“The club?” My voice comes out croaky.
“I didn’t know what they were going to do,” he insists. “Or that it was the night we were going to be there when they decided to do the big drain.”
When they drugged and killed at least fifty people, he means.
“The vamps put something into the air-con unit?” I ask.
He nods. “It’s like an aerosol version of Rapture. Gets people high really fast. They lose their inhibitions and something about their blood afterwards gives the vamps a major power boost.”
“We were all there. All drugged out of our heads without realizing and what... you were meeting Simpson in a back alley while it was all going on?”
“I was in one of the vamp booths,” he admits, tugging at his sleeves like he’s finally feeling uncomfortable. “We had a deal. None of you would get hurt. That’s what I made them swear.”
I have to fight not to roll my eyes. Because vamps are so good at sticking to their promises. Simpson certainly comes across as a trustworthy guy.
Ember’s eyes are wide and pleading. His red hair’s a mess and he looks about as exhausted as I feel. Helookslike my Ember. The guy who’s so laid back, he never worried about money or having a place to stay as much as the rest of us. The guy whose art was all he really cared about.
“You want to rule the city?” I ask him. The ‘since when’ is pretty obvious without me having to speak the words. Ember didn’t want to rule our household or his own damn life six months ago.
What happened? When exactly did that change and I didn’t notice?
There’s another shout of raucous laughter from the vamps downstairs. Something smashes and then I hear them tramping up the stairs, coming closer to this room. My heart rate picks up and I take a deep breath, trying to keep it steady.
They head right on past the room we’re in and I breathe out slowly.
I need to stay calm. They’ll be able to sense if I’m panicking, and then they’ll wonder why.
There’s another almighty crash followed by a chaotic jumble of sounds, like they’ve just chucked a piano down the stairs.
Maybe they have.
They whoop and cheer. Egging each other on like a bunch of mindless idiots.
It’s like a pack of hyenas have set themselves up as de facto leaders of the city.
Murderous hyenas.
And I thought the Archarcans were bad enough.
I mean, they are. They’re arrogant. Elitist. How many stains are there on their collective consciences? How many people have died through neglect because they weren’t powerful enough to be important? Or how many others have been imprisoned or executed because they didn’t fit the mold and were at risk of being too strong?
Like me.
Rook.
Hanna.
Luna.
Ember too, I’d guess.
“I watched you struggle foryears,Silv.All of us were scraping by and you were working harder than anyone. You’re powerful. Brave. Smart. You deserve to be free to do what you want. But because of how this city is run, because of the messed up hierarchy. We’re the dregs of society.” He runs a hand through his hair, making it even more of a mess. “Things in Nexus were already changing. People are unhappy with your princes and their fathers ruling the roost and never strugglingwith anything. It’s easy to believe things are the same all over the city.”
I rub my tired eyes, fighting an exhausted sigh.
The thing is, he’s not wrong.
He’s not so wildly off-base that I can discount what he’s saying either. It’s all true.
