Burn Bright

Suki talked about her home as the cable kar looped back onto the main lines and up the face of the crater. She chatted, feet up on the seat, admiring the twists of leather and lace on her new boots.

‘My town is called Stra’ha. It’s the highest town on the Stra’haman trail before the high path to the ranges. It’s so boring there, except for the caves. Draculins by the million.’ Her expression became wicked, one eyebrow cocked. ‘I signed a pact once in draculin blood with a boy from the low towns. He came to visit with his father to sell arms to the women.’

‘Women don’t use weapons in Grave. We’re not permitted to do … group things.’ Retra heard her own voice speaking sensibly yet the words might have come from another’s mouth. Her body and mind went through the actions of being her, but her deep mind, her imagination wandered elsewhere. In her hindbrain colours bled as she looked out into the night, and sounds thickened into lumps that she wanted to chew and crunch.

‘Grave. Yeah, I heard about that place from a boy at the re-birth. He was a kinda cute red-head. Sounds kinda weird there. He said you aren’t allowed to talk to others in groups in case you get outta control. You can’t dance or play music. Some places there are even worse than that apparently – they barely talk at all.’

Retra nodded, not wanting to admit she was from one of them.

‘Anyway, there are only women in Stra’ha. It’s a woman’s town. The men don’t do so well with the altitude. It makes their spermies go sterile. The women have to go to the low towns to breed but they always come back to Stra’ha. They need to protect the men from the raiders who come across the ranges in summer or our people would die out.’

‘The women protect the men?’

Suki looked at her. ‘Of course! Is it different for you?’

‘My father makes all the decisions in our house.’

‘In Stra’ha we only need the men for their spermies, otherwise … pffft.’

Retra’s face burned at the thought. ‘Why did you come here then?’

‘Like I said … it was boring. And Liam … the boy I blooded with … he was coming here. We said we’d meet.’

‘Did he come? Have you seen him?’

‘He’ll be here. You can’t lie to a person when you’ve crossed with echo blood.’ But Suki looked uncertain for a moment.

They sat in silence for a while and Retra’s mind was caught up marvelling at a band of vivid golden spirals dancing across the walls of the kar. She wanted to ask Suki if she saw them too, but was afraid she would sound crazy.

Then the kar arrived at a station, groaning as it slowed.

A group wearing white bandanas crowded through the open doors and Suki put her feet down to make room. They were laughing and singing and Retra wanted to rake her fingers through their words and lick them. She felt sure they would be juicy, tender in her mouth.

A girl tumbled onto the seat in front of them. Hair redder than Rollo’s spilled out of her bandana, and she wore purple eye shadow up to the top of her eyebrows. Others went to sit next to her, then hesitated and moved on.

As the tram doors began to close, a boy with spiky hair half-hidden underneath a white bandana sprang onto the bottom step. He slid his muscular arm between the doors, and the sensors froze them, halting the kar.

He took his time climbing the remaining steps, looking around, checking out who was on board.

A few of the other boys called to him and he saluted them. His movements were slow and deliberate, demanding attention; his hair shone as slick as the seaweed that washed up on Grave’s rocky beaches.

Retra had kept some seaweed from her last trip to the beach, years ago, back when Joel wasn’t much taller than her and her mother still smiled.

The boy dropped heavily into the seat in front of them, next to the red-headed girl.

‘Some entrance. He must practise it,’ said Suki too loudly.

The boy swivelled round and stared at them. A quiet descended on the kar.

‘What’s ya name?’ he asked.

‘Suki.’

‘You gotta mouth, Suki. You wanna watch yourself.’

Suki bristled. ‘You should do the same.’

Retra was suddenly stuck by a premonition. She had to intervene. Prevent the rift. ‘Suki’s from Stra’ha,’ she said, suddenly. ‘She’s used to … telling males what to do.’

The boy’s gaze shifted to her. His eyes showed intelligence and a lot of pride. ‘Who’re you?’

‘Retra.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m from Seal South. But you can’t catch it.’

‘It?’

‘Being a Seal.’

He stared at her a moment longer and then he laughed. He didn’t take her hand but he turned back and slouched down in his seat.

