The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell

by Leanne Pearson

  'Vlad Katak,' He shakes his head slowly. 'I had no idea you were even part of the new Rebellion, let alone the instigator. Well done,' He nods, giving a tight smile. 'And you,' He turns to Asil and makes a sound at the back of his throat, a little like a snort. 'I had a feeling you might follow your brother, but I didn't think for one second you had it in you to take part in any of this. You served my son well until he tired of you; you were quiet, obedient,' He pauses in thought. 'But perhaps that's useful to Vlad here. Now that he's the one who gives you orders.'

  'I don't give orders,' Vlad's sudden hiss is strangled, angry. He glares directly at the man I now realise to be Sirus. 'They follow me because they choose to. I'm not like you.'

  'No,' Sirus smiles, but it's a sickly, twisted one. 'No, you're not. I hear that you didn't even want to take my place, had this little Rebellion of yours succeeded.'

  'Get on with it, Sirus,' The other dark haired man snaps impatiently. 'Every moment they're free is a danger to us.'

  'All in good time, father,' Sirus replies without turning. 'I have a few things I'd like to say first. To all of our guests,' He extends his horrible smile to the rest of us before his gaze comes to land on Vanessa. I watch her throat bob as she chokes down a swallow. 'Particularly you, Miss Foxton. I admire you, you know,' Sirus tells her sincerely. 'I want to watch you break under the hand of one of my torturers, but I admire you. You must be exceedingly clever to fool me for so long. You were a model Officer, an inspiration to the lower ranks. Your length of service alone was something to be commended. Tell me, how long were you deceiving me for?'

  'Longer than you'd care to know.' Vanessa replies, her voice much shakier than Vlad's.

  'Amazing,' Sirus shakes his head. 'Of all the people here, you will be the hardest to let go. I will be very sorry to see the back of you.'

  Throughout Sirus' sick little pantomime, I continuously try to catch Malachy's eye, but to no avail. He appears to be deliberately avoiding my gaze, choosing to stare at anything instead; the walls, the floor, even his sister. Sirus' footsteps on the stone distract me as the sound grows nearer and nearer. He stops in front of me, and close up I can see the faint lines of age which decorate his handsome face. He must have been around forty when he was transformed, a ripe age for an Immortal, but he wears his years well. He regards me with the same fascination he awarded the others – like we're a particularly rare species on display in a museum – but beneath the façade, in the depths of his pupils which blaze with emerald fire – the brightest and most ferocious I've ever seen – lies a deep, overwhelming hatred which buckles my knees.

  'Forgive me,' He smiles, his mouth close enough to taste his words. 'I am acquainted with the others, but you are unfamiliar. By face, if not by name,' He adds. 'You must be Eve Ryder.' He waits for me to speak, but I don't, I just nod. It must look to the others like an act of defiance but really I'm just too petrified to even open my mouth. 'You must be either a very brave or very stupid girl,' He remarks. 'To flee The Gray Institute in the beginnings of your first year. To take the headmaster's human daughter out into the world. Rather rash acts, wouldn't you say?' This time he waits for me to speak. Waits. And waits.

  'No, sir.' My voice is alien, a high pitched whisper, if there ever was such a thing.

  'No?' He raises his eyebrows, as if truly surprised. 'My, my, but you are stupid,' He glances towards Malachy, who doesn't look up. 'And brave.' He adds cryptically. He steps away from me and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

  'Sirus.' Caruso's tone is a warning, and Sirus concedes, stepping back onto the platform beside the red haired woman I assume to be his wife. Malachy's mother.

  'I would love to hear every detail of your escapades over the past few months, truly, I would,' Sirus smiles. 'But my father is an impatient man, and I don't like to disappoint him,' Once again he casts a quick, pointed glance in Malachy's direction. I feel a strange, nagging sensation in the pit of my stomach and try to ignore it. 'As you know, we take treason very seriously here at Mount Kamen,' Sirus continues conversationally. 'You've broken so many laws I've genuinely lost count. But no matter; it only takes one to earn you an eternity in the Confine. On a personal note, I can't stress to you how much I despise Rebels, no matter how high their calibre,' He smiles at Vanessa. 'Our government, our traditions, they are sacred and ancient; the very notion that you might want to destroy them, that you think you are wise enough to implement your own, frightens me as much as it amuses me. Oh, yes,' He nods at Vlad. 'I don't mind telling you that Rebels frighten me. You were there, Vlad, during Kristoff's little tirade. You know the pains I went to to quell those who rose up against me. But quell them, I did. And I made damn sure that if a Rebellion were ever to take place again, there would be no such contest.'

