Maude Ivory planted her wispy frame squarely in front of Lucy Gray. She scrunched her face and balled her hands into fists. “You get out of here, Billy Taupe. None of us want you anymore.”
Billy Taupe rocked slightly as he surveyed the group. “Less want than need, Maude Ivory.”
“Don’t need you neither. Go on and get. And take your weasel girl with you,” ordered Maude Ivory. Lucy Gray encircled her with her arm, pressing her hand against the little girl’s chest, either to soothe or restrain her.
“You’re all sounding thin. You’re sounding thin,” slurred Billy Taupe, and one hand slapped his instrument.
“We can do without you, Billy Taupe. You made your choice. Now leave us be,” said Barb Azure, her quiet voice underlaid with steel. Tam Amber said nothing but gave a small nod of assent.
Pain flashed across Billy Taupe’s face. “Is that how you feel, CC?”
Clerk Carmine curled his fiddle in close to his body.
Although the Covey varied in complexion, hair, and features, Coriolanus noticed a distinct resemblance between these two. Brothers, maybe?
“You can come with me. We’d do all right, we two,” Billy Taupe pleaded. But Clerk Carmine stood his ground. “All right, then. Don’t need you. Never needed any of you anyway. Never will. Always did better on my own.”
A couple of Peacekeepers began to close in on him. The one who’d given Lucy Gray the bottle of white liquor laid a hand on his arm. “Come on, now, show’s over.”
Billy Taupe jerked away from his touch and then gave him a drunken shove. In an instant, the sociable mood in the Hob changed. Coriolanus could feel the tension, sharp as a knife. Miners who’d either ignored him or given him nods over their bottles became belligerent. The Peacekeepers straightened up, suddenly alert, and he found his own body almost standing at attention. As a half dozen Peacekeepers moved in on Billy Taupe, he felt the miners surge forward. He was readying himself for the brawl that was sure to follow, when someone pulled the plug on the lights, sending the Hob into blackness.
Everything froze for an instant, then chaos erupted. A fist caught Coriolanus’s mouth, sending his own fists into action. He struck out arbitrarily, focused only on securing his own circle of safety. The same animal wildness he’d experienced when the tributes had hunted him down in the arena swept over him. Dr. Gaul’s voice echoed in his ears. “That’s mankind in its natural state. That’s humanity undressed.” And here was naked humanity again, and here again he was a part of it. Punching, kicking, his teeth bared in the darkness.
A horn outside the Hob blared repeatedly, and truck headlights flooded the area by the door. Whistles blew, and voices shouted for the dispersal of the crowd. People lurched toward the exit. Coriolanus fought the wave, trying to locate Lucy Gray, but then decided the best chance of finding her would be out front. He jostled his way through the bodies, still throwing the occasional punch, and spilled out into the night air, where the locals took flight and the Peacekeepers gathered in a loose bunch, making only a weak show of pursuit. Most of them had not even been on duty, and there was no organized unit to address the spontaneous eruption. In the dark, nobody was even sure who they’d been fighting. Better to let it lie. Coriolanus found it unnerving, though; unlike at the hanging, the miners had fought back.
Sucking on a split lip, he positioned himself to watch the door, but the last stragglers wandered out without any sign of Lucy Gray, the Covey, or even Billy Taupe. He felt frustrated at having been so close but unable to talk to her. Was there another exit to the Hob? Yes, he remembered a door by the stage, which must have allowed them to slip out. Mayfair Lipp had not been so fortunate. She stood flanked by Peacekeepers, not under arrest but not free to go either.
“I’ve done nothing wrong. You’ve no right to hold me,” she spat at the soldiers.
“Sorry, miss,” said a Peacekeeper. “For your own protection, we can’t let you go home alone. Either you let us escort you or we call your father for further instructions.”
The mention of her father shut Mayfair up but did not improve her attitude. She seethed, her lips pressed into a thin, mean line that said someone would pay, just give her time.
