3. Chapter Three
Chapter three
T he clothes I put on feel foreign. And tight. The dresses I normally wear as my concierge uniform are floating and ethereal, and the black, slim-leg pants I now wear threaten to cut all circulation from my stomach down. My favourite old t-shirt is a comfort, in a way, but I don’t recognise the person it used to belong to.
‘Holy …’ Blossom trails off as I leave my bedroom, my running shoes squeaking slightly on the tiles. Her deep blue eyes are wide as she blinks at me.
‘I do not know what I expected,’ she says. ‘But that … I just don’t think that was it.’
I grin. ‘Me neither, actually. And I am seriously going to have to lose this button.’
Blossom snorts a giggle as I lift my shirt to show her the straining waist of my pants. ‘Do it – ditch the button.’
Breathing a sigh of relief, I pop the fabric open and adjust my t-shirt. Laughter bubbles from my throat as I think of Nix’s reaction at collecting me as I bust out of my pants. Just as suddenly, it disappears as I look at Blossom. I will be reconnecting with one best friend, and saying goodbye to another.
‘Stop overthinking,’ Blossom says.
She strides to me before I can respond and grips me in a tight embrace. I cling to her and bury my head in the crook of her neck, her curls tickling my nose.
‘You promised to write to me,’ she says into my hair. ‘Don’t you dare get so carried away with your new shiny life and your fuckable best friend that you forget about me.’
I shake my head, not only at the ‘fuckable’ bit. ‘Never.’
She pulls away too soon, this goodbye feeling horribly similar to the one I shared with Akira and Zale. Two people who promised to never change in my absence, and then did exactly that. As they should have – it was inevitable. But the sting of being left behind still exists. At the same time, there’s a soaring in my chest that now, finally, I will get to do the same.
‘I love you, Luka.’ She’s solemn as she looks at me.
‘You too, Bloss. Be good here. Just keep doing what you’re doing and soon enough I’ll be back to collect you, okay?’
There’s only one collection every year – only one time the government schedules a Shaide to create a portal between our prison and the Nuntainian mainland – and the world would have to end for me to miss Bloss’s. Her husband should have been the one to collect her at the end of her service, but he passed away in her first year here. It’s a loss I know she’ll never recover from, nor the guilt of not being with him when he went to the next world.
She looks down, sweeping her hands down her front as if brushing away some imaginary dust.
‘Bloss,’ I say, tipping her chin back up. ‘I will be here.’
She nods and smiles, blinking to clear the tears that have started to gather. ‘I know.’
She walks me to the departure room, a space neither of us have ever seen the inside of. Blossom still won’t, not yet – those who continue to serve are not allowed in. Apparently it reduces the temptation for a concierge to tell a collector things they have seen and done here – assuming they could find a way around the contract. But perhaps being in the same place the bans apply to is a weakness in the magic. Whatever the reasoning, the organisation of our collections is much the same as how we get to our designated duty destinations – secret. Not even the people collecting their loved ones will know where they are coming to, only the room itself.
The timber door in the far hall is unassuming, despite it being a one-way path to my next chapter. Excitement begins to tingle in my fingertips until my stomach joins the celebrations. I swallow.
‘Live hard, my friend,’ Blossom says, nudging me away. ‘Now get in there before you miss it and you’re stuck here for another year.’
I give her one more long look and push the door open, but I’m unable to meet her gaze as it closes. There are three other concierges going home today, and they all look up expectantly at me when I enter. Ciltra flits around the room, positively beaming.
‘I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to today, Luka. We’re done!’ She waves her hands in the air before racing forward and throwing her arms around my neck.
I laugh with the others, my nerves quickly being consumed by their happiness as well as my own. There is no one in this room I am concerned about leaving behind.
Just one who’s coming for me. One I have waited a long time to see again.
My heart beats faster and I begin to sweat. Brushing my hair back off my face, I tuck the stray strands behind my ears before wiping my palms on my thighs.
The sound of a portal opening to my left snags in my ears and I feel like my whole body is trembling with anticipation. The smile on my face sticking to my teeth, I lick my lips and watch the pale blue wall swirl into something else, a gentle breeze spinning through the small room.
An older woman steps out, holding her hand to the wall to steady her entrance. The long, white dress she wears is thicker in fabric than we wear up here, the temperature at home a fraction cooler than ours. She scans the room quickly but a shriek rings out before she seems to quite find who she’s looking for, and one of the younger men sweeps her up into his arms. She cries – and laughs – in time with him, and I can’t help the happy tears that run down my own cheeks.
He looks back at the remaining three of us once before he steps into the portal, hand in hand with the older woman.
My fingers press into my lips to suppress the giddy sounds that make their way forward, my mind in free fall that it’s today. A day I have waited for every moment since I arrived.
An attractive man is next through the portal and he spies his concierge immediately. They embrace hard, their mouths coming together almost angrily in their desperation.
