The Enhanced Series Boxset

by T. C. Edge

  “I know you would. I don’t know how easy it will be, but I will try to see if I can find out for you.”

  My face begins to glow.

  “I wasn’t asking…” I begin.

  It’s true. I was just talking, sharing. I didn’t expect this.

  “You don’t have to. You’re doing plenty already. I don’t want you distracted by finding out about your parents. Look, I’ll see if I can dig anything up. But I’d caution against getting your hopes up, Brie. I’ll do what I can, but not at the risk of attracting any attention, and not to the detriment of the mission.”

  I smile, despite his words that are aimed to douse my hope.

  “Thanks, Adryan. I really appreciate everything you’re doing.”

  “No, Brie. It’s you who we all need to thank. The rest of us…well, we’ve been in this game a while now. For you to come straight in and be asked to do so much. It’s not fair on you. So, if I can help, I will. I always will.”

  I don’t know what it is. His words. The wine. The look in his eyes, staring at me and refusing to leave. Probably a mixture of it all, some alluring potion.

  But whatever it is, it draws me forwards. I stand from my sofa and move over to his. He watches me with some interest as I come, laying my wine glass on the coffee table and sitting beside him.

  I lean forward, and kiss him on the cheek. It all happens fast, without any thought process to guide me. It’s nothing, really, but it leaves a little flutter in my heart as my pink, wine-stained lips touch to his pale skin, cleanly shaven but with a hint of stubble accumulated over the course of the day.

  And then I’m back again. Back on my sofa. Back with my glass of wine in hand. Sitting across from him as if nothing happened.

  And really, nothing did happen. Just a peck on the cheek to say thanks. Thanks for helping me, for being so kind. Thanks for this evening, the food and wine and relaxed atmosphere that I could never have expected here, on this side of the wall.

  But even though nothing really happened, it felt like something did. And I see it in his eyes too. A little light, shining in the far distance, like a campfire flashing on a frozen horizon.

  He smiles, and so do I.

  And sipping our wine together, our conversation resumes.

  61

  Time flies in that well-ordered apartment. A place of straight lines and sharp edges and such a bare splash of colour, provided by Adryan for my personal relief.

  We speak for a while longer, learning more about each other. And despite the fact that it’s me who needs to know more about him, he still appears interested in my own past, asking questions and studying my answers, a habit that he’s clearly developed working for the Institute of Human Relations.

  As the evening grows late, however, my mind turns inexorably towards my mission. As of yet, so few details have been given to me regarding exactly how I’m supposed to carry it out.

  First off, I want to know how I’m going to get myself face to face with Director Cromwell himself. As far as I know it, he more or less keeps to the top of the High Tower, along with the rest of the Consortium, ruling from up on his high perch.

  “He does,” Adryan tells me. “On occasion he may descend a little lower, as you saw during the ceremony. However, for the most part, none of the Consortium leave the summit of the High Tower.”

  “Right, so how will I get up there?”

  “As yet, I can’t be certain. That’s something we’re going to have to figure out together, only once we’re married and living there.”

  I roll my eyes. I’d hoped that he’d have some definitive answer. That, perhaps, he’d know of Cromwell’s schedule, and would be able to initiate a situation where I’d be able to find him alone. Not so.

  However, I make sure to not let the minor setback derail me. One step at a time, Brie, one step at a time…

  “And, where in the High Tower will we live once we’re married?”

  I no longer cringe at the word ‘marriage’, or the thought of living with Adryan. This evening has laid to rest some, if not all, of my reservations. And, well, my promise to Zander isn’t going anywhere. There’s no space inside me now for doubts.

  “The residential quarters are generally situated between the 50th and 90th floors,” he says. “The lower floors are utilised for working purposes, while anything above floor 90 is reserved for high ranking city officials. The Consortium live and operate in the penthouse. I have heard their quarters are quite staggering, with the top floor split into 12 distinct residences around the edge of the building, with the central space used for meetings and operations.”

  “So, the lowest our quarters can be will be floor 50?” I ask. “Where do you live now?”

  “Currently I reside on the 71st floor. And yes, we will most likely be provided with quarters on floor 50 or thereabouts.”

  Of course. The lowest possible rung, given who I am.

  Or who they think I am, at least.

  “And where do you work?”

  “The Institute of Human Relations is on the 42nd floor.”

  “And, what about the Savants who live outside of the High Tower? Do they work inside it?”

  “For the most part, yes. The majority of Savants live in the High Tower and work there too. It used to be that all Savants lived in the High Tower, but our expanding numbers have forced others to live just beyond it.”

  “So I’m going to be allowed to live there, and yet there are other Savants who can’t? That seems odd.”

  “Well, as I told you, it’s only because you’ll be marrying me. The work I’ve done for the IHR has afforded me the privilege of staying in the High Tower.”

  “It’s ironic really isn’t it,” I say.

  He frowns lightly.

  “How so?”

  “Well, the work you’re talking about, I assume, is that which has served Director Cromwell and the Consortium well. You know, helping them determine how to treat the Unenhanced, suppressing emotions and all that.”