Everyone around them fell to talking again and Suki’s shoulders relaxed.

Retra’s premonition slipped away.

The red-headed girl with the heavy eye make-up climbed up on her knees and leaned over the back of her seat. She pointed sideways at the guy. ‘He’s Kero. He runs the White Wings,’ she said. ‘I’m Krista-belle. I’m with him.’ She sounded proud about that.

‘What’re White Wings?’ asked Suki.

‘Our gang. There are others too. White Wings, Ghosts and Freeks. We’re named after bats, but only the ones that suck blood.’ Her eyes glittered. ‘You’ll learn about ’em soon enough. Whites are the best though. We look after our own. Ghosts take anyone in, no trial, and no questions. And the Freeks are rad.’

Retra heard without really listening. The girl’s words were taking shapes, flying from her mouth like butterflies. She wanted to reach out and catch them in her hand.

‘Main thing you newbies have to remember is to stay on the main strip. Don’t go walking the Lesser Paths.’

‘People disappear on the paths,’ added a guy from across the aisle. His head was shaved under his bandana. He sat on a girl’s knee and she groaned and giggled with the weight of him. ‘Even the League can’t save them.’

‘The League’s fearsome,’ his girl said.

‘No more fearsome than us.’

The girl poked out her tongue. ‘Clash’s way more fearsome than you.’

The guy ground his buttocks on the girl’s knee, making her groan louder.

Retra forced her lips to make the word shapes. ‘Who’s Clash?’

‘You are brand newbies, aren’t you?’

Before Suki or Retra could reply, Krista-belle clicked her long painted fingernails against the metal-work of the seat, calling attention back her way. She gave a smile that made Retra think of something warm and soft. ‘Ruzalia the pirate’s snatching Peaks – over-agers – and a new gang’s helping her do it. They’re calling themselves the Cursed League, run by Dark Eve and Clash. She’s huge, like a freaking bear, and he’s … hot.’

‘Settle down.’ Kero slapped her lazily on the rump.

Krista-belle giggled. ‘When the Ripers catch up with them, they’ll be gone. Withdrawn early. Pfft!’

‘Clash and his gang can’t be too smart then. Sounds like a stupid, dangerous thing to do,’ said Suki.

‘The League say they’re thinking ahead. I mean, we all get to be Peaks eventually and the League thinks that withdrawal means abandoned, thrown off the island into some kind of wasteland. If they’re right, I don’t want to be wasted. I’d rather be with Ruzalia.’

‘What if they’re wrong? And why did you come here if you’re so scared of aging?’ Retra could tell Suki was angry still. Little waves of it rolled off her.

‘Didn’t seem to matter when I was a newbie. Getting older seemed so far away. I’ve been here a while now, though. You start thinking about it. ‘Specially when you see others disappear.’

‘Maybe being withdrawn means you get sent to paradise,’ said Suki.

‘We’re already in paradise,’ said the shaved-head guy. He poked his tongue out and waggled it around. It was stained black. He stuck it into the mouth of the girl he sat on. She gagged and dumped him on the floor of the aisle. Then she sat on him and stuck her tongue down his throat.

Everyone laughed at them.

Krista-belle hung further over their seat. ‘Hope you’ve got that right, Suki. But just in case you haven’t, I’m backing Ruzalia and the League …’ She rolled her eyes and dropped back down next to Kero.

He moved closer and let his head fall down onto her shoulder.

In a few more stops someone called out, ‘It’s the Drop.’

The White Wings piled out, leaving the kar almost empty.

Retra stood up and the world swayed. Golden spirals swirled across everyone, spinning on their skin and their faces, disappearing into their mouths. She thought she might be sick again. ‘Let’s get off here too,’ she said thickly. She needed to walk and breathe.

Suki shrugged and followed her off the kar.

Retra walked along a wooden bridge that led from the platform straight into the top storey of a square stone building.

Suki reached for her hand. Retra had never held a girl’s hand before today. Seals didn’t touch each other very much. Mother had kissed her goodnight when she was young. That’s all she could remember. Yet, somehow, Suki’s touch made her feel better.

Now that she was moving, the spirals had disappeared and sounds had become merely sounds again, not something she wanted to eat.

