Rebels (21 page)

“Funny,” he says, “but you remind me a lot of someone.”

“Then why are you here, with me? You've already pursued me across this entire island. Do what you came here to do, then leave.”

He wants to kiss me
, I think.
And I want to let him.

Then the word is there again, flashing in my head: prohibited.

I am sick of
prohibited
. Prohibited from leaving the island, prohibited from asking questions. Prohibited from fighting or laughing too loud or even breathing in a natural manner.

Perhaps it's the whole pointless evening or the knowledge that,
with each passing minute, my chances for a cohabitant grow slimmer.

Perhaps it's because I don't care.

“I can't do this,” he says, almost to himself. His confidence turns to worry. He's backing away from me, more air between us with each passing second.

For once
, I tell myself,
I will do exactly what I want
.

My mind goes blank, just as I have been taught, my final thought being that this isn't the use of training Master had intended.

I rush forward and his lips are on mine, his kiss somehow soft and hard in the very same moment. I'm buzzing all over. I don't want to come up for breath.

Then I'm melting. This surprises me, having never imagined any part of myself to be frozen. The more he pulls away, the more I draw him close.

Our mouths part wider and our kisses multiply. Then there's something small and round rolling around in my mouth. Something that he pushed in with his tongue.

It rolls into my mouth and he's now pulled away, his eyes widening—with horror? Mine must be doing the same. Whatever it is, it's caught at the back of my throat and I feel as if I might choke.

“Spit it out!” he says.

I'm confused, but I do it and a tiny white pearl lands at my feet. It's a pill, I think. My mouth is impossibly bitter, so I spit again, and with it comes rushing too much anger.

“What was that?!”

Veda rears up with a protective neigh, and the Young Man stumbles backward.

“Kane. What did you just do?”

“I changed my mind,” he says. “I didn't want to go through with it . . . but then you kissed me. . . .”

I reach for my zinger, but of course it's not there. Hardly debut appropriate. “Start making sense,” I say.

“I'm sorry,” he says, the words growing thick in his mouth. As much as I wish it, it wasn't me who did this to him. His body grows unsteady and his emotions are blunted. He's not sure what he thinks, and neither am I.

His eyes have trouble remaining focused and the color drains from his face. “I'm so sorry . . . to spoil your special day.” His palms clutch his temples, and he shakes his head to clear away the confusion, but it's not working.

I grab him, I'm so angry. “Did you just try to kill me?”

Half a pill dissolves at my feet, the rest of its poison flowing through my would-be assassin's veins. Did he hold it in his mouth too long? He collapses in my arms, falling forward, and I brace myself to catch his dead weight.

Blood drips from his nose onto my dress. I was never going to wear this again anyway. This day is probably best to be forgotten.

He looks up at me, almost gone, his eyes giving a final flicker of recognition. He smiles, his bloody lip curling upward. “Livia,” he says softly.

His eyes go blank. His body shudders. I mean, someone should try to save him, I just don't think that's me.

Then someone else is shouting my name and it's Waslo standing outside the stable. He stares at us, trying to make sense of the chaos before him.

That's when I see the security team hired especially for my debut. They rush toward me in their PCF uniforms, blasters in hand, and I look around, expecting to see more assassins lurking in the eaves. Just who are they protecting me from?

“Step away from him,” one bellows, Veda rearing up and bellowing right along with him.

“Facedown!” the PCF scream at him. “Hands on your back! Don't move!”

When he doesn't respond, they pull him from my arms, hurling his limp body to the ground.

They surround him, and Waslo takes my hand and pulls me away. They're beating this boy, and once more I can't get a read on him. I scream again and again for them to stop.

He's completely and utterly emotionless. He's unconscious as they continue to hit him.

At least he's no longer feeling any more pain I hope.

A girl. She's air, I can tell, but some sort of weird fringe group, with the way her hair's tangled and her dress recalls some Rock Bottom scav. She doesn't even have shoes.

This doesn't seem important when you consider the white creature behind her—a horse, but not an Archive kind, even though it kind of is that, too. Except this one's real as this memory, massive and the purest white I could ever image. Not synth-white. Pure white.

You can get anything in the Upper Levels, I guess. This way of life I'm still trying to process.

Every time Kane or the airgirl speak, all I get is
buzzzzzzz
, the audiofeed's all jacked, but I suspect Cassina wants it this way.

Something bad is going to happen. I know it. But I can't tear my eyes away.

The girl pretends to ignore Kane. She brushes the horse and I see her playing games, just like Cassina does. It's so transparently obvious.

Kane puts his hand to his lips. A yawn? I can't be sure.

The girl turns back to him. She's got an expression like she's doing him a favor. Lowering herself to offer a few words. Just like an airgirl.

But then she attacks him, right as he's backing away. He's not himself. I have to help him. My reflexes kick in and I bash against the enforcement wall and am reminded I'm just an observer.

By then I see they're kissing. Kane and the girl are kissing, and I feel foolish for rushing in. My training got the better of me. My emotions did, too.

I don't know why, but I'm even angrier than if she'd have punched him.

Kane's words pop into my head.
My first kiss with someone I care about.

I look at the girl. She must be the second. He knew this assignment was coming. He's known about this for a long time. Was she on his mind when he was with me? Am I on his mind when he's with her?

He breaks the kiss. Yells at her. Probably for throwing herself on him.

That's when she spits on him.

Forget not caring for airgirl.
Hate
is a better word.

She's yelling now. Ferocious. Not so great with rejection, I guess.

Now she's pulling back her arm. . . .

Everything goes dim. I figure some glitch is going to boot me out, but then there's a flash and the girl's holding Kane in her outstretched arms. Like he isn't worthy of her touch. Looks down at him with disgust.

