in Grayson’s pocket. I unfold it, taking in the flowery script before reading it aloud. “Arazian is on the move.” I toss it to the center of the table. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shoves the note back into his pocket. “Most of the time, Arazian keeps to himself, choosing to hole up in his throne room. He sends his mutants to do his dirty work while he sits back and reaps the benefits.” The chair creaks as he moves his feet to the floor and stands. “He doesn’t leave his city unless there’s a damn good reason.”
“And do your sources hint at this reason?” I shrug on a cloak Evie loaned me from a hook on the wall. The inside is lined with three daggers to use as a last line of defense. Grayson and I must cross through the luminescent forest to get to my work assignment.
He lifts a battered gray cloak from another hook and puts it on before inserting a key into a locked cabinet. “No, they’re tight-lipped on the matter or have no clue, but that’s highly unlikely.” The cabinet is full of weapons—swords, knives, machetes, maces, bows and arrows. He removes one after the other, placing them strategically within the lining of his garment. A knife clatters to the floor. “Damn holes.”
“I can help,” I say, walking over to inspect the damage to the material. Moths and months, or even years, of placing sharp objects within have damaged the integrity of the fabric. “It will only take me five minutes if you have a needle and thread.”
“No time for that.” Grayson peers out the window at the setting sun. “And besides, we don’t waste our credits on things like needles and thread.”
“But you waste it on more weapons.” In Avren, clothes make the person. That was part of the reason I’d trained to become a tailor. When someone looks good, they feel better about themselves. Here, in the wilderness, clothes have a more practical use. “The mighty Kindred Few will look pretty silly loaded down in weapons and rags.”
He shoves one last dagger in his boot and tugs on the sleeves of his cloak as if he’s suddenly self-conscious about his attire. Like he said, he’d understand better than the others. “Tell you what. You earn credits, and I’ll let you buy material to make me a new cloak.”
“And the others?” I already have designs running through my head, but where will I find the time? A lot of my day will already be full of training and work duty for Avren.
“You’ll have to talk to them.” He opens the front door of the cottage, blade in hand. The forest is quiet with the oncoming twilight as animals settle in for the night. “They’ll probably want you to fix what they already have.”
While my father worked for the Council, my mother was a mathematician, spending her days among like-minded individuals. They used their calculations for the betterment of the city by advising architects, engineers, and scientists. I inherited creativity from the Barellis side of the family. In his free time, my father painted exquisite landscapes of what he dreamed the wilderness looked like. It wasn’t against the law to use his imagination in such a way, only to act upon it. When he left to see the wilderness he’d dreamed of, the Council exiled him from Avren.
The hike along the trail is different this time, partly because every small noise makes me want to run back to the cottage and partly because I have a weapon in my pocket. It provides me a small sense of security. I glance at Grayson walking beside me. Although he is slightly smaller in stature than Bastian, his presence and weapons settle my nerves. He took down a werewolf, so that must give him some badass credits.
He walks with conviction, and I struggle to keep up. But I don’t complain. The forest sets every nerve on edge. “Besides your training with Bastian, Evie and I will work with you to reverse your brainwashing.”
“I can think for myself.” I stop. His statement offends me more than anything said so far in the wilderness. “You think you’re so high and mighty because you’ve lived here for seven years. It takes time to adjust. We both lived for many years in Avren—our friends are there. You can’t say it’s all bad.”
Grayson hangs his head, sunlight casting shadows on his face.
“How can you forget what it was like having everything you need, the comfort of a temperature-controlled apartment, and the peace permeating our lives?” I don’t understand how he sees the wilderness, with its dangers and discomforts, as preferable.
He raises his eyes to mine. A fire burns behind them. It’s a phenomenon I’ve never seen in another human. The only way I can describe it is passion. “The founders built the city on the backs of others, Mari. Your luxuries, your comfort, and your peace directly result from thousands of other people working for nothing and without a choice. We were no better than Arazian’s zombies. The Council orchestrated our careers, our marriages, our sex lives with our spouse, our free time. To me, freedom means more than any kind of comfort or peace the city brings.”
He walks ahead of me, and I remain quiet, chewing on his words. Within no time, the spires of the city come into view, rising from the darkening landscape like a pillar of golden hope. Seeing it again ignites a flame in the pit of my stomach, but I squash it as quickly as it rises.
I’m here to work.
As an Undesirable.
“After enough training, you’ll make this trek yourself. For now, one of us will escort you. The others won’t take you directly to the door since they’re not tagged, but they can get you close enough so you’re safe.” With a quick glance around, he removes his cloak. I hand him mine, and he hides them both beneath a bush. He leads me along a trail that runs down a hillside to the opening of a massive cave. Dozens of Avren’s guards keep watch at the entrance.
“Brought us a new one tonight, Grayson?” A shorter guard elbows the one beside him, who flashes his buddy a devious smile. “And a pretty one.”
Grayson stiffens beside me but relaxes as he approaches the guards. “Mack… Kyle… this is Maribel Windsong.” He waltzes past them, removes a clipboard from a metal box, and scans the paper attached with his finger. “Says here she’s reporting to the Sweet Street Bakery.” He tosses the clipboard onto the box. “I’ll escort her there.”
“Wait a minute.” Kyle, the taller one, approaches me and lifts a finger to my hair. My stomach curls, but I remain still. “How do we know she isn’t carrying a weapon?” His hand moves to my waist, and it takes everything within me to keep from trying out the leg sweep move. With his breath hot in my ear, he says, “I think I’m going to have to frisk her.”
