Agent of Equilibrium

by N. J. Mercer

  Elizabeth remained icy. “Edward told me a long time ago about someone new looking after security. I had never seen him or even heard his name – until now.”

  She glared at Martin and wondered why he was telling her all this. Was he trying to shock her? She walked the path of Disorder, and she accepted the possibility of anything. After all that she had seen in her life, these revelations of Martin’s barely registered in her conscience. Her thoughts were interrupted when Martin started to speak.

  “There was something else I learned from the journals, not nice at all; however, a lot of things made sense after it. I didn’t know how to tell you before, Liz. Something happened in one of Edward’s Grand Dinners; the ones in which he invited all those so-called pillars of our society. I realise now that they were all corrupt bastards, really. We were all there at this particular dinner. It went on until quite late, and everyone had been drinking for hours. There was never any shortage of wine at these events, was there? I mean, you should know, you were the hostess. You see, for Louise and me it was an exciting world. Here we were dining with mayors and judges; it was unreal. I mean, where did we come from? Nothing! Anyway, like I said, it was late, and Louise was tired so she went to one of the rooms where it was quieter, away from the noise and chatter in the main dining hall. She was feeling tipsy; she never drank to the point where she lost it, she never had. Edward saw her leave and followed her into the room. She wrote in the journal that he started to speak to her, he told her that with him she was in good hands, and that he would show her great things. He said his aim was to introduce her to the ways of his Disciples, and as he said these things, he kept drawing closer to her. She backed off; he wouldn’t stop until he had his hands on her. She struggled as he held her wrists tight, and she started to panic. He just watched and smiled as she tried to pull away. It was like he was playing with her. The next bit is really strange. I know Edward can do some pretty weird things; he has some sort of ability. I don’t know what exactly, although it’s the only explanation I can think of for what Louise wrote next. She felt a tingling from his hands where he held her wrists, a sensation that quickly spread through her whole body. It was like she was awake without any control over herself, while he could move her like a puppet. Her thoughts were her own though. In that locked room he sought his own sordid pleasure; the rest of us may only have been feet away from the door while it was all going on. She didn’t write exactly what happened, although the stuff she hinted at left me with no doubt regarding what he did. After that, he just let her go and returned to the party. She never told me any of this, Elizabeth; I had to read it afterwards … after she died. Following that night, she stopped having anything to do with Edward, the Disciples and even you; it was when she stopped coming here to work. I remember asking her what was going on; she never even hinted at what had happened. She just told me that she wanted a change, to move on and find new challenges in her work. None the wiser, I accepted this; in actual fact, she was protecting me and you, Elizabeth, by not saying anything. I don’t know if she thought about going to the police or anything like that, but what can you do if the chief constable is at the dinner parties of the man that assaulted you; it’s got to make you think twice, hasn’t it?

  “It was only after Chloe died that Edward became interested in Louise and started to introduce her to the Disciples. I think that was when he realised he had a perfect replacement for his dead foster daughter in Rachel, another child to serve his sick purposes; however, by assaulting Louise, he had messed up. Her refusal to go back to work at the house and have anything to do with him meant he was about to lose the quick replacement for the girl he had lost already. He also had another problem; if what he did to Louise ever came to light, it would undermine his role as leader of the Disciples. People would know that through his own selfish desires he had jeopardised the goals of the Disciples; by submitting to his lust, he lost the replacement child. The easiest solution for him was clear; get rid of Louise. I have thought about it a lot, and I am sure that’s why he had Mr Kreb kill her. It all happened so quickly: Chloe dying, Edward’s attempts to lure Louise into the Disciples, the assault, Louise dying, and then Rachel being adopted. It’s so clear; can’t you see what a sick bastard he is, Liz?” Recounting the tale in his weakened state had exhausted Martin.

