The Pip shoves by me. “Wait in the preparation room,” he says, pointing down the hall. “Go. Go.”
I don’t know what room he’s talking about, but it doesn’t matter. I scram the second he gives me permission. But right before I’m clear, he grabs my elbow. His features have been smoothed down so much in the Keeper treatments, his nose is barely a bump on his face.
“Nothing funny,” he says. His gaze lifts, and mine follows to the black camera embedded in the ceiling.
I’m being watched.
This hall is much the same as the previous level, though along the wall runs a tapestry, paint on silk. Men on horseback with pointed sticks driving monsters towards a ravine. Creatures falling into an abyss. And then men in long maroon cloaks, holding chains attached to the necks of women heavy with children.
A knot forms in my throat and I reach forward, the urge to rip it from the wall overwhelming. I grab the corner, and clench the smooth fabric in my fist. But before I can tear it, something catches my eye.
On the wall underneath the tapestry someone has drawn a link of chains—a crude sketch in black ink. The chain is broken in the middle.
The Governess’s voice—Azalea’s voice—is fresh in my ears. I was a little like you once. Always looking for a way to break the chain.
I don’t know if she was once the property of the men in this house—maybe the mayor’s father, or his father before him. I don’t know if she’s the one who’s drawn this. But it gives me hope all the same.
I straighten the tapestry, careful to keep my body between the secret message and the camera on the ceiling behind me.
“You must be one of my new acquisitions.”
I startle and spin. Before me stands a slender man with a square jaw and a narrow mouth. He’s older than his dark, slick hair and smooth skin might suggest; I see it in his eyes, which are squinting, even in the soft light, giving the impression he’s one of those people who’s always plotting something.
The mayor. It must be. No one else would refer to me that way.
I glance over the casual black robe he wears, cinched loosely around his waist. It reveals too much of his form beneath. A blush rises in my cheeks.
“I just got here.” I don’t know why, but I can’t meet his gaze. I feel it, though, searing through me.
“Well then. Welcome,” he says coolly. “You’re finding your room comfortable, I trust.”
Hard to remember, being as I was passed out and paralyzed most of the night.
“It’s all right,” I say. It’s strange, thinking I have my own room. I’ve never had my own room before. Even in the mountains I shared a tent with the family and a cot with Nina.
He’s closer than I like, or maybe the hallway is too narrow. Either way, I’m too crowded.
“Such an interesting face.” He lifts his cold hand and touches my cheek. There’s something about him that makes me feel small.
I turn away. “So you’re the mayor, I guess.”
“I guess.” He smiles. Perfect, white teeth.
“Amir’s father.”
“Ah.” He seems to realize how I’ve come to his home now. “You must be the girl who barks like a dog.”
He gestures down the hall, and I find myself falling into step beside him.
“My son was quite taken by you.” His lake-blue eyes sparkle, and it occurs to me Amir doesn’t look much like him. “Some might think it’s extravagant to purchase a girl for a child.”
“Thought crossed my mind,” I say, trying to sound smart, like him. “But who am I to judge? If you want to spoil your kids, that’s your business.”
“You are wild, indeed,” he says. “I’m almost regretting not attending the auction myself. We might have fought over you.”
I close my mouth. A shadow of regret passes over his face, and he grows quiet, clearly thinking of something. I don’t interrupt him.
“There is only one,” he continues after a while. “Just Amir.” He sighs. “Maybe I do spoil him.”
The hall has opened to a large room, ripe with exotic perfumes and soft music, walled by mirrors on all sides. Strewn across the floor are fancy pillows of all different colors, and atop them a dozen or more girls are lounging. When they see us, they squeal and jump to their feet, a flurry of textiles and patterns, and crowd around the mayor.
I’m surprised he has only one kid. From the looks of things, he’s not spending too many nights sleeping alone.
A girl who looks a little like Straw Hair with her yellow locks pushes to the front. She’s not much older than me and is stroking her flat stomach as if she’s just eaten a huge meal.
“It’s a boy, Mayor,” she says. “It’s a boy. I know it. I feel it.”
“Wonderful,” he says, with barely a second glance.
She is pushed aside by a girl with long gold earrings and skin that’s been painted to match. I think I recognize her from my first week at the Garden, but she wasn’t such an odd color then.
“Mayor, there’s something I’d like to show you,” she says in a sultry voice.
But he points to a girl standing near the back. One who looks no more than twelve or thirteen years old, who hasn’t grown into her body yet. She’s picking at her fingernails.
“You,” he says. “Join me for a walk, won’t you?”
She gives a little nod and takes his hand.
It’s sickening. She looks like a child beside him. She is a child.
“Figures,” one of them whispers. “Of course he’d take the carrot.”
“The what?” I ask.
“Her father just traded her last week,” says the girl with gold skin. “Part of some big business deal. He got the mayor’s attention by dangling a carrot out in front of his face. Get used to it. Happens all the time.”
Disappointed, the other girls return to the floor to laze about.
“Enjoy your stay with us,” the mayor says to me on the way out. “You are indeed a fine prize for my son.”
I am speechless.
CHAPTER 13
THE CATS WAIT TO pounce until the mayor’s footsteps have gone silent.
