The next five days pass in a blur. I catch bits and pieces of the Games, which are showing everywhere: A replay of the other tributes' reactions to the death photos on Deadly Day Seven. Jessi grins when she sees two dead Careers. Tansy and Osbern look thoughtful. Robin's boy cries when he sees his district partner.
Flora finally bleeds out ten hours after she's wounded. Her mentor Toria sends her a parachute with medicine but she isn't able to remove the blade from her stomach. Malachite stumbles across the boy from Nine, but fails to kill him and little Kern flees. The boy from One is rewarded with a tussle with one of the tawny lions roaming the plains. The big cat wins, and I can hear Glory ranting about useless spoiled brats from three stories up.
Osbern finds himself stampeded by a herd of black and white striped horses. Zebras, apparently. He tries to catch one with his lasso and fails. Not long after, wild dogs start herding him towards Jessi's location.
Dido calls to say a brief hello, and to inform me that she will probably be back for next year's Games after Marco's atrocious efforts at dressing Allasan. Damascus Riley calls me back down to the Wisteria Street workshop to examine the new prototype engine they've decided on. I can't help but be pleased at the increase in lift efficiency produced by my suggestions. It's a nice reminder that there are other important things to consider in the Capitol besides death.
Brutus finally tracks down Zia, who doesn't last long without her sword. Robin's boy Kern comes across Tansy sleeping, and seems a lot less troubled about killing her now. When they show a close-up of his face, I can see the ragged signs of the monster underneath. Like Sparrow in my games, he seems to have cracked slightly, muttering to himself and giggling at odd moments while he steals her few supplies.
On day ten, Kern's erratic wandering takes him towards Jessi's waterhole. He screams incoherently when he sees her and tries to jump her from behind. She catches his arm and slings him over her shoulder, down into the water below. The muddy tussle ends with a cannon and his drowned body floating to the surface.
Clara and Perry drag me out to lunch again, and we watch with the rest of the café as Brutus faces off with the lion that killed Malachite. He takes a few scratches and a shallow bite to his arm, but is victorious in the end. Osbern receives a similar visit from a pair of younger beasts. His weapon of choice—a long spear—sees one dead, the other fleeing without them landing a blow on him.
The Gamemakers give them all time to recover, and I join a larger than average crowd in the Viewing Hall for day thirteen of the Games. Like me, many of the others have a feeling that today will be the day it's all over.
It's unusual for only one of the three remaining tributes to be a Career, and even less usual for all three to have similar odds of winning. My personal bet is on the boy from Two, though I'd rather see either of the others win out.
Herds of grazers and small packs of hunters slowly force the final three together, and around mid-morning the first of the inevitable meetings finally happens.
Osbern and Jessi circle one-another cautiously, mock-politeness in their conversation as they ask how the other is doing. Finally he sighs and says, "Well I s'pose we should get down to it."
"I suppose we should," she replies, and they both move in.
I wish I could shout to them, just team up and take out Brutus first. My subconscious powers of thought clearly don't work, and the two begin an unexpectedly ferocious fight. Jessi is nimble and prepared to kill, Osbern is big and strong, but still hesitant. He hasn't spilled blood yet these Games, and seems even more reluctant to strike out at a girl.
It gets them both killed in the end, her knife entering the base of his spine, causing his arm to jerk the razor-sharp metal edge of his spear up under her ribs. They both fall apart, bleeding heavily, and their cannons fire within minutes of one another, leaving Brutus from Two, nearly a mile away as the victor. He doesn't look happy when the trumpets blare, and yells at the hovercraft that comes to collect him that he was cheated of his glorious final fight.
We all turn to look at Vikus, who shrugs and says "He still thinks it matters. He'll learn." The older man from Two frowns as the cameras show Brutus punch the metal wall of the hovercraft in anger, leaving a visible dent.
"I hope he learns," he adds softly as he rises to shake hands with Boyd and Abram before heading out the door.
~xXx~
Apart from a few cuts and bruises , the half-healed broken nose, and two broken fingers from punching the hovercraft, Brutus has no other injuries. He went into the Games prepared to fight and kill. The blood on his hands doesn't bother his mind, or so he says. As such the Games viewing takes place two days after they pull him out of the Arena. I sit with the other mentors as we watch our new victor watch the Games. He gloats whenever there is a kill, raises a fist to egg on the cheering crowd during the Career-pack fight, and when he kills Zia and the lion, and doesn't scowl too much as the remaining tributes take each-other out.
As neither of our tributes made the top eight, we're not required at the Victory Banquet. I catch Clara, Perry, Gamicus and Royan for a late dinner at Perry's favourite seafood place. They're going out to one of the Games parties after, and invite me to come along. I consider drowning out the night in a haze of alcohol and noise, but decide it's probably not the best idea. I tell them I have to get up early, and escape back to the Training Centre. It's quiet and wonderfully peaceful.
