The Disappearance of Ember Crow Read online

  Good.

  “Where’s Ember?” I demanded.

  He held up his hands. “Whoa, hold up, wolfgirl! I don’t know where she is. Got a message from her, though.”

  Was that a tattoo on his wrist? I grabbed his arm, pushing back the sleeve of his jacket to reveal the mark of a seagull in a circle. A Gull City Citizenship mark. “I thought you were an Illegal!”

  He pulled free of my grip. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of an Illegal getting past an Assessment.”

  Pepper rolled her eyes. “I wouldn’t have brought him if he didn’t have an ability. Show her what you can do, Jules!”

  The air surrounding Jules started to shimmer. I took a hasty step back, and Connor flung himself between Jules and me.

  “He’s not going to hurt her,” Pepper told him. “Watch.”

  Jules’s entire body seemed to ripple. Then he solidified. Only he wasn’t Jules, anymore.

  He was me. A perfect copy, right down to the clothes I was wearing.

  Connor made a choking noise. My jaw dropped, and I stepped out from behind him to examine – well, myself. It was positively spooky, staring at me that wasn’t me.

  Pepper’s voice spoke in my head. Awesome, isn’t it? He calls himself an Impersonator. She added, out loud this time, “He does the voice as well. Say something to her, Jules.”

  He smiled – my smile – and turned in a circle, saying in my voice, “How do I look?”

  This was just disturbing. “Stop that! Quit Impersonating me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes!”

  He shimmered again, blurring into a mess of colours, and then into himself. “Impressed, darling?”

  “No,” I replied. But I was, and I was pretty sure he knew it.

  If you don’t want him for your Tribe, Ash, can we have him for ours? Pepper asked.

  No! He knows something about Ember, and besides, he might be dangerous.

  The Saur Tribe is way more dangerous than he is.

  Wanders chimed in, If he causes any trouble, I will eat him. Or Tramples-my-Enemies will. Or Gnaws-the-Bones. Or–

  “Tell me, Jules,” Connor said, “exactly how is it that you know Ember?”

  He’d spoken to cover the quiet, I realised. I called out to Pepper and Wanders, No more mindspeaking! It was distracting, and I didn’t want Jules noticing anything weird, especially not when the saurs’ telepathic powers were a closely guarded secret.

  “Ember and I met about a month and a half ago,” Jules answered, with a grin. “And spent a memorable couple of weeks together.”

  I didn’t like that knowing smile, I didn’t like his ability, I didn’t like him. Then my brain caught up with my emotions. A month and a half. And Ember had been gone close on seven weeks now. If Jules was telling the truth, she’d run into him soon after she’d left the Firstwood. And she’d sent him back here.

  “What’s the message?” I asked.

  He reached into his jacket pocket to produce a folded piece of paper. I snatched it from him, but didn’t open it up; I wasn’t going to read Ember’s message in front of Jules.

  Only he wasn’t finished. He took out something else – a grey river stone, hung on a cord. He dangled it in the air, and drawled, “You’ll find the password for this rock in the note.”

  Connor drew in a sharp breath. I stopped breathing for a second. Then I gasped and grabbed for the river stone, my mind whirling. Jules knows what Em can do. How desperate must she have been to send this guy here, to trust him with knowledge about her ability? Most of the Tribe didn’t even know the full extent of her memory manipulation power. She didn’t like the way people reacted if they knew she could mess with their minds.

  Pepper tugged at my arm. “I don’t understand! What password? And what’s so special about some rock?”

  “This is Tribe business, Pepper,” I answered, keeping my gaze on Jules. “My Tribe, not yours.”

  She muttered something, but didn’t argue. Tribe business meant she had to stay out of it, just as I asked no questions if Jaz told me something was Saur Tribe business.

  Who was Jules to Em? The only possible reliable source of answers I had to that – and to all my other questions – was the river stone. I glanced around, spotting a nearby hill. I’d be out of sight once I was on the other side of it. Good enough.

