Morningside Fall (2 page)

“Well, I don’t think there’s any serious damage. Nothing missing, nothing broken,” Mouse said, flashing a subdued smile. “Just going to put a couple of drops of goo on this gash to seal you up and you should be all set, ’kay, buddy?”

Wren nodded, and Mouse stepped around behind him to do his work.

“Looks like you got a pretty good whack from something sharp and bony. Knee? Elbow? Chin maybe?” he asked.

Wren shrugged. He remembered every terrifying moment with absolute clarity, but he didn’t feel much like talking about what had happened. He just kept thinking through it, wondering what he could’ve done differently. What he should’ve done differently. Maybe he should’ve called out sooner. Or hidden under the bed. Surely there was a way for it to have turned out differently, a way that didn’t end in death.

“Well, whatever it was, I’m glad it’s no worse. You might end up with a little scar, but I think it’ll heal up fine.”

Wren heard the words, but they didn’t really register. He was too busy playing the scenes out in his head.

“Thanks, Mouse,” Cass said.

“No sweat, Cass. You need anything else?”

She shook her head. “I think we’re OK for now.”

“Alright then. I’m going to go see about… uh,” Mouse finished his sentence with a little nod towards the hall. Cass nodded. Mouse squeezed Wren’s shoulder and left the room. Able bounced a gentle fist off Mouse’s upper arm as he passed, a silent gesture of thanks and casual affection. For some reason it made Wren wish he had a brother. And reminded him of the one he had once had.

A thought occurred to Wren, and he sat up straighter in Cass’s lap. “Mama. How did you get there so fast?”

“What do you mean?”

“You weren’t in your room. You came from down the hall. When I yelled for help, you came so fast. And Able…” he trailed off, realizing that Able must have already been in the hall when he’d called. And Able couldn’t have heard Wren calling anyway.

“You called before that, sweetheart. You know. The way you can.”

She put special emphasis on the words.
The way you can.
The way he could, without knowing how. The way he’d done it before. And other things. Worse things.

He said, “I wish I knew what she was trying to say. There, at the end.”

Cass just nodded.

“Did you hear?” Wren asked.

Cass shook her head. “No, sweetheart, I couldn’t.” But her eyes flicked up at Able, and there was something to it that Wren picked up on. Able didn’t react, but when Wren looked at him, he held his gaze.

“Able,” Wren said. “Could you tell what she was saying?”

Able didn’t move. Just held Wren’s stare. But Wren could see it in his eyes. Able, deaf from birth, was a masterful lip-reader.

“Able.”

Able glanced at Cass, a silent request for permission. Cass nodded. He drew a breath, looked back at Wren, and carefully signed.
She said, “They told us you were a demon.”

T
he mid-morning sunlight seemed overpowering to Cass’s dazzled eyes even through the special veil that covered her face. Though it was never easy for her to see in broad daylight, the veil usually made it bearable for her altered vision. But at the moment the morning glare was creating a pressure behind her eyes and at her temples that threatened to become a full-blown migraine if she didn’t head back indoors soon. Of course she hadn’t slept in almost thirty hours, and that likely wasn’t helping matters.

She and Wren were in a small courtyard not far from the north-eastern gate of the compound. It wasn’t as nice or as large as the central courtyard, nor as secure, but it was Wren’s preferred place to get outside and Cass knew it’d help boost his spirits before the meeting of the Council. Or rather, she hoped it would. He’d grown distant of late; spending more time alone, less willing to talk, more likely to shut down if she pressed him. He’d hardly spoken at all since the attack. And though she wanted more than anything to gently probe her young son’s mind, Cass knew the only chance she had to learn what was going on inside Wren was to wait patiently for him to begin on his own terms. And so they walked in silence with slow careful steps, Cass feeling all the while that her son was becoming more and more a stranger.

The narrow stretch of open space was shaded and rarely traveled. Cass couldn’t help but wonder if it was the isolation that attracted Wren so. It wasn’t quiet per se. Morningside was never quiet. But the high walls and fortified structure of the compound shielded them somewhat and reduced the noise to a background murmur. She glanced up at the wall separating them from the city at large, and saw a figure moving along the top. They’d put extra men on the wall. Not surprising, given the night’s events, but she wondered if it was wise. Citizens were bound to notice the change, and it never took much to start rumors.