I can hear Cupros snoring already, the door to his room slightly ajar. Someone's got the right idea. I'm not quite sleepy enough yet to do the same, though I am feeling a bit wrung out as I often do after being out in the city with people. I slump into the couch and kick off the toe-pinching shoes with a sigh of relief. As I stretch out, I hear a soft clink from the supposedly empty tribute rooms.
Probably an Avox cleaning up, I tell myself after a moment of panic, though why they would be doing it now and not tomorrow once we've all left...
I force myself to stand, shoe in hand as I quietly wander over, and nearly run into Lorcan in the doorway. His arm reaches out to catch me as I fall and I grab his shirt-front for balance.
"Sorry, sorry," he says quickly as he steadies me back upright. He holds up his other hand triumphantly, showing me a shiny airbrush head, one of his favourite tools for painting designs on nails.
"Must have rolled under the bed. I thought I hadn't brought it since we didn't end up using it for the interviews, but couldn't find it at home. I thought I would have one last look here before my pass expired for the year."
Makes sense. Suddenly I remember the last time I spent some time with Lorcan, a few months back when I passed out drunk on his shoulder and he took me home. We haven't really had a chance to talk during the Games. Not that I do talking well anyway. Or that I really wanted to talk to him more in particular, though he is the best of the prep team members for a chat.
He seems to notice how close we're standing and flushes slightly, stepping out into the corridor to get a bit of space. "Anyway I should be going I guess. It was good to see you, and I'll catch you next year, or maybe see you out again."
He pauses at the door. "Unless you want me to stay? For a little bit I mean."
I push aside the part of me that just said I didn't want to talk to him. "Coffee?" I ask, and a slow smile creeps over his face. "Sure," he says. "One coffee, then I'll get going."
I'm not sure if he's telling me or himself. Maybe he's not sure either. I use the drinks machine in my room, and bring the steaming mugs out to the lounge. In the distance we can see the fireworks starting to go up at the Victory Banquet. I can't remember if there were fireworks for me last year. Maybe they just like Brutus better.
"I've heard he's a bit of an asshole," Lorcan says, nodding in that direction. "Apparently he tried to grope Imelia while she was prepping him for the stage tonight. I mean there's nothing wrong with a bit of a cuddle, but Mel's more into women than men, and he wasn't good at hearing no. At least that's what she said."
Ugh. I can think of a few grabby people I've met in the Capitol. I imagine it wasn't my looks they were going for, just my status. Brutus is welcome to them, and it sounds like they might be well matched. Lorcan shifts in his seat slightly and his leg brushes against mine. The warmth startles me for a second then becomes comfortable. I don't move away. The airbrush head is sitting on the table in front of us, and gives me an idea.
"So," I say, "Airbrush. I could make...make...you a better...one."
He raises an eyebrow and the uncertain smile becomes a challenging grin. "Oh really? Better than this little beauty?"
"Much better," I tell him. "Multi-cartridge for different colors, longer and finer nozzle, better grip. Would go for longer before it needed a break."
His eyes widen slightly and he licks his lips before carefully answering, "Just the things every man wants."
I realize he's flirting with me. Even worse, I realize it sounds like I started it. There's just one out.
"Every man wants...wants to be a...be a...different...color?"
As soon as I'm not talking about work, the speech gaps are right back. He laughs.
"Honey, this is the Capitol. Different color is just the start."
The warmth of his leg is sending tingles up mine. I decide that maybe I like him flirting with me a little and try to surreptitiously move closer. Now it's his turn to freeze for a second, then he slowly, cautiously reaches out his arm along the back of the couch and lets his fingers brush my right shoulder. When I don't complain he draws me closer so that my head is once again resting on his shoulder. He looks down at me with a lazy grin. "As I said before, nothing wrong with a bit of a cuddle. Though I know you don't like people touching you much. Let me know and I'll move."
His fingers brush up and down my shoulder again, and I shiver but it's a good shiver.
"You're fine," I say quietly, for the first time in three weeks glad that Beetee isn't here. "I trust you."
I let my arm slide across so that my hand is resting on his stomach. It's very comfortable. So comfortable I could probably fall asleep like this. I'd never hear the end of it from Cupros if he woke before me, especially if he told anyone. I sigh regretfully, and Lorcan echoes it. "I should probably go," he says, though he makes no move to get up.
"Probably, in case Cupros..." My fellow victor gives a nasally snore through the open door, but Lorcan nods.
"He'll wake at some point, and it might not look great. I don't want to ruin your reputation and I've heard people in the districts take this sort of thing more seriously."
