The Gender Game 2 Read online

  I overrode it. Her life was more important.

  Pulling open her shirt, I inspected her skin for bite marks. Finding none, I pulled her shirt back on over her shoulders, and then moved to her pants.

  All of a sudden, Violet started to seize in my arms, her body jerking like a broken marionette doll. I wrapped my arms and legs firmly around her. The fit lasted for several seconds, and when it was over, she had white goo pouring from her mouth.

  I quickly shucked off her pants, and immediately saw the makeshift bandage encircling her thigh. I removed it quickly. Her upper thigh was swollen, black, and writhing. I recognized that she had been bitten by one of the great black centipedes. I laid her down on the ground on her side and placed a knee on her hip, so she couldn’t jerk away.

  Removing my knife from my belt, I quickly sliced the wound open, using the blackened puncture marks as a guide. Violet twitched, but remained unconscious.

  Yellow pus and dark blood spilled from the wound. I grabbed my canteen, and rinsed it out, until I could see the orange placenta-like encasement that held the infant centipedes.

  All of the centipedes in The Green were venomous, but the greater black centipede’s venom was more insidious if the symptoms weren’t recognized. The venom was at work, dissolving Violet’s muscle tissue and pumping poison into her veins. Meanwhile, the nutrients created by the venom of the sac seeped back through, feeding the growing life inside.

  I used my knife and punctured the sac. Translucent centipedes about the size of my thumb slid out of the case, dripping down her thigh and onto the ground. I used the bandage to wipe them off, throwing them as far away as possible. Gently, I grabbed the edges of the egg sack, and pulled it out, taking care not to rip it.

  Once it was out, I opened my bag, pulling out my medical kit. I quickly mixed an antiseptic powder packet with some water and spread it over her wound. It dried and hardened quickly, fixing her tissue in place.

  As it dried, I found the necessary two pills that would help her system process the venom and extricate it from her body. I forced them into her mouth, poured water down her throat, and stroked her neck until she swallowed them.

  I continued to pour water down her throat, working liquid into her, and I kept her in my arms. I told myself it was so I could monitor her better. If she vomited while she was unconscious, she could choke, so I needed to be there to make sure she didn’t.

  But deep down, I knew I had her there because I needed to feel her against me. I kept checking her pulse to make sure she was still alive. I fought the urge to talk to her, because I knew the words that would spill out of my mouth would be a mixture of platitudes, begging her not to die, coupled with vicious accusations.

  Several hours passed before I felt comfortable letting her go. Her pulse was beating strong and regularly, and color was returning to her cheeks. I forced some more water and medicine into her mouth, replaced her mask, and then laid her down, wrapping her in my polymer blanket. I put some distance between us and sat down, staring at her. She twisted fitfully in her sleep, wresting her hand out of the blanket as if to fend off a blow.

  My jaw clenched. How could a creature so dangerous seem so helpless at the same time? Violet was a walking contradiction. It was like there were two Violets—the Violet that was a threat to everyone around her, and the Violet that was a threat to herself.

  I ran a hand across my face. I had been nursing Violet for hours, and the run had taken a lot out of me. I was exhausted. Samuel yipped, and crawled over me, whining softly, his tail thumping on the ground, reminding me that it was dinner time.

  I opened up a tin, gave him half, and then ate the other half. In the fading light of the sun, I saw Violet’s bag lying toppled over from where I had kicked it in my haste to get to her. Some of the items were out—a few aerosol cans and some food items were scattered across the ground.

  Moving over to it, I began to rifle through it and immediately recognized the silver case as the egg. I picked it up, examining its surface. I found a keyhole, and I looked at Violet, and the key she had tied around her neck. It was tempting to open, but then again—I had no idea what was inside, and I didn’t relish the idea of accidentally setting off some sort of bomb.

