The Culling ttk-1 Page 5

  He lets loose a sigh. “The Trials weed out the weak links. There are limitless opportunities for those who are resourceful, independent. Look at what I’ve achieved.”

  I throw up my hands. “Wow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was listening to a public information broadcast on the wireless!” I head back to the couch and drop down, crossing my arms. “The Recruitment is state sanctioned murder.”

  He coughs, nearly choking on his second swig of wine. “It’s not murder.” He marches over and plunks down next to me. Scarlet droplets from his glass bleed onto the white marble floor. “Every Recruit is given an equal opportunity to advance to the next level of their training.” He holds up his hand before I can protest. “Yes, it’s unfortunate that the Recruit who achieves the lowest score after each round must undergo the Culling-”

  “Stop sterilizing it!” I hug my knees. “The loser of each trial has to choose between the lives of two people they love, and if they can’t do that, all three of them die. That’s sick.”

  The color of Cassius’s face matches what’s left of his drink. “Yes, they die. Is that what you want to hear, Lucky? Is that raw enough for you?”

  “How can you defend the system? They made you choose your mother’s life over your father’s. What kind of people would make a kid do something like that?”

  The glass drops from his hand, shattering into a million pieces. A ruby pool spreads at his feet, sliding toward the poster lying nearby. As he watches it, his face turns to stone.

  “I tried to save them both, Lucky. I’ve replayed that last round in my head every night since.” He turns to me. “You don’t know how much I wanted to be the first Recruit to ever make it through every round with both of their Incentives intact and become an Imposer.” Pools well in his eyes. “My father … he understood at the end. I … I saw it on his face. He wanted me to be strong, beat the others.”

  His expression melts and I see the Cassius I remember, a frightened sixteen-year-old selected during the Recruitment ceremony two years ago. “Oh, Lucky, why couldn’t I save him too?”

  I touch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You had to go through something no one should ever have to. Don’t you see? That’s how they break you.”

  He tears away. “But they haven’t broken me. Don’t you see? I can beat them at their own game. Now that I’m Prefect, I can change things, make a difference. And to do that, I need you.”

  “For what?” I lean back against the cushions.

  He scoops up the poster. It unspools, the images now tainted red. “These insurgents. So far every attempt to infiltrate their nest has met with failure.”

  “I still don’t understand what that has to do with-”

  He rolls the poster back up. “This propaganda that was in your possession when you were taken into custody-”

  “I already told you, it’s not mine. You have to believe me.” My pulse thrums in my ears.

  Cassius smiles and squeezes my knee. “Of course I believe you. I know you of all people would never lie to me.”

  I shift my weight, but I can’t get comfortable.

  He leans in. “All I’m asking is that you seek these rebels out, ingratiate yourself to their cause.”

  “So you can go ahead and flush them out? They’ll be executed. You know that.” Digory’s face haunts my mind. “I won’t be a part of that, Cass. I don’t want to get involved in this civil war. All I care about is my brother being safe.”

  He sighs and lets go of me. “You totally misunderstand my intentions. I want to put an end to the violence. There’s no reason why both sides can’t come to the table and work through these issues in peace.”

  I shift onto my knees. “You aren’t going to arrest them?”

  He swivels toward me, resting on his folded legs. “Things are going to be different, now that I’m Prefect, I swear it.” His fingers tangle with mine. “I want what you want. Things to change. If these rebels continue to operate on their own, then they will incur the Establishment’s wrath. Prime Minister Talon will wipe them out. I can prevent this, but to do so, I need you to act as a conduit.” His smile is soothing. “You’re a Parish boy. Hardworking, well-liked. You fit the profile of what the rebels look for.”

  My eyes narrow. “And in return, you’ll protect Cole by making sure I’m not recruited?”

  He releases a long breath. “This isn’t a quid pro quo, Lucky.” He leans in, his eyes taking my own hostage. “I’d have prevented you from being recruited no matter what.”

  “You promise, all you want to do is talk to them, Cass? I mean, that’s it? No interrogations? No torture?”