He sits up with a groan and I push myself away, telling myself I didn't want any more than this anyway. He stands and stretches so that his shirt lifts and I catch a glimpse of his pale skin and a flash of gold tattoo. He grins again when he sees me looking and reaches over me for the airbrush head on the table, his arm gently brushing my hair.
"Maybe I'll show you my tattoos another time." I hate that I blush, and pretend to glare.
"I...uh..."
He gives me a reassuring smile.
"We'll see I guess. If you are ever around and bored or lonely, feel free to look me up."
I stand to walk him to the door, even though he can let himself out just fine. It doesn't feel right to just let him walk away. We both stifle a laugh at another of Cupros' squeaky snores and he turns to face me one last time before leaving. "You know, I'm kind of glad Beetee didn't come. I would have never been able to do this otherwise."
Before I can say a word he leans down and presses his lips to mine, and only because I've done this once before do I manage not to squeak and fall over. He draws away and tips his fingers to his short blonde fringe and gets to the lift before I think of anything to say. Not that it would be a good thing to say, that he's too good looking for me. Or too tall. Too Capitol.
I can't help it. I like him just a little bit. I'm not the sort of girl who moons over pretty boys, never have been. Why is it that in the Capitol I find my emotions flip-flopping like a bit of foil in the wind? Suddenly I can't wait to get home, where no-one will confuse me like they do here.
~xXx~
Father and Ezra meet us at the train station. I can see Allasan's family, who I spoke to on the phone after she died, waiting by the end carriage for a pine box I really don't want to think about. The other group must be Elmett's family. His parents and his brother and sister Wills and Soni, their tears visible from here. I'm not sure I can talk to them. Ezra puts his arm around my shoulder, and hoists my larger bag as he leads me towards the bus stop. My mind jumps back to last night, when the arm around my shoulder had a very different meaning, and I stumble slightly.
"Easy Ress," Ezra murmurs as he catches my fall. I can't count the number of times he's caught me tumbling while I've been lost in daydreams as a kid. He'll make a great father once the baby comes. A baby that will one day grow up and be in the reaping, and might get called up just because they're related to me, just like Seeder's niece. I stumble again, and this time he stops until he's sure I'm steady.
"You don't know when it will hit you," I hear Cupros say from behind. "She's done well so far. It'll pass in time."
He thinks my mind is still on the tribute I've already left behind. For a second I feel guilty, then I let just a little bit of the monster inside me peek through to swallow up the guilt. It's better behaved if I let it out every now and then and I don't want to trip over again.
"Well, once you get home and have a shower and a good rest you'll be better," Ezra says as we reach the stop. "I should probably mention that Malcy fell down the stairs just before we left. Nothing serious, just put his tooth through his lip, but that's where Mother and Balia are. Now wouldn't it be nice if my siblings didn't all walk around with their heads in the clouds, falling over?"
He grins, and I manage to smile back. If the baby is born safely, we have at least twelve years before we have to worry. Even then, they might not target him or her. Everything might be ok. It will just be some other child in the pine box.
I let the monster out a bit more, just for the ride home, I tell it sternly. No more morbid thoughts until I'm back with the people I love most.
"How's Beetee?" Cupros grunts as we step off the bus and start the hike up the dirt road to the Victor's Village.
"Better," Father says. "Much better. Furious with himself for letting it happen, of course, but he's all but recovered."
Sure enough, he's out waiting for us. Pale, a little shaky and seriously underweight, he at least sounds like his normal self again as he apologises to both of us. Cupros just grunts and stomps back towards his own house, ready for some peaceful solitude. I give Beetee my nicest smile, and reach out and squeeze his arm to let him know the apology wasn't necessary and all is fine. He nearly jumps out of his skin, and I berate myself for forgetting I'm not the only one who doesn't like being touched. Usually.
I thought home was where I didn't have to worry about any of this. I shake my head, and go inside my own house, leaving the door open for Beetee to follow or not as he likes. Malcy is propped up on the couch in the lounge, an ice cube wrapped in a bit of cloth pressed on his swollen lip. Balia flings herself across the room to hug me, then pulls me over to Malcy so our little brother doesn't try to get up.
"Wireff? Mouff hurt. Fee?"
He lifts away the cloth, and for a moment there is blood everywhere in my mouth, down my throat, drowning me, choking me. I shake it away. Just a bad memory and a split lip.
Balia takes his hand and presses the cloth back on. "Silly billy. Put the ice back and it won't hurt as much. Now, keep it on for another five minutes and I'll sing you another song. Ok?"
He nods, his tousled curls bouncing up and down with his head, and I sit down next to him, letting Balia curl against my legs as she starts singing about little children going bump out of bed. As always, her voice helps bring me and my wild thoughts home.