The Gender Game 2: The Gender Secret Read online

  It was eerie how quiet it was up here. I stared at the canopy below, knowing it was teeming with life. Yet up here, nothing moved.

  The Green was toxic. Just like the river that flowed out of it—polluted and dangerous, anyone exposed for too long could suffer serious lesions that resulted in death. It drew my mind back to my brother, when he had fallen in the water on that fateful day I had tried, and failed, to smuggle him into Patrus. I had no way of knowing for sure if he had survived the water, but I still held hope that he was all right.

  Lies, lies, lies, my mind whispered to me. It flashed to one of the pictures that sat in the backpack below my seat. Of the words Lee had carved into the windscreen of King Maxen’s gold sedan before the bomb. FOR THE MEN YOU WILL DECEIVE. I scowled. It wasn’t just men who were being deceived. Matrus was clearly doing the same thing with their citizens. Two civilizations were being lied to. I had been used, betrayed, and almost killed over this egg. I wanted the truth. I deserved the truth.

  But I had no idea how to find it, short of returning to Matrus or Patrus. Besides, my priority was my brother now.

  I looked at my compass, watching the needle swing as I circled the motorcycle in the sky.

  Maybe I had imagined the flash of white. Or perhaps it was a reflection of something… maybe a body of water reflecting the moonlight.

  I needed to stop looking for things that weren’t there, and focus on what was. I was wasting time. But as I straightened the wheel, fixing it to the north in hope of discovering some clue about my brother, the strange flash of white caught my attention again.

  Curiosity getting the better of me, I tilted the aircraft and steered toward it.

  The dark canopy whizzed by underneath the carriage. I was too high for it to hit, but it was a bit disconcerting. I saw the white more clearly now as it flashed again, but I couldn’t make out what it was from this distance…

  A gust of wind swept up from nowhere, causing the aircraft to shake. My heart in my throat, I gripped the handlebars and adjusted my course, keeping my feet firmly planted on the floor beneath me.

  The propellers groaned as the wind continued to assault the motorcycle. For a second, I rose several feet, only to drop down again, the propellers catching the air. Adrenaline flooded my body, my heart pounding in fear. My knuckles had become white from the strain of holding on.

  Again the wind buffeted the aircraft, forcing it to rise and drop. I started to angle to one side, the wind pushing me and the aircraft further. My instinct was to turn into the wind—I tilted the tire sharply, and began to bank into it. It howled in my ears as I turned, shifting my hips and body. Beneath me, the motorcycle gave a deep shudder.

  I kept turning hard until the wind was at my back again, and I was soaring. The ride instantly smoothed, and I exhaled a breath. It took a concentrated effort, but I relaxed my body, starting with my hands and ending with my feet.

  Then something under my left foot clicked. I froze. Gears churned in the motorbike and I looked around for a long moment, my eyes wide. For several long seconds, nothing seemed to happen. I was on the verge of relaxing again, when the aircraft canopy above me snapped closed around me.

  For a second, I was suspended in the air, perfectly weightless and hurtling forward. Then the motorbike pitched forward and I was falling, the ocean of treetops hurtling toward me faster than I thought possible.

  3

  Viggo

  After retrieving my motorcycle from where the wardens had been holding it, I hurtled down the darkened streets of Patrus City at top speed. I relished the howl of the wind in my ears; it matched my mood and helped drown out any doubts I felt about the mission I’d been given.

  I didn’t have a lot of options when it came to recovering Violet. There was no telling where she’d gone or how she’d gotten there. Shortly after King Maxen left me, I’d realized that I only had one gambit: The tracking device that Lee had put somewhere on her. With luck, it was still active, and I’d be able to track her down using Lee’s computer.

  While I rode, my mind raged with questions. Why had Lee and Violet botched their own frame-up? A part of me—a very small part now— piped up that maybe Violet was behind that. Maybe she hadn’t been able to follow through on the task because of her feelings for me?

