Fallen, page 7
Except her parents—her real parents—were dead.
So she thought she did.
“Excuse me,” she said, “but I think I need some sleep.”
CHAPTER NINE
Dreams
Ani woke the next morning from a series of confused dreams.
She squinted. The strong morning sun poured in through her window, which faced east. On the fourth floor of the townhouse, she was high enough up that she actually got sun. At street level, there was rarely anything more than a lightening of the fog. Still, though, by that afternoon the fog, and the smog, that lay on the city like twin blankets would probably have risen past the tops of even the tallest buildings. Those were the natural history museum, the train station and, of course, the palace. That august structure reportedly boasted 250 bedrooms.
But, try as she might, she couldn’t force herself to think about anything as bland as architecture.
She was, instead, thinking about things she shouldn’t.
She was naked. She’d thrown off her comforter somehow and her nipples were hard in the semi-chill air. A thin film of dried sweat covered her skin. She must have been tossing and turning all night.
The night before, she’d been too tired to put on her pajamas. She’d been too tired, and too relieved to be finally, blessedly, truly alone to do anything but peel off her clothes and throw herself down on the bed. Her clothes, which were still lying in a heap on the floor where she’d left them.
Well, wrinkles be damned. She didn’t think she’d ever be wearing that outfit again. She didn’t want the memories.
Oh, God, the memories.
She forced herself to sit up. Her head pounded, and her mouth tasted like something had died there. She reached for the glass on her bedside table, raised it to her lips, and took a sip. The water inside was flat. She grimaced. She needed a shower.
Luckily for the state of her head, crossing her room to the adjoining washroom was a matter of a few steps. She opened the door, feeling absurdly grateful that it was adjoining. She didn’t think she could face the idea of getting dressed, just to get undressed. Her nudity was nothing her family hadn’t seen before, but she didn’t want them knowing she’d had quite such a rough night.
Daniel’s bedroom connected to the washroom from the other side but Daniel had gotten up hours ago. Ani had overslept, which she’d known without bothering to consult a clock. The sun was too strong.
Less than a day to go before Purge night.
She turned the water on. It rained down from the showerhead, into the claw footed tub. A modern invention, the shower. Her aunt refused to take one, claiming that such a casual brush with water could never make one truly clean. But Ani felt the opposite; she hated the sensation of marinating in her own filth. Her uncle agreed with her, which was why the necessary apparatus had been installed in every washroom. A circular pipe, made from the same copper as everything else, ringed the showerhead and supported a curtain. For privacy, supposedly. But from whom?
Ani tested the temperature of the water with her hand, and then stepped into the tub.
She was thinking about Dane.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Dane. That she’d woken up thinking about him, and woken up naked, had made her feel dirtier than the filth she was currently scrubbing at with a sponge.
How could she remove the filth inside?
She poured more liquid castile soap out of a bottle, into her cupped palm, and returning the bottle to the floor began to massage that into her hair. Lavender scented, it was expensive, but it was also her only real indulgence. Her mind returned again to Dane’s question. How many bottles could she have had, if she’d said yes? What—what would’ve actually happened, if she had?
She wouldn’t have. No matter what. But she was curious.
She was always curious.
Curiosity killed the cat, her aunt was fond of quoting.
But her aunt omitted the second part of that couplet: satisfaction brought him back.
She didn’t need a patron and she didn’t—she didn’t want one.
She didn’t want to have to learn to like whatever demands might be placed on her, in that kind of arrangement. Just like she didn’t want to have to learn to like some husband. Even Archer. Archer, who maybe wasn’t the person she’d thought.
Well, she told herself, aren’t you lucky you aren’t in love with him, then?
Except….
She wasn’t in love with him, no. She couldn’t honestly imagine herself being in love with him, no matter how hard she tried. But he was handsome. Which she’d been aware of, in new and uncomfortable ways, at dinner. She’d never…but she might consider doing other things.
God, what was wrong with her?
One day with Dane and she was thinking like this?
Angrily, she wrenched the spigot. The water stopped. Suddenly shivering, she remembered that she’d forgotten a towel. Which didn’t matter. Who needed towels, anyway? Towels were stupid.
She left a trail of wet steps across the washroom floor.
Back in her own room, she scooped the offending outfit off the floor and dumped it into her hamper.
Then, somehow, she found herself sitting on her bed again.
Dane’s other question wouldn’t leave her mind, either. The one about whether his friends had behaved themselves. She’d seen fire in his eyes, the kind of fire that was banked now but that could easily blaze out of control. What would he have done to Fred, if she’d complained? To George?
Ani knew what she would’ve done: stabbed the offender in the hand with a fork. The hand, or somewhere lower. She might be the butt of everyone’s jokes because she wasn’t some ravening psychopath, but she was also no fool. And she was never, never ending up like her mother.
She looked around her room, once again. There wasn’t much to see. Her uncle was right that what they’d gained in location, they’d lost in space. Ani didn’t mind, though; this was home. The only home she’d ever had and the only home she’d ever wanted. Yes, it would be nice to fill what space there was with more art supplies, but….
