Black City

Gregory whips me across the face with the remaining half. “That just earned you a detention after school, mongrel.”



My cheek stings where he hit me, but I refuse to let my pain show.



“Leave him alone, Greg,” Chris sighs.



“They should never have allowed you to come here,” Gregory says, ignoring his brother. “Things were better before they agreed to let your sort into our schools.”



Before the war ended, I had to be homeschooled by Dad. Those were the days.



“Well, tough,” Beetle interrupts. “Ash is a citizen, the same as you and me, so he’s got to come to this stupid place like the rest of us. It’s the law.”



“Not for long. When Rose’s Law passes, the first thing they’ll do is make sure half-breeds like him in every city are sent to the ghettos with the rest of the nippers, where they belong,” Gregory says, stomping off.



Chris rolls his eyes at me, mouthing “sorry” as he passes.



I touch my stinging cheek and turn back to face the school. A bookish-looking girl with caramel-colored skin, wearing wire-rimmed spectacles and a pristine red beret, walks up the school steps, her long dark hair swishing around her shoulders. She stands beside four empty chairs, her hands held awkwardly in front of her.



“What’s Day doing up there?” Beetle asks.



I quirk an eyebrow. “Why do you care what she’s doing up there?”



“No reason, just saying.” The tips of his ears turn pink.



“Is it because you love her?”



“Shut up.”



“You want to kiss her.”



Beetle punches my arm. “Oww!” he says, shaking his bruised fist.



“Reinforced bones, my friend.” I laugh. There are a few perks to being a twin-blood.



We stand at attention as the Headmaster steps up to the microphone beside Day. Behind him a Sentry flag flutters on the breeze. It has two horizontal stripes, one red, one black, and at its center is a rose emblem, a recent addition to the flag, symbolizing the Purity faith.



“Good morning, school!” the Headmaster’s voice crackles across the town square. He raises his arm in the air, palm facing us, and we all follow suit.



The school begins to chant. “I vow to serve the savior of our great state, Purian Rose—”



I move my lips but don’t say the words. Beetle’s making up his own rude lyrics, and I try not to laugh. I remember Dad’s warning: act like them, don’t stand out, keep your head down. Yeah, easier said than done when you’re a foot taller than everyone else and have a set of deadly-looking fangs. I’ll never fit in.



“I pledge my eternal devotion to the United Sentry States, to uphold the mighty Human Power! To create one state, one race under His Mighty,” the school continues, Gregory speaking loudest of all. “Long live the Sentry!”



The sound of hooves reverberates around the town square, and a moment later, an ornate State carriage drawn by six Cremello horses enters the square from one of the side roads. It drives past the students, who crane their necks to see who the passengers are, although it’s impossible to tell behind the curtained windows. TV cameras pan around to face the carriage, which comes to a halt beside the school entrance. I feel a strange tugging in my chest as I wait to see who’s inside.



The Headmaster beams. “I am delighted to announce that we have some very special guests visiting today. Please give them a warm welcome.”



A footman opens the carriage door, and five people get out. They walk up the school steps.



“I don’t believe it,” Beetle growls under his breath.



The first person is a waspish woman, whom I recognize immediately as Emissary Buchanan, flanked by two older men. They’re dressed in long black robes with a red rose emblem on the chest—the uniform of the Sentry Council. The fourth is a teenage boy, a few years older than me, wearing a crimson military coatee, black trousers and boots—the uniform of the Trackers. On his sleeve are three black stripes indicating his high rank. The other visitor is a blond girl, her back to me, a familiar green jacket slung over her arm. She turns her head, nervously scanning the faces in the crowd, and her blue eyes snag on mine. Her mouth drops open into a perfect O, mirroring my own surprise.



It can’t be her!



6



NATALIE



IT CAN’T BE HIM!



A chilling coldness creeps over my skin as he stares at me across the plaza. What he’s doing here, of all places? He didn’t seem like the going-to-school type. His threat still lingers in my mind. Tell anyone about me, and you’re dead . . . That odd, yanking sensation pulls at my heart again, like it did the last time I saw him.



