Black City (Black City #1) 1

“Emissary Buchanan’s expecting you. She’s down in the laboratory.”

“But I’m not allowed in the labs . . . ?”

She shrugs. “Emissary Buchanan was very clear that you’re to meet her down there.”

I don’t have a chance to put the Darkling boy’s jacket anywhere, so I take it with me as I walk to a glass elevator, confused as hell as to why I’ve been asked to go to the labs. Why’s Mother letting me down there now? The elevator doors start to close, but a hand darts through them, prying them back open. Furious green eyes glare down at me.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Sebastian snaps, stepping into the elevator beside me.

“You didn’t have to come running after me.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw and punches the basement-floor button. The elevator slowly descends as we stand in silence, attempting to ignore the tension simmering between us. I can see his reflection in the glass, and my eyes trace the contours of his face: wide eyes, framed by brows that seem to be permanently knotted together; tanned skin newly darkened with day-old stubble; the small freckle on his lower lip that I’ve kissed a thousand times.

Never again.

My mind drifts to the boy under the bridge, and that tugging sensation I felt before pulls at my heart again. Weird.

“So?” Sebastian says.

“What?”

“Are you going to apologize for making me worry like that?” he says.

“Are you going to apologize for hunting me like some Darkling?”

“You’re being dramatic.”

“All I wanted was a few minutes alone, and you couldn’t even let me have that. You’re always following me.”

“It’s my job,” he says impatiently. “Your mother asked me to guard you.”

“I don’t need a babysitter. And for your information, the only reason she gave you the job is because I stupidly asked her to.” Back when I still loved you.

The elevator doors ping open. I push past Sebastian and walk out onto a metal platform overlooking a laboratory.

Sebastian grips my wrist. “Okay, fine, I admit it. I was following you, but so what? I care about you. Why can’t you accept that?”

“Why can’t you just accept the fact that we’re over? We’ve been over for months.”

“Because I can’t. I love you.”

I yank my arm free from his grip. “You don’t love me. You just want to date me because you think it’ll help your career.”

His eyes darken. “Don’t pretend it hasn’t crossed your mind that we’d both benefit from the arrangement. I’d buy you anything you want; I’d keep you in the life you’re accustomed to. I’m going places, Natalie. I’ll be the next Purian Rose one day, and I want you by my side when that happens.”

“As tempting as that ‘arrangement’ sounds,” I say sarcastically, “I’d never be your girlfriend again, not after—”

Mother’s voice rings up from the laboratory below.

“When will the new strain be ready, Craven?” she asks.

“A few weeks. I think we’ve singled out the gene that’s causing the problem,” Craven replies.

“You better have. I can’t afford any more screwups,” Mother says.

“Natalie’s back,” Sebastian calls down to them.

“Come down—it’s time you saw this,” she says.

We head down to the laboratory, a claustrophobic space of concrete and steel, and I’m excited to finally see what’s down here. To our right are four doors leading into small cells.

“What’s in there?” I ask Sebastian.

“The specimens, of course.”

Specimens? I gasp when I glimpse them through the cell windows.

Darklings.

Dozens and dozens of them, crammed like cattle into each tiny cell. I’m too stunned to move at first, horrified by the sight in front of me. As frightened as I am of Darklings, seeing them cramped together like this is still shocking.

In the first cell is a pack of Shu’zin Darklings—the purple-eyed, claw-footed creatures commonly found in the Copper State—shackled to the walls with heavy silver chains. All their hair has been shaved off, so it’s hard to tell which ones are male and which are female. They look back at me with glazed eyes, their expressions blank, like they’re already dead.

Sebastian pulls my arm, urging me on, but I have to see for myself what’s been kept hidden from me all these years. In the second cell, a small colony of Nordin Darklings hang upside down from the ceiling, their silky wings wrapped around their bodies. They’re the rarest of all Darklings, from the now-uninhabited volcanic regions in the Mountain Wolf State, famed for their flame-colored eyes and ice-white hair. They’re the only breed of Darkling with wings, and the one I fear the most. The Wrath that killed my father last year was a Nordin Darkling.

Sebastian taps the window on one of the cell doors, taunting the Darklings inside.

“We found whole families of them hiding in safe houses around the city,” he says. “I don’t know what goes on in their tiny brains. They know it’s against the law to climb over the Boundary Wall, and yet they continue to do it anyway.”

My father must be turning in his grave. He wanted to help the Darklings after he witnessed the horrors of the migration camps in the Barren Lands. He spent the last months of his life secretly working for them, and what did he get in return? A Wrath murdered him.

We carry on walking. I can’t see what’s inside the third cell with a silver marker above the door because the window is closed. Finally, I look into the last cell. A teenage boy sits on the floor, his head hunched over, his back to me. I can’t see his face, but the dark hair and pale skin are familiar. It’s the twin-blood! They found him!

The boy turns his head, sensing me. It’s not the twin-blood boy at all, but an Eloka Darkling—the most common breed found in the majority of states across the country—his face half rotted away from the Wrath. Revulsion crawls through me.

Mother and Dr. Craven, Sebastian’s father, stand beside a gurney in the center of the room, dressed in bloodied surgical scrubs. A Darkling is strapped to the gurney; at least I assume that’s what it is. It’s hard to tell when they get so ravaged by the Wrath, a plague that’s been killing the Darklings. All that remains are bones and teeth, barely concealed beneath a jelly-like membrane.

My chest starts to tighten, and I take a deep breath, worried I’m going to have a panic attack if I don’t get out of here soon. I feel like a fish in a shark tank, surrounded by all these monsters. If I’d known the lab would be filled with Darks, I wouldn’t have come down here.

“Do you know what time it is?” Mother says.

