Thanks for all the feedback on the last chapter.
My dear Guest 'Can't sue me', your logic is faultless, us poor authors are at the complete mercy of your goodwill when we toil long hours in the tenuous hope of obtaining feedback. I hope you relish that as much as your review inferred.
Caught in the twilight between sleep and wake, Mercury shifted in the all too comfortable bed, light filtering through her closed eyelids.
Her arm stung.
Stinging was nothing to be alarmed of. It was odd if anything: feeling no pain. No strained muscles or tired feet nor even cracked lips or a burning throat. It was almost as if nothing had happened.
The smell was wrong.
She knew that smell. Capitol sheets. She'd noticed it on the first night after training.
The memories were too vivid for a mere night terror.
Mercury's eyes flew open. Not so much by conscious thought, no. Her mind was telling her to keep resting, to pretend she was asleep, to enjoy what comfort she could. It was her instinct that shook her awake, like an electric eel latching itself to her body. An instinct born of eight days of stiffening at the slightest hint of danger.
Anything Capitol was danger. That lesson had been ingrained from birth.
She was alone except for the avox near the door. The young man was reaching for the handle.
"Don't get them yet," Mercury whispered, her eyes darting to the sides, searching every corner and shadow for threats.
She stood up, her silk nightdress leaving her arms bare.
Her eyes focused on the huge black stain on her bitten arm. The jagged scars left by the mutt seemed now part of a black wolf tattoo that covered her whole forearm. A tattoo she hadn't had when she had left Three. Stylistically a gorgeous fierce wolf. A tattoo nonetheless.
Mercury sighed softly. They couldn't have just removed the scars, no? Did they think she would have missed them if they'd left her arm unblemished?
She found she didn't really care. They had carved up her soul; what was Capitol ink on her skin?
The young woman staring back at her in the mirror was an advertisement for the efficiency of Capitol medicine. It was insulting. Rosy cheeked and rested-looking, a disbelieving Mercury checked her eyes for make-up. There was none. She felt empty and yet the mirror painted her as radiant.
Her hand went up to her hair. It had been cut and shaped into an asymmetrical mid-length cut that was all but classic. It wasn't ugly. It was elaborate. It was Capitol. And Drake's blood would never completely wash off, no matter how expensive the new luster to her raven hair had come. Were those dark blue highlights?
She didn't look like herself.
And why not? Mercury didn't feel like herself. Maybe it was better like this. Hair she could change back anyway.
Empty. Mercury had expected anger, or tears at least. She wondered if it was a defense mechanism. She had no intention to test the theory by pondering the events of the last days. She was confident there would be dozens of people all too happy to do it for her.
She nodded to the avox.
Aster entered within seconds, taking long stiff strides, his dark eyes never leaving her face. Dark bags marred his aquiline traits; his skin face was drawn as a sick man's.
Mercury's breath caught as relief finally hit her like a tidal wave, forcing her seated.
Aster. She'd made it, and now it was just her and Aster. Like before. No, not like before. But it was him, and she was alive.
"I'm sane, I think." Mercury said, an incredulous ghost of a smile gracing her lips.
Aster gently took her tattooed wrist in his hand, his eyes glazing over it. Mercury wished he could meet her eyes.
"I'm very glad to hear that," he said after pause.
"Better than sharp golden teeth," Mercury said, hating the tension in the air. Talk to me, Aster!
She gasped when he unexpectedly pulled her into a hug. "Well done," he whispered in her ear, his silken voice thick with understanding.
Mercury felt tears prickle in her eyes as she clung onto him. She almost felt safe there, she could almost believe it was over.
It wasn't over. Not nearly. But at least he could stand to touch her.
"Get off, or I'll get your shirt soaked. What high-state function am I to attend now?" Mercury said in clipped tones, willing her emotions away. It was too much.
Aster squeezed her arm briefly, his expression as dark as she had ever seen it.
"There is one single chariot in the arena, for your triumph. The animals of the last five tributes were kept alive and there is to be an auction tomorrow. Would you be tempted by a couple of bears?"
"Nah, but those beavers are pure awesome though." She muttered, her eyes wide and unseeing.
It had been so easy to fence words with Mesmer mere hours after she had discarded Georgie like an useless plush toy. So easy to play the same game with Aster now, discussing the beavers who been fortunate enough to outlive Yolo.
Yolo. Strangled by those animated vines, so close to the end. Why had the boy given up? He had killed for the first time mere minutes before and he had to hate that she would die, even if they'd barely interacted, but it couldn't be that. His own family didn't deserve to mourn him. Surely he'd promised to return. Yolo had been a free spirit, maybe it had been the instinct of the bird about to be caged forever. Maybe he'd preferred to be remembered as he was.
She would never know.
Mercury shook herself. She'd better find something to do with her life other than mope, otherwise she'd just as well should have let Yolo win.
"Where is Dante?" she asked, her voice devoid of emotion. Moments alone with Aster, even in such a colored luxurious bedroom, was a too painful reminder of happier days.
"Being tactful. Get in, Old Man." Aster said, without raising his voice.
Dante's too-white smile almost hurt her eyes. Mercury's lips twitched as he pulled her in a bear hug.
"It is better when your tribute does come back," the white-haired escort said warmly.
Mercury didn't dignify the statement with a comment. She was very glad to see Dante: he was rather tolerable for a Capitolite, but it didn't make his words any less asinine.
