Flame (Fireborn) (28 page)

It doesn't surprise me
she's noticed the absent guards.

"Funny, you should
say that," I begin, trying to sound light.

Both her eyes open, and
she's staring as if she can read my mind.

"I was hoping that
maybe you could do me a favor."

"No."

I swallow because she's
definitely mad at me. "Chloris," I try again. "You
know as well as I do what this means." I hold my hands out,
gesturing to my newly cleaned body. "You heard her. We're
offerings
. We're not meant to ever leave this place." She
flinches, and I press harder, coming closer. "There
is
hope. We
can
escape. But we can't do it without your help."
I plead. "We're as good as dead here, Chloris. Can't you see
that?"

She's looking away from
me, staring at the floor.

Precious time slips
away with each passing moment.

"Help us," I
urge her. "Help yourself. Help this
world
."

I didn't mean to sound
as dramatic as I did, yet when the words leave my mouth I know I'm
right. "If we stay here, no one will make it out to warn the
people. The Saguinox will take us all." I shake my head.
"Nothing will ever be the same."

That seems to jolt her
a little bit, and she glances up at me. "Nothing will ever be
the same for you no matter if I help you or not."

I look away because
she's right. Even if I make it out of here, I'll never be able to
live the same life, knowing there are creatures like Chloris and the
Saguinox out there. My dad's face drifts into my mind, and a fresh
pang of homesickness stabs at my heart. "Help me. Just give us a
chance."

Her eyes are
unblinking. "You don't know what you're getting yourself into
with her," she finally says, nodding to Nymphora.

Something cold comes
over me with her words. "It doesn't matter. We have to get out
of here."

She gives me a look
that says
you've been warned
. "I'll help you," she
agrees.

I breathe a sigh of
relief and I almost hug her. "Thank you."

She doesn't say
anything and she doesn't look happy.

"We need you to
watch for the guards, and warn us when they come. We're-"

"I don't need to
know what stupid thing you're about to do," she interrupts. "You
just do what you need to do, and I'll play my part."

"Can you give us a
whistle or something if you see them?"

She whistles, and the
sound is perfect: low, but high pitched enough it travels. Another
whistle answers back, and we turn. Nymphora is giving us the thumbs
up. This seems to distress Chloris more, and without a word she walks
off, moving slowly to the entrance.

I rush to Nymphora.
"Ready?"

She gives me a hard
look and says with a smirk, "Of course."

I point to the door on
the opposite side of us. It's behind the fountain, and is barely
visible inside the wall. I'd only notice it because there was a black
line as thick as a piece of hair visible in the light. "It's a
door. They're good at disguising entrances."

"Wouldn't doubt
it."

"I'm good at not
being seen," I inform her, still amazed something I hated my
whole life might be the only thing keeping me alive.

She lifts a perfect
blue eyebrow. "So am I."

We smile at each other
in understanding. "Let's go."

My heart is pounding,
and adrenaline is pulsing from my core, but I manage to move with
casual nonchalance. It feels like forever, but I'm sure it's only
several seconds before we reach the white wall. A few girls are
having whispered conversations, yet it's too quiet. My eyes find
Chloris to reassure myself she's there, and I spot her almost
instantly, leaning against the door, head bowed. She looks so alone.
A stab of regret hits my conscience. I look at Nymphora's blazing
eyes and I know I've done what is best.

I signal with my hand,
and Nymphora moves forward, blocking my small body with her taller
one. Fingers fumbling, I try to find something on the wall to hold
onto; maybe a latch or handle, anything. I press both my palms on
where I think the door might be and push it sideways, like I'm moving
a sliding door. A soft click, and I still, sucking in a fast breath.
I push again, harder this time, and the door moves.

"I got it," I
whisper to Nymphora.

"Go in. Quickly!"

I don't wait to be told
twice. I slide the wall, wincing when it makes more noise than I
want. When the space is wide enough, I slip my body through.

"Nymphora," I
whisper urgently. "Come in."

