Guardians (6 page)

“You'll be back tomorrow?” Esther had asked helplessly, and Michal nodded. Esther felt guilty about how much she depended on the other girl and wished there were something she could do to repay the favor. Yet unspoken between the girls was the understanding that Michal would be there every night, to help out while Aras was missing.

He was not really gone, of course. Yet for days now, Aras had been coming home so late that he was practically useless as a parent. Invariably, he was hazy and reeked of the bad-smelling papers he used to smoke on the road, on their way to Mundreel. Esther found it impossible to talk to him at such moments. He would ignore her, flopping down on a chair or on the ground itself. Within moments, he would be sound asleep.

And he was in this condition once again when he stumbled through the door.

“Evening,” he said. Pilot followed him, a little tangled in his lead.

“Keep your voice down.” Esther didn't mean to speak sharply, but she noticed that both children stirred at the noise.

“Sorry.”

On the road, Esther had made it clear to Aras how she felt about his smoking. She hated how the drug changed him into a different person, one who was foolish and apathetic at the same time. Now, with two little children to take care of, his smoking seemed worse than before, much worse. As he made his way to a chair, Esther smelled something else on him. She thought she caught a whiff of flowers: the bottled scent that some of the Insurgent girls used. Was that possible?

“I think you should know,” she faltered, “that I don't like this.”

“Like what?”

“What you're doing.”

“Better not think about it, then.” Aras slumped in his seat and turned away, his face in his hands.

“I'm talking to you.”

“Didn't think you was talking to Pilot.”

Esther bit her lip. He had not spoken to her like this since the very beginning, before they had grown to know and care for each other. But she refused to back down.

“Where do you go? How come you're never here?”

At this, Aras let out a loud and incredulous laugh. “Me? Where do I go?” He raised his voice, not caring that Esther was trying to shush him. “Where do
you
go? Where are you all day?”

His shouts awakened Sarah. In a second, she started to fuss, then whimper, then scream. Moments later, Kai awoke
and he, too, began to bellow.

Esther put a hand to her forehead. She was honestly perplexed; it hadn't occurred to her that Aras might be angry. Yet what he was saying was true: With a sudden pang of guilt, she realized she had forgotten all about his plan for them to move.

It was true that figuring out the glass system that would feed so many new people was taking far longer than she had thought. Yet what made Esther feel guilty wasn't so much the work she was doing: It was her sudden realization that she enjoyed it. She found herself thinking about the problems she faced even late at night; they were the first things she thought of in the morning, as well. She didn't want to go . . . at least not yet.

All of this flashed through her mind as Aras stood up and loomed above her, shouting over the screams of their children. “
How come you spend so much time with that boy?
”

“Gideon? We're working together. You know that—”

“Is that all? How come you spend all day alone with him?”

Esther was stunned by what Aras was implying. “I . . . I don't know what you're saying,” she stammered, flustered.

“Don't you?”

Esther was so appalled, she couldn't speak at first. “There's nothing between us. . . . How can you say that? He's like a brother. . . .”

But Aras was sneering at her now, with his eyebrows raised. “Maybe I ask his guards what you do all day. Bet they know a whole lot.”

Esther felt as if she had been slapped across the face. “If you don't trust me,” she shot back at last, “why don't you just leave?”

“Maybe I will!”

The children's voices were like a hammer to Esther's head. Still, she was shocked to see Aras actually turn toward the door, pulling Pilot with him.

“Aras—” she said. “I didn't mean that. Look, don't . . .”

But he didn't respond or even turn her way. Instead, he headed for the door, the dog following with what seemed deep reluctance. Esther grabbed his arm as he passed, but Aras yanked away.

After the door slammed, Esther stood alone in the room, trembling, amid the din of the children's cries. She was tempted to run after the boy; it was late, and he was in no condition to wander around by himself. Still, she was exhausted and sick of fighting, and she needed to get Kai and Sarah back to sleep.