  I brushed the thought aside. It was unrealistic to think that, when she had lied to me from the very beginning. I had to stop wanting to believe that her affection for me had been genuine. It was a stupid, pathetic hope, built on loneliness and the desire to feel close to someone again.

  I needed to let it go.

  I twisted the throttle on the bike, urging it faster still. At this speed, it didn’t take long for me to reach Lee’s house. The ride was familiar to me now, anyway. Driving Violet around for all that time had made coming to this house second nature.

  The triangular white and glass building loomed out of the darkness, all of its floors dark. I parked the bike across the street and stood studying it for a few minutes, looking for signs of movement.

  I knew they were long gone, but it was surprising that the wardens hadn’t torn the place apart yet. Then again, reflecting on the damage to the lab, they might have bigger problems to deal with. Not to mention that Lee and Violet were long gone anyway.

  I approached the house. The garage wasn’t locked. Its door slid open easily, and I stepped inside, clicking on my flashlight. Two of Lee’s bikes were still parked in here. I recognized the one that Violet had stolen to visit me, the long scrapes on the side from where it had fallen. It brought back an unwelcome flash of memory—Violet’s lips against mine, her body trembling in my arms. I shoved it aside just as fast, ignoring the feelings that came with it.

  Moving toward the back of the garage, I opened the interior door easily. Climbing the steps quietly, I headed up to the first floor. The door leading to the house was locked, but I used my shoulder and broke it down.

  I heard a sound, something moving in the darkness, and froze. Reaching slowly, I pulled out my gun. My flashlight beam cut through the darkness slowly as I swung it around, and I heard the sound of something moving again, but I couldn’t find its origin.

  “Come out,” I ordered, but nothing happened. Taking a chance, I reached over and hit the light switch on the side of the door. Immediately, the lights flared to life.

  Something brown shot across the floor with a yelp, dashing under the table. Slowly, I squatted down. A dog sat under the table, its body quivering. I stowed my weapon.

  “Hey,” I murmured, reaching out a hand. The creature reluctantly came out, its head low and ears down. Slowly, it moved over to me, sniffing for danger. After a few seconds, it offered me a lick, its tail slowly wagging. I patted it on the head, trying to recall its name.

  “Samuel,” I finally said, remembering Violet had mentioned it once.

  The dog gave a small bark, its tail beating against the floor.

  With a sigh, I stood up and began to inspect the house. The downstairs was homey, and ultimately empty. There was no computer visible but I tore the place apart anyway, looking for anything, any clue as to where Violet would go or what her plans had been. It seemed unlikely that I would find anything like that just lying around, especially with her betraying Lee so violently, but I had to hope I’d stumble across something that would help me discover her plan.

  Nothing presented itself, so I headed upstairs, Samuel following me. I moved left, into one of the bedrooms. The room itself was almost Spartan, with a small bed and wardrobe. The bed had been made. I tore off the bedding and lifted the mattress.

  I instantly knew this was Violet’s bed. I caught a whiff of her scent clinging to the sheets. I looked around, memorizing the details of the room. There was nothing here to indicate a long-term stay. In fact, her wardrobe was sparse—only a few outfits in the closet, no shoes, and her costume to obscure her gender.

  That was it—there were no personal effects. I contemplated the implications of that. Violet had been a criminal befo
re they had sent her here for this mission. It was reasonable to believe that she had still been treated like a criminal while she had been here, with Lee acting as her jailor. If that were true, then it also stood to reason that was why she’d killed Lee, and Queen Rina. She’d wanted to escape them.

  I picked up one of her dresses from the closet. It was the one she had been wearing when I’d invited her to my fight. I ran my finger over the fabric, testing it. It was made of high-quality material. Why would Lee buy her a dress like this if she was a prisoner? It was expensive. It must have been to keep up the ruse: Lee would be expected to clothe his wife in finery.

  But still, there was no lock on the door, so there had been nothing to keep her in. There had also been that evening when she had risked her life to come see me, after I had rescued her from Porteque… It was a little odd that she had been given so much freedom, and such nice things, for being a hardened criminal and murderess.

