A growing sense of dread overcomes me. I try to peer around them. “Where are Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe?”
“Take it,” Cassius orders.
I take the container from the Imp. It’s colder than my trembling fingers. “What is this, Cassius?”
A long sigh hisses from his lips. “It’s Mrs. Bledsoe-or rather, what’s left of her. The poor thing had Reaper’s, as you know. Awful business. She wasn’t strong enough to endure all the excitement, and unfortunately succumbed to her illness last night.”
I feel like I’m disconnected from my body, hovering overhead, observing the events rather than experiencing them. None of this is real. I’m just having a nightmare. That’s all. I clutch the urn to my body. The porcelain’s like ice against my chest. I can feel the rapid-fire thumps vibrating through it, as if trying to compensate for the lifelessness within.
It’s real.
All I can do is stand there, rocking the urn back and forth, blinded by the flood pouring down my cheeks.
“My brother … ” I try to run past the Imps, but they grab me. I twist in their clutches. “I want to see my brother!” I won’t believe he’s still alive until I see him myself.
Cassius shakes his head. “I’m sorry, Recruit. No more exceptions for you.”
All that pent-up fury bubbles over and explodes. I rip free of the Imps and lunge at him. We crash to the floor. The urn topples from my grasp and smashes with a loud crash, engulfing Cassius and me in a cloud of Mrs. Bledsoe. I straddle him. He looks up, his eyes daring me to strike. I raise my fists to pummel him-
The air is torn from me as something slams into my lower back, sending jolts of pain through my body. I fall over, curling into a ball. Cassius slides out from under me. A flash of a boot and another kick sends fire into my kidneys. My eyes grow dim …
“Don’t hurt him! Let him go!” Digory’s voice echoes through the hall.
“Bring Tycho over here.” Cassius’s voice penetrates the painful fog clouding my brain.
Style’s rough hands grab me on both sides. He drags me to my feet. I manage to open my eyes. Everything’s a blur, but Cassius’s face comes into focus. He smirks at me and leans in to whisper in my ear. “You should thank me. When the time came, you’d have chosen to end the Bledsoe witch’s life yourself before your precious little brother’s. I just expedited the process and took the decision out of your hands. Now you can go into the Trials guilt-free.”
“Murderer … ” I hiss at him.
Renquist and another Imp shove Digory toward me, his arms pinned behind his back. His eyes are choppy blue rivers. “Lucian, are you hurt?”
There’s not a part of me that doesn’t hurt, both inside and out, including the parts of me that he’s touched. I drop my gaze to the broken urn and the scattered ashes.
Cassius clears his throat and raises his hand to silence the crowd’s stirring. “I apologize to all of you who had to witness that. But it will help you to understand the dynamic that sets these Trials apart from any others we’ve ever held.” He holds a hand out, indicating Digory. “Here we have one Recruit, who aside from his husband, has no other discernible family or close friends our research was able to discover. Of course, as in rare cases such as this, Tycho could be assigned an orphan as one of his other Recruits. But … ” He points to me now. “Here we have another Recruit, who through no fault of his own has lost one of his Incentives before the Trials have even begun.” He shakes his head. “What to do?” A smile flashes across his face. “Observe.”
3-D holograms appear throughout the chamber, the largest of which towers right behind Cassius on the dais, all projecting the identical images.
Digory and me.
It’s footage of us on the Observation Tower, sitting on the railing, gazing at the stars.
I wonder what it would be like, Lucian, to love someone so totally, so … you know, so powerfully, that even the stars can’t contain themselves from proclaiming that love for everyone to see. Digory’s voice blares through the audio system.
The image switches to the raft during our first Sim exercise, me slung over Digory’s body, both of us half-naked, me whispering into his ear.
Listen to me, Digory. You’re going to be okay. I promise.
Other images flash by in quick succession-Digory defying Slade and standing up for me when we first arrived at Infiernos … him feeding me breakfast at the mess hall during our first day of training …
The images fade into our moment earlier tonight. Digory and me on the terrace, his head nuzzled against my neck.
Let’s just have this one moment, just you and me, no one else … one moment where we don’t talk about any of that … where none of it exists … where we can pretend tomorrow is a lifetime away …
Footage of us dancing, swirling in each other’s arms …
All the holograms fade. The lights come up.
The crowd is silent. And then the murmuring begins.
“May I have your attention, please.” Cassius calls out above the clamor. The muttering fades. “As you can see, Digory Tycho has demonstrated strong emotional ties toward Lucian Spark. All of you witnessed yourselves his concern for Spark just a moment ago, casting protocol aside to try and protect him despite the fact that he’s already married to another. And Lucian Spark, likewise, has strong feelings for Digory Tycho, stronger than any other living person other than his own brother, now that his poor unfortunate surrogate mother is no longer with us.”
The audience begins buzzing again. Cassius allows it to continue for a moment before raising a finger. A hush falls through the hall. “So, for the first time ever, two of the Recruits shall also serve as each other’s Incentives. Both their lives now hinge on each other’s progress during the Trials. Should one falter, he will have to choose between his competitor’s life and the life of his regular Incentive. Note that if he chooses his competitor, this decision will also have repercussions on his competitor’s regular Incentive. Without anyone to fight for him, that Incentive’s life will be forfeit as well.” Cassius nods. “As of tomorrow morning, you will be witnesses to one of the most interesting Trials ever, where the question of self-indulgent love versus love of country will take on an even more significant meaning. Let the Trials begin!”
The applause swells into a thunderstorm.
“No! You can’t do this!” I shout over the roar.
“Lucian!” Digory calls. The Imps are already hauling him off stage.
Cassius signals the Imposers and they drag me past him. “I’ll kill you for this,” I hiss at him.
Soldiers point at me, some laughing, others waving their fists, as I’m towed by, down the aisle and out of the hall.
I guess I gave them their little scene after all.
PART 3
Twenty-Two
I’ve spent the entire sleepless night locked in solitary, thanks to my outburst at the Graduation Ceremony. Flight risk or suicide watch? Not that the outcome of either would be any different.
It’s the first time at Infiernos that I’ve craved the sagging mattress of my bunk, back at the barracks. I don’t know how many hours I’ve done nothing but stare into the suffocating darkness, wondering when the night will end-and dreading the moment when it will.
My cell door wooshes open.
Captain Valerian, the female Imp I haven’t seen much of since she sicced the Canid on the kid in the alley, stands there, weapon aimed at me.
“It’s time, Recruit.” She tosses a bundle at my feet.
Black combat fatigues and boots.