Lotus and Thorn (27 page)

RIYA FROZE,
chopsticks halfway to her mouth. Oksun put her spoon down. I had their full attention.

I started with Lotus and the Indignos’ theory that the Curadores were infecting people as a form of population control. “When Jenner showed me the Genetics Lab, it was clear the Curadores had that kind of technology, but I still had no clue
how
they might be doing it.
Or
how to stop it. Then Oksun told me about the missing Kisaengs and I did some more digging.”

I wondered if I’d have to explain about Nik, but apparently it was common knowledge that Edison had a brother living in the Gardens. The forest might be officially off-limits, but that simply made it an irresistible place to sneak off to for a rendezvous. So I told them about my visit and the files Nik had showed me. About the Kisaengs’ harvested ova and Olivia’s infected status. I hesitated when I got to the part about Oksun’s own pending status, but now seemed like the time for complete honesty.

Oksun took it in stride, like it didn’t surprise her—and maybe it didn’t. Though I wouldn’t expect anything less from her. Finally, I
got to the part with Tasch and finding the isolation rooms hidden behind the LOTUS door.

I watched my own emotions play out across their faces as I described it. Suspicion. Horror. And in the end, outrage. Talking about the underground ward made its existence more awful and more bearable at the same time—at least I was no longer alone in this.

“But wasn’t Taschen dead?” Riya said, trying to understand.

“Lotus thought so, but obviously not,” I said.

“Do you think Edison’s trying to find a cure for Red Death? Using Citizens and Kisaengs as test subjects?” Oksun asked.

“Maybe. But here’s the thing . . . the Curadores don’t simply need a cure for Red Death.” My brain had been mulling this over for hours. I thought back to what Edison and Jenner had told me that first morning while the flys tested my blood. “They’ve been isolated for too long . . . they have no resistance to anything outside the Dome. Jenner as much as said they weren’t even bothering with Red Death anymore. Instead Jenner’s been trying to build some kind of uber-Curador who’ll be smart enough to fix the Dome.”

“So what the hell’s happening down there, then?” Oksun asked.

“Well, Nik told me that he and Edison gave up trying to fix things and were looking for ways to escape them instead. So the only answer I can come up with is that Edison is trying to create an uber-Curador as well. One that has all the right genes to make him immune to . . . well . . . everything.”

“Is that even possible?” Riya twisted a bracelet made out of tiny plastic animals as she talked.

“I have no idea,” I said.

“We’re still sidestepping a huge issue here.
If
Edison is infecting the Citizens and
if
he is killing them off . . .” Oksun jabbed her spoon in the air for emphasis. “How is he also experimenting on them?”

I shook my head. “Lotus said that Taschen’s symptoms had been strange. Like Red Death, but not. It’s what made them so suspicious about the outbreak in the first place. That’s gotta have something to do with it.”

“Well, if I’m ‘pending’ I’m not about to wait around to learn the details firsthand,” Oksun said.

“Agreed,” Riya said, nodding. Then they both turned to me. “So. What’s the plan?”

• • •

That afternoon, I could barely make myself step inside my bedroom. I’d been fine in the bright open of the Sanctum, conjuring up plans and strategies. But in here, the brutality of last night was still hanging in the air. Waiting for me.

I threw open the doors of the front and back balconies, trying to purge the place while I started putting the room back together. Untangling blankets. Righting chairs. Sweeping ash back into the fireplace.

Something glinted in the grate. I knelt down, groaning as pain shot through my hip, and I dug through the soot.

It was a long, fringed filament. One of Grimm’s feathers. I pulled it out, feeling through the soft ash. Grimm’s body had burned and the thing that had been his brain had melted, but an array of thin metal wing feathers remained. I collected them all and took them out to the porch to brush them off.

A movement in the woods caught my eye. Nik was standing there—just inside the tree line. Barely even bothering to stay
hidden. Did he know what Edison had done to me? My heart clutched in my chest. Did he know that Grimm was dead?

I held up a hand for him to stay put. Then, tucking all but one of the feathers in the bottom drawer of my dresser—where I’d stashed the book of fairy tales, Lotus’s necklace, and the scope—I went down to face him.

The first thing he said when he saw me was “Thank God.” Immediately followed by “I’m going to kill him.”

