Chapter 29
Days later, Gemma was bent over a makeshift table in the med tent, splinting a boy’s wrist after he’d fallen off one of the scaffolding ladders.
He was lucky to only have a sprain, a notion she’d tried to share with him.
But like most typical young boys, he just nodded and gave her the look that said he’d try it again tomorrow.
She was surprised how much she’d already begun to feel at home and at peace here.
Tent City was more than just a haven for these people.
They were each other’s family. And the more stories she heard about how and why they’d come to join the Dissent, the more Gemma realized how much she hated the Systems after all.
And how much Nadine had been telling the truth.
Governor Gallowood was infamous for his manipulation and dictator-like control over the Oranos Space Station.
Hawk had withdrawn into himself over the stories of how his father was behind the plot to keep the people of Perileos subservient.
How it was because of him that newfound technologies were kept on Oranos and not sent to the people in Perileos who needed them.
Gemma shook her head free of these thoughts as she tied off the last strip of spidersilk wrap. “There. Keep it elevated, and no climbing for at least a week.”
The boy gave her a half-hearted nod before scurrying back toward the rows of tents.
Nadine’s voice cut across the camp like a gunshot. “I need a medic out here!”
Gemma jerked her head up, catching Polly’s stare.
“You go,” the older woman said. “I’ll bring the bag.”
With a nod, Gemma hurried out of the tent and sprinted the rest of the way to where a crowd had already formed near the ladder. Many faces were pale. Some covered their mouths. She pushed through without apology.
Gemma’s breath caught the moment she spied Nadine holding pressure against Theo’s abdomen.
Blood covered the bottom half of his shirt and almost his entire right leg.
His face was ashen, his jaw tight with pain but his eyes still alert.
He gripped Nadine’s wrist as if holding her steady, even as his own strength faltered.
“Move,” Gemma snapped at her sister, sliding into her place without hesitation. Her palms pressed against the soaked fabric, and heat pulsed against her hands as blood seeped through.
Too much blood.
“Picked up a tail,” Theo croaked. “Killed the bastard but not before he got me first.” His eyelids fluttered closed.
“Nuh uh,” Gemma said, her voice sharper than she’d intended. “Don’t you dare close your eyes.”
Theo gave her a faint, crooked smile. “Bossin’ me around already, just like your sister here.”
“Shut up and breathe,” Nadine hissed, her eyes full of unshed tears.
Polly dropped the medbag next to Gemma, and in the next breath, Gemma was fishing for a coagulant. But there were no Systems-grade injections like the one she’d used on Christian when he had gotten shot. Just the typical patches found in the infirmaries here in Perileos.
With shaky hands, she opened and slapped a patch over the wound, praying it would seal. For a heartbeat, the bleeding slowed, but then the patch bubbled uselessly, overwhelmed. Gemma pressed her hands against Theo’s stomach again. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do?
Theo coughed, red foaming at the corner of his mouth. With clenched teeth, he grabbed Nadine’s wrist, smearing blood on her skin. “They know about her. Your sister. Whole city’s whisperin’ it now. They’re callin’ her”—he coughed again—“dangerous.”
Nadine’s face hardened as an icy cold chill of fear rolled down Gemma’s spine.
A ripple of unease moved through the gathering.
“There’s a ton of them now. Soldiers everywhere. They’re pastin’ propaganda too,” Theo rasped. “Every wall is plastered with it.” His eyes shifted to Gemma, sharp despite the pallor. “They’ve made you their story, Gemma. They’re sayin’ you’re a traitor. A weapon.”
Her heart slammed against her ribs.
Theo coughed again, a ferocious spasm that made Nadine swear under her breath. Gemma pressed harder on the wound, but it didn’t matter anymore. No one could survive on such little blood volume.
A massive lump caught in her throat. She couldn’t save him.
“They’re callin’ you the Systems’ greatest threat,” Theo whispered. “And promisin’ anyone who turns you in will have their debts erased. Full citizenship.” His gaze locked on hers, intent and desperate. “People will sell ya out. Even people ya thought you could trust.”
The words hung heavy in the air. Around them, the crowd shifted uneasily, some refusing to meet Gemma’s eyes. The hum of murmured voices grew sharper, edged with fear.
“Enough talking,” Nadine barked, trying to haul Theo toward the med tent. “Gemma, help me move him.”
They half-carried, half-dragged Theo through the parting crowd. Behind them, whispers followed like smoke:
“Weapon.”
“Not human.”
“Threat.”
