Crimson Rising (7 page)

“Did I ask you a question?” August fumes.

His head goes down. “No.”

August continues to approach until he’s within striking distance. He could do anything. He could trip me and push me off the platform altogether if he wanted to. “You know,” he whispers, “if I were to knock you out and drag you outside the ship … leave you in the middle of nowhere so that you couldn’t find your way back, there are plenty of people onboard that would call me a hero, including some of the adults.”

My back tenses. I inch away from him, but I can’t go far. A few more steps and I’ll be falling back to the mats. If I had a Pearl right now, I’d show him what I can really do. I’d wipe the smug look from his face.

My lip quivers. I try not to let it, but I can’t help it. My voice is small, retreated somewhere inside of me. “So what are you gonna do?”

His eyes narrow. “I’m not sure yet. I’ve been thinking about it, you know… the consequences. Weighing the good and the bad. I always knew there was something different about you, Fisher, but I never gave you enough credit. That’s my mistake. It all fits together now.”

“You’re an idiot.” I refuse to meet his eyes.

“What did you say?”

“An idiot,” I repeat, louder. “A moron. You know … stupid.”

He shakes his head, visibly distressed.

“You’re jealous,” I continue. “Aren’t you? That’s what it really is. You’re just upset that all of Alkine’s attention is on me. You’re … you’re not the important one for once.” Manjeet grabs my shoulder. “Jesse … ”

August stands still for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, before I can react, his fist connects with my stomach. I bend forward, then stagger to the side. The heel of my shoe hangs off the edge of the platform for a split second before I stumble back to safety. I can’t talk. Can barely breathe.

He’s about to punch me again when a voice rings across the ceiling, emanating from speakers all around us. It’s Mrs. Dembo. “Year Elevens!” she bellows. “Get off my course!” August’s friends scatter. August sneers at me for a moment longer, unwilling to move. But I barely see him. Something else happens.

My vision goes red. I don’t know if it was triggered by the force of his punch or not. I topple onto my side. Manjeet panics. “You’ve killed him!”

August prods my leg with his foot before stepping away. “No, I haven’t. He’s just a freak, doing what freaks do.” I barely hear him. The heavy red begins to fade. Then, clear as a photograph, the coastline pulls into view again.

Only this time it’s different. I can manipulate it now, like I’m a bird staring down at the land. I pull away and steal a wider view. I twist in the air and see the pathway to the Academy—every last inch of it, all at once. Coordinates flash in my mind, exact crosshairs targeting the destination. I see everything, and in such detail that it’s almost too much. I imagine the Drifters sending the information to me. They’ve got to be doing it. They’re reaching out. They’re helping me.

My eyes snap open. The ceiling tiles of the training room blur into view, but the memory of the coastline remains. It’s burned into me.

“Jesse.” Manjeet crouches by my side. “Are you okay?” I nod. Never been better.

I’ve got it. I know where to find them.

Cassius woke with a start. His head jerked back and banged against a wall, sending a jolt of shock through his skull. His hands were pulled unnaturally to his sides, his legs bundled together and secured to the metal behind him.

He smelled it instantly, like coming home. Even after the fire he had conjured destroyed much of the main floor last spring, the sterile, scrubbed-down smell lingered—the hint of lavender that she insisted must always hang around. Memories flooded his barely conscious brain. Training courses, conversations, faces. He had no doubt. He was in the Lodge.

He took note of his surroundings, trying to discern what wing he was in. He knew the building inside and out, yet this room was unfamiliar. It was no bigger that the infirmary he’d woken in after his first explosion, and empty. A wall of cabinets hung to his right, each door shut and locked. Temperature-controlled air seeped in through the ceiling, pristine and cool.

He struggled against the restraints. No use. He was trapped.

His mind rocketed back to the slum lands of Providence—Avery Wicksen’s cold, emotionless face staring back at him as she injected the fluid into his neck. If he was truly in the Lodge now, they’d have traveled thousands of miles past the border and into New York State. He’d been unconscious the entire time, unable to remember any of it. Helpless for hours. They could have done anything to him.