And he meant it. Nik’s eyes flashed and it was disturbing to see the same buried rage there that’d exploded from Edison. I took a step back, reminding myself that they didn’t just
look
alike. They were essentially the same person.
Clones.

“No. There’s been enough death.” And gently, I handed him Grimm’s feather.

Nik’s head bowed as his ran his thumb across the feather, wiping soot from the silvery filament. But before his dreadlocks shrouded his face, I’d seen the tears there. And I knew I was wrong. Edison and Nik may have started out the same, but life had forged them into very different people.

“I’m sorry.” I pulled Nik deeper into the trees so there was no chance of us being seen together.

“He can’t do this and get away with it.” Nik glared at me. At the world.

“He won’t. But things are going to get worse before they get better. If you want to help me get retribution, then I need to trust you. And I can’t do that until you answer some questions.”

“Okay.” Nik held himself impossibly still—like he was afraid if he made the wrong move, I might send him away.

“Yesterday, you told me about the laboratories down in the tunnels
where you and Edison made Grimm.” Nik nodded again, and I went on. “Did you know he was still doing experiments down there?”

Nik looked like he was summoning his courage. “I suspected. And yesterday, when I saw the files on the Kisaengs, I was afraid he might be using the place again.”

“I found more than just Kisaengs down there.” I kept my voice neutral, my eyes on his face. I couldn’t help but hear Edison’s warning about Nik in my mind.
A bad copy of me. Twisted.

But there was real fear in Nik’s eyes. The yellow flecks burning bright. “Please . . . you have to tell me what he’s done.”

I was convinced Nik had no idea about the captive Citizens, but there was still a shadow in Nik’s eyes—something he was holding back. For the second time that day, I relived the nightmare. Telling him about finding Taschen in the spiderweb of tubes and wires.

“Oh God.” Nik’s whole body shook, but he wasn’t crying. It was more like the grief was quaking through him. And suddenly I wished I could hold him. Wished I could hold his pain for him.

“This is my fault. This is
all my fault
. Edison’s experiments . . .” He touched the blackened feather in his hand. “Grimm. Even you.”

He put his hand against my swollen cheek, barely brushing my skin with his fingertips—as if it hurt him to touch me. “This is why I stay in there!”

“
Edison
infected the Citizens.
Edison
killed Grimm and attacked me. This is not
your
fault.” And I leaned into his hand where it cradled my cheek, turning my face to kiss his palm.

He jerked away like I’d burned him. Stepping back. “You don’t know! You don’t know me.”

“Nik!”

But Nik was gone. Fleeing back into his trees. Leaving me alone.

SLEEP DIDN’T COME
that night. I held my knife close as I lay unblinking on the bed. Then on a blanket on the floor. Then the chair downstairs. Every noise, every imagined shadow held me hostage. And of all the things Edison had done to me, that was what I resented most.

That he’d made me afraid.

Dawn finally came, bringing the relief of light. I stumbled back upstairs and drew a bath—slipping down into the warm weight of it. Letting myself sink below the surface until the whole world was muffled and far away. But the comfort was short-lived. As I got out of the tub, I pulled the towel tight around me, careful to hide my battered body from the mirrors. But I couldn’t cover my face.

Swollen and grotesque, my lip bulged out. A cut ran across my cheek. A bruise was purpling just under my eye.

Edison had done this to me. This man who’d saved me in the flood in Tierra Muerta. This person who I’d let touch me. Who I’d touched in return. Who I’d told my most important stories to. He had turned and done
this
to me.

And what about me? What had I done? I’d
known
something
was wrong inside the Dome, I’d known that Edison had lied and kept secrets and still I let him distract me with his radio and his smile.

No.
I would not let Edison win. I would not hate
myself
for the things he had done.

I made myself think about Tasch, waiting for me to come back for her. About all those Citizens lying in the LOTUS ward under the ground. About the missing Kisaengs, stolen before they’d barely had a chance to live.

Anger seared through me, cauterizing the shame. I curled my six-fingered hands into fists. Dad had taught me long ago:
Shame is like putting a weapon in your enemy’s hand and asking them to beat you with it.

I would not give Edison any more weapons to use against me.

