Poison Page 3

  Six months later, the Seeders dropped four other girls and me out of an aircraft. They wanted to see which of us could brave the dizzying heights enough to join their beloved Earth and Sky Circus. I was the only one who remembered to pull the cord on the parachute. The Seeders nicknamed me Wind Dancer and promised to teach me how to fly.

  For a little while, I actually believed them.

  It was in the circus’ animal pens that Aiden found me late one night after lights out, huddled in a corner, nursing a fresh cut across my palm from the ringmaster’s whip. I hadn’t realised then, but Aiden must have already been there when I arrived. I slid to my knees in front of the sabrewolf pen and curled my fingers around the metal bars, crying silent tears.

  Then out of the corner of the pens came a voice. “Aren’t you afraid of them?” Aiden had said.

  I backed away immediately, knowing my presence in the pens was forbidden. Through the blur of tears, I could only make out a faint shadow amidst the darkness, but even at eight, Aiden was taller than me by at least a head. I sat frozen as he came to kneel beside me, his interest captured by the pair of sabrewolves in the cage.

  “They’re the first of their kind to be successfully tamed, you know?” he said like we were old friends. “Crossed between dingo and frozen tundra wolf DNA.” After I sat in silence too long, Aiden turned to me, and I flinched. Pity filled his eyes, and I remember thinking I must have been just like a frightened animal to him.

  “I won’t tell anyone you were here,” he said. “I promise. What’s your name?”

  “Aurora Gray,” I said, knowing full well he knew who I was. Just as I knew he was Aiden Forrester, son of Gideon Forrester, the Warden of my home in Gideon’s Landing.

  “Pleased to meet you, Aurora.” He took my hand in his to shake it, and that’s when he noticed the wound. A shadow fell across his face. “The ringmaster?” he said, and there was such cold fury in his voice that all I could do was nod.

  The circus trainers never touched me again, and every night afterwards, Aiden came to watch me soar above the crowds. He showed me the secrets of the Citadel and promised to protect me. That’s how I know Seeders are liars. After the day I fell in the circus, I never heard from him again, despite numerous phone calls. After the rebellion, Gideon must have decided he no longer wished to be involved in the Landing anymore and would prefer to act as Warden from the Citadel.

  Now here Aiden stands before me, transformed into a Seeder guard. Not just any guard either. I take in the gold star on the collar of his cloak, signifying his status as a captain. Three scars run from the top of his right eyebrow and disappear into his close-cropped ash-brown hair, as though he’s been clawed by an animal. There’s a slight bump on the bridge of his nose where someone must have broken it. It speaks volumes that he hasn’t bothered to have his flaws surgically altered. I try not to imagine the things he must have done to rise through the ranks so quickly.

  “Call your other daughter,” Aiden says to Portia, not taking his attention off me.

  A grim line sets on Portia’s lips, but she does as she’s told.

  “From here,” Aiden says as Portia tries to step back the way she came.

  “Felicity,” Portia yells out. “Come out here, please.”

  Moments later, Felicity appears, dressed in a sky-blue nightgown that sets off her sunflower-golden hair perfectly. Her lips are drawn in a sullen pout and when she sees the guards her disdain immediately transfers to me. It’s like she thinks I’ve drawn the guards here on purpose, just like the thinks everything else is my fault.

  My stepfamily reaches the bottom of the stairs and comes to stand beside Micah and me. I wish they would move somewhere else. This is too close to a firing line for my liking.

  “Anyone else in the house?” Owen asks.

  “No,” Portia says. “My husband is on rotation to the Citadel and the maids don’t stay overnight.”

  “Do a sweep,” Aiden commands. The guards take out organic scanners shaped like store barcode readers and move immediately to carry out his bidding. Owen disappears up the stairs with one of the guards, and the other steps back outside to check the garden and shed.

  Aiden motions Portia forward and runs his scanner down the length of her body. The scanner beeps at five-second intervals, but the detection alarm doesn’t go off. On my right, a smile pulls at the corners of Felicity’s ruby lips as Aiden scans her in turn.