There did not seem to be much enthusiasm for the task of taking her home, and Coriolanus and Sejanus found themselves recruited for the job, either because they’d made a good showing at the hanging or because they were both relatively sober. Two officers and three other Peacekeepers made up the rest of the party. “At this hour, what with the climate, its probably better to be on the safe side,” one officer said. “It’s not far.”
As they wove through the streets, their boots grinding against the grit, Coriolanus squinted into the darkness. Streetlights illuminated the Capitol, but here he had to rely on the sporadic flickers from windows and the pale beams of the moon. Unarmed, without even the protection of his white uniform, he felt vulnerable and stuck close to the group. The officers had guns; hopefully, that would keep assailants at bay. He remembered the Grandma’am’s words. “Your own father used to say those people only drank water because it didn’t rain blood. You ignore that at your own peril, Coriolanus.” Were they out there now, watching and waiting for a chance to quench their thirst? He missed the safety of the base.
Fortunately, after only a few short blocks, the streets opened up onto a deserted square, which he realized was the location of the annual reaping. A few unevenly spaced floodlights helped him navigate the cobblestones under his feet.
“I can get home fine from here,” said Mayfair.
“We’re in no hurry,” one of the officers told her.
“Why don’t you just leave me alone?” snapped Mayfair.
“Why don’t you stop running around with that good-for-nothing?” suggested the officer. “Trust me, that won’t end well.”
“Oh, mind your own business,” she retorted.
They made a diagonal cross, left the square, and followed a freshly paved road to the next street over. The party drew to a halt at a large house that might count for a mansion in District 12 but would be unremarkable in the Capitol. Through the windows, wide open in the August heat, Coriolanus caught glimpses of well-lit, furnished rooms in which humming electric fans fluttered the curtains. His nose picked up a whiff of the evening’s dinner — ham, he thought — causing his mouth to water slightly and thinning out the bloody taste from his lip. Maybe it was just as well he’d missed Lucy Gray; his lips were in no shape for a kiss.
As one of the officers laid a hand on the gate, Mayfair pushed past him, darted up the path, and slipped into the house.
“Should we tell her parents?” asked the other.
“What’s the point?” said the first. “You know how the mayor is. Somehow her traipsing around at night will be our fault. I can do without a lecture.”
The other muttered agreement, and the party headed back across the square. As Coriolanus followed, a soft, mechanical wheeze caught his attention, and he turned to the shadowy bushes that lined the side of the house. He could just make out a figure standing motionless in the gloom, back pressed against the wall. A light on the second floor flipped on, and the yellow glow extending down revealed Billy Taupe, nose bloodied, scowling directly at him. He held his instrument, the source of the wheeze, against his chest.
Coriolanus’s lips parted to alert the others, but something held his tongue. What was it? Fear? Indifference? Uncertainty as to how Lucy Gray would react? The band had made their position clear when it came to his rival, and yet he didn’t know how they would take Coriolanus’s ratting him out, possibly landing him in jail. What if it made Billy Taupe a sympathetic character, someone they would rally around and forgive? He could tell that the Covey loyalties ran deep. Then again, perhaps they would welcome it? Particularly Lucy Gray, who might be very interested to know that her old flame had run to the mayor’s daughter’s house for solace. What had he done to be ousted from all things Covey, band and home? He remembered the final words to her song, her ballad, from the interview.
Too bad I’m the bet that you lost in the reaping.
Now what will you do when I go to my grave?
Surely, the answer lay there.
Mayfair appeared and closed the window. Then she drew the curtain, blocking the light and concealing Billy Taupe. The bushes rustled, and the moment had passed.
“Coryo?” Sejanus had returned for him. “You coming?”
“Sorry, just lost in thought,” said Coriolanus.
Sejanus nodded to the house. “It reminds me of the Capitol.”
“You don’t say home,” Coriolanus pointed out.
“No. For me, that will always be District Two,” Sejanus confirmed. “But it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see either place again.”
As they walked back, Coriolanus wondered about his own odds of seeing the Capitol again. Before Sejanus came, he’d thought they were zero. But if he could return as an officer, maybe even a war hero, things might be different. Of course, then he’d need a war to excel in, just as Sejanus needed one in order to be a medic.
