Black City (28 page)

“So, Fisher,” Sebastian says coolly, “are you excited about your first hunt as a Tracker later this week?”

Ash’s fist clenches.

“Don’t taunt him,” I snap at Sebastian.

I can’t believe we have to go on a hunt. With everything that’s been going on, I’d forgotten all about it. How can I hunt Darklings now that I’m in a relationship with one of them? I can’t image how Ash is feeling about it.

Ash stares at the fire, acting like I don’t exist. His skin takes on a warm blush from the flames, making him appear almost human. Part of me wishes he were human; everything would be so much simpler. We could hold hands in public, we could kiss, we could be together—
really
together, like a regular couple.
But then he wouldn’t be Ash.

“When did you convert to the Purity?” Day asks Sebastian, warily eyeing his shaved head.

“A few days ago. I had a moment of enlightenment,” he explains, turning his gaze toward Ash. “Purian Rose showed me the error of my ways. I’ve been far too lenient on the Darklings. If I don’t clamp down on the nipper threat, then before you know it, they’ll be roaming the streets, attacking people and fragging our women.”

My heart beats rapidly. Ash’s mouth twitches.

“Of course,
you’d
never do that, would you, Fisher? Fragg a human girl, I mean?” Sebastian says.

“Seb, that’s enough!” I say.

He gives me a malicious smile. “Sorry, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that,” I retort.

“Why not? You loved it when we were together,” he says.

“Don’t push it, Sebastian. Remember who you’re talking to. I’m your
boss,
not your girlfriend,” I say.

Sebastian’s green eyes darken with anger. “Yes, ma’am. My apologies.”

Ash digs his hands deep into his pockets and walks down the pathway leading around to the back of the mansion. Gregory watches him leave.

I need an excuse to follow Ash.

“I’m going to the restroom. Stay here,” I tell Sebastian, getting a small pleasure out of ordering him around.

“You’re not going into that house. The structure isn’t stable,” he says.

“Where else do you suggest I go? In the bushes?” I reply angrily.

He grabs my wrist.

“Lay one more finger on me and I’ll have you fired,” I say.

He lets me go, muttering curses under his breath.

I follow Ash, hoping none of the other kids will risk coming into the house after me. Chunks of plaster fall from the ceiling with my every footstep as I cautiously navigate the loose floorboards. I find Ash in the kitchen, running a finger through the thick dust on the countertop.

“I told Sebastian not to come. He wouldn’t listen.”

“You told me he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

“He isn’t! We broke up months ago.” I bite my lip. “Are you mad at me?”

“No.” He walks out of the kitchen and heads into the study across the hallway.

I chase after him. “You’re acting like you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then why wouldn’t you look at me earlier?”

Ash slams a hand against the wall, making a painting clatter to the ground. I flinch.

He turns his glistening eyes on me. “He smells like you.”

I gasp. “What?”

“Your scent is all over him.”

“He was on my bed earlier.”

I instantly regret saying that when Ash grimaces.

“He’s just a friend. Actually, he’s not even that. He works for me.”

There are two overturned chairs on the floor, and Ash picks one up and sits down. The scene brings flashes of memories back, images I’ve spent all year trying to forget.

“It’s not fair. He gets to be on your bed. He gets to be with you in public, and I have to act like we barely know each other. I hate the fact I can’t even look at you, in case someone realizes how I feel about you,” Ash says.

“Sebastian’s getting suspicious,” I say.

Ash runs a hand through his hair. “Are you sure?”

“He doesn’t have any proof, even if he does suspect something. It’s not illegal to talk to you, and that’s all he’s seen us doing,” I say.

Ash nods, then smiles faintly at me. “Did you find out anything about the Golden Haze?”

“No. How about you?”

“Evangeline’s given it to their alchemists.” He rubs his neck. “Look, I’m sorry I left with her earlier, but you understood, right? She’s the only twin-blood I’ve ever met; I just wanted to spend some time with her.”

Jealousy rages inside me, but I force a smile. “It’s fine. You must be curious about her. It’s only natural.”

