by T. C. Edge
“Just one should be fine for a woman of her size. We just have to get her to swallow it.”
I turn to Woolf, who listens calmly to the conversation.
“Right, I’ll open her mouth, you shove it down her throat.”
I march straight for her. Adryan follows behind. My fingers head directly for Agent Woolf’s mouth, but stop short as she speaks.
“You don’t need to force me,” she says smoothly. “I will swallow it of my own accord.”
Adryan and I share a glance. Then he shrugs as Woolf opens her mouth, before popping the pill right onto her tongue. She tips her head back, swallows, and then opens her mouth up wide to show us that the drug has been ingested.
I’m sure to perform a more thorough inspection before I’m satisfied. The fact that it’s probably terribly uncomfortable for her is an additional benefit that gives me some pleasure.
“How long until it takes effect?” I ask, withdrawing my fingers from Woolf’s mouth, my invasion concluded.
“About quarter of an hour,” says Adryan.
“And how long do the effects last?”
“Hours. Enough to get her to comply.”
“OK. Keep a watch on her while I shower and change. I’ll, um, fold up the clothes for you.”
Right now, I’m still dressed up in his first wife’s clothing. I’ll be glad to get out of them to be honest. It feels wrong wearing her things in front of him.
He nods and begins his vigil as I quickly move off to shower and change. With an ample supply of anti-inflammatory healing lotion applied to my neck, I dress in my usual blue pants, shirt, and sweater, and return to find Adryan and Agent Woolf in complete silence.
Looking upon her mouth, I see that the tape has been reapplied.
“I didn’t like the sound of her voice,” remarks Adryan.
Clearly, she’d attempted to engage him in conversation, perhaps trying to see if she still had some dominion over his mind by issuing a verbal order. She doesn’t. I made sure of that last night.
By now, however, the drugs should be taking effect. Telling Adryan to stay out of reach of her sight, I tentatively remove the tape, revealing those black pits. Blinking a couple of times in the sudden light, she focuses in on me, her eyelids relaxing a little and dropping a little down over her eyes.
Then, taking a breath, I creep carefully into her consciousness to find that it’s dulled and blunted, a mounting mist seeming to hang around the place. With a rare apprehension I start to first search her memories and thoughts, just to get a feel for how open her pathways have become.
I find her to be almost as cerebrally obsequious as an Unenhanced, her mind clearly as vast and remarkable as other Savants and yet, right now, darkened and more easily influenced.
Taking the plunge, I test her out by setting an order that would otherwise never take hold were she fully in charge of her faculties. I feel it drift into her subconscious before withdrawing, unbinding her hands, moving to the kitchen, and fetching a sharp knife.
Returning to my captive, I hand her the blade. Behind me, Adryan asks: “What on earth are you doing?” His words are understandably frayed.
I don’t answer. Instead, I merely kneel before her as she sits on the sofa with the razor-sharp blade sitting in her palm. I hold my arms behind my back and lift my chin to reveal my neck, opening myself up for attack.
If she should want to strike, now would be the time.
She doesn’t do anything. Not to me, at least. Instead, with the blade in her right hand, she begins gently slicing cuts across her left forearm, one after another, until she’s completed the three that I set her to perform.
Adryan watches in silence until I retake possession of the knife, stand, and turn to him.
“She’s ready,” is all I say.
“You…made her do that?”
I nod.
“Her mind is misted and hazy. She’ll do anything I need from her.”
“Good. Then let’s get this done.”
Together, we set about unbinding Agent Woolf’s legs and wiping her left forearm clean of blood. Adryan quickly applies some healing lotion, before adding some bandages to prevent further bleeding. Then, he rolls down the left sleeve of her shirt and returns the forearm interface to its rightful position.
Before he turns it back on, I set an order into her mind to prevent her from using it.
Don’t touch that interface, I command. Not unless given a strict verbal instruction by me to do so. Nod if you comply.
She nods.
With her fully back in working order, I slip back inside her mind.
You will escort me down to the atrium and out of the High Tower. If anyone addresses you, tell them you’re busy. If they draw attention to anything unusual, tell them everything is fine. From now on, you will submit to all of my verbal commands. Nod if you comply.
Once more, she nods.
I turn to Adryan.
“She’s ready. I’ll get her to Zander and be back as soon as I can.”
He comes forward and pulls me into a hug. Woolf stands stationary nearby.
“Good luck, Brie,” he says, dropping a kiss to my cheek. “We’re near the end now.”
I withdraw from his clutches, despite wishing to stay within them. And turning again to the door, I swill in a gulp of air and begin walking towards the corridor.
And to my side, my enemy comes too.
26
I don’t feel nervous during the journey down through the building. I have no time to even consider the pacing of my heart and the slight tingle in my muscles.
Stepping out into the atrium, our presence draws no attention whatsoever, the morning still young and the foyer still crawling with the daily influx of Savants who live just beyond this colossal structure.
We pass straight through and out without hindrance. I make sure to keep a single step behind Agent Woolf in order to keep in line with etiquette. When we reach the outside, and I feel the warming rays of the sun caressing my skin, I whisper a single word to Woolf to further test her compliance.