  I set it aside, and began to rummage around. Everything else was for survival, although her bag was missing several important things, like medicine that could save her life. I heard something rattle as I went to set the bag aside. Frowning, I reached into the bottom and felt the cool press of glass under my fingers. I pulled it out, and examined it. It was a vial with several white pills. The vial wasn’t labeled. I contemplated it for a few seconds, and then repacked the bag, placing three empty aerosol containers to one side.

  Then, I removed Violet’s blanket and went through her pockets. I found her gun, an extra clip, and a few slips of paper, which I removed. I covered her back up, and then clicked on my flashlight. There were two pictures—one of Queen Rina and a blond-haired man, both sitting with their throats slit, and the words “FOR THE BOYS OF MATRUS” carved into the desk that sat between them. In the other, I recognized King Maxen’s car, and the words “FOR THE MEN YOU WILL DECEIVE” scratched into the tinted windshield.

  I unfolded the paper. It was a letter from Lee Bertrand, addressed to someone called Desmond. Sitting back, I began to read.

  12

  Violet

  I was standing on a precipice, staring down into the velvet darkness. It felt like a dream, but maybe that was what death felt like—a dream that no one could ever wake from.

  I kept waiting for something to happen, but I just stood there, staring down, waiting. I kept hearing things in the darkness, but I couldn’t make them out. I knew I should be afraid—in fact a part of me was. But another part of me was curious.

  Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. Everything shifted under my feet as I did, and suddenly I was standing in the hall of my old house. My mother was standing in front of me, her face a mask of disapproval. “Again, Violet?” she asked, her eyes sad.

  I looked down at the back of my hands. They were bloody and torn. I looked back up at my mom who was now walking away, her back to me. She was leaving me.

  “I’m sorry, Mommy,” I cried, trying to run after her. It was like my legs were stuck in honey. The faster I ran, the slower I went. “Mommy,” I yelled, reaching for her.

  She didn’t look back as she entered a door, closing it in my face. “I’m sorry,” I said against the door, tears running down my cheeks. “Please come back. Please… come back.”

  I stood there, my face and hands on the door, crying, begging her to return.

  “Violet?” came a small tremulous voice next to me. I turned, and there was Tim, my little brother, his eyes wide. He held out his hand to me, and I reached for it. I held it for a second, his skin warm and vibrant under my touch.

  Then he was slipping, falling into the toxic waters of the river. I screamed, reaching for him, the river bank lifting me away from him. He stared up at me, his eyes black and dark, before he disappeared into the swirling depths. I tried to jump in after him, when strong hands grabbed me, carrying me away.

  I clawed at the earth, my nails digging furrows into the dark soil. “No!” I screamed, kicking my legs. I broke free, and started to run toward the edge. I dove off the side, intent on rescuing my brother, when the landscape shifted beneath me.

  I watched as the canopy of The Green rushed in. I raised my hands, still screaming, my body tensing for the impending impact.

  “What are you doing?” said a gruff voice.

  I was standing in the middle of a clearing, and in front of me stood… Viggo. He looked handsome, his face cleanly shaved, his eyes earthy green, and his hair falling to the sides of his face. I wanted to touch him.

  I took a step forward, and stopped, looking down. I was wearing the dress I wore to Lee’s and my wedding. I met Viggo’s eyes and he shook his head.

  “You betrayed me,” he said, his voice raw.

&nbs
p; “No, I –”

  “You’re toxic, Violet. You hurt everyone you love.”

  “No!”

  “I never want to see you again.”

  “Please–”

  I watched as vines dropped from the trees, covering Viggo. He stared at me, his eyes filled with rage and pain and betrayal. I tried to rush to him, but the vines had wrapped around my legs, holding me in place. I looked down, and watched in horror as they morphed, turning black, scales forming and legs erupting from their surface.

  The centipedes writhed against my legs, heaving as more and more piled in around me. “Viggo,” I cried.

  He continued to stare at me, as the vines started to cut into his skin, cutting long lines that welled with blood and poured down his face. “You are toxic,” he said.

