Page 20 of Want It All
Compromise the omega.
My vision tunnelled, white bleeding into the edges of my sight as rage and fear flared through me, all consuming. I could barely swallow the roar that threatened to tear from my throat.
I’ll destroy them.
I was on my feet the next moment, ignoring the pain, ready to hunt down the Revels immediately. I was sprinting through the maze, crushing the paper between my fingers, before it hit me.
Rosemary. They could meanRosemary.
I stopped, skidding to a halt. I looked down at the paper, smoothing it out.
Compromise the omega.
For a moment, I asked myselfwhy. Why would they want me to do that? And what did they mean bycompromise? I assumed it wasn’t in a historical sense, wherecompromisingmight be as simple as being alone in a room with her. Did they mean to make her unsafe? To sabotage her work? Manipulate her emotionally?
I realised it was up to me; the Revels weren’t going to give me any guidance. That was the point. They’d just watch, and wait, and evaluate whatever I chose to do.
I could do nothing.
I buried that thought before it could take root. This was for Sebastian. While Rosemary seemed nice enough, she wasn’t really a friend, and now she was a target.
Compromise the omega.
I stopped at the entrance of the maze to collect a handful of lemon myrtle leaves for Sebastian, then made my way back towards the manor, my mind whirling with possibilities.
Akookaburra’scallwoundthrough the air.
It wasn’t close, but I wondered what had set it off. The afternoon was hot, and it was a stupid time to be outside, especially so for me, wearing all black and heavy boots. My skin was getting burned and I was sticky with sweat; I could catch enough of my own scent to know that I needed a shower and another dose of blockers.
Scent blockers weren’t perfect, no matter how much the government protested otherwise. Their mantra wasresponsible scent managementand that was fine – most of the time. Low doses of blockers were added to the water supply, which covered the alphas, betas, and very few omegas in most workplaces, minimising their scent profiles. Additional scent-blocking tablets were mandatory for anyone in an educational institution, medical establishment, legal workplace, government department, or jail. But according to Dr. Ford, blockers could be affected by hormonal changes, anxiety and stress, illness, meeting a scent match, and – as evidenced by me in the currentmoment – just plain excessive sweating, so if you wanted them to work, you needed to be very,veryresponsible.
Banksia provided medical-grade blockers for students and staff, but it wasn’t like that everywhere. Blocking tablets were subsidised by the public healthcare system, but they weren’t exactlycheap. It was just another way that our society silently ensured that certain jobs and types of education were reserved for the rich and for alphas and betas, because omegas needed higher doses than everyone else to mask their stronger scents.
The world isn’t made for omegas, Tina said in my memory again, this time sadly.
I hated hearing her sad. I wished that every memory was happy, that every word that bubbled up from my subconscious was joyful and tinged with her loud laughter. But that wouldn’t be the truth. Tina was made of light and dark, just like everyone else.
My hair blew into my face; I ran my fingers through it, gathering it into a haphazard bun.
The gardens around the manor were lovely, but I craved something wilder. My dad had slipped a brochure beneath my door while I was in class, a map of walks around the Banksia property and beyond. I’d decided on a shorter one to start, mostly because it took me to the cliffs.
The view was breathtaking. The sea was a million shades of blue, and I could hear the waves crash against the rocks below, losing myself in its unceasing, sibilant roar.
Tina had loved the beach. She’d always planned to move to the coast. She loved the slower pace, the heat, the sea breeze, and the tempestuousness of the ocean.
‘That’s enough of that,’ I told myself, standing to brush the grass from my jeans. I was having dinner with my parents later, and they didn’t need me to be morose.
They were already sad enough.
The kookaburra called again, a little closer this time. The walk back to the manor took me through a patch of bush, and I followed the sandy, meandering path through the trees, enjoying the dappled light and slightly cooler air. The scent of eucalyptus was thick and cloying, and I hoped some of it would cling to me, disguising my sweeter scent until I got back to my room and could shower and take another dose of blockers. I always carried extra rut medication – essentially a mild sedative – as it was a requirement of myrecovery plan, but I’d need to remember to carry cancellers and blockers in this heat, too, at least until I became more used to the climate.
I reached out to touch the trunk of a gum tree, tracing the mottled grey pattern on its bark. I’d been lucky enough to travel overseas with my parents a number of times, but nothing quite compared to the beauty of Australia’s south-east. Parts of it were stark, and parts of it lush; parts of it were rocky, and others, verdant.
I’d never felt so much athomeanywhere else.
A magpie carolled overhead, then gave a harsher call. A rustle came from nearby, barely audible; I froze, my heart leaping up my throat as I noticed a smooth undulation of brown and yellow through the brushy undergrowth. It was moving away from me, so I stood still until the tiger snake’s scales were no longer visible, and when I started walking again, I let my feet fall heavily on the ground.
Fuck.
