Land of Masks and Moonlight (Glimpsing Stars, #2) Read online

  Zelia cocks her head, considering. "I suppose you're right. But you know...what I'd really like to know is where she was for the three or four months after she disappeared from the compound." She smiles at me, her shadowed, glazed eyes giving her a decidedly predatory appearance from behind her mask. "Who took you in, Vika?"

  Elara, even in her drugged state, stiffens, her eyes widening as she looks at me.

  Time is a string, pulled taut, plucked by a careless finger. The entire room hums. "We were in the wilderness."

  Zelia continues to stare at me. I can feel the eyes of the others on me as well, but I don't dare move my eyes from Zelia's. I'm afraid that if I do, she'll make a move so fast, so quick that I won't see it coming.

  Finally, in a quiet voice that slurs just the slightest bit, she says, "Pryor. Please take the baby."

  I clutch him to my chest and slide backward toward the far wall, my body aching from the ordeal it just went through to bring this life into the world. "No." My back hits the wall too soon; there's not enough room to move, to get away. "No, please. I'm telling you the truth."

  Pryor's shadow falls across me.

  "Please," I whisper to the baby-cheeked woman, searching for the smallest inkling of compassion. "Don't take him."

  "If you're telling the truth," Octavia slurs from behind Pryor. "Then how did you get the masks and dresses for today? And don't say you found them again. You know as well as we do that's a preposterous idea."

  When I say nothing, Pryor comes forward and puts her hands, roughly, drunkenly, on the baby. "No!" I push her away and get to my feet. The motion upsets him; he lets out an indignant cry, his little red face scrunching up.

  "Stop." Elara stands , her fists balled by her side. She looks positively sick with apprehension, but her eyes are hard. "She was with me."

  I let out the softest breath. The three other women swing their heads toward Elara.

  Zelia stands, too, a little unsteadily. She is so much taller than Elara. "What?"

  Elara glares at the other woman. "I gave her sanctuary." She fumbles for her mask and tosses it aside. "I kept her and her family safe."

  Zelia turns. "Pryor, go upstairs imme—"

  Elara begins to laugh, uproarious, hearty exhalations of air. The sound stops Zelia cold.

  "Don't bother, ladies," Elara says, still laughing. "You won't make it past the second flight of steps."

  CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

  Octavia comes forward, her eyes wide with fright. "What do you mean? What have you done?"

  Elara touches the bottle of scotch where it rests on the tray table. "I believe Zelia had a touch of intuition about it that she chose to ignore. I've poisoned you all." She turns to me. “Ceres is safe.”

  Relief floods through me and I sag back, the breath whooshing from my lungs.

  Zelia seems to have turned to stone. Pryor has begun to cry. I watch her, torn between feeling horrified and victorious, between feeling astounded that Elara has taken such a drastic measure and gratitude that she’s saved us.

  Octavia pales. "But you...you drank it, too.”

  Elara sits down on her chair, the movement clumsy, like she’s losing coordination. She stares at her feet. "I'd never survive the suspicion once you three are dead and Vika has escaped. There's nothing I want to live for, anyway." She looks up at me and when she speaks again, she slurs her words. "Find Shale. R-raise that baby for me. Keep him safe. No m-matter what."

  I nod, my eyes beginning to water.

  "N-no!" Pryor yells, staggering to the door. The baby startles at her exclamation and begins to cry; I kiss his forehead to quiet him. Pryor tugs weakly on the door handle, but it is locked. Zelia stumbles over with the key, but before she even gets there, Pryor crumples to the floor, unconscious.

  "Pryor!" Octavia tries to rush to her, but her feet tangle and she falls to the floor. She reaches out and puts her hand to Pryor's face. When she lifts it, there is blood on her fingers. "No," she whispers. "No...no." Her eyes drift closed, and she slumps over next to Pryor, as if she is asleep.

  Zelia's eyes blaze. I see it and open my mouth to warn Elara, but I am too late. She turns with a yell, and out of nowhere, there is a knife in her hand. She stumbles to Elara and, half-falling, plunges the knife into Elara’s chest. Elara's mouth opens in a silent scream; a bubble of blood forms between her lips. There is a sucking sound from deep, deep inside her.

