The Deadly Nightshade (29 page)

Chapter 50

With all the strength my broken body can muster, I climb  one of the sentry ladders to the top of the roof of the house I was held up in just hours ago with Connor right behind me, then turn and stand to face the crowd of people who have gathered below. All of Sweetbriar gazes up at us, all of them confused and frightened and anxious. I look out across the town—at the iron gate ruined beyond repair, at the shot up houses, at the blood-soaked cobblestone, at the heap of enemy bodies that have been piled up just outside the entrance, and at the numerous Sweetbriaran bodies that have been covered with blankets. The beautiful community they knew yesterday has been destroyed, and many of their friends and family have been destroyed with it. Never have I seen a more lost, terrified, mournful group of people.

“Where’s Reina?” they cry, looking around for their beloved leader. They break into a loud chatter as they speculate about her whereabouts, asking each other if anybody saw her, if she is hurt, if something bad happened.

“Reina is dead!” I call out. A wave of shock stuns them into silence as my words hang in the air, echoing off the stone walls. “She died just moments ago.”

People begin to wail, to drop to their knees, to cry and panic at the news. For them, these words spell their doom. Reina was the one who led them to safety, and if she is dead then their demise must surely be imminent as well. They have lived so long within their walled haven, within this small-scale replica of civilization, that they can’t survive without someone to take care of them and tell them what to do. And who will do that if Reina is no longer alive?

“Listen to me!” I shout to get their attention. Reina made it look so easy—one scathing glare or clearing of her throat and all eyes were on her. “I know you are scared and I know you are grieving—I am too. We lost a lot of good people today, people we loved, people we cherished, including Reina. But I am here to tell you that you are not without a leader. I was with her when she died, and before she passed she asked me to take her place. Now I know this may come as a surprise to some of—”

Before I know it I have started an uprising. People shout and shake their heads and wave their fists, demanding proof, calling me a liar. I try to wait for them to calm down, but they just continue to shout accusations at me until Connor is forced to yell over them.

“She’s not lying!” he insists. “Why would she make this up?”

“She’s telling the truth!” calls a small voice from the crowd. Everyone quiets down and turns to look at Dr. Lam, who shrinks under the heat of their gazes. “I was with Reina too before she died and she told me the same thing. Nightshade isn’t lying.”

Upon hearing these words, the Sweetbriarans turn back to me with a new light in their eyes—the light of respect. Although this new look doesn’t quite match the level of intensity of the one they used to give to Reina, I am beyond relieved to see them finally on my side. Even in death Reina’s word can unify them. With her endorsement, they have accepted me as their leader.

“But what will we do now?”

“The town is destroyed, the gate is ruined—anyone can get in!”

“The gunfire is bound to draw more people. They’ll find us!”

As they shout their fears at me, I realize I must reassure them that they are safe from any and all danger and that they have no reason to worry, like Reina would do if she were here. But I am not Reina, and I have no idea how to quench the fire that is these people’s fear. Suddenly I have gone from the girl who only ever had to take care of herself to the leader of an entire town, and I am terrified.

But there is a reason why Reina picked me for this job above anyone else. She said I reminded her of herself, that I had many of her best qualities, that I thought just like her and made the same decisions she would make. I may not be Reina, but I am Nightshade, and I am all they’ve got to look to for guidance. I made a promise to their leader that I would make them feel protected and safe, and I cannot betray her. Taking a deep breath, I turn to Connor, who gives me an encouraging nod.

I take a step forward so that I stand on the edge of the roof and raise my voice with all the authority and confidence I can muster. “ ‘I see a beautiful city and a brilliant people rising from this abyss,’ ” I begin, quoting Sydney Carton’s final thoughts in
A Tale of Two Cities
. “I see every man, woman, and child in Sweetbriar happy, healthy, and safe for many years to come. I see those who died for us today looking down upon us from the afterlife with pride in their hearts at seeing how we have moved on and rebuilt our beloved town. And as much as it hurts, as dark as this day is for us, as much suffering as we will go through before the pain subsides, I assure you we
will
move on and we
will
rebuild. We will not let the deaths of those whose lives were lost today be in vain. They died so we could survive and live as peacefully as possible—that was their gift to us, and we must not take it for granted. So believe me when I say Sweetbriar is
not
lost and this is
not
the end of all that you have known. No, this is just the beginning. Roman’s gang may have tried to destroy us, but we have proven Sweetbriarans are not to be trifled with and in the face of danger we
will
fight back. We are
all
survivors. And we
will
survive.”

Below me, the townspeople erupt into whoops and hollers and shouts of praise. They clap their hands and pump their fists and embrace each other joyously. I grin as I look down upon my people and watch them celebrate their victory, taking in the sight of each smiling face. In the corner of my eye, I see Connor take a few steps forward to stand at my side. He takes my hand in his, and when I look up at him he is grinning too. As I stare at the remnants of my town and feel the warmth of the first wind of spring upon my skin, I think of the person I was nine months ago and how much has changed since then—how much
I
have changed. And all of it because of the boy whose fingers are interlaced with mine, who befriended me despite all odds, who taught me how to care for someone other than myself; because of the woman who led Sweetbriar before me, who brought her people victory when all seemed lost and died happily knowing they would be taken care of; because of the preacher who gave his life to save mine and was finally reunited with his family in the end; because of the lieutenant who loved me more than I will ever know; and because of each and every single one of these people who helped return me to life.

I am Nightshade. I am nineteen years old. And for the first time in my life, I am not alone.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Justine Ashford is a student of English and Creative Writing at the University of Pennsylvania. Her work has been published in
Celebrity High Magazine
,
The F-Word
, and
Vox Humana
and she is the author of a collection of short stories entitled
Toys of Misfortune
.
The Deadly Nightshade
is her debut novel.