“It’s nice to be out here with you, Mama,” Wren said. His sudden words, quiet as they were, jolted Cass from her thoughts.

“It’s nice to be out here with
you
, Wren,” she said with a smile.

“I mean, with just you.”

“Yeah. Seems like it’s hardly ever just us anymore, huh?”

“Yeah.”

He went quiet again for a few moments after that, but Cass could tell he was working up to something. Sometimes he just needed time to find the words, and sometimes Wren waited for her to ask the right questions. For a long time it had been easy for her to read her son, but lately it’d been different. Difficult. Maybe it was that they hadn’t spent as much time together the past few weeks. Or maybe, more frightening to her, he was just growing up.

“Do you miss it just being the two of us?” she asked.

Wren shrugged and then waggled his head back and forth from shoulder to shoulder slightly, a gesture that Cass had learned to interpret as “kinda”.

“I know I’ve been away a lot lately,” she said. “There’s just been a lot going on. But I’ll try to make more time for us, if you’d like that.”

Wren nodded. But there was more to it than that. Not that it looked like he was going to offer.

“Have you been enjoying your time with Able and Swoop and everyone?” Cass asked.

“I guess so.”

“Just guess so?”

Wren shrugged. “They’re all really nice.” His tone didn’t carry any enthusiasm.

“But they’re not Three.”

Wren shook his head.

“I miss him too,” she said. “Every day.”

“Mama, do you think we could go away?” Wren asked, looking up at her. She must’ve looked surprised by the question, because he quickly added, “Just for a little while, I mean.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, baby,” Cass answered. “I don’t think people would like it too much if their governor disappeared all of a sudden.” She’d meant to make the statement light, but from Wren’s reaction she realized she’d said exactly the wrong thing. Cass tried to recover, to keep him from shutting down on her completely. “But who knows? I guess if you’re in charge you can do what you want. Where would you like to go?”

Wren shrugged again. Cass tried to think of a place to suggest, but found she couldn’t come up with one that didn’t have some painful memory attached to it. She needed something, though, to keep him talking.

“Greenstone?” she said, and then held her breath. They hadn’t been back since their narrow escape from that wild and dangerous city. But for all the threats they had faced, the little time they’d spent there had also offered them a greatly unexpected refuge and, for one precious moment, almost a sense of home.

Wren did his little head wag again.

“Greenstone would be nice,” he said, finally. “Or Chapel’s, maybe.” Chapel’s village without walls, just on the edge of the Strand. It sounded like an imaginary place, a fairytale for children in a world of fortified cities and urban wasteland. But Chapel and his people had taken Wren in for a time, and Cass knew as dreamlike as it sounded, it did exist out there, somewhere, on the Strand’s fringe.

She said, “I’d really like to see that someday.”

“I think you will.”

They were just passing the north-eastern gate, and Cass hadn’t really thought much about it until Wren stopped walking. She continued on a few steps before turning back. He was just looking off through the gate.

“Wren? You OK?”

“I’m not who they think I am, Mama,” he said quietly. And his words held such weight that she knew this, at last, had been what he’d been building up to say.

“Who, baby?”

“Any of them.” He looked so small to sound so weary. Cass returned to her son and crouched in front of him. She lifted her veil and took his face in her hands. His cheeks were cool from the morning air.

“Listen to me,” she said. “Last night wasn’t about anything that you did, or anything you could’ve done. And you never have to try to be anything that you aren’t.”

Without taking his eyes from hers, Wren said, “I do, Mama. I do have to try. Every day.”

He said it with such quiet authority, Cass couldn’t think of anything to say. Her hands slid off his face, down to his shoulders.

Wren looked off towards the gate. “All those people,” he said. “It doesn’t work like that.”

