Unworthy: Marked to die. Raised to survive. (21 page)

“What she is is irrelevant!”

Suddenly the panic disappears from her voice and she is pleading with him. “Does she know who I am? Please tell me that she can’t identify me.” I’m not following this conversation at all.

“Vicki! Stop!” he hisses into the monitor.

“I won’t have any more to do with this, Alex. You’re on your own,” she says with finality.

I crouch down next to him, and pull the monitor around to face me. “What did you find out about me, Vicki? What do you know?”

Her image looks back at me for an instant. “How are you even alive?”

I shake my head, uncomprehending. “Is this about my mark? The fact that I’m Unworthy?”

“You really don’t know?” she asks, slowly, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. “You’re not just playing me?”

“Vicki, please tell me. If you’ve found something out, please tell me.”

She nods, her anger dissipating, although she is still hesitant when she says, “Okay. I ran your DNA, as you know - ”

The device crackles in Alex’s hands and the screen goes blank. Tendrils of smoke begin to rise from its casing and he drops it onto the stones. Both of us stand, the wreckage of the box at our feet.

“Well, I’m
so
sorry about that,” a voice at my elbow drawls. Even before I turn I know whose voice it is.

“Elyssa,” I say, and turn to find the point of a knife resting on my collarbone.

“Don’t move, idiot,” she flicks her eyes at Alex.

“It’s alright, Elyssa,” he replies calmly, and raises his palms to her to show his submission. “We’re on our way to the General right now. You can escort us if you like.”

“Escort you! Don’t you wish!” she cackles.

“What are you going to do with us?” I ask.

“What I should have done at the start, Yarco. Kill you,” she smiles, her head tipping to the side. “And you,” she says to Alex, “are going to get what all traitorous scum deserve.” I can’t help but notice that she’s keeping her voice very low. She doesn’t want to be heard.

“It’s alright, Elyssa,” Alex is raising his voice. “You can take us to the guard post. We’ll talk to the Lieutenant and tell him how clever you are.”

“You maybe,” she hisses at him. “But not her. I’m going to carry out my orders NOW.” She returns her attention to me, turning the blade’s point gently. I stand stock still and draw a ragged breath.

The noise of bootfalls on the asphalt make her look up towards the end of the alleyway, where three uniformed soldiers have halted and are coolly regarding the scene in front of them.

“What’s going on here?” one of them asks sharply.

Elyssa huffs in frustration, and lowers the blade, sliding its flat down my arm. “Captain Elyssa Greene, Tracker. I caught these two inside the perimeter.”

The soldiers come closer, drawing their dazers in unison. I expect Alex to say something, but he remains silent, watching their approach.

“Who are they? Firstborn?” the soldier asks.

“No. This one’s a traitor,” Elyssa says, cuffing Alex across the head. He lets his hat fall on the ground.

“What about her?” another soldier points his dazer in my direction. I struggle to stare at him calmly the way Alex has.

“This one’s a hubbite,” Elyssa says maliciously, and spits at the ground near my feet.

“Hubbite?” one of them echoes. They only hesitate an instant before snapping into action and train their weapons on me. One moves round behind me and grabs my arms roughly. The second circles Alex warily.

“Just a moment, Soldier,” Elyssa interjects. “She’s my prisoner. My orders are to kill her.”

“Not here, Captain,” the third Polisborn meets her challenge. “Not within the Perimeter. They’re coming to the guard post.”

She glares at the soldier and forcibly sheaths her knife. “I’ll speak to your superiors then. I’m coming with you,” she informs him, and he shrugs.

Although the hands that pin my elbows to my backpack are rough and unkind, I’m grateful for them. They are all that stand between me and the knife-toting madwoman who is desperate to cut me.

“Don’t look so smug,” she sneers in my face. “Your luck won’t hold forever.” She places a splayed hand on my chest and gives me a sharp shove, sending me off balance and into my captor. He twists me firmly to the side and applies a band to my wrists that immediately tightens, giving no slack. He starts me moving from the alleyway. A glance over my shoulder tells me that the tracker is directly behind me, followed by Alex and the two other guards.

