'You're the first person Lorna has confided in about her mother,' Sir Alec informs me. 'The first person she's told the whole story to. She must trust you,' He observes. I detect the faintest hint of jealousy in his voice, buried deep, waiting to be unleashed.
'You must be getting somewhere.' He continues, his voice quiet, smooth. He backs away from the window, circling around me, coming over my left side.
'This skipping class, Miss Ryder?' He perches on his desk so I have to crane my neck to look at him. 'It can't continue. It puts me in a very awkward position. I don't want to punish you, I need you, I need you to complete your task. But I have to set an example for the others.
I can't be seen favouring you, I can't be seen to be lenient or going soft. Others will start to skip class, take liberties and then where will I be?' He asks. I shrug agreeably.
'I understand.'
'Usually I don't hand out second chances. Usually in this situation I would send you straight into isolation. However, you are aiding me with my daughter and I did promise that your efforts would not go unrewarded. I don't like to break my promises.
So this once, I will let it slide. But in future, you must attend every class, unless my daughter is your reason for skipping, is that understood?'
'Yes, Sir Alec.' I nod, breathing a sigh of relief.
'Good. Now, as far as my daughter is concerned, you have less than a month to change her mind, Miss Ryder. I suggest you buck up your ideas, the pressure is on you now and I expect results.' His voice takes a hard tone and I swallow, my throat dry.
'Yes, Sir.' I nod, avoiding his gaze.
'Very well, you may leave. Go to class. I will deal with Miss Beighley.' He raises an eyebrow and I jump from my seat, not needing to be told twice.
Sir Alec's warning sends me into a state of panic like none I've ever experienced before. I'm keenly aware that my skipping class was merely an excuse, a ruse, to get me to his office and issue me with a warning.
Sir Alec's message is clear; look what I'm doing for you, allowing you to break the rules with no consequences, because I'm counting on you to carry out the task. However, if you don't – and soon – I will no longer bend the rules for you and you will suffer the consequences of your actions.
He's stockpiling reasons to punish me, allowing me – just for now – to go free, until the time comes when I have to admit that I have failed in my task.
As quickly as my displeasure at Malachy and Islwyn's seemingly betrayal of me came, it disappears as I realise that they're only protecting their jobs and their lives – like me.
The facts are clear; I must convince Lorna Gray to change willingly within one month or be punished severely for failing, either by isolation, or worse, Confinement.
Or; I must agree to help Lorna escape, spend the rest of eternity in hiding, or pray that in three hundred years time, Malachy may take pity on me and cease hunting me.
Both options are about as unlikely to work as each other, but these are my only options, there is no way out.
I realise suddenly, that if I am to be Confined, I would rather go out fighting. If I'm to be captured, I would rather be captured fighting against the Auctoritas and Sir Alec than captured trying to please them.
As ridiculous and infeasible as Lorna's plan is, it is at least the last thing the Auctoritas would want, and in pissing them off, we will surely succeed.
I have nothing to lose. If I stay and attempt – without hope – to please Sir Alec, I will undoubtedly fail and I will be punished.
Why lie down and let him walk all over me, play me and use me for his own amusement? Take pleasure in instilling fear in me by issuing me with a task I can not perform?
I refuse to be his puppet, his entertainment, and I will, instead, take away from him the one thing that he cherishes above all else. I will have my revenge, not for taking away my old life, but for ruining my new one. For tainting my second chance and making my happiness an impossibility from the start.
The minute class lets out, I'm sprinting to the fourth floor, avoiding the common room where I know Tia will be waiting and praying that Lorna will be in her usual spot by the window, gazing lovingly at her desolate rock.
I know that I have only minutes until Tia comes looking for me and I know that perhaps Malachy is already looking for me, I must find Lorna quickly, but I also must avoid drawing attention to myself.
I take the stairs to avoid the crowds, running with every ounce of energy I have, only slowing as I reach the second floor. I weave my way through the groups of students merrily on their way to their common rooms to relax, safe in the knowledge that their lives and freedom are intact.
The fourth floor is empty, including the dorms and I smile with relief as I spy Lorna's familiar frame, perched on the window ledge, her slim legs dangling by her sides.
I run to her, startling her as she jumps up to hopelessly defend herself, before relaxing, realising who I am. Her expression turns to one of panic as she notes my urgency, gripping my hand tightly as I reach her.
'What's happened?' She asks, her eyes wide.
'Is there somewhere we can go?' I ask, tugging on her hand, eager to get out of the open corridor.
'Come on.' She hisses, leading me back the way I came to the stairwell. We hurry up flights of stairs, Lorna's panting breaths echoing around us. By the fourth flight she's struggling, slowing down, the air in her lungs wheezing as she drags her tired legs.
'I can carry you.' I offer. She nods, speechless. I lift her and run, slowing as we reach the ninth floor and she signals for me to stop.