It took a moment before Cass understood. She followed his gaze, and the pieces came together. Though it was technically still an entryway, the north-eastern gate was hardly ever used to actually enter or exit the compound. Soon after Wren had Awakened the first of the Weir, word had spread through the city with surprising speed. And then the memorials had started showing up. Wreaths, ever-burning vigil lights, personal belongings… offerings, really. It wasn’t a gate anymore. It was a shrine. To her son.

And then, worst of all, the pictures began appearing. Just one or two, at first. Then each day brought a few more. Now there were dozens and dozens of pictures of people who had disappeared. The taken. And with every one hung a silent, permanent plea for Wren to find them and bring them back.

Cass just pulled him to her then and held him tightly. In that moment she wasn’t sure if she was giving comfort or taking it, but Wren didn’t try to resist. She knew it was hard on him, of course. To be ruling a city at such a young age. Cass had tried to insulate him as much as possible. But their choices had been so few; after what had happened they could never have stayed within Morningside as normal citizens. And at the time the idea of leaving again, of having nowhere to go and to be always on the run, had been too much for either of them to bear. In the end it had seemed the only real choice, to stay and let her child be revered as governor. Maybe worshiped. Now, feeling his tiny frame in her arms, she wondered that she could have ever been such a fool.

Cass had hoped, and maybe even let herself believe, that with her as his primary advisor and with the help of the Council members, that the burden wouldn’t be too much for Wren to bear. Of course it was too much to bear. Of course it was too much to ask. And the pressures of governing were only made worse by the guilt he must have felt, knowing all those people were counting on him, believing he could rescue their missing and deliver them safely back home.

It hardly seemed fair, after all they had been through: the flight from RushRuin, the cold nights of hunger, the utter terror of the Weir, the heavy losses. To have come so far, to have escaped all of that, only to find themselves surrounded by everything they could ever need or want – and discover it was just a different kind of prison. Tears brimmed in her eyes, but she blinked them quickly away.

“Tell you what,” Cass said. “What if you didn’t come to Council today?”

“I have to. I’m the governor.”

Cass rocked back so she could look at her son. “You’re the governor. You
don’t
have to.”

He smiled a little at that. Wren said, “But I should go.”

“I’ll tell them you needed some time off. After last night, no one would blame you.”

“Uncle Aron might.”

“Uncle Aron is a grouchy old man. If you came, he’d probably fuss at you for being there.” She felt his slight shoulders relax under her hands and knew that skipping the meeting was the right thing. Yet another thing that had been weighing on him. He was just too concerned with what he felt was his duty to have said anything about it. “I’m pulling rank. As your mother, I demand that you not come. So that’s that.”

“I don’t think it’s like that anymore, Mama.”

Cass was surprised by how much those words cut her. Not because Wren had intended any hurt; he’d just said it as if it were fact. Perhaps she feared it was.

“It is today,” she said, standing back up as she did.

“Well,” Wren said. “If you think it’ll be OK.”

“I’ll take the heat if there is any. But I’m sure everyone will understand.”

“OK, then. Is it alright if I stay here? Just for a little while longer?”

Cass was still weighing the options when someone called through the gate.

“Mister Governor!”

They both looked over to see a couple of teenagers peering through the bars.

“Hey, Painter!” Wren called back. He looked up at Cass, and she nodded, and together they walked over to the gate. The daylight made it hard for her to identify the two from a distance, but as they approached, Cass recognized the other teen as a kid everyone just called Luck. He was the more stylish of the two, always quick with a smile – and had a seriously dry wit. Luck was sporting a pair of dark glasses.

Painter was tall and thin, with arms and legs just a little too long to look like they belonged to him. His hair was a wavy brown nest too loose to call curly but with an obvious mind of its own. He tended to be self-conscious – either because of, or compounded by, the heavy stutter he suffered from. Painter looked in every way like a typical nineteen year-old kid. Except in the eyes; though they were currently hidden beneath dark goggles, Cass knew that where others had iris and pupil, Painter had only softly radiating blue. Both he and Luck had become good friends to Wren. And both had been Awakened.

“Luck, Painter,” she said, greeting them both. “What brings you gentlemen around?”

“Actually we were on our way back home, Miss Cass,” Luck said. “They wouldn’t let us in the front gate.”