  I watched as the vines constricted, forming scales of their own, until he was wrapped in the coils of a silver python. I heard the snap of bones and screamed, trying to push through the centipedes to get to him. His eyes bulged in their sockets. One of the python heads hissed, opening its mouth to swallow him whole. I closed my eyes, hot tears dripping down my cheeks.

  I collapsed on the ground, the centipedes gone. “Don’t go,” I cried.

  “You did this, Violet,” said a voice behind me. I kept my eyes closed as I felt the clammy touch of a hand on my back. “You did this to me.”

  I forced myself to look up into Lee’s eyes. His face was misshapen, his bones broken. He moved around me in jerking steps. “You killed me,” he hissed.

  “You killed me,” echoed Viggo’s voice.

  “You killed me,” came my mother’s voice.

  “You killed me,” said my brother.

  I screamed, clamping my hands over my ears as they chanted all around me. Vertigo assailed me as I felt the whole world shift. I could hear more voices chanting with them. Queen Rina, Alastair Jenks, the two girls I’d killed in Matrus, and the man from the Porteque gang who I had stabbed—all of them screaming at me.

  I tried to explain, tried to deny, tried to justify, but their voices only grew louder. They all surrounded me, screaming “You, you, you,” over and over again as they died, but didn’t die.

  I screamed until my voice was hoarse, until the tears stopped pouring from my eyes, until they all fell down. Sudden silence filled the air, until Lee began to move. He sat up, his broken bones creaking and snapping under the weight of his body. He picked up the silver egg between us, and advanced on me.

  I backed away, but somehow he was faster than me. He slammed the egg into my chest, forcing it in through my skin. I screamed again as agony spread through me. Light began to shine from the hole as he forced it inside of me. “Together forever,” he leered.

  Strong hands grabbed me suddenly, and I jerked against them.

  “Violet!” came a soft urgent voice. The tightness in my chest intensified, and I struggled harder. I felt my fist connect with something, heard someone cursing, and I jerked awake.

  I curled around myself, my stomach queasy and my hands shaking. I couldn’t shake the dream; the images I saw. I was panting, my heart sick with guilt even over the deaths I wasn’t the cause of, when the hands returned, touching me gently.

  I jerked away, suddenly surprised, and looked up. It was… Viggo. Leaning over me, his rugged, stubbled face a mixture of concern and anger.

  I cried out, covering my eyes, not willing to see him torn apart again. He grabbed my hands, pulling them away, and shaking me.

  “Violet,” he hissed, his eyes intense.

  I shook my head, denying his existence. “I can’t watch it again, I can’t. Please don’t make me!”

  Viggo stared at me, teeth clenched hard, a muscle in his jaw pulsating. Finally, he yanked me into his arms and lap, holding me close. I curled up into a ball and clenched my eyes tight. I felt him stroking my hair. I was aware of him speaking to me, but the nightmare still clung to me too tightly. I kept waiting for him to die. For me to kill him.

  Eventually, however, I accepted that he was real. The press of his strong hands on my back, rubbing my tense muscles, weren’t another figment of my imagination. He was here. It was his strong heartbeat next to my cheek, his rough jaw pressing against the top of my head, and his calm and even breathing filling my ears.

  Confusion flooded through me.

  “Viggo,” I whispered, suddenly aware of how parched I was.

  “Yes?” he said, his chest rumbling.

  “How are you here?” I breathed, lifting my hand to his shoulder.

  He shrugged me off, and sat me on the ground. I was too weak to hold myself up, so he propped me up against the tree root. I looked around, blinking sluggishly. “This is a dream,” I said, aware of my voice slurring.

  “No, Violet, it isn’t,” Viggo replied curtly as he picked up a canteen.

  I tilted my head up to him, so I could look at him as he loomed over me. He pulled my mask off, and I gasped, weakly trying to reach for it.

  Viggo is trying to kill me, I thought. I deserve it, a tiny voice added.

  He deftly avoided my hands and lifted the canteen to my lips. I opened my mouth to protest, and he tilted the canteen, pouring cool water down my throat. I didn’t understand, so I coughed, water going down the wrong way.

