He knew he looked sick.
He knew that’s all that Reed saw. Weakness. Illness.
Secrets.
Someone quickly becoming a liability to the gang.
A cramp twisted his body. He sank into the cushions in the corner as the last of his strength gave out, exhaustion snipping the tendons holding him upright. It wasn’t supposed to happen this fast.
Alden glanced over his shoulder and frowned, his icy gaze softening. “Nate.”
“Please.” Nate’s teeth chattered. “Hurry.”
“So pushy,” Alden said tightly as he unlocked the cabinet and shifted aside delicate bottles full of street-meds and chem-laced tinctures. He exposed an antique safe and pressed a code into the switchpad that Nate had installed two years ago. The door creaked open to reveal thin glass vials of pale-blue liquid—Remedy. “If you’re in such a hurry, go back to the city for it.”
Nate choked on a grunt of laughter. “I’ll pass.”
In Gathos City, he’d be kept in a chilled box, hooked up to a machine cycling air and waste. He’d sleep forever, fed upon until his body finally decayed. GEMs kept the wealthiest people healthy and happy in the city. But even the poorest in the city had unimaginable luxuries. Soft, clean beds. Climate control. Fast cars and motorized bicycles. Bright lights that gleamed night after night across the sludge-channel. Beautiful music that drifted toward the Withers when the wind shifted on a quiet day.
I can’t remember.
Nate hugged his middle, trying to banish the memory of what his aunt Bernice had always told him about the fate of GEMs in Gathos City. He didn’t want to think about the horror, only the short time he’d felt safe in the city’s skyscrapers—the snatches of patchy memories. Ivy greener than anything in the Withers, clear water that tasted sweet and clean, and playing in the sun-warmed dirt of his mother’s greenhouse, lungs full of damp air thick with the rich scent of growing things. Her voice, sweet and babbling like running water, filling every silence with words he couldn’t recall.
“Don’t vomit on my upholstery.” Alden decanted the Remedy into a smaller vial. The liquid gleamed vivid blue, as if lit from within.
“Where do you get it?” Nate asked, not for the first time.
Alden prided himself on carrying the rarest, most expensive chem, but Remedy was something else altogether—medicine that wasn’t supposed to exist outside of Gathos City. The med clinics didn’t have it. The Servants didn’t have it.
“That’s not for you to worry about.” Alden locked the safe and hid the entrance with dusty bottles. He quieted. “You can’t tell anyone you’re getting it from me. You can’t let anyone find out.”
Like Bernice with her spotted hands and her gaze as sharp as a live wire.Never tell them what you are. Never let them know.
Nate was so tired of keeping secrets. He had to sleep so he wouldn’t feel the sick coming on, like his lungs were filling with cold sludge. He needed to rest. He didn’t want to think about the haunted sound of Alden’s words. He didn’t want to think at all.
He closed his eyes.
“Natey.” Alden pushed Nate’s hair behind his ears with trembling fingers. “You have to wake up, honey. I didn’t know it was that bad. You know that, don’t you? Open your eyes and drink this up. Be sweet for me and take your medicine.”
“I know what you’re really worried about.” Nate groaned and welcomed the clink of glass against his teeth. He didn’t want to be awake, but he didn’t want it to hurt anymore either.
Alden tipped the vial onto Nate’s tongue and made soft, clucking sounds. “Don’t fuss, Nate. Drink it all.”
Nate didn’t need encouragement. He swallowed the acrid liquid, Remedy burning down his throat, and licked his lips to catch every drop. A cool, pleasant sensation seeped through his chest. Whatever it was made of, Remedy chased the sick out of him like the chem people took to heal rotting wounds and ward off fevers.
“Alden, you’re a prick.” Nate opened his eyes. “You could have killed me.”
“Me? If I hadn’t spotted you wandering like a lost kitten, you would have died on my doorstep. What did you think you were doing, waiting to see me when you felt that bad?”
“I lost track,” Nate said, cross. He didn’t want to admit the truth.
It’s getting worse.
Alden’s voice was close. “Your life isn’t something you should lose track of.”
With the pain gone, Nate’s senses returned to him gradually. The dry, musty scent of old cushions flooded his nose. Alden clutched Nate to his narrow frame, sharp elbows stabbing him with each breath and long hair tickling his nose. Nate batted at the blue-black strands, and a rush of fondness chased away the last of the hurt. Though he knew he should hold on to anger, his falling-out with Alden still gnawed at his heart.
Before Alden’s relentless hunger had spoiled everything, he’d been Nate’s only friend.
