by T. C. Edge
We step off the Conveyor Line at a specific station in district 6 of the western quarter. In his head, Zander keeps a map of the best routes to take above ground, as well as below, his intelligence officers and spies informing him of the ideal passage to get from A to B without encountering security barriers or patrols.
I begin to see why he was so confident we’d reach the academy so easily. If you look hard enough, there are plenty of ways to sneak around up here without drawing attention. And as we move further west and towards district 5, the numbers on the street begin to swell a little, offering us further cover as we go.
And before too long, we’re approaching the northern end of Brick Lane, and my eyes are spreading down towards the narrow street with its little shops and alcoves and the locals who inhabit them.
I turn to my brother.
“We’re certain it’s safe?” I ask. “That it’s not being watched?”
He nods.
“Completely.”
“How long do I have?”
He checks his watch.
“No more than 15 minutes. Don’t get too comfortable, Brie. I’ll be hovering around here, keeping a lookout.” He taps me on the temple. “If you need me, give me a shout. Otherwise, I’ll meet you back here at 11.15.”
I check my own watch to see that it’s in line with his. Then I confirm it and, filling my lungs, take an unusually nervous step towards the academy half way down the road.
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I’ve walked this path a million times before, but never like this. My eyes dart from beneath their lenses, moving from person to person to examine them, make sure they’re not some spy of Cromwell waiting to spring a trap.
I keep my head low as I go, and hurry my step until I’m at the threshold, my hand hovering over the door handle as I make ready to pull it down.
I take a grip and twist, but find the door locked. Unusual for this time of day. Only at night does Mrs Carmichael ever bar the way in.
Then again, this isn’t just a normal day. And it isn’t just a normal time.
I’m forced to knock, my knuckles rapping gently. Beyond the wooden façade I hear the sound of light footsteps. Then, a voice squeaking through the intercom.
“Who’s there?”
I recognise the unbroken words of Nate.
“Post,” I say, keeping my own tone low. For some reason, I don’t want to say my name out loud out here.
“Postal drones have been ordered to drop mail at the communal bank down the road,” says Nate.
“I have a personal letter for Mrs Carmichael,” I say.
There’s a short delay.
“From who? Who is it?”
“Hear my voice, Nate,” I whisper. “It’s me.”
Another delay. Then the sound of bolts and locks being undone. More than I remember there being.
The door opens, and Nate’s little frame appears. His quizzical gaze takes me in as I quickly slide through the doorway. He keeps looking at me as he shuts the door and re-does all the locks.
“What’s the deal with your eyes, Brie?” he asks.
“Lenses,” I answer. “I’m hiding.”
I quickly take them off and put them into the little capsule Zander gave me.
He nods.
“I get it.”
It takes a few more moments for him to secure the door. It appears that other locks have been added since I was last here.
“Been having trouble?” I ask, referencing them.
“A bit,” says Nate. “Everyone is. Is it the same in Inner Haven?”
He thinks I’m still living there I guess. The last time I saw him, and saw this place, I was being given an impromptu farewell party, put on by Tess and Mrs Carmichael. That same night, my best friend gave me the laminated and restored picture of my parents, something I thought I’d lost at the time.
It pains me now to think that I no longer have it. The last time I saw my parents’ faces, they were sat on my lap staring right up at me as I sat chained to that chair in the High Tower. It slipped off when I went to the bathroom. I don’t even know where it is now…
“Brie?” asks Nate, bringing me back into the room.
I widen my eyes and smile.
“Oh, it’s um, better over there,” I say. “So, has there been lots of looting? Have people tried to break in?”
He nods and scowls.
“Brandon,” he grunts.
“Brandon? Why would he break into his own home?”
Brandon the Bully, as he’s otherwise known. The resident tormenter of the younger kids, and even some of the older. He wasn’t short of a few words of insult for Drum when he was here, despite being several years his junior and about a quarter of his size.
“He left,” Nate tells me. “Joined up with some gang, took a few others with him. One of my friends went too…” he mutters.
“Sorry…he joined a gang?” I ask, perplexed. “What sort of gang?”
“I don’t know,” says the young boy. I forget sometimes that Nate’s barely into double figures. A lot of what’s going on is probably lost on him. “They’re, like, a criminal gang,” he adds.
I want to ask more, but realise that time is ticking fast, and I’m very much on the clock. One final question passes my lips.
“And how’s everything else? Anything odd been happening around here the last week or so?”
He scrunches up his nose as he thinks.
“Everything’s odd,” he says. “But, um, there was this one person. They looked like they were from Inner Haven. I caught a glimpse.”
“Who? What were they wearing?”
“Light grey. It was a man in a suit. He had dead eyes.”
“A Savant,” I whisper to myself.
Nate hears me, and nods.
“Yeah. He spoke to Mrs Carmichael about something. And Tess I think as well.”
Probably Agent Woolf’s replacement, following up on her inquiries. Come to think of it, I still haven’t had the displeasure of seeing my old nemesis again…
“OK, thanks Nate. Is she in her room?”
“Always,” he answers. “No one goes out anymore.”
