Relief coursing through my veins, I set Diana's letter aside, and stare down at the last piece of paper. Tia's words are the ones I most dread reading. Somehow, in the back of my mind, I knew that even if Diana was angry with me, she would never put it down in writing. Tia, on the other hand...
I unfold the page slowly – and, if I'm honest, a little reluctantly – and stare down at Tia's rushed scrawl.
Eve,
I don't know why Lorna asked me to write this letter. I don't know if she has a way of getting it you and, frankly, I don't want to know. I didn't even want to write one. This is so risky. It could fall into entirely the wrong hands and I've been punished enough already. But to be honest, I don't think it ever will find you, and I'm taking the opportunity to say exactly how I feel knowing that the chances are you'll never read it.
I thought your plan was ridiculous from the beginning, and I made no secret of that. But I hoped that, in time, Malachy would convince you to see sense. Clearly, I was wrong. I don't blame Malachy, of course, not after all that has happened to him, and even if he hasn't said two words to me since you escaped.
I realise now what I was too stupid to before. I told you back when you ditched me and turfed me out of our room that I knew you weren't doing it to hurt me. I know now, of course, that you were trying to save me. I wish I could say that I'd have liked you to confide in me, to tell me that you were taking Lorna's plans seriously, but if I'm completely honest, I'm glad you didn't.
I'm a good friend, Eve, and I'm loyal. But I have to say that in all my life, even through my foster homes and terrible upbringing, I've never met someone as toxic for me as you. I understand your reasons for helping Lorna Gray escape, and I understand that Sir Alec would most likely have isolated you had you not, and most would say that what you did was noble and brave. I suppose it was. But it was also selfish.
You tried to help me by distancing yourself from me, by setting up elaborate illusions before you left, but I want you to know, you didn't help me. They tortured me, they interrogated me, they tortured and interrogated my friends and my fiancé. My friendship with you has made my once much-loved life a living hell, and tarnished my name forever.
You claimed you were escaping to save Lorna, but the truth is, you were escaping to save yourself. The situation Sir Alec put you in was unfair, but you made the choice to save your own skin and leave your friends to bear the consequences, rather than face them yourself.
I wish you no harm, Eve, but I hope I never see you again.
Tia.
From somewhere inside my ribcage, my dead heart shatters into a thousand tiny fragments. I knew Tia's letter wouldn't echo the same sentiments as Malachy and Diana's. I knew she'd write one or two lines about how pissed off she was, about the horrors she'd had to endure, and I would never deny her that. But in my heart, I thought she'd have forgiven me. I thought she'd have mellowed with time.
I re-read the letter, my hands shaking. I've never looked at things from her perspective before. It never even crossed my mind that leaving Malachy and Tia and everyone else behind would be more selfish than staying. I convinced myself I was sacrificing everything for Lorna, but Tia's right; I was doing nothing more than saving my own skin.
I hope I never see you again.
That's a sentence I thought I'd never hear from Tia. Tia, my first ever real friend. Loyal, kind, funny; she'd never had a bad word to say about anybody, not even those who'd failed her in her human life. Until me.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Lucrezia.
The journey home seems faster than usual, most likely because Malachy and I are dreading it so much. The call to father was urgent; we were told to leave immediately and travel to Mount Kamen as quickly as possible. I suggest that perhaps there's been a development, a clue as to the Rebels' whereabouts, but Malachy thinks differently. 'He's frustrated,' He tells me as we travel to New Zealand. 'Nothing's happening and it's driving him crazy. The Army can't find them, the hostages won't tell him anything, and he's pinned his last hopes on the Institute students.'
After that little insight, the small breeze of disquiet in the pit of my stomach has accelerated into a full blown gale. We'd been interrogating students for weeks now, at first half-heartedly, then, as father's demands came louder and faster, with increasing vigour. Still, they'd yielded nothing. Besides Malachy, I'm the least trusting person I know, but I have to admit that even I don't believe a single one of those students has the slightest clue as to Ryder's whereabouts. Even Carey, with her admission that she knew about the escape plot, genuinely has no idea where her former best friend might be. We have nothing to offer father, and he won't be impressed.
