Until Midnight (Alienated) Page 11

  She loosened her ponytail and pulled her auburn strands forward to see if they’d cover her breasts, but no dice. With a frown, she secured her hair with the jeweled clasp Elle had given her as a sponsor gift, then donned her robe as the first yawning clone shuffled in, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

  Cara didn’t know the girl’s name. She hated to admit it, but most of the clones still looked the same to her. “Mahra,” Cara said, shrinking back at her own loud echo. She hadn’t learned many words yet, but she could manage hello, good-bye, and sorry, pardon my ignorance.

  The girl paused, taking in the circular bronze emblems that adorned the shoulders of Cara’s ceremonial robe. They were symbols of the Sacred Mother, L’eihr itself, and the stark white of the fabric represented the purity of heart with which Cara would pledge her fealty to the planet. Funny how white stood for virtue no matter which galaxy you inhabited.

  The girl pursed her lips in hesitation, and after scanning the room as if to ensure they were alone, she offered a curt “Wel-come,” in broken English before striding to a nearby toilet enclosure. It wasn’t much, but that quiet greeting was more than Cara had received from her schoolmates since she’d joined their ranks.

  Maybe this Sh’ovah was a good idea after all.

  Another girl strode into the washroom, and she was one of the few clones Cara recognized. She carried herself with more arrogance than the rest, and her mouth was always pinched in a scowl. Her name was Dahla, and she’d been the first to give Cara “the finger.”

  Cara tipped her head in a greeting and waited for the girl to do the same. But Dahla tossed back her ponytail and strode toward the toilets, making sure to bump Cara’s arm extra hard when she passed.

  “Open your eyes,” Dahla said in English. “Clumsy human.”

  Refusing to be baited, Cara held her head high and returned to her room. She reminded herself of what Aelyx had said. Everything would be all right. The clones simply needed time to get used to her.

  She clung to the remnants of that confidence hours later, when Troy’s knuckles rapped on her bedroom door. “Elle isn’t here,” she told him. Cara suspected that most of his visits were really covert missions to cozy up to her roommate.

  “Good,” Troy said. “’Cause I want to talk to you alone.” He flicked a glance at her robe and took a step back, eyeing her warily, as if she might detonate if he got too close. He wrinkled his nose and extended one index finger. “Are you naked under there?”

  Cara wrapped the lapels more snugly across her chest and tightened the belt at her waist. “Don’t be such a prude. I’m more covered up now than all the times you’ve seen me in a bathing suit.” Thank God that only L’eihr citizens could attend her Sh’ovah. She’d die a thousand deaths if Troy saw her naked. But to complete her ruse of boldness, she added, “There’s nothing obscene about the human body. You’re only ashamed because our society taught you to be.”

  He folded his arms and focused over her shoulder, taking an abrupt interest in her room. Not that there was anything remotely interesting in there. Bare gray walls and minimalist furnishings made up her décor, consisting of a bunk bed and a cabinet that looked like a cross between an armoire and a refrigerator.

  “I can’t have a conversation with you while you’re naked,” Troy complained. “It skeeves me out.”

  “Then come back later.”

  “I can’t. It’ll be too late then.”

  “Too late for what?”

  Puffing in exasperation, he turned to face her. “Too late to talk you out of this citizenship stuff. You don’t belong here, Pepper. This place is…uh…” He deliberated over his next choice of words, then leaned in and confided, “Intense.” While she shook her head, Troy hitched a thumb toward Aelyx’s vacant room a few doors down. “Listen, I know you like this guy—”

  “Love,” she corrected. “I love this guy.”

  “Right.” He flashed his most condescending whatever face. “But you’ve got nothing in common. It won’t last.”

  Cara gripped her waist. “Just because you change girlfriends before your gum loses flavor doesn’t mean my relationship is doomed to fail.”

  “It’s basic statistics.” His blue eyes flashed to hers. “You know what the divorce rate is for teens?” Without giving her a chance to guess, he announced, “Three times the national average.”

  “The national average is fifty percent, Einstein.”