  “Yes,” he says. “It’s been valuable for them.”

  “And there’s the irony. You’ve kind of helped them determine this path, and now you’re trying to stop it. And the fact that you’ve contributed is the very reason that you’re able to live in the High Tower after marrying me, which is the only way I’d actually be able to carry out my mission. Surely you see the irony there?”

  A smile gradually dawns on his lips, and he begins to nod.

  “Yes, you’re right. I do see it. I never thought about it like that.”

  “I guess they’re not as smart as they think they are. But anyway, back to my mission. So, let’s say we’re living on the 50th floor. How will I access the floors above me?”

  “With difficulty,” comes Adryan’s swift response. “The different levels are accessible to specific individuals. The High Tower runs on order, and no one is permitted to step beyond the boundaries of the limits they’ve been assigned.”

  “So, what do you mean? You can only access certain floors depending on where you live and what you do?”

  “Yes, exactly. I, for example, am permitted to go no higher than the 71st floor as it currently stands. The lifts in the building operate via thumbprint and hand-scans. The same as on the lock to this very apartment. When you enter a lift, you press your thumb to the scanner. It then reads your print and scans the structure of your hand. Then, your specific access will be granted, and you’ll be able to go no higher than the limits to what you’ve been assigned.”

  “Right, so for me, I’ll get access to, say, the 50th floor? How exactly will I go higher?”

  “Well, that’s exactly why it’s only you who can do the job, Brie. When you fully develop your powers, you’ll be able to manipulate others to give you access to where you need to go. You are entirely unique. No one else could possibly do this.”

  A flash of nerves vibrate through me, setting my pulse sprinting for a few beats. So far, I’ve had such sparse training for my mental abilities, and
my progress has been far from speedy.

  “Is there a time limit to all of this?” I ask tentatively. “I get the impression that things need to move quickly.”

  “They are moving quickly. You’ve seen it down on the streets. The Fanatics’ attacks, the proliferation of the Con-Cops and City Guard. Cromwell is making his move, and he’s speeding things along much faster than before. Once that ball gets rolling, it may be impossible to stop.”

  “So you’re saying I need to develop my powers quickly then. And our marriage too, that needs to happen fast, right?”

  “Oh, it will,” he says, nodding. “As I told you before, I can expedite all of that. It’s not uncommon for the courting process to last for only a few dates before marriages can be applied for.”

  “Applied for? You have to apply?”

  “Yes, hence your need to find out about me and my life. Only after you have completed the test and confirmed your commitment to marrying up will you be granted approval from the Council of Matrimony.”

  “Well, I feel I’m getting to know you quite well now.”

  He smiles.

  “Good. However, your natural inclination is to doubt Inner Haven and this world of ours. You have a suspicious mind, Brie, and the Council of Matrimony don’t exactly like that sort of thinking. It isn’t conducive to integrating yourself here, so you’ll have to do better to convince them that you actually want to join us.”

  “So how do they do that? Do they read minds again?”

  “They will do if they think you’re lying to them. If that’s the case, your powers will be even more important. You may need to manipulate their own cognition, and get them to sign you off.”

  A sigh escapes me.

  “Looks like I’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  He nods.

  “You certainly do. Tonight has been fruitful, I think. I’m sure your brother will want to speed your training now, however.”

  “It has been…fruitful,” I say with a coy smile. “I’ve enjoyed it.”

  “I’m glad.” He returns the look, before turning his eyes to the simple clock on the wall. “You look tired, though. You should get home, get some rest.”

  He’s noticed the heaviness of my eyes. They feel like they’re drawing together now, the power of fatigue – quite possibly intensified by the wine – starting to take me down.

  Yet the mention of home has an effect I don’t expect. It doesn’t draw in a good feeling at all. Not like it once might have done.

  Everything about it is different now. Drum doesn’t live there anymore. Two boys have been killed. Tess hates me. Mrs Carmichael is always watching, always worrying about what might happen next.

  It’s become a place where I merely wait. Wait for my next instruction from Zander. Wait for Adryan to invite me back to Inner Haven. Wait for some other news to reach my ears, for some new horror to have befallen the city.

  Truly, it doesn’t feel like home at all anymore.

  And so, the strangest of words spill from my mouth, soft and uncertain.

  “Could I stay here instead?” I ask.

  Adryan clearly didn’t expect such a question. He’s probably no more surprised than I am by it.

  “You want to stay…here? In the Court House?”

  I turn my eyes to the sofa. It’s easily large enough for me to sleep on, and comfortable too.

  “I could just sleep here. I’d only need a blanket.”

  “That’s highly irregular, Brie,” says Adryan. “Although, it’s not entirely unheard of for courting couples to stay the night here, on occasion. Of course, not on their second date…”

  “I see. Yeah, we don’t want to raise any suspicion. Forget I asked.”

  “No, it’s OK. No suspicion will be raised. I doubt anyone will know. I do have to go to work early tomorrow morning, though. I’d have to take you back to the western gate quite early…”

  I shake my head, rethinking things.

  “I’m just being silly, and lazy,” I say. “I should go now.”

