“I still don’t see how she ended up dead. You’re telling me that an entire detention center of enforcers couldn’t keep hold of one Illegal?”
He answered irritably. “Evan tried to smuggle her out by disguising her as an administrator. The two of them were almost through the main gate when someone raised the alarm.”
“Then what? You lot stabbed her?” Except I knew immediately that they couldn’t have caught her with a sword, not if Bry hadn’t been wearing a collar. “You shot her, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t do anything. I was here, waiting to see if you’d live or not. But she used her ability, and yes, they shot her.”
“I thought streakers weren’t standard equipment yet.”
“They’re not. But they’ve recently been issued to the guards on the gates and walls.”
I sat in silence for a few minutes, imagining all those armed enforcers on the lookout for escape attempts or an attack from the Tribe. Had Briony understood how many deadly weapons would have been aimed in her direction? She must’ve been desperate to try to out-Run them. I felt a sudden rush of warmth toward Evan, glad that she hadn’t been alone at the end.
“What happened to her guard?”
“He’s here, in the hospital.”
“They shot him, too? What for, to punish the guy?”
“No one did anything to him,” he replied evenly. “He went a little crazy when Briony died, and he had to be sedated. He’s here under guard until Wentworth clears him to be moved to the cells.”
“Sounds like he loved her.”
“Apparently so.”
There was a note of surprise in his voice, and it stung. More than stung — it cut, opening up a wound I didn’t want to acknowledge was there. “Guess that’s not something you could understand, a Citizen loving an Illegal.”
Connor drew in a long breath. “No, it isn’t. Any more than I understand why you’re so concerned about someone who tried to kill you.”
“She was still Tribe! She was just another Illegal to you, though, wasn’t she? Someone to manipulate and murder.”
“I had nothing to do with her death. And she was well aware of what she was doing when she came here —”
“She was terrified and vulnerable, and you took advantage of her.”
He ran a hand through his hair in an utterly uncharacteristic gesture and growled, “She was vain and thoughtless and selfish, and she made her own fate, Ashala!”
I lunged at him, forgetting that I was sitting on a bed half-covered with a blanket, and ended up hopelessly tangled. Connor caught me as I fell, then dragged me to my feet and held me against his chest. His heart was pounding wildly, and I could feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. For a weird moment, everything seemed upside down and confusing. Then I shoved him away, snarling, “Get your hands off me!”
Connor took three quick steps back, and we stared at each other across the room. He actually looked upset. But even as I watched, his usual composure began to reassert itself, the emotion vanishing from his features. I glared into his distant blue eyes, hating him for everything he’d done, for everything he was, and, most of all, for the glitch in my head that made me react to him as if he were some kind of guardian angel. No, be honest, Ash — not a glitch in your head. A glitch in your heart, you stupid, stupid girl.
We stood there for what felt like ages, and I was starting to feel vaguely ridiculous when the door swung open. Neville came in, with a red-robed Wentworth following close behind him. Her pretty caramel-brown face was anxious, and I shifted uneasily as her dark eyes flicked over me. “I’m glad to see you’re recovering, Ashala.” She didn’t sound very glad. Turning to Neville, she added, “She is making excellent progress, but I do think she needs more rest. I’d prefer not to discharge her yet.”
“I’m afraid,” Neville responded, “that I must speak with her, Rae. She has information about an attack.”
With a monumental effort, I choked back a gasp of dismay. Then I opened my mouth to deny everything. Before I could get a word out, though, Neville said, “Don’t even try to talk your way out of it, Ashala. You spoke in your sleep.”
Talked in my sleep? How would he even know that? Connor. Connor, who hadn’t been outside when Bry and Evan were trying to escape because he’d been waiting by my bed to see if I lived or died. He’d left out the part where he’d been spying on me. I scowled at him as Neville spoke to Wentworth. “She mentioned details that indicate a genuine threat. Lives could be at stake.”
What details? Wait . . . I’d been having that odd dream thing with Georgie and the Serpent. Whatever I said, it wasn’t the Illegal rebel I was talking about — it was the other Serpent! But I knew they’d never believe that.