  “None of that.” He bounces off the sofa and pulls me to my feet. “I pledge to you on what we mean to each other, which is the one thing in this entire world that I value the most.”

  All my unease, my fears, evaporate with those words, and I feel ashamed for ever having doubted him. I feel myself glowing. He does still care. He’s still my Cassius …

  And the idea of a truce, of real change in the lives of the Parish’s citizens, is too tempting. I can talk to Digory first and explain Cass’s offer. He’ll know what to do. And if he refuses, no one gets hurt. It’s not like I’d be getting involved in anything.

  I smile. “All right. I’ll see what I can do. But it’ll take time. I can’t promise anything.”

  Cass grins, brushing the hair from my eyes. “Just knowing that you’re going to make the effort means everything to me, Lucky.” He hugs me tight. “It’ll be just like old times. You and me against the world.” His smile is infectious.

  “Yep. You and me,” I say.

  “Which reminds me.” He reaches into his pocket. “I have something for you.” He pulls out a silver chain. Dangling from it is a pendant, bearing an engraving of two hands clasped together. He moves behind me and places it around my neck.

  I hold up the medallion and marvel at every detail. “It’s magnificent, Cass! I can’t accept-”

  “Nonsense! I had it molded from the silver pin I was awarded as the last Recruit left standing.” He snaps the clasp together. “The thought of one day giving this to you has kept me going the last two years.” He moves around in front of me, his eyes admiring. “Promise me you’ll wear it always.”

  I grip the chain. “I promise.”

  A loud gong reverberates throughout the room, buzzing through my skin.

  Cass groans. “Time to prepare for my Officiation duties.”

  My eyes travel longingly to the dining table. “Do you think I could take home some of that leftover food, for Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe?” I’m prepared to beg if I have to. Pride can’t fill an empty stomach.

  He claps his hands together. “I have a better idea! The Recruitment gets underway within the hour. I’ll have a security detail escort you back to pick them up and return you to the Citadel. The three of you can watch the procession from my private box. There’ll be plenty of food and refreshment for all.”

  Dampness smears his image. I blink him back into clarity. “I’ve missed you so much.”

  His smile is radiant. “Me too. This is going to be a new beginning, Lucky. A new beginning for the Parish. For the Establishment. But most importantly, a new beginning for us.”

  Eight

  The lumbering steam coach transporting Cole, Mrs. Bledsoe, and myself back to the Citadel ebbs to a crawl about twenty feet in front of the tower’s massive iron doors. Rods and pistons screech to a halt. Coughing up a final shroud of vapor, the vehicle stops dead. When the haze clears, I almost buckle under the weight of the stares coming from the crowd jammed into both sides of the street for today’s ceremony. Fear and confusion as to why the three of us have been singled out for this special treatment is plastered on most of their faces. But it’s the piercing glares scattered throughout the pack that force my eyes away in shame.

  Cole springs from the cab. “Hurry, Lucky! We’re gonna be late!” he cries over the clamor of the throng. He tugs my hand with both of his
, urging me from the carriage.

  “Take it easy, buddy. We’re just on time. The parade’s about to start. You haven’t missed any of it.” I hop to the ground. “Hey, what say you pretend I’m a caballus and ride me up to the observation box?”

  He claps and jumps up and down a couple of times. “Can I, Lucky? Please?”

  I scoop him up onto my shoulders, ignoring the pain. “Next stop, the Command Center, Sir!”

  Cole tugs my ears. “Giddy-up!”

  I turn to Mrs. Bledsoe, who’s still sitting in the coach. She looks even paler in the bright afternoon sunshine. “You’re so good with him,” she says. “Reminds me of you and your father.”

  I take her hand and guide her out of the transport, into the hover chair that Cassius has so generously provided.

  She fidgets in her seat, eyes suspicious. “I really don’t need this contraption, dear. I can walk. I’m not an invalid.”

  “Nobody says you are.” I tug the seat belt snug around her. “Think of it as being queen for the day. We’re here to serve your every whim.”