  I glared at Jules. “I’m going to leave for a while. You stay right here. And,” I added, baring my teeth, “in case you haven’t understood how things work, the only reason you’re safe on the grasslands is because you’re with us. If you try to run, if you hurt Pepper, if you so much as twitch – that saur over there is going to eat you.”

  Never one to miss a cue, Wanders tipped back his head and let out a long, bloodcurdling wail.

  Jules paled. “I get it. I’m not going anywhere.”

  I nodded, and stomped off through the grass, Connor following behind me. The moment we’d circled behind the hill I stopped, kicked at the dirt, and hissed, “Em gave a memory stone to that guy? What was she thinking?”

  “I don’t know. Is there anything in the note?”

  I opened it up, staring down at Ember’s familiar handwriting.

  Ash,

  If you’re reading this, then Jules made it to the Firstwood with the memory stone. You might not like him at first. Try not to judge him until you’ve seen him through my eyes.

  There’re a lot of memories on the stone this time. I’ve put them together like a story. It’s the story of where I’ve been since I left the Firstwood, and why I went. By now you’ll know there’re things I haven’t told you. Whatever you think of me, please believe I’ve done all this to keep you safe.

  The password is the name of the boy made of wood.

  Love you

  Em

  I read it again, checking if I’d missed something. Then I held it out to Connor. He scanned the contents and reached the same conclusion I had. “It doesn’t tell us anything.”

  “No it doesn’t.” Which meant there was only one way to get some answers. I stalked over to sit at the base of the hill, cupping the stone in my hands. But I didn’t speak the word I needed to activate it, not yet. I needed some time to prepare. Experiencing a bunch of memories would be overwhelming, so I really had to calm down a little before I did it. I breathed, slow and deep, trying to let go of my emotions – my irritation at Jules, my anger at Em for hiding things and my fear for her safety, and my dread at what I would see in the stone. The “not nice things” that she hadn’t been able to tell me in person.

  When I was ready, I held the stone up to my mouth. The boy made of wood. Another one of Ember’s stories. An old world tale about a puppet who’d wanted to be a real child.

  “Pinocchio,” I whispered.

  Electricity rushed into my arms and then my head, and I was dragged into someone else’s memories, someone else’s life. I was not Ashala, not anymore.

  I was Ember.

  THE MEMORIES

  THE RALLY

  There are a thousand ways to disappear.

  Eight days ago, I’d disappeared from the Firstwood, and I’d done it without anyone knowing that it might be a very long time before I returned. Tonight, I had disappeared into the crowd. I was standing on the beach, surrounded by the gentle rush of the waves and the salt tang of the air, and like everyone else I carried a small lamp in my hand. Between us all, we had turned the shore into a constellation of lights, mirroring the stars above. Ash would love this. But I couldn’t bear to think about what I’d left behind, so instead I studied what was happening around me.

  We were gathered in front of a makeshift stage, which was lit up by spotlights. It was empty at present, except for a few people stationed around the edge. They were presumably there to make sure nobody overran the speakers in excitement, although from the relaxed way they were standing it didn’t seem as if they were really expecting trouble. Nor was there any reason why they should. After Belle Willis had been elected Prime the
enforcer presence at these rallies had ceased, and no one else was likely to cause a problem. People were respectful of each other, and of boundaries; a lesson learned from the excesses of the old world, where there had been no rule that someone had not been willing to break in pursuit of their own ends.

  I was pleased to see that a lot of the crowd were displaying red question marks; some wore it on badges, and others had it painted onto their faces. The Question was a tool of the reform movement, and it was simply this: are people with abilities part of the Balance? It was designed to make people query the justification for the Citizenship Accords, and it was working. Change was inevitable. It was flowing in like the tide. I only wished that meant no one would try to stop it.