I don’t know what I expect from Grayson. They have guns. He doesn’t. The group also outnumbers him twenty to one.
“I’ll vouch for her.” Grayson snatches my arm and pulls me away from Kyle. “If anything happens, you can string me up in the city square and remove the blocks yourself.” He doesn’t let go, clutching me hard against his chest. “Ever since they kicked me out of the city, you’ve looked for an excuse. Maybe today’s your lucky day.”
“The Council knew you were an Undesirable from the day you were born.” Mack spits, hitting Grayson in the face.
As the saliva runs over his cheek, he wipes it away with his sleeve, not bothering to give Mack any reaction to his degrading act.
“You can protect her this time, phaloc, but she won’t always have you by her side.” Kyle laughs as we pass, his eyes trailing me the entire way into the cave. Bastian’s training seems more important than ever.
“I went to school with Kyle and Mack,” Grayson says through gritted teeth. “There’s something about being in the wilderness that brings out the worst in the people of Avren. They think that once they cross the line where they’re no longer in the city, they can act like animals.” He finally releases me as we enter an enormous cavern filled with machines and furnaces.
Men and women work the machines in oil-stained uniforms. Some workers are missing an arm or leg; others have darker skin colors, or sign to their coworkers. Sweat covers their faces. The heat and noise within the cave are almost as intense as the turmoil brewing inside me.
The noise dims from the machines as we press farther into the hillside and closer to the city. Streets lined with shops materialize, still within the cave but providing a more pleasant atmosphere. Lanterns light the cobblestone walkways where people gather after a hard day’s work. Couples sit at tables eating an evening meal with friends. Laughter and music come from a building where people are dancing inside. It’s a mixture of Undesirables and Citizens. This is the neutral zone—a place my mother knew well. It surprises me to see it open with the current worries about the sickness.
Grayson lifts the corner of his lip. “This is the closest thing to freedom the people of Avren can experience. They still outlaw alcohol and dating, but the Council can’t stop the people from having fun.” He clasps a lamppost and spins around it, coming face-to-face with me. “Do you have a favorite song?”
The question strikes me as peculiar. In Avren, there is one song that is everyone’s favorite. “The National Anthem.” How could he expect any other response?
He taps the side of my head with his finger. “And that right there is brainwashing.” Grayson dances over the cobblestones to the rhythm of the music coming from the nearby building. “Songs are supposed to be a matter of preference, not what you’re told is your favorite by leadership.” He dances up to me and places a hand over my heart. “What moves your soul, Mari?”
No one has ever asked me that question before. The Council appraised my skills and talents to determine my career path, to choose my leisure time activities, and eventually, they would have found my perfect match. It didn’t matter what I wanted. My own thoughts and desires weren’t even secondary in their decisions. To create the perfect society, we had to give up our destructive free will.
Thoughts of Flynn come rushing in, but they quickly morph into Bastian. My heart, and maybe soul, flutter at the memory of his touch. My cheeks warm as I push away my traitorous thoughts. “I don’t know.”
A wide smile pulls at his lips. “Then I will help you discover it.”
The mouth of the cave opens to the pillared white walls of the city. My breath catches seeing it again. I search the fifth floor for the entrance to our apartment, but the buzz of the city draws my attention. Gorgeous people in exquisite dress, so familiar to me but seemingly a world away, grace the streets of Avren. My friends and Flynn are among them somewhere, and a fresh horror hits me. They might see me in my new role as an Undesirable. They will look at me the way I looked at the outsiders in the past. Guards stand watch, taking papers from workers.
“They won’t let me go any farther without my own working papers.” Grayson hands me a black wallet. “Do you know where Sweet Street is located?”
I roll my eyes. Every kid in Avren knows where the confectionary wonderland is located.
“Never mind,” he says, brushing a wisp of hair from my forehead. It’s endearing in an older brother kind of way. “You’ve got this. Don’t let the hatred get to you.” He places a hand over my heart. “Your worth is in here, and like Levi said, you’re kin now. Someone will be at the entrance of the city to pick you up when your shift’s over.” He pats the top of my head and then he’s gone.
I draw in a breath, aware of how Evie’s clothes make me stand out among the elegantly clothed people of the city. The linen pants and cotton shirt are plain among the velvets and silks of the Citizens. Straightening my shoulders, I hold my head high, ready to learn the ways of the Sweet Street Bakery.
The bell above the door jangles as I walk in. A man behind the counter draws in his dark eyebrows. His countenance quickly changes as he turns back to his customer and hands her a bag. “Enjoy.” As soon as she leaves, he sweeps around the side of the counter and all but shoves me to the back of the shop. “Never enter through the front door again.”
“I’m sorry,” I stutter, practically tripping over my shoes as he ushers me past workers kneading dough and pulling loaves of bread from hot ovens. “I didn’t know there was a back entrance.”
“There’s always back doors for phalocs like you,” he hisses. He opens a cupboard and removes a bundle of clothing, shoving it into my arms. “Get changed, and Kit will show you the ropes.”
A woman with olive skin and beautiful brown hair assesses me from her workstation. She frowns.
He opens a door to a supply closet, then stomps away to serve another customer with a smile. I lay the clothes on a barrel and slump to the floor. My heart drops at the idea of having to prove myself yet again to a bunch of strangers. I gaze at the blue-and-white striped uniform, reluctant to take on another identity.