  She coughs into her handkerchief. “If I fall off, you’d better catch me.”

  Our Imposer escort punches a button on one of the armrests. There’s a puff of exhaust from the propulsion unit underneath the chair.

  “Oh!” Mrs. Bledsoe exclaims. The chair rises a few feet off the ground.

  “I wanna ride the flying chair!” Cole’s heels tap against my chest.

  My head twists up. “Hey. Behave yourself, or the ride ends now.”

  He buries his face in my hair.

  I squeeze his foot. “If you’re a good boy, you can ride it on the way back, deal?”

  He bounces on my shoulders. “Deal!”

  My eyes shift between Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe. “Everyone ready?”

  “Yes!” Cole shouts.

  Mrs. Bledsoe wheezes. Her gaze crawls up the tower. “Not really, but let’s go.” She fiddles with the controls of her chair and it swerves toward the Citadel.

  “This way,” the Imposer commands, then swivels on his heels and marches through the iron gates.

  Taking a deep breath, I’m about to follow Mrs. Bledsoe across the threshold when a familiar figure in the crowd catches my eye.

  Digory Tycho. His hair is hanging wildly about his face, framing his clenched jaw. The intensity in his eyes causes my heart to race.

  I squeeze my passenger’s ankles. “Cole, why don’t you go inside? There’s something I need to do first.”

  His heels dig into my chest. “Not fair! I wanna stay with you!”

  I hunch down and pry him off me, setting him gently to the ground. “No whining. Mrs. Bledsoe will be with you. I’ll follow right behind, I promise. Don’t I always keep my promises?”

  His lips thrust into a pout. “Yup.”

  “Okay then. Go on now.”

  I slap him on the butt and he runs toward Mrs. Bledsoe, whose forehead has sprouted more creases as she stares first at me, then at Digory. I mouth the words I’ll be right there and watch as Cole takes her hand, and then he and the hover chair are gobbled inside.

  Before I even have the chance to fully turn around, Digory’s tugging my arm, pulling me into an alcove on the side of the building under the scowl of a stone gargoyle. He eyes me up and down. “You’re okay! I heard you’d been captured by the Imps. But that’s impossible. You’re here, safe.”

  I poke my head out of the niche and peer around the corner, scanning the crowd to make sure no one’s listening. But they’re all riveted on the procession winding down the boulevard. I melt back into the shadows. “Actually, you heard right. I was taken in for questioning. But everything’s fine now. It was all a misunderstanding.”

  Digory’s eyes taper into slits. “How’s that possible? No one gets released on good behavior.”

  I shake my head. “It’s a long story and I don’t have time to explain right now.”

  There’s a loud whinny from one of the caballuses in the procession, followed by a few screams. One of the bystanders is barely pulled out of the beast’s path by the crowd. Its rider, Prior Delvecchio, gallops ahead without even a look back. I huddle closer to Digory so he can hear me above the commotion. “There’s something more important I need to talk to you about. Remember when you asked me why I was breaking curfew?”

  He nods, still looking at me funny.

  “There was someone here I had to see. Someone I needed to ask for help.”

  His eyes brush the Citadel’s walls, painting them with contempt. “There’s no one inside this … this place … who would help anyone.” When he looks back at me, understanding dawns on his face, mixed with fear. “But if you got released, it must mean you’re cozy with one of the higher-ups. And the only person with that kind of authority is the new Prefect, Cassius Thorn.” He slaps his forehead. “Of course! You two! I remember. You were always together before he left the Parish … ”

  My pulse sprints. “How did you know-?”

  He grabs my hands. “Believe me, Lucian. He’s not the same anymore. No one who could rise to that position so quickly could ever be.”

  I pull away. “He’s not like the others. He wants to help.”

  Digory backs away. “What are you talking about? What did you tell him?”

  “Relax. I didn’t tell him anything. It’s what he told me. He wants to change things. He really does care about the citizens of the Parish.”

  Digory sighs. “And you believe that?”