“Stop,” I say.
She pulls to an immediate halt, and I move up alongside her. Ahead, the streets are still under the careful watch of the City Guard, each path away from the High Tower obstructed by a security blockade.
“When we reach the barrier,” I whisper. “Tell them you’re escorting me to my academy in the western quarter. Nod if you comply.”
She nods.
“OK, continue.”
She continues walking, and I continue to follow a little way behind, until we come upon the force of City Guards blocking the main route west from the High Tower. Agent Woolf’s security clearance, I know, will be sufficient to present her easy passage beyond the cordon. These men will be well aware of who she is.
They do as I expected, and briefly ask her where she’s headed. She follows my orders exactly, her response typically curt and aloof. No further queries are posed, and the men stand back and allow us immediate passage onto the streets of Inner Haven.
Once we’re suitably far away, I tell her to stop again. She does so without hesitation.
“Use your interface to call for your vehicle,” I tell her.
Her right hand creeps towards the interface on her left forearm, and she begins tapping away, summoning her car. I watch closely to make sure she does nothing else, ready to step in should she call for help.
She doesn’t, and only a couple of minutes later, her blacked out vehicle comes cruising down the street towards us. It stops ahead, and I whisper for her to open the door. She does so, and in we go.
Only once we’re safely inside do I feel the tension in me begin to ease. So far, everything has gone perfectly, which perhaps lends itself to the fact that I’ve become quite proficient at utilising my powers.
Then again, my natural scepticism can’t help but question the simplicity of this mission. Somehow, despite my orders being followed without complication, I can’t help but wonder whether
Woolf has something up her sleeve.
As such, I turn to her in the privacy of the vehicle and order her to look directly at me. Then, with her cold, black eyes staring forward in a manner that I once found threatening, I begin searching her thought patterns for some anomaly, some deception, some hint that she’s trying to trick me.
I find nothing. Mostly, her mind is a blank canvas for me to paint upon, under my total and utter control. I nod to myself, satisfied that she has no hidden motive, and tell her to send the car through the western gate.
Her voice drips into the quiet, uncomfortable interior of the car, issuing the appropriate command, and we begin working our way westwards towards the gateway to Outer Haven.
As we go, I shut my eyes and disappear into the darkness of my psyche. There, I call out for my brother, and hear him respond without delay.
I’m coming, Zander, I say. I have Woolf under my command, and we’re in her car heading west. We should be with you shortly.
Good, comes his reply. Look for a quiet alley towards the north of district 6. I’ll be waiting…and watching. I’ll see you soon, sis.
We work through the city, nearing the Outer Spiral, and my sense of anticipation grows. One final hurdle – the western gate – needs to be jumped before I find myself on the streets of Outer haven once more.
It’s only been barely a week since I last crossed that threshold, and yet it feels like a lifetime. Day after day spent at the core of injustice, having to dodge and duck through a barrage of tests and obstacles as they’ve been thrown at me.
And yet, here I am, still standing, still working under the radar, still hidden from the powers-that-be. And tomorrow, I’ll be able to finish the job, and leave this place for good…
We close in on the gate, and I issue a further command to Agent Woolf.
“If we’re stopped, tell them…”
“We won’t be stopped,” she drones.
I’m slightly taken aback. Usually, under my control, the subject doesn’t interrupt in such a fashion.
“Excuse me?” I ask.
“I said we won’t be stopped,” she says, staring forward. “I have free reign to travel wherever I want. They’ll recognise the car.”
I peer at her.
“Look at me,” I command.
She does so, her black eyes so dull. I slip inside her head and see no brewing deception.
“Fine. But if we do get stopped, tell them you’re taking me to the academy, like before. Nod if you comply.”
She nods, and the car begins to slow as it turns down the short road to the gate. Nearing it, the structure begins to open, and the colourful, vibrant, world of Outer Haven is revealed.
A smile emerges on my face as the car slides through, my eyes briefly turning to the man on guard. As always, it’s a Brute, although I can’t tell whether or not it’s Magnus as the car travels through without interruption.
Clearly, Woolf was right. Her car gives her access anywhere, even at a time of high tension like this. As we pass, the Brute merely watches as we glide up the street, working straight through the centre of the western quarter.
Now, and only now, do I allow myself to relax further. At least, as relaxed as I can be at such a time. Truth be told, the last time I felt fully calm was before any of this happened, before I found out who I truly was.
Since then, I’ve barely had a chance to catch my breath, my life hurtling along at a hundred miles per hour without any hint of slowing down. Yet now, that end looks to be coming, rushing up faster and faster.
The light at the end of the tunnel is blooming.
“Take us to the north of district 6,” I tell Agent Woolf. “Find a quiet, unwatched alley, and park the car. Give the order now.”
She repeats my words to the vehicle, her voice alone capable of commanding it, and we work straight for the destination Zander assigned.
The colours beyond the windows of the car grow brighter as we go, the first advertising boards beginning to brighten as the streets fill with pedestrians. I look upon my people with a studying eye, searching their faces for the creases of worry and fear that have been marking their visages for so many weeks. Now, those cuts are only getting deeper, word of the attack last night at the water treatment facility only serving to spread further panic through their ranks.