Coriolanus’s shoulders relaxed when the gates of the base closed behind him. He washed his face and crawled into his bunk above Beanpole’s inebriated snores. His pulse beat in his swollen lip as he replayed the evening. It had all gone like a dream — seeing Lucy Gray, hearing her sing, her joy at the sight of him — until Billy Taupe had showed up and spoiled the reunion. It was just another reason to hate Billy Taupe, although seeing the Covey’s rejection of him was deeply satisfying. It confirmed that Lucy Gray belonged to him.
Sunday breakfast brought the bad news that, because of the previous evening’s altercation, no soldier was to leave the base alone. The higher-ups were even considering placing the Hob off-limits. Smiley, Bug, and Beanpole, although hungover and bruised from the night before, bemoaned the state of things, having nothing to look forward to if their Saturday outings were canceled. Sejanus only cared because Coriolanus cared, recognizing that this was just one more hurdle to seeing Lucy Gray.
“Maybe she’ll visit you here?” he suggested as they cleared their trays.
“Can she do that?” Coriolanus asked, but then hoped she wouldn’t, even if she could. He had little unscheduled time, and where would they even be allowed to talk? Through the fence? How would that be viewed? Caught up as he had been in the romance of the previous evening, he’d been planning to greet her publicly with a kiss, but in hindsight, that would’ve brought on a barrage of questions from his bunkmates, and doubtless raised a few eyebrows among the officers. Their whole history, including his forced enlistment, would come out, and with it his cheating in the Games. In addition, given the troubles between the locals and the Peacekeepers, it would be wise to keep the relationship private. Whispering through the fence might encourage rumors that he was a rebel sympathizer or, even worse, a spy. No, if they were going to meet, he would have to go to her. Secretly. Today would be a rare opportunity to track her down, but he’d need a buddy to leave the base.
“I think we’d better keep things between us a secret. She might get in trouble if she came here. Sejanus, did you have plans today, or —” he began.
“She lives in a place called the Seam,” said Sejanus. “Near the woods.”
“What?” said Coriolanus.
“I asked one of the miners last night. Very casually.” Sejanus smiled. “Don’t worry, he was too drunk to remember. And yes, I’d be happy to go with you.”
Sejanus told their bunkmates they were heading into town to see if they could swap a pack of Capitol chewing gum for letter paper, but the ruse proved unnecessary, as all the mates took their abused bodies back to their bunks right after breakfast. Coriolanus wished he had money for a gift of some kind, but he had nary a cent. As they passed the mess hall on the way out, his eyes fell on the ice machine, and he had an idea. In this hot weather, the soldiers were permitted to take the ice freely for their drinks, or to cool off. Rubbing cubes over their bodies provided a little relief in the sauna of a kitchen.
Cookie, who he’d won over with his diligent dish washing, gave Coriolanus an old plastic bag. The day being so hot, he agreed it would be all right to take some ice on their outing to ward off heatstroke. Coriolanus didn’t know if the Covey had a freezer, but by the looks of the houses he’d passed on his way to the hanging, he thought that might be a luxury few could afford. Anyway, the ice was free, and he didn’t want to go empty-handed.
They signed out at the gate, where the guard cautioned them to be careful, and walked off in what they remembered to be the general direction of the town square. Coriolanus felt apprehensive. With the mines shut down for the day, though, a hush lay over the district, and the few people they passed ignored them. Only a small bakery stood open in the town square, its doors propped wide to allow a breeze to temper the heat of the ovens. The owner, a beet-faced woman, had little interest in providing directions to nonpaying customers, so Sejanus bartered his fancy chewing gum for a loaf of bread. Relenting, she took them out on the square and pointed at the street they were to follow to the Seam.
Beyond the town center, the Seam sprawled out for miles, the regular streets quickly dissolving into a web of smaller, unmarked lanes that rose up and then petered out for no discernible reason. Some boasted rows of worn, identical houses; others had makeshift structures it would be generous to call shacks. Many homes were so shored up, patched up, or broken down that their original framework was nothing but a memory. Many others had been abandoned and scavenged for their parts.
