CHAPTER 20
Coriolanus squeezed his hands into fists, unsure of the vipers’ intentions. The snakes in the tank, having been exposed to his scent on the proposal, had entirely ignored him. But these seemed magnetically drawn to his tribute. Could it be that the environment made the difference? Violently released from the warm, close quarters of their tank into the vast, unsheltered arena, were they seeking her out as the only familiar scent they could find? Had they gravitated to her to harbor in the safety of her skirt?
Lucy Gray knew nothing of this, because that day in the zoo when he’d meant to tell her about Clemensia and the snakes, her circumstances had been so much worse than his own that he’d kept silent on the subject. Even if he had told her, it would be a real leap of faith in his abilities to imagine he’d found a way to tamper with the snakes in the Games. What did she think was keeping them in check? It had to be her singing. Had she sung to the snakes at home? “That snake was a particular friend of mine,” she’d told the little girl in the zoo. Perhaps she’d befriended several snakes back in District 12. Perhaps she thought if she stopped singing, they would indeed kill her now. Perhaps this was her swan song. She would never want to go out without a finale. She would want to die with her boots on, in the brightest spotlight she could find.
When Lucy Gray began the lyrics, her voice was soft but clear as a bell.
You’re headed for heaven,
The sweet old hereafter,
And I’ve got one foot in the door.
But before I can fly up,
I’ve loose ends to tie up,
Right here in The old therebefore.
An old song, Coriolanus thought. With talk of the hereafter, which reminded him of Sejanus and his bread crumbs, but also that funny line about the therebefore. That must mean the present. Here. Now. While she was still alive.
I’ll be along
When I’ve finished my song,
When I’ve shut down the band,
When I’ve played out my hand,
When I’ve paid all my debts,
When I have no regrets,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The Gamemakers cut to a longer shot, which made Coriolanus want to shout an objection until he realized why. Every snake in the arena appeared to have fallen subject to her siren’s song and flocked to her. Even those in the nest under Teslee, who was ready prey, had abandoned their target and made for Lucy Gray. Still shuddering from the trauma, Teslee slid shakily to the ground and hobbled over to a chain-link fence on one section of the barricade. She climbed her way to a safe height while the song continued.
I’ll catch you up
When I’ve emptied my cup,
When I’ve worn out my friends,
When I’ve burned out both ends,
When I’ve cried all my tears,
When I’ve conquered my fears,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The camera made its way back to a tight shot of Lucy Gray. Coriolanus had the feeling that she usually catered to an audience well plied with liquor. In the days before her interview, he’d listened to many a number that conjured up a drunken group waving tin cups of gin from side to side in some dive bar. Although the liquor didn’t seem essential, because when he took a quick look over his shoulder, he saw that several people in Heavensbee Hall had begun to sway to her rhythm. Her voice rose in volume, echoing around the arena . . .
I’ll bring the news
When I’ve danced off my shoes,
When my body’s closed down,
When my boat’s run aground,
When I’ve tallied the score,
And I’m flat on the floor,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore
. . . and then reaching a crescendo as she brought it home.
When I’m pure like a dove,
When I’ve learned how to love,
Right here in
The old therebefore,
When nothing
Is left anymore.
The last note hung in the air while the audience held its collective breath. The snakes waited for it to fade, and then — or was it his imagination? — began to stir. Lucy Gray responded by softly humming, as if to a restless baby. The viewers quietly relaxed as the snakes relaxed around her.
Lucky looked as spellbound as the snakes when the cameras cut back to him, eyes a bit glazed, mouth slackly open. He snapped back when he saw his own image on the feed, and turned his attention to a stone-faced Dr. Gaul. “Well, Head Gamemaker, take . . . a . . . bow!”
Heavensbee Hall erupted into a standing ovation, but Coriolanus could not peel his eyes off Dr. Gaul. What was going on behind that inscrutable expression? Did she attribute the snakes’ behavior to Lucy Gray’s singing, or did she suspect foul play? Even if Dr. Gaul knew about the handkerchief, perhaps she would forgive him, as the result had been so dramatic.
Dr. Gaul allowed herself a small nod of acknowledgment. “Thank you. But the focus today should be not on me, but on Gaius Breen. Perhaps his classmates might share some remembrances with us.”
Lepidus leaped into action in Heavensbee Hall, collecting stories from Gaius’s classmates. It was well that Dr. Gaul had given him a heads-up, because while everybody had a joke or a funny story to share, only Coriolanus managed to tie in the heroic loss, the snakes, and the retribution they had witnessed in the arena. “We could never let the death of such a stellar youth of the Capitol go without repercussions. When hit, we hit back twice as hard, just as Dr. Gaul has mentioned in the past.”
Lepidus tried to turn the conversation to Lucy Gray’s extra-ordinary performance with the snakes, but Coriolanus only said, “She’s remarkable. But Dr. Gaul is right. This moment belongs to Gaius. Let’s save Lucy Gray for tomorrow.”
