Shatter City Page 6

  Col sighs. “An auspicious beginning.”

  “Sir,” Zura says. “If we’d told the rebels Rafia was missing, they would’ve pulled out. I would have aborted the mission, if we’d had any other way to get to you.”

  “I know. An impossible situation.” Col shakes his head. “But here’s what I don’t understand: Why did you tell them just now, Dr. Leyva?”

  Leyva’s smile chills me a little.

  “We could’ve kept it from them. But Frey was bound to wonder where her sister was.” He turns to me, still smiling. “We felt uncomfortable, asking her to lie to her rebel friends.”

  I hold his gaze. “Is this a polite way of saying you don’t trust me?”

  “Not that polite.”

  “Leyva!” Col says. “Is it your intention to insult all of our allies today?”

  “No, sir. But it was better that the rebels hear the facts from us.”

  Col lets out a groan, staring down at the spilled ice on the carpet.

  “He’s right, Col,” I say softly. “I wouldn’t have kept it from X. But tell me the truth, Doctor—do you know why Rafi ran away?”

  Leyva shakes his head. “Your sister can be difficult.”

  “I’m aware.”

  “She disliked taking orders,” Zura says. “And ‘camping,’ as you put it. In fact, the only thing she seemed to enjoy was imitating you.”

  This still seems strange to me, but it brings a smile to my lips. Hardly anyone in Shreve knows the way I talk when I’m being myself. It’s almost as if the flawlessness of her impersonation was a message aimed at me.

  But I have no idea what she was saying.

  Col takes my hand. “We’ll find her, Frey.”

  “We have larger concerns at the moment,” Leyva says. “Maybe while the rebels have left us, we can discuss the state of the Victorian army.”

  “We’re down to thirty soldiers,” Zura reports. “Three hovercraft. No plasma rifles.”

  “Hardly an army.” Col stares out the window a moment. “Any other good news?”

  The other two Victorians exchange a glance.

  “We’d prefer to discuss the rest in private,” Leyva says.

  Col looks around the room. The empty glasses where the rebels were sitting.

  “Are you joking?” Col says. “Frey can hear anything you have to say!”

  Leyva spreads his hands. “She just said that she’d rather not keep things from her rebel friends.”

  A spark of annoyance goes through me. Leyva knew I’d say that to make things easier on Col—he’s orchestrating this whole conversation.

  “This isn’t up for discussion,” Col says. “Frey isn’t going anywhere.”

  Neither of the other two speaks.

  Col swears under his breath. “Just to make this clear, I’m ordering you to continue with this briefing.”

  Zura raises her hands. “I’ve given you my report, sir. This is Leyva’s business.”

  “Doctor?” Col demands.

  Dr. Leyva crosses his arms. “I have nothing to say.”

  “Leyva! If you aren’t going to obey orders, then I’ll have to—”

  “Col,” I cut in. “Don’t. It’s okay.”

  “It’s not okay.”

  “Right, but it’s okay for now.” I stand up and walk across the cabin, their stares heavy on me. At the door, I turn to face them. “You can tell me everything later, Col.”

  He stares back at me, still angry at Leyva. Still in pain from the collar’s jolt. Still needing me beside him.

  But the Victorian resistance can’t afford to lose more people.

  “Okay,” Col says at last. “I’ll tell you all of it later.”

  I smile for him.

  And then I go away.

  Out the window of the mag-lev, the world is a blur.

  At this speed, the hills rise up and disappear in seconds, rolling waves of scrub and sand. Behind them, the desert changes color at the stately pace of the shifting sun.

  My sister is missing. She’s out there somewhere—alone.

  I’m alone too, waiting for Col in his cabin.

  He’ll tell me everything, of course, but there’s a bigger problem: I’m not sure he’s in charge of the Victorian army anymore. Leyva was ready to disobey a direct order.

  Maybe that’s why my sister ran away—she decided the Palafoxes were a lost cause. Deadweight, as our father said.