With no grid, no landmark of note, Coriolanus lost his bearings almost immediately, and his unease returned. Once in a while, they’d pass someone sitting on their stoop or in the shade of their homes. None of them looked the least bit friendly. The only sociable creatures were the gnats, whose fascination with his injured lip required constant shooing. As the sun beat down on them, condensation from the melting bag of ice left a splotch on his pant leg. Coriolanus’s enthusiasm began dissolving as well. The intoxication he’d experienced the night before in the Hob, the heady mix of liquor and yearning, seemed like a feverish dream now. “Maybe this was a bad idea.”
“Really?” asked Sejanus. “I’m pretty sure we’re headed in the right direction. See the trees over there?”
Coriolanus made out a fringe of green in the distance. He trudged along thinking with fondness of his bunk and remembering that Sunday meant fried baloney and potatoes. Maybe he was not cut out to be a lover. Maybe he was more of a loner at heart. Coriolanus Snow, more loner than lover. One thing about Billy Taupe, he reeked of passionate feelings. Is that what Lucy Gray wanted? Passion, music, liquor, moonlight, and a wild boy who embraced them all? Not a perspiring Peacekeeper showing up at her door on a Sunday morning with a split lip and a sagging bag of ice.
He gave over the lead to Sejanus, following him up and down cinder paths without comment. Eventually, his companion would grow tired, and they could go back and catch up on their letter writing. Sejanus, Tigris, his friends, the faculty, all of them had been dead wrong about him. He’d never been motivated by love or ambition, only a desire to get his prize and a nice, quiet bureaucratic job pushing papers around and leaving him plenty of time to attend tea parties. Cowardly and . . . what had Dean Highbottom called her? Oh, yes, vapid. Vapid, like his mother. What a disappointment he’d have been to Crassus Xanthos Snow.
“Listen,” said Sejanus, catching his arm.
Coriolanus paused and lifted his head. A high-pitched voice pierced the morning air with a melancholy tune. Maude Ivory? They made for the source of the music. At the end of a path at the edge of the Seam, a small wooden house tilted at a precarious angle, like a tree in a stiff wind. The dirt patch of a front yard was deserted, so they picked their way around the clumps of wildflowers, in various states of bloom and decay, that appeared to have been transplanted without much rhyme or reason. When they reached the back of the house, they discovered Maude Ivory sitting on a makeshift stoop in an old dress two sizes too big for her. She was cracking nuts on a cinder block with a rock, beating time to her song.
“Oh, my darling” — crack — “Oh, my darling” — crack — “Oh, my darling, Clementine!” — crack. She looked up and grinned when she saw them. “I know you!” Brushing the stray nutshells from her frock, she ran into the house.
Coriolanus wiped his face on his sleeve, hoping his lip wouldn’t look too bad when Lucy Gray appeared. Instead Maude Ivory came out with a sleepy Barb Azure, who had twisted her hair up in a hasty knot. Like Maude Ivory, she’d changed her costume for a dress you might see on anyone in District 12. “Good morning,” she said. “You looking for Lucy Gray?”
“He’s her friend from the Capitol,” Maude Ivory reminded her. “The one who introduced her on the television, only he’s near bald now. He gave me the popcorn balls.”
“Well, we certainly enjoyed those and appreciate all you did for Lucy Gray,” said Barb Azure. “I expect you’ll find her down in the Meadow. That’s where she goes early to work, so as not to disturb the neighbors.”
“I’ll show you. Let me!” Maude Ivory hopped off the porch and took Coriolanus’s hand, as if they were old friends. “It’s this way.”
With no younger siblings or other relatives, Coriolanus had little experience with kids, but it made him feel special, the way she’d attached herself to him, the cool little hand pressed trustingly in his. “So, you saw me on the television?”
“Just the one night. It was clear and Tam Amber used a lot of foil. Usually, we can’t get anything but static, but it’s special we even have a television,” explained Maude Ivory. “Most don’t. Not that there’s much to watch but that boring old news anyway.”
