The Reformation

by Garggie Talukdar

  He. Did. Not. Want. This. He placed the file that Stel gave him on the table.

  “I can’t.”

  “You can,” Z reinforced, thrusting the file back towards him. “And you will.”

  “You don’t understand, Z. You cannot trust me. I don’t trust myself. This is a bad idea.”

  “Well we trust you!” Celine shouted, her eyes ablaze. “And you need to start having a little more faith in yourself. You can’t? Well too bad, because you will. You are right, this is a terrible idea, but that has nothing to do with the fact that you are the one to keep these files. Actually, that might be the smartest move of the evening.”

  He barred his teeth at her.

  Undeterred, she kept her hazel eyes steadily trained on his. “You know that this is the factual choice. You believe in duty, Jan? Fulfill yours then. My orders to you as your superior.”

  “Do it for us, Jan,” Stel pleaded. “For NNR. Do it for her.”

  Jan felt his chest clench at the thought, though he was no stranger to balancing the thin tightrope that stretched the distance between his head and heart, and he knew that no matter how her name was used around him, he could never let that be leverage against him. She was a person, dammit, not a lever for others to use when they wanted to pry him up from where he was firmly rooted in the ground.

  “No. I’m not making a choice based on my allegiances, or patriotism, or dead people. I make my choice because of me, and I say no. You believe in yourselves or NNR or Fey Downcley so much, you take the files.”

  Celine ran a hand through her hair, looking up at the ceiling. “You know that doesn’t work, January. We are asking this of you, because we have to. I know you don’t want to, but we don’t have a choice,” She looked down, her eyes suddenly furious. “You don’t want to do it for us or NNR or Fey? —fine. Stop being so damn selfish and do it for you. Do it for yourself, January Kurata-Tormont.”

  And there it was.

  If he had only himself, who was he to deny something that was for him?

  “We have a minute at most, Jan,” Z sighed, his voice frantic as he wearily glanced towards the door. “If you’re going to go, you have to now.”

  “You guys better not screw this up,” he spat at them, and he knew that they knew that this was his way of a farewell. But he locked eyes with Stel for a moment longer, because he never had the chance to apologize to her. He had snapped at her in a moment of weakness and it wasn’t right, but he had never even had a chance to apologize in a Jan-way of his. So he furrowed his brows, and tried to tell her that he was sorry for what he had said, but not what he had done.

  She just nodded, her own eyes sorrowful as well. “Run.”

  Jan took that advice, and with one last look around the room (because they would be prisoners on Elix, they would be tortured, they might die, and January had to remember this last moment, just in case), he held on to the documents and Elixir as hard as he could and took the advice of Stel Hathaway.

  He ran.

  Fifty-Six

  IT had been less than a minute of January leaving when the sound of gunfire echoed in the hallway. Celine’s flickered up to meet Z’s and Stel’s, the same worry reflected in all of their irises.

  “The people outside; we have to-”

  “No.” Celine broke in. Stel looked momentarily shocked. “We stay here, because they are after us. If it takes them time to find us, then there’s more time for Jan to get to safety.”

  “There are people, out there-” Stel started again, but Z shook his head at her.

  “Celine’s right, Stel. They aren’t going to harm anyone unnecessarily,” he said as calmly as possible, though Celine could hear the unsaid hopefully at the end of his assurance.

  “But-” Stel tried once more, and Celine grabbed the girl’s hand, trying to show her how much Celine understood what Stel felt, because she was feeling it too. But she knew that this choice was the right call and would most likely result the least amount of deaths. The knowledge that she was making calls based on the least amount of deaths would have shocked her only a few months ago, when she picked fights over human life and its value in the very same room she was standing in, but she had changed.

  She had to change.

  She had learned that there was no possible way that she could save everyone, every time, and sometimes, you had to weigh the scales and make the choice that would help the most amount of people. It broke her heart, but someone had to bear it, so she let it be her.

