Page 14 of Wings of Ebony
She narrows her eyes like she’s deciphering a code.
Translation. “You’re really smart, Bri. This is impressive. And bump anyone who says different.”
She chews her lip, then smiles. “Y-yeah. B-bump?”
“Bump.”
“Bump them!”
I smile. Can’t even help it. I turn the gadget over and over in my hands. “You can make anything? Like,anythinganything?”
“I’ll put it like this: I’ve nevernotbeen able to make something I tried to make.”
“How long does it take you to make stuff like this?”
“Depends. Why, what are you thinking?”
Tasha’s face ripples in my memory. Her tears, the screaming when the CPS lady came and took her away. I rub the edges of Moms’s photo in my pocket.
Travel. I wanna go home.
CHAPTER 5
THE EARTHY SCENT OFGhizon hits me like a slap. Slate walls surround me, and a draft creeps through my cotton hoodie, chilling my bones. I land on the metal deck at the south end of New Ghizon’s Central District, staggering as I try to catch my balance. My head’s swimming. That transport spell makes light rail travel feel like snail speed.
Great, I’m “home.”
Patrol pulls me upright by my throbbing wrists. Sickness sloshes in my gut and breathing takes more concentration. I wish I could just explain why I did what I did. Get them to understand. But that’s foolish. My best bet is to get away from them first chance I get.
Creaky aluminum lights bob overhead, swaying in the humid island air. An array of metals clank, suspended in the air, snapping and shifting together piece by piece, assembling themselves. The warehouse? They’re taking me through the warehouse? We push our way through the room, which feels like an auto hobby shop, buzzing with magic mechanics and maintenance crews. Patrol’s heelsclack clack clackon the floor and my heart echoes their beat.
The sounds of tinkering dissolve into a silence that would freeze a pot of boiling blood.
Bystanders pause. Work halts.
Despite my hazy vision, it’s clear: All eyes are on me. I want to ask what the hell they’re looking at, but I keep my head down, focusing on the woozy pulsing, which, thanks to Tasha’s water, is a bit better. Shouldn’t they be in class? Or somewhere besides here, gossiping, gawking? You’d think I’d be used to it by now. People tripped when I first showed up. A Ghizoni girl being Bound the same day as me even asked totouchmy skin. Like, what?
“Where to, Keef?” A pair of Patrolmen fall in line behind me, one at each side.
“Straight to the Chancellor with this one.” Three guards escort me.
Three.
For saving someone’s life.
Muted pounding beats in the distance. We push open the steel doors at the back of the warehouse and a dusky sky greets us. Outside, a cemented path twists and turns around the tall steel and glass buildings that make up the Central District of New Ghizon. It’s weird that they call itnewGhizon, when there is nooldGhizon. Colorful tents and food and craft vendors line the walkway as far as I can see.
I scan for red square frames and unruly blond flyaways. No luck. She has to know my lack of a response means I got caught up… I hope. Where is she?
Crowds of people move through the street dancing, arms and legs covered in multicolored stripes, while thetingof plucked strings ring in the air. Celebrating. Happy. Oblivious to the fact that my sister almost died today.
Buildings as tall as skyscrapers loom on either side of the crowd.Their lacquered walls dotted with rows of windows stare like hundreds of peering eyes. The farthest building in New Ghizon’s Central District is my dorm-style hall. Oversized screens hang outside the residence dorms, the Infirm Ward, almost every tall building in the District, playing the usual images of the Chancellor, smiling and waving, on repeat.
Always on repeat.
To the west, Yiyo Peak, jagged and dotted with specks of glass, kisses the fading sun. Even its radiance annoys me. Thousands of homes shine like squares of polished glass dug into its jagged surface. Twinkling lights grow brighter, like a night sky plastered onto a mountainside. The brilliance should mesmerize, but each flicker is as comforting as candles on a grave.
Banners slung from one end to the other without strings readABDU YOI’FURI—DAY OF THE FOUNDERS. That’s right. Thatistoday. Of course, of all days I could be arrested, I’m snatched up just as half of Ghizon takes to the streets to herald its founder. Their glasses clink, overflowing with fizzing drinks.“J’syon hi!” Good health.
