His arms tighten. “Gods. This has never happened before! I didn't think … did they … did you?—”
“No.” I pull back enough to meet his eyes. “Nothing happened. I'm fine.”
He starts to apologize, but a shriek cuts him off.
Chapter Three
The Shroud has torn through the Noxbridge campus like a storm. Through the fog, I make out students, staff, and guards wandering in a daze. Bags and books litter the ground. What I can see of it, anyway.
My breath hitches as I catch sight of the wall. One of the Council's four coats of arms has been painted over. Red letters streak down the stone.
Curiosity is a poison that must be contained.
I grab the back of Jordi's cloak and pull him toward the alley. We stop at the edge and stare. Jagged lines of red drip from each letter, over the closed eye that represents the House of Truth on the crest, and accumulate on the sidewalk in a sanguine puddle. The illusion it creates will probably enrage the Council more than anything else.
They’re nothing, if not particular, about spilled blood. A gray parrot glides through the alley, the green amulet at its throat glinting. My grip tightens on Jordi's cloak as we watch it pass. No doubt taking mental notes to report back to the Council like a good little silent guard. Once it’s gone, I turn back to the words on the wall.
Curiosity is a poison that must be contained.
I recognize the words. The Council gives every resident a book at the welcoming ceremony, and this phrase is on the first page. But seeing it painted here, like this, feels like a taunt. Which makes no sense.
Lunarian residents don't grasp the concept of indoctrination. They don't know about the Council's erasure or censorship. So who wrote this? I drift closer to the wall without meaning to. I'm so lost in thought that I don't notice the bag on the ground until I trip over it.
"Goddess strike me!" Jordi rushes over.
I turn, expecting him to help me up, and see the horror on his face. Not a bag. A body. I yelp and scramble back as I stare at the man. His green eyes are wide, and his mouth is open as if he was frozen mid-scream. A scream that never came.
“Oh my …Is he dead?!”
“There's another behind you!” Jordi crouches and tears off his cloak. “Give me your supplies.”
My head whips around. Another laborer. Same uniform. Same frozen expression.
“Supplies!” Jordi snaps, and I force myself to move.
My hands shake as I tear open the bag and set it between us. I examine the laborer I tripped over. No pulse. No blood. No signs of attack.
I glance up at Jordi. He wears the same confusion I feel. Without looking at me, he leans in and yanks off the man's green amulet. I hold my breath.
A year ago, Jordi became convinced our amulets were linked to our memories. That the memory stones were linked to the Shroud. He talked about it endlessly — at the library, the tavern, the dining hall — until we gave him enough reasons why it was impossible.
If it were true, we'd have flashes of memories every time we removed our amulets. We’d dream of our pasts. We don't. Evenso, I’m not sure what good taking off a dead man’s amulet would do. Nothing happens. I let out a breath.
“What could have caused this?”
“I don’t know! How would I know?” I look up, pulse rushing to my ears again when I see two more fallen men, also wearing laborer uniforms, in the middle of the alley.
“Gods.” Jordi glances over his shoulder to follow my line of vision and looks at me again. “You interned at the Hall of Reflection. The Whispering Ponds. You must have seen something like this!”
“I've never seen anything like this!” I don’t bother pointing out that while I did intern at those places, my specialty lies in avian creatures, not people. “What about you? All those books in the vaults?”
He frowns and shakes his head. “The closest thing I've read is the book about the Shroud and the memory stones. The one I tried to show you.”
I open my mouth to respond, and shriek when the man in front of Jordi inhales sharply and shoots upright. His hands close around my brother's throat. I lunge forward, shouting, pulling at the man's arms. He doesn't let go.
“My daughter!” the man screams. “Give me back my daughter!”
Jordi gasps, clawing at the hands around his neck.