“If you like, Ashala,” Neville told me, “you could talk to me here. Whatever it is that you’ve gotten caught up in, I’m sure you wouldn’t want people to be hurt.”
His voice was gently hopeful, and Wentworth responded to it, smiling encouragingly in my direction. Neville was standing slightly in front of her, though, so she couldn’t see what I did — the hint of something in his features that wasn’t grandfatherly kindness. He was angry. No matter what I said or did now, Neville was never going to stop until he’d extracted every scrap of knowledge from my mind. Dr. Wentworth couldn’t save me. No one could. It was the most awful feeling to stand close to someone who was trying to help and know that I was completely alone. I carry my friends with me, I reminded myself, calling up images of Ember and Georgie and the rest of the Tribe. I carry my friends with me. The memory of their faces gave me enough strength to hold Neville’s eyes with mine as I slowly shook my head.
Wentworth slumped in disappointment, and Neville sighed. “Then I’m afraid I am going to have to ask you some questions, Ashala. You agree it’s necessary, Rae?”
“Yes . . . I mean, if there’s going to be an attack . . .”
She sounded uncertain, and Neville asked in an amused tone, “What do you think I’m going to do, torture her?” He laughed, and Wentworth did, too, somewhat sheepishly.
“Of course not! I’m sorry — it’s been a long day.” She shot a glance at me, but I just stared flatly back, knowing she’d achieve nothing by continuing to come to my defense. And there was no point in putting her at risk for nothing, not when the other detainees in this place needed a Mender as good as Wentworth. My lack of response must have finally convinced her, because, looking relieved, she said to Neville, “You’ll bring her back if she shows signs of a relapse?”
He smiled his best grandpa smile. “Naturally.”
I made myself take deep, even breaths as the Chief Administrator ushered my only ally out the room, watched as he closed the door behind her, and swung back to me. His usual air of benevolent kindness had vanished with Wentworth, and I didn’t much like what was left behind. “You know,” he said, “it really would be best if you confessed what you knew. Justin has reported that you mentioned the Serpent, and Cambergull.”
It took every ounce of strength I had to keep my face blank. Cambergull? How could I possibly have let that slip? It hadn’t even been in the dream.
Neville waited for a few moments, then asked, “Exactly what were you doing in Cambergull the day you were captured?”
Gathering my courage, I achieved a casual shrug. “I went to check out the new Bureau of Citizenship office.”
His brows drew together, and his mouth hardened. I knew he’d heard that lie before. Bry would have repeated it to him, because it was exactly what I’d told her and the rest of the Tribe, except for Ember.
Only Neville didn’t believe it, not anymore.
“Bring her to the machine.” Neville strode out, leaving us to follow.
Connor and I began walking, eventually emerging from the cool corridors of the hospital into the warm afternoon air. I tipped my face to the sun, savoring the few precious minutes of being outside. Connor was watching me, but I ignored him. There simply wasn’t any point in wasting my energy on arg
uing with him, or even speaking to him, not when I had to conserve all my strength for what was to come. The wind picked up, swirling through the center, and I caught a distinct hint of eucalyptus. My towering tuarts. I inhaled, drawing the cleansing scent into my lungs as I called out to the trees in my head: If I could make it back to you, I would. Except that wasn’t going to happen, because Neville would have me hooked up to that machine until I was broken or dead. My only real hope was that the stress of the ordeal would kill me before I gave him the information he was searching for. They’d probably tell Wentworth I died while trying to escape. I smiled, thinking that it wouldn’t even be a lie.
The world seemed to be receding around me as we entered the building that held the machine, or maybe it was me that was receding from the world, withdrawing into myself. I clung to that feeling of detachment, thankful for the sense of distance that made it seem like it was some other girl who was walking into the windowless room, drinking the vial of stay-awake liquid, and being strapped into the dreadful chair. Grey fussed over the box with Neville at her side, while Connor removed my collar, fitting the final restraint around my neck and the hoop around my head. He retreated to stand beside the door, and I found myself bizarrely transfixed by his uniform, wondering why it had gone all fuzzy and sparkly around the edges. Then I realized that the entire room was filled with faintly blurring shapes and odd swirls of light.
