The Enhanced Series Box Set

by T. C. Edge

  And with the church roaring nearby, we just stare in silence. Lost in thought, lost in doubt.

  138

  The first words I say come after an age.

  They come from somewhere deep, some profound place in my mind. A place of dreams and ambitions. A place where anything is possible.

  “Let’s leave this place,” I whisper.

  I’m still staring forward at the High Tower, glittering through the mist. I can see Adryan look down at me through my peripheral vision. But still I just stare forward.

  “And go where?” he asks.

  Slowly, I turn around on the spot, looking off as far as I can into the opposite direction. Through the old ruins of the town. Through the woods around us. Through the hills and mountains and over the rivers and streams.

  “Somewhere,” I say. “Anywhere…”

  I speak without hope or expectation. I speak without belief. The words just come, like a daydream. A daydream I’ve had so many times before.

  A daydream that, deep down, I always knew would never come true.

  “Out there,” says Adryan, nodding forward. “After everything we’ve seen?”

  I’m not thinking of that. I’m not thinking of the dangerous tribes, or the beasts, or the Shadows that lurk beyond. I’m not thinking at all of anything real. I’m just speaking, allowing myself some cathartic release, as the church continues to shake with the sound of a hundred arguing voices.

  But here, it’s quiet. Here, it’s peaceful. A place for silly dreams that will never come true.

  “Genocide,” I whisper. Reality is dawning. The respite provided by my imagination is closing up. “They’re talking about genocide…”

  Adryan nods. He takes a tighter grip of my hand. My eyes are drawn to his.

  “We could go,” he says, nodding. “We could take our chances.”

  Is he saying it for me? Does he really believe it?

  He can’t. His Savant mind would never allow such a thing.

  Already I feel the daydream slipping away. It was never real.

  I turn back to the High Tower, away from the unknown. Back to the place that dulls my heart, dulls my spirit.

  “I won’t be part of it,” I say. “I won’t help.”

  “They wouldn’t ask you to,” says Adryan. “Your brother wouldn’t…”

  “My brother…” A scowl of disappointment curls on my lips.

  How can he wish for this? How could he live with himself if he saw it through?

  “You’ve done your part, Brie,” Adryan tells me. “And so have I. Let them figure it out, let them do what they need to…”

  I shake my head, seeing in my mind’s eye the towering structure being eaten by flame. Seeing it crumbling to the floor, crushing the thousands who reside within.

  “You don’t believe that, do you?” I ask. “You wouldn’t let them…”

  “We don’t have a choice,” he answers quickly. “I…I hate the idea. But I see the logic in it. I see the bigger picture, as ugly as it is.”

  A sigh drifts from me. I hate that I see it too, that I understand what they’re saying. But there has to be another way. This cannot be the course they take.

  The fires of a revolution cannot be lit like this.

  “If only I’d completed my mission,” I lament. “Look where we are now. Whatever happens, thousands are already being killed and reconditioned. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for…”

  “Don’t, Brie,” says Adryan sharply. “It’s not your fault.”

  “I…I know. I’m not blaming myself. I’m just...” I shake my head and let my chest deflate. “I don’t know. I’m just disappointed. We could have saved so many lives. We could have changed the world.”

  Adryan takes my shoulders and turns me to him. He draws me into a hug, sensing that that’s what I need.

  “We tried,” he says softly. “We tried our best.”

  I hate the thought. If our best isn’t good enough, then what’s the point in trying at all? What was the point in any of this?

  I slide from his arms and he lifts my chin. Again, he repeats what he said before.

  “We could go,” he whispers. His eyes look again to the world behind us, to the great unknown. “We could find somewhere peaceful. Live simple lives away from all this.”

  I smile weakly at his words. He’s never uttered such a sentiment. I’ve told him before of my desire to explore, to escape this city. His ambition has never been the same. All he’s ever wanted is to free Haven from the grip of Cromwell, to see all its people cooperating, working together for a brighter future.

  And yet, here he is, willing to leave with me. Willing to leave for me.

  I reach up and take his cheek in my palm. The lightest of touches draws his face in, and our lips lock in a gentle kiss.

  And in that moment, with all these emotions flowing through me, some words escape me that I never intended. Words that I never thought I’d utter.

  “I love you,” I whisper, so quiet as if I’m afraid to bring to life my feelings. A little girl, timid and shy.

  I dip my eyes, too frightened to look into his. Across the street, the noise in the church fades into the background, and all the world turns silent.

  A second passes. Then two.

  My eyes rise again and, nervously, I look into his.

  I see a smile on his face. His lips part, ready to speak. They delay a moment, and then he says: “I…love you too.”

  I can’t help myself. Against my better judgement, I enter his mind and see confusion. I see me, my face prominent in his thoughts. But it’s not quite me. There’s something different. And as I look, I see my features alter slightly, turning into someone else.

  And then I see it.

  Amelia. His first wife. The woman whose abduction and death set him on this road, to this moment.

  He’s still thinking about her. He’s still in love with her.

  And me? I’m just a residue of that. A reflection.

  Nothing more.