“What’s that smell?” asks one of them, a girl with a purple streak in her hair.
“I think it’s fresh meat,” says another with an intricate pattern of tattoos winding up her arms. “Yes, definitely fresh meat.” She wafts a hand in front of her face to clear the air.
I catch my reflection in one of the wall mirrors. My curly black hair is messy from sleep, and my eye makeup is smeared a bit. My white dress is wrinkled. It looks like I’ve just rolled out of bed, though not in the way they’re thinking.
“How’d you like me to break your nose?” I ask Tattoos.
Her little smile flips upside down as she scoots back to make room for me.
“You must be new to the city,” says Purple Hair. “I remember when my brother brought me from my little waste of a town in the outliers.…” She forces a laugh. “If he hadn’t tricked me and told me we were going to the fair in Anders, I would have scratched his eyes out. Traitor.”
“Didn’t turn out too bad, did it?” asks Tattoos.
Purple Hair shakes her head, then narrows her eyes at me. “What town did they haul you in from? Somewhere up north, am I right?” She laughs again, like this should be funny.
“No town,” I say.
Tattoos’s brows rise. “Born and raised city? I hadn’t heard the mayor was pulling stock from the locals. The census must be low.”
“Free,” I tell them both clearly. “And wild.” I smile as fiercely as I can.
I kneel on a flat blue pillow and snag one of the little treats on a silver platter in the center of the room. It’s sweet and warm, creamy too. I sort of hate that it’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. But the memory of the young girl walking out of the room hand in hand with the mayor makes the food curdle in my stomach. Just a few more years and that could be Nina.
The guilt is thick on my skin, weighing me down. I should h
ave tried to stop them, but what good would it do? It wouldn’t change anything.
The girls stare at each other, then at me. There’s no mistaking the jealousy there.
“Lucky you,” says Tattoos. “You’ve got it made.”
I don’t ask what she means.
“I have to get out of here,” I say, more to myself. This place is a palace of nightmares. I know they’ll probably tell on me, but I don’t care. I’m already sold. Things can’t get much worse.
“Sure, all right,” says the girl with the purple streak. One bony shoulder sticks out from the neck of her shirt. When she sees I’m serious, her eyebrows hike up beneath side-swept bangs. “Why would you want to?”
“That’s not your problem,” I say.
“There are walls,” says Tattoos. “Walls ten stories high. And Watchers manning the gates. And sensors all over.”
“You don’t know,” says Purple Hair. “You haven’t been off this level since you were brought here.”
“Neither have you,” the other argues.
“But I heard the mayor talking about it. In bed.” Purple Hair smirks.
The blush rises in Tattoos’s face. “Funny,” she says. “The mayor never has the energy to speak after I’m done with him.”
A groan rises in my throat. These girls have no idea how pathetic they sound, each fighting for a position as the most valuable slave. They’ve forgotten, or maybe they never learned, that their worth is not determined by how much a man wants them. If I weren’t so preoccupied with getting out of there, I’d feel sorry for them.
A house Pip enters and begins to trade out the trays for something new. Before he can take ours, I cram another two of the cream treats in my mouth and rise. Obviously I’m not getting anywhere with these two. They continue tossing insults as I exit the room.
* * *
THE SCANNERS ON THE ceiling track me as I emerge the way I came. It’s quiet here, but for the buzzing as they shift positions. I’m surprised I was allowed to leave at all, but none of the serving Pips raised a finger to stop me. I keep checking over my shoulder to make sure they’re not following.
The doors on either side of the hallway are all locked. Finally I come across one that’s already cracked.
The room is small, making the round bed in the center seem overly large. A centerpiece, with its cushy red blanket and mountain of pillows. On the opposite wall is a window, and I race to it. Outside the sun is beginning to set, reflecting off the gleaming green buildings. We’re high. Too high to climb down. I place my hand on the glass lightly, hating this thin barrier separating me from my freedom.
And then the alarm sounds.
The high ringing stabs into my temples, and I jump back. Behind me, the heavy wooden door slams shut, as if moved by a ghost. Fear grips me, and I do the only thing I can think of: I dive under the bed.
My breaths are heavy and too loud. Footsteps patter outside the room and come to a stop outside my door. As it pushes inward I see the small black slippers of a house Pip.
And then his shiny, made-up face as he lowers.
“Nice try,” he says in a high voice with a little pip. “If you think you’re the first to have tried to go out the window, you’d be a fool.”
“I was just admiring the view,” I say.
“The last one to admire the view got a nice close look at the ground below,” he says, snatching my hair and pulling me forward. He’s surprisingly strong for how delicate he looks. “That’s when we installed the alarms.”
There’s not much to say to that.
* * *
I’M THROWN BACK INTO the room I woke up in. For a moment I just stare at the door, willing it to reopen, but it does not. There aren’t any windows here. Just four walls adorned with strange rotating pictures of shapes: triangles and squares and circles. They make me dizzy. I wonder who thought this was art. Looks like a three-year-old drew them.
Frustrated, I turn, but my eyes stop on the bed.
A man is stretched out on the covers.
“Mr. Greer.” The blood inside me has turned to ice.