After a full half hour of remembrance, Lepidus bid the show’s adieus to Festus and Io, as Coral and Circ had succumbed to venom. Coriolanus gave Festus a bear hug, surprisingly emotional at seeing his reliable friend leave the dais. He felt the loss of Io as well, since she veered more toward clinical than combative, which was more than he could say for the others remaining. Except perhaps Persephone, who he decided to share his supper hour with. Cannibals over cutthroats.
The student body went home, leaving the handful of active mentors to their steak dinners. Coriolanus glanced around at his competitors. Being in the final five, he should have been flying high. But if one of the others won, Dean Highbottom could still give him a prize that was insufficient to pay for university, perhaps citing the demerit as his reason. Only the Plinth Prize would truly protect him.
He shifted his focus to the screen, where Lucy Gray continued to hum to her pets, Teslee disappeared behind the barricade, and Mizzen, Treech, and Reaper held their lofty positions. Clouds rolled in, portending a storm and creating a dazzling sunset. The bad weather brought a quick nightfall, and he had not yet finished his pudding when Lucy Gray faded from view, and a deep rumble of thunder shook the arena. He hoped for lightning to provide some illumination, but the heavy downpour that followed made the night impenetrable.
Coriolanus decided to sleep in Heavensbee Hall, as did the other four remaining mentors. No one except Vipsania had thought to bring bedding, so the rest arranged themselves in the padded chairs, propping up their feet and using book bags as makeshift pillows. As the rainy night cooled the hall, Coriolanus dozed in his chair, one eye half-open for any activity on the screen. The storm obscured all, and eventually he drifted off. Near dawn, he woke with a start and looked around. Vipsania, Urban, and Persephone slept soundly. From a few yards away, Clemensia’s large dark eyes shone in the dim light.
He did not want to be her enemy. If the Snow fortress was about to fall, he would need friends. Until the snake incident, he’d counted Clemensia among his best. And she’d always gotten on well with Tigris, too. But how to make amends?
Clemensia had one hand tucked inside her shirt, where she fingered the collarbone she’d presented in the hospital. The one covered in scales.
“Did they go away?” he whispered.
Clemensia tensed. “They’re fading. Finally. They said it may take as long as a year.”
“Are they painful?” It was the first time the idea had occurred to him.
“Not painful. They pull. On my skin.” She rubbed the scales. “It’s hard to explain.”
Heartened by the confidence, he took the plunge. “I’m sorry, Clemmie. Really. About all of it.”
“You didn’t know what she had planned,” said Clemensia.
“No, I didn’t. But after, in the hospital, I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve broken down the doors to make sure you were okay,” he insisted.
“Yes!” she said emphatically, but she seemed to relent a little. “But I know you were hurt, too. In the arena.”
“Oh, don’t make excuses for me.” He threw up his hands. “I’m worthless and we both know it!”
A hint of a smile. “Almost. I guess I should thank you for keeping me from making a complete fool of myself today.”
“Did I?” He squinted as if trying to recall. “All I remember is clinging to you. Not necessarily hiding behind you. But there was definitely clinging.”
She laughed a little but then became serious. “I shouldn’t have blamed so much on you. I’m sorry. I was terrified.”
“With good reason. I wish you hadn’t had to watch that today,” he said.
“Maybe it was cathartic. I feel better somehow,” she confessed. “Am I terrible?”
“No,” he said. “The only thing you are is brave.”
And so their friendship was shakily renewed. They let the others sleep while they shared the last cheese tart in Coriolanus’s stash, talking of this and that and even rolling around the idea of trying to set up an alliance between Lucy Gray and Reaper in the arena. Since it seemed out of their control, they abandoned it. The two would pair up together or they would not.
“At least we’re allies again,” he said.
“Well, not enemies anyway,” Clemensia allowed. But when they went to wash their faces for the cameras, she loaned him her soap so he wouldn’t have to use the abrasive liquid goop in the bathrooms, and somehow the small but intimate gesture let him know he was forgiven.
No breakfast was provided, but Festus came in early to pass out egg sandwiches and apples in the spirit of camaraderie. Persephone beamed at him over her teacup. Now that Clemensia had lightened up, Coriolanus didn’t feel as threatened by the mentor pool. They all wanted to win, but that was largely in their tributes’ hands. He assessed Lucy Gray’s competitors. Teslee, small and brainy. Mizzen, deadly but injured. Treech, athletic but still something of an unknown. Reaper, too strange for words.
The last of the clouds rolled out with the sunrise. Dead snakes littered the arena, draped over rubble, floating in puddles. Drowned, perhaps, or unable to survive the cold, wet night. Some genetically engineered creatures didn’t do well outside the lab. Lucy Gray and Teslee were nowhere to be seen, but the three boys in soggy clothes hadn’t ventured down from the heights. Mizzen was sleeping, his body belted to the beam. As the other students filed into Heavensbee Hall, Vipsania and Clemensia, who seemed almost normal, sent food to their tributes.