  There was a stirring around me. A dark-haired man was striding to the centre of the stage. He wasn’t the false Serpent. I’d never seen him before, but I recognised the barely contained energy of his quick movements from the way Ash had once described him. This had to be Jeremy Duoro, who, along with Belle Willis, had helped to expose the many crimes of Chief Administrator Neville Rose and Doctor Miriam Grey. Willis and Duoro had been members of the Inspectorate back then, a committee set up to monitor detention centres. Now she was the Prime, the head of the Gull City government, and he was one of her advisors, in addition to being a leader of the reform movement.

  The crowd quietened as he began to speak. “There are people who would tell us,” he called out, “that those born with abilities are not part of the Balance. They are wrong. My name is Jeremy Duoro, and I say that the answer to the Question is yes!”

  People raised their lamps, waving them back and forth in what was evidently a sign of approval. I waved mine as well, blending in with the rest. “For too long,” Duoro continued, “we have been told that treating Illegals as we do preserves the harmony of this world. But let me tell you about true disharmony. Let me tell you what I witnessed in Detention Centre 3.”

  He began to tell the story of the events that had taken place at the centre six months ago, his voice shaking as he spoke of how sixteen detainees had been so terrified of Rose that they’d fled onto the grasslands and been horribly devoured. He sounded haunted by those deaths. Poor man. But we could never allow anyone to know that those children were alive and well and living with the lizards who’d supposedly eaten them. I let his words wash over me as he described the way he and Willis had seized control of the centre from Neville Rose and provided the world with proof of Rose’s crimes. They hadn’t done it alone, although neither Willis or Duoro were fully aware of the many ways in which Ash and Connor had helped them that night.

  Duoro was still talking when someone else climbed onto the corner of the stage. Tall. Red haired. Forty or so, and dressed in Gull-City-blue. I stared, blinked, and stared again. A rumour had drawn me to this place, a description of the Serpent that seemed too familiar to be a mere resemblance or coincidence. I hadn’t been sure it was him. Until now.

  Jeremy Duoro finished speaking to enthusiastic applause. He hurried over to the newcomer and they shook hands. Then Duoro moved to the side, and the red-haired man walked to the front. He stood, waiting for absolute silence. When he had it, he roared, “I am the Serpent, and together we will change the world!”

  The crowd surged, pressing me forwards as he launched into a speech. I was wedged in, unable to get any closer to the stage than I was already. But I didn’t need to be. Everything about him was familiar. The deep, gravelly tone of his voice; the way he gestured with his hands to emphasise a point.

  I’d thought him gone forever. I’d been wrong.

  I had to free myself from all these people. I shut off my light and began to push and shove my way out. By the time I escaped from the crowd the “Serpent” had concluded his talk. People were cheering and waving their lamps, and I took advantage of the distraction to scurry into the night, circling around until I neared the stage. Then I darted into the sand dunes, crouched down, and waited.

  Everyone slowly grew quiet and still again as someone else came on, a mother whose child was in detention. The Serpent was still onstage but he was lingering at the back, standing in the darkness where the spotlights didn’t reach. All the speakers were supposed to stay and take questions from the audience, but I knew he wouldn’t take the chance of remaining here for that long. He’ll want to slip away unseen. Things might be changing, but he was playing the part of a self-confessed Illegal, which meant he was breaking the Citizenship Accords by being out of detention.

  When he leaped down onto the beach, I followed at a cautious distance, keeping watch to make sure that no one had noticed either of us. I trailed patiently after him as he moved off the shore and into the City. I didn’t call out; I wanted to be sure we were alone before I approached him. The two of us wandered past gleaming composite buildings, into the older part of Gull City where the houses were composed of cobbled-together materials leftover from the old world. These were the first structures, built before the recyclers functioned. Some of the other cities had torn down houses like these; Gull City had kept them, as a testament to tenacity and survival.

  It seemed only right that we meet again in such a landscape.

  He paused suddenly, standing in the middle of a laneway. He’d sensed that someone was behind him, or perhaps he’d known all along, and had been waiting for me to show myself. I stepped out from the shadow of a building.