He sits up fast, and I fall back into the door, surprised. He’s not wearing his head wrapping today, and the red scars across his cheek are bold and angry. Most of the Virulent marks are fairly neat, but his is jagged, as if someone carved it with a sharp fork.
With a groan, he rubs his temples with his thumbs.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
It takes him a while to answer.
“Checking on you. You were so … boring the last time we met.”
I was drugged actually, but I don’t correct him because it’s clear he’s still drunk. The whites of his eyes are bloodshot, and as he rises he stumbles and catches himself on the bedframe.
“You should go walk that off,” I tell him.
“I can think of better things to do,” he says.
There’s evil in him. Dark, ugly, evil. It makes me shake down to my very boots. Carefully, I step to the side, and he follows. Mirroring me like we are dancing. Then he lunges, and I dodge out of the way.
“Still want to play a hiding game?” He grins and rolls up his sleeves.
We’ve almost traded places—him near the door, me near the bed. I search for something to defend myself with and grab a pillow.
“Spying on me, huh?” I say. My heart is galloping.
“The walls have ears.” He steps closer, and I throw the pillow at him. He bats it out of the way.
“Then I’m sure it’ll get back to the mayor that you’re in here now,” I say. “He got me for his son, you know.”
I hate saying the words, but I’m willing to say almost anything if it keeps him back.
“His son,” Greer spits. “His son. Do you know how many girl children the mayor has had destroyed? More than you can count, I’m sure.”
The words bring a sick feeling to my belly. He stops moving finally and stares at the shapes changing on the wall, mesmerized. I edge past him back to the door, and even though I know it’s still locked, I try the handle again. It doesn’t move.
“He can’t make a male,” says Greer after a long pause. “He lacks the necessary fortitude.”
“Looks like he managed somehow,” I say, trying to keep him talking about something other than me.
“Of course,” he says. “Of course he did. How else could little Amir have been created?”
The truth is plain as day in his face. In his black, beady eyes that match the boy’s almost perfectly.
“There are treatments for that, I’m sure,” I say, delaying.
“Oh surely,” he agrees. My throat ties in knots. I think of the medical exam, the powerlessness I had on that table. It will not happen again.
He turns towards me. “There are treatments, but then word would get out of the mayor’s little problem. The leader of our great city can’t have such a fatal flaw, wouldn’t you agree?”
He’s getting close again. Too close.
“Does the boy know?” I ask.
Greer looks impressed—as if he’s surprised I’m smart enough to have pieced the puzzle together.
He runs his finger down the jagged length of his scar. “A fine payment for services rendered, wouldn’t you say?” The finger moves over his thin lips. “I wasn’t supposed to tell. It slipped out.”
“The walls have ears,” I say, voice trembling.
“Yes,” he says. “But not in the bedrooms. The mayor will have his privacy there.” He spreads his arms. “Here.”
My heart sinks.
“There’s a legend about it, you know,” he says. “About two powerful men sharing one woman. It nearly destroyed the Brotherhood.”
“I’ve heard of it.” My mind flashes to my ma’s old stories of the Red Years.
“She tricked them,” he says. “But she also reminded them of the truth: that a dog may eat a man’s food and sleep in a man’s bed, but that does not make it a man.”
My jaw tightens. He laughs, and
the sound sinks its claws straight into my bones.
“You know Amir’s mother was wild as well. We captured her from the Drylands. She was exotic. Wiry hair, skin like cinnamon. My brother kept her even after she conceived three girls. He just knew she’d give him a boy.” His mouth quirks in a twisted smile. “And she did.”
Greer’s moving closer, stalking me like a predator. The door is firm against my back. I might be able to get by him again, but where would I go?
Blood pumping, I lower, fingers bared like claws. He smiles and loosens the silk tie around his neck.
Just then, the door handle turns, and Amir steps inside.
Greer straightens.
“What are you doing here?” Amir asks him. I’ve never been happier to have that kid around. He’s calmer than the last time I saw him. His face is pasty white, but for an orange smear on his cheek. Looks like he’s gotten a little treat for being such a pain.
“Just making sure your new pet has settled in,” says Greer.
“Oh,” says Amir. He turns to me. “She can’t have any dinner.”
“Why is that?” asks Greer, kneeling before his son. I wonder if the child knows who his real father is. Greer didn’t really answer my question before.
“She was bad earlier. She needs to be punished.”
I cross my arms over my chest.
“I see,” says Greer. “Well you can play with her tomorrow. I’ll be going on a hunting expedition.”
“Where?” I ask, fear cooling my fight.
“Somewhere in the hills, I don’t know. A scout said he found a nest of undocumented females living in the wild.” He rises to meet my eyes. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”
I shake my head, but the words have all dried up inside of me.
Nina. Salma. Tam. Are they safe? There are other families hiding in the mountains, but all I can think of is mine.
Nina, holding hands with the mayor.
Tam, made into a Pip.
I try to shove past them, but something sharp bites my waist. I jump back. The boy has a little silver box, and when he presses it to my skin, it shocks me.
“Bad girl!” he yells.
They slip out the door before I can charge through. And then it is locked again. And I am left alone.