Ripers stood waiting and watching on either side of the entrance to the club. One of them wore her hair in long black and white streaks. Her face was heavily scarred.

‘There’s Brand,’ whispered Suki. ‘She was on stage with Lenoir and Test at the re-birth. She’s creepy. All those marks on her skin.’

Brand. Retra remembered her. The one who’d torn away her veil and tunic after Lenoir had spoken to them.

As they walked past the scarred Riper, Retra’s fingers tightened on Suki’s. She couldn’t help it. It was that, or run back to the kar.

The Stra’ha girl squeezed back. ‘It’s okay,’ she whispered. ‘They’re here to keep us safe.’

Once they were inside, though, Suki let go of her hand and began to jig. ‘Aaah … listen … I die over this song.’ She ran off ahead.

Retra followed more slowly, taking in the top floor scaffolding and the ceiling decorated with light-reflecting streamers, and glitter globes that floated above her head. The balls shot off little beams, casting dotted patterns on the faces and limbs of the dancers below. An open-cage lift crawled up and down the side of the scaffolding, depositing newcomers on the dance floor on the bottom level and then returning to the top. On the other end of the floor was a narrow set of spiral stairs, but no one seemed to be bothering to use them, preferring to hang over the sides of the crowded cage.

Suki glanced back at her once. ‘Don’t leave without me,’ she shouted, before she ran onto the lift.

Retra watched her go, unsure of what to do next. The lighting was dimmer than Vank. Perhaps she could stay unnoticed and wait for Suki to tire of the place. But something about the music was impossible to ignore. The drumbeat crept into her chest and along her limbs. Like Markes’s guitar, it made her body want to move.

She caught the next lift down, drawn to the source of it. Standing on the edge of the dance floor, she sensed the current feeding backward and forward among the dancers, skittering along their laughter and their casual embraces, linking them together.

Some boy grabbed her arm. ‘Come on,’ he urged.

She let him lead her out to the dance floor. The music seemed deeper, thicker out there. When she tried to copy the boy her movements were stiff, and clumsy, as if she’d been cramped in a small compartment for some time and now, suddenly, had been given space to move.

The boy spun and jumped in front of her, encouraging her.

She slowly followed his lead, letting her limbs loosen.

Then the beat changed, pulsing faster and faster. The crowd surged in close and in one accord they began to jump, forcing her to do the same or be crushed. She bathed in the energy pouring forth from the moving bodies. Her heart beat wildly and heat radiated from the top of her head like a burning halo. Her hair came loose; bodies banged against her, and bore her up and down as if suddenly they were one dancer, one sound, one heartbeat.

She tore the band from her hair.

A heart that beat forever; music that went on forever. So long that she lost her place in time, so long that even her altered metabolism began to tire, so long …

And then, finally, it stopped. The music ended – torn away from her.

The crowd slowed and broke apart, disorientated, lost without their purpose. Retra clung to the feeling, wanting it back. She had never felt so bright before, so shiny and large. But the boy she’d been dancing with had disappeared and the palm of her hand felt hot. She glanced at the faux badge. Had she been dancing for so long that she needed to rest already?

Disconsolate and lost, she drifted among the crowd who’d gravitated to the drink stations. She looked at faces hoping to see Joel. But her head felt muzzy and the dimness made it hard to see faces properly.

She took the cage lift back to the top level and wandered out through the entrance. Though the Ripers still leaned near the door, Brand was no longer among them and their scrutiny made her nervous.

Should she return to Vank and rest? Or wait for Suki? The Stra’ha girl seemed so much nicer than Cal, but they’d still only just met. Was it possible to make friends so quickly? In Grave, the Seal girls only talked to each other when walking to and from Disciplines.

One of them – Toola – would wait for her by the skeleton tree after prayers, and they would sit together and share goat cheese and sweetbreads. Toola always asked her about Joel; what he was like, what he talked about. Her eyes would shine when Retra answered.

Then Joel left, and the warden was assigned to Retra’s family. Toola shunned her. After that she walked and ate alone.

Retra’s thoughts shifted to Joel. If he’d asked her to wait somewhere then she would. Using that as her guide, Retra turned back into the club to wait for Suki, but instead of catching the lift, she walked across to the less-crowded spiral stairs.

