by T. C. Edge
I grab the next, expecting to see Brie Melrose, my eyes half a blur as they take in the name.
A frown settles over my eyes.
Emily Merchant.
Huh…
I check again. I must have missed one, must have missed my file.
No, there’s nothing there. Medvedev to Merchant, with no Melrose in between.
Did she file me under ‘Brie’ instead?
I look to the Bs, pulling out another box that lists the first 8 letters of the alphabet. I work towards the Bs, but again find no file with my name on it.
What’s going on?
There’s no file for me. No records at all. It’s as if I don’t even exist…
It’s no use, and there’s no time.
I stand from my crouched position on the floor, my back aching as I rise up to my full height and turn back to the door.
It’s open.
How did I not hear her coming?
“I thought this day would come eventually,” sighs Mrs Carmichael, shaking her head and looking at me through small, fading eyes.
She steps in and shuts the door, her eyes turning to the dismantled lock and screws that sit upon her desk.
“Sit down, Brie,” she says. “I think it’s time we talked.”
22
As I move back round toward the door and take a seat in front of her desk, she does the same, dropping into her chair behind it.
Opening up the top drawer on the left, her spindly fingers emerge with a cigarette. Lighting it up, she opens another drawer and comes up with her whiskey. And two glasses.
She fills them, and slides one over to me, despite knowing my distaste for the stuff. There’s a method to her movement that suggests I’m going to need it.
I take a sip to settle my nerves, and find that the liquid doesn’t burn quite as badly as last time.
An acquired taste indeed.
“I suspected you’d try to break in here tonight,” she begins, a swirl of smoke drifting from her nose. “I know you better than you know yourself, Brie Melrose. You were ever so eager to know how long I’d be out.”
Her choice of words is revealing. I’m sure she does know me better than I know myself…
“And you lied to me?” I ask. “You knew you’d be back earlier than 11. I guess it wouldn’t be the first time,” I say bitterly.
“And you believe yourself to be hard done by?” she asks. “Tell me, Brie. What’s prompted all of this?”
I think again of Zander’s words, warning me not to tell anyone. Much as I’d like to, however, I can’t obey him. Not now. Not here.
“I know the truth,” I say. “I know my parents were Enhanced. I know I’m a hybrid.”
I watch closely for her reaction. She barely registers one, and that alone confirms what Zander told me.
He was telling the truth.
“How did you find out?” she asks.
“Does it mater?” I counter. “You’ve been lying to me my whole life…”
She shakes her head, still calm. As she said, she knew this day was coming. She’s spent my entire life preparing for it.
Her croaky voice continues to break into the silence, smoke spilling from her lips and nose as she speaks. It’s the one thing that gives away the nerves inside her: her proclivity for smoking a little faster when under duress.
And as well as she knows me, I know her too. I can see through her external poise to the growing turmoil within.
“There’s a difference, Brie, between lying and withholding the truth. I have been doing the latter, and I’ve been doing it for your protection.”
“My protection? You don’t think I can handle the truth?”
“It’s not about handling the truth. It’s about staying safe. I’ve only wanted to keep you from harm, that’s all. The truth was only ever going to bring you pain.”
“It’s my pain, Brenda,” I say. Her eyes widen a little at the use of her first name. “It’s not yours to keep. And neither is the truth. Now tell me…tell me everything.”
My words fade into silence. A drawn out breath escapes her. I note the slightest tremble of her fingers as she raises her glass to her lips, and sinks its entire contents.
Mine remains before me, untouched but for a sip. I merely stare at her, awaiting her voice, my heart growing oddly steady as she prepares to speak.
“I knew your father,” she says finally. “He was a member of the City Guard, and would often patrol the streets around here. He was kind and friendly to the people, and was nice to the kids here when they were out on the streets. They were fascinated by him, as you would be...given his gifts. He was a Hawk. His eyes…they were just like yours.”
I feel a swell of sadness grip at me as she speaks, his eyes appearing before mine, as they so often do.
“And…my mother?” I whisper.
She shakes her head.
“I knew nothing of her. All I know is that she was from Inner Haven too, and that their relationship was illegal. Your father grew more interested in the academy as time went by, asking so many questions. I got the feeling he was trying to work us out, Derek and myself. Figure out if we were good people, good guardians.”
She takes another swig of whiskey, her eyes growing moist with a glistening of tears.
“One day, he came to us. He was…distressed. He told us about his relationship with your mother, something that they’d been trying to keep a secret. But…they’d been discovered, and had no choice. They had to give you up, Brie. So he brought you to me.”
Now it’s my eyes that grow wet. It’s been so many years since I’ve shed a tear, my heart growing cold to such emotion. Not today. Today I feel my cheeks grow warm, salty brine silently sliding towards the corners of my mouth.
“Your parents knew that you’d be hunted down if they discovered you. The last thing they wanted was to give you up, you must understand that. Your father made me promise to keep the truth from you…until you came calling for it. He knew, like I did, they this day would come.”