  But she knew I’d be with her soon …

  Maybe Rafi’s still in Paz, waiting for me to show up. She doesn’t know that our father’s willing to wreck the whole city just to flush out his wayward, dangerous daughter.

  I have to find her before that happens.

  “Tell me about our destination,” I tell the train’s AI.

  “Paz is a city of two million on the island of Baja, and is often called the City Where Everyone’s Happy.”

  My father always laughed at that. The train keeps talking.

  When they turn sixteen, the citizens of Paz get “feels”—a surgical implant that allows them to control their mental state. They can experience joy, infatuation, contentment—an array of emotions at the press of a finger.

  I’m not sure their happiness is real, but part of me has always wanted to visit, just to see it in person. It doesn’t hurt that my father and Paz are enemies.

  I wonder if the feels are what made Rafi choose this city. Controlling her own emotions has never been her strong point. Did she run off for the promise of happiness, away from the war?

  No. She still would have waited for me.

  When I check the feeds, they’ve hardly mentioned our escape. Just some shaky video showing the failure of a “cowardly” rebel attack on the first daughter. According to the official Shreve feeds, I’m safe at home, happily preparing for my wedding day.

  Only the best publicity—our father’s too worried about looking weak to admit he’s lost another daughter.

  By now his people have searched the wreckage of the limo, so he must know we escaped. He’ll understand at last that neither of his daughters is on his side.

  I wonder what stories the Shreve feeds will start telling then.

  When the cabin door opens at last, I spring up from the bed.

  But it isn’t Col. The huge frame of Boss X fills the corridor.

  “Oh, come in,” I say. “If you can fit.”

  “I’m very flexible.”

  Graceful too—X eases through the door and curls up on the bed, leaving me squished in a corner. He seems right at home.

  When we first met, back at the White Mountain, X’s inhuman surge was nervous-making. In combat, he’s a righteous terror. But there’s something comforting about the warmth of his body filling the cabin, his fur shining in the late-afternoon light.

  “I thought you might be lonely,” he says.

  “Yeah. Got kicked out. Col’s people don’t like me anymore.”

  “Do you care?”

  I shrug. “It helps to be trusted when you’re fighting a war together.”

  He looks disapproving. “The ’Foxes are fighting a different war from ours, Frey. They want to rule again. We want a revolution.”

  “A revolution? I thought you rebels only cared about saving the wild.”

  “Same disease,” X says. “When you put yourself above other people, you put yourself above the planet too.”

  I go back to staring out the window. “Right—you think the Palafoxes are part of the problem.”

  “The powerful always are.”

  “They live in a forest, X.”

  “But they still claim a city, like your own family.” A look of amusement crosses his face. “Maybe that’s why you crave their approval.”

  I just laugh. “My family life isn’t something I want to re-create.”

  “No, Frey, it’s something you want to fix. Maybe part of you wants to join the ’Foxes so you’ll have a real family at last.”

  “I didn’t join the Palafoxes—I fell in love with Col!
I don’t care that he’s a first son. Why are you being so head-shrinking tonight?”

  “I only came to keep you company.” X reaches up to stroke the pendant around his neck—a piece of wood on a simple leather strap. “And to remind you to be happy.”

  “Happy? My sister’s missing. My allies don’t trust me.”

  “Some of your allies do.” He curls tighter on the bed, like he’s settling in for a nap. But his eyes stay wide and alert. “Consider this: You went undercover in your father’s house, saved your boy, escaped without a scratch. You should be in the next car with us rebels, drinking all night long. Instead, you’re here sulking, letting the ’Foxes blame you for their failures.”

  “The attack of Shreve was my plan. Col’s capture was my fault!”

  “There are no guarantees on a battlefield. Col knew that. They all did.”

  “Sure, Boss. But I keep messing up. This whole time pretending to be Rafi, I’ve been helping my father keep control.”

  “That’s the best part,” X says with a feral grin. “He depended on you, and now you’re gone. Sounds like a plan for making someone stumble.”