“You okay?” Sebastian whispers to me.



I nod and plaster a fake smile on my lips, knowing my image is being broadcast to every TV in Black City right now. Slung over my arm is the twin-blood boy’s jacket, and I wish more than anything I hadn’t brought it now, but how was I to know he’d be here?



Across the square is the Boundary Wall. I shudder at the sight of the Darkling guards patrolling the top. Why did Mother agree to let me come here?



There’s a movement to my right. The girl next to me forces a smile. She must be my new rent-a-friend. I turn back to the crowd and discover the twin-blood is still looking at me, his pale lips set in a grim line.



The Headmaster’s metallic voice rings out over the crowd.



“I have the great honor of introducing you to Natalie Buchanan, the Emissary’s daughter. She’ll be joining us as a student today, so please make her feel welcome.” The or else is implied.



My cheeks turn pink as the heat of everyone’s gaze falls upon me, his being the most intense of them all. I hate people looking at me. I wish the ground would open up and swallow me whole.



The clapping dies down, and Mother moves to the microphone. Silence falls over the town square, until all I can hear is the faint static buzzing from the microphone. When Mother speaks, her words aren’t just for the hundreds of students in front of us, but for everyone watching at home too.



“We have all faced difficult challenges as we’ve struggled to rebuild our great nation after the war ended almost one year ago, and no one has suffered more than the people of this city. The Sentry government understands this better than anyone, and we’ve allowed many misdeeds to go unpunished in our efforts to make this transition easier for you. However, the time for leniency is over.”



My eyes find the twin-blood boy in the crowd again, and I’m surprised to see he’s watching me, instead of my mother. He turns his head away. Mother continues her speech, and I pretend to be interested. We must keep up appearances for the press, right?



“You will notice the new addition to your town square.” Everyone’s eyes turn to look at the three crosses looming over them. “Purian Rose believes our compassion for you has allowed this city to be corrupted by sin, and it’s time we purged it out. From now on, any citizen caught guilty of committing a grievous crime against the United Sentry States will be executed.”



There are hushed gasps from the crowd. Mother takes a moment to let her words sink in.



“That’s outrageous!” Juno Jones yells from near the school steps. “What qualifies as a ‘grievous crime against the state’? We all know where this is leading! Before you know it, no one will have the right to free speech. No freedom of the press. We’ll be no better off than the Darklings.”



Mother subtly waves her hand, and like magic, a handful of Sentry guards swoop in on the reporter and drag her down one of the side alleys. Her screams are swiftly muffled. No one else speaks out; no one else dares. Mother gives a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes.



“Of course, in order to help purge the city of this sin, we will need your assistance,” she says. “As such, I am lowering the minimum age to become a Tracker, and invite you all to take the test to see if you are eligible to join them.”



This news is met with mixed responses from the students. Some cheer wildly, but the majority remain mute.



“The Trackers will come to your school next week to run the examination,” she continues. “The test is mandatory for all children between the ages of fifteen and eighteen. Anyone found to have the V-gene will be automatically enlisted to the Trackers. Thank you.”



It takes a moment for people to start clapping, as they’re too stunned to respond. An army of children? What’s Purian Rose thinking? Even during the war’s darkest days, children were always kept safe from combat.



“I thought the war was over,” I whisper to Sebastian. “Why does he need more Trackers?”



He doesn’t say anything, but his silence speaks volumes. He knows something’s going on and is keeping it from me.



The bell rings, and the students quietly file into the school, giving the three crosses a wide berth.



“I’ll meet you here straight after school,” Sebastian says, before escorting Mother back to the carriage.



The reporters hurriedly pack up their equipment, clearly shaken by what happened to Juno Jones when she was dragged away and beaten. A crisp wind cuts across the square, stirring up the thin layer of ash that’s settled on the ground. I shiver and slip on the twin-blood boy’s jacket and search for him in the crowd, but he’s gone.