  I turn away, and blink hard as a tear gathers.

  “Brie…” whispers Adryan. He lifts my chin.

  “You don’t have to...” I start.

  I don’t finish. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.

  I steady my emotions, and shut away the foolish girl. Foolish for telling him how I feel. Foolish for feeling that way in the first place.

  And foolish for even considering running away, leaving this place.

  I turn back to the city, and a fresh resolve fills me. My friends are there, my family. Mrs Carmichael. Tess. Abby and Nate and the others at the academy. Drum down below us right now, at his sentry post, fighting the good fight.

  Fighting for what’s right.

  I can’t run from that. I can’t hide from it.

  I will never abandon those I care about.

  Those I love.

  Those who love me.

  Who really love me…

  And as the debate continues to rage within the church, I know that, one way or another, I still have a part to play. As long as there are those I care about in the city, I will always be here for them. I will always do what I can to help them.

  And turning away from Adryan, I look to the church, and begin marching back towards it.

  Like Commander Burns told me when he revealed who he really was.

  There’s more to be done out here. And I still have a role to play.

  I just have to figure out what it is…

  THE END

  The Enhanced will continue in the next book, Renegade.

  Part VI

  RENEGADE

  139

  I sit in the dim light of Lady Orlando’s quarters, right up against the windowsill. Beyond the murky, stained pane of glass, the blurred lights of the High Tower continue to stare at me.

  And I stare right back.

  The fire flickers behind, passing its warmth into the room. Yet there remains a shudder to my bones that won’t shift.
>
  I’m alone.

  Away through the door and down the short corridor, the main hall of the church has grown quieter. The raucous roars of debate have subsided. Many of those who had come here beyond the city to discuss what to do next have departed. Only a handful of the more senior members of the Nameless remain.

  But not me. I don’t want to lend my voice to the debate. It seems inevitable right now that the decision will be made to destroy the High Tower, kill all those who reside within it.

  To bring this entire war to an end in one fell swoop.

  But will it?

  Will destroying the High Tower bring the people of this city together? How can such an act of wanton violence do anything to seal up the rifts that have developed between the people?

  I shake my head as I gaze at the tower under question. As I imagine the many thousands inside it right now, their fate being considered so heartlessly by the supposed leaders in this cause.

  Rebels.

  Revolutionaries.

  That’s what they call themselves. But is that true? If they topple a building full of innocents, aren’t they just murderers? Aren’t they just as bad as Cromwell himself, presiding over the deaths of so many with such detachment?

  But then, Lady Orlando – Cornelia – is indeed a Savant herself. She’s viewing this from a place of dispassion and objectivity. She may feel more than most of her kind, but she’s still able to separate her muted emotions from the decision making process.

  Not like me.

  So, I choose to not participate. I’ve made my thoughts known simply by my absence. When I stormed out of the church as the debate began, Zander was quick to notice me leaving.

  When I re-entered, I didn’t stay. I walked straight through, up onto the stage, and back down the corridor to where I am right now. I blocked it all out and took myself away, leaving the rest of them behind to haggle over this war.

  Adryan stayed back, leaving me to get some space and time alone. That’s another thing I’m happy for. Only an hour or so ago, I’d professed my love for him, and seen merely a reflection in his eyes. A reflection of the love he still holds for his first wife, Amelia.

  His real wife, Amelia.

  I’m not his real wife. Our marriage is a sham, a convenience. A union designed to get me close enough to kill Artemis Cromwell, a mission I failed to see through.

  Now, I suppose our marriage can be annulled. In fact, given how I’m a spy and he’s a traitor, I’m guessing that the good folk down at the Council of Matrimony are already striking our marriage from the books.

  He’s no longer my husband.

  Whatever happens, Inner Haven will be changed forever, and our false union won’t stand. I am a single girl once again.

  Right now, my thoughts can’t dwell on him. And they can’t dwell on what my brother and Lady Orlando and the other leaders are concocting either. My part in this is a simple, single one: to make sure those I care for are safe; to give them sanctuary when the whole world begins to fall down around them.

  Already, it’s starting. The girl called Kira, described by Lady Orlando as the Nameless’ eyes and ears in the city, made it clear that the whole of Outer Haven is coming under occupation.

  Soon enough, it will be too hard to get Mrs Carmichael and Tess, and the rest at the academy, to safety. They’ll stay there to the bitter end, stubborn as they both are, until they’re eventually taken for reconditioning, willingly or not.

  In fact, given my escape, and our rescue of Adryan, I have my suspicions that Cromwell is going to start using my loved ones against me. Even now, he might be gathering them up and using them as bait. Luring me into another of his terrible traps.

  All I have to go on is what my brother told me – that, a couple of days ago, he went to check in on Mrs Carmichael and found her in good spirits. That she is adamant that she’ll stick around in the city she knows and not abandon the kids who, according to Zander, cannot be given sanctuary here.

  I understand his reasoning.

  We all have people we care for. Were every member of the Nameless to go rushing off to gather up their friends and family, we’d be completely overburdened and overrun. The only way of saving them is to save everyone.