  “I dispute your use of the word plan. But thanks for trying to make me feel better.”

  “I’m just reminding you who you are, Frey. Not a ’Fox, or the first daughter of Shreve. You’re one of us proles.”

  “I bet Rafi would know that word. Alas, I don’t.”

  “She’d only know the definition, Frey—you know the meaning. You were created as a tool, a means to an end. You owe the world nothing but chaos.”

  “But my sister—”

  “Isn’t you,” he interrupts. “When you stop pretending to be her, you’ll be stronger.”

  “Are you saying I have identity issues? You got surged to be a wolf!” The words spill out in Rafi’s voice, raw and spiteful.

  X bares his teeth—in anger or amusement, I can’t tell.

  It’s cringingly rude to make someone justify their surge. But Rafi always gossiped when her friends got new faces or flash tattoos. And since meeting him, I’ve often wondered how X chose to become something so inhuman.

  He’s so comfortable with who and what he is now.

  “Sorry, Boss.” I try to control my voice, to make it my own. “You’re right. I just spent a month pretending to be Rafi, twenty-four hours a day. I have no idea who I am.”

  “Let me help with that.” He sits up straighter, setting the wooden pendant on his necklace swaying. “When this train gets to Paz, my crew will go our own way. We don’t need the ’Foxes. Neither do you.”

  I’m staring at the pendant—there’s something familiar about the color of the wood. “Maybe I don’t need them, but I love Col.”

  A sigh ripples X’s fur. “There’s no cure for that. But if you ever need a real family, there’s no blood like crew.”

  I stare at him, realizing what he’s offering.

  “You think I should be a rebel?”

  He gives me a solemn nod. “One of mine.”

  My throat feels tight, like when the rebels made their toast to me. For a moment, I see myself belonging to something looser and wilder than the Victorian resistance. Something flexible, graceful, free of history, free of regret.

  X’s hand goes to his pendant again, and I recognize the color at last—it’s a piece of wood from the stage in my father’s ballroom, worn smooth by his touch. I watched Boss X cut it free during the attack on Shreve.

  A fresh wave of guilt hits.

  “In the ballroom,” I say softly, “you told me about loving a rebel boy.”

  “You think that undermines my argument?”

  “No, it’s just …”

  The young rebel in question was the assassin at my sister’s first speech, the first person I ever killed. It was my pulse knife that cut him in half on that stage, and X doesn’t know.

  A dozen ways to confess spin in my head. But there are no words of my own among them, just things Rafi would say. She’d know exactly how to tearfully apologize. How to artfully admit killing the love of someone’s life.

  All I’ve got is “I have to save my sister.”

  X lets out a low, rumbly laugh. “Rafia of Shreve can take care of herself.”

  “Maybe. But our father knows she’s in Paz. He’s planning something.”

  X’s ears prick up. “Sending an assassin?”

  “Much bigger than that. He found some kind of ancient weapon in the ruins near Victoria.” I recall the exact words. “Like a force of nature. Maybe a city-killer?”

  “Interesting. Tell the ’Foxes. We’ll see what they do.”

  I frown. “So you trust them now?”

  “I trust them to fail you. I just want you to notice this time.”

  My eyes close, shielding me from the sting of his words.

  The face of Aribella Palafox fills my mind. Not the painting in my father’s trophy room—the real woman, on the afternoon she promised to protect me while I was in her home.

  She was so formidable, but gentle too, like she really cared for me. A perfect inversion of my father. Maybe she’s why I can’t blame the Palafoxes for hating me. Maybe I could’ve saved her somehow.

  Great. Boss X has me head-shrinking myself now.

  “I’ll tell Col tonight,” I say. “He’ll help.”

  “He’d better,” X growls. “Don’t forget, he owes you his life.”

  The Cobra stops in the city of Vega.

  Outside my window, local wardens are swarming, and soldiers too. Lifting drones are carting away pieces of the magnetic dish. Everyone looks tense, like we’re about to be kicked off the train.

