Black City (Black City #1)

Black City (Black City #1) Page 22

Loud voices sound outside the cell, and a second later, the steel door bangs open and a tall Darkling sweeps into the room, his face covered by a gilded mask.

Sigur!

The Darkling ambassador tears off the mask, revealing his furious face. Blackened claw marks scar his cheeks and cut across one of his huge orange eyes. His good eye flicks from my chained leg and bloodstained lips to the bag of Synth-O-Blood in the Emissary’s hand. He knows what’s been going on.

“Untie him immediately!” he orders.

“I don’t think so,” the Emissary says. “He’s a suspect in a murder—”

“There was no crime. A boy died of a drug overdose. It was foolish, but it wasn’t murder.”

“I’ll be the judge of that,” the Emissary replies. “And how dare you barge in here, making demands of me? Your diplomatic privileges do not give you the right to come into my place of business without prior arrangement.”

Sigur’s top lip curls, but he composes himself. He graciously bows, and the Emissary gives a satisfied smile.

“Emissary,” he says politely, though I can tell every word is a struggle, “there has been a misunderstanding. This boy is innocent. It would be a step toward reconciliation between our two species if you let him go.”

The Emissary narrows her eyes, clearly weighing up her options. If Sigur Marwick has personally come here to demand my release, he means business. Is it really worth risking another conflict between our species, over me?

“Let him go,” Emissary Buchanan finally says.

The guards bring in my clothes and unchain me. I dress hurriedly and follow Sigur through the maze of corridors to the entrance hall. The elevator doors ping open, and Natalie rushes into the hall.

“Ash! Martha told me you were in the cells. Thank His Mighty, you’re—” She notices Sigur and fear flashes across her face.

He sweeps past Natalie without a second glance. I want to hug her, tell her everything is okay, but I can’t in front of Sigur. I follow him outside. Fresh snow has carpeted the ground, and it glistens almost blue in the moonlight.

“Did they hurt you badly?” Sigur asks.

“I’ll live. How did you know I was here?”

“My lieutenant has been tracking you. She contacted me when she saw what happened,” he replies.

I knew someone was following me earlier!

He studies me for a moment.

“You look just like Annora,” he says quietly.

I inhale sharply at the mention of my mother’s name.

“Walk with me, Ash.”

Sigur stretches out his hand, beckoning me.

I hesitate. Snow silently falls in the space between us, and a million thoughts run through my head, mostly ways I want to kill him. This is the man who tore my family apart. Even so, I’m curious to know what he wants. Plus, he did just save your skin. I sigh and reluctantly go with him.

We walk through the city streets, and I tell him briefly about my arrest and interrogation.

“I don’t understand why she was so desperate to blame me for Chris’s death. Or why the Emissary felt obliged to interrogate me herself,” I say.

“The Emissary always has her motives, although why she wanted to blame you in particular is very worrying,” he says. “I am just glad you were not hurt. When my lieutenant told me what had happened, I feared the worst.”

“Why did you ask her to follow me?” I ask.

Sigur stops and turns to me. He hasn’t replaced his gold mask, so I can still see his face. His skin and hair are so white, he almost vanishes against the snow.

“You’re Annora’s son. Your safety is important to me.”

I don’t know what to make of that, so I carry on walking. We approach the town square, and Sigur stops beneath the three crosses, reminding me of the execution of Tom and Jana.

“Was the Darkling related to you?” I ask Sigur, remembering her name: Jana Marwick.

“My niece.”

I gape at him. “And you allowed them to do that to her?”

“She made her choices. It’s regrettable, but she knew the law. There’s nothing I could have done; she was clearly guilty of her crime.”

“You could’ve demanded they take her down. You could’ve ordered your guards to snatch her, you—”

“I cannot go breaking the law, not now that boundary negotiations have started with the Emissary. If there is even the slightest chance we can expand our territory, I have to take it. My people desperately need more space. We cannot stir up unnecessary trouble.” Sigur touches the wooden cross. His hand smokes and burns, but he doesn’t move it. “She understood.”

This is exactly why I hate him so much! If it had been Natalie up there, I would have done anything to save her. My heart trembles just thinking about her. Sigur glances curiously at me. Can he hear it?

Across the square from us, the ancient clock in the school’s tallest spire chimes a melancholy tune.

“I do not like having that school so close. It torments my guards,” Sigur says.

“Because they’re tempted to attack the students? I guess we must look pretty tasty,” I say.

Sigur shakes his head. “I have ordered them not to. The Legion guards must obey my word, or the word of my kin, like you. It is our law,” he says.

I raise a quizzical brow. “I’m not your kin.”

“You are, according to Darkling law. Annora is my Blood Mate; you are her son. That makes you my Blood Son. The bond between us is just as close as if you were born of my own flesh and blood.”

I give a noncommittal smile, not really sure how to feel about that. I already have a dad, but I have always wondered what it would be like to have a Darkling father, to have someone who understands me.

And while I should hate Sigur for splitting my family apart, he’s making that hard to do. If he hadn’t persuaded the Emissary to let me go, I’d be getting executed for Chris’s death for sure. He saved my life. Maybe I’ve misjudged him?

Sigur goes to the gates, and the Legion guards stand at attention.

“One moment,” he says to them, and turns to look at me with eyes like embers. “I hope you don’t mind my asking, but how is your mother these days?”

“Is that meant to be a joke?”

“A joke? No, I don’t think so, but I don’t quite understand human humor.”

Is he for real? Then it dawns on me. He doesn’t know.

“Mom’s got the Wrath,” I say.

Sigur sways, and the Legion guards rush forward, but I grab him first and help him to a nearby bench.

“I don’t understand. I thought that was why you banished her,” I say.

Sigur shakes his head.

“Then why?” I say.