  She bore that heavy weight because that was her duty as a leader, her duty as a protector. This was the only way people could live.

  And now, Stel needed to know the same thing. “It doesn’t make sense for us to play the role of fate, but someone has to. We are given the choice and the power, and we need to use those things to make the calls,” she said, searching Stel’s eyes and seeing what she must have been like when she fought January on the beginning. “Greater good overrules personal feelings sometimes. And you don’t need to understand that all at once, but you do need to learn it.”

  Stel held Celine’s gaze, her eyes like jagged glass Celine was dragged over, because Celine allowed this to happen to her. Without her approval, the mission wouldn’t have happened, and Stel wouldn’t be broken by seeing life in a different world, wouldn’t have to know how it felt to have blood on her hands. The younger girl shook off Celine’s hand, but she didn’t make a move towards the door, instead sitting on her chair.

  “You’ve come a long way,” Z whispered to her, and Celine shot him a look out of the corner of her eye, allowing the warmest smile she could manage for her best friend.

  “I still have quite the while to go, Z,” she told him, her gaze now locked on Stel. There were so many things that Celine had done to indirectly hurt her, and she wasn’t sure if she could forgive herself for that. But she could try to protect her the best she could right now. The sounds from outside the room grew louder, and Celine straightened herself out, addressing both Z and Stel. “Now all we can do is pray that January made it, and try and act as innocent as possible. We did good here, don’t forget that.”

  Stel opened her mouth, but just that moment, the door sprang open, three Immortales rushing in, guns drawn.

  “Hands up, and make no movements,” one of them demanded, while the other two quickly approached them with gleaming metal cuffs.

  “We’ve done nothing. You have no proof that we’ve done anything,” Z reasoned, but the Immortale near him, grasped his wrists easily, clamping the metal aground his hands as he fought against the binding.

  “We’ll find it soon enough,” the same one who spoke earlier demanded. “Now hands out, girls. Try not to make a struggle, and you’ll get out as swiftly as those we have already encountered.”

  Celine quickly darted backwards, but she was caught as soon as she tried to escape, the cuffs on her tighter than they needed to be. Gritting her teeth in pain, she saw out of the concern of her eye that Stel was putting up a similar fight, though she too was subdued much quicker than Celine would have liked.

  “You can’t just kidnap us without a reason and proper proof,” Celine called out to the man who spoke, who’s back was facing her as he examined the room. “It’s a breach of the Treaty.”

  “You really think the Treaty will save you?” the man tsked, his eyes gleaming dangerously. “That’s pathetic. I have people searching the entire Palace to find what you’ve taken.

  Celine felt blood roar in her ears as she realized that January might be discovered after all. “We’ve taken nothing, and you-”

  “Shut her up,” the man ordered without batting an eye, and Celine didn’t have time to process the words as a knee connected deeply with her gut, leaving her breathless, and she felt the familiar constraint in her chest before her coughing fits. She couldn’t afford to look weak in front of the Immortales, she couldn’t bear knowing that she gave them a bit more of an advantage over them, but her knees gave out as she slid to the floor, hacking
up blood.

  “Cel,” Z breathed through his teeth, only loud enough for her to hear, but she shook her head slightly. Z had to know that this was not the time to fight.

  Struggling to catch her breath and unable to wipe away the blood after, she watched with fury as the man stood in front of her, looking as if he were categorizing this information to use it against her later. “Interesting,” he mused, and Celine wanted to wipe that smile off his face with a satisfying punch, but the sting in her wrists reminded her that she was rendered useless at the moment. “You were wondering about our lack of proof, Miss Hollingsworth? Here’s all the proof we need,” he said, tugging out Stel’s chin to see her defiant stare. Celine didn’t even have time to wonder how on earth he knew their names, because something was happening right now that they clearly did not foresee.

  “Captain Netherwell,” Stel spat, clearly knowing who this man was.

  “We had an imposter among us the entire time,” he said coldly, dropping Stel’s chin to turn back towards Celine. “And there is your proof. You mortals broke the Treaty first.”