Dr. Gaul could go on all she wanted about engaging people in the Hunger Games, but if practically no one in the districts had a working television, the impact would be confined to the reaping, when everyone gathered in public.
While they walked toward the woods, Maude Ivory rattled on about their show the night before and the fight that followed. “Sorry you got punched,” she said, pointing to his lip. “That’s Billy Taupe, though. Where he goes, trouble follows.”
“Is he your brother?” asked Sejanus.
“Oh, no, he’s a Clade. Him and Clerk Carmine are brothers. The rest of us are all Baird cousins. The girls, I mean. And Tam Amber’s a lost soul,” said Maude Ivory matter-of-factly.
So Lucy Gray didn’t have a monopoly on the strange manner of talking. It must be a Covey thing. “A lost soul?” asked Coriolanus.
“Sure. The Covey found Tam Amber when he was just a baby. Somebody left him in a cardboard box on the side of the road, so he’s ours. Joke’s on them, too, because he’s the finest picker alive,” Maude Ivory declared. “Not much of a talker, though. Is that ice?”
Coriolanus swung the diminishing clump of cubes. “What’s left of it.”
“Oh, Lucy Gray will like that. We’ve got a fridge, but the freezer’s long broke,” said Maude Ivory. “Seems fancy to have ice in summertime. Like flowers in wintertime. Rare.”
Coriolanus agreed. “My grandmother grows roses in winter. People make a big fuss over them.”
“Lucy Gray said you smelled like roses,” said Maude Ivory. “Is your whole house full of them?”
“She grows them on the roof,” Coriolanus told her.
“The roof?” giggled Maude Ivory. “That’s a silly place for flowers. Don’t they slide off?”
“It’s a flat roof, up very high. With lots of sunlight,” he said. “You can see the whole Capitol from there.”
“Lucy Gray didn’t like the Capitol. They tried to kill her,” said Maude Ivory.
“Yes,” he acknowledged. “It couldn’t have been very nice for her.”
“She said you were the only good thing about it, and now you’re here.” Maude Ivory gave his hand a tug. “You’re going to stay here, right?”
“That’s the plan,” said Coriolanus.
“I’m glad. I like you, and that will make her happy,” she said.
By this time, the three had reached the edge of a large field that dipped down to the woods. Unlike the weedy expanse in front of the hanging tree, this one had clean, fresh, high grass and swaths of bright wildflowers. “There she is, with Shamus.” Maude Ivory pointed to a lone figure on a rock. Wearing a dress of her namesake color, Lucy Gray sat with her back to them, her head bent over her guitar.
Shamus? Who was Shamus? Another member of the Covey? Or had he misread Billy Taupe’s role in her life, and Shamus was the lover? Coriolanus put a hand above his eyes to shield them from the sunlight but could make out only her figure. “Shamus?”
“She’s our goat. Don’t be fooled by the boy’s name; she can give a gallon a day when she’s fresh,” said Maude Ivory. “We’re trying to skim enough cream for butter, but it takes forever.”
“Oh, I love butter,” said Sejanus. “That reminds me, I forgot to give you this bread. Did you have your breakfast already?”
“It’s a fact, I didn’t,” said Maude Ivory, eyeing the loaf with interest.
Sejanus handed it over. “What do you say we head back to the house and break into this now?”
Maude Ivory tucked the bread under her arm. “What about Lucy Gray and this one?” she asked, nodding at Coriolanus.
“They can join us after they’ve caught up,” said Sejanus.
“Okay,” she agreed, transferring her hand to Sejanus’s. “Barb Azure might make us wait for them. You could help me shell nuts first, if you want. They’re last year’s, but nobody’s gotten sick yet.”
“Well, that’s the best offer I’ve had in a long time.” Sejanus turned to Coriolanus. “We’ll see you later?”
Coriolanus felt self-conscious. “Do I look okay?”
“Gorgeous. Trust me, that lip’s working for you, soldier,” said Sejanus, and he headed back toward the house with Maude Ivory.