  “Dad?” I whispered. “It’s Ember.”

  My father tilted his head towards the sound of my voice.

  And then he spun around and shot me.

  THE TRAIN

  I was adrift, neither entirely conscious nor entirely unconscious. I fought to piece together fragments of memory and sensation, trying to assemble a coherent picture of what had happened to me. There had been – fire? No, electricity. Energy weapon. Except that weapon hadn’t been a streaker. Nor had it been a stunner, like the one I’d created for Ash. It was something new, something that had burned the world with orange light.

  I struggled back to awareness. My eyes would not open yet, but I was conscious of a steady sense of motion. I was in a vehicle of some kind. How long had I been unconscious? Hours? Days? I had no way to tell. It felt as if it had been a long time, but that was meaningless, especially in my present state, with my brain fogged and my thoughts muffled. This isn’t only the effect of the weapon. I recognised this feeling.

  I’d been injected with liquid rhondarite.

  An unfamiliar voice spoke. “You awake yet, Red?”

  Someone was here! Panic surged, lending me enough strength to push my eyes open. My vision was a little blurry, but I could see enough to tell that I was staring up at a white ceiling. With a supreme effort, I turned my head in the direction of the voice. There was a stranger, sitting opposite where I lay. All I could make out about him were vague impressions of colour: brown hair, black shirt, blue pants. “Who arrrrr …”

  “Name’s Jules. And you’re Ember. Runaway, rebel, and Tribe member. You’ve had quite the criminal career, for someone who’s only, what, sixteen?”

  “Seventeen,” I whispered. To my intense relief, my vision was returning to normal. I blinked, clearing away the last of the blurriness, and gazed at the stranger, who was sitting on a narrow bed attached to the wall. So I’m in some sort of white room … with two beds … that’s moving … I’m in a twin sleeper compartment, on the Rail.

  I’d worked out where I was. But that was no great victory, given that the Rail itself could be anywhere. I studied my captor, paying attention to the small details that could reveal so much about a person. My thoughts were still sluggish, but I knew I had to find a way to connect with him. Win his sympathy. Lure him into carelessness.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked. My voice sounded weak. I wished it was an act. “You’re an Illegal like me.”

  He showed me the Gull City Citizenship mark on his wrist. “Now, why would you think that?”

  Idiot, Ember. I shouldn’t have let on that I’d dedu
ced what he was. That was information that could have been hoarded away and used later, when it would gain me the most advantage. My mind, usually my greatest weapon, was misfiring under the influence of the rhondarite.

  He was waiting for a response. Do I tell him how I knew? There seemed no harm in it. I hoped there was no harm; I was finding it difficult to calculate consequences at present. “My father wouldn’t shoot me. And there’s a burn on your hand. Kind of thing you might get from using an experimental weapon.” It was taking a surprising amount of energy for me to form words, but I managed to put together five more. “You’re some kind of shifter.”

  “I prefer the term Impersonator.” He looked down at his hand. “You don’t miss much, Red.”

  No, I didn’t. At least, not usually. At the moment there were no thoughts at all in my head, just a grey, exhausted blurriness. The effort of holding a simple conversation and putting a few clues together had been too much for me. My eyes drifted shut.

  Jules snapped his fingers in front of my face. “Stay with me, darling. Come on, tell me something. What’s your favourite colour?”

  “Green,” I answered, blinking up at him.

  “Favourite Hoffman quote?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Everyone’s got a favourite Hoffman quote.”

  I sighed. “All revolutions begin with a question.”

  He chuckled. “Guess a rebel like you would pick that one.”

  His voice was growing fainter, as if it was coming from a long way away. He shook my shoulder. “Red. Red! What’s your dad’s name?”

  That got my attention. “Why do you want to know?”

  He shrugged. “I Impersonate a lot of people. Sometimes I like to know their names.”

  “Timothy,” I mumbled, choosing a name at random. “Timothy Collins.”