She does, struggling to
fit her tail in, and I slide the door further back. When she's
inside, I push it until it's an inch from being closed.

Alarmed, I voice a
sudden thought in my head. "What if we can't hear Chloris?"
It's too late now, and I want to kick myself for my impulsiveness.

"We will,"
Nymphora assures me. "She saw you go through. She knows where we
are. She'll come here to warn us," she says confidently. I close
my eyes in relief. So Chloris
was
looking.

Suddenly, I smell
something burning.

The scent is sweet and
smoky at the same time, like rotten beef over a frying pan or burning
rubber in syrup. The smell is so pungent I taste it in my mouth.

Flesh.

The next morning I
awake with less soreness in my body, but my mind is completely
battered. I have a pounding headache, and my veins are pulsing like
they're going to burst.

"All clear."

The doors open, and I
step wearily out. The usual Saguinox guard is not here. Instead, the
female guard from the cave is standing at the end of the hall, alert.
I suck in a breath when I recognize her as the one who almost caught
me down at the caves. Her spiky blonde hair looks pointier in the
dreary room, and a nose ring glints menacingly underneath the glare
of hot lights. Her hair is cropped short to her head, and the chains
on her belt and pants make her look sinister. She carries herself
like a Goth, but her glowing eyes are amber, and the furthest thing
from black.

"All the females
will be coming with me," she informs us. Her announcement is met
with varying degrees of horror, and she smiles, relishing the fear.
"The men will stay behind." She pauses, making certain all
attention is on her. "They will wait for the crystal."

Shock ripples through
us, and my eyes can't help but go to the two men near me. One is
going to vomit, and the other is very thin, and seems to close his
eyes in acceptance. The girl across from me is silently sobbing,
barely touching the man next to her. His eyes are still closed, and
he's breathing heavily. Even though they've probably never talked,
both have lived side by side for days, eating, working, and breathing
together. That sort of relationship makes a different kind of
connection, one that distresses when severed.

The guards gesture to
us, and we begin marching. Even though it's forbidden I glance back
for one last look. One still has his eyes closed, his face more
serene than I've ever seen. The other has his eyes open, and they're
following us.

He sees me turning, and
stares at me in shock. My gaze doesn't leave his though, and I try to
say with my eyes, what I can't with my mouth. He seems to understand,
and he gives me the slightest hint of a smile. As I watch, something
comes over him. He clenches his jaw, staring at the guard following
us. His hands curl into fists at his sides. He's slowly straightening
his back, and he winces like it's painful, but he ignores it, arching
his back, raising his head, and standing tall.

Defiant.

For one dangerous
moment he is as tall as the guards.

That's the last image I
see before I force myself to turn away. With one blink he is gone
from my vision.

I didn't even know his
name, but I play his face in my mind over and over again to make sure
I remember what it looks like to stand tall.

* * *

We're moving toward a
part of the compound I've never seen before. My heart is pounding
with the adrenaline of what I want to do. I sneak secret glances
around me, desperate to glean as much information as I can. Dreary
gray walls are all I see. We're shuffling our bodies, marching
softly, surrounded by four guards who are as mute as we are.

After a couple minutes
I notice I'm no longer on concrete. Instead we're walking on wooden
floors now. They're shiny and strangely clean. Seconds later we enter
through a door. My eyes drift up, and I see a glimpse of white
ceilings and a door before I'm ushered through it.

The first thing I feel
is warmth. Sweaty air swirls around me, and goose bumps shoot down my
body. Then I see the floor, and it's completely white, like thick
cream. The white is spotless, and very shiny, and I can't help but
wonder how they keep it so clean. Immediately I hear scrubbing
sounds, and out of the corner of my eye I catch sight of pale hands
scouring the ground. We take a few more steps and stop, one body
behind the other, still in two perfect rows. We shift until our
shoulders almost touch, facing inward and wait.

