Green Death Page 2

  I could undo this puzzle. I knew I could. I had to.

  I was damned good at what I did. I could come up with a way to purify the air, if given enough time and support. I could reverse at least a little bit of our family’s darkness.

  Everything within me demanded I start working on it right that instant, but I knew I was going to have to set up a safety net first.

  I was going to request a new project. One that didn’t make me hate myself quite as much as developing poisons.

  I’d have to make sure Vodayn knew how damned good he’d look once I succeeded. Oligarch Vodayn Sant, member of the Highest Council, loving his people enough to endlessly search for a way to right a wrong imposed so long ago. He might say no at first, but the thought of garnering the admiration of the people would linger, and eventually he’d relent.

  The file transfer and conversion finished, and I removed the crystal D-drive without wiping its contents. If—when—Vodayn decided to say no to my request, he’d probably come in here and destroy anything that looked remotely like great-grandfather’s work. This device would be obvious. It was the right age, and as soon as Vodayn looked at the file names, he’d know. But he’d be suspicious if I’d wiped it.

  He’d also be able to access everything I copied into the lab storage network and delete that. As Oligarch, he alone had the codes to delete data off our database. Not even I could do that.

  So I needed another backup.

  I dug through a few of my recently-copied D-drives. One, looking to be over two hundred years old, had the faint label laboratory plans and day-to-day running on it.

  I smiled.

  Vodayn wouldn’t throw that away or wipe it, not when it pertained to the original building of this place—even if we already had copies of copies of copies in the laboratory archive. This was a backup of the original design files, not the documents in our network that had been fiddled with by seven or eight generations wanting to add their mark. All I’d done to this D-drive was copy the files onto the lab’s network then update the file types so they’d be readable. No, Vodayn would overlook this as being entirely innocent—and altogether too boring to check for secrets.

  I moved Great-Grandfather’s documents over onto it, renaming the files things like humidity control and habitat plans for the Low Country Tryg. They fit right into the rest of the file titles. It’d be nearly impossible to find, unless Vodayn opened each file manually. Everything had a last-updated date of today, since I’d made the modernized file copies only a few hours earlier.

  I put the original crystal drive, the one I’d found the information about the Green Death on, in the already-copied box, reached for another old D-drive, and started transferring its ancient data. I left the box next to my computer.

  Then I pulled on my work gloves and took the drive filled with building plans and forbidden knowledge across the hall and into my laboratory.

  The lights were a dim red, now that evening had fallen. A dozen tiny security cameras littered the ceiling—most of these working—so I acted as naturally as I could. From the menagerie in the back, a host of quiet rustling and hissing told me that some of the nocturnal snakes were slithering through their huge cages, looking for the prey I’d dropped in during feeding time earlier in the day.

  I cupped the D-drive of lab plans in the palm of my glove and held it close to my leg so that the cameras didn’t pick it up. I walked over to the snakes.

  Nunet’s ten-gallon cage—incredibly small, in comparison to the others—rested on my most-used work surface. She was my favorite of the creatures, and she required frequent milking since her venom lost potency and turned useless very quickly.

  There was a little storage cupboard blocked by her cage, mostly hidden from the rest of the lab—and, more importantly, from all but one of the security cameras. I’d only used it for tools and cage cleaning supplies and a multitude of tiny things I rarely actually needed, though might occasionally come in handy to have within reach.

  I moved her cage just enough to crack the cupboard door a few inches, peeled open the top of an old box, and tucked the drive down into the bottom, below several layers of closely-packed heat bulbs. I plucked one of the heat bulbs out, as if that was what I’d been after this whole time. Then I cracked the outer casing of Nunet’s cage topper, removed the old bulb, and replaced it with the new one.

  I tossed the old one into the disposal and waved my gloved hand over a sensor on my workstation. A holographic screen leaped to life, and I scrolled through to the lab’s maintenance log. There, I registered the light bulb change, and put the station to sleep again.

  A little thrill ran through me. I had knowledge nobody was supposed to have. Technically I had a lot of that, but as the family’s secret poison master, I’d been granted that access with Vodayn’s permission.

  I doubted he’d give permission for this, though I had to try. It was a project I didn’t think I could resist—finally chasing after an antidote that could help multitudes, instead of just one or two people at a time. It could be the ultimate penance for my own crimes.

  The absolute need to make it had me shaking as I closed the lab back up behind me.

  When I slipped across the hall and back into my office, Arris was leaning against the wall next to my computer, waiting. He held the crystal D-drive between two sausage-sized fingers, turning it over in his hands like it was a curious puzzle.

  His tanned, deeply-scarred face was blank. He never let anything show in the corners or creases, as if he dunked his head in muscle relaxant every morning just to keep any evidence of emotions away. But his eyes held a little spark in them as he studied the label. Curiosity.

  “Arris!” I tried to smile, and my heart started to thunder so loudly that I felt it in my ears. I glanced at the dim computer screen and held back a relieved sigh. I’d remembered to trigger the DNA lockout. Arris wouldn’t have been able to access anything.

  Only Vodayn, his ten-year-old son and heir, and I could log into the lab’s database. And Vodayn would learn of my findings in the morning.