The door to this floor is coded – the first blocked entrance I've seen at Institute – and she taps in the code, the alarm beeping once before the door unlocks. She pulls it open and hauls me through, tugging me along another corridor until we reach the room farthest the end.
She opens the door, hastily pulling me inside and closing it behind her. This is obviously her room. The four poster bed is draped in a green canopy, a rustic wardrobe stands to the right of it. A dresser and chest of drawers are home to dozens of framed photographs; the largest of them a clear, beautiful picture of Lorna as a young girl and a woman who looks just like her. They're standing outside a stable, their cheeks pressed together as they smile into the camera.
I head towards it, eyeing the other photos of Lorna on a huge white horse, outside a sprawling mansion, jumping into a swimming pool, in school uniform with two female friends.
I feel a stab of pity for Lorna; unlike me and the rest of the Institute's students, she wasn't taken from a deprived life, but a good, wholesome one. Taken from people she loved and a happy time, placed into solitude with a man she despises to call her father.
'Your mother?' I ask pointing to the beautiful woman, an older version of Lorna. She nods. Another photograph depicts a frail looking man, his dark hair greying, his posture crooked, but a kind smile firmly fixed on his face.
'The Duke?' I smile and Lorna laughs, eyeing the photo fondly.
'Yes, four months before he died.' She replies sadly. What a wonderful, luxurious life to be taken from, full of love, family and friends, destroyed by Sir Alec's obsession and the Auctoritas' ambition.
In front of those photographs, I understand more than ever Lorna's hatred of our world, of our kind. And of her desperation to escape, to die in a hopeless attempt to save her mother, rather than to stay and grant Sir Alec's wishes.
Like her, I refuse to be a pawn in his games, and like her, I refuse to give him what he wants.
I turn to face her as she stands by the wide, clear window, a view of the main grounds beneath her, the winter flowers blossoming by the narrow stream.
'I will ask you just once,' I state, keeping my tone neutral, ignoring her wide-eyed, apprehensive stare. 'Will you or will you not consent to be transformed into an Immortal on the day of your eighteenth birthday?'
It's a last ditch attempt to keep my life, my freedom and my happiness. A last attempt to save myself, and her,
from a terrifying fate. No matter what her answer, having asked the question, I can at least say that I tried.
'I will not.' She replies firmly, her olive green eyes determined. My shoulders sag in both defeat and relief at her inevitable answer.
'Then I will help you escape the Institute.'
Her gasp of pleasure, surprise and relief rings in my ears long after it's ended. Her eyes widen in disbelief and she places both hands over her gaping mouth.
'Do you mean it?' She asks, her voice but a whisper.
'Yes.' I nod, sinking down on her bed without her permission.
'Oh, Eve!' She gushes, rushing towards me and throwing her arms around my neck, hugging me tightly. 'Thank you!' She presses her lips against mine, ecstatic tears streaming down her soft, white cheeks. 'Thank you so much!'
'We have to be careful about this.' I warn her, allowing no time for happiness. For me, this isn't a happy occasion. Though I won't remain at the Institute to be a puppet with Sir Alec for a master, I don't wish to leave, and if I had a choice I would stay with Tia, Malachy and Diana, to live the rest of eternity in happiness.
'Of course.' She nods, but she can't wipe the grin from her face. In her ecstasy, she isn't listening to me and I grip her wrists, forcing her to look into my eyes.
'I'm serious, Lorna. For us to get caught before we've had a chance to stick it to them would be the worst outcome of this situation. You have to take this seriously.'
'Seriously?' Her face drops suddenly, all traces of euphoria wiped from her expression as her mouth sets in a firm, straight line. 'No one takes this more seriously than me, Eve. I've been dreaming about this for nearly a year, plotting, scheming. Believe me I take this very seriously.'
'Okay.' I nod slowly, calming her outburst. 'I need to hear the plan.'
She sits down next to me on her bed and opens my bag, pulling out my A4 notepad and cartridge pen, opening the pad to the first blank page and dotting a clear bullet point.
'Seriously? We're going to do this like we're in a lesson?' I raise my eyebrow but she shushes me, tapping my arm.
'Be quiet. Listen, we're going to list this plan step by step, minute by minute – it's the only way we can get a clear idea of it. This isn't going to be easy you know.' She tuts, settling comfortably on her duvet.
'Okay,
-Escape the Institute.
We wait until lessons are in progress, the grounds will be empty and we're less likely to be seen.
We walk to the border casually. The time it takes to walk from the Institute's doors to the fence is the most likely time for us to get caught. If we do, we can simply say we went for a walk and drifted too far, you won't get rumbled for being outside of lessons because you'll be with me and we can try again another day, though a second attempt will look suspicious.
You carry me over the fence – you can jump it easily – and then you run.
-We head to Thailand, we hitch rides, hide on boats, whatever it takes. You have an advantage that others don't have, we won't be caught.
Most of the Rebels' supporters will be there, I know it. They won't be hard to find if we ask the right questions, they will sense your presence.
