‘You too,’ I say, closing the door. When I come out a few minutes later, he’s gone. So is the scent of violets.
* * *
After lunch we head back up the hill, Ruth taking a different street than we did coming down. There’s a building on one side of the road, a large square place with a blue metal roof, people lined up outside.
‘What’s that place? Is it a club?’
Ruth sort of curls her lip, her brow furrowing. ‘It’s a harvesting plant, of course.’
‘A what?’
Ruth shakes her head. ‘Surely you know about them, I mean…’ She’s really frowning at me, and I know I’ve slipped up.
‘Oh, is that what it is?’ I say, trying to cover my error. ‘Of course, I didn’t realise. I guess the one near us is different. So it’s where everyone goes to, er…’
‘Be harvested? I know you don’t have a blood port.’ She gestures to her elbow. ‘So your parents must have been part of a great house, for you to have avoided that fate. Where’s your mark?’
I’m frozen. Of course I’m part of a great house. One of the greatest. Fuck. And what does she mean by a mark?
Ruth rolls up her other sleeve, turning her arm to reveal the pale underside. I feel sick. Burned into her skin, red scar against white, is my family mark. Raven.
‘Um, my mark, it’s um, well, it’s under my clothes,’ I whisper, because I can’t trust myself not to start crying.
Ruth’s face creases with what looks like sympathy. ‘Oh my dear,’ she says. ‘Mistral, then, is it? I hear he likes to brand his dancers, especially the young women, in more… intimate places.’
I nod, feeling even worse. Fucking Mistral. That sounds like him, sleazy bastard. The ache of anger returns to my chest, like a flame inside me.
‘I’m sorry I asked, dear.’ Ruth takes my hand, squeezing it, her face still crumpled with concern. ‘Come on, shall we go along here? I have some shopping to do.’
‘Wait.’ I’m mesmerised by the shuffling line of people making their way into the building, as though they’re being slowly sucked inside. Ruth says nothing, still holding my hand. ‘That little girl today, the one we saw. She… she doesn’t, surely she doesn’t have to…’ I’m going to throw up, I know it. Or scream.
Ruth tilts her head, eyes shrewd on me. ‘No, she doesn’t. Not yet. But she’ll be thirteen soon enough, taken to be assessed. If she’s lucky, she might get chosen as free-range, a blood dancer. If not…’ Her eyes go to the shuffling line.
‘If not?’ I whisper the words.
Ruth’s gaze comes back to me. ‘She’ll be branded, have her blood port cut in, then be sent to the plant for her first harvesting. And so on, every month for the rest of her life.’
Tears fill my eyes. ‘That’s awful.’ I’m still whispering, my throat feeling thick and sore. What the fuck. I’m trying to recover from everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve been told, and how different it is from what I imagined. Butthis. I swallow down bile. This is who my family are. WhoRavenare. To these people, anyway.
‘It’s life.’ Ruth shrugs. ‘At least, it is now. It’s the deal we made.’
‘The deal?’
‘With the vamps, of course. They let us have electricity, water, warmth and light, live a semblance of a normal life. In return, we give them our blood. It seemed the best option, at the time. But now…’ Her gaze becomes distant, then fixes on me once more. ‘Surely you learned this at school? The Red Rising, then the Famine, and the Blood Agreement?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I mean, I learned some of it. I guess, just not… I was tutored at home.’ Shit. That slipped out. But I’m shaken to my core. I knew about the Blood Agreement, of course. But it had always been told to me as a happy ending, that everyone was safe. Not this… this trap of an existence. The desire to tear it all apart washes over me, fierce and strong.
Ruth says nothing, her dark eyes on me. I meet her gaze, my lips trembling. ‘Come on then,’ she says. ‘Let’s get to the market before all the good things are gone.’ But she’s still watching me. I shrug, like it’s no big deal, and start walking again.
As we continue past the harvesting plant I notice something daubed in black paint on the rear wall, like a scar on the pale painted metal. At first I can’t figure out what it is. Then I realise. It’s a raven. In a noose. Underneath are five familiar words.The North Wind will blow. Ruth stops again.
‘Don’t you worry about that.’
My lips press tight together against sickness. I’m not worried. I understand, now. More than she can know.
‘It’s just nonsense,’ Ruth says.
‘But—’