Inside the med tent, Polly rushed to clear a table. Together, they lay Theo down, Gemma’s hands slick with his blood. She barely heard Polly’s instructions as she worked, her mind echoing with Theo’s words.
If enough of them believed the Systems’ lies, how long before Nadine’s protection didn’t matter?
Gemma swallowed hard, blinking back the sting in her eyes.
Theo’s hand shot out, gripping her wrist with surprising strength. “Don’t . . . let them make you a monster,” he murmured. “You hear me? You’re still . . . you. Don’t let them take that.”
His hand went slack.
“No, no, no,” Gemma muttered, tossing her gaze around the room for anything that could help. “Stay with me, Theo.”
But his gaze was already glassing over. He looked at Nadine one last time, and hardness in his expression softened into something like peace.
His chest stilled.
Gemma froze, her hands clamped to his abdomen as if she could force life back into him through sheer will. Around her, Tent City was silent. And then Nadine’s sob broke through the hush, raw and keening, as she folded over Theo’s still body.
Gemma’s palms burned with the warmth of his blood, and yet she had never felt so cold.
Her hands shook violently as that familiar tingle began to prickle in her fingertips.
The soft violet tattoo on her forearm glimmered faintly in the dim light.
She clenched her teeth, trying to will it away, her vision blurring at the edges.
But the light within her skin grew brighter.
“It’s true,” Polly whispered, her eyes widening in fear.
Gemma jumped when Christian appeared at her side. His hand found her lower back. “Deep breaths.” His voice was low, careful.
She shook her head, strands of her dark hair sticking to her forehead. “I should’ve saved him. I—if I’d been faster, if I’d had more—”
“You did everything you could.”
Her chest began to thrum, surging higher in her throat. Her pulse raced, uneven, as the air around her seemed to thicken. Her senses heightened, a violet film coating her vision. Time began to slow.
She looked down at her trembling hands—that were glowing as bright as an electrolamp.
Christian reached out, closing his fingers over hers. His touch was steady, grounding. “Gem, look at me.”
“I can’t . . . I can’t control it.” Her voice broke.
“Yes, you can. Breathe with me. Just breathe.”
Her chest heaved, ragged. The bright light in her palms wavered but did not diminish. Nadine lifted her head, eyes swollen but sharp as she registered what was happening. She reached across Theo’s body and took Gemma’s other hand.
Between them, the storm inside Gemma tugged in two directions, threatening to spill out but anchored by the people holding her fast. She shut her eyes tight.
One breath.
Two.
Three.
Four.
When she opened them again, the glow had dulled. The violet film over her eyes was gone, and time had righted itself.
Gemma sagged back on her heels, and the two people she loved most flanked her in silence. For a long moment, none of them spoke. Only the quiet drip of blood from the table to the stone floor could be heard in every corner of the camp.
That night, Gemma lay curled on the cot beside Christian, eyes open wide long after his breathing had settled into the rhythm of sleep. She kept seeing Theo’s face—gray, slack, and gone. She kept feeling the heat in her hands, the way it had built, unbidden and desperate to spill free.
Eventually, exhaustion won.
She was back in Zion, the crowd pressing in, their faces contorted in fury, screaming at her in a roar so loud that she couldn’t decipher the words.
Gemma’s knees hit the floor as she cupped her ears with her hands. She curled in on herself, terror and sorrow and guilt clawing at her heart. Her palms began to glow. No, no, please, no.
Her violet tattoo came alive, burning like fire and crawling higher and higher until the light licked across her chest, up her throat, into her face.
“Monster,” a voice whispered into her mind, and then the whisper became a chant, a thousand voices pounding in rhythm with her heartbeat.
Monster, monster, monster.
“It’s time to choose,” Other-Gemma said, stepping forward and out of the crowd. “Your life or theirs.”
She screamed.
The light seared from her skin, blinding. People fell back, shielding their faces.
The tattoo kept spreading, consuming her, until she couldn’t see her own reflection in the polished metal walls, only a figure made of violet fire.
Christian appeared, reaching for her, but the closer he came, the hotter the tattoo burned. She tried to warn him, tried to scream, but no sound came out. Her body wasn’t hers anymore.
Her arm lashed forward, the glow shooting into his chest. His face twisted in pain. He crumpled to the ground, still reaching for her even as the light tore him apart.
“No!” she finally screamed, shredding her throat.
A violent shake ripped the dream away.
“Gemma, stop. You’re dreaming,” Christian’s voice was loud and full of pain.