7



ASH



I ENTER THE SCHOOL behind the other students, Beetle by my side. My blood pulses at the thought of Natalie Buchanan. The Sentry has invaded every aspect of my life—now they’re in my school? I thought her type were forbidden to mingle with us common people. So what is she doing here? And what’s she doing with my coat, the thieving bitch?



I catch sight of her across the hallway as she’s led through the crowd by Day. Students hurriedly get out of her path, letting her through like she’s fragging royalty.



“Come on, let’s go this way,” I say to Beetle, heading in the opposite direction. Just because she’s at my school doesn’t mean I have to see her.



We head toward the main stairwell, following the stream of students going to their classrooms. We pass a few unfortunate ninth-graders who are getting punished by a group of Prefects, for Lord knows what reason. The Prefects make up any excuse to beat us; it’s like a sport to them. My cheek still stings where Gregory hit me earlier.



“I can’t believe the government’s going to enroll schoolchildren in the Trackers! I’ll never join those fascists. No way, man,” Beetle says as we climb the stairs. “And did you see those crosses?”



“They were hard to miss,” I say.



“It’s so obvious Purian Rose is sending Humans for Unity a message. He knows we’re rallying support against Rose’s Law, and he’s bricking it. He doesn’t want us uniting with the Darklings, so he’s trying to scare us off.”



I rub my brow. He’s probably right. “Look, maybe you shouldn’t go to the protest next week. It’s not worth dying for—”



“You of all people should be out there with us. Honestly, are you willing to die for anything, bro?” Beetle replies.



I don’t respond, rage and guilt silencing me. Why can’t he just drop it? I’m not going to die for a pointless cause. Why can’t he accept the wall’s never coming down? I have.



We head up to our classroom on the fifth floor in bitter silence. The room is musty smelling, with rows of wooden desks, the types with slanted lids and decades of graffiti scrawled over them. Above the blackboard is a life-sized portrait of Purian Rose. There’s something deeply disturbing about his face, with its unnaturally silver eyes and waxy skin so tight, it would tear if he ever smiled. It’s probably lucky he never does.



My desk is in the darkest corner of the room, away from Gregory and, more important, away from the windows. Even though they’re covered in wire mesh, I can’t risk being exposed to the sun when it gets too bright. I can only just tolerate the dim morning light as it is.



Chris leans back in his chair, arms behind his head, chatting to two of the prettiest girls in the class. Gregory’s slouched in the seat beside him, being ignored.



“Great party on Saturday,” one of them coos. “Maybe we could go out again this weekend?”



“Sure thing, babe. Why don’t we double date?” Chris replies.



The second girl looks at Gregory, who offers her a watery smile.



“I’m busy this weekend,” she says, turning her back on them.



The smile slips from Gregory’s lips. Ha!



“Look, I’m sorry,” Beetle says to me as we cross the room.



“Whatever.” That’s the closest thing to an apology he’ll get from me.



“Watch out! Dead man walking,” Gregory says as I pass him on my way to my seat.



“Give it a rest, Greg,” Chris mutters.



Heat rises up my neck. It’s not my fault my heart doesn’t beat—I never asked for this. I slump down in my seat. Beetle groans and rests his head on the desk, starting to come down from his Haze high.



“This is room 5B.”



I jerk my head up at the sound of Day’s voice. She stands by the doorway with Natalie. Something stirs in my chest, the motion as faint as a breath caught on a breeze, so slight I barely register it even happens.



So much for trying to avoid her!



Natalie tucks a blond curl behind her ear and quickly scans the room. She spots me in the corner and boldly holds my gaze. I glare back at her, refusing to break eye contact first. She eventually looks away.



“We come here in the morning and after lunch,” Day says, leading Natalie to the two empty seats in front of me and Beetle.



Beetle looks up and the tips of his ears turn pink. He’s still got it bad for her, and I sort of see why. She’s attractive in a skinny, prim way. Her round glasses slip down her nose, and she irritably pushes them back into place.