She banished the thought.
The traitorous, wrong thought.
She had a lunch date with Lisa later, and then she was planning on returning here to spend Purge night like she always did: painting, and thinking about something else. Usually, their quarter of the city was pretty quiet. But for the fact that the doors and windows were barred, it really didn’t feel that different than any other night.
Usually.
She wondered what Lisa would be doing.
She supposed she’d find out.
Lisa knew how to fire a gun. She’d spent a lot of time at her parents’ rod and gun club, at the firing range. She’d never shot anything other than a target, though. Daniel wanted to learn how to shoot. Lisa had offered to teach him, eliciting a scandalized response from Grace.
As though Grace, herself, weren’t a proud supporter of this terrible kingdom.
Dane knew how to fire a gun, too. Ani had been more than a little sickened by his trophies, regardless of the stories behind them. If those stories were even true, which she doubted. One thing Dane hadn’t mentioned was his other style of hunting. Because, of course, he’d been working so hard at presenting himself as something approximating a human being.
Dane didn’t just stalk animals. He’d shot, and killed, dozens of men. And not just during the Purge.
Or so she’d heard.
In each telling, and retelling, the facts became more gruesome. Some claimed he’d killed for revenge; others claimed he’d killed, simply to enjoy the sensation of killing. But there was, apparently, no slight too small to warrant retribution and no torture too great to inflict as punishment for it.
He’d be out, tonight. He’d bragged, before, about the things he’d done during the Purge. Although not within Ani’s earshot. Not for a long time. Not since he’d discovered the effect his words had had on her. A passion for blood making someone a less desirable mate? Imagine that.
He gave no more thought to hurting people, to murdering them than she did to pulling weeds.
But what—what could she expect from someone who was perfectly happy being friends with kidnappers and rapists? Violet’s face appeared before her eyes again. Violet, who wore an enormous ring that might as well have been a manacle.
Violet, said the other voice, who’d seemed perfectly happy.
And Dane—Dane had had the audacity to almost make her like him. That realization alone made her want to get back into the shower. He’d been so nice and—she kept having to remind herself that it had all been an act. He didn’t care about her art, or about anything else about her.
He was—he was Lucifer. Ten times more, no a thousand times more than his uncle. And like Lucifer, he knew how to lie.
She’d be late to meet Lisa if she didn’t hurry, so she scrounged around for something to wear and settled on what Grace would call man clothes. Hopefully Lisa could distract her with some good stories. Maybe she even knew some good—meaning disgusting—stories about Dane. Anything to help Ani remember how much she hated him.
She braided her hair, which was still wet, and found herself once again staring out her window at the sprawl of the city. Everyone else had been working for hours already, or they didn’t work. Didn’t even know what work was. Although of course they thought they did.
A newsie waved a copy of the morning’s paper in the street below, yelling something about a factory fire. There was always a fire, or a collapse or, barring that, another scandal about more missing people in the city’s poorest quarters. Someone had even claimed that a serial killer was stalking them all. A serial killer who cut up women in various gruesome ways, all of which had the ring of ritual about them.
Drawing a deep breath, Ani turned from the window and toward her day.
CHAPTER TEN
Mrs. Arnold’s Soothing Syrup
Her uncle was right about the supermarkets being packed.
Ani wasn’t about to venture into one, but she could hardly miss the lines. Even from the smallest stores, they extended. There was only one large-ish market along the route between her house and the café where she was meeting Lisa, and she had to cross the street to avoid it. Someone else tried to pass through and was immediately accused of cutting. Their protests that they didn’t want water, in a jug or otherwise, fell on deaf ears. Ani stopped, and was about to go to his aid, when he broke free. He hurried on, his hands thrust deep into his pockets, and was gone.
She did think about stopping into the store at the end of the street, the one that sold art supplies. She could use some new colored pencils. She’d be late, even later than she was going to be already, but Lisa wouldn’t mind. Lisa had probably stopped somewhere, herself, to ogle a pair of shoes.
She passed a man standing in front of a brightly painted cart, assuring her and everyone else within earshot that his cocaine drops were an instantaneous cure for toothache—and at only half a guilder per bottle, a real steal! Ani, who thought patent medicines were almost as ridiculous as men like Dane, resisted temptation.
Her aunt was a tremendous fan of Mrs. Arnold’s Soothing Syrup, a concoction that was meant for children but that was mostly enjoyed—and not necessarily medicinally—by their parents. As it contained a mixture of morphine and opium, this was hardly a surprise.
Another man was giving a presentation on a new brand kind of cigar, which he claimed were excellent for one’s health. “Pure and scientific!” he exclaimed, waving one around over his head. Someone asked the price, and someone else laughed. It was nice to know that they weren’t all fools in New Victoria. Supposedly things had been different, before the war, but….
“I’ll take ten boxes!” a voice called out.
A child ran in front of her, after a pig.
