Black City by Elizabeth Richards Read Free Book Online

silently from the wall, their heads drooped against their chests, their bodies naked, their hands bound. They look like grotesque scarecrows, which is what they are: a warning to any Darkling or human who tries to get over either side of the wall. One of the scarecrows is a human; the words race traitor are carved into his flesh. The other two are Darklings, their skin yellowed and gangrenous, signs they had the Wrath just like Mom. I scrunch my nose as we pass, blocking out the worst of the smell.
    “How’s your mom?” Beetle asks quietly.
    He’s the only person I’ve told about her being back with us.
    “I don’t think she’s got long left.” My voice cracks as I speak.
    He suddenly stops.
    “What?” I say.
    He points to a poster on the wall. There’s a photo of a teenage boy on it, wearing horn-rimmed glasses. Above his photo are the words WANTED: TRAITOR .
    “That’s Tom,” he whispers. “He went AWOL from Humans for Unity a few weeks ago. We think he left the city.”
    “It’s probably best if he has.” I wonder what he did to get on the Sentry government’s Most Wanted list.
    We walk the rest of the way to school in silence, both knowing Tom’s probably already dead.
    We slow down as we approach Black City’s only surviving secondary school. Something isn’t right. There are camera crews and Sentry guards everywhere—it’s like a circus. But that isn’t what’s caught my attention. In the far corner of the plaza, a group of workmen are erecting three imposing wooden crosses.
    “What are those for?” Beetle asks quietly.
    I shrug, but it can’t be good.
    Near us, a red-haired reporter dressed in a corset-blouse and skintight patchwork leather pants argues with one of the Sentry guards, waving her press pass in his face. I recognize her as Juno Jones from Black City News.
    “I’m allowed to be here. Since I last checked, I still have the right to free speech!”
    The guard shoves her, and I catch her before she falls. Her eyes widen when she sees me, but she quickly composes herself.
    “Thanks,” she says. “Nice to know chivalry isn’t completely dead in this city.”
    “What’s going on?” I ask.
    “The Emissary’s making a big announcement.”
    “Move it along,” the guard snaps.
    Juno rushes off in a different direction before she can tell me any more about it, no doubt looking for a more sympathetic guard she can charm.
    When Beetle’s distracted, I show my ID bracelet to the Sentry guard, then we join the rest of the school in the town square, standing at attention in a sea of black and red uniforms. To the east and west of us are the skeletal remains of burned-out buildings. I stand in their jagged shadows, staying out of the direct sunlight, although my skin still prickles like red ants are crawling all over it. Flakes of ash peel off the buildings’ scorched walls and rain down on us like black snow.
    Just one soot-encrusted building remains to the north of the square, the old town hall that’s been converted into the Black City Secondary School. It was only opened last year, after the war ended. Shame it didn’t burn down too. Three Gothic spires twist out of the school’s gray slate roof, the tallest of which contains a tarnished copper clock that chimes the hour with a low, melancholy sound.
    I risk a look behind me at the Boundary Wall running along the south side of the plaza, trying to imagine what the town square would look like if it weren’t there. I can’t picture it. The wall’s been here too long; I barely remember a time without it.
    In the center of the wall are the massive iron-armored gates, the only safe passage in and out of the Legion ghetto. Guarding the gates are dozens of Sentry guards, while on the wall itself stand rows of Legion guards. No one gets in or out without their permission, not that many people try. You need top-level clearance to move freely between the two sides of the wall, and only a handful of government workers and the