Coriolanus gave his hair a swipe and waded into the Meadow. He’d never walked in such high grass, and the sensation of it tickling his fingertips added to his nervousness. It far exceeded his hopes, getting to meet up with her in private, in a flower-filled field, with the whole day ahead. Just the opposite of what the rushed encounter in the filthy Hob would’ve been. This was, for lack of a better word, romantic. He moved forward as quietly as possible. As a rule, she mystified him, and he welcomed the chance to observe her without her usual defenses in place.
Drawing close, he took in the song she sang as she quietly strummed her guitar.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man they say murdered three?
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
He didn’t recognize it, but it brought to mind the hanging of the rebel two days before. Had she been there? Had it prompted this?
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where the dead man called out for his love to flee?
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.
Ah, yes. It was Arlo’s hanging, because where else would a dead man call out for his love to flee? “Run! Run, Lil! Ru — !” You’d need those unnatural mockingjays for that. But who was she inviting to meet her in the tree? Could it be him? Maybe she planned to sing this next Saturday as a secret message for him to meet her at midnight in the hanging tree? Not that he could, as he’d never be allowed off base at that hour. But she probably didn’t know that.
Lucy Gray hummed now, testing out different chords behind the melody, while he admired the curve of her neck, the fineness of her skin. As he drew nearer, his foot landed on an old branch, which broke with a sharp snap. She sprang from the rock, twisting her body as she rose, her eyes wide with fear and the guitar held out as if to block a blow. For a moment, he thought she’d flee, but her alarm shifted to relief at the sight of him. She shook her head, as close as he’d ever seen her to embarrassed, as she propped her guitar against the rock. “Sorry. Still got one foot in the arena.”
If his brief foray in the Games had left him nervous and nightmarish, he could only imagine how damaged she was. The last month had upended their lives and changed them irrevocably. Sad, really, as they were both rather exceptional people, for whom the world had reserved its harshest treatment.
“Yes, it leaves quite an impression,” he said. They stood for a moment, drinking each other in, before they moved together. The bag of ice slid from his hand as she wrapped her arms around him, melting her body into his. He locked her in an embrace, remembering how scared he’d been for her, for himself, and how he hadn’t dared fantasize about this moment as it had seemed so unattainable. But here they were, safe in a beautiful meadow. Two thousand miles away from the arena. Awash in daylight, but none between them.
“You found me,” she said.
In District 12? In Panem? In the world itself? Never mind, it didn’t matter. “You knew I would.”
“Hoped you would. Didn’t know. The odds didn’t seem in my favor.” She leaned back enough to free a hand and brushed his lips with her fingers. He felt the calluses from her guitar strings, the soft surrounding skin, as she examined the previous night’s injury. Then, almost shyly, she kissed him, sending shock waves through his body. Ignoring the pain in his lips, he responded, hungry and curious, every nerve in his body awake. He kissed her until his lip started to bleed a little, and would have kept going had she not pulled away.
“Here,” she said. “Come in the shade.”
The remaining ice cracked under his foot, and he retrieved it. “For you.”
“Why thank you.” Lucy Gray drew him over to sit at the base of the rock. Taking the bag, she bit off a corner of the plastic to make a tiny hole and lifted it high to let the melted ice water drip into her mouth. “Ah. This must be the only cold thing this side of November.” Her hand squeezed the bag, sending a light spray over her face. “It’s wonderful; lean back.” He tilted his head back and felt the stuff drizzle over his lips, licking it off just in time for another long kiss. Then she drew up her knees and said, “So, Coriolanus Snow, what are you doing in my meadow?”
What, indeed? “Just spending some time with my girl,” he answered.
“I can hardly believe it.” Lucy Gray surveyed the Meadow. “Nothing since the reaping has seemed very real. And the Games were just a nightmare.”
“For me, too,” he said. “But I want to hear what happened to you. Off camera.”
They sat side by side, shoulders, ribs, hips pressed together, hands entwined, exchanging stories as they shared the ice water. Lucy Gray began with an account of the opening days of the Games, when she’d hidden with a progressively more rabid Jessup. “We kept moving from spot to spot in those tunnels. It’s like a maze down there. And poor Jessup getting sicker and crazier by the minute. That first night, we bedded down near the entrance. That was you, wasn’t it? Who came to move Marcus?”