  Despite being rudely awakened, her face is as fresh as a spring bud, and though her smile is hesitant, a slow blush makes its way up her delicate neck. My mother’s ancestors originated from a pre-Famine country called Japan. I’m acutely aware that with my shoulder-length brown hair and dark almond-shaped eyes I must look like a gnarled twig amongst a field of buttercups.

  I pass my rucksack to Micah while Aiden scans me. The scent of fresh-cut grass and pine needles hangs in the air around him. I suppose if someone held a gun to my head, I would admit that Aiden is attractive. Gorgeous even. In another time and place, Aiden and Felicity could make the perfect beautiful couple. Here and now, she’s playing a dangerous game.

  Micah passes the rucksack back when it’s his turn to be scanned. Almost as though he reads the hint in my thoughts, Aiden turns to me. “What’s inside the bag?” he says. Micah stiffens and his head tilts up slightly, as though he wants to exchange a glance with me, but he restrains himself.

  “Herbs and harvest equipment,” I say with as straight a face as I can muster. My throat trembles as the words spill out.

  “And the knives?” Aiden nods towards the utility belt around my waist. My heart hammers wildly against my chest, but I force myself to take even breaths.

  “I use them to harvest weeds in the orchard.”

  “Mind if I take a look?” It’s not really a question. I move at a glacial pace to loosen one shoulder strap at a time. One escape plan after another sprouts in my mind, grows, and is dismissed. Everywhere I run, there will be guards. I can’t run anyway because of Micah and my family. All my seeds were in the bunker, but if I’m caught with the serum, there will be all sorts of questions, and questions usually lead to unpleasant things.

  Sully’s distinct growls drift through the window atop the stairs. She knows better than to attack a person in uniform, though I begin to wonder how she would fare if she did.

  Owen and the guards return before I’m halfway done with removing my rucksack. I make a show of getting it caught on my elbow and then my belt, but inevitably, it comes free and I have no more excuses. Instead of handing the rucksack over, I play dumb and start riffling around in it.

  Out comes bunches of edible weeds. Dock, plantain, dandelions, and purslane. Then a pair of Citadel-grade gardening gloves that Papa bought for my sixteenth birthday. I place each item on the floor between us. Next come a matching set of secateurs and trowel. I can feel the Seeders’ impatient eyes on me. A bead of sweat runs down my sideburn.

  I’m about to take out the night-vision goggles when Micah begins to cough. Almost immediately, he starts to splutter and choke. His eyes bulge and he clutches his chest. Portia is kneeling beside him in an instant, but neither she nor I know what to do because his attacks never progress this quickly. He coughs so loudly in succession that Sully resumes her barking. Alarmed, I place a hand between his shoulder blades, and that’s when I realise he’s faking it. The coughs come solely from his throat so his chest doesn’t vibrate like it usually does when he’s fighting for breath. He’s buying me time.

  I’m filled with sudden pride at his bravery, and it pushes me to be bold too. “He needs his inhaler,” I say to the room and then, ignoring the presence of the Seeders, I zip past the group and to the stairs and take the steps two at a time.

  “Hey!” I hear a guard shout behind me, followed by a thud and more of Micah’s coughing. By now I’m at the top of the stairs, and when I look down, Micah and a guard are on their backs, Micah’s fingers wrapped around the guard’s ankles. From the corner of my eye, I register Aiden
ascending the stairs after me. Wasting no time, I bolt into Micah’s room, open his window, and stick two fingers into my mouth. I blow a short, shrill whistle and then one long one. A signal for Sully to catch. The serum is in my hands by the time I hear Sully crashing into the shrubbery under the window. Aiden enters the room well after I toss the vial out to her. I’m quick on my feet, but if I didn’t know better, I would swear he was being deliberately slow.

  He surveys the room with the keenness of a predator, but there’s nothing to see besides the mess of gadgets on Micah’s floor. It’s no secret Micah is a prodigy; in fact, I’ll bet the Citadel has plans for him when he’s older, so they let him tinker with all the electronics he likes. Still, Aiden’s gaze bores into me as I retrieve the inhaler and we descend the stairs.