  “You really don’t have to. It’s late. If you stay a little longer, we could talk some more.”

  A strange reversal appears to have taken place. Now it’s him trying to persuade me to stay. It appears even Savants can be manipulated by reverse psychology.

  Not that that’s what I’m doing.

  “I guess, that does sound nice,” I say. “And I don’t actually have a pass yet to travel through Outer Haven after curfew. They might catch me.”

  “Exactly. Best stay here this evening then. More wine?”

  I settle back onto the sofa, sinking into the soft fabric. He doesn’t need me to answer. Within moments my glass is being filled up once more.

  “I must say, I’m surprised you enjoy wine so much, Adryan,” I say.

  I’m also surprised that I like it so much myself. So far, I’ve been forced to drink a variety of alcoholic beverages over these last few weeks. Red wine has become my firm favourite.

  “To be honest, I rather am too. I never drink to this extent. I may have a sore head tomorrow.”

  “Well, I’m sure you have some powerful painkillers to sort that out,” I say.

  “Yes, I do. And a good thing too. I don’t exactly want to go to work in such a state. It would be very unbecoming of a Savant to do so.”

  I chuckle at the image that conjures in my head. I can just imagine all these robotic people, with their dead eyes and droning voices, getting on with their days without so much as an inkling of a smile, no joy at all.

  Adryan no longer fits that image. He sticks out of it like a sore thumb, his countenance brighter, his ability to portray emotions far more developed. His ability to actually feel them, too, to some degree at least, is far different to what I expected.

  And so, once more we turn our minds to less serious things, moving away from the topic of the High Tower, and my mission, and the prospect of murder.

  Instead, other topics flourish, our aspirations laid bare. I tell him of my perpetual yearning to see more of the world, to walk in the high passes of the mountains, to wander through woods that aren’t so swamped with lethal toxins.

  To learn to swim, perhaps, and put my horrible experience in the underwater river to bed. To paddle through blue lakes under the warming blanket of the sun, and relax on the shoreline without a care in the world.

  It’s an idyllic dream that’s lived long within me, blooming each time I’ve looked upon the world beyond the city. A dream, however, that I’ve always known will never come true. I’ve never been so naïve as to believe it would.

  Adryan doesn’t share such a vision. Yet he too has his own ambitions for the world, and this city in particular. To see it freed from the iron grip of his own people, and for power to be spread more evenly, more fairly.

  In the end, all he appears to want is to see diversity prosper. For all the different types of people in this city to continue to thrive and expand as we spread out from its walls.

  To him, a world of only Savants and enslaved Enhanced is as unpalatable as it is to me. And his mission, his life goal, is to help ensure that the vision of Director Cromwell isn’t allowed to succeed.

  As we talk, I feel my eyes slipping lower. A drowsiness burgeons, teaming with the wine to speed me into a premature slumber.

  Try as I might to stay awake, I’m unable to do so. As Adryan moves off to the bathroom, I tell myself I’ll shut my eyes for a few moments, let my lids rest before he returns.

  They don’t reopen. Relaxing into the comfortable sofa, I drift off into a dreamless sleep.

  And when I wake, the city has lit once more.

  62

  It’s not uncommon for me to wake in unfamiliar surroundings.

  The room in the training house after I passed out at the bachelor ball. The shoreline outside of the city after I’d been spat out over the waterfall.

  Today, it’s another foreign world that greets my eyes as they crack open. It takes me a moment to realise that I’m
in the bedroom of the apartment, light spilling in through the windows, the bedside table dressed up with a glass of water and two little white pills.

  With an ache to my head, and a dryness to my throat, I quickly take up the medicinal gifts and shove them down my throat, gulping at the glass until all the water has vanished.

  Then, I climb from the bed, note that I’m still fully dressed, and drag my limbs back down the corridor and into the main living area. There, I find Adryan standing beside the sofa, pulling on a shirt over his lean and well-honed frame.

  I avert my eyes and step back. He hears the movement.

  “Ah, Brie,” he says, looking over as he begins to work on his buttons. “Did you sleep OK?”

  “Er, good thanks,” I say a little awkwardly. I step forward again and glance back to his athletic form. “How did I get in the bedroom?”

  “I carried you,” he says casually, tucking his shirt in and reaching for his jacket. “How’s your head?”

  “A bit sore. Thanks for the pills. So, you carried me?”

  “Yeah, you fell asleep on the sofa. I wasn’t going to let you sleep there. You need more rest than I do, Brie. I considered that the bed would best give it to you.”

  “Um, thanks. That was nice.”

  “As long as you slept well, that’s the most important thing. Good timing, though. I need to get to work, so we should get going.”

  I quickly use the bathroom and do my best to swill the taste of wine from my mouth, rubbing my lips clear of any red stains. I’m starting to learn that alcohol is a rather tricky entity, often wonderful when you’re drinking it, but quite the opposite the following day once it has lingered too long in your veins.

  Feeling a little queasy, and probably looking a little ragged too, I creep along with Adryan to his car and slip inside. Passing through the city, I note the early morning rush of people, pouring from their homes and marching around the streets like worker ants returning to the nest.