Sigur struggles to speak, his voice choked with emotion. “We had a fight.”

“About what?”

“You.” The words are barely a whisper. “I wanted you to come and live with us. She said she couldn’t do that to your father—you were all he had left. So I made her choose. Him or me.” He turns his glistening orange eyes on me. “She picked your father.”

“So you banished her from the Legion?”

“I’m not proud of what I did.” He sighs. “When she didn’t get in touch with me these past weeks, I assumed she was still furious. I didn’t know.”

Mom chose us over Sigur? I run a hand through my hair. I’ve been wrong about her all this time. She does love me.

“How much longer does she have?” Sigur says.

“Not long.”

Sigur stares off into the distance, his face blank as he tries to digest it all. He stands up and walks a few paces away.

“Sigur?” I say, following him.

He sinks to his knees, his purple robe splaying across the snow, and lets out a low, lamenting howl. His song is one of pain and loss. Grief spills over me as I listen to him. I finally have to face the truth: Mom’s dying. The Legion guards watch us from the wall. The song isn’t picked up by the other Darklings; they understand it’s for us and us alone. When Sigur stops singing, he gets up and surprises me by gently placing his hands on either side of my face.

“I would like you to come to the Legion and visit your family.”

“What? Now?” I ask, dumbfounded.

Sigur lowers his hands and nods. “What is the human expression? There is no time like the present?”

I hesitate. I want to see inside the Legion so much, my insides ache with it, but my dad must be worried sick, wondering where I am. I look longingly at the Boundary Wall.

I sigh. “I need to go home. My dad’s probably having a total freak-out by now.”

“Then you will come tomorrow instead for our Armistice Day celebrations. Yes?” Sigur says.

I grin. “Wild horses couldn’t keep me away.”

The metal gates open, and he slips inside. The gates shut behind him. I touch the rough stone wall with my fingertips.

Tomorrow I’ll be on the other side.

20

NATALIE

��I CAN’T BELIEVE you did that to Ash! Since when did you start torturing people?” I say, following Mother into the laboratory.

Sebastian and Craven are already there, alongside several Sentry guards who stand watch outside the door with the silver marker above it. They’re new; I haven’t seen guards down here before. What’s Craven hiding in there that’s so important?

Mother narrows her cold blue eyes at me. “He’s not a person. He’s a soulless half-breed. Why do you care so much about him?”

“I don’t care about him,” I lie. “But he’s innocent. He didn’t kill Chris Thompson.”

“Well, it hardly matters whether he did or not. Sigur Marwick’s made sure of that,” Mother replies, her eyes burning with fury.

The mention of Sigur’s name reminds me of seeing him upstairs with Ash. What was Ash doing with the Darkling ambassador? Why didn’t he tell me they knew each other?

“How dare Sigur just waltz in here making demands? This is my house. If he wants to meet with me, he needs my permission first,” Mother says to no one in particular, on a rant.

“That Dark needs to learn his place,” Sebastian says to Mother. “We should revoke his diplomatic rights and ban him from leaving the Legion.”

Mother laughs bitterly. “Oh, I’d love to do that, but I have to at least pretend Sigur has some authority. Otherwise, the Darklings will stop following his orders. I’m relying on him to keep control over those nippers.”

“Don’t call them that,” I say, anger welling up inside me.

“Since when do you care what I call them?” Mother replies.

“Since when did you start thinking it was okay to torture innocent kids?” I say. “Seriously, what’s wrong with you, Mother?”

“Don’t you talk to me like this, young lady—”

“Or what?”

“I’ll have you punished.”

“For what? Pointing out it’s wrong to hurt people?” I say incredulously. “If that’s suddenly a crime, then go ahead, punish me.”

Mother slaps me across the face. My skin burns where she hit me, but I don’t react. I don’t want to give her the satisfaction.

“Sebastian, take my daughter out of here. I have work to do,” she snaps at him. “And make sure she doesn’t leave her room. She’s grounded.”

I open my mouth to protest, but then let it go. Let her ground me—I don’t care. Sebastian takes my arm and leads me back up the metal stairs. I peek over my shoulder at Mother as she talks to Craven.

“Open the door,” she says to him, indicating the cell with the silver marker over it.

“Emissary, are you sure—”

“Just get the operating table prepared,” she snaps.

“But it’s not ready,” he says meekly.

“I don’t care. We’re running out of time,” she replies.

I tug on Sebastian’s sleeve as we reach the platform overlooking the room.

“I want to see,” I whisper, curious to know what’s been hidden in that cell.

I can tell he’s interested too. We lean over the steel barrier to get a better look. The three guards cautiously enter the pitch-black cell. Something roars. There’s a struggle, then a loud wail, and one of the guards rushes out of the room, his face slashed to shreds. I clamp my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream.

Mother steps back as the remaining two guards emerge from the cell holding the struggling creature. They drag it to the operating table in the middle of the room and stand back. I gasp.

It’s a boy. More accurately, it’s a naked boy.

I shouldn’t look, but my eyes are glued to him. He’s the same age as me, short, with a tangled mane of chocolate-brown hair that surrounds his feline features. His skin is the color of honey, with brown spots like a leopard’s down his flank and legs. My eyes widen when a long spotted tail coils around his leg.

The guards pin the cat-boy down, and Craven quickly injects him. He thrashes and snaps at Craven with his saber teeth, his eyes glimmering gold. His movements gradually became sluggish, and his arms fall to his sides; he’s unconscious.

“Do it,” Mother orders.

Craven clamps open the boy’s mouth and jabs a syringe into the soft tissue behind one of his saber teeth. Honey-colored fluid fills the syringe.

“Neat,” Sebastian whispers. “It’s a Bastet. I’ve never seen a live one before.”

Craven extracts the needle and places it on the tray beside him.