As she descended, the music bombarded her mind again, but the effects of the Rapture pod seemed to have waned, and she felt less inclined to dance. The badge on her palm still throbbed hotly, reminding her that she needed to rest.

She peered through the gloom behind the stairs. The crowds were thinner under this end of the dais, spread among tables and stools. Screens ran across the back wall, jutting out in L shapes. She walked over and looked behind one.

A couple was lying on a couch. Retra saw their legs entwined and their hands moving inside each other’s clothing.

She backed out, shocked.

‘Whatcha doin’, Retra-Seal?’ said a slurry voice, in her ear.

Retra jumped. It was Krista-belle from the kar; one of the White Wings. The girl swayed, as if she was having trouble keeping her balance, and her breath smelt strange, like burnt oranges.

‘Have you seen the girl I was with? Suki?’ Retra asked her.

The girl shook her head and pointed. ‘Jus’ gonna have a little lie down in there. Not feeling so good.’

‘Where’s your … where’s Kero?’

‘Can’t find him.’ She shrugged unhappily and staggered off behind one of the screens.

Retra thought about following her to see if she was all right, then changed her mind. She’d just met Kristabelle; she didn’t need to watch over her. Instead, she walked a circuit of the dance floor looking for Suki, but it was more crowded than before. She ended up back in the same spot in front of the screens.

Her palm was stinging now. She had to leave. Perhaps she could ask Krista-belle to tell Suki that she’d gone back to Vank.

She went over to the screen and knocked.

When there was no answer, she looked behind it. She couldn’t see Krista-belle but a Riper lay on a couch with her back to Retra, her coat and boots a stark outline against the pale covering.

As Retra began to retreat, a movement caught her attention. The glimpse of a frantic hand, fist closed and pumping, beating at the Riper’s back.

Krista-belle’s hand.

Retra knew what that movement meant. She’d used it on the warden, in her dreams, beating at his head as he held her down to inspect her thigh.

She took a few steps closer. Music drowned voices. Shadows cloaked detail. But she saw the side of the Riper’s scarred face clearly enough.

Brand.

She wanted to run away from what was happening but she couldn’t. She knew that frenzied movement. The cold fear in her belly warmed, and then slowly began to boil. She tried to contain the angry welling with Seal discipline; tried to quiet her thoughts.

Calm is my reward.

Calm is my reward.

She’d never shown her anger when her father had whipped her. Or when he’d denied her food as penance. Even when the warden pawed at her thigh, and the softer parts around it, she’d never let her control slip …

Calm is my reward.

Calm is my –

But this time her mantra failed her. The sight of Brand smothering Krista-belle set loose a fury in her that deepened and widened with each breath. She hadn’t been able to stop the warden but she could –

The Riper shifted, crouching over the girl’s exposed breast. Krista-belle’s red hair spilled out as she strained away, face contorted with terror.

Retra ran out into the club, looking for something – anything. She snatched up a stool and returned with it lifted high above her head.

‘Stop!’ she cried.

But the Riper didn’t hear her, or chose not to.

‘Please … stop!’

Nothing. Just Kristabelle’s panic and revulsion, and the Riper’s sickening intent.

Anger raged through Retra. Clutching the stool tightly, she brought it down as hard as she could onto Brand’s back.

The Riper arched back in pained surprise. She rolled off the couch, unnaturally quick and agile, her mouth open, teeth bared.

Retra froze in the grip of her bestial stare.

Freed of Brand’s hold, Krista-belle gave a high-pitched scream that rang above the beat of the music. As Brand stalked towards Retra, Krista-belle scrambled off the couch and ran past them both, out into the club.

Retra turned to follow her but Brand seized her wrist, twisting it.

‘It seems that you will have to do instead, baby bat,’ said the Riper.

The Riper pulled Retra towards the couch with an unnatural strength. Her cruel fingers wrenched Retra’s chin up, exposing her throat. Brand’s face lowered towards hers. ‘I remember you at re-birth, little one. You ran away from me.’ The Riper made a noise of satisfaction.