His eyes are closed, his body lifeless. And that's when PCF officers surround Kane and start kicking his already broken body. They don't touch her. I can't either. Not right now, but she's out there somewhere. Are they just going to pummel him until he's dead?

Someone is holding the girl back. Her father? He's not PCF, that's for sure. He's fancy, more put together than her. She tries to run toward Kane, but the guy has her good. She struggles against him,
wanting back in on the action. But it's over already. The PCF step back, winded from swinging clubs against a defenseless kid.

Great work, guys.

My list of people to hate is growing.

They move aside, and if you didn't know it was a human lying there at their feet, you wouldn't be able to tell. Until he twitches, and you know there's still life, know that he's got more fight in him than everyone on that pathetic island.

I might puke. It feels like I have to, but my body just won't let me. The memory of the ball and Kane's beating lingers in a bad way and I might just heave all kinds of reality over this Archive access room. She set me up. I stepped right into her trap . . .

Though I asked for this, I really did.

Cassina's still standing there. She just had to stick around to see me this way. She takes the chip from my wrist and I'm too sick to resist. “I can't let anyone know where you got
this
from,” she says.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but all it does is jog my memory, which is the last thing I need. Plugged into a restricted archive, all I could do was stand apart from it and bear witness to Kane's new life without me. I couldn't yell at him or warn him or even beg him to stop. All I could do was watch and see him with someone else, then be beaten so savagely that I can't believe he's still alive.

The nausea begins to pass as the memory fades. Cassina looks calm, but she's keeping her distance. That was a dirty trick. I'd be all over her if I didn't need her in a condition where she could still talk.

“He's alive,” I say, not allowing myself to consider any other option.

“He could be. That's all
I
know.”

“Where'd they take him?”

“With the rest of the traitors and dissidents. You're SpecOps. You have access to all sorts of secret knowledge.”

Her eyes dart to the fist I'm making.

I lack discipline. I lack self-control. I lack satisfaction and answers.

I'm closer to her now, trying to keep my voice from exploding. “Is it real?”

She circles away and puts distance between us. “As you and me. Perhaps, in the past, I've understated how important I am. The man in the videofeed, the one wearing the mark of the Independent High Council, is my father. He has an island, bigger than that. That's where
I
was born.”

“Well, if you're so important, why was your father with her? And why're you down here?”

She's silent for a moment. I've hurt her. Even she doesn't know the answer.

“Kane trespassed, impersonated a Proper Young Man, and then attempted to assassinate that debutee. But he failed, as was plainly apparent. More of an artist than a killer, our Kane.”

Our
Kane.

“Kane's not a killer.”

“Not for a lack of trying,” she says.

“And PCF, were
they
trying to kill him? Is it normal for them to attend fancy balls?”

“Of course. Do you know what would've happened if they weren't there?”

“Can't say I'm civilized enough to know the answer.”

She swings around. “What exactly are you implying?”

“Those men sure looked like they were listening to that man you say is your father.” I keep my voice measured, my face calm. But with each word, I'm moving steadily closer to her. “I mean, he was right there with them. He was watching.”

“He was the host.”

“As host, did he invite Kane?”

“My father had nothing to do with this! Even he wouldn't get in the way of PCF. He saved Livia Cosmo's life!”

Livia Cosmo. At least I have a name.

“How would you even know?” I say. She's starting to get worried, I can see it on her face.

“No way Kane was acting alone. He told me he had a secret assignment. Who gave the orders? I mean, why kill
her
? She's crazy, perhaps, but not exactly old enough to be an enemy of the Indrithian state.”

She shakes her head. She hasn't bothered to ask herself these questions. She's baiting me. “As to that, I have no idea.”

“Think,” I say. “You didn't graduate just so you could stop using your head. We weren't brainwashed.”

She turns her back on me, but only I say when we're finished.

I snatch her up and push her against the wall face-first to stun her. With a little pressure to the back of one knee, she falls forward. I drive my knee in her back and twist one of her arms behind her so it's coiled with enough tension that if she tries to escape, it'll snap.

“Now either I can recollect Kane's pain from that memory and share it with you, or you can tell me what you know about that girl
right now
.”

She grunts and I apply more pressure to her arm.

“She's air, like you,” I say.

“And do you know every orphan?!” she says through gritted teeth. “Of course not.”

I twist.

“She's an orphan!” she nearly screams. “Just like you.”

I whip her around on her back. Pin her with my arm across her throat, my weight and legs restraining the rest of her body. She makes
orphan
into such a hateful word. She doesn't flinch. I look for the signs: fluctuation of pupils, expansion of the nostrils, perspiration, faint twitching of the eyelids.

Nothing. She's not lying, I don't think.

Not a drop of sweat or an off beat in her heart.

Even if she's telling the truth, I'll still make her pay. But right now, she doesn't matter. Only Kane does.

“You just find this memory and you don't question why? Why it was there for you? And your first instinct was to give it to
me
? Of all people?”

When she finally speaks, her voice is a shadow of itself, her song gone. “I know how you feel about me, and I hate you even more. But you're the only one who can help him. I'd do it, but that's not possible in my position. Everyone knows me. But no one thinks twice about a . . .”

She doesn't dare call me that again. People think twice after they get roughed up.

“You're still in love with him,” I say.

This time, her pupils flare. There's a hitch in her breath.

She needs me, I know that now. She needs me and she hates that.

I need her too, and I hate it even more than she does.

I take a deep breath. “What do you know?”

“Will you let go of me already?”

I get up off her and she rolls away, massaging her throat. She pulls herself to standing and straightens her uniform. “I couldn't find out much, even in Security. He was sent to assassinate her, but I'm not sure why.”