  “It’s true. He wants to meet with the leaders of the rebellion, have a face-to-face, hear their grievances, reach a compromise.”

  Digory crosses his arms. “How exactly does he plan to accomplish this?”

  “Through … ” I clear my throat. “Through me.”

  “You mean through me, don’t you?”

  “What?”

  He moves close again, squeezing my arms. “You didn’t tell him about what we talked about, did you?”

  “Of course not!” I shake myself loose. I notice several onlookers giving us the eye and lower my voice. “All he did was ask me to pave the way. I didn’t promise him anything. That’s why I’m telling you now. I wanted to run it by you before-”

  “Before you report back to him?” Digory’s face is on fire. “Have you forgotten what they did to that kid in the alley?”

  It’s a memory I’ll never forget, no matter how many dams my brain wedges against it. “That wasn’t Cass. It was the Establishment.”

  Digory clenches his fists. “He is the Establishment.”

  Now it’s my turn to get angry. “You’re wrong.”

  His gaze softens. He reaches out and lifts the pendant Cassius gave me, studying the clasping hands before letting it drop back down against my heart. “Lucian. I saw your brother and Mrs. Bledsoe entering the Citadel. If you love them as much as I know you do, you’ll get them out as soon as possible.”

  I’m genuinely touched, even if his fears are unfounded. “Digory, I didn’t mean to just spring this on you. I thought you’d be happy there was someone on your side, willing to listen. Someone that could do something. I can’t risk anymore. I have what’s left of my family to think of.”

  He nods. “It means a lot to me that you thought you were helping, but you’re not. I don’t want any part of Cassius’s deal.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets and looks away.

  Seeing the disappointment in his eyes sends guilt coursing through me. “If you’re worried I’m going to tell Cass-anyone-about you, don’t be. It was a bad idea to mention it.”

  “Probably worse than you realize.” His eyes dart through the crowd before returning to me, filled with sadness. “Besides, I’m more worried about you. Be careful, Lucian. If Cassius Thorn promised to protect you and your brother from the Recruitment, you can bet there’s a price. Just be sure you’re prepared to pay it.”

  He turns and walks away, swallowed by the crowd.

  “Digory! Where’re you going? Come back! I didn’t tell hi
m anything! I swear it!” I shout, not caring who hears me.

  But he’s gone, vanished as though he never existed, leaving me surrounded by thousands and feeling utterly alone.

  Nine

  The palatial Ceremonial Suite is nearly twice the size of Cassius’s private quarters. I hurry past two Imposers flanking the archway that leads to an open-air observation platform.

  “What took you so long? Is anything the matter?” Cassius asks. He’s seated at the head of an oblong table with Cole and Mrs. Bledsoe, shrouded in shadows created by the awnings of the suite’s massive Palladian windows. Just beyond them, glaring sunlight beats down on the panoramic balcony roosting over town square.

  I smile and sit in the empty chair. “Nope. It was hell getting past the mob out there.” I avoid his gaze. “Did I miss anything?”

  He sips from his goblet. “Just breaking bread and getting reacquainted with the charming Mrs. Bledsoe and little Cole here.”

  Mrs. Bledsoe pushes her empty plate aside. “Charming? Me? I don’t think anyone’s ever referred to me as such!” Her attempt at laughing degenerates into a bout of coughing. She clasps the handkerchief to her mouth.

  I go over to her, kneeling by her chair. “Are you all right?”

  She waves me away. “Yes, yes, don’t mind me. It’s all the excitement.”

  “You should relax, Mrs. Bledsoe,” Cassius says. “After the ceremony, I’ll have my personal physician take a look at you.”

  “Why, I couldn’t possibly-”

  “I insist,” Cassius interrupts her. “You are the mother of a Recruit who prevailed during her Trials. You’ve also been like a mother to Lucky.” He smiles at me. “That makes us family.”

  “Lucky!” Cole runs over and pulls me to my feet. “You can see the whole Parish from up here!” He giggles. “Uncle Cass says everyone looks like itty bitty ants!”