Wings - Page 36/43

“Not everyone knows what Haze looks like,” Ash says quietly. “They probably thought it was milk mixed with some other harmless ingredient.”

“Here’s what I don’t get about Wings,” Evangeline says. “I understand why Purian Rose wants to give people the retrovirus, but why did he add Haze and Night Whisper to it as well? Where do they fit in?”

“Drinking crushed Night Whisper puts people into a hypnotic state,” Elijah says quietly. “They’d do whatever Purian Rose says.”

“Unless they happen to be a Dacian,” Ash adds darkly. “Didn’t Giselle say her people have a natural tolerance to Night Whisper, so it wouldn’t work on them?”

“That’s probably why he sent them all to the Tenth,” I say.

“But why does he need to use a mind-control drug on the Pilgrims? Those creeps already do everything he says,” Beetle adds.

“Many people attending the public ceremonies won’t be Pilgrims; they’re just regular citizens,” Mother says. “In order for his One Nation plan to work, he has to get the citizens thinking like his truly devoted followers.”

Roach sits back in her chair. “It’s cunning. People will get addicted to the Haze, so they’ll keep going back for more.”

“The retrovirus will change them into hybrids,” Day says.

“And the crushed Night Whisper will make them mindless puppets, willing to follow his every command,” Elijah adds.

“Everyone would think the same, look the same, a whole country in his image,” I say. “One faith, one race, one nation, under His Mighty.”

“Fragg,” Ash says.

“When’s the ceremony?” Evangeline asks.

I look at the digital screen, which is running a report on the ceremony. “Two days.”

We all look at each other, letting it sink in. Two days until Purian Rose unleashes the retrovirus onto the population. Two days to transplant Theora’s heart into Evangeline and somehow get her to the Golden Citadel. Two days and the victors of this war will be decided.

Two days.

I stand up. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get prepared.”

30.

ASH

THE ELEVATOR DOORS SLIDE OPEN and we step into Emissary Bradshaw’s private operating room. Amy quietly moves about the room, turning on the lights. The room is surprisingly small but well equipped, with all the latest gadgets and machines. There’s an unpleasant antiseptic smell, which stings my nostrils.

Day and Natalie assist Dr. Craven and Yolanda as they prep for surgery, and I place the glass jar on a nearby counter. Evangeline lies down on the operating table and anxiously plays with her hair. Everyone else is upstairs, waiting for us in Patrick’s penthouse. I sit beside Evangeline and take her hand in mine.

“You don’t have to do this,” I say to her.

“Yes I do.” She gazes up at me with glimmering black eyes. Her dark hair is pooled across her pillow, framing her beautiful, angular face. “I want to help, Ash, and I have less to lose than you.”

She lightly presses a hand to my chest and my heart tremors under her touch, my stomach clenching. Desire aches through me, and I quickly force it deep, deep down inside me. Evangeline’s the only person in this room who truly understands what it’s like not to have a heartbeat; she knows how it would destroy me to lose mine again. Natalie looks at us and smiles, but there’s worry in her blue eyes. I gently remove Evangeline’s hand from my chest. Dr. Craven and Yolanda stroll over to us.

“Are you ready, Evangeline?” Dr. Craven asks.

She nods confidently, but her hand finds mine again.

“There’s no guarantee this is going to work,” Yolanda says. “Even if the heart isn’t rejected, the only way we’ll know for certain it’s worked is when Purian Rose touches you.”

I recall the moment, several months ago during history class, when Natalie and I accidentally bumped heads when we bent to retrieve her dropped pen. The brief touch was all it took to activate my heart.

“I understand,” Evangeline says.

I lightly squeeze her hand. “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

She gives me a nervous smile. I head over to Natalie, quickly kissing her on the forehead, before heading upstairs with Amy. Natalie and Day stay in the hospital to assist Dr. Craven and Yolanda.