Then it’s just Ciltra and I left. We share an awkward smile but there is a current that runs between us. The last two who have served our time and are ready to go home. The depth of the missing we’ve felt for our friends and family is now beyond words, and we each look back at the wall and wait. More than ready to see our loved ones again.
‘Mummy!’ A little girl races out of the portal straight into Ciltra’s open arms. I gasp as Ciltra drops to her knees and grips her child. I had no idea she was a mother. She sobs audibly now, her young daughter bouncing on her toes in her arms, jostling them together.
Ciltra looks over her shoulder at me, her brown eyes shining. She stands, taking her daughter’s hand and steps through the wall.
I blow out a long breath. Nix is coming. I’m going home. Now.
My life starts again. Now.
I grin as I recheck my t-shirt is covering the partially open waistband of my pants – all good. I can’t wait to laugh about this with Nix.
The breeze starts to subside a little and I watch the wall, ready for Nix’s broad form to step through. At least he was broad, I imagine he’s broader now. I wonder if his hair has lightened at all in the work he does, or if it’s the same dark auburn it was when I last saw him? I close my eyes and imagine his champagne ones smiling back at me, their slight almond shape curving up as he smiles.
I wonder if he still looks how I remember? If his life has changed as much as Akira’s and Zale’s?
My eyes open again to the portal, the breeze stilling further. The stutter in my heart kicks up a notch.
The portal starts to recede.
No.
‘No!’ I scream, racing for the closing portal. It’s only open a fraction when I reach the wall and I slam my arm in, trying to hold it open. But my fingers meet the wall, bending back on themselves, and I cry out.
Ignoring the biting pain in my left hand, I run them furiously over the wall.
‘No, no, no.’ My stomach heaves but the portal doesn’t return.
The pounding of my fists makes no difference.
Slowly, I sink to the floor, staring at the wall that was supposed to contain my future, and try to will life back into it.
It doesn’t return.
I don't know how long I sit there, dialling and redialling Nix – long enough that the pale blue textured wall in front of me blurs. The feeling has gone in my legs from the way I’m crouched, and I force myself to get up and shake it out, the blood starting to burn as it recirculates in my limbs.
Looking back at the wall, where the portal Nix was supposed to walk through was, I brush away the tears that have fallen. Then, I make myself turn my back and walk out of the room. Blindly, I meander the halls, oblivious to the concierges and prisoners I pass. The excitement I’d felt just this morning has turned to something heavy and bitter in my stomach. Someone grips my elbow and drags me into a room. I don’t resist; at least they are giving me some direction.
‘Luka?’
It takes me a moment to place the voice of the Warden and I stare at him without really seeing.
‘I—’ he says. ‘What—’ He drags a hand over his face. ‘How are you here?’ he asks.
I look at him properly, the concern pulling at the corners of his eyes.
‘I wasn’t collected.’ Saying it out loud makes it suddenly real and I gasp a shuddering breath. ‘Um … I – wasn’t collected,’ I repeat, my voice starting to wobble. ‘I was supposed to go home.’
He takes each of my upper arms in his hands and looks down at me. Dimly, I note he looks a little more frazzled than normal; he curses softly.
‘We’ll get you home, Luka,’ he says, but I think it’s a reflex response to my current circumstances.
I shake my head. ‘Collection is only once a year,’ I say, my voice hollow, telling him something he already knows. ‘And I’m not supposed to go on my own. I–I’m meant to be collected. He was going to—’
The hands that hold me grip harder as he searches my face. ‘Luka, I will find a way to get you home. You’ve done your time. You have so much to offer – you were supposed to—’ He pulls in a deep breath. ‘I will get you home and in to position in Parliament. I just … need to work it out.’ Straightening, he stands to full height, tugging me in against him in a way he’s never done before.
I cling to him like a life-raft, even though I know the rules say collections only happen once a year, and he shushes me as I cry. Just as my father once would have. When he wasn’t working on correcting the social imbalances of Nuntainia.
‘I haven’t filled your room,’ he says against the top of my head. ‘I thought Blossom might need some space before someone new joined her. Let’s get you back there.’
I nod my thanks as we make our way back to my room, the bag in my hand dragging my shoulder down. Blossom is out when I get back, tending to her duties, and the Warden leaves to do his with a final squeeze of my arm. I dump my belongings on the floor of the room that now feels so much more like the prison it supposedly is, curl up in my bed, and let myself succumb to the quiet tears.
‘What the fuck?’
Blossom’s voice breaks into the darkness I’ve created with the pillow over my face. She yanks it off as if she can’t wait any longer to confirm it’s me. As if the pants I half wear wouldn’t do that for her.
She stares at me as I carefully open my tear swollen eyes and blink into the light. The bed depresses as she perches on the side but she doesn’t ask.
I sigh, almost choking on my thick throat.
‘He didn’t come.’
Nor has he answered any of my calls or messages.
She visibly deflates and a wave of concern pulses over her features. I can see it there, the thought I have been trying to avoid since I was left in that room. Instead, letting myself get washed away in the idea that perhaps he changed his mind about collecting me.