  'What did you offer him?' Vlad steps forward suddenly, and his guard races after him, dragging him back. 'What did he ask for?'

  'Of whom do you speak, Mr Katak?' Sirus raises an eyebrow. Vlad scoffs, and then actually spits on the floor. I stare open-mouthed at the small puddle of drool darkening the stone beneath it. Sirus eyes it distastefully, but holds up a hand when the guard advances towards Vlad.

  'You know damn well,' Vlad growls, his voice inhuman. 'Alec. What did he ask for in exchange for giving us up?'

  'Alec?' Sirus frowns, a smirk playing on his lips. He's enjoying toying with us, as though this is his little slot of entertainment for the day, not a serious and potentially lethal uprising against him. 'Sir Alec?'

  'Don't fuck with me, Sirus.' Vlad shakes his head. It's not a threat, more a genuine request.

  'How dare you!' Caruso launches himself forward, towards Vlad, but Sirus' voice rings out through the air.

  'Leave it, father. Let Vlad have his little moment.'

  'He disrespects us! He's a disgusting, filthy animal!' Caruso points to the puddle on the floor. 'He treats us like we’re nothing!'

  'That's exactly what you are to me!' Vlad protests, shouting louder than Caruso. 'I didn't choose you to govern me. I didn't ask for your leadership. I wasn't consulted when you were implementing new laws and orders into our world. None of us were! Why should we treat you with respect?'

  Caruso is so indignant he can't seem to get a sentence out; he splutters and spits, his eyes wide with exclamation. Sirus steps forward and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. 'Let me deal with this, father,' He urges quietly. 'I'd like to answer Vlad's question.' Caruso glares at Vlad a moment longer before reluctantly retreating back to his wife. Sirus returns his focus to our leader.

  'I didn't offer Sir Alec anything,' He says bluntly. 'Nor did he ask for anything. In fact, my forces are on their way right now, this very moment, to arrest Sir Alec in Argentina.'

  Vlad blanches, as do we all, casting small glances of shock at one another. Sir Alec? Arrested? For what? Is this a trick? Is Sirus lying?

  'Arrest him?' Vlad eventually chokes out. Sirus smiles again. No, Sirus beams, as though he's hit the jackpot in Vegas.

  'Sir Alec is just as guilty as you are. He aided and concealed fugitives. In a protected building, no less,' Sirus shakes his head, but he's laughing silently. 'Make no mistake, Sir Alec will be joining you in the Confine. Such a shame. He was a trusted ally. Dare I say, friend. My father gave him his position as head of his Institute. Such ungratefulness.'

  I feel panic rise up in my throat and threaten to strangle me. If not via Sir Alec, how did Sirus find out about us? Suddenly everyone I've met since leaving the Institute comes under suspicion. Could it have been Slav? Was he a double agent, like Vanessa? Perhaps he broke under torture. Perhaps one of the others did. It's perfectly plausible. In fact, now that I think about it, it's actually more likely than Sir Alec betraying us. Oh, why didn't we make more of an effort to look for them? Why did we trust them in the first place? Why, why, why?

  'You said – ' Vlad's voice is hoarse, and he swallows to clear it. 'You said you'd heard a lot about us.'

  'Oh, I have,' Sirus nods. 'I've heard so much.'


  'Then who – '

  'So much about you, from my son.'

  Sirus' words don't hit me right away. In fact, they don't hit me even after they appear to have hit everyone else. The four figures to my right whip their heads around, all eyes coming to rest on the blond man next to the wall. For a moment, I think: why are they all staring at Malachy? Then I realise.

  Malachy.