  “Then you have a one hundred and fifty percent chance of breaking up. Even higher if you take into account that you’re from different worlds. That brings it to”—he counted silently on his fingers—“like, four thousand percent.”

  Poor Troy. What he lacked in brains he made up for in…well, something other than brains. “I found my match,” Cara said. “Why should I be penalized because I’m young? Besides, it doesn’t matter, because I’m not getting married.” Matrimony didn’t even exist here. L’eihrs declared a l’ihan and that was that. Zero drama.

  “You promised to stay here and be with him for life. It’s the same thing, minus a piece of paper.”

  She couldn’t dispute that, so she adopted a new tactic. “It’s none of your business.”

  “Wha—” He blinked at her in silence for a few beats. “You’re my sister!”

  She couldn’t dispute that, either—she didn’t want to. She’d always wished Troy would take an interest in her life. It was a shame he’d waited until now to play the role of protective big brother. In less than a week, he’d be gone again.

  They’d never been touchy-feely types, but Cara rested her fingertips on his forearm. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I expect you to support me.”

  That seemed to get through to him. “Fine. When things don’t work out, I guess you can catch the next transport to Earth.”

  Cara sighed. If he didn’t believe her, nothing she said would change his mind. She told him good-bye and slid the door shut.

  Elle returned from the medical lab right before lunchtime, greeting Cara with a smile and a l’ina sandwich. Vero, who rode atop Elle’s shoulder, greeted her with a beady-eyed glare and a growl, flicking his long tail like a cat to show his displeasure.

  “Ve-ro!” Elle warned the creature.

  With his racoonish gray paws, Vero covered his eyes, reminiscent of a toddler who knew he’d done wrong. He peeked out from between his tiny digits and howled aaaeee-oooo at Cara. It sounded like haaaate yooou, which was probably what the little pillow-pisser meant.

  Cara shot daggers at her deceptively cute, fuzzy nemesis, using her eyes to warn him away from her bed. She took the sandwich from Elle, but when she brought the flatbread to her lips, the meat’s smoky aroma made her stomach lurch, so she set it on her desk and pushed it aside. “Thanks, but I’d better save it for later.”

  Elle whispered a L’eihr command to Vero, and the animal leaped onto Cara’s desk and began nibbling on her discarded sandwich. While brushing a few bits of fur from her shoulder, Elle said, “You’re nervous.”

  Cara didn’t deny it.

  “L’eihrs aren’t conditioned to feel scandalized by nudity,” she said in that no-nonsense way of hers. “Most of us were raised in this Aegis since birth. Imagine all the times we’ve seen one another’s bodies. Yours is no different.”

  An arch of Cara’s brow told her otherwise.

  “All right,” she conceded. “You have a navel and we don’t.”

  “Plus pale skin, orange hair, and freckles.” Cara patted her thighs. “And flab,” which the clones didn’t possess, thanks to their freakish obsession with exercise.

  “I give you my word that—”

  Before Elle could continue, Vero screeched a litany of complaints from the bottom cot, where he’d just crouched over Cara’s brand-new pillow.

  “No!” she and Elle cried, each thrusting out one palm in mirrored desperation.

  It was too late. Vero finished his business and chirped something that sounded exactly like owned! owned! Then he ran to t
he door, high-fived the keypad, and scurried out into the hall before they could catch him.

  “Happy Sh’ovah Day to me.” Cara held her pillow at arm’s length and carried it to the sanitation bin in the hallway. Farewell, pillow number seven.

  After washing her hands in the restroom, she returned to Elle, whose shrugging shoulders said, I’m sorry, while her twitching lips said, This is funny as hell. Cara’s mouth curved against her will. It was the first time she’d seen her roommate laugh, and the snickering was infectious.

  “It really is a simple ceremony,” Elle assured her with a comforting pat on the hand. “I’ll lead the way, and you’ll follow right behind me. Once the head Elder delivers her speech, The Way will begin your Covering.”

  “Smearing mud on me, you mean?”