  Elizabeth could see that it had been harrowing for Martin to recollect what happened to Louise. She could see that he had been trying to protect her all this time from this ‘act of betrayal’ by her partner. He wanted to convince her that Edward was cruel and dishonest, he even wanted her to stop the ceremony; Martin’s motives were brazenly obvious. She watched him looking into her eyes, waiting for her reaction. What did he want now? Tears? Help? He would get neither. It was time to make her position clear.

  “You don’t see what this is all about, do you, Martin?” she asked coldly.

  “W-w-what?” he stuttered.

  “In the little time you were with us, as one of the prospective Disciples, you didn’t learn a thing, did you?”

  “Elizabeth, what do you mean?” asked Martin, confused.

  “You continue to judge; you continue to heed right and wrong. The freedom offered by Disorder is lost on you and those like you, Martin.” Elizabeth’s lips stretched into a thin smile.

  “Elizabeth, what are you saying? What have you become?” Martin whispered incredulously.

  “It will not be long before Earth reverts to the true way. Forget about this nonsense you have been telling me, Martin – there are greater things at stake here. I offer you this last chance to join the Disciples. I can speak to Edward, tell him you have had a change of heart, and he will accept you with open arms.”

  “What are you saying!? Who are you? I’m not joining up to anything; just go away … leave me to die.”

  “I love you, brother, and I wish you too could have been a part of all this.” With a shake of her head, Elizabeth left the cell.

  “Elizabeth! Come back!” moaned Martin, his voice fading to nothing as guards closed the door to his cell.

  “Elizabeth! Come back; I know my sister is still alive!” He directed these words towards the small viewing slat.

  Elizabeth made her way back to the house from the secret network of chambers that lay beneath. Martin’s foolishness dominated her mind. Stupid boy, she thought to herself. He had been brought into the fold, almost become one of them; somewhere along the line, the path of Disorder had become obscured for him. Edward had certainly not helped matters with his indiscretions. Martin might not have been so upset about poor Louise if he had been a full Disciple; to him, Edward’s actions were an act of transgression. How faithfully Martin hung on to old, decaying values, she thought; they prevented him from seeing the new world. Now it seemed he would be paying the ultimate price. She could not help feeling a pang of remorse at this; was there something of her old self still alive? No! She was a true Disciple; it was good of Edward to let her know what he had planned for Martin. It was time to forget about her brother, there was work to do. She could ignore his words quite easily, although there was something else that bothered her. Martin looked different now, he had aged, as was to be expected, but his eyes were the same as she remembered from their childhood. Elizabeth knew that the connection she felt to him as her kin and the places this could take her might be dangerous.

  **

  Only now could Martin see why Edward had been so unconcerned about him speaking to his sister; he had corrupted her. Knowing this was just as painful as anything Martin had spoken of so far, knowing this almost broke him. Could he be wrong though? He had seen her flinch as he told the story. Even in that dark cell he noticed a slight pursing of the lips as he spoke of Edward and his lewdness. How could she not care about such a moment as he had described? Maybe there was hope. He did not know what to think any more – so many secrets – the people he thought he knew were like strangers, and his personal judgement suddenly seemed inadequate for navigating this miasma of deceit.
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  Martin heard footsteps approaching; maybe she had ordered a guard to release him. The footsteps stopped, the door opened again, and an all too familiar shape loomed over him.

  “You were listening, weren’t you?” moaned Martin bitterly with what little breath he had left.

  “I was only next door,” replied Edward, gesturing to a neighbouring cell. “Is there anyone else you would like to meet?” he asked gleefully.

  “You’ve brainwashed her, Edward; to the point that she actually believes all your crap. You knew all this before you let her see me.”