Despite the setbacks with the students, though, I'm hugely relieved that Malachy chose to abandon his plan to find Ryder himself after just two days. I promised him I would help him, but I never for a moment thought it was a bright idea. Thank God he saw sense, and fast. I can't help but notice, however, that since he returned his swift bout of nostalgic affection for me has completely disappeared. If anything, he's even more distant than he was before, and it's because of this that I still haven't told him all that I know. Those few moments on the plane, when I finally had his trust again, meant more to me than he will ever know, and I reason that if he found it within himself to feel that way about me again – for however brief a time – there's still hope yet. I won't snuff that spark out for anything in the world.
When we arrive at Mount Kamen, the atmosphere is less panicked than it was before, but no less tense. The secretaries are tight-lipped and unsmiling, heads bent over their desks as if their lives depend on it. The mountain is less guarded, though, as if the initial panic is over.
The family are gathered in the Genus Room, even father, though he looks like he'd rather be anywhere else. They're completely focussed on us as we enter the room, uncomfortable silence filling every available space. 'Malachy,' Mother stands finally, breaking the tension. 'Lucrezia,' She smiles, gliding towards us with her arms outstretched. We hug her dutifully, but stiffly. Granted our family meetings are never exactly a barrel of laughs but they're never quite this sombre. The worst part of it is not knowing why. 'How was the journey?'
'Much the same as always, mother.' Malachy's tone is more harsh than he intended and he shoots mother an apologetic glance. Clearly he's feeling the strain just as much as I am, if not more.
'Malachy,' Caruso finally speaks, as I knew he would, and his voice is harder than usual with a dangerous edge. 'Quite a pickle we appear to be in.'
'Sir?' Malachy frowns, and no one but me notices the subtle way he taps his foot lightly on the stone floor, signalling his anxiety.
'The upcoming Rebellion,' Caruso smiles, but there's no joy in it. 'I keep telling your father to station more guards around the mountain, but he's stubborn in his will.'
'The AG are here. What could we possibly need more guards for?' Father snaps, keeping his eyes trained on the ground. I always find it so peculiar to see how much Caruso intimidates my father. He hid it from us well, right up until we were adults, and by then, we'd never seen anyone intimidate our father. 'And I've stationed more than enough at the Institutes.'
'The Institutes?' Caruso frowns, narrowing his eyes at Sirus. 'You don't think your family are worth protecting? Your legacy?' He jerks his head in Malachy's direction. Father doesn't look up.
'Until twelve hours ago, my legacy was at one of the Institutes, safely guarded,' There's something about the tone of father's voice as he says this that unnerves me. Something that suggests calling Malachy here wasn't entirely his idea. 'Besides, wasn't it you, father, who called the Rebels 'nothing more than a rowdy band of vagrants'?'
'That was then,' Caruso snaps. 'When I still believed you'd have them rounded up by the end of the week.'
'I have no information to go on,' Father grits his teeth, barely suppressing his rage. 'Without information I can do nothing.'
'You have the hostages. You have the Mayfair girl, release her
and offer her a chance again.'
'As you well know, Amber Mayfair was released days ago and offered the chance to work with us again, she still refused. She'd barely been starved more than a few weeks, it's not enough. The hostages won't talk, no matter what we do to them. We've tried every form of interrogation on Jaroslav Zeman, and even gone so far as to use new techniques on the captured old Rebels. They've given us nothing.'
'Then try harder! Threaten their families!'
'They have no families to threaten!' Sirus finally loses it, standing up and glaring at his father with something resembling hatred. 'If you'll excuse me, I believe my son was called here for a reason. Maya, Malachy, Lucrezia, come with me.' He doesn't turn back as he strides towards the door. Malachy, mother and I glance quickly at one another before scurrying in his wake, following him through to the Throne Room.
He drops into his ancient throne, resting his long arms on the gold beneath them. I've never seen him look so harrowed, so without his usual combination of egotism and malice. 'Maya, sit.' He commands, watching as mother jumps to it.