"The contents of your pockets are in a bag in the room you'll be staying in. I also suggest you watch the interview Grace Schrödinger gave for you before Crassus comes in to dress you up. You slept for thirty-seven hours and will be in public at two, in four hours." Aster said dispassionately, as if reading a grocery list. He wasn't looking at her anymore.
Mercury nodded, feeling suddenly weary. It had slipped her mind how incompetent Aster was with dealing with other people's emotional fragility. Or dealing with other people, period. He'd learned to tolerate and later to appreciate her because she simply wouldn't go away. Aster had to be feeling terribly inadequate and Mercury just wasn't well enough to deal with it.
And why ever Grace? Mercury adored her teacher, but she couldn't fathom why the woman would submit to giving the Capitol an interview about her. Could Finder have organized it?
"I'll watch the interview," Mercury muttered. "Thanks for taking care of everything."
"You did the messiest part of the job." Aster said with a sardonic twist to his lips.
The dark-haired man paled, his own words registering. He was out of the room before she could say anything.
A weak laugh escaped Mercury's lips. At least some things had remained the same. She'd learned not to mind his cutting remarks. He was right, after all.
"I guess I did," she whispered to an appalled Dante.
An empty beaten earth track.
A wild colorful crowd she could barely hear despite the deafening noise.
Three mutt spiders in one cage-like metal sphere pulling the fake-aluminum chariot.
Just three.
Algor's three had been knifed to death to mirror of his own swift demise at Aurora's hands. His sacrifice to save a girl whose name he probably didn't know. A girl who died days later and whose name would soon be forgotten.
Mercury's heart was hammering painfully.
I'm not going anywhere bad. Just don't forget! Yolo's last words were ringing in her ears.
Yolo, Algor, Rachel, Aurora, Corsair, Carnelia, Armagnac, Paloma, Orvis, Mouse, Victor, Hawk, Drake, Gamina, Georgie, Tesu, Harrow and Rosemary, Messenger, Mesmer, Apple, Bryony and the well-spoken Dash.
She was the only one who would remember them all. The curse of memory. The duty of remembrance.
The coliseum was empty.
Flashes of another chariot ride, another life ago, began to assault her. Her chest was too constricted to let her breathe.
Stepping on the chariot had become the most terrifying thing she had ever contemplated doing.
"Come on, you're a masterpiece, I had never designed for a victor before but they'll faint from esthetical overload, trust me." Crassus said, waving his arms excessively as he spoke.
Her stylist's words jolted her back to reality. This was the Capitol. The twitchy man thought her worst fear was looking bad. The audience was Capitol: naïve, oblivious, harmless.
She lifted her dress and stepped onto the Chariot. Gone was the sexy android disguise. Now she was a victor; she was to be glamorous and ravishing. Apparently a golden taffeta ball-gown encrusted with everything the Crassus could heap on it was the way to go. The over-dramatic bustled skirt was so big Mercury was wondering whether the electricity sizzling around the spiders' cage would light it on fire.
It might've been entertaining to see. She was sure the crowd would have loved it. The though left a bitter taste of ashes in her throat. They had already forgotten them, every one of them except Mercury, as if they'd never mattered.
Enthusiastic screams assaulted Mercury from all sides. She gagged. How could these people be happy? Don't be sick, stand up straight! Mercury repeated the words again and again, counting the seconds until this torture would be over.
A sudden blast tore through the air.
Mercury was in the Games again, struggling to get Drake to breathe, the cannon shot crushing her futile hope and last shreds of innocence.
Another. Mercury struck her forehead on the chariot as she tried to hid. The blow woke her up. She forced her eyes to focus on the present.
The President was on the floor; the Head Gamemaker shouting for help.
Not cannons, guns.
Mercury's lips parted in shock.
Her chariot was halfway across the arena. Pure terror shot through her veins. Aster! Mercury focused on the front rows of the audience, where escorts and victors were scrambling for cover. The sudden hammering of her heart slowly decreased as she made out Aster's moving form. She could breathe again.
The cheers had turned into screams of terror and pain, a stampede breaking out in the middle rows.
Mercury counted three fallen escorts, two women and a man. The obese escort from Seven was clutching his leg. She blinked, unable to make sense of what was happening.
At least a score of people had been shot down when a second brand of gunshots resounded, further away.
"Order!" A voice boomed in the coliseum.
As one, the Capitolites froze and turned to the President's alcove.
A small, thin man, with paper-white hair and thick lips was standing with a microphone in his hands.
"Give way to the medics, we shall not let terrorists goad us into mass panic! As we speak my men are interrogating the few surviving rebels. We shall discover where they obtained their weapons and swiftly punish any who gave them assistance. We have been too lenient! We must remind…"
Mercury didn't hear the rest of his speech. It didn't make any sense.
The aim had been fabulous. Snipers in the Capitol? Rebel snipers? Rebels that well equipped and prepared would have shot the Gamemakers after the President, or the now hidden Caesar. Escorts maybe, but random targets in the crowd? Rebels that prepared would have had grenades or automatics if their aim was mass damage. They'd have needed massive inside support to get so close. The old man's peacekeepers would not have found them in less than five minutes. There would not have been just a handful of snipers. It would not have been so pointless.
"Get out of there!"
Aster had reached her now immobile Chariot, a tight look on his face. Dante wasn't far behind, tears in his eyes.
She jumped off, still trying to make sense of the killing, almost tripping on her over-the-top dress. Aster steadied her, his grip painful on her arm.
The Capitol crowd was shouting for blood, a grim-looking horde of malevolent peacocks. Mercury couldn't believe her eyes.
"Who is this man?"
"Snow" Dante muttered, "Coriolanus Snow."