  Horror at what I am witnessing seeps into every pore of my skin. I want to scream, to run away, to help Elara, but at the exact same time, I am motionless, paralyzed. My hands, of their own accord, press the baby to my chest. I am dimly aware that he is crying, but I can’t even turn my head to look at him. All I see is Elara, dying before me.

  Then Zelia pulls the knife out of Elara’s chest, a great sucking accompanying the movement, making me sick, so sick. A fountain of blood spurts from the open wound on Elara’s chest and she puts her hands up to it, weakly, in disbelief. How can there be so much blood from one person?

  Zelia staggers backward with the knife, its blade shining wetly. Then, abruptly, she crumples to the floor. The knife, its blade slick with Elara's blood, clatters against the stone, marking it with blood.

  Elara is still gasping for breath, blood dripping down her chin now. I scramble to my feet and rush to her, staring at the river of blood gushing down the front of her pale green dress, puddling in her lap. In the dim light, it looks like tar. "Elara..."

  She blinks. "Two weeks..." she manages to whisper. I can see that every word is another knife wound to her chest, but she struggles valiantly to talk. I hold her hand with the one I have free. I squeeze hard, trying to infuse as much warmth as I can into her cold, cold skin. “Two weeks until”—she stops and coughs, blood flowing from her mouth—“the war begins." She coughs again, the sound wet and rattling. More blood gushes from her mouth and she struggles to breathe. I squeeze her hand again, my mind spinning with the words she is uttering. Is it true? Or is this her near-death talk, utterly meaningless? "Y-you have to f-find a safe place by th-then. It’s g-going to be chaos.” She grips my hand tight, surprisingly tight for someone gasping out her last breaths. Her eyes sear mine. “K-keep the baby safe.”

  I nod furiously, though I don't know if she's coherent enough to understand what she’s saying. Then Elara’s eyes roll back in her head and she slumps in her chair. The wheezing stops, the tiny room now filled with bodies and utter silence, the likes of which I have never heard before. The baby slumbers, completely oblivious to all that has just transpired.

  I hear a sudden high-pitched gasping and realize it is coming from me. I let go of Elara’s hand, shut my mouth and pull my child close. "It's okay," I whisper, trying to keep my eyes off Elara and failing. I cannot feel anything. I am numb. I do not feel fear or sorrow or gratitude. There is just nothing inside me, a black hole. "It's okay. We’re okay."

  I tie the baby to my chest using the blanket—covered in child birth fluids, but I have no choice—on me. Then I pick Zelia’s knife off the floor. I keep my mind completely blank as I dry the congealing blood on the blade with my dress. My heart is pounding, my mouth is dry, but my thoughts are carefully dammed behind a cement wall. I snatch the keys off the floor near Zelia’s feet and rush out of the cell. I have to find Ceres.

  My legs seem infused with new energy. Liquid lightning streaks through my limbs. I run toward the stairs, flying past the cells, when I hear, “Vikki!”

  I turn to find Ceres standing at the slats of one of the cells that I thought was abandoned. But before I can figure out which key is which, she pushes the door open. I blink at her. “It wasn’t locked?”

  “No. El—Elara tr-tricked them. Sh-she told me...to wait.” She clutches at me, at the baby. Her face is shadowed, her eyes rimmed red with tears. “Wh-what happened?”

  I shake my head. Blank. My mind is blank. A memory—a bubble of blood sprouting between Elara’s lips—comes to me, but I wrestle it out. “There’s no time. Let’s go.”

>   We run up the stairs and see Marisa at the very top, her eyes wild, her mask in her hands. "You’re free!" She grabs me close and leans down to kiss the top of the baby’s head. He doesn’t stir. Then she caresses Ceres's cheek, a tender smile on her face. A tear drips down Marisa’s cheek, winding its way through wrinkles and lines that tell the story of her life. I watch it in mute fascination. "I wanted to storm in there and snatch you away. But Elara's plan was so much better, I went along with it. Even though it took much longer."She looks back down toward the stairs. "Where's Elara? Is she in the cell still?"

  I shake my head. "She..." I can’t bring myself to say the words.

  Marisa seems to understand. She looks away for a moment. I watch her profile, I see her throat spasm as she swallows. Then she turns back to me, her eyes wet, shining. "You have to leave. It won't be long before people come, looking for them."