We tell them of my plan; to distract the guards using me as bait. I'm pretty certain they'll already know where the Confine is and with me to help, we can break into it.
The rest will be down to them to plan and strategise.'
I stare at her, open mouthed, unable to form a coherent sentence.
'What?' She frowns innocently.
'Lorna...' I stammer. 'That's the worst plan I've ever heard!'
'Well,' she huffs. 'Do you have any better ideas?'
I consider this, seeing the plan as a whole, using what little knowledge I have of the outside world of Immortals and realise that in fact, I don't have a better plan at all. Hers is all we have.
'I suppose it's better than nothing.' I acknowledge begrudgingly. She nods triumphantly and I sigh.
A plan full of holes and hopeful guesswork is what I'm basing my future on. Not that I'm under any illusion I have much of a future, Sir Alec will see to that.
'When are we going to do this?' I ask, dreading the answer.
'It can't be rushed.' She replies, to my surprise. I was expecting the answer to be 'tomorrow.'
'We only have three and a half weeks, Lorna, I wouldn't say time is exactly on our side.'
'Still, something like this can't be rushed,' She insists. 'If you rush, you make mistakes. We can't afford to make a single mistake. We have to plan and re-plan this, inch by inch.'
I resist the urge to remind her that the plan is terrible whichever way you look at it and no matter how much time is spent on it.
'So when?' I opt for instead.
'Two weeks,' She replies confidently. 'Then that gives us another week and half to try again if we fail to get over the fence.'
I shrug, unable to offer a better suggestion. My life is hanging by a thread either way, the time difference is irrelevant.
'Okay, two weeks. But I've just had a warning from Sir Alec. If it doesn't look like you're going to be changed willingly soon, he'll take me off the job and isolate me. You need to help me out, make it look like you're slowly changing your mind. Make off-hand comments to him, whatever it takes.'
'Don't worry, I know exactly what to say.' She smiles, her eyes shining with happiness.
*
The next two days are a blur in the shape of Lorna's face. We plan, re-plan, spend hours talking of how to find the Rebels. Lorna is of the firm belief that one of them is gifted and can communicate with people telepathically, that this is how the Rebels are organising themselves without being caught.
Whether she's being overly optimistic and making things up, or whether she genuinely has a source for these claims, I don't know, but it makes no difference to me either way; I'm going with her, I have no choice.
I leave most of the planning to Lorna; she's had far longer than I to hatch an escape plan and seems to know a lot more than me about the Institute's structure. But after two days of careful deliberation, the plan is little different from the original outline.
I've long since resigned myself to the fact that there's little hope Lorna's plan will work, but as long as we get over the fence and manage to run a fair distance, I'm happy. I'll be safe in the knowledge that I didn't sit by and wait for Sir Alec's inevitable punishment, I escaped him, for however brief a time.
I decide not to tell Tia about the escape plot for a number of reasons, the main being the fact that she will tell Malachy, the other that she will tell everyone, and the final one that she will freak out, be inconsolable and I'll have to spend the next two weeks calming her down.
These are all fair and understandable reasons, but I still feel a stab of guilt every time I see her and as a consequence of that, have been attempting to avoid her – not easy when we share a room together.
She's sensed something awry and spends more and more time with Meredith. I can't help feeling jealous and missing Tia's company despite the fact that her absence is my own fault.
She isn't back on Friday night at seven when I leave Lorna, though she has been home recently. Her damp bathrobe lies on top of the washing basket and the air smells heavily of her flowery perfume.
I breathe it in for a few moments, feeling nostalgic and stupid for neglecting my best friend, but I soon remember the plan and Lorna.
I have no doubts that Tia will soon move into Meredith's room and request me a new Mentor, but I won't be here to witness that.
The more Tia is kept out of my sordid plans, the better. If Sir Alec notices a drift between us, he'll be less likely to believe that Tia was involved in the escape. Though her expression every time she lays eyes on me is one of heartbreak, by ignoring her, I am actually protecting her.
I only hope that when I leave, she realises that.
The corridor outside my room is silent; it's Friday night, lessons for the week have finished and most students are i
n the Black Room or their common rooms, winding down after a long week and getting ready for the weekend.
I don't much feel like visiting the Black Room or even the common room, if I did, who would I talk to? Lorna has become my only friend, but it has to be that way.
Tia's weathered copy of Jane Eyre lies on her beside table, I think it's her favourite book, she reads it every now and then in a half hour in the evenings.
I pick it up idly and flick through the pages, scanning paragraphs with speed. I sink down onto my bed and begin the novel, one page takes me around ten seconds to read and process properly, I'm almost halfway through the book within ten minutes.
A presence in the corridor distracts me and I cast out my senses to determine the individual's identity. Possibly Tia returning early from the Black Room, possibly Sir Alec coming to check on my progress with Lorna. My ears detect two sets of footfalls coming from the direction of the lift, one set is confident and purposeful, the other lighter and more hesitant.
The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) Page 34