  Hm. It didn’t quite add up.

  I placed the dress on the bed and moved out of the room, letting the questions dance around in my brain.

  I moved to the other bedroom, which wasn’t much larger. This was clearly Lee’s room, and after a quick glance around, I crossed to his desk, turning on his computer. While it booted up, I began to sort through his papers. Most of it was business; related to the lab, a lot of scientific jargon. He had circled the word Benuxupane a few times.

  Benuxupane. The new drug that the lab had been working on. It was a point of contention between the two regimes of Patrus and Matrus. Matrus had always supplied the pharmaceuticals for Patrus, in exchange for the produce that Patrus generated. It was one of the things that had allowed the two countries to operate peacefully in the past. But recently, King Maxen had been pushing to become more independent of Matrus, leading to heightened tension between the two countries.

  Why was Lee so interested in the manufacture of Benuxupane? His bombing had certainly set the work on it backward, but why was that so important? If Lee had been acting in service of Matrus, then the bombing of the laboratory could have been an attempt to keep Patrus dependent on Matrian drugs. But there was that weird silver egg thing that they had stolen…. What was it and what role did it play in everything?

  The computer booted up, beeping for my attention. It was password-protected, but I possessed a file that allowed me to log in as an administrator—given to me by one of my more technologically savvy wardens. I plugged in my handheld and loaded the program. It took only a few seconds, and then I began to search through the files.

  There was nothing on the hard drive regarding the bombing, but, luckily, this wasn’t my true goal. I scrolled through the programs and found what I had come here for; clicking on one of them, I held my breath.

  A map booted up, showing the streets of Patrus. Good, Lee hadn’t bothered to wipe it. I used the mouse to drag the image around… but found nothing. Then I dragged the map to the east, over Matrus. It took a few seconds for the graphics to catch up to the computer, and I began to scan the streets and buildings. Still nothing.

  Tapping my fingers impatiently on the desk, I dragged the map to the river and ran down the length of it. It would be difficult for Violet to hide there for long, but it might buy her some time to figure out her next move… Yet, again, there was nothing.

  Frustrated, I grabbed the image, pulling it down so I could see the mountain range. I must have pulled too hard, because the next thing I knew, I was staring at the blinding green canopy of The Green.

  And there, buried in its heart, was a little red dot.

  I exhaled the breath I hadn’t been aware that I was holding. It was Violet—it had to be. I leaned back, the chair squeaking under my weight. I felt a rush of relief, and frowned. I shouldn’t be relieved to find Violet alive, it made my job much more difficult.

  Then again… it would be nice to see her again, if only to shake her and demand answers from her. My stomach knotted at the thought, and I resisted putting my fist through a wall in anger. This girl had no right to make me feel so conflicted. I pushed the feelings aside and focused on the task at hand, knowing that logic, more than any confusing tangle of emotions, would help me now.

  I downloaded the program to my portable; my mind already whirling. Violet had taken refuge in The Green. It was, in one sense, smart—the toxic environment and dangerous creatures were a massive deterrent to most people. But it was also risky—if she didn’t have the tools to survive, or the knowledge, she could be dead in a matter of hours.

  The program finished downloading, and I unhooked it, slipping it into my pocket. I had an idea how to get up there.

  I left the bedroom, my mind already ticking off everything that I would need for The Green. But as I crossed the hallway and headed for the stairs, a sound at the front door halted me.

  Peering down, I saw a man entering, stepping past the door I had broken. Etched into the skin beneath his right eye was a dark triangular tattoo. He was a Porteque gang member. The group had kidnapped Violet in an attempt to re-educate her in the proper role of being a woman, and had been planning on murdering her. His eyes shot up to me before I could step back.

  We froze for an instant, staring at each other. I reached for my gun and he did the same.

  Then two gunshots exploded, shattering the silence of the house.