I only catch a glimpse of his face, but it looks grim. He hasn’t said a word since the three soldiers showed up, and I don’t know whether to find comfort in this or to despair. Is he silent because he sees this turn of events as positive, or simply because he is powerless?

The soldiers march us from the alleyway and along the busy road. I vaguely notice vans, trucks and many motorbikes. I receive suspicious looks which border on hostility from anyone we pass, either in Polis or Firstborn uniform, and drop my eyes to the pavement. After that I concentrate on putting one boot in front of the other. The last thing I want to do is stumble and give my guard an excuse to be rough.

The walk isn’t far. We stop outside a long, low building with a flat grey exterior and a flat roof. It has the same feel as the guard post at the Perimeter, the look of a bunker, but this one is much larger. At the entrance, the first soldier explains they have two prisoners, then each of them turn and look directly into a screen on our right, and the monstrous piece of wrought iron barring our way slides back.

In the dimly lit hallway I am steered to the left and then down a flight of stairs to a lower level. I hear more steps behind me and although I don’t dare twist my head to look, I know that Alex is still there. The temperature drops and an earthy smell fills my nostrils. I realise with a feeling of dread that we are being taken underground. The passageway is narrow and only just allows for the height of a man. We are passing door after metal door, one after another, and I feel the cold sensation of fear starting to wash over me. Lighting is supplied by electric domes set into the wall every few metres. It’s not enough. The passage is dank and creepy.

Ahead of me I make out another soldier. She holds open one of the thick metal doors. When we reach her, my captor turns me without a word. I feel the female soldier’s hands at my wrists and the binder is gone from them. She roughly removes my backpack from my shoulders and my arm twists painfully. The one who brought me from the alleyway is in front of me, and he reaches up to take a few hairs from my head. He yanks them away from my scalp and the shock makes me cry out. I put my fingers above my ear where the pain is smarting and look into his eyes. I see nothing there but disinterest.

Chapter Twenty-Five

He spins me round and shoves me forward, and I stumble into the dimness of a tiny cell with grey concrete walls and a solid concrete floor. It’s so narrow it feels like being entombed. I feel Alex pushed in after me, and when I turn I hear the door clang shut and the sound of a heavy bolt drawn across on the other side.

This far underground the only light comes from a naked bulb glowing dimly on its cord above us.

I lean my forehead against the roughness of the concrete and close my eyes. I press my palms against its coolness and feel the shaking begin, starting in my hands and spreading up my arms. Panic. I press on the wall harder, willing myself to control it.

“Breathe out,” Alex says, a voice at my shoulder. “Five times.” I don’t open my eyes, but I try to comply, forcing air through my constricted throat. He counts for me, and by the time I’ve reached five I do feel calmer. I open my eyes and look at him.

His face is drained of all colour, a stark contrast to his dark features. Despite this, his pale eyes regard mine steadily. An unflinching gaze is something I have come to expect from him, but this time it is far from unfeeling. He regards me softly, with so much emotion in his eyes that I hardly know where to look. A face that until now I have only seen guarded, seems to be laid bare, naked without its defences.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his head shaking but his eyes not leaving my face, imploring me to forgive him. They glisten only a few inches from mine, and I notice for the first time that they aren’t colourless at all. A ring of gold circles his pupils; a sunburst breaking through a grey dawn.

I blink and remember where I am. He makes a tiny movement towards me, and his hand reaches hesitantly towards mine. Before I’ve even thought about it, I’ve closed the gap and buried my face in his chest. I feel his arms wrap themselves across my back, pressing me tightly against him.

His hand moves to my head, cradling it against his shoulder, and I feel a stillness settle on both of us. I inhale the smell of him through the cotton of his T-shirt, and it pushes back the dankness of the concrete cell. My palm pressed against his shirt, I can feel his heart thudding, reassuringly steady. As I cling to him, I sense him gaining strength from the embrace too.

