Chapter 11 #2
One of the downsides of trying to force everyone to be identical: you miss the loose tiles.
Sweeping aside the curtain, I crouch down once again to run my fingers along the shower floor. Most of them are firmly set in place, but one of them is slightly tilted diagonally, the grout around its far end deeper than the others.
Sliding my fingernails into the crack, I heave, tug, and—pop!—the entire tile comes loose.
I stifle a gasp in my throat, forgetting, for a second, that there are no cameras in bathrooms. What I’m doing feels so wrong, so forbidden, that it takes me a second of deep breathing before I carefully lean forward and peer into the dark, empty space beneath the missing tile.
Not empty, actually. Squinting, I can make out several objects that wink back at me. More necklaces? More ways to speak to the Monster? If I touch these things to examine them more closely, will his taunting voice infiltrate my head again?
No. When I dip my hand into the hole and my fingertips graze the object on top, no electricity fills my veins. I grasp it and pull it out into the light, a frown forming on my lips.
It’s a dense, round object with a small handle poking from the top.
An ornate design wraps around the center, where several numbers form a circle and three long, thin slivers tick round and round at different speeds.
I watch the fastest one, mesmerized, until it’s ticked itself all the way around before I reach back into the hole for another object.
This one is also round, but much smaller and daintier with a clear-cut jewel that sits on top.
Without even thinking, I slip it onto one of my fingers before sliding it back off again just as quickly.
Another piece of jewelry, if I had to guess.
But one that doesn’t connect the wearer to the mind of the Monster…
simply meant for wearing and looking pretty.
One by one, I pull out the rest of Diggory’s forbidden objects and examine them each with a breath that seems to stick to my lungs like a cold sweat.
There’s a long, thin cylinder of wax with a blackened wick sticking from the top.
A piece of ribbon so much smoother and silkier than anything I’m issued to tie my hair up with.
A box that snaps open to reveal a little figurine in the center, though I don’t dare touch the miniature handcrank that juts out from the side.
Finally, there are only two objects left, both of which glint back at me when I peer down at them.
The first has my eyes widening so fast, I swear they’re going to pop out of my head. I only know what this is because we’re taught from a young schooling age that the Blood Moon Palace is always locked outside of the Choosing. It’s a key—silver but tarnished.
And the next object… my fingers seem to know what this is before I even bring it out into the stuttering electric light of the bathroom.
My hands begin to quiver as they close around the handle, and I only allow myself half a glance at the clear, reflective surface before I shut my eyes and stuff the thing into the inside pocket of my cloak alongside the necklace.
A mirror.
Something creaks outside the bathroom door, and I jump. Probably just Belinda getting herself another cup of tea, but I have a feeling that my time is up anyhow.
Willing my hands to calm down, I pretend I’m doing something as methodical as stitching up a cut as I place each of the objects back into the hole beneath the missing tile.
If I could, I would take them all, just so Belinda doesn’t have any incriminating evidence to deal with, but I doubt everything could fit in my pockets without creating a noticeable bulge.
Just as I’m about to put that tarnished key back into its hiding place, however, I pause to stare at it.
Could it be a copy of the key to the Blood Moon Palace? Or to a passageway that leads into the palace? If Diggory was as obsessed with breaking into there as Belinda claims, then I’m pretty sure it’s safe to guess where all of these objects came from: the Guardians themselves.
Suddenly, I have to bite down on a knuckle to keep myself from letting loose an absurd laugh.
Diggory was stealing from the actual Guardians. No wonder they didn’t want to let him go back to the Healing Center.
A decision clicks into place within me. I pocket the key, too, then slide the tile back where it belongs. If I’m not mistaken, Belinda won’t notice they’re gone because she refuses to look too closely, too afraid of what she’ll see.
Well, she has a lot more self-control than I do, apparently.
Straightening, I swish aside the curtain to step out of the shower, and make a point to busy myself at the toilet. I open and close the lid, flush, and wash my hands at the sink before I finally allow myself to return to the kitchen.
Just as I predicted, Belinda is sitting at her kitchen table once again, a fresh cup of tea cradled in her hands.
“Stomachache?” she asks dryly. I hear the hidden message beneath her words: cutting it kind of close, don’t you think? And yes, maybe I was in there for a little too long, but all I can do is clutch a hand against my lower abdomen and nod with a soft groan.
“The red clover’s a little strong for my taste,” I lie. “But thank you for the visit anyway. I’d best get going now.”
I dip my head and hurry to her door, trying not to glance at the blinking camera above her screen. It’s only when my hand rests on the doorknob that her voice sighs out at me, “The Monster is no idle threat. He is what awaits transgressors like my partner… and he is hungry.”
The way she says it makes me shiver. But after my last conversation with the Monster himself, I’m beginning to think no one is thrown over the Wall at all.
And the more I think about it, the more ridiculous the idea becomes.
Why would the Guardians waste all that blood?
What would be the point? Besides to instill fear in us.
The way Lucan practically laughed in my face when I said that echoes in my brain.
I know she’s trying to tell me to be careful, to tread more lightly than Diggory did or else the consequences will be severe, but for some reason I can’t help the thrill from erupting in where my supposed stomachache is.
Because maybe the Monster isn’t the only one who’s hungry.
Maybe I’m a little bit hungry, too.
The curfew announcement rings through the air as I hurry back down the main road, trying to tell myself to not hurry. To swing my arms at my sides like everyone else and not like someone who has a necklace, a mirror, and a key in her pockets.
“Citizens of Xantera, please return to your individual housing units. Recreational time is over. Citizens of Xantera, please return to your individual housing units. Recreational time is over.”
Oh, how I’m beginning to hate that smooth, female voice. It reminds me of the Wall—impenetrable and all-encompassing, squeezing us all tighter and tighter until we don’t have any of our own choices left.
Still, as I veer off the main road to head down the darkened alleyway between complexes, I can’t help but feel the excitement tingling in my fingertips at the prospect that I made a choice tonight. Several, in fact.
I didn’t turn the necklace in to the Guardians.
I discovered Diggory’s secrets that even the sentries couldn’t find.
I chose which of those secrets to carry home with me.
As if on instinct, I slip my hand into my pocket and graze the vial again, just to feel that shock, a reminder that I’m alive.
As soon as I’m safe in the confines of my own bed, I plan to—
My feet lurch to a standstill as I round a corner and face my housing unit’s door.
Fear floods through me, surging from my heart and down my body to the very tips of my fingers.
Because a sentry is already standing in front of it.