Burn Bright

They filed from the barge, winter refugees in boots and coats, into an unnatural, sticky heat. Music spread across the surface of the night air like spilled oil, and the flitting shapes of thousands of bats partly obliterated the stars. Retra watched them pour above the barge like a black rainbow across a dark canvas.

So many. Their moist, musky scent assaulted Retra’s senses. Between her legs and under her arms became damp with perspiration.

‘Look forward,’ said a cold voice.

Retra pulled her gaze from the sky to the Ripers. They were watching everyone walk down the drawbridge as if memorising faces. The one who had hauled Retra aboard the barge gave her a mock bow as she shuffled past. She shrank from him, not wanting to be remembered.

The bridge led straight to the back of a large, plain building. Retra tried to see beyond it but bright spotlights along the bridge confused her vision.

Ahead of her in the queue stood Markes and Cal. He had a bulky case slung across his shoulders, an instrument of some kind. Retra wondered if he’d stolen it. In the Seal compound, only Elders were allowed to own such things. Perhaps it was different in Grave North.

The pair was nearly at the Register. She wanted to get closer to Markes – just to say good luck, she told herself – but that meant speaking to Cal as well, and the girl’s manner made her uncomfortable.

Instead, she stopped at the foot of the bridge, suddenly not wishing to leave the barge. Something from out in the dark brushed her throat, damp fingers smearing her with warm wetness. She started, raising a hand against it, but touched nothing.

A teasing whisper in her ear – no, more a thought. Come to me …

She glanced around to see if anyone else had heard, but those near her gazed eagerly ahead. Except the Riper; he watched her.

She bowed her head and hurried on.

The queue split into three lines, each siphoning into a closed booth. She found herself in the line next to Markes just as he disappeared into one with Cal.

At the same time a hand tugged at her shoulder. ‘Want to do the same as them?’

It was the boy who’d fallen against her in the Ixion crossover. She recognised his freckled skin and the way his red curls corkscrewed off in different directions. Now that he was standing, she could see that he was taller than her but not nearly as big as Markes. She blushed, remembering her thoughts during the transition.

‘Hey, I know you! You’ve got soft whatsies.’ He leered at her chest, unashamed. ‘I’m Rollo. Looks like you can go through the Register in pairs. Wanna do that?’

Retra shook her head.

His leer deflated. ‘Hey, I didn’t think girls came here to give knock-backs.’

She turned away, offended. Maybe Cal was right about Seals. She hadn’t talked to any boys, other than Joel. Seal boys and girls were always chaperoned. Crossing her arms tight across her chest, she ignored Rollo’s fake heavy breathing down her neck.

Jerk! A forbidden word but it felt good to say it in her mind.

Rollo’s teasing stopped abruptly, though, when the boy who’d gone into the booth before them burst back out, moaning and crying. He threw himself to the ground near her feet, tearing at his face with his fingers, trying to gouge his own eyes out.

Two Ripers appeared and carried him away.

Hyper-reaction, the whisper went round.

Dread wound around Retra’s stomach. Will that happen to me?

She forced herself to step into the vacant booth. It was empty other than a black circle painted on the floor and an articulated metallic arm that hung from the ceiling.

As she stepped into the circle the door closed behind her and the mechanical arm dropped down, a hand of instruments unfolding from it. A brace snapped tight around her head and probes skittered into her ears and nose. She felt pinpricks at the base of her spine and neck.

Biological age 6387 days. Health – acceptable. Adrenal modifications successful. Psychological/neurological profile recommends faux badge. Proceed. Place your hand between the plates, said a disembodied voice.

She complied with the voice and the plates closed together, locking her hand in position. A probe punctured the skin at the centre of her palm, making her twist in pain.

Faux badge administered. Test orientation download … starting … now …