“It was me and Sejanus. He snuck in to . . . well, I’m not even sure what, to make some sort of statement. They sent me in to retrieve him,” Coriolanus explained.
“Was it you killed Bobbin?” she asked quietly.
He nodded. “Didn’t have a choice. And then three of the others tried to kill me.”
Her face darkened. “I know. I could hear them boasting when they came back from the turnstiles. I thought you might be dead. Scared me, the thought of losing you. I didn’t draw breath until you sent in the water.”
“Then you know what every moment was like for me,” Coriolanus said. “You were all I could think about.”
“You, too.” She flexed her fingers. “I clutched that compact so hard you could see the imprint of the rose on my palm.”
He caught her hand and kissed the palm. “I wanted so badly to help, and I felt so useless.”
She caressed his cheek. “Oh, no. I could feel you looking out for me. With the water, and the food, and believe me, taking out Bobbin was major, even though I know it must have been awful for you. It sure was for me.” Lucy Gray admitted to three of her own kills. First Wovey, although that had not been targeted. She’d merely positioned a bottle of water with a few swallows and a bit of powder as if it had been dropped accidentally in the tunnels, and Wovey had been the one to find it. “I was gunning for Coral.” She claimed Reaper, whose puddle she’d poisoned, had contracted rabies when Jessup spat in his eye in the zoo. “So that was really a mercy killing. I spared him what Jessup went through. And taking out Treech with that viper was self-defense. Still not sure why those snakes loved me so. Not convinced it was my singing. Snakes don’t even hear well.”
So he told her. About the lab, and Clemensia, and Dr. Gaul’s plan to release the snakes into the arena, and how he’d secretly dropped his handkerchief, his father’s handkerchief, into the tank so they could become accustomed to her scent. “But they found it, loaded with DNA from both of us.”
“And that’s why you’re here? Not the rat poison in the compact?” she asked.
“Yes,” he said. “You covered beautifully for me on that one.”
“Did my best.” She considered things for a minute. “Well, that’s it, then. I saved you from the fire, and you saved me from the snakes. We’re responsible for each other’s lives now.”
“Are we?” he asked.
“Sure,” she said. “You’re mine and I’m yours. It’s written in the stars.”
“No escaping that.” He leaned over and kissed her, flushed with happiness, because although he did not believe in celestial writings, she did, and that would be enough to guarantee her loyalty. Not that his own loyalty was in question. If he hadn’t fallen in love with any of the girls in the Capitol, it was unlikely District 12 could offer much else in the way of temptation.
A strange sensation at his neck called for attention, and he found Shamus sampling his collar. “Oh, hello. Can I help you, madam?”
Lucy Gray laughed. “Happens you can, if you’ve a mind to. She needs milking.”
“Milking. Hm. I’m not sure where to begin,” he said.
“With a bucket. Up at the house.” She squirted a bit of ice water in Shamus’s direction, and the goat released the collar. Tearing the bag, she took out the last couple of cubes, popping one in Coriolanus’s mouth and one in her own. “Sure is nice to have ice this time of year. A luxury in summer and a curse in winter.”
“Can’t you just ignore it?” asked Coriolanus.
“Not around here. In January, our pipes froze, and we had to melt down ice chunks for water on the stove. For six people and a goat? You’d be surprised how much work that takes. It was better once the snow came; that melts pretty quick.” Lucy Gray took Shamus’s lead rope and picked up her guitar.
“I got it.” Coriolanus reached for the instrument. Then he wondered if she trusted him with it.
Lucy Gray easily handed it over. “Not as nice as the one Pluribus loaned us, but it pays for our keep. Only thing is, we’re running low on strings, and the homemade ones don’t cut it. Do you think, if I wrote to him, he could send me a few? I bet he has some leftover from when he ran his club. I can pay. I’ve still got most of the money Dean Highbottom gave me.”
