The Fandom(64)

‘They’re not back-ups, they’re people.’ I wipe my face, the anger returning. ‘You should have told someone about this, someone who could help.’

‘Violet, sometimes it really is like you’re from a different planet. If I speak up about this, you can guarantee I’ll wind up dead in some alley, or dancing on those gallows. And then who would help Ma? Who would bring back the Gem coins for food? I’ve got to put my family first.’

‘So why did you show me this?’

He looks sad for a moment. Remorseful. ‘I – I wanted you to know what the Gems are truly like. The lengths they’ll go to in their quest for perfection.’ Unexpectedly, he wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me in really close, so my face rests on his shoulder. The scent of sweat and soap stills my pulse, and for a moment, I feel OK again. When he speaks, I feel his breath in my ear. It doesn’t tickle like Willow’s did, it just feels amazing. ‘And I just had to tell someone – it felt like a weight inside me, the secret, that is. You’re the first person I’ve ever really trusted.’

I begin to cry again. And not just because of those dead-eyed, floating Duplicates, or because of the empty space where almost-Willow’s legs should be, or the missing heart beneath that fine, red scar. But because Ash will only ever know almost-Violet, the Duplicate, the player.

He will never know the real me.





I roll on to my bunk. The sun is rising and I need to sleep. I only hope my dreams allow me to escape the glassy, dead eyes of the Duplicates.

Tonight is a big night. The turning point, the midway twist. Willow must declare his love to me, and I must tell him that I love him but I’m returning to the city – the mercy-dump, as Alice put it. I’m just about to let my eyes close when Matthew and Saskia duck under the mangy cotton divider, leaning on the end of my bunk and destroying any hope of privacy or rest.

‘Come on, sleepyhead, we’ve got a job for you,’ Matthew says.

I sit up, blinking heavily. ‘What?’ This wasn’t in canon. Rose slept today, I’m sure of it. I think I may cry, I’m so tired.

Saskia smiles at my discomfort. ‘While you were out canoodling with Gem boy, I’ve had me ear to the ground. Word is, he’s got another date with that pretty bit of fluff from the ball.’

I don’t tell her the pretty bit of fluff is Alice. They obviously haven’t communicated with Thorn since we left headquarters, and I’m just too ashamed to admit my best friend might still sabotage the mission, intentionally or otherwise.

‘He’s taking her into town for a bit of shopping,’ Matthew says.

This definitely wasn’t in canon. The anger from my argument with Alice returns. She’s risking everything just so she can live out her fanfic fantasies, taking us further and further from the story. Further from home. I get this sick feeling in my stomach because deep down, I know I’m partly to blame – I should never have gone to the bunker with Ash, I should never have let that butterfly flap its bastard wings.

Saskia looks a little smug. ‘If you want to convince that Gem-brat to give up Daddy’s secrets, you better be the only girl he wants to . . .’ She makes an obscene gesture with her hands. Matthew bursts out laughing.

‘So what do you want me to do?’ I ask.

‘You can work at the market today,’ Saskia replies. ‘You and Nate.’

Matthew nods. ‘The Gems love to visit the market, makes ’em feel all superior, watching us Imps toil. Just make sure you remind him who he really wants.’

We travel on an Imp-bus through the market town. This set wasn’t in canon, so I see the sleek lines of the Gem town – forged from glass and steel – for the first time. They look like an artist’s impression of the future; all airbrushed and clean. Already, scents of garlic and caramel weave towards us as the restaurants prepare for lunch. I see Gems through the smeared panes of the bus, strolling by, making small talk, or stopping to absorb the window displays, tilting their chins and revealing their CGI-perfect profiles.

Without permission, my eyes dart up and down the boulevard, seeking a glimpse of Alice, her hand wrapped in Willow’s. But I can only see the signs which adorn every shop window, every restaurant door. A picture of an ape trapped behind a diagonal red line. No Imps allowed. My tongue sticks to my teeth as a stream of anger passes through me. They’re the animals, not us. They’re the ones that chop up their siblings, their children, all in the name of perfection.

We follow the curve of the boulevard, which eventually leads into a market square. This must be the old part of town, where the glass and steel is yet to reach. The stone facades of the modernized Imp buildings surround us, and fixed to a nearby wall, I see a large sign boasting a picture of an ape. I’m guessing it’s a warning that we’ve entered a mixed zone. My muscles tighten and I feel a bit like a jack-in-the-box.

Nate sighs. ‘It’s no fun being the ape, is it?’

I consider telling him about the Duplicates from last night, but I promised Ash I wouldn’t tell a soul, and I don’t want to burden Nate with it. So instead, I just say, ‘No fun at all.’

We file off the bus and join the throng. Imps move gracelessly between the stone pillars which demarcate the individual stalls, buying and selling goods for their Gem masters. There’s this wonderful smell of cooked meats and spices, and bright splashes of colour as spools of yarn turn in the breeze. The Gems stand out immediately. Tall, lean and self-important. Mostly soldiers, their rifles on display, but the occasional Gem civilian glides past, chin raised like a bad smell fills their nostrils, like we’re nothing more than animals. I twist my fingers together as though I can wring the anger from my body.