Esther reached down into the crib and picked up the baby. Bouncing Sarah on her shoulder, she soothed her until her wails subsided. Then she sat down next to Kai and stroked him with a gentle, tickling touch, something he loved.

Within minutes, a blissful silence once more fell over the room.

In the darkness, Esther got into bed alone, but could not sleep. Tossing and turning, she stared at the ceiling, trying to remember something crucial she could not pin down. Only
when the night sky began to brighten did she finally realize what it was.

Aras's partnering tie had been missing from his wrist.

The following afternoon, Aras stood in the doorway of the room he shared with Esther. In stark contrast to the night before, his home was now deserted and silent.

Although he was not expecting anyone to be home, Aras still felt odd that Esther wasn't still there, waiting for him. He couldn't blame her. After their fight, he had stormed downstairs and out into the nighttime streets of Mundreel. At the time, he was so angry he had sworn he was leaving for good.

But hours later, Aras found himself waking up in an unfamiliar storefront that he didn't even remember entering. It was already late morning: Hot sun poured in through a broken window as Pilot licked his face and whimpered. The boy needed several moments to piece together what had happened the night before, and when he remembered his angry words, he winced, wishing he could take them back.

With Pilot leading, Aras had no trouble making it home to the District. As always, the dog knew where to go and in fact seemed eager to return home. The boy was happy to let him lead; his head was pounding and his throat was so dry, it hurt.

Now, as he stood in their room, Pilot lapping noisily from his bowl in the corner, Aras realized that he couldn't continue like this. He had to stop smoking again, and this time, for
good. His children depended on him too much. And although he always found it difficult to express himself, Aras also knew he needed to get past that. He had to be frank with Esther; he had to talk to her.

They were partners, after all.

That was when Aras realized that his partnering tie was missing. He checked his wrist and the length of his arm quickly and then slowly and methodically. Although he had little memory of the evening before, he couldn't believe that the tightly knotted band could have fallen from his wrist without his notice. Yet there was no mistake: The frayed cloth band had somehow vanished.

Full of shame, Aras shook his head; it was yet another sign he had let things go too far.
He would make it up to Esther,
he thought. He knew she was working; he would have to wait to speak with her until that evening.

On an impulse, he crossed to the box where they stored their clothes. He sorted through the contents by touch, finally identifying the thing he was looking for. It was the shirt Esther had given him months ago, her first gift after they had partnered: soft, with buttons that went halfway down the front. As Aras exchanged it for what he was wearing, he smiled. He remembered that she had told him he looked handsome in it and that the vivid blue looked good against his dark skin.

Putting it on wasn't much, he knew: It was just a gesture, a simple way of saying he was sorry. Aras meant to do more to make things up to Esther: a lot more. He was putting the box away when he felt Pilot get to his feet behind him.

Turning around, Aras didn't understand why the dog didn't growl, nor why he felt a flicker of dread. Then he realized what had caused it.

He could smell the scent of fake flowers.

Nur had never been this far upstairs before.

She was taking a risk, for she knew it was critical that no one discover her connection to Aras. Yet the blind boy hadn't shown up to meet her that morning in their usual smoking place. When she'd told Gideon, he had grown angry.
It was taking too long,
he said; it was time to deal with the problem another way. She had begged him to be patient. After all, several times she and Aras had touched and even almost kissed. But on each occasion, the boy had pulled away.

All she needed, she promised Gideon, was one more chance. Then Aras would leave Esther for good.

Nur wasn't speaking out of pride alone. The idea of seducing the blind one had been hers, the easiest way she could think of to destroy Esther and ensure Gideon's lasting gratitude. Yet now she was surprised to find that she had developed a kind of affection for Aras. Then again, it would have been impossible for her not to like the boy at least a little, having spent so much time with him smoking, talking, and opening up. She wasn't exactly sure what Gideon had in mind for him were she to fail, but she sensed it wouldn't be pleasant. For Aras's welfare, then, Nur thought it was worth making a final attempt.

What's more, Nur had a flicker of curiosity to see how he and Esther, the leader of the District, lived.