“The Council’s meeting,” Cass answered. Normally security wouldn’t lock the compound down just for the Council, but what she’d said was true and she hoped it wouldn’t invite any further questions.

“Oh, OK. We were just coming to say ‘hi’,” said Luck. “Guess we’ll catch up later?”

Cass looked down at Wren, who in turn looked up at her. His eyes told her everything she needed to know.

“Actually, I have to get to this meeting, but Wren’s free. Why don’t you fellas walk back around to the north-west gate, and he’ll meet you there?”

“Uh, OK, sure,” Luck said. “If it’s no bother.”

“I’d like the company,” Wren said.

“Alright, we’ll see you there. Thanks, Miss Cass!”

“Sure thing, Luck,” she said. Painter dipped his head and waved. Cass smiled back, and the two young men disappeared from the gate. When they were gone, Cass turned Wren towards her. She said, “I know you’ll be careful, but watch what you say, OK? It’s very important that no one finds out about what happened last night, alright?”

“I know, Mama. I’ll be smart.”

“I know you will, baby. I’ll come find you after the meeting, OK?”

“Kay.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Cass bent and kissed Wren on the top of the head, and then sent him off towards the main gate. As she watched him go, she inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. The attack had raised so many questions in her mind; there were too many moving pieces, too many shifting variables for her to grasp anything solid. But despite the cloud of confused and swirling thoughts, something in her gut insisted that someone from the Council had been involved.

With Wren removed from the meeting, the Council members would be off-balance; some would be less guarded, others more so. Reading them would be critical. Cass needed all the focus she could muster. She drew the veil back down over her face. And with a sharp, short breath she steeled herself, and headed towards the Council Room.

As Wren approached the gate, he crossed behind two guardsmen patrolling through the front courtyard. Neither of them seemed to notice him. He moved behind them and picked up on the middle of their conversation.

“Just a couple of those deadling kids. Said they came by to see the Governor,” the shorter one said.

“Ugh. I dunno why we ever let ’em in in the first place. They gimme the creeps.”

“Yeah, I don’t know,” the first guard replied with a shrug, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. “Kid’s mom seems alright.”

The other guard snorted. “She’s alright from behind for sure. I’d like to bend her over a chair, as long as she didn’t turn around.”

Wren had no idea what that was supposed to mean exactly, but he knew they weren’t speaking well of his mama, and something rose up inside him.

“Hey!” he called.

Both guards jumped a little and turned in surprise. Wren guessed the shorter one was in his forties, and the other was quite a bit younger. Twenties, maybe. He recognized them both, but didn’t know either of their names. They stood awkwardly next to one another.

“Governor,” the older one said, and it sounded like some mix of a greeting, a question, and just a hint of a joke. And in that moment, Wren missed Mama and Able. He had to say something to these men, now that he had their attention, but he didn’t know what. They were grown-ups, after all. Tall and muscled and certainly not used to being challenged by little boys. Swoop had been trying to teach Wren how to talk with authority and how to command a room. But Wren realized now it was so much easier to be brave and in charge when you had a couple of warriors at your side.

The young guard made a clicking noise as he sucked something out of his teeth and the corner of his mouth curled up like he was trying not to laugh. It made Wren angry. At least one thing Wren had learned was that anger always sounded scarier when you didn’t shout it.

“What’re your names?” he asked, not quite knowing where he was going. He just knew that when he got in trouble, the thing Wren hated most was the questions he had to answer without knowing why they were being asked.

“Gaz,” the older one said. The younger one just stood there staring back with that look on his face. “This here’s Janner.”

Wren’s legs felt hollow and there was a tremble in his stomach that made him want to throw up. He held his hands behind his back to look more in charge. And to hide the fact that they were shaking. Janner sniffed out a laugh through his nose and looked at the ground. Wren’s mind raced for something meaningful to say. A thousand thoughts rushed through his head and jumbled into a huge mass of nothing.

Without raising his head, Janner’s eyes shifted sideways to Gaz. He still had that smirk on his face. And Wren still felt the anger, the need to defend Mama. But everything seemed frozen inside him. Frustration built. He discovered he had no idea how to express what he wanted to say. No way to correct or punish.