  What if they arrest us? Put us in some local jail until my father can—

  The cabin door slides open. It’s Col.

  I jump up and we throw our arms around each other, like the train is crashing and we don’t want to be pulled apart.

  For a boundless moment, our embrace is everything. Just us alone—no dust, no cams, no guards. At last I can say anything I want.

  But we’ve played the game of lies for so long, I don’t know how to change the rules.

  The words are lost inside me.

  “Frey,” Col murmurs.

  “Mostly.”

  Our lips meet—and suddenly the world is limitless, out here beyond my father’s walls. This small train cabin is as vast as the wild, but our kiss fills it, everything warmth and certainty.

  At last he’s in my arms again, safe from my father.

  A thud comes from outside—Col and I turn to the window. A lifting drone has crashed against a column in the station, scraping paint and stone. The wardens look upset.

  “Are we in trouble?” I ask.

  Col shakes his head. “They just want to make sure we don’t leave the train, in case your father’s figured out we’re aboard. They don’t want a firefight in the middle of their city. We have to stay on till Paz.”

  “Fine with me.” That’s where I have to start looking for my sister.

  “Sorry about Leyva kicking you out.”

  “The time alone was good.” And that talk with Boss X was necessary. He was right—I might love Col, but I’ll never be a ’Fox, loyal to his name, serving him blindly.

  I’m not even me yet.

  Rafi’s voice lingers in my mouth. Her ballet stance has settled into my muscles like an ache, and I’m still wearing her clothes. Her expressions come to my face faster than my own.

  But I can taste hints of myself on Col’s lips.

  We kiss again, harder now, desperate to tear away all those false hours in my father’s tower. All our pretended distance, the walls and air listening to every word. The two of us slipping hidden meaning into our words, hoping to be heard.

  Needing to be seen.

  I can taste his hunger too, after a month of calling me by the wrong name. After losing his family, his city, his freedom. There’s almost nothing left of him but me.

  And there it is—that rawness we had in those first day
s of the war. In the wild. Under fire. Stripped of everything.

  Our bodies meet, and a month of hiding myself begins to fall away at last, scattered by Col’s kisses, by his touch. I’m in here somewhere.

  We start to find me.

  The train is moving again.

  We’re an hour from Paz. The fields around us are full of white weed, an ancient invasive species of orchid that the Rusties made. It once threatened to choke the world, but now it’s under control. More or less.

  We’ll arrive in the city as the sun sets, through a tunnel beneath the Baja Sea.

  I wish we had longer on this train. There’s so much we need to talk about, and we’ve hardly spoken yet.

  When my fingers brush Col’s bare throat, where the weight of the collar still marks his skin, he doesn’t flinch. But his eyes darken.

  “Does it still hurt?” I ask.

  “There’s a buzzing in my head.” He frowns. “Didn’t they zap you too?”

  “You got it worse, I think. Dona said she could light up your nerves for the rest of your life.”

  Col gently pulls my hand away, kisses my fingertips. “No pain lasts forever. She was trying to scare you.”

  “It worked.”

  “The agony wasn’t the worst part.” He closes his eyes. “It was how everything else disappeared. At the flick of a switch, all of me gone except for the collar.”

  “She hurt you to punish me.” I remember him rigid on the limo floor. “Dona hates me—or Rafi, really. She can’t seem to keep us straight.”

  Col sighs. “Leyva’s just as bad.”

  “Right.” I pull away a little, leaving space for awkward subjects. “So what’s the big secret? Has he got a brilliant plan to save Victoria?”

  Col turns away, staring out the window at the blur of white weed. He’s silent for too long.

  I feel myself slipping away. Lost again.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” I say softly.

  “No, it’s just … he wanted to talk about you.”

  I stare at him. “Me?”

  And finally it hits—there’s only one way Col can retain command of his army.

  “Leyva wants you to break up with me,” I say.

  He looks astonished, but then his face cracks into a smile.

  “He wouldn’t dare, Frey. But he wanted to talk about how to present us to the rest of the world.”