For a moment there's nothing but silence, stretching on until it feels like I've gone deaf. Malachy and I stand dutifully upright in front of our father, at the bottom of the three wide steps leading to the six thrones. 'What progress have you made with the students?' Father's voice is reasonably calm, but it cuts through the air like a particularly sharp knife. There's a moment of hesitation before Malachy speaks, and I sense my mother twisting uncomfortably in her chair.
'None,' My brother admits finally, his tone neutral. 'One of the students has admitted to knowing about Eve Ryder's escape plot, but denies any knowledge of the plan to take Lorna Gray, and insists she knows nothing about Eve's whereabouts.'
'She's lying!' Father hisses, and for a moment, some of his usual confidence returns. 'Press her! Do whatever it takes to make her talk.'
'Sir – ' Malachy hesitates again. I wish he wouldn't. It makes it look like he's hiding something. 'The student in question has been interrogated several times. We've left no room for error. I'm certain she's telling the truth.'
'Threaten her with the Confine. That ought to loosen her tongue.'
'We already have,' Malachy sighs almost imperceptibly. 'She insists she doesn't know where Ryder or the Rebels are.'
'So you've made no progress at all with the students?' Father barks, watching closely as Malachy shakes his head. 'Once again, I'm left with nothing,' Sirus sighs, leaning back in his throne, some of the anger draining out of him. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. 'I thought for sure when the Gray girl was found that she'd have some useful information for us. Names, places, at the very least a vague idea. But apparently, Eve Ryder ditched her the moment they made it to Thailand. Hot-footed it in the opposite direction at a hundred miles an hour.
According to Lorna Gray, Ryder was expressing her irritation that the human was holding her back, and it was Lorna's suggestion that they part ways. I find that difficult to believe – ' He leans forward again, resuming his suspicious expression. 'Why would Ryder go to all the trouble of breaking Lorna Gray out of the Institute, only to drop her at the first hurdle?'
'I don't know, Sir.' Malachy mumbles.
'I toyed with the idea of having our own guards interrogate her, rather than simply be present during Sir Alec's attempts. But unfortunately, in the wake of all this, we need Sir Alec firmly on our side. Torturing his daughter may cause his loyalty to sway,' He looks unbelievably irritated at this idea. 'So I gave up on the human. Then, miracle of miracles, a lone vagrant by the name of Jaroslav Zeman is found suspiciously loitering around The Gray Institute. I thought: At last! A glimmer of hope!' Sirus hisses dramatically. 'We interrogated him. The AG went to work on him. Eventually he admitted he had been casing the Institute, looking for a way in for the Rebels. I was pleased at this news; it means the new Rebels are indeed following in the footsteps of their predecessors and stupidly targeting the Institutes. It also confirmed my suspicions that Eve Ryder is involved in all this mess; why else would The Gray Institute be targeted first? But no matter what we do to him, Jaroslav Zeman will tell us nothing more.
'I released Amber Mayfair, praying that her short stint in the Confine would be enough to coerce her into working for us again, but still she refused to speak. You can imagine my relief when finally, three old Rebels were captured swimming aimlessly in the middle of the Indian Ocean. Unfortunately they were caught separately, miles apart, giving no indication of their destination. But I knew they'd talk eventually. Do you think they did?' He aims his question at Malachy.
'I'm guessing no.'
I barely manage to hide my sharp intake of breath, winded by the shock of Malachy's tone. I try to catch his eye, to silently scream at him to keep his cool, but he doesn't take his eyes off Sirus. 'You guess correctly,' Father shoots him a sick smirk. 'Their lips are as sealed as Zeman's. So, you see, I was more than hoping you'd have some information to offer me. I was counting on it.'
'Father,' My mouth speaks of its own accord, motivated by the finality of Sirus' tone, though I don't know exactly what is coming to an end. 'For what it's worth, I, too, believe the students when they say they know nothing of Ryder's whereabouts. I've been present during more interrogations than Malachy has, I've over-seen many of them personally. They've been pushed beyond breaking point and they still have nothing to tell us.'