“If the governor would be so kind,” Gaz said, “we’ve got a patrol to maintain.”

Wren searched one last time for something. Anything. And came up empty. He nodded his head and even though he tried hard not to, he ended up dropping his gaze to the ground.

“Morning, then,” Gaz said. Wren watched the two pairs of feet swivel and walk away. And just a few moments later he heard Janner mutter, “Little brat.”

It shouldn’t have seemed like such a big deal, but in that moment Wren felt like he’d lost something important. He was supposed to be the Governor. Supposed to be in charge. But even his own guard didn’t respect him. And why should they? He was just a stupid little boy, playing at being king. Tears rose up, and he hated himself all the more for crying.

Wren dug his palms into his eyes for a few moments, tried to push the tears away. It didn’t matter, really. It didn’t matter whether people respected him or even liked him. There was still work to do, and it was his job – his duty – to do it. At least until someone else came along.

He wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, and his nose on his sleeve, and made his way to the main gate. Up ahead he could hear raised voices, not quite loud enough to make out the words but enough to get the gist of the tone. Painter and Luck were already there, taking abuse from one of the guardsmen.

“Look, I’m sorry, but I told you already, nobody’s coming in or out today,” the guard snapped. “And if you don’t quit buzzing around here, I’ll have to juice you both.” He waved his stunrod back and forth for emphasis.

“It’s OK,” Wren called. “I asked them to come.”

The guard turned and saw Wren. It was Lane, one of the guards who’d been on duty when the attack happened, and one of the nicer people in the guard. If he was still posted, that must’ve meant they’d called everyone in. It also explained why Lane wasn’t his usual cheerful self.

“Governor,” Lane said. “No one told me anything about these two.”

“I know, Lane. But it’s alright.”

“Does your mother–” Lane caught himself. “Did you clear it?”

“Yeah, it’s OK,” Wren replied. “You’re not going to get in trouble.”

“Well, do me a favor and tell that to Connor, huh?”

Wren smiled. “I will.”

“Alright,” Lane said. He authorized the gate unlock, opened it, and nodded to Luck and Painter as they entered. “Sorry for giving you boys a hard time, but orders are orders. And it’s been a long night.”

“Hey, it’s your job,” Luck said with a shrug and his quick smile. “We won’t break anything while we’re here, promise.”

Lane said, “Yeah, see to it you don’t. Best to keep a low profile today.” Lane closed the gate behind them and relocked it.

“Thanks, Lane,” Wren said.

“Yep.”

Wren led the two away from the gate. “You guys want to go back over to the side yard?”

“Actually,” Luck said. “You mind if we go in? Sun’s starting to get to me.”

“Um, I guess so. We should probably go around the side though.”

“Yeah, what’s going on with all that? People seem pretty buttoned up today.”

Wren shrugged.

“Old people stuff?” Luck asked.

“Yeah,” Wren answered. He adjusted course and took his companions away from the main entrance, around the eastern edge of the building. They passed the two guards on patrol again, who gave them a quick once-over. Wren kept his head down. He asked, “How’re you guys doing?”

“Can’t complain,” Luck said.

“You can al-al-always complain,” Painter said.

“Well, yeah, I mean, I’ve gotta hang out with you, so that’s like the worst,” Luck replied. He swatted Painter on the arm. “And for some reason I’m having trouble with the ladies lately.”

“Not just l-l-l,” Painter said, the “L” sticking in his mouth. He shook his head once, quickly. “Lately.”

The three walked to a short set of stairs leading down to one of the main building’s lesser used entrances, and Wren tried the door. Locked.

“See what I mean?” Luck said. “Buttoned up.”

“Just a sec,” Wren said. He knew he wasn’t supposed to, but he really didn’t feel like going back around to the front. And these days, it hardly took him a second. He stretched out through the digital, and in the next moment the lock chirped and he pulled the door open. “Don’t tell my mom.”

They entered a hallway, one level below the main floor of the building. It was cool, and quiet, and minimally lit. It always seemed to Wren that the place had been built to hold far more people than were allowed in it now.