  Elle clucked her tongue. “You make it sound so base. It’s not muck from the ground, Cah-ra. The valeem is like your holy water. It’s imported from the third precinct, where the ground is rich and fertile. They use only the purest soil, and it’s blessed before the ceremony.”

  Pure soil? Cara was pretty sure that was an oxymoron, like sanitary landfill or jumbo shrimp. “And everyone’s been through this, right?”

  “Every single one of us,” Elle promised. A wistful smile enlivened her face, and she fell silent for a few moments, as if reliving a cherished memory. “I was fifteen—older than most of my friends when they crossed over, but the Elders wouldn’t recommend me until I’d demonstrated patience. It was the happiest day of my life.”

  Despite her fear, Cara couldn’t deny feeling a tingle of anticipation. It made her think of her many-greats grandmother O’Shea, who’d left Ireland for America. Just like Grandma O’Shea, Cara would rebuild her life on a new world, and this was the first step in bringing that future to fruition. She could do this—become a L’eihr—and help cement the alliance between two planets.

  “Are you ready?” Elle asked.

  With a firm nod, Cara answered, “Born ready.”

  When they reached the open doors leading to the courtyard, Elle walked in slow, measured strides into the brightness of day. To Cara’s surprise, she didn’t hesitate to fall into place, her bare feet moving across the spongy sidewalk. She trained her eyes on the back of Elle’s head instead of the continuous rows of uniformed teens in her periphery. Soon, the soft tickle of grass replaced pavement, and Elle stopped, reaching out for Cara’s hand.

  To their left, the clones stood at attention like a battalion receiving orders, backbones stiff, arms held rigidly by their sides as they stared through her. The Way had positioned themselves on Cara’s right, all ten leaders standing erect, clad in cloaks of deepest brown, their expressions more lively than she’d ever seen. Clearly, this was a happy occasion for them, if not for the clones. They formed a semicircle around a waist-high brass trough that seemed to absorb the sunlight instead of reflecting it the way other metals did.

  When she peered inside, she didn’t find the black, gritty sludge she’d expected. The valeem appeared claylike—a smooth burnt-orange porridge that bore a slight resemblance to half-baked pumpkin pie filling. Occasionally, a lazy bubble would disrupt the soup and burp to the surface, filling the air with the seasoned sweetness of cloves.

  The ancient Alona drew a breath and asked in English, “Who guarantees this girl’s integrity?”

  “I guarantee it,” Elle replied. She extended their linked hands toward Alona, and with flawless timing, released her as the old woman claimed Cara’s fingers.

  Alona’s grasp was cool, but stronger than Cara had anticipated, and she remembered that while the Elders seemed as frail as baby’s breath, they were only in their fifties.

  Alona delivered a message to the assembly in L’eihr while Elle quietly translated. She told the story of the Sacred Mother, who’d loved this majestic planet so fiercely, she’d sacrificed her immortal body by splitting herself into half a dozen equal pieces, each one forming the six gods and goddesses of L’eihr. Her “children” went on to create the topography, oceans, animals, and intelligent beings that populated the world. And just as the Sacred Mother had surrendered her body and spirit to give life to the planet, in turn, each citizen was expected to devote his or her existence to the betterment of L’eihr. It was a beautiful story with parallels to many of Earth’s religions, and the similarities made Cara feel closer to home.

  “Cah-ra Sweeney, l’ihan to Aelyx of the first Aegis,” Alona spoke. “Do you join your fate with the Sacred Mother—freely, of your own choosing, and without duress?”

  Cara cleared her throat. “Yes.”

  “Will you devote your existence to the advancement of L’eihr?”

  “Yes.”

  “And will you submit to The Way in all matters, without fail?”

  Cara hesitated. Submission wasn’t really her cup of tea, but she knew any further delay would insult her leaders. Without waiting another second, she licked her lips and sealed her fate.

  “Yes.”

  “Then let me be the first to welcome you, sister.” Alona’s clouded gray eyes sparked alive. Although the woman hadn’t initiated Silent Speech, a trickle of emotion leaked from her gaze—one of pure hope. Alona believed that Cara would lead others to the colony, that they’d join their societies and bring the spirit of humanity to the clones. Cara didn’t know whether to feel flattered or terrified. It seemed The Way had some serious expectations of her.