  And apparently that means destroying the High Tower.

  I look at it again, shining through the haze, and a numbness engulfs me. I turn away just as quick and look upon the flickering fire instead, crackling gently in the background as the odd spark is spewed from a piece of dry wood.

  I stand and gravitate towards it, and find myself scooping up a glass of whiskey from the little side-table. My body is warmed by the fire. My throat is warmed by the liquor. I take a seat on an old wooden chair and let my ears fill once more with the subdued voices down the corridor beyond.

  Then, the sound of a creaking door lifts in the quiet night, followed by a few slow footsteps. They stop outside the Lady’s quarters. A moment later, the second door is opening and my hus – Adryan – is staring upon me.

  He steps in and shuts the door. His face, once so pristine, is etched with a network of lines that tell of his recent experiences. There’s a veil of pain and discomfort over his eyes that may never be drawn off, deep scars now cut into his body and mind.

  We both need a wash, and a change of clothes. Mine have adorned me since I was taken in by Cromwell, held captive at the summit of the High Tower after my aborted assassination attempt. His are different, a grey jumpsuit that was thrust over his body as he was kept in a cell at a far more horrific place.

  I see the stains of blood through the cloth. Some might be the blood of the wolves that attacked us on the road, slaughtered by Zander as they snapped at our heels at the base of that tree. Most, however, is his own, seeping from the wounds inflicted during his torture.

  I wonder just what his body looks like now beneath his clothes. From the brief sights I’ve got of it in the past, I know it’s well honed and athletic, a pristine frame to match his pristine face.

  No longer.

  His body, like his face, is permanently etched.

  “Have they made a decision yet?” I ask as he steps in.

  I want to break the silence, the tension. There’s something different between us now. I feel numb to look at him.

  “They’re getting there,” he whispers. “Perhaps they have no choice after all.”

  I turn my eyes away from his and back to the fire. There’s something comforting about it. A natural force without prejudice or agenda. I’m beginning to hate the whims of men.

  “I argued against it, Brie,” he says, trying to assure me of his humanity. “I’m just being…realistic.”

  I nod, but don’t speak.

  He comes towards me, expecting to draw up my eye. I don’t lift my gaze. I can’t look at him right now.

  “Brie…” he whispers.

  His hand slides across my upper arm. I still don’t look at him. Then it’s to my chin that his fingers come, pulling my eyes up.

  “Brie,” he says again. “What’s wrong?”

  A huff spills from my lungs.

  What’s wrong?

  Everything’s wrong.

  I drop my chin again. My glass tips down my throat, and the whiskey tumbles. It doesn’t burn this time.

  It soothes me.

  “I…I do love you, Brie,” comes his voice.

  His words bring a grimace to my visage. It fades just as quickly. I don’t care about all that right now. None of that matters in the face of all of this.

  At least, I wish that were true.

  I wish my heart wasn’t aching like it is.

  His body drops to a knee, so that he’s right there in front of me.

  “It’s hard,” he whispers. “You just…you remind me of her. Of Amelia. I can’t help that. But it doesn’t mean I don’t…”

  “Stop,” I say, cutting through his voice. “Just…stop, Adryan. It doesn’t matter. We don’t matter right now, OK.”

  A new silence fades into t
he room. Beyond it, the voices are heard again.

  “I just want you to know,” he says. “I don’t want to see you hurt.”

  “I’m not hurt,” I lie, still unable to look at him. “I’m just…tired. And dirty. And…”

  “Scared?” he asks.

  I nod.

  “For your friends?”

  My lungs empty. “For everyone,” I say.

  “I understand. You have lots of people you care about in the city. It must be hard. I suppose I’m lucky. I only care about one person. And she’s right here with me.”

  Now my eyes do turn to his, silver and soft and yet written with that pain that may never fade. I look at them, and feel a desire to enter his mind and see what he’s really thinking.

  But I don’t.

  I don’t want to see the truth. I don’t want to know.

  I consider so briefly the option of altering his thoughts. I could rewrite his memories, dampen and dull those of Amelia, force his thoughts of love and affection to centre only on me.

  I could do it all, change him to be how I want him. Make him fall madly in love with me and forget his first wife ever existed.

  I could, but I couldn’t. I won’t. I’d never do such a thing to him. Not him.

  He reaches out with his hand and cups my cheek. I feel him trying to draw me in, his lips moving towards mine. I pull back and turn away, looking at the fire once more.

  “It’s OK,” he says. “I understand.”

  He stands and takes a step back.

  I feel horrible. I just want to be alone.

  “There are showers,” he says, his voice firming up, hardening. “Your brother said there are fresh clothes for us too. Come on, Brie. Let’s get ourselves sorted.”

  The idea forces me to move, to rise up from my stupor. I feel filthy, inside and out. I need to purge myself of it all.

  So I follow him down the corridor and back out into the main church. And as we pass across it to the right, and another door, I look to see that the gathering has grown small. That the voices are no longer in debate, but in quiet and cool discussion. That heads are nodding as one, and people taking their turns to speak.