Total pages in book: 210
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 200837 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1004(@200wpm)___ 803(@250wpm)___ 669(@300wpm)
I don’t know how to process the death of Aldo. It’s even worse than when I found out my own father died because I didn’t understand death back then. I didn’t understand fear, either.
But these days, after all the bell ringing from that fucking tower, and all those Maidens in the line-up before me, missing—I know what loss is. I know what fear is.
And I know, in my heart, that the death of Aldo is the end of something. The end of… a reprieve, maybe. Because my life was so busy, and so full, and so cluttered with growing up and the Extraction that I didn’t have time to think about the loss. I didn’t have time to be afraid. There was a buffer around me and that buffer was Aldo.
Now he’s gone and the harsh reality that was put on hold back when my mother died suddenly restarts and it’s time now to face the truth. Everything that’s happened to me in the past fifteen years suddenly catches up in a single moment. The death of my mother, the death of my father, my Choosing, my friends, the bells, the tower, the god.
And now this. Another loss.
The black tunnel vision fades and I begin to scream. Incoherent sentences start flowing out of my mouth, punctuated with swear words. Jeyk and Mitchell are holding me now, trying to calm me down, and then, out of nowhere, it seems, Matrons appear. A whole group of them yelling at me to be quiet as people come out of the event center, trying to figure out what is happening.
One of the Matrons leans into my ear and growls her words out. “Shut up, you stupid girl. Shut your mouth before you disrupt the entire city!”
And this is when I realize that the woman telling me this is Matron Bell. The pretty girl’s aunt, or whatever. And I realize… she did pull strings for Jasina Bell. She did do this. The next thing I know, I slap her across the face.
Time slows down for me again and out of my fingers slides the cyan-blue light of spark. It makes a perfect handprint on her thick, wrinkled cheek and Matron Bell’s facial expression changes as the realization sinks in that I just struck her.
Not only that, I assaulted her with spark.
Time suddenly speeds up again and she’s about to slap me back, her hand in mid-air, when I’m saved by the ringing of the tower bells.
I blink. Then my mouth drops open.
Then someone else is yelling.
I whirl around and find Haryet, eyes cast up—looking at those fucking tower bells—screaming.
Because the god has just summoned her into his tower.
And this means I am next.
I am next.
CHAPTER EIGHT
When the god in the tower rings the bells, the bells ring until that massive black door opens and the Maiden walks through. Then, and only then, will the people be free from the constant stress of being reminded that there is a god living inside the monstrous building at the top of our city who controls our fortunes and future through the power of spark.
The Maidens are a sacrifice. We train them up to display the spark inside them to their highest possible level. Then we choose the strongest one and give her to the god in the tower so he can… use her? Eat her? Kill her? No one knows what happens to the Spark Maidens in the tower, but we do know that it’s a tradeoff.
In exchange for a woman, the god provides spark, and spark is what powers our city.
We all know this on some level. Even if the truth is buried deep down in the darkest corners of our minds.
But, then again, maybe not.
The people in Tau City are good. They are honest, and hardworking, and trustworthy. So if the Extraction Committee tells them that the sacrifice is really just a Maiden called in for duty, the way a clerk or a maid might be called in to file records or clean bathrooms—neither of which are particularly desirable jobs, but it’s just a job, after all—well, the good, honest, hardworking, trustworthy people of Tau City believe them.
But it’s a lie and they are nothing but naïve.
And now look, those fucking bells are ringing—again. For the eighth time in a single decade. Like that fucking god, who has an insatiable appetite for beautiful, young, spark-filled women, realizes he’s getting old, his power is waning, his youth is behind him, and he wants to use up as many girls as he can on his way out.
Which is what this means, this ringing of these fucking bells.
It means that this arrangement is over.
The god is dying.
Oh, it will take some time, so I am told. It will be another decade of sacrifices. That’s why my father bothered with the next generation of Little Sisters.