  The gloating smile on Edward Devilliers’ face was replaced by a more serious expression. “I didn’t know for certain, Martin; I had to make sure that you could not get to her. I needed to know that she was a Disciple of Disorder worthy of her status as my partner. She’s beautiful, isn’t she? She really does understand what Disorder is all about. Elizabeth is not bound by the foundation-less morals that pathetic creatures like you so revere. I wanted Louise that night; this simple fact does not detract from the love I feel towards my wife. I feel love for all my Disciples. Of course, I don’t expect you to appreciate any of this, you … you simpleton. Look at the so-called civilisation around you, see the lives of its people, observe how stifled their souls are, look at them go about their existence with spirits crushed, scared of all that is truly beautiful, scared to indulge their mind, body and soul in sensuality. They have limitless perception that is barely utilised, brains whose higher functions remain unexplored; they live akin to cockroaches … the gift of life wasted. What I bring is an awakening; man will no longer sleepwalk. Be honoured of the role you are to play in this, Martin. Your death, like those of so many others, will not be in vain.”

  To Martin, the world his brother-in-law proposed was unworkable. He had heard it all before and had stopped listening to the rant near its beginning. There was another question on his mind though. “Tell me something, will you? Why do the Disciples want the three girls?”

  Edward raised his eyebrows. “I thought you knew,” he said. And with that, he turned around to leave.

  “Tell me!” insisted Martin.

  “No!” said Edward, sneering at him from the doorway.

  “Fuck off, Edward,” managed Martin with fading breaths.

  “Martin!” exclaimed Edward Devilliers as if disciplining a child. He left the cell, laughing.

  The door was slammed shut by guards and the small slat closed. When Edward Devilliers’ laughter faded, all Martin could hear was the sound of his own laboured breathing and the ebbing pulse of the portal through the stone floor beneath him.

  Chapter 28

  Rachel heard a knock and looked up. “Hi, Lisa,” she said, fumbling awkwardly with the tie on the back of her dress; her younger foster sister strode over quickly to lend a hand. Both were now wearing the silk and lace garments given to them earlier.

  “Oh, my God, Rach,” said Lisa, “what on earth are these outfits?” She started to giggle.

  Rachel, despite her horror at the situation, also found herself giggling nervously. “It’s all very strange, isn’t it?” she said.

  “I know! Meredith is already downstairs; I wonder who’s here to meet us? God! It must be someone from the Victorian age or something!” Lisa giggled again. Rachel did not join her this time; Martin’s warning about the night continued to play on her mind, and she was starting to feel quite threatened. If by some miracle she managed to escape from the house tonight, her feelings would be a mixture of elation and guilt; elation at having avoided whatever was planned for her, and guilt for abandoning her sisters to some unknown fate. She wrestled with the question of whether she should involve the others in any plan to run away. The danger was that if such a plan failed, or if it turned out to be unnecessary, then she would be exposing them to the possibility of a severe reprimand. As Rachel grappled with this problem, Lisa playfully pranced about the room in her strange dress.

  “Lisa …” started Rachel, slowly.

  “I need a wee, Rach,” interrupted Lisa with a mischievous grin, and she moved to leave Rachel’s bedroom.

  “Lisa, wait,” Rachel said half-heartedly, still unsure about leaving her sister here.

  “Back in a sec, Rach,” said Lisa as she left.

  Rachel sat on the bed, alone again, contemplating her fears. She started to panic, knowing she would have to act soon if she was going to escape. Memories of her mother flashed through her mind; terrible memories of death, isolation and vicious beasts. Her heart raced quicker as she sat there; Martin’s warning rushed through her mind. I will come and get you, Rachel, but if I don’t, you must get away, he had said. You must get away. Why had Martin not come back?