“And Tess?”
He looks towards the stairs.
“She helps run the place now. With Mrs Carmichael. We do what we can.”
He, like Drum, appears to have aged in recent weeks.
“It’s good to see you, Nate,” I say. “I promise, I’ll be back soon.”
He smiles.
“You too, Brie.”
I turn towards the spiral stairs and begin the short ascent up to the second floor. It’s troubling, but not overly surprising, to hear that Brandon has absconded from this place and joined up with some criminal fraternity. He was always a bad egg, and had enough sway over some of the other kids to drag them down with him.
Hurrying up, I find the place quiet, not a soul in sight out in the hall or along the corridor as I rush towards my old guardian’s room.
I check my watch as I reach the door. It’s 11. 04. I’ve only got about 10 minutes left.
I knock loudly. As soon as I hear the first signs of Mrs Carmichael’s voice calling me in, I open up and taste the smoke. It’s strangely pleasant and comforting to see that she hasn’t given up on her vices. And on her desk, a half drunk glass of whiskey sits.
“Drinking before midday, Brenda,” I say with a smile. “Things must be really desperate.”
Through the cloud of smoke she sees me. She needs to squint to make sure she’s not seeing a ghost.
“Well I’ll be,” she says, trying to hide her smile. She lifts her old bones from her chair. We greet in the centre of the room. “How are you, darling?” she asks, engulfing me in a hug.
I hardly need to reply. I hardly can, my words choked somewhere halfway down my throat.
“Your brother came to see me,” she says when I don’t answer. Not doing so, though, is answer enough. The strength of my grip on her back is sufficient. “He told me everything…”
I pull away and check my watch again. Another minute has passed.
“He saved me,” I say. “He’s outside now.”
“Brie, you shouldn’t be here. It’s not safe. What are you thinking?”
“It’s not me, it’s him. He brought me here to see you.”
“Why? You’ve got bigger things to be doing than thinking about me. Or any of us.”
“Brenda, there’s nothing bigger to me than you, than here. I’ve done my part. I’m not a soldier.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I nod forcefully, thinking of the rebels’ plan.
“I’m sure.”
Behind me, I hear the creaking of a door and the light sound of footsteps. I swivel on the spot and see another face I never thought I’d see again. Her blonde hair flows down her neck, unwashed for days. Her eyes hold bags, the same as our guardian’s. Her complexion is a little more pale than I’m used to seeing.
The light inside her has faded along with everything else.
But as she looks at me, some of it returns. Her lips peel open and show her lovely teeth. Her blue eyes shine in the corridor, glinting at the sight of me.
And I know that my expression is just the same.
Neither of us speak. As one, we step towards one another, slowly at first before rushing straight into each other’s arms. I grip her as hard as I did Brenda, as hard as I did Drum, and feel her fingers press so hard against my back they might just leave a bruise.
We embrace for a good half minute. A good portion of my allowance here at the academy. But every second is worth it. I love this girl more than any other.
Eventually, our arms relax and we slip away from each other. Mrs Carmichael comes out to usher us into her room. I check my watch again and see that it’s 11.07.
Tick tock.
As Mrs Carmichael shuts the door, I see Tess quickly moving in and pouring two more small glasses of liquor. I feel like I want to refuse but don’t. As she hands me a glass, mercifully only filled with a small serving, I wonder just what she knows.
I never explained to her what I was, what I was doing, why I married Adryan and went to Inner Haven in the first place. I wanted to, for so long I wanted to, but I never wished to put her in danger. Here, in the academy, only my guardian has been kept in the loop.
But there’s something to Tess’s face that tells me she knows. Her reaction at seeing me was stronger than it might be were I just returning from Inner Haven for a visit. As far as she knows, just as with Nate, I’m currently living in the High Tower with my Savant husband, safe and sound and well catered to during this difficult time.
I look into her eyes, flash into her mind. And as I do so, I realise the truth.
She does know.
I turn to Mrs Carmichael.
“You told her,” I whisper.
It’s only a partial accusation.
She nods.
“I…” she starts.
Tess breaks in.
“She half told me, Brie,” she says. “I worked most of it out myself. Ever since your life started to change, I knew something was different with you. I forced it out of her.”
Mrs Carmichael nods.
“She deserved to know,” she says. “When your brother came and told me what was happening with you…I couldn’t bear it. I had to talk.”
“It’s OK,” I say, calming her words. “Really. I’m…happy you know.” I turn to Tess. “I wanted to tell you all along. It was so hard, Tess. I just wanted you to be safe.”
“I’m not sure anyone’s safe anymore,” she says.
She raises her glass, forcing us to follow.
“To Brie,” she says. “My best friend and sister. It doesn’t matter what else you are, you’ll always just be the girl I grew up with.”
“Hear hear,” says Mrs Carmichael.
Our glasses are clinked and whiskey drunk.
I check my watch. 11.09.
“How long do you have?” asks Mrs Carmichael. Her eyes narrow, glazing over in some strange fashion.