He nearly lost it for a moment. It was the smell, mostly. He knew all of the officials at the Lodge on a first-name basis. He’d had friends here. Not real ones, but acquaintances nonetheless. Had they watched him being carried in? The murderer who had double-crossed their leader and left her for dead? If Cassius had been in their position five months ago, he would’ve wanted revenge. They’d be right to hate him.

His breathing quickened. He forced himself to calm down. Panicking would cloud his mind.

The door handle turned.

He tensed as he watched the single door crack open. A shadow fell across the wall.

Then Madame entered.

His heart sunk. He blinked twice to make sure he wasn’t seeing things. His expression lost all composure. She’d be happy to see that, he knew.

Madame. Alive. Walking.

“No,” he started. “No, I saw you … ” He trailed off. Words couldn’t express it.

She stepped into the room with the same authoritative ease she’d possessed when he’d last lived at the Lodge, when he’d still considered himself her son. Her dark hair was tied back, not a single strand out of place. She wore a custom-fitted business suit. The sleeves of her white blouse spilled over her wrists. The familiar pair of delicate spectacles rested over her cold eyes. Below that, a scar ran down her left cheek until it met with the folds of her smile. But she wasn’t smiling.

“Cassius.” She shut the door behind her. He bristled at the sound of her voice. “Welcome home.”

“No.” It was the only sound he could make.

He watched her approach. He didn’t dare speak for fear of what she would do. He’d seen her handle enemies before. Mercilessly. He’d watched her lock away Skyshippers without food until they were skin and bones, until she had drained everything she needed from them.

She shifted toward the cabinets, leaning her shoulder against the wood. “You’d have never seen this wing. Experimental. One needs the proper clearance to gain access. You were nearly there. Another three weeks, maybe, and I’d have let you take a peek.”

She crossed her arms. Cassius scanned her hands for weapons. They were empty.

“Tell me about your vacation.” She gave a cold smile. “I’ve heard the Polar Cities are particularly nice this time of yea r.”

“You’re supposed to be dead.” He choked out the words.

“Am I?”

He glared at her, unable to speak. It was like talking to a ghost. How could she have been so strong? And that scar …

She followed his gaze. “Admiring my little souvenir?” She ran her finger against her cheek. “The doctors offered to sew me up completely, but I asked them to leave a little something. I’ve grown too vain, anyway. It’s a sort of gift. Your gift to me, Cassius.”

She took a deep breath and approached him, her eyes latching onto his. “Oh, don’t be so serious.” She leaned her hand against the wall, inches from Cassius’s face. “It’s good you escaped for a little while. A boy your age… what kind of a mother would I be if I didn’t let you go off and find yourself?”

“You’re not my—” The words hurt as they came out. He couldn’t finish the statement.

“Shh.” She held a finger to his mouth. “Don’t strain yourself. You’ve had a very long day.” She turned on her heel and strode back, pacing through the small room. “Things have been different since you left. I’d imagine you would have guessed, but you don’t know the extent of it. Skyship has been all over us, infiltrating every sector of our organization. The President caught wind of it too late, as is usual for him.” Her delicate fingers balled into fists at her side. “Things are even more combustible than before.” She paused, smiling. “Combustion. You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t—”

“That’s right,” she interrupted, as if reading his mind. “You don’t care about affairs of the Unified Party anymore. You’re a little maverick, now. Good for you.” She moved back to his side, grabbing his right sleeve and pulling up to reveal his wrist. “I see I’m not the only one with a scar. I’m impressed, Cassius. You had the force of will to remove your microchip and manage to get across the border undetected.” She pressed hard on the scar with her thumb, sending a jolt of searing pain up his arm. “Pretty clever.” She released his throbbing arm. “Don’t think about summoning any fireworks today. I’ve got you on strong medication. You’re not going anywhere until I want you to.”

He winced in pain as she slid to his shoulder, whispering in his ear. “Why did you have to do it, Cassius? You showed such promise. I was prepared to give you everything, but you threw it away.”

She spun forward and grabbed his chin, pushing the side of his face into the cold metal. Her polished nails pricked his skin. “You don’t leave your mother like that, buried under rocks in the middle of a wasteland. It’s inhuman. I taught you better than that. You were weak, Cassius. It was a coward’s move.”