Yet now she was here, she was disappointed to see how unimpressive the room was: just another drab office with bedding on the floor and various belongings stacked neatly by the window. On the far side, Aras stood with his back to her, as if deep in thought; he didn't seem to realize she was there. Then, with surprising speed, he turned and strode toward her.

“What are you doing here?”

After a pause, Nur answered, trying to sound light and carefree.

“You didn't come. I wonder where you are.” She paused again. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.”

“Because I hate if you . . . mad at me.”

“Never said I was.”

Now she was by his side. “I save some,” she whispered, “for you.” She tried to force a smoking paper into his hand.

Aras pulled away and shook his head. “Let's forget it,” he said. “I been doing too much of it, anyway.”

He stepped forward, as if to escort her out. Thinking quickly, Nur touched his forearm to stop him. She had to stand on her tiptoes, for he was so tall. Balancing herself against him, she reached up and kissed his cheek.

Aras started, yet didn't move. “Better not,” he said in a rough voice. “I told you that before.”

“But why?” Her voice was as soft and pleading as she knew how to make it; she had never known a boy to turn away. “You know I like you. Don't you like me?”

She took a chance. Taking him by the shoulders, the girl
leaned forward again and, straining to reach, tried to kiss him on the mouth. She got no help from Aras, who turned his head, his arms by his side.

“I said don't do that!”

A flare of anger spread through Nur.

She was not accustomed to being rejected or to being addressed with such hostility; such a thing had never happened to her before. It suddenly dawned on her that Aras was attempting to end the situation—not just the smoking, but their friendship as well.

That possibility hadn't crossed her mind.

Her cheeks now flushed with humiliation, Nur drew herself up with as much dignity as she could muster.
Not,
she thought with unexpected viciousness,
that Aras could have even seen what she was doing
.

Without another word, she turned and fled down the hall.

He had his chance
, Nur thought. Yet she was surprised to find tears stinging her eyes and splattering down onto her robes as she yanked open the heavy metal door. With a brusque gesture, she rubbed them away.

She had done what she could. Now it was no fault of hers what would happen
.

Nur wasn't surprised to find someone waiting for her in the darkness of the stairwell, his upturned face a question in the spill of light. Gideon had obviously sent backup to deal with Aras, in case her efforts failed . . . which they had.

“He all yours.” Nur nearly spat out the words. “I done with him.”

Then she turned and clattered down the stairs.

As Eli stepped out into the hall, he left the door propped open. A tremor shook his body, beginning with his hands and passing through his torso.

He hadn't realized how nervous he would be. Although he knew Esther and the others were upstairs on the roof, he felt much too visible, exposed by the bright afternoon sun. To counter his anxiety, he forced himself to recall how much he despised Aras: for his superiority and arrogance, and most of all for stealing Esther away. But no matter how hard he tried to stoke his righteous anger, his hatred wavered and then faded altogether.

He found it much easier to think about Gideon and how badly the boy wanted this.

The Insurgent leader had promised much to Eli for this favor. He would guarantee him not only extra rations, but something even more precious: his gratitude and lasting respect. Gideon had made it clear that if Eli was successful in carrying out this task, he would be in his debt: an unbelievable prospect that still made Eli giddy with happiness.

Now everything seemed to be heading inexorably to this end. Eli didn't think he could stop it if he tried.

As Eli moved down the hall, checking each door, his footsteps were muffled by the deep beige carpeting underfoot. Still, a jangling sound revealed that someone had heard him.

Pilot stood motionless by an open door at the end of the hall, his ears cocked.

“Who's there?”

As Aras appeared behind his dog, Eli froze in place. For a guilty instant, an impossible thought flashed across his mind: The blind boy could see him. Then he shook off the feeling as he began to move down the hall, his sweaty hand gripping the handle of the metal stick with the heavy wooden club. To his relief, the dog seemed to have recognized him, as Gideon assured him he would; although he continued to watch him, he made no threatening move.