  She started to pace up and down the room. She remembered the sounds from the garden, the ones from the night when Martin was supposed to have come for her, she had heard screams and loud bangs. What had happened to him? Where was he now!? Her body started to tremble with anxiety. What had they planned for her tonight? What on earth was going on? Everything Martin had warned her about was slowly coming true, and it became clear that she could not be here any longer. Before her fear got the better of her, she set herself on a course of action. Rachel moved quickly to shut the bedroom door and then squeezed the doorstop up hard against it. She threw on a light jacket to protect her from the cold, damp night and put on a pair of trainers. She slid open the window to her room and suddenly remembered the amulet Martin said would take care of her. She ran back to the wardrobe and grabbed the piece of strange jewellery, leaving everything else. She returned to the window and climbed out of it onto the portico structure beneath. Once on the small roof, she looked around desperately for ways to reach the ground and noticed a possible route down one of the portico’s great supporting pillars. The pillar she chose lay against the wall of the house. It had stone blocks carved into its surface with gaps between them big enough for a fingertip hold that could only really be achieved by a rock climber; as fortune would have it, there was a wooden lattice fixed to the wall alongside it, intertwined with a mature climbing plant. The pillar and the plant, Rachel decided, were the best, if not the only, way down.

  She turned and carefully closed the window; it was all she could do to throw anybody off her trail. Never forgetting that time was of the essence and remaining conscious of falling, she slowly lowered herself over the edge. It became painfully apparent that there could not have been more inappropriate clothing for this task than the dress she wore, but what could she do? She had put it on in fear, under pressure from her foster mother, and so desperate was she to get away that there was no time to change. She moved with an agility that would have been impossible for a mature adult to replicate. Scratches to the forearms and face inflicted by the plant stung; she continued the descent, undaunted. With four feet left to go, she lost her grip on some damp lichen and fell backwards onto a flowerbed. Winded by the impact, she paused to catch her breath. The point of no return had passed. Stumbling back onto her feet, she ran silently into the night. Her small frame and light footfall did not make a sound, and with the white dress trailing beneath her jacket she could have been a will-o-the-wisp.

  Despite her present circumstances, Rachel felt safe in the garden; she had played hide and seek and many other games with her sisters out here for years. She picked her way past favourite trees and secluded spots, always remaining concealed. Occasionally, an unfamiliar robed figure wandering about the grounds would need to be avoided; this was easy for her, and eventually she reached the perimeter wall.

  **

  The being underground stirred again from its sleep. Could it be another meal? Its tiny brain considered the pattern of movement and the familiar heartbeat. Not a meal, it was the girl. It knew her well; this was no intruder, only a member of the household. This one was always in the garden. It was an odd hour for her to be playing outside, thought the creature as it drifted back into its slumber.

  **

  Elizabeth’s mind was no longer
occupied with thoughts of Martin languishing in his cell. She hastily ascended the stairs and passages that led back to the house and made her way to the kitchen. Meredith was already sitting there waiting, dressed in her ceremonial garb. Such a good girl, thought Elizabeth. She smiled at her eldest foster daughter whom she had raised from the age of three years.

  “You look great,” said Elizabeth as she stood beside the girl.

  “Thanks, I don’t feel great,” said the tired Meredith. Elizabeth ran her fingers through the girl’s hair with as much affection as any natural mother.

  “I’ve made you all a drink. Where are your sisters?” Elizabeth asked.

  Meredith shrugged. There was the sound of footsteps hurrying down the main staircase, and Lisa entered the kitchen.

  “Oh good, you’re here. Where’s Rach?” asked the foster mother; there was no reply. She noticed disquiet on the girl’s face. “Is there a problem, Lisa?” Elizabeth’s tone was resolute.

  “I can’t get into Rachel’s room.”

  “What?”

  “I can’t get into her room, and when I knocked she didn’t say anything either.”

  Elizabeth dashed out of the kitchen, barely able to keep herself from falling as she ran upstairs. Meredith and Lisa followed, just about managing to keep up. Rachel! thought Elizabeth as she pounded up the stairs. Surely, she wouldn’t ruin everything; not tonight! That Rachel! She was the quietest of the girls and also the most wilful; quietly rebellious – nobody knew what went on in that head of hers. Soon, Elizabeth was at her door.

  “Rachel?” she called out aloud. When there was no response, she did not call a second time and turned the door handle instead. The doorstop Rachel had left prevented the door from opening; it took a few moments of pulling and pushing to loosen it enough for Elizabeth to burst into the empty room.

  **