Now I can’t hold back. I reach for my whiskey and let the burning liquid fizzle in my throat, distracting me from my grief, if only for a moment.
“What happened to them?” I whisper. “After they gave me up?”
“I don’t know for sure,” she says. “I…I never saw him again. But…”
“You think they’re dead?”
She nods silently.
“And the picture?” I sniff.
“Your father brought it with him. He wanted you to at least know what they looked like, if not who they were. It’s all he could do. Anything else could have put you in danger.”
I take another sip of whiskey, and sniff away a few tears, wiping my cheeks with my sleeve. Mrs Carmichael reaches forward and refills my glass. I don’t object.
Then my mind turns backwards, and I think of Mrs Carmichael’s dislike for Inner Haven, her hatred of the doctrine sent down by the Court and Consortium. Such things must be rooted in what happened to my parents, the fate they suffered because their relationship was deemed illegal. We here in Outer Haven think we’re hard done by, but truly the Enhanced have it worse.
They’re little more than slaves to their masters, so entrenched in their world that they no longer know the benefits of freedom that we continue to enjoy. After so many years of indoctrination, they’ve learned to accept their place, living in an emotionless world of the Savants’ design.
My parents broke those rules, and they suffered for it. It breaks my heart to think of their pain at giving me up, knowing what I’d become should I take on their gifts.
But I haven’t. All my life I’ve been normal, human, just a regular Unenhanced living a regular life.
I look to Mrs Carmichael, sitting silently and watching my mind tick over. A question bubbles to my lips, but before it can fall, a realisation does so first.
“The pills,” I whisper. “I…I don’t have diabetes, do I?”
My guardian continues to look at me,
her eyes sunken and tired and old. Her head shakes.
“The black market,” I continue. “You go there to get pills to suppress my gifts, to keep me human? You’ve been doing it all my life…”
“I had to,” she says, her voice a croaky whisper. “I had to keep your abilities from emerging, I promised your father I would.”
“And…is that what Drum saw,” I ask. “I heard you in here the other night, telling him to keep quiet. You’d taken him to the black market, hadn’t you…and he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.”
Her frail fingers linger constantly around her mouth now, her lungs filling and emptying of smoke almost every other breath.
“I suppose you might as well know now,” she says. “I’ve been getting your medication from the Nameless for years…they manufacture it to help keep people safe, and to shield their gifts from the Consortium. Drum saw me with them. I doubt he truly knew what was going on, but I didn’t want him saying anything. I never wanted you to find out about this…”
“But I had to eventually,” I say. “What would you have done when I left this place and moved elsewhere, or found a man to marry?”
“I guess I thought I’d keep giving you the pills. Keep track of you. I want better for you than what happened to your parents, Brie. If you go off your medication, your powers will manifest, and you’ll be found out. It might take a month or a year or more…but they’ll find you eventually.”
She looks at me more closely again, the cogs ticking behind her eyes.
“Unless,” she continues, “you’ve already been found. Who was it that told you, Brie. Tell me.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “Just a boy…one of the Nameless. He’d seen me at the ceremony. He knew who I was…”
“But how? I’ve kept you hidden from them. They never knew who the pills were for…”
“I don’t know. We didn’t get to speak for long. We were…interrupted.”
She grits her teeth and narrows her eyes.
“Interrupted?”
“Stalkers,” I say, almost guiltily. “They found us…but he got us away from them.”
“Oh, Brie! That’s exactly why I didn’t want you going to that ceremony. I knew something was going to happen. I knew it would be a slippery slope…”
“Something did happen,” I cut in. “I found out the truth. And I’m happy for it.”
“You shouldn’t be. I can already see where this is going…you’re already falling deeper. You should forget all of this, Brie. Stick with your medication, forget who you are, and get on with your life. It’s what your parents would have wanted.”
“No,” I say quickly. “No…if my parents were killed for falling in love, then that’s not something I can live with. I can’t just sit back and do nothing…”
Mrs Carmichael drops her head, her posture deflating like a popped balloon. She looks older than she ever has before, more weary. As if she’s been trying to hold back this tide for so many years, trying to prevent the dam from bursting.
But she can’t stay the flood forever. Something has changed in me now. There is no going back.
And she knows it.
“You’re going to try to find them, aren’t you?” she whispers, defeated. “The Nameless…”
Her murky eyes lift again, resignation inside them. It’s a look of failure.
She hasn’t failed.
I stand, and move around the desk, and lean down in front of her. I take a grip of her fingers, wrinkled and sallow from her incessant smoking, and cup them warmly between my palms.
“I love you, Brenda Carmichael,” I tell her. “I’ll never forget what you’ve done for me. And I don’t blame you for withholding the truth. You did what my father asked you to do, and you did what you thought was right. But I can’t go on as normal, as if nothing’s happened. These last few days, they’ve opened my eyes, my mind. I have to do my part. You had no choice, and neither do I.”
She smiles weakly, and a trickle of tears work their way down the network of wrinkles across her cheeks.
“What will you do?” she asks me weakly.