  “That’s still not enough,” Z growled from beside her.

  “We’ll be the judge of that,” Captain Netherwell said. “Now come on; we’re going outside.”

  “We aren’t moving,” Stel said, and the Captain looked somewhat bored.

  “Let me repeat,” he started, and all three Immortales in the room drew out their guns so each Strategist had a gun on them. “Outside, now.”

  …

  “Think we’ve bought enough time yet, Hollingsworth?” Stel asked cuttingly as they walked side-by-side towards the boat that they were ordered to board. Thankfully, there was no Immortale in close enough range to hear Stel’s words, but they were still being watched, so Celine only cut Stel a sharp side-glance. Stel continued on, not daring to look at the Head Strategist beside her.

  “What the hell is happening?” Z asked. The boat was drawing closer, and Celine felt her heart hammer out of her chest. The group of Immortales pushed closer towards them, making the three Strategists move faster.

  “I don’t know,” Celine responded truthfully. All she knew was that things weren’t looking good.

  …

  “Did you find anything?” Celine asked, feeling proud when she saw the disappointment in Captain Netherwell’s eyes. The three of them were collected in front of where the ship was docked, and Celine was still unsure of what was in store for them. They were clearly taking them to Elix, at least, that’s what Celine thought. She never had too much faith in the Treaty, but she at least thought that it could hold some weight, but apparently not.

  But here a group of Immortales were, storming the Royal Palace and taking 3 prisoners without any real justification. At least they can’t get the Elixir.

  He offered no response, instead moving towards the Immortale behind him. “Did you get everything ready Clauthers?”

  Clauthers nodded. “General Kessia might not-”

  “I wouldn’t worry about that. We need to get to Elix, through a different route so the little impure king doesn’t see us. We’ll need a distraction, and this is quite the thing that will capture his attention.”

  There was something in his words that set Celine on edge, and Z clearly felt it too if his tense shoulder brushing up against Celine was any indication. Celine had no idea what was going through Stel’s mind, she was too withdrawn for Celine to really get a reading off of her (and that was always Fey’s forte anyway), but Celine was sure that she knew that something was up as well.

  And then Netherwell commanded for another soldier to ‘light the match’ and Celine realized what was happening.

  The small flame dropped from the soldier’s hand, igniting a long path that led into the palace, and within seconds, Celine knew that the Palace wouldn’t stand against the flames. It was spreading too quickly and too far, and there were people inside. January was inside. “No,” she gasped, as the flames licked the place she had grown to call home, slowly but surely consuming it.

  Her head tilted to the side, and he caught the look of wide-eyes frozen terror on Z’s face, tears forming in his eyes. The fire. Celine realized that this would look too familiar to Z, and would remind him of the fire that destroyed his home, his former life. Before she could make a move to comfort her friend, the captain spoke up, a malicious grin in his voice.

  “Knock them out,” Netherwell commanded, and the sight of everything burning was the last thing Celine saw before darkness enveloped her.

  Fifty-Seven

  Z WISHED he could say that he at least had the chance to see Elix since he had the misfortune of being there, but no such luck.

  He woke up in a dim room, feeling as though he got clobbered by a brick about 7 trillion times (and there was no way to prove that he hadn’t been), which meant that Z didn’t even get to see the architecture in the city. If he was getting kidnapped and held hostage on a hellhole, couldn’t he at least enjoy the architectural feats?

  Apparently not.

  “Oh, good, you’re awake,” a voice called, and Z wearily looked up to see a young woman, sitting primly across from him. Her blonde hair fell perfectly with an ease only in competition to the locks of Celine Hollingsworth herself, and her eyes were blue, bright and weighty. And even though Z had no previous experience with Immortales, he was pretty sure she wasn’t as young as she seemed to look. “I was waiting to speak with you. Out of everyone, you are the most fascinating to me.”

  “Pardon?” Z asked, his mouth feeling like cotton.