Someone called to someone else from a second floor window, and there was a splash as something landed behind Ani in the street. Her aunt always claimed that she was taking her life into her hands, going out alone like this, but Ani had so far never seen any evidence that the world even knew she existed. Certainly no one else on Chapel Lane did.
Finally, she reached the café.
Lisa was sitting inside, at a table by the left-hand window. There were two windows, both enormous, on either side of the front door. Ani joined her, relieved to be out of the chill. She didn’t take off her coat, she was too cold; instead, she found herself watching the world through the diamond paned glass. “It’s crazy out there,” she said.
“My mom was scandalized when I told her I was going out.”
“Mine was, too.”
“What did you tell her?”
Ani shrugged. “That she could come with me, if she wanted.”
Lisa laughed.
A girl came with menus.
“Really, though,” Ani continued, “your mother’s upset?”
“She’s just worried I won’t be home before dark.”
“Because she’s afraid you’ll change your mind and break your promise to her?”
Her promise that, this year at least, she wouldn’t join the festivities.
“If I was going to change my mind, then I’d be just as likely to do it in my room.”
“But less likely,” Ani pointed out, “to act accordingly.”
“That’s what you think.”
The girl returned to take their orders. Ani went for a selection of tea sandwiches. Lisa got the pigeon.
“I don’t know how you can stand those stupid little triangles. I mean, watercress. Really?”
“I don’t know how you can stand pigeon!”
“It’s braised in port.”
“Even worse!”
The girl brought them water, and iced tea.
“So,” Lisa said, her tone becoming conspiratorial, “tell me about last night.”
“What about last night?”
Lisa arched an eyebrow.
“Um. My aunt and uncle fought and I learned that apparently Daniel considers guinea pigs to be quite martial.”
“You know that’s not what I mean.”
Ani fixed Lisa with her most innocent expression.
Lunch was served.
“Did you and—what happened with Dane?”
“Nothing happened with Dane. He tried to talk to me about—something, and I left.”
“You just left?”
“My aunt and uncle rescued me.”
Lisa’s response sounded suspiciously like a grunt.
“What happened with you? Did you and Jasper…?”
“No.” Lisa made a dismissive gesture. “Because my parents rescued me.”
“I’m…sorry?”
“Not all of us want to live like nuns.”
Outside, one total stranger started yelling at another.
“Last year,” Lisa said, changing the subject, “some man hacked through his neighbor’s door with an axe.” She meant, during the Purge. “I don’t know if he wanted to rape her, or what. But she was home there, alone, with her children. She told them to run while she attempted to reason with him, but I guess—unsurprisingly—there was no reasoning with him. So get this: she threw a couch cushion at him. And he actually tripped on it! That gave her enough time to retreat into her bedroom, where she kept her gun.”
“This is terrifying.”
“He followed her, of course. He demolished that door, too. Then, after he stood there on the threshold yelling at her for awhile, she shot him.”
“And here I am, thinking people usually just kill their in laws.” Ani sipped her iced tea.
“There was that time that man stabbed his brother in law in the throat with a carving knife.”
Three years ago now, Ani thought. “Yeah, after encouraging him to shelter there overnight.”
“Or what about that man, the one who decapitated his sister and wrapped her head up like a present?”
“Wait—is he the one who put it with the actual presents?”
“For his wife’s birthday party.”
Ani returned her glass to the table as slowly and carefully as she could manage. She didn’t want its contents ending up on the floor. “I think,” she said, “that I’m going to be sick.”
But Lisa, who was always so empathetic, only rolled her eyes. “You need to toughen up.”
A woman hurried down the street, clutching her parcels to her chest.
How did people survive, who couldn’t afford security systems? What about the men, the women, the entire families who lived in the tenements and poorhouses on the city’s east side? They did, at least some of them; simple deductive reasoning told Ani that. If they’d all turned to killing each other, the city’s—the entire kingdom’s—factories would’ve long ago have held nothing but ghosts.
It occurred to her, unsettlingly, that maybe New London’s poorest residents weren’t quite as violent as their overlords. That instead of fighting each other for preeminence they actually helped each other. No one with means enough to own his own home would dare extend a hand to his neighbor; the story Lisa had mentioned, about the man who’d tricked his brother in law, wasn’t the only cautionary tale of its kind. Ani remembered everyone’s reaction to it, too, at the time: amusement. That someone could be that trusting. That naïve. That stupid.
“I’m going out again next year,” Lisa said. “Regardless of how my mom threatens me.”
And then, astonishingly, she ordered dessert.
How she could want sponge cake, berries or no berries, after this conversation was simply beyond Ani’s power to comprehend.
“You know, Dane and his friends are going to get up to some trouble.”
“Please, don’t tell me about Dane.”
“At last, she’s animated!”
“I was animated before.” Ani felt unaccountably defensive. “With nausea.”
“Uh huh.”
“If you like Dane so much,” Ani grumbled, “you should date him.”
“I can’t. I’m trying to date his uncle. And besides, he likes you.”
