The Iron Bells

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The Iron Bells Page 21

by Jeanette Battista


  ****

  It’s barely dawn when I set off for the underground tunnels. I’m several hours ahead of schedule for the cell meeting that’s supposed to detail the mission to the Gate, but I’m right on time for a serious talk with Ryland. I’m not sure either of us is going to enjoy it.

  I hurry down empty streets, a paper to go cup of tea clutched in my hand. I crack an enormous yawn for one of the video cameras, knowing I look like nothing more than a bored teenager off to a job at far too early in the morning. I walk down an alley bordering an disreputable looking grocer’s and press the buzzer for deliveries. The door slides open, and I flash the sign that I need to get through. From the cellar, I’m able to make my way through the tunnels.

  I head to Ryland’s office first. I see him there, his head resting in one hand, as he flips through some papers. No one is with him. I knew getting up at such an ungodly hour would be worth it. I wrap on the open door and wait for him to beckon me in. When he looks up, I almost back away. His eyes are puffy from lack of sleep and the dark circles beneath them make him look like he’s been punched repeatedly in the face.

  I ignore the stab of guilt and walk inside, closing the door behind me. Ryland’s mouth sags into a frown, his eyes darting to the now-closed door. He shuffles all of the pages in his hands together and sets them aside. “I don’t have a lot of time right now, Amaranth,” he says, and even his voice sounds tired.

  There’s a part of me that wishes I could spare him this confrontation, but I know that’s not possible--not if I want to get what I want. It has to be now, before the meeting. “We need to talk.” When he opens his mouth, I cut him off. “It won’t take long. In fact, I’ll talk. You just listen.”

  Ryland closes his mouth with a snap, his eyes narrow. I’m poking a bear and I know it, but there’s nothing to be done about it. He won’t let me go on the Gate mission otherwise. “You’re putting me on a team. I’m going to the Gate.”

  He pushes himself to his feet, anger and a sort of bone-deep weariness on his face. “You gave me your word.” His voice is low.

  “So did you.” I shoot back.

  Confusion muddles his features. “What are you talking about?” He waves a hand, as if that will silence me. “I promised your mother I would look after you. You are not going anywhere near it.”

  I swallow the hard lump that’s grown in my throat. How dare he bring my mother into this? How dare he try to use that guilt against me, especially after what he’s done to Patrick. My body feels like it might burst into fire with all the rage it’s trying to contain. “Hypocrite!” I spit the word at him. “You seem to have no problem sending me into tunnels to fight your battles, so how is the Gate any different?” I’m not going to play Patrick, not yet. Not unless Ryland forces me to.

  Ryland steps closer, looming over me. If he thinks physical intimidation is going to work, he’s clearly not been paying attention. I’m too angry to care. He grabs me by my arms, but I just stare into his eyes, daring him to do more. “You have no idea…”

  I break in, hissing through his words. “My mother would want me to go, and you KNOW it. So stop using her as an excuse! She died for the Resistance!” She'd expect me help, and to watch out for Patrick if I can.

  “And I don’t want you to do the same thing!” he shouts in my face.

  I jerk away from him. “You can’t stop me. I’m a big girl now and I can make my own decisions. And you, Ryland, are not my father.”

  He drops my arms as if I’ve stabbed him with one of my blades. The light dims a bit in his eyes. I’ve hurt him. A part of me feels awful, like I’m some kind of a monster, but a larger part feels vindicated. He deserves to hurt.

  "There's something you don't know." Ryland sags back, off balance. I can see him searching for the words, and I think I know what he is going to say. It’s why his voice sounds dead.

  "What?" I don’t want to make this easier on him, to tell him what I already know.

  "One of the…there’s a demon…." He looks away as if he doesn't know what to say.

  I finish the admission for him. "It’s Patrick." My voice sounds cold in my ears and I wonder what I must look like to him.

  He looks thunderstruck. "How?"

  "I followed you after you yelled at me and found the room. Remember? From all those years ago." He looks like I stuck one of my blades through him. Again. "And I found Patrick."

  "Amaranth, I'm…."

  "Is that why you didn't want me on this mission? Were you hoping that I wouldn't find out?" My voice rises with my anger. I trusted him and he betrayed it when he locked that demon in Patrick's body.

  He’s suddenly right in front of me, pushing me backwards. He leans into me, holding me against the wall with his body. It makes me uncomfortable, a little scared even, especially when he looks so angry. I glare at him, swallowing my fear. For as much as he betrayed me, I know Ry would never hurt me.

  He shouts in my face. "We didn't have a choice, A. I wish we could have found someone--anyone--else, but we have to work with what we have. We're running out of time!"

  And I shout right back. "It's Patrick, Ry. You know him! And you know what it does to people to have a demon in them. How on earth can you justify doing that to him?" To me? Again?

  His eyes widen and flare with light. "Would you sentence us all to death, Amaranth, for the good of one person?"

  I rear back, my head striking the stone with a dull thud. Ryland continues on in a voice pitched for my ears alone. "The Inquisition is moving in. It's only a matter of time before they root us out--and they're doing it in every city we have a cell. We need to close that gate, to at least stop more demons from coming through. And if one soul has to suffer to save the souls of millions, that's a price I can live with."

  I glare at him. "I can't."

  "If it wasn't Patrick, you could," he shoots back.

  I rear back in anger. "Maybe I could," I hiss at him. "But that doesn't matter. It is Patrick."

  His eyes are hard when they catch mine. "The needs of the many, Amaranth." His mouth pulls up in a hard line. "They outweigh those of the few. We've always believed this. It's why we do what we do."

  "Depends on the few," I shoot back.

  "Patrick is just one of the weapons that we can bring to bear. And I will use ANY weapon I have!”

  His voice softens. “That's why I didn't want you on this mission. You're too close to this." He sighs and his eyes lose their hardness. "I wanted to save you the pain of it. You've already seen what happens. I didn't want to put you through it again."

  "And you don't trust me."

  Ryland shakes his head. "It's not that. I don't trust him—the demon." He pulls back farther, to look at me head-on. "You're vulnerable, Amaranth. Your friendship with Patrick is a weakness that thing can exploit."

  Too late, I think, but I keep it to myself. Instead I say, "I can handle it."

  "Amaranth, please, I'm trying to—"

  I interrupt him. "Don't you think it should be my choice, what I can go through?" Don't you think it should have been Patrick's choice? Just because you care for someone doesn't give them the right to make decisions for you. To take away your options.

  Ryland steps away from with a frown on his face. "It's done. You're not getting near him again."

  I stalk past him, done with this conversation, with the tunnels, with him for a while.

  I need space to think. I pause though when he speaks once more. "Amaranth, I'm sorry, but you can't for a moment think that Pat's still in there. You have to be prepared."

  I walk away slowly, weighing Ryland's words on the balances in my head. Demons sense weakness and exploit it. I will need to be cautious. But he's wrong. I believe Trick. Patrick is in there. And I intend to bring him back.

 

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