“I’m so sorry, Arcadia,” he repeats. “I’ve done a terrible job of protecting you,” he mumbles into my hair, the despair in his voice plain. “It’s my fault you’re in here. You shouldn’t be here. I should have taken you straight to the General. I should have known that Elyssa wouldn’t just slink back home with her tail between her legs. I should have killed her when I had the chance -” The words tumble out.

I push away from his embrace and place my fingertip gently on his lips, silencing the flow of regrets. In his astonishment he stops speaking, frozen in place. I wonder whether I have overstepped the mark when he draws my hand away and fear floods in to fill the gap along with coolness where his body heat warmed me only a moment before. I look down and swallow, but he forces my eyes back to his when he traces his thumb along my jawbone. I see his intention clearly written there. The other hand in my hair, he bends to kiss me and my stomach somersaults. The kiss is soft, and I find myself beginning to tremble all over.

“You’re cold,” he whispers, pulling himself away from me and removing his jacket.

I shake my head, mainly in denial but also to clear the fuzziness which has crept into it in the last few moments. “I’m okay,” I say, but my teeth chatter and I clamp my jaw shut.

“You’re not very convincing,” he says, and makes me put it on. His eyes don’t meet mine and the tension in his jaw betrays his uneasiness about the kiss.

The moment has passed and I feel a confusing mix of relief and disappointment. Relief because I have more important issues to deal with right now, but the truth is that all I want to do is feel his touch again.

My trembling knees threaten to give way. I slide down the wall and he sits opposite me, so close that our bent legs are touching. We sit for a moment in silence. I try to ignore the tingle I feel in my left calf, resting casually against his. Bringing my mind back to where we are and why we are here helps me to focus.

“What will they do with me?”

He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.

“A hubbite in the Polis? It’s not allowed. Ever. When they run your DNA and find you are neither Firstborn nor Pureborn, there will be no questions asked and no trial offered. You’ll be executed immediately.”

He’s definitely the same Polis soldier who picked me up five days ago, kiss or no kiss. I find that this irritates me. I realise that I was expecting, or at least hoping for, tenderness from him, and have only myself to blame.

“Well, don’t sugar-coat it for my sake,” I mutter. I find it curious that his delivery of my situation is what bothers me, more than my fate.

He is quiet, considering his answer carefully. He then picks up my hand, and intertwines his fingers with mine. As angry as I am trying to be with him, my stomach betrays me by performing flips again.

“Arcadia, from the moment I met you I have had this crazy urge to burst the bubble in which you live and drag you into reality - into
my
world. It’s unforgiveable of me and I owe you an apology.”

“You’re apologising to me for being honest?”

“I suppose I am. If I lived in a world with a rosy sky and a hopeful future, I think I’d want to stay wrapped in it forever.”

A derisive noise escapes my throat. He can’t believe my world had a rosy sky? “You sound jealous.”

He shrugs and a lopsided smile plays on his lips, to match mine, and just like that I find myself enfolded in the caress of his eyes again.

“Maybe jealousy isn’t the word exactly - but I won’t pretend I haven’t wondered what it would be like to live as a hubbite without knowing the truth, sheltered from reality. Ignorant bliss.”

“Bliss,” I echo in wonder, but I’m smiling. I can’t help it. “Believe me, my life was far from blissful. Perhaps the other hubbites though…” I think about them for a second and experience a twinge of the emotion he’s just described. A hint of jealousy for what seems to be an easy life drifts through my thoughts and I feel the pull of its appeal. Then I shake my head. “No, Alex,” I say. “Don’t apologise for taking the blindfold away. I’ll always choose truth over a façade, every time.”

He tips his head in acknowledgement, and I’m relieved to notice that the wall hasn’t returned behind his eyes. I suddenly realise that I’ve not wondered about him.