They found a room off the hall with some plush chairs and made themselves at home. Luck flopped into a chair in the middle of the room and threw his feet onto a low table. Wren sat across from him, perched forward in his chair so his feet could still touch the floor. Painter didn’t sit, but instead walked slowly about the room, looking around aimlessly.

“How about you, Painter?” Wren asked. “How’s everything with you?”

Painter shrugged. “Alright, I g-guess.”

“Just
alright
?” Luck said. “I wish my life was as
alright
as yours. Any time you wanna trade jobs, P, you just let me know.”

“Mister Sun is real n-n-n-nice. But you know what it’s like.”

“I’m sure I don’t,” Luck said.

Painter frowned a little and went quiet. There was an awkward silence, and Wren wasn’t sure why, or how to fix it. Painter and Luck were both good friends, but they were also a good bit older than Wren, and he was never sure exactly how to behave around them.

“So, what’s up with you, Wren?” Luck said. “Err, I mean, Mister Governor, sir.” He took his feet off the table and bowed forward when he said it, before flopping back again.

“I don’t know. Just the usual, I guess.”

“Just the usual, Painter,” Luck said, looking over at Painter who was now examining some fixture near one corner of the room. He turned back to Wren. “So, that’s like what? Running the city, keeping the guard in check, bringing people back from the dead… you know, just the usual.” Luck said it with a smile and his kind of teasing affection. “Speaking of which, how come you don’t have to be in that meeting, anyway?”

“My mom said I could skip it,” Wren answered. “I don’t think it’s supposed to be important.”

“Aren’t they all immm-imm… -portant?” Painter said from across the room.

Wren shrugged. “I’m sure the Council thinks so. But most of the time they just talk a lot and hardly ever do anything. I don’t know how important something can be if all you ever do is talk about it.”

“That’s one of the reasons you make a good governor, Wren,” Luck said. “You’re a man of action.”

Wren felt embarrassed at the description, but he could tell Luck actually meant it. “I’d like to be,” Wren said. “One day.”

“No reason to wait,” said Luck.

Painter finally wandered over and took a seat next to Luck. He seemed restless, more on edge than usual. Like he had somewhere else to be, and was running late. One of his legs bounced with nervous energy.

“Have you heard from your sister?” Wren asked Painter.

Painter’s attention snapped to Wren, and after a moment he shook his head. “Not since the fuh, fuh, the first time.”

Painter had a younger sister named Snow. Wren had never met or even seen her, but from what he could gather, she and Painter had been very close before he had been taken. After his Awakening, he’d sought her out, expecting a happy reunion. It hadn’t gone the way he’d hoped.

“I’m sure she’ll come around, man,” Luck said. “Just needs time to adjust. We all do.”

Painter shrugged and shook his head again. “Wouldn’t think it’d tuh-take that long.”

“Yeah. But every day we’ve got’s a gift as far as I’m concerned. You can’t let the regulars get you down.”

“Easy to sss – to say.”

“Have you guys been having trouble?” Wren asked. “In the city, I mean.”

Luck glanced over at Painter. Painter just looked at the floor.

“Just the usual,” Luck said, with his quick grin again.

“What happened?” said Wren.

“Nothing really. Just, you know, like I said. Everybody needs time to adjust. Maybe some quarters more than others.”

“It isn’t fair,” Painter said. “We’re citizens just as muh-muh-much as anyone.”

“Yeah,” Luck answered. “But you gotta admit, we’re not just people anymore.”

“We’re better.”

“Well, I don’t know about that. Different, for sure.”

Wren felt overwhelmingly selfish. Yes, he’d had a frightening night, but it hadn’t been the first time he’d been exposed to danger. He hadn’t been harmed, not really. And here his friends were, facing threats every day for something out of their control. They’d done nothing to deserve being taken by the Weir. And they’d never asked to be brought back by Wren. Twice victims. There might not be anything Wren could really do to make it right for Painter and Luck and others like them, but that didn’t mean he shouldn’t try.

“Hey, I’m sorry to do this guys,” Wren said, getting up out of his chair. “But I’ve got a meeting to go to.”