“Barely five minutes,” I say. “I just wanted to see you, show you I’m safe. I wish you could come with me, but Zander says…”
“We can’t go anywhere,” cuts in my guardian. Her voice has taken on a strange quality. Monotone. Slightly robotic.
I look to Tess. There’s something behind her eyes too. Some odd spell.
“Are you…OK?” I ask.
A false smile lifts. She nods. And behind her, my guardian begins shuffling around to the side of her desk. She opens a drawer and picks something out. I don’t see what. She comes back towards me, shielding it.
“I have something for you, Brie,” she drones.
I feel my eyes narrowing, my brows falling. I look to hers and see a mist forming in her mind, as if the poisonous green fog has found its way into her brain.
I turn my gaze to her hands again. She’s close now, a metre away.
“What do you have in your hands, Brenda?” I ask, my words infused with a sudden panic.
Tess moves around behind me. Even my Hawk-eyes are unable to keep track of them both. I twist my neck to look at her, and see her eyes flickering, a confusion rampaging through her cognition.
And then, turning back to Mrs Carmichael, I see a glint of light flash behind her palms, catching from the glowing bulb above. She takes another short step forward.
And a knife comes hurtling at my stomach.
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My hands drop to protect me just as the blade is thrust forward. I step back at the same time in shock, but find Tess blocking my path. Her arms immediately wrap me up, taking my own in their grasp, the five inch dagger just slipping to my side as I lunge to the left, taking Tess with me.
In my head, I’m calling out for my brother.
Help! Help!
I shout without thinking, but the link between us is strong. It finds him immediately, fusing into his mind.
I call only briefly, before my eyes flash on my guardian’s. The battle continues to rage within her head, that strange mist impenetrable and impossible for me to see through.
As she comes again, my body begins to vibrate with a sudden tension, my muscles priming and charging up. Just as the tip of the razor-sharp blade closes in on my gut, I find my Dasher powers activating, my limbs buzzing and vibrating enough to dislodge Tess for a moment.
She slips to the right as I go left, moving out of the path of Brenda’s blade. It glides past me again, missing my flesh by inches.
But not Tess’s.
I watch in horror as the knife cuts right into her abdomen, creeping in a couple of inches. She lets out a yelp of pain as I slam my hand down on Mrs Carmichael’s arm, pulling it away and letting the knife hang free from Tess’s gut.
I push hard at my old guardian, and she tumbles off into a collection of boxes against the wall, hitting them with a raucous thud.
And down below, I hear another: a boom shaking the foundations of the building.
I turn to Tess and see her gazing at the knife protruding from her body in shock. I take a grip of it and pull, sliding it from her flesh, and let it drop straight to the wooden floorboards with a clang. It comes easily, slicing its way out, bringing a pour of blood along with it that quickly drips and gathers on the ground, seeping into its cracks and crevices.
A second squeal of pain falls from Tess’s mouth.
But despite the pain, she bends straight down as I try to place my hand on the wound, and takes possession of the knife. Her eyes, blank and yet wild, turn on me again.
Weakly, she tries to stab me with the blade, her shaking hand lunging at my chest.
I block the thrust easily, and slap the weapon from her grasp. It clatters onto the floor again and my boot comes down heavy on top of it.
“Stop!” I shout, as if they’re able to.
They aren’t.
There’s something in their head, some terrible order implanted by my enemies. A secret plot to murder me if ever I fou
nd myself back here again.
Looking into Tess’s eyes, I see the same mist that clouds Brenda’s. I can’t see past it, can’t get into her head and alter her thoughts.
But someone else can.
From behind me, the banging of footsteps comes, and the door swings open wildly.
Zander quickly takes in the scene: Mrs Carmichael tossed to the side, dazed and trying to stand; Tess, her stomach cut open and pouring blood; me with my foot locking the blade in place on the floor, my hands covered in crimson, my eyes manic as I try to work out just what the hell’s going on.
My brother doesn’t need any time to do the same. He works it out in an instant.
He slams the door shut just as Nate comes hurtling down the corridor after him. The boy begins hitting the door as he reaches it.
“Get rid of him,” growls Zander as he takes a grip of Tess’s face and begins working his magic, tending first to her mind and then to her wound.
I go to the door and inch it open. Nate stands there looking terrified.
“Who is that man?! I couldn’t stop him! He smashed through the door!”
I step out of the room to calm him, shutting the door behind me.
“It’s OK, Nathan. Calm down, he’s a friend.”
He’s panting heavily, trying to look past me at the door.
“What’s happening in there? I saw…I saw blood!”
“Just an accident,” I say. “Nothing to worry about. Tess is having a nosebleed, that’s all. Now go back downstairs and make sure the main door is shut. Can you do that for me?”
“It’s broken,” he says. “That man broke it.”
“OK, well just do what you can. And if anyone asks, tell them it’s all OK. Do you understand, Nate?”
He takes a moment to compose himself. He’s unable to. More questions tumble from his tongue.
I stop them with a flash of my eyes, entering his mind to set the order. His questions immediately stop. His eyes glaze over and then come back to life. And without another word, his entire body relaxes and he turns to go back down to the main hall.