But, the truth is, I know he wouldn’t do that. He’d never do that. As far as I’m aware, the system tries to make sure this never happens, as well.
Which means the alternative is far worse. And recent.
Blossom hovers around me for the rest of the evening, bringing me enchanted wine that warms my mouth and insides and feeding me my favourite food – including Koko’s latest chocolate ball creations – and insisting I change out of the clothes that feel so strange and constraining.
Unless I am filling my mouth with the things she brings me, I sit on our pale, cushion heavy couch with my head in my hands. Going over and over the possibilities, so many of which I don’t know. Just as Nix doesn’t know the detail of my service, I don’t know the detail of his. Except it’s dangerous. And it made his anger and sadness palpable in his letters.
My phone chimes and I pounce on it, desperate for word of Nix.
Akira flashes on the image that’s projected and I brace myself.
Where are you babe?? Tell Nix I have a Flaming George waiting here for you! If I must, I’ll buy him one too … he can’t keep you to himself all night.
I want to be happy at her remembering our go-to drink in our younger days. But the fact she obviously hasn’t heard from Nix either makes it harder to breathe. My fingers clench around the small device in my hand and I snooze its message, the image disappearing from the air. I know I shouldn’t delay telling them – postpone the questions that will come – but I don’t even know how to form the words to myself.
Something has happened to Nix, and I’m now trapped on an island in the sky.
‘Telling them won’t be easier in the morning,’ Bloss says gently, looking pointedly at my phone.
It takes me three goes to write something comprehensible that doesn’t show just how high my desperation feels like it’s running.
Luka: I’m still here. Nix didn’t arrive. I’ve tried to contact River, too, but I haven’t heard anything from either of them. I don’t want to talk now in case they ring. Sorry about tonight, I’ll let you know.
Zale: Oh Luka, I’m so sorry. Please tell us as soon as you hear. I’m sure he’s fine. Focus on finding out what happened to him, and then we’ll work out how to get you home. Akira and I are headed to his house now – he was on a short leave of absence to get you, right? We’ll see if he’s there. Will let you know what we find. Stay strong. Breathe. We’ll find him.
I throw the phone on the white couch next to me and it bounces as it lands. I watch it, again willing something to happen, but a deepening sick feeling in the pit of my stomach tells me silence will be my only answer.
‘I need to find the Warden,’ I say, standing up and walking to the door. ‘I was too stunned to ask him earlier, but he has to be able to help me find out what happened. How to get me home … he was going to find a way.’
Blossom doesn’t respond, just joins me on my way out, her brows pulled into a furrow – probably unsure how to tell me there is no way home outside of collection. Not even the portal-creating Shaides can go beyond the wards around the island without coming through the collection room, the marble plane, or the Warden’s private residence on an approved schedule.
The Warden’s office is just beyond the receiving hall, close to being under the outdoor staircase, where he has incredible views of the sky. If you peer out of the window far enough, you can just make out Nuntainia below; but there’s a better view of it on the other side of the island – from near the actual prison.
Voices filter down the dark hall as we make our way towards his office. Much of my prison is asleep at this time, aside from the night teams, but I know the Warden will still be up – it’s the only time he gets to his paperwork. I glance at Blossom as a male voice continues rising and she frowns deeper in question at me in return. We slow slightly as we creep closer, pressing against the soft cream wall, being careful not to disturb any of the gold framed paintings.
‘—not coming in here,’ I hear the Warden say.
‘We don’t have a choice.’
It takes me a moment, but then the voice registers. Traelen. I whisper as much to Blossom and she nods in agreement, still creeping forward, just ahead of me now.
‘You know I can’t get them there from here without alerting the Prime Minister and we’ll have a riot on our hands if anyone here finds out where they’re supposed to be,’ Traelen says. ‘I just need some time to smooth it over internally and work out what happened.’
Bloss reaches the doorway to the large receiving room, where it is now clear the voices are coming from, and peeks around the frame. Pulling herself back against the wall, she stares at me.
‘Prisoners,’ she whispers and shakes her head. ‘But I don’t think—’
‘Keep them here,’ Traelen continues, voice low, ‘treat them as you would any others, and I’ll try to organise a quiet transfer as soon as I can. Assuming I can get the Vanan Warden to cooperate.’
I tug Bloss’s arm and we switch positions at the door so I can take my own quick glance inwards. The Warden and Traelen talk with their heads close together, each of them carefully watching the prisoners at the other side of the room. Blossom’s right, they are very clearly different to any of our usual inmates. They’re bigger, dirtier, and their hands are still bound.
My heart races.
I pull back for a moment, taking a long breath, processing the pinched look on the Warden's face, the raised voices. The bindings that haven’t been removed.
They’re meant for Vana.
The prison for murderers, and rapists, and people who do indescribably horrible things that lie beyond my comprehension.
Their voices have lowered again and I can’t make out what they’re saying. Sneaking another look, my blood curdles like the last tipple I take in the mornings as the net of the prison tightens around me.
Before the Warden stands Nix’s older brother, River Kilroy.
And Nix.