  We follow her to a small door at the back of the building, which she opens using her key. "Go." Her voice is strong, authoritative. I can see why Elara trusted her so much. "And whatever happens, don't ever come back here again."

  I remember Elara’s warning, about the war. "And what about you, Marisa? What will you do? It won’t be safe for you here either."

  She smiles. "I've supplied the highest level officials with prostitutes and drugs. I'll find a home somewhere."

  I grip her hands tight. The baby snuffles in his sling. "Thank you. For everything."

  Tears cascade down her cheeks, but I still am not able to cry or even feel more than a hint of the sadness that seems to be overwhelming her. Perhaps something inside me died downstairs as well. "It was my pleasure knowing you, Vika," she says, using my real name for the first time. She must’ve caught wind of it when the women were holding me captive. "Now go."

  CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

  Ceres and I emerge from the yez for the last time, and the chilly night air wraps itself around us. I am thankful that it is spring; we wouldn’t be able to last outdoors very long in the winter. We have emerged in a clearing that leads into the thick vegetation of the plains. As we sprint forward, the door locks. I say a silent farewell to Marisa.

  "Where...are w-we going?" Ceres asks as we go deeper, tall plants and thick bushes surrounding us on every side.

  "Away," I say as I continue to stride forward. I wonder how long we can stay outside without cover before the baby starts to get sick. My mind is dull, fuzzy, but I force myself to think. My first mission is to get away from the warehouse—the most immediate danger for the moment.

  "What h-happened?" Ceres asks after a moment, her question interrupting the rhythmic sound of our footsteps across the plains. "To E-Elara?"

  I take a deep breath to control the pounding of my heart. Memories flash in my mind—the sucking sound in Elara’s chest, the puddle of blood in her lap. I am so thankful Ceres was spared having to witness any of it. “She poisoned the women, but she had to drink the poison herself to get them to trust her.” I look over my shoulder at the thin, small face of my younger sister. “She made a sacrifice for us.”

  Ceres is quiet as she digests this information. I glance at her as we continue our trek, but she doesn’t seem especially disturbed, just pensive. Finally she says, “May...maybe she felt bad. F-for making you l-leave Sh-Shale.”

  There is a tightening in my chest. It’s a thought I had myself, that maybe Elara acted out of guilt, that her self-sacrifice came from a kernel of self-loathing. But I don’t dwell too deeply on it. There is no time for that now. “Perhaps.”

  We are deep in the vegetation now, tromping through, cutting our path. The safest thing to do after we find Shale is to run away, into the wilderness, the abandoned outskirts of Shanwei.

  But first, we must find Shale.

  The thought of him is like a fist to my solar plexus. I don't know where to begin to look. He can't be at the compound. Did he disappear into the wilderness like he'd asked me to when I'd left to go stay with Elara? Would he just leave, without waiting for me, because I betrayed him by leaving first?

  Ceres and I walk about fifteen more minutes without talking, winding our way deeper and deeper. The moonlight casts a silver glow on everything, illuminating the swaying grasses. The movement is heating me up, and the baby begins to squawk. I reach into the sling and latch him on my breast. Having a full stomach will keep him sated for longer until I can think of a plan. Until I think of where we can go to find Shale.

  "Vikki?" Ceres says, her voice a tremulous whisper behind me. I turn. Her eyes glitter with silver tears. "Are...we going to d-die?"

  I grab her small chin in my hand. "No." I look deep into her eyes, more silver than gold in the moonlight, willing her to believe me. "I am not going to let anything happen to you or the baby. All right?" She just stares at me. "All right?"

  Finally, she nods. "A-all right." She reaches out and strokes the baby's back through the sling. "Where are we...g-going?"

  "I don't know yet." I need to do this right. I have two other people besides myself to protect now. I think hard, trying to tune out the noise of our surroundings and my body, my pounding heart, my roaring blood, insects and wind and leaves.

  And then...then I look up and smile. Because that sound I'm hearing, the whooshing of what I thought was my blood in my ears, isn't blood at all. It is the Yangtze River. “Ceres.” I grin at her. “Come on.” I grasp her hand and we move with a renewed energy, forward through the grasses, toward the river. Because I have remembered what Shale and I talked about once, a long time ago.