  'You look surprised, Vlad,' Sirus is positively jumping for joy now, he can barely conceal his glee. He clasps his hands together, as if trying to hold it all in. 'I can't for a moment think why. You see, your plan was positively genius. Break out the old Rebels to gain numbers and to throw me off the scent, make me think you're going to target the Institutes as they once did and send my forces out in their hordes to protect our educational establishments. Bribe a trusted Immortal of status with a strong connection to me and use him to feed me propaganda. I think the Ryder girl joining you was more a matter of luck than effort on your part but it was certainly clever of you to realise the human girl's worth. It was almost flawless,' He sighs in mock admiration before narrowing his gaze. 'Almost. You see, there was one tiny part of your plan that you hadn't really thought through. I don't blame you; arrogance affects the best of us. I myself have overlooked things due to overenthusiastic confidence. But to believe that my son, my heir, my child, would be loyal to you over me? Well,' Sirus tuts. 'That was positively moronic.'

  'You fucking – ! ' Vlad moves with surprising speed, and even manages to get four or five feet before the guard's hands clamp down on his shoulders. Malachy doesn't move an inch, but Sirus leaps forward as though he's been scalded, placing a hand around Vlad's throat.

  'You won't touch my son.' He growls, his red-brown eyes flashing menacingly. My toes curl up at the sight of him. 'You should be blaming yourself for your utter idiocy! Promising Malachy what's already owed to him? What sort of incentive is that? I expected better of you, Vlad.' Sirus says, like a father who's been disappointed by his son. 'Malachy told me everything. It's hardly surprising; Rebels will do as much damage to him as they will to me, even with false promises to allow him to rule anyway,' He snorts, as if this is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. 'Did you think I'd raised an imbecile? Did you think he wouldn't see through your lies?'

  'I thought he was someone he's clearly not!' Vlad spits through gritted teeth.

  'You're damn right.' Sirus snarls.

  It's then, right then, hearing Vlad's words, that the full weight of what's happened finally sinks in.

  Malachy betrayed us. Malachy betrayed me.

  'Malachy?' My voice leaves my mouth of its own accord, and the sound makes even me wince. I've only sounded like that once before, when I was five and I thought I'd lost my mother in the middle of a busy shopping centre. I was lost, alone and afraid, and that's how I feel now. With an added something. Pain.

  I've never felt pain like this. Not when I was using. Not when I overdosed. Not during my transformation. Not even when I had to leave Malachy and everyone else behind. It's crippling, horrendous, gut-wrenching pain. I feel it everywhere; in my stomach that twists and lurches, in my chest which aches and spasms, in my head which burns like fire.

  At the sound of my voice, Malachy finally looks up. For a moment, his eyes project the same feeling I'm experiencing in my body, the same torturous pain, but Sirus turns to look at him, and all at once it disappears. He appears neutral, unaffected, apathetic.

  Sirus turns back to me, and he doesn't say anything, but his eyes... God, his eyes. I've never really taken the expression if looks could kill seriously. But now I understand it. Sirus looks as though he'd like to hand feed me piece by piece to one of the yellow zombies. I sense that he wants to say something, even yell and shriek at me, but for some reason he doesn't. Has Malachy told him about us, too? What did Sirus think of that?

  Then, something occurs to me. Was Malachy using me for information on the Rebels? Did the time we spent apart after I'd left the Institute make him forget his feelings for me? Did he view me afterwards as an opportunity? Was any of it real?

  'Enough,' Sirus says finally, his voice empty. 'Take them away.'

  Several things happen at once after Sirus barks his order, and I seem to witness them in slow motion. Kristoff, who has been silent and still up until this point, wrenches himself out of his guard's grasp and lurches forward, arms outstretched towards Sirus. His guard – caught unawares – dallies a moment before launching himself at Kristoff, whose fingers are mere inches from Sirus' face. The two men crash to the floor as Sirus watches, apparently indifferent to the drama unfolding.

  Vanessa drops to her knees on the cold stone floor, burying her face in her hands and emitting an awful, carnal howl. I guess she never stopped to consider that the Rebellion might actually fail, and that her life – so privileged up 'til now – might take a drastic turn for the worse.