I focused on the tiny flecks of color that now seemed to dance across the composite wall, following them to the ceiling. I smiled in delight at the twinkling field of reds and blues and greens and yellows and pinks. It suddenly struck me as very important that every single one of those miniature lights had once been something else, before they got put into the recyclers to make composite. Maybe they’d come from awful things, like the remains of old-world factories or weapons. Now they were part of something useful, something you could build stuff from. It seemed a shame, though, that they’d been made into a detention center. When Illegals finally get rid of the Citizenship Accords, I promised the lights silently, you can be a house. No, this place was too big for a house. Perhaps a school? A library?
Neville approached and loomed over the chair, distracting me from the starry ceiling. “Is there anything you’d like to tell me before we begin, Ashala?”
“Yes,” I replied solemnly. “Nothing ever truly ends, only transforms.”
He made an exasperated noise. “There’s no need to put yourself through this ordeal. Why don’t you help yourself and tell me what you know about the Serpent’s attack?”
“He’s not attacking anything. He’s sleeping in the water.”
“What water? Where?”
“In the Balance. And everywhere else, too.” My gaze drifted to the lights again, finding comfort in the sight of all those tiny, twirling spirits. Maybe I’d float up to be with them if the machine killed me. Except I wouldn’t want to be part of a detention center. I called out to them hopefully, “I’d like to be a wolf!”
Neville peered into my eyes and shot a frowning glance at Grey. “What exactly did you give her?”
“She lost consciousness after the last time she was on the machine, even with the drug. I thought it advisable to administer a higher dose.”
“I need her coherent!”
“I don’t see why it matters,” Grey protested. “It’s my machine that will get you your answers.”
“Your machine can be something of a blunt instrument, Miriam.”
“I keep telling you, I’ve improved it. It’s much better than it used to be.”
“It is still far from perfect, and she will resist it. She’ll be of no further use to me if her brain ends up completely scrambled.”
He came closer, patting my hand where it lay confined in the padded restraint. “Ashala, I need you to concentrate. Talk to me about the Serpent. What do you know about his plans?”
“Nothing.” I sighed. “The Serpent said I’d forgotten his story.”
He didn’t seem happy with that answer, and I felt bad for disappointing him, especially when he’d asked so nicely. Then an idea occurred to me. “Maybe I can tell you your story instead.”
“I’m not interested in my story, Ashala.”
That was a silly thing to say, but maybe he didn’t realize how important it was to understand your own story. I hadn’t, either, until Ember told me.
“Ember says everyone has a tale they tell themselves about who they are. And if your tale is true, then you see yourself clearly, like looking into still water. But if it’s not, then it’s more like the water’s all rippled, so you can’t see yourself at all.”
“Ember’s one of your Tribe, isn’t she? Does she know the Serpent?”
“Ember knows stories. You see, I think your story is the Balance. You tell yourself that everything you do to Illegals is okay because it’s all for the sake of the Balance.”
But those words tasted bad in my mouth, all bendy and askew, and I knew I’d somehow messed up the story. Neville was speaking again, asking about Cambergull this time, but I wasn’t listening. Instead, I tried to work out where I’d gone wrong. Neville had started to blur around the edges, too, and I felt like I actually saw him better this way. Colors seemed to move through his body, showing me the patterns of thought and feeling that lived beneath his skin until, finally, I understood.
I felt cold, the fog lifting from my mind as Neville came back into focus. He looked expectant, but he wasn’t getting any more answers from me. I knew his tale now, and it was a terrible one. The reason Chief Administrator Neville Rose imprisoned and tortured Illegals was simply because he liked doing it, and he’d never thought his actions were for the good of the Balance. That was just something he said to other people, part of an elaborate trick he played on the world. He enjoyed causing pain as much as Grey, but he was much worse than her. She was simply mad, a dog gone rabid. Neville held both her leash and his own, and when he let go of the restraint, it was because he’d made a deliberate choice to do so.