IN THE SANCTUM,
we stepped up to training with fighting sticks. A few at a time, the Kisaengs scoured the Salvage Hall for old chair legs, metal rods, anything that would work. We shared them out until they’d gathered enough weapons for everyone—working with sticks early in the morning when Curadores were least likely to wander by. Luckily, no one paid much attention to how Kisaengs passed the time.

Within the walls of the Sanctum, though, I didn’t need to give an explanation for the added intensity or the added stealth. As far as the Kisaengs were concerned, my bruises were reason enough. There would come a time when I had to tell them the whole terrible story, but first I wanted them to have the tools to do something about it.

Once June had weapons in her hands, she was a natural. Her arms were already incredibly powerful—since she used them for, well,
everything
—and her board allowed her to be unpredictable.

After she knocked three girls off their feet, I stepped up. “Okay, then. Let’s see what you got.”

June gave me an evil grin that didn’t quite match her glamorous appearance. She tucked her skirts into the straps that kept her secured to her board and said, “Let’s go!”

We circled around each other, and I saw her immediate advantage. While I had to watch the uneven ground, June glided seamlessly. Trying to get a feel for her, I made my first move—swinging out with my right stick. She instantly dropped half a meter, letting the blow breeze right over her head.

“Oh, you think you’re clever!” I grinned. I hadn’t had a challenge like this since sparring with Jaesun and it felt good to think on my feet.

“No. I
know
I’m clever.” She was floating at waist height now and I jabbed down at her. Her board swung sideways, and she landed a blow in my ribs.

June laughed, a deep hoot of pleasure. And I wondered if her usual calm softness was simply her own version of armor against the world.

We continued to circle around each other dizzyingly. I jabbed here and there, only occasionally making contact. But June was relentless, her board zipping everywhere, driving me backward. Tension pulled tight around us, like the excitement of the Festival ring. And though I didn’t take my eyes off June, I knew everyone was watching us. They couldn’t help it.

June was faster, but I had years of training and it didn’t take me long to learn her tricks. I lunged forward with my left stick, and like I expected, June dodged to the right. I let my weight carry me as I spun my left foot up, landing the full force of my kick right in her stomach.

Her board flew backward, flipping over, and her straps came loose. I cringed as June was thrown off the board, her body hitting the ground with a thud. It was awful.

“June! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” I dropped my sticks and rushed over to her.

But to my astonishment, she was almost as quick across the ground—moving on her hands. Before I could even change my momentum, June was back on her board, sticks in hand, flying toward me in a retaliatory attack. A keening war cry flooded from her.

Surprised and weaponless, I stumbled backward. But the ground was nowhere to be found. Flailing midair, I landed unceremoniously with an enormous splash in the creek.

A huge cheer went up from the watching Kisaengs.

“Surrender!” June cried, hovering above the water, grinning down at me. And sitting in the stream, sopping wet, I grinned too. Maybe the Kisaengs
could
be a force to be reckoned with.

• • •

Oksun was suspicious of the accelerated training regime. “It looks like you’re training an army. You’ve come up with a plan, haven’t you? Just when exactly are you going to share with the other children?” She was smiling, but it was clear she didn’t appreciate being kept in the dark.

“All I know for sure is . . . whatever happens, it’ll come down to what it always does. A fight,” I said. “And to win that fight, we’re going to need more than the Kisaengs.”

The group I was training had swollen from the original dozen to a consistent sixty or so. And with the new lessons, the atmosphere in the Sanctum had changed overnight. Marisol and her sisters no longer judged who should be able to keep what from
the Salvage Hall. At dinner, Marisol’s disapproval no longer kept Curadores from seeking out certain Kisaengs. Marisol was back at Edison’s side—who thankfully had been keeping his distance—but she didn’t try to wield her power. At least not publicly. She had lost the support of the Kisaengs.

Now I looked around us, at the sparring women filling the courtyard with the clack of fighting sticks and staccato shouts. It had been less than a week since we’d stepped up training, but the Kisaengs had already been strong, and they were getting stronger. They were eager students, but I had to admit that wouldn’t be enough.

Still, Oksun was right—my sleepless nights had resulted in one benefit. I did have a plan. Or at least the seed of one.

“Do the Curadores ever celebrate any of the Pleiades’ festivals? Any loud, boisterous ones?” I asked.