He sputtered, stealing a breath as she let go of him. His head hung low. He glared up at her through exhaustion. “I didn’t—”

“Don’t talk back to me.” She straightened her blouse. “You’re in no position to talk back to me.”

He analyzed her cold, distant eyes. They were emptier, somehow, like she’d lost more than her flawless face these past few months. For a moment he felt sorry for her, but it was a fleeting emotion replaced quickly with anger.

“You sent Avery Wicksen after me,” he muttered. It came out part declaration, part question.

“So I did,” she replied. “People have their uses long after you’d suspect. Even you, Cassius, still hold some value to me.”

He scoffed. “Is that why you’ve got me chained up in here?”

Her brows raised. “After all you’ve done, you’d expect me to let you roam free?”

“I want out,” he said. “That’s all. I don’t want anything to do with you.”

Her eyes slit. “I’m afraid that’s a choice that you don’t get to make. We have a history, Cassius. It’s not so easily erased.”

He swallowed and found his voice. “I … I saw you there, buried under the rocks. There’s no way—”

“I know you did.” She paused. “Did that make you upset? How long did it take before you forgot about me?”

He rattled his restraints. “Let me go!”

She laughed, which only made him angrier. “You’re so aggressive, now. You’d have never spoken to me like that before. Maybe Canada was good for you.” She removed her spectacles and pulled a cloth from her pocket to polish the lenses. “But you’re not equipped to be on your own, Cassius. You belong here, with me.”

He met her eyes and knew instantly that it was a mistake. This was what she wanted. A connection. And once she found it, she knew exactly how to exploit it.

“You’re getting older,” she started. “I’ve noticed it these past years, but things have grown out of hand. There’s normal teenage rebellion and then there’s you.” Her eyes latched onto his. He felt helpless, unable to break free from the bonds and do something. “Harnessing, I call it. This entire wing’s devoted to the study of it. A personal interest of mine, I suppose you could say.”

He coughed. His arm jerked uncomfortably to the side. “I don’t understand.”

“You harness a weapon, correct? Why not a person?” She stepped forward until she was near enough to touch. “Our first attempts were sloppy. Scientific waste. But with Avery, I’ve got my first living, breathing weapon. She brought me you. She’s proven my success.”

Cassius grit his teeth. “Mind control? You’re telling her what to do?”

“Harnessing.” She grabbed his chin and pulled his head up, forcing him to look at her. “The vocabulary is very important to me. She can still process ideas on her own, but it’s within a framework of my design. As long as the apparatus remains under her skin, I own her instincts.”

“You and your microchips,” he muttered.

She pulled away from him. His head slumped to his chest before he could get control of his muscles again. “It’s a simple process—a slim device inserted at the back of the neck, connected to a similar device of my own … ”

“You’ve already gotten to me, haven’t you?”

“The cocktail Avery injected into your system enabled installation of the device. You can’t feel it, but it’s there. Your synapses are ready for reassignment. You’re mine again.” She crossed her arms and appraised him. “I’m sorry it had to come to this.”

“You won’t get Fisher, you know. No matter what you do.”

“Oh Cassius. You never see the big picture.” A smile crept over her face. He didn’t understand how he could have mistaken if for love all those years. There was no warmth left in her.

Madame grabbed his arm, gently shaking his wrist in excitement. “I’ve already got your brother,” she said. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

It’s late. These are the hours that Alkine knows to watch for me. Every time I’ve tried to pull something, it’s been at night. They’ve taken to stationing guards throughout the hallways. Alkine says it’s in case the Unified Party comes knocking on our door, but he can’t fool me. Some of the guards are here for me. I know this because there was one stationed outside my door tonight.

Eva and I sit in the cockpit of a shuttle in the smallest and darkest of the Academy’s docking bays, waiting to take off.

“Do you think he’s coming?” Eva whispers. “Three more minutes. I say that’s all we give him.”

“He’ll be here,” I reply.

I have Skandar to thank for getting rid of the guard outside my door. Just after midnight, he came strolling by my dorm room and told the guy he’d seen me sneaking around the Level Five rec room. I pushed my ear against the door and listened as the guard questioned him. In the end, the guy insisted that Skandar lead him to the spot he’d seen me.