We find everyone on the balcony outside Patrick’s penthouse. Elijah is sitting precariously on the narrow balustrade, his tail hanging lazily over the side as he gazes across the city. From here I can see the famous domed roof of the Golden Citadel and nearby the shard-shaped building that’s currently home to the Sentry government. A million voices ring out in prayer across Centrum, all in worship of Purian Rose, the sound reverberating through my bones. It’s easy to see how people become intoxicated by it. It is comforting. On the billboard-sized digital screens built into all the skyscrapers are commercials for the Cleansing ceremony in two days’ time. Two days. Fragg. Two days and this will be over one way or another.

Elijah rubs a tired hand over his face. He looks exhausted, and I know it’s not just from a lack of sleep. Grief is taking its toll too. It’s exhausting being sad all the time. I know how he feels. I could happily crawl into bed and never wake up again, given half the chance. I don’t want to constantly remember why my heart hurts so much.

It appears Lucinda feels the same way, given the fact that she’s curled up in a ball on one of the plush balcony seats, fast asleep, the cool breeze rustling her cropped black hair. Garrick is slumped in one of the other leather chairs, clutching his stomach. Nearby, the adults talk quietly to each other. Occasionally, Sigur glances toward the door, as if expecting Dr. Craven to walk through, but the operation will take a few hours. Beetle is leaning against a gold pillar, smoking a roll-up. Amy and I join him.

“You’re not going to watch the operation?” he says.

“I’ve seen enough blood for one day,” I reply, plucking the cigarette from him and taking a puff before giving it back.

“What are we going to do about Emissary Bradshaw?” Beetle says. “People will notice he’s missing.”

I glance at Amy.

“I’ll tell the guards he’s sick, then make a few phone calls and cancel his appointments,” she says. “I was Patrick’s personal assistant, among other things; it won’t seem suspicious that I’m calling them.”

“That should keep the guards off our backs for a few days,” Beetle says, taking another drag of his cigarette. “So how exactly are we going to get Evangeline and Purian Rose together in the same room?” The question is pitched to everyone on the balcony.

“How about the Cleansing ceremony?” General Buchanan suggests. A light breeze drifts over the balcony, ruffling his wavy blond hair. “Purian Rose is supposed to be attending the event in Rose Plaza.”

“The place will be swarming with guards,” Roach says.

She heads inside and returns a few minutes later with a portable com-screen, placing it on the table next to Sigur. We all converge around it. On the screen is a map of Rose Plaza, with green, yellow and red lights blinking on it.

“The green dots on the roofs must be MGTs. Machine gun turrets,” General Buchanan explains when we all look blankly at him. “We had those in Black City to shoot down any Nordins who tried to fly over the wall. Garrick and I can override them.”

Natalie’s mom points toward the yellow dots. Her black hair has been swept back into a tight bun, highlighting her painfully thin face. “The yellow dots must be where the Sentry guards will be positioned around the plaza. But I suspect there will be a separate squad roaming through the crowd.”

“If things kick off, we’ll just use the MGTs to take them out,” Garrick says.

“You can’t go shooting into a crowd of innocent people,” I reply. “Purian Rose might not care about their lives, but I do.”

General Buchanan nods. “I agree with Ash. We can’t do that.”

“Yeah, our best bet is to use disguises,” Beetle says. “We’ll blend in with the other citizens. There’s going to be a crapload of people there. The guards can’t keep tabs on everyone.”

“What about the red dots on the stage?” I say.

“They’re Purian Rose’s bodyguards,” Amy says.

“They’re going to be the biggest problem,” I say. “They might recognize us when we’re up on the stage.”

“It’s risky, mate, but we don’t have many other options,” Beetle says. “All we have to do is get Evangeline to Purian Rose before they stop her.”

“You make it sound so easy,” I drawl, and he smirks.

We discuss our plan for the next few hours, working out the details, although the whole time my mind is on Evangeline and the operation. Everything rests on its success.