He looks down at his feet, and I swear his cheeks flush for a second. No, I’m letting my imagination get away with me. Ash cares for me. I’m his Blood Mate, after all. He gets up and retrieves the fallen painting from the floor. His eyes widen. He twists the painting toward me, and my parents’ faces smile back.

“I grew up here,” I say. “I lived here until my father was killed, just before the air raids last year. We were evacuated to Centrum shortly after the raids started; this is the first time I’ve been back since his death.”

Ash leans the painting against the wall and takes in our surroundings. The study is vast, with wooden floors and dark green walls, both covered in dust and ash. A broken grandfather clock is by the door. On the clock face are twelve birds, representing the hours of the day. Time in my house was measured in birdsong.

Ash’s black hair stirs as he walks around the room. He looks at me, startled.

“It’s everywhere.” He swipes a hand across the wall, removing a layer of dust to reveal a dark splash of dried blood.

I look away.

“What happened?” he asks.

The events of that night rush back to me, and I shut my eyes.

* * *

I wake to the sound of a nightingale singing. Eleven o’clock. Father’s angry, urgent voice rings up through the floorboards. Who’s he talking to so late at night? I sneak into Polly’s room and find she’s already awake. We tiptoe downstairs. Mother’s hovering by the study door, her hair loose around her shoulders, talking quickly to a man hidden in shadows. Something stirs by his feet, and the smell of rotting flesh stings my nose.

Mother catches sight of us, and fear flashes across her face.

“Go upstairs!” she exclaims.

“No. Bring them in here,” a soft, effete voice orders.

“No, don’t!” Father yells from the study. “Run, girls! RUN!”

Polly starts to run, but I stay rooted to the ground, terrified for myself, scared for my father. I need to make sure he’s all right.

“Come on!” Polly urges.

An adrenaline spike forces me into action. I rush into the study, and Polly follows. What I see makes me gasp. Father’s tied down to a chair, beaten and bloodied. He stares at me, wide eyed.

“Father, what’s going on?” I say.

“Go! Go!” he yells.

A snarl draws my attention toward the man in the shadows. By his feet is a Wrath, its yellowed eyes boring into mine, its fangs dripping with venom. I scream and fall back into Polly’s arms. The Wrath puts the Sight on me, intending to eat me. It hungrily sniffs me, checking my scent to see what sort of food I am. It cocks its head, then backs away, disinterested.

“I think, Jonathan, you’re not being totally forthcoming with me. Perhaps you need a little more persuasion?” the man says. I instantly recognize his refined, light voice. Purian Rose.

He raises a white-gloved hand and gestures toward the guards standing in the corner of the room—I hadn’t even noticed them. They spring on me and Polly and stand us beside Father.

Purian Rose’s wolfish eyes glower at us from the dark. “So which girl should it be?” He looks at my mother. “Emissary, why don’t you choose?”

I kick and struggle against my captor as Mother looks between me and Polly.

“Don’t make me choose. Don’t . . . I can’t,” she says.

“Choose, or they both die,” Purian Rose orders.

“Polly! Take Polly!” Mother says hurriedly, rushing over to me and pulling me into her arms . . .

* * *

“They tortured Polly until my father confessed to collaborating with the Legion Liberation Front,” I say numbly. “Then when Purian Rose got everything he came for, he set the Wrath on my father. We were lucky to escape.”

“I’m so sorry,” Ash says.

“Sigur Marwick had promised to protect my father when he turned sides, but he didn’t. He abandoned him. He abandoned all of us when we needed him the most.”

Ash frowns. “Yeah, that sounds like Sigur, all right. He let his own niece die.”

“I don’t know why Rose let the rest of us live. Mother won’t talk about it, other than to say we should count our blessings. She’s never let me forget that it’s my fault Polly got hurt. If I’d run like Father told me to do . . .”

Ash pulls me into his arms.

“I never understood why my mother chose me over Polly. My sister was her favorite. Now she pretends like she doesn’t even exist,” I whisper.

Tears begin to well up in my eyes. I push Ash away and run out of the room. He catches up with me inside my old bedroom, which has been vandalized, the walls covered in graffiti and the furniture overturned and charred. My bed is still in one piece, although it looks like it’s seen some action over the past year.