  Having found nothing overly condemning, the Seeders leave shortly after, and it’s as though a fist lets go of my heart. It isn’t until a few days later, when news of arrests all over the Landing starts filtering through the market, that I realise just how lucky I’ve been.

  Five

  A week later, the school’s groundskeeper wheels a body on an apple cart through the city square. He’s accompanied by two Seeder guards. One is Owen and the other is a man I don’t recognise, but whose face tugs at a memory I can’t quite grasp. This man’s face is carved like etchings in granite. Unease blooms in the pit of my stomach.

  You can tell the deceased is a Seeder by the fact that someone has bothered to cover him in a white tarp instead of leaving his body for the scavengers. What I want to know is why the Seeders are making a display of the death instead of keeping it quiet. Have the Reapers got them running scared too?

  An afternoon during harvesting season means the square is full to the brim with people wanting to take advantage of any produce gluts. Hawkers clog up the street’s arteries, annoying the shop owners who haven’t cashed in by renting the space in front of their stores. The hawkers are mostly Farmers who dare to dream of a life outside the fields. If they prove themselves resourceful when the next round of store vacancies comes up, the Seeders may elevate them from their station. I’m not sure if many of them realise that becoming a Merchant has more strings attached to it than a Citadel puppet show. That’s why Papa, a surgeon and medical scientist, has to spend eight months a year performing surgeries and developing who knows what in the gene laboratories.

  The Farmers shrink back as the Seeders push past, but there’s only so much space. The cart rolls closer to our store.

  “Uh-oh,” Micah says. At first I don’t understand his concern. We’re safe behind the brick wall of our shop, even when the counter and serving window is open. Then Micah points to the tiny table Leura rents from Portia for a cash fee. Instead of moving out of the way, the crowd that’s gathered has pushed her farther onto the street and into the path of oncoming traffic.

  I can’t see Leura over the tops of people’s heads, but I can hear her. “Please move back,” she says.

  Micah and I try to part the crowd blocking her retreat.

  “Move out of the way!” Micah shouts, but it’s no use. When the people I push see it’s me manhandling them, they flinch and close ranks even tighter. Suddenly, there’s a ripping sound followed by an almighty crash. The stench of rotten egg and manure fills the air. It cuts through the throng in an instant, separating the Farmers from the Merchants. The latter reel back and finally disperse, their faces screwed up like prunes. My throat constricts at the initial tang and then slowly releases as it recognises the odour. You’d think the Merchants have never smelled fertiliser before.

  Through the thinned crowd, I make out Leura’s red-chequered tablecloth wrapped around the Seeder cart’s back axle. The table and its contents lie broken and strewn about the floor. Leura kneels in the manure-soaked dirt, still attempting to clear a path. All of the Merchants moving past avoid eye contact with her and skip over the wet patches. Only two young Farmers, a girl and boy, stop to help.

  I’ve seen the sturdy black-haired girl but can’t remember her name. The boy is Gage Casseldon. Micah makes a disappointed clucking sound in his throat and moves forward. I grab hold of his belt and yank him backwards.

  “Don’t even think about moving,” I hiss. I dig my fingers into his shoulder for good measure. My brother is too soft-hearted. I like Leura well enough, but I couldn’t stand it if something happened to Micah.

  Gage witnesses my exchange with Micah, and his top lip catches in a snarl. He fixes me with a penetrating stare that must reduce the girls to jelly. If only I couldn’t see the intense hatred roiling beneath his pretty façade.

  Try as they might, the three Farmers make no headway with the mess. The liquid fertiliser is a complete loss. Leura unsuccessfully tries once, twice, three times to remove her tablecloth from around the cart’s wheel.

  Tired of her weak attempts, Owen sticks his hand between Leura’s slender fingers and tears the offending cloth away. At the same time, the unknown Seeder grabs Leura by her arm and yanks her off the floor. He speaks inaudibly to her, and when she replies, his head turns towards me.

  A predatory smile creeps over his lips. My unease turns to outright alarm. Micah twitches, and I remember I have to be brave. I dig my jittery hands into the pockets of my apron and step in front of Micah.