  But it's Vlad's actions that startle me the most. Given his attempt to break free before, his guard isn't unprepared and has his arms firmly wrapped around Vlad's torso, but it doesn't matter. Vlad breaks away, sending the guard flying, barely giving him a glance as he crashes against the wall with a sickening thud. Vlad charges at Malachy, who is completely unprepared, and collides with him head-on, sending them both sprawling across the platform. Lucrezia screams, rounding on them, and jumps on Vlad's back, scrabbling at his hair, trying to drag him off her brother.

  Before I really know what I'm doing, Asil's arms are around me and I realise I've taken a few steps forward.

  'Don't!' He hisses in my ear, keeping my back pressed firmly against his chest. Don't what? I think. Don't try to protect Malachy from Vlad? Or don't join in with the attack on him? I'm not sure myself which I intended to do.

  It's chaos for a few moments as Vlad lays into Malachy, Lucrezia flails on top of them both and the guards try to assemble themselves and make a decision about who to protect. Finally, it's Sirus himself who charges at the Vlad-Malachy-Lucrezia heap on the floor, dragging Lucrezia off and swatting her away before wrenching one of Vlad's arms behind his back. Vlad yells out in pain, having no choice but to stand up and back away from Malachy, dragged by Sirus to the centre of the room. 'Change of plan!' Sirus yells, his animal growl bouncing around the stone walls. 'Take Katak to the cells! Take them rest of them away.'

  Vlad writhes in Sirus' grip but he can't hide his twisted expression of pain. I've never seen an Immortal move as fast as Sirus, display such easy strength. He lifted Lucrezia as though she were nothing more than a piece of string, and bent Vlad to his will with ease. He passes Vlad over to his guard, who seems eager to prove himself after being thrown against the wall, and handles Vlad so roughly it's like he's playing with a rag doll. Mine and Asil's guards return and clamp their hands down on our shoulders, probably relieved to have the only two Rebels who didn't cause some kind of mayhem. Kristoff is already out in the corridor, and Vanessa's guard has to pick her up and carry her as she's too distraught to walk.

  The last thing I see before being dragged from the room is Lucrezia helping Malachy to his feet. Normally, he would never let her. He wouldn't want her to be seen as giving him any kind of strength. But that was before. Apparently, the dynamic between the Beighley twins has changed as Malachy pats his sister's shoulder in thanks. No doubt she is the root of all this, the reason Malachy betrayed us. Did she find out about the Rebel plot? Manipulate him into turning us over?

  But as first Asil, and then I am dragged into the corridor, the twins turn to watch me, and, in the strangest moment, they both appear to display regret. I catch only a blurred glimpse of Malachy's pale blue eyes before the stone wall blocks my view, and I turn to face my fate.

  When we reach the wide corridor below, Vlad and his guard separate from us, heading in a different direction. We listen to Vlad screaming, being dragged all the way along another corridor, until a wooden door closes behind us and drowns him out. We pass through the large cave with the four desks again, and this time, the s
ecretaries openly stare. I wonder how much they know about us. About the Rebellion. I wonder if, had we succeeded, they would have joined our side. I guess we'll never know.

  Our guards lead us in a straight line out onto the snow-covered mountain and down the dangerous path towards the ground. We cross the plains where, just minutes ago, the Rebels were battling to enter the Confine. Where we were filled with hope. Where we thought we were winning. There's not a trace of them here now, nor the silver cases they bore. The Confine guards are back in formation, strategically placed to defend the tall mountain which houses the Immortal prison. A few of them look a little worse for wear; their uniforms are ripped, their faces covered with dirt, but they eye us hungrily as we approach, as though anticipating a wondrous feast.

  We finally pass between the two large boulders which, moments ago, we were desperate to reach. Beyond them lies a snowy path strewn with footprints, winding to the left. A wide opening at the base of the mountain forms the entrance to the Confine, and beyond it is nothing but darkness. Nothing but despair. As Kristoff is bundled inside, followed by Vanessa, Asil and I are pushed together and he quickly grabs my hand. His fingers are cold, as are mine, but from them I draw a certain amount of strength. From the small squeeze he gives my palm, I garner a little comfort. At least I'm not alone.