  I plucked the drive out of his hands. “This is okay, since I cleaned it before bringing it over here, but you should never touch something that came from inside the lab with your bare hands without first seeing it cleaned off and wiped down. There’s always a chance something deadly has spilled onto it.”

  Arris shrugged and didn’t resist as I shoved the drive back into the box.

  “I’m almost done with these, but I know there’s probably more old backup systems scattered through the lab. Boring as hell, but it must be done. I know Vodayn didn’t do it during his four-year tenure, nor our father in his forty-year stint before that. So it’s time. Everything needs an update so we don’t lose anything important, and we need the cleared data storage for current backups. The old D-drives are so much more efficient and—”

  I cut my babble off by biting my lip. Heat seeped into my cheeks. Arris still frightened me and put me on edge, even now.

  He grunted and shut the office door behind me. Then he crowded me against the thick metal that made up every single door in the mansion’s sub-basement. He ran a hand over his short black hair, one of his little habits that only came out when we were alone.

  Even with his scars, he was the most handsome man in the mansion. Sometimes I wondered what he saw in a scrawny little lab rat like me. I’d always hoped I’d fill out like Vodayn, but I’d never gotten the growth spurt, and weights never seemed to do anything for me. I’d stopped trying when I realized that Arris didn’t care.

  Arris’s gaze flickered down over my clothing. “Do you need a wipe down?”

  I peeled off my barrier gloves, stashed them in the small cleaning container next to the door, and shook my head. I was always, always careful in what I touched. I’d learned the hard way, when I was ten. It was the only time I saw Vodayn worry for me while he took three agonizing hours to hunt down the antidote for the small vial of poison I’d spilled. I’d reorganized and restocked
the antidotes section of the lab as my first job once I’d recovered. “I’m okay.”

  “Do you want one?” His words came out rough, and he put his hands on either side of my shoulders, touching the door and barring my escape route.

  “Always.” He was the closest thing to a lover I’d ever had. I was desperate for what little I could get. But I wasn’t about to ask for more. I’d just give in to him. Every time. It’s how this started, after all. He caught me staring at him, when I was eighteen and he was twenty-two, and little by little, he gave me the gift of touch.

  “On your knees.”

  His voice rippled through me. I sank down, my spine digging into the door so hard I knew I’d have small bruises along the ridge of it in the morning. My knees hit the hard floor, and I reached up to the waistband of his black waterproof pants.

  He was still dressed for the job.

  I pushed the thought away firmly. I had these fleeting moments of happiness, and a challenge when I started new projects, and a roof over my head. I had a better life than a lot of people in Eastrend. I shouldn’t stare so hard at the darkness surrounding the good things. Not if I wanted to keep surviving.

  I dug his cock out and lapped at the tip. A little bit soapy—he’d showered after he came back. So the work clothes would be fresh too. Thankfully.

  I looked up at his face as I took the length of him in my mouth. This was the moment I waited for, every single time we did this. The moment his hard shell cracked just a bit.

  His eyes slammed shut as I swallowed him down, eyelashes fluttering as his hips jerked. The skin around his deepest scar puckered a little as he clenched his jaw.

  This was the face I worked for. Just a hint of the real Arris, as if I’d managed to peel away a sliver of his tough outer layer.

  “More,” he said.

  I grunted around his shaft, swallowing over and over as he thrust in farther. He filled my throat, nearly triggering my gag reflex, but I fought hard to take him deep.

  Then he clamped his hands on my head and held me still, and I no longer had any control. His fingers dug into my stretched-wide jaw as he pushed into me, pinning me to the door with nowhere to go. Saliva gathered fast and dripped down my chin as I fought to breathe through my nose. Arris watched, impassive, as I tried not to struggle. After a few thrusts, he let me go and dragged himself back just far enough for me to swallow and grab a breath.

  I prided myself in my ability to take him all the way to the root—I went rock hard, every time, and tonight was no exception—but he always came fast like this. I’d get nothing but an aching throat, a savage erection, and a deep craving for Arris’s cock that masturbation couldn’t sooth.

  But he wanted it deep today, so I sucked him back in as far as I could. The second try was always a little easier, and he grunted his approval as I bobbed and sucked and tightened my throat around him.

  He held me in place, bright bursts of sharp pain rippling over my scalp where his fingers tightened in my hair, and began short, controlled thrusts.

  I kept my gaze on his face, though tears collected in my lashes as the oxygen deprivation and the constant war with my gag reflex sent my tear ducts into overdrive.

  He emptied himself less than a minute later, and I barely tasted his bitterness with as far down my throat as he’d shoved himself. He pulled away, and I sat gasping for air at his feet.

  “My place tonight,” he said softly.

  The words hit me like bricks. He’d never invited me back to his rooms before. He ran the pads of his thick fingers over my scalp in a strange half-massage.

  This had to be it. Our relationship had to be progressing. He was giving me something more. Was this what love was like?

  I stared up at him, but he was watching me with that same blank face as always.

  I nodded.

  * * * * *

  I lay on Arris’s bed, naked, sore, exhausted, and covered in lube. He’d gone to the shower right after our fuck, but he’d turned on the news first.