I innocently glance down at the antique wristwatch that used to belong to my father. The bronze casing is tarnished and the numbers are faded, but the unusual ivory watch face still has a beautiful golden sheen to it, like it’s been painted with a shimmering varnish.

“Well?” Mother presses.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

“You’re sorry? I had half the guard out looking for you. Do you know how dangerous it is out there? We have a curfew for a reason. What if you got attacked by a Darkling?”

An image of the twin-blood Darkling boy pops into my head. I bite my lip.

“I thought you’d grown out of this silly business of sneaking out at night. I wish I knew what you were thinking sometimes, Natalie,” she says.

Then why don’t you just ask? But she never does. Mother likes to do all my thinking for me. That way I can be the perfect, dutiful daughter she wants. Maybe if she left me alone once in a while, I wouldn’t have this constant, yearning need to escape. Roaming the streets at night is the only time I feel free.

“I’m cutting off your allowance for one month,” Mother says.

“But—”

“That’s final. And no more nighttime jaunts, do you understand, young lady?”

“Yes, Mother.”

The Darkling on the gurney lets out a pitiful moan and turns its yellow eyes on me. They’re eerily empty, and I realize what’s missing: hope. Rattled, I look away, not wanting to feel sorry for this creature, even though a part of me does.

Craven lowers his surgical mask and gives me a toothy smile. He’s tall, like Sebastian, and they have the same green eyes. The only difference is his hair, which is bronze and wiry, while Sebastian’s is blond and wavy. Craven’s the head of the Anti-Darkling Science and Technologies Department, where they make weapons to defend us from the Darks.

“You’ve grown big since I saw you last,” he says.

“It’s been a year. I’m sixteen now.”

“I hope my son took good care of you down in Centrum?” he asks.

“Of course I did,” Sebastian replies.

A jumble of emotions twist in my stomach. At least Sebastian has the decency to look ashamed. He came to live with me, Mother and Polly when we were evacuated to Centrum, and Craven was ordered to stay behind in Black City to continue his work. Sebastian was assigned to me as my personal bodyguard, and it was a great setup until . . . until the thing happened. I hate thinking about it.

“What are you doing with that Darkling?” I ask Craven.

“Testing a new anti-Wrath spray,” he says cheerfully, pointing to an aerosol on his workbench.

It has the words GO AWAY WRATH SPRAY! written on it in blocky red letters. Another spray? They seem to release a new one every month. I guess it’s a lucrative market; everyone is terrified of being attacked by a Wrath. It’s a dreadful way to die.

“It’s just a prototype, but it’s very effective. Watch.” Craven picks up the aerosol and sprays a foul-smelling gas over the Darkling on the gurney. The creature instantly writhes in terrible pain.

Sebastian covers his nose from the rotten scent, while I put a hand over my mouth to mask my shock. This isn’t science, it’s torture.

“Wonderful work, Craven,” Mother says.

I’ve seen enough.

“Can I please go?” I ask Mother.

“Don’t be so sensitive. It’s just an animal,” Mother snaps. “You need to toughen up if you’re going to work here.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.

“You’ve been accepted to the Fast-Track Science program,” Craven says. “After you complete this year at school, you’ll be my new intern. I thought you’d want to see where you’ll be working for the next five years of your life. I promise I won’t be a complete slave driver.”

“Congratulations,” Sebastian says.

My shoulders slump, thinking this must be some sort of joke. “I applied for the Political program.”

“I didn’t think a political career was right for you,” Mother says.

“So you changed my application without even consulting me?”

“I know what’s best for you. Not all of us are cut out to be politicians, Natalie,” Mother says.

“But—”

“Don’t be ungrateful. Very few people get on the Fast-Track, and Craven pulled a lot of strings to get you on the Science program.”

Why didn’t Mother “pull a few strings” to get me on the Political program like I wanted? The money and career prospects are so much better; not to mention, all my friends back in Centrum signed up for it. I don’t want to be the only one not doing it. It’s so embarrassing, especially since my mother is the Emissary.

“Cheer up, pumpkin. Working with me won’t be so bad,” Craven says.

I somehow doubt that. There’s no way I want to be involved in his “science experiments.” This must be evident on my face, because Mother lets out a tired, exasperated sigh—a sound I’m all too familiar with. My whole life has been one long disappointment to her. I’m sick of it.

So Mother wants me to toughen up? Fine! I make my expression as cold and steely as possible, determined to act like I’m not bothered by what’s happening around me, when all I really want to do is run away.

Craven turns his attention back to the Darkling on the gurney. The creature lolls its head in my direction again, and my eyes are drawn to its chest, where two hearts pulse rhythmically underneath its transparent skin. One heart is considerably smaller than the other, but beats much faster.

Craven notices me looking.

“The bigger heart is the primary heart. And this is the dual heart,” he says, pointing to the smaller one. “Typically they don’t beat, but we have seen some instances, like this one, where it has activated, although we’re not sure how or why. It’s fascinating really, almost as intriguing as twin-blood physiology. What I wouldn’t give to get my hands on one of them. A living creature with no heartbeat—”

Sebastian yawns loudly. He hates talking science.

Craven mutters under his breath as he picks up a syringe and sticks the needle in the Darkling’s arm. Gooey blood quickly fills the green-capped phial, and the Darkling lets out a pitiful howl, spraying spittle everywhere. Some of it lands on my face, and I hurriedly wipe it off.

“I’m not going to catch the Wrath now, am I?” I panic, thinking about the contaminated gunk that was just on my face.

“No, pumpkin.” Craven chuckles. “So far the virus has only affected Darklings, twin-bloods, and a few isolated wild dogs, but they have to be bitten or drink infected blood to contract it.”

I don’t like the way he says “so far,” like there’s a chance it’ll spread to humans.