Father regards me for a moment and I shiver quietly, watching him decide how to address me. He often disregards me when it comes to politics, giving his full attention to Malachy, but he also knows me well. He knows I bear no love for the Institute students, or anyone in particular, save Malachy and our family. Therefore he sometimes trusts my judgement when it comes to matters such as this. When he finds himself questioning Malachy's motives.
'That's unfortunate,' He says finally, neither dismissing me nor indulging me. 'But you see, your lack of results when it comes to questioning the students isn't the only reason I summoned you here,' Once again his eyes are on Malachy. 'A short while ago, Sir Alec paid us a little visit here at Mount Kamen,' He's wearing that smile again. The kind of smile I imagine an opponent gives you when they know they've won the battle and they're just about to strike the killing blow. 'As you know, he's invited the family to one of his james, and came to give us details of the guest list.'
'Oh, it's going to be splendid,' Mother forces a smile, just a little too cheerful. Her darting eyes tell me she has no idea what Sirus is about to say either, but, like us, she senses danger. 'So long since he's held one. And it's in Argentina! I haven't been there for – '
'Be quiet, Maya!' Sirus suddenly bellows, his voice bouncing off the stone walls, ringing out long after his lips have closed. He remains still for a moment, composing himself, before he speaks again in a deathly low tone. 'Sir Alec and I had the chance to have a little chat whilst he was here. So often when he visits I'm pre-occupied with important political matters, I so rarely have the chance to sit down with him. Naturally, the hot topic was the Rebels' Hell break out and the suspected Rebellion. Eventually we got around to talking about Eve Ryder and where in the world she may be. I pressed him once again about his daughter; had she said anything new? Had she remembered something she'd forgotten? Once again he told me she hadn't.
So I asked a little more about his daughter and Ryder's friendship. We talked about the task he set the first year, about how he fully expected her to have the human convinced within a mere few weeks. How much he was looking forward to seeing his daughter willingly transformed.
Then I remembered something,' Sirus smiles again. 'I had a bone to pick with him. So I asked him, 'What's this I hear about you involving my son in your shenanigans?'
He looked at me, shocked, stammering away. But my anger had faded, I was simply toying with him to amuse myself. I laughed and told him he need not look so worried, but in future, he might choose to let you get on with your duties rather than enlist your help in trivial matters concerning his
daughter's transformation.
Do you know what he said, Malachy?' The longer Sirus speaks, the lower his tone gets, until I feel I might collapse with fear. I have no idea what father is talking about, and by the look on my mother's face, neither does she, but Malachy's jaw is hard, his eyes cold.
'No.' He replies simply.
'He said he had no idea what I was talking about,' Sirus shakes his head. 'Now that got my back up. There I was, being lenient with him and trying to make a friendly joke about his disrespectful attitude towards my son and heir, and he had the nerve to deny it! So, I admit, I got a little cross with him. I asked him who on Earth he thought he was ordering my son around? Asking his future Auctorita to keep an eye on an insignificant first year to ensure that she completed a pointless and menial task set by Sir Alec himself? Then do you know what he did?' Father's anger is rising, not in his tone but in his eyes. Despite the fact that he is prolonging whatever this charade is, acting the scene out like he's on a stage, he isn't deriving any enjoyment from it. He's truly perturbed by something.
'No.' Malachy repeats.
'He interrupted me,' Sirus whispers, eyes bright with malice. 'He told me he'd done nothing of the sort. He said he never asked you to keep an eye on Eve Ryder. He said he would never dream of asking anything of you. He had no right. But he did admit to knowing that you were helping the Ryder girl. Though he insisted it was of your own accord. That's strange, isn't it, Malachy?' This time, father doesn't wait for a response. 'Why would you, my son, my heir, future ruler of our world, spend your precious and valuable time helping a pathetic first year who meant nothing to you in a completely ridiculous task? Why should you care whether Lorna Gray went willingly to her transformation, or was dragged kicking and screaming? Did you care?'
The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell Page 32