“It’s not enough to get Purian Rose to declare a cease-fire; we have to get the country to turn against the Sentry government so they don’t put another one of those assholes in power,” Roach says, glancing at Emissary Buchanan, who ignores the jibe.

“We’ll tell them about Wings,” I say. “But we’ll need to get the evidence to the news stations. Who can we trust?”

Emissary Buchanan sighs, relenting. “I have contacts at SBN news. We can trust them.”

The balcony door slides open, and everyone stops talking. My heart leaps up into my mouth. Natalie and Day step onto the balcony. Their clothes are covered in Evangeline’s blood, their hair glistening with sweat.

“Well?” I say.

Natalie gives a small nod. “It seems to have worked, but Yolanda said the next twenty-four hours are crucial. Evangeline could still reject it.”

“Can I see her?” Elijah asks.

Natalie nods. “She’s conscious.”

Elijah leaves the balcony and Natalie turns to me, a mischievous look in her eye.

“Someone has a crush,” she says.

A knot of jealousy twists in my gut at the thought of Elijah and Evangeline together, but I force it aside, knowing it’s stupid to feel jealous. I have no claim over Evangeline. Besides, I’d rather Elijah focus his attention on her than on Natalie.

The rest of us head inside. I follow Natalie to our bedroom and slump down on the bed while she takes a quick shower. I close my eyes for what seems like a second, but when I open them, it’s dark outside. Natalie isn’t in the room.

I rub the sleep out of my eyes, then go in search of her. I find her in the library with her parents. It’s an oval room, the walls covered floor to ceiling with books. General Buchanan is by the open window, smoking a cigarette, and Natalie and her mom are sitting in the red leather chairs beside the white marble fireplace. On a table between them is Polly’s file, the photographs scattered across the mahogany table. Natalie turns, sensing me. She waves me over, and I take a seat beside her.

“It didn’t really sink in earlier, with everything that was going on. But Polly was like Purian Rose, right?” Natalie says to her mom. “She had some Darkling and Lupine in her?”

Emissary Buchanan nods faintly. Flames dance in her pale blue eyes from the fire roaring in the hearth. “We realized it at the first ultrasound. Dr. Craven couldn’t find a heartbeat, and I thought . . .” She sighs sadly. “But then he spotted her fangs.”

“What?” Natalie splutters.

“They develop in utero in the first few weeks after conception,” Emissary Buchanan explains. “It was apparent then that she wasn’t normal.”

I wince at the word. Normal. Natalie’s father stares out the window, one hand thrust in his pocket, the other holding the cigarette.

“Craven ran some more tests after she was born and confirmed what she was,” Emissary Buchanan continues. “Thankfully, because she was predominantly human, we could pass her off as one of us, with a few moderations.”

“Moderations?” Natalie asks.

“You neutered her,” I say.

Emissary Buchanan nods. “She wore veneers. No one suspected a thing. Lots of Sentry girls have cosmetic dental work done at a young age.”

“Did Polly know what she was?” Natalie asks.

“She didn’t know she was different until you were born,” Emissary Buchanan says. “She thought every little girl didn’t have a heartbeat and craved blood. But then you came along and she realized there was something wrong with her. Your father and I explained to her what she was, and who her real father was, but that she had to keep it a secret.”

“So she always knew?” Natalie sinks back in her chair, her blond curls framing her face. “What about her heart? Surely someone noticed she didn’t have a heartbeat.”

“You didn’t,” Emissary Buchanan says.

Natalie flushes a little.

“People generally don’t go around checking each other’s pulses, Natalie. Why would they? Besides, she looked human,” Emissary Buchanan says.

“And we made sure Craven did all her medical examinations, so he could fake the results,” General Buchanan says from across the room. “No one suspected a thing.”

“Did Purian Rose know she was his daughter?” Natalie says.

“I told him she was Jonathan’s,” Emissary Buchanan replies.

Over by the window, General Buchanan’s expression hardens. He takes a drag of his cigarette. Smoke spills out of his lips in a long, twisting ribbon.