Oksun understood instantly what I was getting at. “Folks distracted on both sides of the glass? Something noisy enough to cover up an invasion, maybe?” She tucked her hair behind both ears and made what I’d started to think of as her “calculating face.” “The Kisaengs don’t celebrate the traditional holidays, but maybe it’s time to get back to our roots. Would Dia de los Muertos give us enough time?”

There were less than two weeks before the celebration of the dead. “It’s not a lot of time to prepare, but it’d be perfect. Masks. Bonfires. Fireworks!”

“Did you know that a few of the girls are familiar with explosives?” Oksun raised an eyebrow. “Used to be blasters out in the Reclamation Fields. Me too, actually.”

“That I
did not
know.” And just like that, the seeds took root.

• • •

After almost a week of barely sleeping, I was delirious and desperate. Every day had been the same. During the day I was myself, strong and powerful. But at night, fear would creep in to sit beside my bed, holding my hand. Riya had said not to make room for fear, but I didn’t know how to make it leave. That night, I walked into the trees—the only place I’d ever felt safe inside the Dome.

I hadn’t gotten so much as a glimpse of Nik—not since he’d run—and I worried I wouldn’t be welcome. Even so, as I entered the shelter of the branches, something loosened in me. The rich smell of moss and green coaxed a sigh from my strangled lungs. And deep in the night, I crept into Nik’s garden and collapsed next to the little waterfall that sang of comfort in the dark.

• • •

I woke with a blanket lying heavy across me and the sun bright in the sky. And a few meters away—weeding the garden—was Nik.

“Sorry. Was I being too loud?” He dusted off his hands on his pants and came over. “I didn’t want you to wake up alone . . . in case you forgot where you were.”

He seemed reserved, almost shy. As if we didn’t know each other. And maybe Nik had been right about that—maybe we didn’t.

Nik’s outburst in the forest still hung in the air between us. Feeling awkward, I stood up and folded the soft blue cover. “Thank you for the blanket. I didn’t mean to . . . I just . . . I haven’t been sleeping.”

“No! I’m glad you came.” Nik waved the blanket away, leaving me hugging it. “Sit down. Let me get you something.”

I climbed up on a boulder near the waterfall and took a deep breath, trying to let the burble of the stream calm my jitters. Nik
came back a few minutes later, carrying coffee and croissants. As he handed them to me, he said, “I really am glad you came.” And his eyes had genuine relief in them. “I’m glad you feel safe here.”

He took a seat next to me on the rock and we sipped our coffee together. The silence was still full of unsaid words, but it was no longer awkward. Our hands lay almost touching on the stone, just centimeters apart. They were so different: his vast and callused, mine small and strange. But I liked the way they looked together, his purpley-black skin against my light brown. They looked right. The only thing ruining it was the scabs on my knuckles from Grimm’s talons. A painful reminder of him.

Then Nik tore off a piece of croissant and I noticed something. I grabbed Nik’s hand, turning it over in my own.

“What?” Alarm tinged Nik’s voice. But I didn’t answer.

Nik’s palm was unblemished. His calluses were still there, but there were no scabs or scratches from the broken glass. No blood. Not even any scars. I checked his other one, in case I’d gotten them confused. It’d been barely a week since he’d cut his hand. Same as me.

“Must be nice to heal so fast,” I said, showing him my own scabbed knuckles. “I suppose that’s a perk of being genetically engineered?”

Nik looked perplexed for a second, flexing his hand. Then he checked it too, as if expecting to find traces of the wound. “Hmm . . . that’s new. I wonder—”

The buzz of flys cut across his words. Instinctively, I scrambled off the boulder, crouching as a huge swarm flew over the clearing.

“Did they see me?” I asked when the noise died away. Clearly, without my permission, fear had still made a home inside me.

“Probably not.” There was sadness in Nik’s eyes as he helped me out of my hiding spot—like it hurt him to see me cower. “Even if they did, I doubt anyone was paying attention to their visual feed.”

But I could see Nik’s own fears about my safety making him second-guess his answer.

I returned to my place on the rock, but the calm had evaporated. My thoughts came back to the same problem I’d been turning over in my mind for days. “How good of an eye
do
the flys keep on things inside the Dome?”