“I…I don’t know exactly. I need to find this boy again. There’s still so much more I have to learn. After that…I guess only time will tell.”
Her thin lips work into a smile, and she pulls me into a hug, her bony arms coiling round me and gripping me tighter than ever.
“The northern quarter,” she whispers into my ear. “Go to the black market. Ask for Walter and tell him I sent you. If this boy is truly a member of the Nameless, he’ll help you find him.”
I lean back, and see the fresh surge of conviction spread across her face.
“You’re helping me?”
“Sweet girl,” she says, laying her withered hand on my cheek, “I know you’re going to go anyway. The seed has been planted. There’s no stopping that now. So I will do what I can to help, and I want to make sure that this boy is who he says he is. Walter will know. Go to him, and he’ll help you find the truth.”
She reaches into a drawer in her desk, and pulls out a pair of glasses. They’re simple, built from a thin, silver frame and with a light blue shade to their lenses. She hands them to me.
“Take these,” she says. “The black market moves around to avoid detection. Go to district 5 in the centre of the northern quarter, and put these on. They’ll reveal the markings…follow them and you’ll get to the market.”
I take the glasses from her, and slip them into my pocket.
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“There’s nothing else to say,” she says. “Except that…your parents would have been so proud of you. Of the young woman you’ve become,” she croaks. “As I am.”
I smile and pull her into another hug, a large part of me not wanting to let go. Wanting instead to take her advice, to forget all of this, to carry on living in ignorance of the truth. But I can’t now. I have no choice.
And as I grip tight to her old body, I whisper into her ear again.
“You are my parent,” I tell her. “That will never change.”
I release her, and drift away. And with a final look, gaze upon this woman who raised me as her own. Kept me secret and safe. Fulfilled her promise to my father that she made so many years ago.
But now, she’s done her part. She’s done everything she could to allow me to live a normal life. To stay safe from those who’d try to take me away.
Those days, however, are done.
And now, my world is set to open in ways I could never have imagined.
23
I pack in secret. Essentials, nothing more. A few bits of clothing, toothbrush, the glasses that Mrs Carmichael gave me. And, of course, the picture of my parents, folded up as neatly as possible and deposited in the inside pocket of my jacket.
I don’t take much, partly because I don’t have much to take, and partly because, as far as I know it, I might well be right back here later tonight. My path ahead is far from clear. Truly, I’m running on nothing but instinct right now.
But there’s a drive in me to act, and not to just wait around here for Zander to rear his head. It’s been less than two days since we met, and yet I feel an urgency to take the next step. For my entire life, I’ve been consigned to the shadows, kept in the dark.
No longer. I’m seeking the light myself.
My guardian’s suspicions also need to be considered. Right now, I don’t really know anything about Zander other than what he told me, and having complete trust in strangers has always been something that Mrs Carmichael has warned against.
Seeing her contact, Walter, will help me confirm his story and association with the Nameless. It’s only prudent that I act upon her advice, given what she’s done for me.
I decide not to tell Tess. Confronting Mrs Carmichael and learning the truth was one thing. Immediately relaying it all to Tess would be another. Right now, I need to strike out with no distractions at all, and involving my best friend is only going to compli
cate things.
The same goes for Drum. I console myself with the thought that, should I be gone for long, he’ll be able to take some of the work left in my absence. But, like me, the last thing he needs are any distractions of his own.
I act as normally as I can manage that day, sticking to my room for the most part. Only when Tess has left the room to fetch some food am I able to prepare my departure, hastily packing away my things before hiding the bag under my bed should she return.
The removal of my parents’ picture will no doubt cause some confusion in her when she notices it’s no longer attached to the wall. By that point, however, I’ll be long gone, deep in the recesses of the northern quarter in my continued hunt for the truth.
I suppose I’ve always been a curious girl, although never to this extent. For years I’ve found myself wondering about a great many things about Inner Haven, the nature of the Savants, the truth about exactly what’s going on beyond the borders of this city.
Now, however, that curiosity has reached fever pitch, my own existence, my own past, thrust right into the centre of it all. It’s like a fire has been lit within me, the flames stoked and turned wild. My yearning for the truth – the full truth – is raging inside, a thirst only quenchable by venturing to some dangerous places.
And the northern quarter is most certainly that.
As the afternoon shifts along, and Tess once more disappears down into the common room, I decide to take my leave. Slipping my bag onto my back, I hastily wind down the stairs and head for the communal closet. I fetch my jacket, wrap myself up, and head for the building’s exit.
With a final look upon the academy, I take a breath and disappear onto Brick Lane, quickly swallowed up by the stream of people working their way up and down the narrow street.
I don’t look back as I work my way north, seeking the nearest boarding point for the Conveyor Line. There’s one handily situated at the top end of Brick Lane, a cluster of people queuing up to board as the standing transport slows at a certain juncture, allowing them to step on.
I join the back, and am quickly climbing aboard myself, heading off in a northerly direction. With the afternoon quickly subsiding, the streets begin to grow a little clearer as I journey on.