  4

  Violet

  The motorbike and I crashed through the treetops, hitting branch after branch. I had time to cover my face, but then something hit my head, sending shockwaves through my brain and knocking me out.

  I awoke a short while later—at least, I thought it was a short while—hanging upside down, my lungs on fire. I opened my eyes, the latent adrenaline lending itself to awareness, and looked down. I was suspended probably seventy feet from the ground. I grew dizzy looking down, and focused my attention on a tree branch as waves of nausea ran through me.

  It got a little better, but it didn’t help the breathlessness that was coming from the lack of air. I became aware of the wheezing sounds I was making, and realized I needed the mask in the seat of the motorbike. I risked a glimpse of the ground, scanning it for wreckage, but it wasn’t there.

  Then I heard something creak above me, and tucked my chin to my chest, looking upward. The motorbike was only a few feet above where I was snagged on one side, cradled by branches. My ankle was caught in the handlebars. I dropped my head and looked around. There were several branches to my left that I could try to grab hold of if I swung myself in that direction.

  As I moved, I cursed myself for being an idiot and getting distracted in the first place. Now my one means of transportation was wasted, and I was stuck in The Green. A tremor of fear went through me at the realization. I had some basic working knowledge of the place, but I wasn’t sure if I was equipped to handle it.

  A wave of darkness crossed my vision. I knew I was running out of time. Without thinking, I started to swing. I could hear the branch above me groan, and I shuddered, but kept rocking, my hands reaching for the branch.

  I touched it, just a brush of fingers, and then fell back, pushing my body into an arc. The branch above me groaned again, but I kept my focus as I swung back toward the branch, my hands outstretched. I dug my nails into the moss and bark, arresting my swing. Above me came a disconcerting crack.

  Slowly, I pulled myself closer, until I could reach the branch with my other hand. Using it to stabilize myself, I readjusted my grip. The muscles in my arms and legs were screaming in protest at the physical exertion and lack of oxygen. Shakily, I wrapped my arms around the branch, and then tried to lift my hips to extract my foot from where it was lodged. It didn’t budge. Gritting my teeth, I pulled my leg as hard as I could.

  The motorbike shifted a little with a small whine, and then an even louder crack sounded as the branch holding the motorbike broke. I held on to the branch I was clinging to with all my might. I felt the handlebars drag against my ankle and then slip away as it began to fall. There were more sounds
of tree branches breaking below it, and I felt the tree shudder from impact.

  After the noise had stopped, I dared to open my eyes. Branches had again stopped the motorbike, about thirty feet below me. It looked more secure, as it was being held by three branches, not two.

  I took another breath, and then gagged, the lack of oxygen causing the reflex. I was already dizzy, and now my ankle hurt from where the motorbike had clipped it.

  I started moving, as waves of vertigo ripped through me. Closing my eyes helped, but not much—not to mention climbing down blind was a really bad idea.

  Scrambling down the branch was not easy, but by some mercy, I managed it. Once I made it to the trunk, I gradually lowered my legs down to the branch below, keeping my weight off my damaged ankle.

  The moss was spongy beneath my hands and feet. It was also slick. I should have moved more slowly, but time was running out for me. Each breath I took made me more and more light-headed. I had to get to the motorbike, and I had to get there now.

  I climbed more swiftly downward. Luckily, the branches on this tree were thick, and there were many of them. I finally reached the branch that suspended the motorcycle, and gingerly put my weight onto it.

  Sweat was trickling down my forehead, and I felt the sharp pains in my joints and rib cage. The skin on my hands was shredded. I struggled to breathe; the sounds coming from my lungs were weaker and wheezier. I was at the end of my strength. Disregarding caution, I scrambled along the branch to the motorbike.

  It was on its side, but the tree held it tight. With shaking fingers, I stretched my body out, reaching for the trigger to the seat on the floorboard. I could feel my balance shifting radically, and I jerked back, catching myself before I fell. I took a deep breath of the toxic air, fixed my gaze on what I needed to hit, and then reached out and slapped the button.