  “Riots have begun yet again in the Exclusion Zone, the third time this month. Two large fires have been set already today, the updrafts clearing the fog nearly completely in some places, and cameras have caught what looks to be another full-scale battle of Greenie against Greenie.”

  I watched the images that appeared before me with far more attention than I usually did this sort of broadcast. They panned over the impossibly high wall that blocked in all the poisoned air, the concrete a thousand feet thick in places. Then the green haze appeared, covering all but a couple dozen chimney-like devices stretching high into the untainted air.

  I’d grown up seeing images of this same scenario, but now it unnerved me more than ever. This was, we’d all learned through myriad documentaries and news broadcasts, what happened when our country was torn apart by rebellion. Or what happened when our enemies attacked. Or when accidents happened. Or some sort of self-sabotage within the rebellion.

  Now I knew different. It hadn’t been an accident, or an external attack, or anything like that. It’d been the government. It’d been the Sants. This was my family’s secret legacy.

  We weren’t just murderers on a small scale. I hated the idea of being a murderer, but I could also see why my brother thought it was necessary to maintain peace. Eastrend had been a victim of too many wars in our long history. But this? Five square miles of victims packed into high rise apartments, most of whom had been innocent of rebellion? Generations of the survivors tainted and doomed?

  Perhaps Vodayn would accept my proposal, once I wrote it up and sent it out. Perhaps he would agree that we could do much for the family name and the good of the people if he allowed me to start research on antidotes for the Green Death.

  It’d been ninety years, after all. Whatever rationality Great-Grandfather had used to commit such an atrocity would have lost its importance long ago. And nobody had to know it was us who caused it, even if we were the ones to come up with a cure.

  The muted rush of water cut off, and I tried to ignore the sounds of Arris moving around his en suite bathroom.

  I stared at the screen as the cameras panned closer to the nearly-clear columns of air around the large fires. Men and women, dressed in out-of-fashion clothing in various shades of brown and black, fought one another. Many of them had intricate tattoos on their faces—curling up over their cheeks and leeching onto their foreheads, some sort of cultural thing, according to the documentaries—and some of them had no tattoos at all.

  Greenies weren’t green, except for their eyes. Here, as the cameras zoomed way in on the thinned patch of fog, I got a startlingly close-up view of one particularly large tattoo-free brute. As he battered his opponent—blood sprayed fine from the victim’s nose—I caught sight of what should have been the whites of his eyes. They looked like they’d been stained a poisonous lime color.

  Just like in the pictures I’d seen earlier.

  What component of Great-Grandfather’s poison had done that to this man? Was it a reaction to the poison still in the air—whether by breathing or by external transfer—or was it a change in the DNA?

  “It’s a really clear day in there, isn’t it?”

  I leaned forward, trying to get a better view of the man’s eyes.

  Arris clapped, and the sharp noise nearly sent me jumping out of my skin. “Is the news that riveting?” He jerked me from my intense scrutiny of the broadcast. He stood at the bathroom door, towel wrapped around his waist. He had a couple scars on his chest—had I ever seen him shirtless before? I frowned. I didn’t think so. This had to be the start of a new stage in our relationship.

  “I never really watched anything about Greenies before, beyond what the tutors covered.” I shrugged. “It’s—I always kind of ignored it, since it happened before my time. But now I’m wondering what it’d take, poison-wise, to do that to them. The overwhelming aggression and the discolored eyes, I mean.”

  Arris flopped down on the bed next to me and stared at the images flashin
g across the screen. “Thinking of finding a way to recreate that mess?”

  I shuddered. “No. I may be coming to terms with individual murders that have very specific reasons behind them, but I don’t think I could mentally rationalize a blanket death sentence.”

  “Elderly, children, those who had nothing to do with government or anti-government activities…” Arris stared hard at the screen. His eyes had gone cold, though his voice remained even and almost bored-sounding. The disparity sent chills down my spine. “Whether accidental or a chemical attack, nothing else could have brought our country together so quickly.”

  I didn’t know if I’d ever heard him talk so much before, but his words made sense. Perhaps that’s what Great-Grandfather had been after, that unification.

  I dug my fingers into my hair, finding the tender places Arris had left on my scalp. “Why has nobody ever found an antidote? Why does it still hang there, in the air? Is the poison that complicated? It’s not immediately deadly, so some study must have happened at some point.” I looked away from the screen as the news shifted to a different topic.

  Arris looked at me then. His eyes seemed like two endless pools of black, showing me the darkness inside his soul. “Kid, you ask too many questions to survive safely in this world.”

  I bristled at the kid comment. He was only seven years older than I was. But I understood the implicit warning in his speech, in his gaze.

  I sighed and rolled off the bed. “Can I use your shower?”

  He narrowed his eyes and shrugged. “Sure. You can’t walk back to your room in such a state, anyway. The guards don’t need to know we’re fucking.”

  And just like that, I knew my place with him. He was my brother’s lackey, first and foremost. I was his fling. I’d never find anything more permanent in this house, and I’d never escape it either.

  I had the sudden urge to do something completely reckless. Throw a shoe, scream, something. Instead, I got up and padded into the bathroom.