Retra writhed to escape the nearness of the Riper’s scarred face; the thick, damaged ridges of skin along her cheek and forehead that bespoke something ugly and dire.

‘But not this time,’ Brand whispered.

Pale teeth scraped along Retra’s neck and a camphor scent overwhelmed her. Her lungs filled with it, struggling to find air above the sharp, pervasive odour. Fingers gripped her thighs, up under her dress, forcing her legs apart, and she felt the sharp pain of something puncturing her skin under her jaw line.

Then, without warning, the Riper’s weight was gone.

Retra lifted her head and looked up. The club had gone silent; music dead, lights brighter.

‘Brand?’ Lenoir’s unmistakable voice sounded in Retra’s ear, in her head. ‘What goes on here?’

Brand rolled onto her feet in one movement.

The booth was filled with people: Lenoir, Brand, Test and more Ripers. One of them held Kero around the neck as he made futile efforts to get free. Krista-belle and the White Wings pressed in around and behind them.

‘What are you doing with the girl, Brand?’ Lenoir again.

Brand hunched her leather-clad shoulders and curled her lips in a sneer. ‘Nothing.’

‘You know that it’s forbidden to touch the younglings.’ Lenoir’s voice was quiet but intense as it entered Retra’s mind. She couldn’t drag her eyes from him. This close he was breathtaking; tall and lean, with sleek hair falling below his shoulders. His skin was whiter than Cal’s hair, and his face was made beautiful by the perfect symmetry of his features.

‘You think you need to preach our rules to me, Lenoir?’

‘I think you forgot yourself. That wouldn’t happen again, would it?’

Lenoir’s last two words hung heavily between them.

‘The first girl was a mistake. I was needy,’ Brand allowed. ‘But this one …’ She pointed to Retra. ‘This one attempted to harm me. What would you have me do?’

‘Harm?’ Lenoir looked at Retra, the fallen stool, and Brand. ‘How truly terrifying for you.’

The Ripers around Lenoir didn’t hide their smirks.

Brand bared her teeth again and swept out of the booth, knocking aside the rest of the White Wings who crowded around the edge of the screen, trying to see in. Their cries of protest went unheeded by Lenoir.

He glided closer to Retra, his gaze scalding her. ‘You show courage, little bat, to protect a friend, and foolishness. Never attempt such a thing again. We have ways to manage such an occurrence.’

Part of Retra wanted to disappear beneath his stare, but her anger was still alive and fanning a stubbornness that would not let her submit. ‘Such an occurrence? But I thought you were our Guardians. Our safekeepers.’

‘We are. That’s why I am here and why you are still alive.’ He turned to Kero. ‘This is finished. Take your gang and leave.’

The Riper holding Kero let go and, as quickly as they’d appeared, Lenoir and his Guardians left, leaving Retra alone with the White Wings.

Krista-belle launched herself at Retra straightaway, clutching her tight. ‘Thank you,’ she sobbed.

Retra stood awkwardly in the girl’s grip until Kero pulled his girlfriend back under his arm. He looked upset, his expression caught between anger and distress.

‘Seal Retra?’

Retra nodded. The palm of her hand was so hot now that it burned, and weariness fell across her like a thick blanket.

‘Let me through!’ Another voice penetrated through the quiet group.

Suki pushed her way in to stand next to Retra. Her makeup had smeared, and one stocking had laddered. ‘What’s up? What’s going on?’ She gave Kero a furious glance. ‘What’ve you done to her?’

‘Nothin’,’ croaked out Kero.

He stepped closer to Retra so that he, Krista-belle, Suki and she were in a tight circle. ‘Seal or not, we owe you for this.’

Retra tried to think of something to say, but her palm felt as if it had caught fire and the room had started to spin. Her only coherent thought fixed on Suki’s concern. No one had shown her that since Joel. Even Mother … Mother had been too scared.

‘What’s wrong with her?’ someone asked.

Suki grabbed her hand and held it, palm up, next to her own. ‘Ret, you’ve gotta rest now. Real quick.’

‘Find me later and we’ll talk,’ said Kero.

But Suki shook her head. ‘Forget later, tough guy. You gotta help me get her back to Vank. Now.’