  The unknown Seeder leans an elbow on our serving counter. The name Vargas is embroidered on his collar. Given or surname? I can’t tell. The rickety wood bends beneath his weight. I take in his calloused palms and weatherworn skin. He’s no fancy Citadel guard, this one. On closer inspection, the markings on his face appear to be badly healed scratch wounds or animal teeth marks.

  “So it’s true,” Vargas says. “The Wind Dancer has retired to a dusty shanty in Gideon’s Landing.”

  I dry swallow the snarky rebuttal that builds in my throat. The Farmers peer over his shoulder, watching for my reaction.

  “Can I help you with something?”

  “I was there the day you fell.”

  I want to call him out on the obvious lie. I’ve never fallen during a show. Then I remember that day above the clouds. I was so afraid it felt like my heart would burst.

  I don’t recall much about the day the Seeders dropped me from the plane besides the image of the other girls lying broken and lifeless as the Seeder crowd cheered for me. Was this man there? I cast about for some thread that ties him to my past. But there’s nothing, and I can’t bring myself to indulge him beyond what’s polite.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “It was a long time ago.”

  A vein above Vargas’s eye twitches. Why does he even care? “Show me your permission certificates,” he demands. I retrieve the papers specifying what we’re allowed to sell in the shop and place them in front of him. He moistens his fingers on his tongue and paws through them one by one. Then he asks me to bring him this and that from jars lining the walls. I know everything is legitimate, but it doesn’t stop my heart from seizing every time he pops a lid open and peers inside. I pray he’s just being petty and won’t want to do a full sweep of the store.

  “What about the Farmers’ stall?”

  What about it? I think. “I’m not sure what you mean,” I say. “I wasn’t aware that we need a certificate to rent out our space.” That’s because we don’t. There are no rules about it. The region Seeders will look the other way if they get a good enough bribe.

  “You don’t need one,” he says. “But she wasn’t on your space. She was out on the street, blocking up the pathway.” It takes Leura a second to realise the implication of what he’s saying. Then the colour drains from her caramel skin.

  “No. Please, no,” she says.

  Micah twitches and tries to run at Vargas. I slide my foot between his legs. When he goes down, I keep him there with my knee on his back.

  “What are you going to do, Micah?” I say. He tries to wriggle free. “They’ll shoot you in a second and then they’ll turn on me!”

  It doesn’t take long for his rage to abate. In an
other six months, I won’t be able to physically stop him from getting himself killed. He’s growing up too fast. Except when I let him up again, his face brims with childish expectation. I know he thinks we should do something to help.

  I have bigger prey to catch. At least that’s what I keep telling myself. Sometimes it almost works. It’s fortunate nobody is paying us any attention, because when he gets up, Micah pushes a throwing knife into my palm. He must have snatched it from underneath the counter as he fell. I shake my head.

  Too many things happen at once. Vargas moves to grab Leura. Gage steps between them as Leura ducks out of the way. Vargas and Gage collide. They end up locked in a messy wrestling match. Arms and legs fly all over the place. Unfortunately, no one is watching Owen. Or the other Seeder guard that materialises from the crowd of onlookers. Vargas’s fist smashes into Gage’s jaw, sending the boy toppling. He lands on top of the dead Seeder on the apple cart.

  Gage raises his arm and my heart stops. Sunlight gleams off a piece of metal in his hand. It’s Vargas’s gun. This is madness. The other Seeders draw their weapons.

  My sight is fixed on Owen’s trigger finger. He turns the gun towards Gage. The throwing knife flies out of my hand before I can rethink the decision. The market explodes with a single gunshot that misses its mark.

  Owen roars. His weapon drops to the floor along with several of his fingers. Micah screams and tugs at my sleeve. I’ve attacked a Seeder. If they can pin this on me, I’m a goner. And for what? If he’s alive, Gage won’t be grateful. Micah’s tugging becomes too hard to ignore. I look to where he’s pointing and it feels as though someone has kicked me in the gut. Gage has rolled onto the floor, taking the tarp with him and exposing the dead Seeder I saw set upon by the Reapers.