  Alona raised Cara’s hand into the air, and in flawless synchronization, the entire assembly shouted, “Welcome, sister!” in the militant voices of their native tongue.

  The old woman’s eyes shifted to Cara’s robe, a silent message that the time had come to bare it all. Cara glanced at Elle for confirmation, hoping she’d say, Just kidding! Did you really think you’d have to get naked? then laugh and clap her on the shoulder. But, of course, she didn’t say those things. She nodded and took her place in line behind The Way.

  Cara brought ten trembling fingers to her waist and fumbled with the belt tie. After three tries, she worked the knot free and untangled its ends, then brought both hands to her lapels and clutched the stiff fabric like a security blanket. Suddenly she realized she didn’t know what to do with the robe once she’d shed it. Let it fall to the ground? Sling it over one arm? She glanced at Alona, who seemed to understand.

  “I’ll hold it,” she whispered, extending an arm.

  If Cara was going to do this, she’d do it right. Taking a deep breath, she peeled back the lapels of her robe and pulled her arms free, then handed the garment to Alona and faced the sea of clones, staring through them as they’d done to her.

  Instantly her cheeks burst into flames, her entire body flushing so red hot, she expected to see fire shoot from her fingertips. A light wind brushed her naked flesh in places she’d never felt the breeze before, but the oddest sensation of all was the pressure of five hundred curious gazes. The attention crackled over her like static electricity—invisible but very real.

  Alona used her free hand to dip into the trough. She cupped the thick liquid and then poured it over Cara’s left shoulder, where it trickled downward to coat her arm. It was warmer than she’d expected, and her muscles relaxed in response. The next Elder repeated the process on the other side, and when Jaxen’s turn came, he scooped two handfuls of mud and spilled them across her lower abdomen, essentially creating a dripping bikini. It was an oddly chivalrous act, and she thanked him with her eyes.

  Elle heaped two layers of mud over Cara’s chest, kindly concealing “the girls” from view, and then the first group of clones approached. But instead of cupping a handful of valeem, the six of them dipped their index fingers just deep enough to coat the tips. They passed her quickly, not bothering to meet her gaze when they tapped their nails against her chest.

  It didn’t take a sociologist to interpret the message: they would participate in the ceremony, but that didn’t mean she was welcome. On and on it went, each group of six offering the least required of them by thei
r leaders.

  Cara’s skin felt tight and tingly in a way that had nothing to do with the clay beginning to dry across her body. She dug her fingernails into her palms and lifted her chin as she completed the rite of passage that marked her transition into adulthood. Once the last clone had marked her, Cara wrapped a dark blanket around her shoulders and waited for Alona to dismiss the assembly for the Sh’ovah feast.

  But just as Alona drew a breath to make the announcement, a deafening whistle sounded from above. The entire group turned their gazes skyward, where a tiny ball of flame—a meteorite, perhaps—streaked the beige clouds. Quickly, the flame drew nearer and the shrieking became so loud it stung her ears. It didn’t take long for the assembly to realize that the object was headed right for them, and bodies scattered in all directions while voices screamed and shouted commands Cara couldn’t understand. She clutched her blanket and bolted for the protection of the Aegis wall, barely reaching it when a crash boomed from behind.

  Once she’d reached a safe distance, she turned and surveyed the damage, surprised to discover that the only casualty of the fiery impact was the steaming vat of mud. Orange valeem lay in puddles around broken bits of metal, and in the heart of the debris rested a softball-size orb. From where Cara stood, it didn’t look like a meteorite. She could swear she saw colored lights twinkle from its surface, but before she could get a better look, Jaxen removed his cloak and draped it over the sphere. The Elders glanced nervously at one another and then commanded the students to go inside.

  From all around her, the clones murmured in confusion but did as they were told. Cara filed inside with them, casting occasional glances over her shoulder at the lump beneath Jaxen’s cloak.

  What was that thing? And why was he trying to hide it?