The Saguinox female is
walking in the center, slowly examining us. When she gets to me, I
lower my eyes, holding my breath. The seconds tick by before she
finally grunts, moving to the person next to me. Nymphora catches my
eyes, mouthing
what is going on?
I only shake my head in
answer because, really, I'm the newbie here.
She
probably
knows more than me.

After many torturous
minutes the Saguinox walks back to the center and claps her hands for
our attention. I roll my eyes because it isn't necessary, considering
the only sounds heard are her heavy walking. I glance up as she
begins to talk, and my eyes widen as I notice something behind her.

A door.

It's barely visible,
neatly camouflaged just like the windows and doors on their ships
are. My curiosity piqued, it takes every ounce of willpower to look
away.

"The one thing you
all have in common are the disgusting smells that roll off of you
like shit. We have pets on Sangine that smell less than you,"
she snickers. I grate my teeth in anger. "No one can be offered
smelling or looking like you do."

My heart clenches in my
chest.
Offered?

"This is the
bathing room." She gestures up and around, but I know better
than to raise my head to look. "New offerings will be given to
you to wear. Your job is to clean yourselves and make your body
presentable. If you're around filth enough, you start to stink like
it. And I'm tired of smelling shit."

My chest is squeezing
itself, and I glance at Chloris. She looks as sick as I feel. I'd
never seen a green face go white before.

The guard's voice is
hard as she continues. "Escape is an illusion. Should you
attempt, he will find you, and you will be very sorry." With the
standard Saguinox warning issued, she turns her back, and walks out.
We're left with three smirking guards who suddenly look very
interested in us and I want to vomit.

"You may go,"
she calls to us over her shoulders, but we're not sure what she means
or where to go. I look up, and gasp at what I see. My eyes drift over
white walls, and white floors. To the side of us are golden curtains.
I assume they're shower curtains because there are white tiles
underneath. A showerhead peeks through, glinting. To the other side
of us is a petite fountain. It's gorgeous and grand, something found
in aristocratic homes in ancient Greece. Blue water shimmers inside,
and everything is so beautiful I almost forget where I am. This place
is a stark contrast to our prison cells. Just being here makes me
feel cleaner.

"What. The. Heck."
Nymphora whispers to me, sliding closer. "They work us all day,
then they want us clean and bring us to a place like
this
?"

I shake my head. "I
don't understand. Do you think they're planning to sacrifice all of
us in one final, grand offering?"

She looks bleaker than
I've ever seen her. "I don't know."

None of us are sure
what to do so we follow each other. One enters into a shower stall,
and slips her dress off, leaving it hanging on the shower curtain. I
glance at the guards, and they're watching us with hot gazes. One in
particular is staring hard at Chloris, his gaze too forceful for my
liking. My hands curl into fists, and I resist the urge to smack the
smiles from their faces. I'm stubborn, and I endure as long as I can.
Before long, hot air from each stall drifts over, beckoning me. I can
smell dirt and sweat on my body, and the warmth is so delightful I
finally give in.

Raising the heavy
golden curtains, I marvel at the clean tiles, and the shiny
showerhead. It looks more expensive than anything I've ever been able
to afford. The irony doesn't escape me: I'm locked in a prison,
worked to death, but dressed in couture red, showering in a palatial
bathroom.

This is so sick.

It reminds me of
prisoners on death row. The night before they're sentenced to die
they get to choose any meal they want. It can be as elaborate as they
desire, one last piece of heaven before they're shut out forever.
That thought leaves a dry taste in my mouth, and I don't enjoy the
shower as much as I want to.

Pulling off my dress, I
hang it over the shower curtains. It's not very high and my head and
neck are still visible. I turn a knob and instantly hot water
cascades over my skin, making my hair heavy. My brown locks turn
black when wet, and I move it to the side, clutching the showerhead.
I can hear the deep voices of the male guards, and I give them my
back, seething with hatred. I hear fabric slipping down, and I turn
just in time to see one take my dress, grinning wickedly as his eyes
travel down my skin.