  He swore, kneeling down next to me, jerking me forward and whacking me on the back. I hacked until the feeling passed. He replaced the mask for a few seconds so I could suck in some air.

  “You’re trying to kill me,” I croaked.

  He gave a tsk of annoyance. “If I wanted you dead, I would have let you die from your bite.”

  Groggily, I looked over at my leg. “It was venomous,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “Thirsty,” I said, feeling the rush of blackness returning.

  He sighed, and slipped my mask off again, placing the canteen against my mouth. I was ready this time, and I drank the water as it poured in, my throat remembering what my mind couldn’t seem to. After a while, he took the canteen away and replaced the mask.

  My stomach full of water, I felt my eyelids drift close. I forced them open, suddenly panicked. “Don’t let me sleep,” I whispered to Viggo, grabbing his arm.

  He gently removed it, and shook his head. “You need to sleep, Violet. It’s the best medicine.”

  “But they’re waiting for me! You’re waiting for me. I killed you. I killed others. Please…”

  Viggo blinked, and sat down next to me. “Who did you kill, Violet?”

  “Everyone,” I explained. “I mean, I didn’t kill all of them, but I did four of them. I’m responsible for four deaths! I-I can’t face them. They won’t let me explain. I’m sorry,” I choked, “I’m so, so sorry.”

  I felt Viggo’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. “Okay,” he said tightly, after a pause. “I will hold you, and if you start to have nightmares, I promise to wake you. All right?”

  I couldn’t even respond; the darkness was taking me again. I struggled against it, fighting with all my might. Then I felt his arm come around me, holding me. It was like a weight that kept me centered, a shield that kept me safe from the people who haunted me. I exhaled in relief, and surrendered myself to sleep, confident that the nightmares wouldn’t find me as long as Viggo was there.

  13

  Viggo

  I sat on one of the roots, the tree trunk to my back and the pistol on my lap, waiting for Violet to wake up. She was curled up around Samuel, who hadn’t left her side since we found her. It had been twenty-four hours since then, and another twelve since her nightmare.

  I had only been able to sleep a few hours myself; it was too dangerous for both of us to be unconscious.

  It gave me time to think. There was something more going on here, but I wasn’t quite sure what it was. I reached into my pocket, and pulled out Lee’s letter. From what it stated there, it was clear that Violet had no idea what his true intentions were. In fact, it appeared that Lee had played her.

  However, this did
n’t change the fact that she had to have been aware of the bombs in the laboratory. That she had played a part in setting me up. Though at some point, Lee had started to have difficulty with controlling her. That brought a small smirk to my mouth: The idea anyone could control Violet was laughable. She was far too headstrong.

  Lee had mentioned giving her pills—did he do it to make her more compliant? If so, when did he start giving them to her? What kind of pills were they? Were they the same ones I had found in her bag? If so, would giving them to her make her more inclined to answer my questions when she woke up?

  So many questions, and the source of any answers lay unconscious a few feet away from me. I ran a hand through my hair and sighed again.

  Lee was behind the attacks. And now he was dead. Did Violet kill him? If so, was it in self-defense, or born of a desire to take the egg for herself?

  I looked at the egg. I still hadn’t tried to open it—I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was inside. I knew that I had been fed a lie by King Maxen now, who had said the egg was Patrian property, but it was clear from the letter that it had been stolen by Patrus from Matrus. And, given how desperately both countries wanted it, I actually found myself agreeing with Lee—maybe it was better that neither found it.

  I had no illusions about the depths of depravity both countries would drop to in the name of the “greater good.” Whatever was in that case was dangerous—dangerous enough to kill for and spelled nothing but trouble for both nations. A part of me was seriously tempted to hike over to the river and toss it in so that no one could have it.

  Violet stirred and I set aside my thoughts, watching her. She was looking much better, albeit haggard and dirty. She gave a deep sigh and then continued to sleep, and I frowned, returning to my thoughts.