Burn Bright

Graselle returned with fresh clothes. Naif noticed her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.

‘Graselle?’

But Graselle refused to speak and, after helping Naif to dress, she went away without a word.

Soon after, the two Ripers guarding her door entered. They led Naif through the labyrinth of tunnels to the surface, leaving her on the Syn platform.

Though it was only hours since she’d been here with Rollo and Suki, it felt as if days had passed. Would they notice the change in her?

She caught the kar to the closest club, eager to find them, but her faux badge began to glow at Club Abraxas. By the time she reached Bella Death it became hot and uncomfortable and fear of exhaustion forced her to seek rest close by at Goa.

The church of Goa reeked of decadence. From the jumble of makeshift altars decorated with gaudy fringed silks, painted figurines and ugly dolls, to the thousands of mirrors and murals of naked feasting. Perhaps Rollo’s story of the warring provinces on Ixion was true. Goa couldn’t have been made by the same people who built Vank. Goa was a place for worship but not holiness.

She took her petite nuit in an untidy room next to the apse which was overflowing with bodies. As soon as she’d rested, she left and sought the servery. The serving platters were spread haphazardly around and the white linen cloths on the tables were stained with food spills. There was none of Vank’s order or hygiene or supervision. She looked for uthers but couldn’t see them. Perhaps they didn’t come here.

Eating as quickly as she could, she went to wash and change her clothes. As she entered Goa’s neglegere, a girl approached her.

‘Are you the Seal who’s forming the Chosen?’

‘No. My name is Naif and I’m not a Seal.’

‘Shame.’ The girl seemed disappointed. ‘Everyone’s looking for her.’

‘Who is everyone?’

‘A red-headed guy and a Stra’ha’ine girl. So are the Wings, and the Freeks and the League. Apparently the Ripers have taken her and it’s causing a big drama. They’re talking about rescuing her.’

Naif’s stomach clenched. She must find Rollo and Suki before they did something foolish.

She left Goa immediately and went to Vank. Though Rollo and Suki were nowhere to be seen, Charlonge was standing by an uther near the hot server, presiding over meal time.

As Naif entered and walked between the heavy, polished tables, a quiet descended upon the normal murmur and clatter.

‘Where have you been?’ Charlonge gripped her elbow when she got close enough. ‘Come with me.’

Naif let Charlonge steer her up to the gallery.

The older girl shut the door behind them and locked it. Then she went to stand over by the balcony balustrade. She seemed nervous. ‘Everyone’s been talking about you. Is it true you were taken by the Ripers? What happened?’ Charlonge wrung her hands so anxiously that it made Naif want to take them and hold them still.

‘Char, you’re going to be withdrawn soon.’

Charlonge was silent for a moment. ‘How could you know such a thing?’ She sounded angry, not scared.

‘Lenoir told me.’ Naif hoped that the darkness of the gallery hid the rush of heat that warmed her face.

‘Since when do you have conversations with the dominant Guardian?’

‘Brand tried to – did – hurt me. Lenoir has healing powers and I was bleeding –’

‘Bleeding?’

Without the shame she would have felt as Retra, Naif lifted her skirt to show the healing wound on her thigh.

‘Lidol saints, what is that?’ gasped Charlonge.

‘When Joel ran away from Grave, the wardens sewed an obedience strip on my thigh, to stop me leaving the compound. I had to learn to manage pain to escape. Brand tried to … she took me … and found it then she cut it out.’ It was hard to say even with her newfound confidence.

‘Cut it out!’ exclaimed Charlonge. ‘Did they dull the skin?’

Naif shook her head. She smoothed the skirt down. The memory was too sharp to linger upon. ‘I am healing. While I was at the Youth Circle meeting, before Brand took me, the Ripers spoke of you. They said your time was over and that they would use you and Markes as bait to catch Ruzalia.’

‘Markes? The guitarist?’

‘Yes. You must decide what to do before they come for you.’

‘Decide what?’ Charlonge left the balustrade and paced a couple of steps.

‘Whether to trust Joel and escape. Or let the Ripers use you. Lenoir says that withdrawal means we go to a better place.’

Charlonge turned to her. ‘And who do you believe?’

‘I don’t know. Truly. You should talk to Joel.’

‘What did Lenoir say exactly?’

‘Lenoir says that withdrawal is the next part of our evolution into pleasure but –’

Charlonge trembled. ‘I need to think. And you must go and find your friends. Stop them before they do anything reckless. They were planning to come after you.’ She went to the door and unlocked it.

‘Do you know where they are?’

‘A party has been called at Agios. Everyone is talking about it but only some have been invited.’

‘Invited?’

Charlonge gave a sad smile. ‘Yes. Check your locker in the neglegere.’

Naif went to the neglegere as Charlonge suggested. She found a single garment hanging in her locker: a black brocade dress, stiff and beautiful and encrusted with hundreds of shiny gems. As she took it out, a pair of tiny lace gloves fell free from it, and a gold-trimmed card.

‘Wow! Oh, put it on,’ said a girl standing at a locker close to her. The girl looked a little like Suki, but taller, with honey-coloured hair and full lips. She wore a cherry red mini with high-legged boots and a velvet-fringed tank top.

Naif slipped off the simple silk shift she’d chosen at Goa, not as bothered by modesty as before. The brocade was difficult to get on and she had to wiggle and tug and ask the girl to lace the back. Finally she got it into place. The bodice fitted tight and low over her breasts but fell away into a froth of lace that trailed onto the stone floor.

‘You look like a bride,’ said the girl. Then she giggled. ‘Well, sort of …’

Naif’s heart skipped a beat at that. Whose bride?

‘You must be going to the party at Agios. It’s gonna be amazing. That new musician is playing there, the tall, gorgeous one that everyone loves. I think his name is Markes.’

Naif picked up the invitation. ‘A-are you going?’ she asked.

The girl pouted. ‘It’s formal wear only and I don’t have an invitation or anything like that in my locker.’

Naif held out the card. ‘Do you want to take mine? And the dress.’

The girl’s jaw dropped. ‘You’d give me that?’

Naif shrugged. ‘I could wear the silk.’ She pointed to the shift from Goa on the floor. ‘But I warn you, this dress isn’t very comfortable.’

‘Aren’t you the one who smashed the scarred Riper with a chair?’

After a moment, Naif nodded. It would be impossible to get away from what she’d done. Perhaps she shouldn’t try. ‘But I’ve taken a new name. I’m Naif now. I’m not a Seal any more.’

‘Most people take on a new name when they come here. I like Naif. It’s cool. I’m Geen. And thanks for the offer, but it wouldn’t fit me. You’re smaller than I am.’ She headed to the door of the neglegere, her boots making clicking sounds on the stone. ‘Have fun at the party. Maybe I’ll see you around.’