I lie down on top of the dirty bedcovers and don’t protest when Ash joins me. It’s reckless letting him hold me like this when there are people outside, but I’m gambling on the hope they won’t come into the house. We lie like two spoons nestled against each other.

“I can’t bear this world. It’s so full of anger and hate. There’s death everywhere you look.” I turn to face Ash. “I want to stop feeling like this. Make me forget, Ash, please. Just for a short while, I want to live in a world where we’re not meant to be enemies.”

He looks at me, uncertain.

“Please, Ash . . .”

He kisses me hard, trying to force out the pain we’re both feeling. His heart beats in unison with mine, and I’m flooded with his hurt, love, desire. He’s all through me. Ash’s hands run down my body, skimming over my breasts, stomach, sliding under the waistband of my jeans. I sigh and tug at his top, my fingers slipping under the cotton cloth and caressing his stomach. He tentatively presses his lips against my pulse and runs the tip of his tongue along my neck. I twist my fingers through his hair, and he groans, his senses exploding at my touch.

“Maybe . . . you . . . should . . . stop,” he says between rapid breaths. “I’m . . . losing . . . it . . .”

I carry on massaging his hair, knowing what it’s doing to him, knowing how sensitive his hair is to stimulation and loving the fact I can have this effect on someone as beautiful as him.

He trembles. “Natalie . . . stop . . .”

“No.”

“Stop . . .”

I don’t.

Ash plunges his fangs into my throat.

I scream, but the sound soon evaporates as the venom seeps into my blood, hot and tingly, making my skin numb where his fangs pierced my skin. The room starts to shimmer, and I blink once, twice, trying to focus, but there are so many colors, bright, beautiful rainbow colors swirling through the air. I swipe a hand through the rainbows and giggle when the colors burst and turn into butterflies! They dance and flutter around my hand. They’re so pretty, I almost cry.

Bliss spills over me. I’ve never felt so happy. My hands grip Ash’s hair, pull at his clothes, desperate to touch any part of his skin. I
need
to touch him—I crave him more than water, more than air.

Why was I so afraid to be bitten? It’s not so bad. It’s not like, when Father got attacked, his blood went
whooooosh
all over the floor—

A picture of his dead body bursts into my mind. It’s as if he’s here in the room with me, and it’s happening all over again. Bliss turns to terror. My neck hurts.
Ow . . . ow . . .

“OW! Get off me!” I say.

Ash leaps back, his cheeks flushed. His breathing is ragged, his whole body shaking. I manage to sit up, although my movements are sluggish, my body disconnected. I’m light-headed and dizzy, and desire still rages through me, but I use every last ounce of strength to push it aside. They’re not real emotions. They’re fake ones brought on by the Haze.

“You . . . drugged . . . me,” I manage to say.

Ash puts his head in his hands.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbles through his fingers. “I warned you I was losing control, but you carried on. I thought you wanted this.”

“I wanted you to kiss me, I wanted us to take things a step further, and I admit I got carried away, but I didn’t want
that.
You know how my father died—you must know how much being bitten scares me,” I say.

“I scare you?” he asks quietly.

I don’t answer. We’re only sitting a few feet apart, but I feel so distant from him. For the first time since we met, it’s really sinking in what it means to be dating a twin-blood Darkling.

The bedroom door bangs open, and Gregory barges into the room, his lank hair plastered down the side of his gaunt face, his hazel eyes wild and crazed. He looks completely mad. He takes one look at Ash, and the blood dripping down my neck, and lunges for Ash.

“You rotten half-breed!” he yells.

Ash darts out of the way with lightning speed.

“You’ve got it wrong!” I say.

Ash shakes his head at me, fear in his eyes. I realize my mistake—what we’ve just been doing is infinitely worse than a Darkling taking a bite out of me. I grip Gregory’s arm as he makes another attempt to punch Ash.

“He was giving me some Haze!” I say.

Gregory freezes and looks at me with utter contempt. Footsteps run up the stairs, no doubt drawn by our shouting.

“You’re disgusting,” Gregory sneers at me. “Letting a half-breed feed on you. I should tell your mother—”

“It’s none of your business,” I say.

“How can you let him do that? What are you? A race traitor?”

“Like Chris, you mean?” I zing back.