As we come to the large intersection near to the southside of Brick Lane, I find the streets swelling with poor souls, their stricken eyes cast to the sky in dread. Across the many screens attached to the flanks of the tall buildings, news of the attack begins to play.
“Hold up,” I say as the car cruises through. “Stop the car, Romelia.”
Agent Woolf passes on the order. The car halts abruptly, right in the middle of the street.
I turn to her with a deepening frown.
“Not here! To the side of the road!”
She acquiesces and the car swerves off to the curb, unblocking the flow of traffic. As it stops, I turn my eyes up to the nearest screen and watch, looking upon the security footage that had been captured by hovering drones.
The wreckage is vast and total. The entire water treatment facility, a grand structure comprising several buildings, has been laid to waste, leaving only a steaming pile of rubble and the carcasses of burning buildings. Still, fire-fighters work to put out the blaze, the reporters on the scene already making the people aware of the importance of this particular attack.
As if they didn’t know already…
Here, clean water is our lifeblood, and the water treatment facility is the very heart that pumps it around the four quarters of Outer Haven. The water beyond our borders is, quite simply, too toxic to be consumed without purification, and without the means to detoxify it, the clean water reserves will quickly dwindle.
I can see the worry etched across every face. Those already fearing for their lives as the threat of the Fanatics loom, and the streets grow more populated with Con-Cops and City Guards, will now have to contend with an entirely new concern.
In weeks, and perhaps just days, some of them will already be scrapping for survival. They’ll look to the Consortium to deploy emergency measures to save them, frantically clawing at their feet for aid.
But that aid, I know, will never come.
“Let’s get out of here,” I grumble, turning away from the footage. “Get the car moving, Romelia!”
The order isn’t specific enough. She merely looks at me with a blank expression so typical of her kind.
“District 6, for Christ’s sake! Do what I told you before. Find us a quiet alley.”
Her cold words tumble, and the car glides off once more.
We pass by Brick Lane, and my eyes turn straight up, getting no more than a glimpse of the academy half way up as we cruise by. In that flash, I try to spot Mrs Carmichael, or Tess, or Abby, or Nate, or any of the other residents of the only home I’ve ever known. I see no one, all of them most likely huddled around the TV in the common room, afflicted as the rest of them by fear.
On we go, passing the market too, another thriving place that has now become a graveyard. My mind fills with thoughts of Fred and Ziggy and Drum, and Rycard and Sophie join them. All people directly affected by that day, some of the many hundreds, many thousands, who have seen their lives changed or lost by that cowardly attack.
Finally, I look upon the shelter in district 6 as we journey northwest, the gateway to the underlands I used to frequent. Down there, not far through the tunnels, the waterfall will be raging, and the river rushing, and the many tunnels that link through that network still being searched for some path to the north.
Then, as the world quietens in the north of district 6, creeping closer to the boundary wall away in the distance, the car begins to cruise down an empty side street, a couple of sleeping cats darting from their holes as the lights blaze ahead and light up the dim passage.
The soft sound of the engine begins to fade, and the car shuts down, and my eyes turn forward and backwards to make sure we�
��re alone. And then, with a final order to Agent Woolf to stay in the car, I step out, and find a figure already walking towards me, drawn right here by the connection between us.
Dressed in his dark cloak and hood he comes, his pace quickening as he nears me. And when he does, I fall into his arms and he hugs me tight, and I feel some of the unbearable weight upon me lift.
He swishes back his hood, revealing his wavy brown hair and hazel eyes. Within them I see exactly what I need: strength, resolve, a steadfast unwillingness to relent.
He smiles bright, the most natural expression I’ve seen for many days, and dips his eyes to the car.
“She’s in there?” asks my twin brother.
I nod, move to the car, and peek inside.
“OK, Romelia, you can get out now.”
Agent Woolf emerges, those cold black eyes so murky and dark. She moves right behind me, and I see Zander inspecting her as she comes.
“You’ve got her on a leash, sis,” he smiles. “But I’ll take the reins from here.”
And stepping forward, he locks eyes with her, and I see his hazel irises flash as he sets a new order. And as he takes control of her, a wave of relief escapes me.
Agent Woolf is finally off my back.
27
With the whole of Outer Haven – not just the northern quarter – under a particularly tight watch, I don’t spend much time with Zander, much as I’d like to.
We huddle in that quiet alleyway, Agent Woolf now firmly under my brother’s control, and quickly pass notes. Mostly, I ask how my friends are doing down in the underlands: Drum and Sophie and Rycard.
I’m told they’re fine to the best of my brother’s knowledge.
“I’ve been a little busy recently, as you know,” he announces, a firm indication that he doesn’t have time to keep checking in on those I care about.
Seeing as it was only yesterday that he had to escort Sophie and Rycard down there, I consider that a recent enough check in. Not that someone like Rycard needs, or wants, such interference. I’m sure he’s feeling emasculated enough having so little control over the security of his family.
