Geminae: The Blood of the Serpent | Book One

Ai | One

AI's POV

First rule of Outside survival is 'do not wander in the dark'.

For as long as I can remember; according to history known; for the last few hundred years; Outside has been a brutal place forgotten by the living. Night time here especially.

It's full of crazy people. Those who'd kill you and eat you in a heartbeat, or those who'd sell you, heart still beating, to the leechers.

Everybody knows this, beyond the Wall. It's the last thing they warn you about as you're leaving a major city, to risk travelling between the mets. It's written on all the doors and escape exits in every bar and brawler out here.

Yet, I'm about to break this rule, again.

The thought of it leaves me light-headed and dry mouthed, unable to sit still or sleep anymore. There's a flutter inside my chest like a trapped bird. I'm caught up in anticipation of going out after curfew to do something I shouldn't, and an all-consuming fear of being ripped to shreds.

From our window we're high enough to have a clear view in all directions. But with the dying light, it's difficult to make out even the streets below. I lean forward, pressing my forehead and nose tip to the cold, dirty glass - the only divide separating me from the terror - to take a closer look.

There's ground dust coating every surface and cracks run up sides making monstrous shapes in the twilight. Buildings close to ours have become imposing giants and alleyways are endless. It's tempting to stay inside and huddle closer to Cal for warmth, burning our last candle down to the stub, until I drift to sleep.

It will be safer at dawn. In daylight.

Snug at my wrist, my bio-stat beeps. I stand for a few more minutes, listening to it beep one too many times, before turning it off. I take a copy of the reading, as I do every day, and send it to Kaz our resident medic.

Then, against better judgment, I get dressed.

Sitting around and waiting for others to protect me isn't a preferred option.

The air is icy and painful, for a few moments, as I finish buttoning my shirt. With trembling hands, I grab my jacket and hoodie from the rear of the chair and shove my hair, what's left, under a baseball cap. As an afterthought, I slip the bio-stat monitor into a bottom drawer, out of sight.

My stats are lower than normal, which means I'm due a checkup, meds and special restrictions for the next few weeks.

Yeah, scratch that.

Cal sits up, watching me with sudden interest from the bed. His green eyes blurred. Copped, brown hair matted from sleep. He has another bank of late shifts so he's been sleeping during the day, a lot. Not that I mind, but there are times when I've missed him lately.

"You're going out? Isn't it getting late? It'll be dark soon." There's a hint of concern in his tone, but his expression is even, bored almost. What can I say; the boy has an immaculate poker face.

"Daemon wants to see me."

I don't glance up but carry on with what I'm doing, packing the essentials; flask of rainwater, neon yellow flint lighter, foils, flashlight, knives and firearms. The usual.

I'm not the best fighter but I'd rather have a weapon. The smallest thing could save your life.

Or stop you from dying too easily.

The pocket blade is a small flip one - with a carved-bone handle - I traded the length of my hair for last year. I slip this into my jacket pocket. And a taser as guns tend to be useless. I secure the zips - pickpockets are rife on the main strip - and sling the small pack over my shoulders, tightening the straps.