Licking dry lips, I whispered, “You’re a very bad man, Neville Rose.”
He scanned my face. Then he smiled. It wasn’t his grandfatherly smile. It was the knowing smirk of a monster who understood exactly how monstrous he was and simply didn’t care. “I don’t think you’re going to help me, Ashala. What a shame.”
He nodded to Grey, who began pressing buttons on the black box. Unable to stand staring at him for a second longer, I let my eyes roam around and fixed on Connor. He was so still and expressionless, he truly could have been a statue, and yet the sight of him was instantly reassuring. I wished I could tell myself that my reaction to him was another strange effect of Grey’s drug, but I knew it wasn’t. For days now, I’d been avoiding a part of my own story, trying to hide from feelings I didn’t want to have. Only here, in this room that I wasn’t very likely to leave alive, it seemed pointless not to acknowledge the truth. I love Justin Connor. He didn’t deserve it, but somehow that didn’t change how I felt.
Grey stopped pushing buttons, and Connor’s gaze locked with mine as I tensed myself for what was to come. The very last thing I was aware of before the blinding flash was his flawless features, crumbling into an expression of utter desolation, and I thought, This is how the angels looked when they watched the world end.
The white light faded, leaving me standing once again on the grasslands, disoriented and alone. Everything seemed the same as before — yellowy grasses, rocky hills, distant tuarts. And the far-off thumping that heralded the approach of the dog-beast. I turned to run for the trees, but a giant boulder came thrusting out of the ground, grass and dirt flying everywhere as it rumbled to block my path. The same thing happened in every direction I tried, except when I faced the sound of the dog’s pounding steps.
Ember appeared in front of me. “I’m afraid they’ve upped the settings, Ash.”
“So what do I do?”
“Get hold of the dog’s collar,” she answered promptly. “I’ve been thinking, a
nd I’m pretty sure it represents the command pathways of the machine. If we have it, we can give him new orders.”
“How am I supposed to get it?”
“You grab the thing!” I looked at her doubtfully, and she added, “You know how when you Sleepwalk, you can do impossible stuff because you know you’re dreaming?”
“Yeah . . .”
“This is a bit the same. We’re in your mind, Ash. If you believe you can do something, then you can.”
“Em, I’m not sure —”
But I never got to finish the sentence because the beast came loping over the horizon. He swerved toward us, letting out a bloodcurdling howl, and Ember vanished.
I yelled, “Wait, Em, I still need your help!” She didn’t reappear, and the hound was barreling forward at an impossible speed. Focusing on that shiny collar, I ran for the beast, keeping a single thought in my mind as I tore through the tall grass: I can do this, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this. Energy burned like fire in my veins, and I sprinted faster and faster until my pace matched that of the hound.
The two of us leaped for each other, but I’d been quicker off the ground, hurtling upward as he dived for the space where I’d been. I twisted to land on his back, and he snarled, bucking and flinging back his head. Dodging his snapping teeth, I clung on with my legs, feeling frantically around the edge of the metal collar until my fingers encountered a latch. I’d just managed to unclasp the thing when the dog bucked again, sending me sailing through the air with the collar clutched in my hand.
I hit the ground hard, the shock of the impact reverberating through my entire body and knocking the wind out of my lungs. After a moment, I managed to roll painfully to my side and sit up, only to freeze in place when I saw that the massive black beast was standing a few paces away. Except he didn’t seem to be interested in attacking me. His entire attention was directed at the collar lying in the grass. I seized hold of it, horrified to find the thing was lined with a series of long, nasty-looking spikes that were wet with blood. The lights were still blinking, and I could see now that there were tiny buttons beneath each of them. Is that how I’m supposed to give him new commands? By pushing buttons, like Grey? The dog trotted over, bending his head and waiting for me to put the ugly thing back on him. I gazed at the bleeding gouges in his neck, my mind racing. None of this is real, remember? He’s only a black box. Except it was real, and he wasn’t only a black box.
The Interrogation of Ashala Wolf (The Tribe) Page 8