“Well, they’re not like Grimm.” And Nik’s forehead creased as he remembered Grimm was dead. “They can’t see much in the dark. And Ada and the Mothers have been systematically interrupting their video signals for a while now. Fuzzing what the Curadores can see and hear with static so the Mothers have some semblance of privacy and freedom. Edison and the others think it’s simply a result of the flys breaking down . . . and a lot of it is . . . but Ada’s definitely helping the process along.” Nik paused. “I guess what I’m saying is . . . it depends.”

Then he went quiet. I took a sip of coffee, filling the pause, but I could feel Nik’s eyes on me. “You’ve come up with a plan, then?” he said. “To save your sister?”

I nodded, but I wondered how much to say. Nik might not love what Edison or the Curadores had done, but that didn’t mean he wanted to be an active participant in the destruction of his own home.

“Well, I’d like to get back out to Pleiades through the tunnel I found. If we were only trying to save Tasch, we could do it from inside the Dome, no problem. But if we want to save everyone, then . . .”

“You’ll need outside help,” Nik finished.

“Oksun mentioned Dia de los Muertos, and it seems like too good of an opportunity to pass up.” I kept my voice purposely light, tearing off a bit of croissant and popping it in my mouth.

“What kind of opportunity?” Nik’s voice was cautious.

I kept my answer vague. I wasn’t ready to risk Nik knowing the extent of our plan. And until I talked to Sarika, nothing was certain. “An opportunity for the Citizens to get our people and our power back.”

“Well, if you’re going out there again, we should talk to Ada. She’s the expert at getting around this place unnoticed.”

“But Ada hates me. I heard the two of you fighting.”

“No. Ada hates
Edison
. She didn’t trust you because you were his Kisaeng. Your circumstances are different now. She’ll help.”

“How do you know?”

“’Cause I’ve known Ada for a long time . . . pretty much forever.”

“I thought you and Edison were mostly alone growing up.”

“When we were younger, we got sent back to the Complex for a few weeks at a time . . . to ‘socialize’ us. Most of the other kids stayed away. But Ada was fascinated by us. She loves all things gadgety and when she found out about Grimm, she helped us with his control systems. Edison and I were great at creating artificial muscles or lightweight wings, after all we’d been basically
raised
in a biotech lab, but Grimm’s electronic hardware was a mess. Luckily, Ada’s genius with that sort of thing . . . taught us a ton.”

“The three of you were friends?” After the venom in her voice, it was hard to imagine. “Then why does she hate Edison so much?”

Nik didn’t answer. He put down his coffee and turned to face
me on the boulder. “Listen, I have to tell you something. All I ask is that you stay and hear me out. Then you can decide if you still want me to be part of this.”

His tone made me nervous and I wrapped my hands around my coffee cup as if it could give me strength.

“I didn’t know Edison was experimenting on your people, but I wasn’t surprised . . . because I experimented on them first.”

“What?” I stood up fast, my coffee cup smashing on the rocky ground.

“I was trying to help. Jenner had stopped trying to treat Red Death years ago and, intellectually, we
knew
Citizens were still dying from it. But when we sent Grimm out to Pleiades, we
saw
it. I’d spent my whole life hearing about Red Death, knowing it was why we were trapped inside the Dome, but seeing it . . . it was horrible.

“I thought if we could just get near enough . . . if we could study the disease up close, then maybe we could find a cure for it. So I talked Edison into sneaking out with me in one of the magflys. We put on isolation suits, went into Pleiades, and collected one of the bodies for cremation. But instead of burning it, we took it to our lab to study.”

“You stole a body?” And I was horrified, imagining the body left unburned, its soul locked away inside its bones. Nik and Edison slicing open the decaying flesh.

“Yes. But its systems were already deteriorating . . . too badly damaged to teach us anything. We tried again, this time taking someone from quarantine who was alive but unconscious . . . the disease advanced enough for our deception.

“Then we had the reprocessors replicate the equipment from
Jenner’s isolation rooms, the ones he used with incoming Kisaengs, and hooked the patient up to it. The Citizen was already near death, and I told myself that we were merely prolonging his life. I became obsessed, chronicling the symptoms through Grimm’s observations in Pleiades, then studying them in the actual Citizen. And I studied the DNA of Red Death, discovering that the reason it was so deadly, the reason we couldn’t find a cure, is that it’s a hybrid. A mutant like Edison and me.”