Coriolanus stopped in his tracks. “Dean Highbottom? Dean Highbottom gave you money?”
“He did, but it was kind of on the quiet. First, he apologized for what I’d been through, then he stuffed a wad of cash into my pocket. Glad to have it. The Covey didn’t perform while I was gone. Too shook up over losing me,” she said. “Anyway, I can pay for those strings if he’s of a mind to help.”
Coriolanus promised to ask in his next letter, but the news of Dean Highbottom’s covert generosity threw him. Why would evil incarnate help his girlfriend? Respect? Pity? Guilt? Morphling-induced whimsy? He mulled it over as they made their way to her front porch, where she hitched Shamus to a post.
“Come on in. Meet the family.” Lucy Gray took his hand and led him to the door. “How’s Tigris? I sure wish I could’ve thanked her in person for the soap and my dress. Now that I’m home, I mean to send her a letter, and maybe a song if I come up with something good enough.”
“She’d like that,” said Coriolanus. “Things aren’t going so well at home.”
“I’m sure they miss you. Is it more than that?” she asked.
Before he could answer, they’d entered the house. It consisted of one large, open room and what seemed to be a sleeping area up in a loft. Along the back, a coal stove, a sink, a shelf of dishware, and an ancient refrigerator designated the kitchen. A rack of costumes lined the right wall, their collection of instruments the left. An old television with an oversized antenna that branched out like antlers, rigged with twisted pieces of aluminum foil, sat on a crate. Other than some chairs and a table, the place was bare of furniture.
Tam Amber leaned back in one of the chairs, holding his mandolin on his lap but not playing. Clerk Carmine hung his head off the loft, gazing unhappily at Barb Azure and Maude Ivory, who seemed to have worked herself into a state of indignation. At the sight of them, she shot across the floor and started pulling Lucy Gray toward the window that looked out over the backyard. “Lucy Gray, he’s making trouble again!”
“You let him in?” Lucy Gray asked, seeming to know who she meant.
“No. Said he just wanted the rest of his stuff. We threw it out back,” said Barb Azure, her arms crossed in disapproval.
“So, what’s the problem?” Lucy Gray spoke calmly, but Coriolanus could feel her grip tighten.
“That,” said Barb Azure, nodding out the back window.
Still in tow, Coriolanus followed Lucy Gray and looked into the backyard. Maude Ivory wriggled in between them. “Sejanus is supposed to be helping me with the nuts.”
Billy Taupe knelt on the ground, a pile of clothes and a few books beside him. He was talking rapidly as he scraped out some kind of picture in the dirt. Periodically, he’d gesture, pointing this way and that. Across from him, down on one knee, Sejanus listened intently, nodding in understanding and occasionally throwing in a question. While the sight of Billy Taupe in what he now considered his territory annoyed him, Coriolanus did not see much cause for concern. He could not imagine what he and Sejanus had to discuss. Perhaps they’d found some mutual grievance — like how their families didn’t understand them — to whine about?
“Are you worried about Sejanus? He’s fine. He talks to anybody.” Coriolanus tried but failed to make out Billy Taupe’s picture in the dirt. “What’s he drawing?”
“Looks like he’s giving some sort of directions,” said Barb Azure, relieving him of the guitar. “And if I’m right, your friend needs to go home.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Lucy Gray started to release Coriolanus’s hand, but he hung on. “Thanks, but you don’t have to deal with all my baggage.”
“It’s in the stars, I guess,” Coriolanus said with a smile. It was time anyway that he confronted Billy Taupe and laid down a few rules. Billy Taupe had to accept that Lucy Gray was no longer his, but belonged firmly, and for always, to Coriolanus.
Lucy Gray didn’t answer, but she stopped trying to free her hand. As they walked quietly through the open back door, the brightness of the August sun, now climbing high in the sky, made him squint. So engrossed was the pair that it was not until he and Lucy Gray stood directly over them that Billy Taupe reacted, swiping the picture from the dirt with his hand.
Without Barb Azure’s tip-off, Coriolanus might have been clueless, but as it was, he recognized the image almost immediately. It was a map of the base.
