Jay Posey - Morningside Fall

Bodies. Or what was left of them. They were black from burning, hacked, some missing limbs. Three, Cass guessed, maybe four of them, tied together and strung from the main gate of the governor’s compound.

“Able,” North said, touching the man on the shoulder. Once Able was looking directly at him, he added, “Help me cut them down.” Able nodded, and together they scaled the gate.

Aron stepped forward and approached the citizens assembled on the other side. “Go on!” he shouted, waving the crowd away. “Ain’t you got any respect! Get outta here!”

“Rae,” Cass said, “would you mind taking Wren back inside?”

“Sure, Cass, I’ll look after him.” She didn’t look at Cass when she said it.

“Thank you.”

“Governor?” Rae said, playfully formal with a gentle smile. “Would you kindly escort me back to the hall?”

Wren nodded and started towards the main building, but paused and looked back over his shoulder. “Mama?”

“Yes…?” She managed to cut herself off before calling him sweetheart .

“I need to know who they are.”

“I know.”

He nodded and took Rae’s hand. Cass watched them until they got to the top of the stairs and disappeared through the front entrance. She could trust Rae… she was pretty sure she could trust Rae.

When she looked back at the gate, Aron had climbed up on a crossbar to help North and Able. The crowd was mostly gone, with the exception of two or three stragglers who continued to stare, but from a greater distance. A few guards lingered nearby, some keeping watch, some waiting to receive the bodies. Vye was on her knees with her hands in her lap, glassy-eyed and staring at the sunrise. Hondo paced back and forth, giving orders no one followed — while Connor, pale and glistening with a sickly sweat, just stood below with his hands held uselessly in the air as if helping by projection.

With great effort the three managed to lower the remains to the ground in as respectful a way as anyone could. Hondo stood over them with his arms crossed, shaking his head. Connor went completely white and gagged, and then wandered off to a nearby planter to vomit. Cass approached and helped the others separate the bodies as best they could and lay them out next to each other.

Aron swore softly to himself, started to say something else, then just repeated the oath again.

There were four. So marred she couldn’t identify who they were… who they’d been. Except for one. One she recognized, his body intact, his face untouched by flames. And not by accident.

She crouched next to him, smoothed back his hair, thick and tacky with blood. It was Luck. He had once been a Weir, like her. And like her, Wren had somehow brought him back. Restored his mind, though not his body. He was one of the Awakened.

And now, he was a message.

Wren sat on the end of the bed, too tired to cry anymore. He was empty. Totally and completely empty. He wanted to be sad. Wren knew he should be angry. He thought maybe he should be a little scared, too. But he didn’t feel any of those things. Luck was gone, and all Wren could feel was responsible. It’d been his fault. Not directly, of course, he knew that. But he also knew that somewhere along the way he’d made a decision, or maybe a series of decisions, that ended here, with another person that he cared about dead.

“I shouldn’t’ve luh-left him out th-th, out there,” Painter said. He was sitting in a chair by the door of Wren’s room. Or rather, of Cass’s room, where Wren was staying now.

“It’s not your fault, Painter,” Wren said. “Whatever happened, I don’t think you could’ve stopped it.”

Painter shook his head. “Luck smiled tuh-tuh… he smiled too much. Always trying to g-g-get people to like him. He p-p-p… probably didn’t even fight back.”

“I’m glad you were here, anyway. I’m glad you’re here now.”

Painter nodded, but he didn’t look at Wren. He was staring out through the flexiglass door that led to the balcony, out at the night sky. The moon had been up for a couple of hours. Wren hadn’t seen Mama since that morning.

“I just don’t understand,” Wren continued. “I don’t understand how anyone could do that to a person.”

“Because we’re not puh-people, Wren.”

Wren wanted to tell Painter he was wrong — tell him that he shouldn’t think of himself as anything other than a person. But whether it was because Wren was so tired, or maybe because he wasn’t sure he believed it himself, Wren found he couldn’t argue. If he had known this was how things were going to happen… it took so much effort, so much energy. It hurt him to wake them. If all it caused in the end was more pain, was it even worth it?

“Can I ask you something, Painter?” Wren asked.

Painter looked over to him. “Of course.”

“Are you sorry that I brought you back?”

Painter seemed to think about it for a moment, but Wren couldn’t read his expression. “Are you?”

“No.”

“Then me nnn-neither.”

“It’s just… it’s like when I made them let everyone inside the city. I thought it was the right thing to do. I didn’t know it was going to cause so much trouble.”

“That was the ruh-ruh-right thing, Wren. Trouble’s got nnnn…” Painter struggled with the word. He snapped his head to the side in frustration. “Nothing to do with it.”

“It’s harder for you, though.”

Painter shrugged and went back to looking outside. “They’re affff-fraid of us.”

“They shouldn’t be.”

“Yes, they should.” He said it quietly, almost to himself. The door clicked and whirred, and Painter stood up quickly to face it. Wren got to his feet as it was opening.

“Mama!”

Wren didn’t wait for her to get any further into the room before he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed his cheek into her stomach. Cass kissed him on the top of the head and placed her hands on his back, squeezing him against her legs in an awkward kind of hug.

“Hey, baby,” she said. She sounded exhausted. “Can I get in the door?”

Wren let go and backed up so she could enter the room. She closed the door behind her and then knelt down and held out her arms. “There, now let me get a proper hug.” Wren stepped into her embrace and hugged her neck. She squeezed him so tight it was almost hard for him to breathe.

“Painter,” Cass said. “Thanks so much for staying with him. Sorry it was so long.”

“It was no problem, Miss Cass. Anyt-t-t-, any time. Any news?”

Cass gave Wren a final squeeze and then stood up. She took off her veil and tossed it in the chair next to the door, then unbuckled her jacket. “Curfew’s in place, we’ve got a lot of extra enforcement on patrol.”

“What about…” Wren couldn’t bring himself to say the names. “…the bodies?”

“Turns out it was only two Awakened. Mez was the other.”

Mez had been among the first few of the Awakened, an older man who’d spent most of his time outside the wall. He’d never really settled into Morningside, and hadn’t kept much contact with Wren or Cass. Wren was still sorry for his death.

Cass said, “The others — we’re not sure about yet. It’s hard to get any information out of people after last night. What about you guys?”

Wren replied, “We’ve mostly been here. Just trying to stay out of the way.”

Cass nodded. “Probably the best idea right now. Painter, anything I can do for you?”

Painter shook his head. “Pretty tired. Think I’m just guh-guh-going to go to b-bed.”

“You’re up with the team?” she asked him.

Painter nodded.

“They treating you well?”

Painter nodded again. “When they’re around.”