  I’d run away with you in a heartbeat, he’d said. And if we ran, it’d be to a place like this. Beautiful. Magical. Hidden. Our little secret.

  We arrive at the Yangtze, and it is just as magnificent as I remember from that night with Shale. Silver water undulates over rocks, rushing, rushing, thundering past. I stand for a moment, transfixed. Then I turn to Ceres. "Follow close behind me."

  She nods.

  I look at the gargantuan mountains hulking on either side of the river. Which way did we walk that night? I close my eyes for a moment and then step forward, letting the image of that magical night guide me.

  I walk to the right, feeling the moss- and lichen-covered walls of the mountain passes that tower over the Yangtze. The cave that Shale and I ducked into was covered with hanging ivy, like a verdant curtain. It is not as easy to see as it was that night, when we had lanterns. But then, just as I am wondering if we will ever find it, my hand grasps the hanging ivy. Fingers trembling, I part it and step through, Ceres close behind me.

  The cave is dank and dark, the whooshing of the river echoing over and over in the small space. I feel, rather than see, movement off to my left. But before I can spin around to face it, an arm grabs me from behind. I gasp, my hands flying up to the muscular forearm, and the person lets go immediately.

  I spin around, and Shale's voice whispers, "Vika?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

  I can barely see him. “Shale?” My voice quavers in the darkness.

  But he steps away. Unwilling to let go of the warmth of his body, the solid muscle that tells me he’s alive, I reach for him, but grasp the air. Then there’s a click of a lantern and I can see him.

  He stands just a foot away, tall and serious. His brown eyes stare into me. Relief floods my veins, turning my bones to taffy. I sag against the wall, exhaling in a great breath. He's okay. He's whole. And he's really here.

  Once my brain has processed that information, I feel the thick rope of doubt begin to tug at me. Have things changed? Has he moved on? Why is he staring at me like that, so serious?

  But then he smiles. And in that smile is everything I need to know. Nothing has changed for him. He’s been waiting, just as I have. His arms reach for me and, smiling, I step forward. Ecstasy, hope, and love flood my brain. It is only when his gaze drops down to the sling that I remember: we have a new addition Shale hasn’t yet met.

  His smile fades, but his eyes are full of wonder. "The baby?" he whispers, un
able, it seems, to tear his eyes from the top of his son’s head.

  "Yes.” I undo the knots to the sling on my back. “Today's his birth day."

  The baby snuffles and Shale puts his hand under his tiny back, supporting his weight on one forearm. He leans down, and ever so gently, plants a kiss on the baby's forehead. Then he looks up. "You said 'he.'"

  I smile. "It’s a boy. He surprised me." Elara was right after all.

  Shale comes forward and wraps me with one arm, the other still supporting the baby, who has now fallen fast asleep. He touches my mouth with his, a soft, warm meeting of the lips.

  "I'm so glad you found me," he whispers. "I hoped you’d remember to come back here.” His eyes rove my face. “I've missed you." Then he looks over at Ceres, who’s been watching quietly this whole time. “I’ve missed you too, you know.” He walks over to her and pulls her into a hug. After a moment, I see her thin arms wind around his torso, clutching him tight as if he is a lifesaver and she is stranded at sea.

  I blink back tears. Staying with Elara, being captured by the women, having the baby in a cellar—it has all led me here, to this one inevitable moment. And we are okay. We are all okay. When Shale walks back to me, I kiss him again, the baby cradled between us. "We are never going to be apart again."

  He chuckles, but his eyes glisten with unshed tears. "I can live with that." He strokes the curve of the baby's cheek. "What's his name?"

  "I didn't name him," I say. "I wanted you to be able to choose."

  Shale smiles. "Thank you."

  I lean into his chest and we both gaze down at our child. "Ceres says she's going to call him Little Love until we figure something out."

  Shale laughs softly. "Then let's figure something out quickly." After a pause, he says, "Do you want to name him after the New Amanian conventions? Something from the ground since he's a boy?"

  "No." I say it quickly, without even thinking. After the lies, after all the oppression, the last thing I want to do is pass on those broken customs to my child. He is not beneath me or anyone else.