  “Your whole backstory, full of mystery and unknowns. Knowing just what you were put through, and how you pushed through. An excellent demonstration of resilience from a mortal, I have to say.”

  “Thanks,” he wryly spat. “Now why am I tied to a chair?” Z asked, trying his best to clear his mind of the fog that clouded his thoughts.

  “You’ll find out soon enough. I’m General Kessia, in case you didn’t know, and you’re Z-”

  “Just Z, please,” he managed through gritted teeth, his mind almost instantly clearing knowing how close Kessia had come to saying his birth name. The same name that he hadn’t been addressed with for over half a decade.

  Z held onto his name like it was the last shard to his past life, which it was, in a way. His family, his life, those simple days before a burning city all were filled with his name, light like a bird, soaring and freeing. And if he ever heard it from a different mouth, from someone who wasn’t part of that life, he was worried that both of his worlds would come crashing together, and he would be left with nothing in the dust.

  “Z; of course. We need to get down to business,”

  “Where are the others?” he asked, purposefully not thinking of what was to come. He had enough days full of torturing, when Millinde Flourish would come into his room of solitary confinement when he wasn’t forced to train, her heels clicking, and a needle coming too close to his skin, blinding agony following close behind.

  Kessia, smoothed out her already creaseless pantsuit, her eyes much too calm for a person who was going to do what Z knew she was going to do. “They’re in rooms beside you. Wanted to keep you close, but separate enough so that the screams of the other wouldn’t rattle the remaining two. We wouldn’t want that, would we?”

  “No,” Z darkly agreed, focusing more on his internal demons that were raging inside of him, bringing up memories that he had worked countless nights trying to earth. He wanted to be rid of them, but Z of all people should’ve known that there was no escaping the past. But reliving it? Z’s hands were bound and he wouldn’t be able to pull out his lighter, to push his demons to bay before they consumed him. Without the lighter, Z wasn’t sure if he could take it- no.

  One second at a time, he reminded himself.

  “I need answers, Z. A possession of the Immortales, one important to us, has recently gone missing. Do you know anything?”

  Z gritted his teeth together and pressed his eyes shut, sucking
in a deep breath, preparing himself for the feeling of a syringe digging his forearm. Instead, he felt sharp metal scratch down his neck, starting at his Adam’s apple and stopping right below his collarbone. “Talking will make things hurt less, Z,” she hissed, tapping the skin where her finger was resting. “I really don’t want to bring back certain memories of yours, but without your cooperation, we’ll have to resort to certain methods I’m sure you won’t appreciate.”

  “Try me,” Z spat, opening his eyes to meet Kessia’s baby blue ones head on. There was no escaping his demons, so at least he could try and defeat them.

  “Remember those words when you want to answer my question, Z. Medical kit,” she told one of the people behind her, though her eyes were fixed on Z.

  A syringe was offered to her, and she grinned, removing her finger from Z’s exposed skin to run her metal-gloved hand along it longingly. “I think we’ll save this one for later. We’ll show Z our Immortale hospitality first. Hand me the scalpel, please, and keep him in place.”

  Z flailed about, protesting, but unknown hands grabbed his shoulders and slammed his head back, holding him tightly against the chair he was seated in.

  And Z watched as the sharp blade approached the place where Kessia’s finger was and pain exploded through his body as she pressed it into his skin.

  The sight of watching the metal disappear into his swarthy skin almost made him throw up.

  The agony was consuming, despite the fact that the wound was only an inch deep, but Z was doing a pretty good job of staying quiet. Then, Kessia twisted the blade, and Z let out a strangled yell, and he cursed under his breath as Kessia slid the blade out, pressing a towel to where he was bleeding.

  “Any answers?” she asked, her eyes darkening, and Z could see the rage in them. The lighting left the two of them in brightness, with darkness shrouding everything else and the sharp brightness highlighted her full cheeks, making her look more like a wraith than an actual person.