The Madness Project (The Madness Method)

by Bralick, J. Leigh

  “Or Ministers,” the older man said. “They’re the ones who just want to stay in power. They’re the ones who want to keep us in the gutters and the tenements. We put food on their plates and they dan’ let us keep but half of every meal for ourselves.”

  “Maybe Kantian’s right after all,” one said, surprising me. “Maybe we can’t wait any longer. Maybe it all needs to change starting today. Starting now.”

  “Now’s the time.”

  “We’ll all end up like Arne if we dan’ act now.”

  “The mages knew it all along. They’ve been trying to warn us.”

  “You knew it, didn’t you?” one asked me. “You knew how it would end. Bring down the State. Bring it all down.”

  “You think that’s the right idea?” I asked, alarmed, but a few of them actually cheered like I’d been trying to stir them up. “You want to take down the State?”

  More cheers.

  Everything inside of me turned cold.

  I noticed some of the police watching the crowd, watching me and looking as alarmed as I felt, but they didn’t move toward us. When one of the nobles started shouting at the workers, I could feel all the energy in the crowd surge to overflowing. The police blew their whistles and silenced the noble, but the damage was done. Anger simmered through the crowd of workers, waiting for the least spark to boil over. I retreated, silently, before the inevitable happened, and returned to my group without anyone in the crowd noticing that I’d gone. Hayli and Jig’s heads poked around the corner, watching me approach.

  “What’d you do?” Jig asked as I reached them. “They’re looking a mite antsy now.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Just a bit. They’re expecting their foreman to turn on them and let the police take them down. The police are twitchy anyway because of the crowd. When the poppers go off, watch the coppers react. It’ll just prove to the workers that no one will protect them, that they’re next. They’re already deciding that the State has to go. They’ll realize they have to side with the mages. That should make Kantian happy.”

  The last words sounded a bit too bitter, but I didn’t retract them. None of the kids seemed to notice, anyway. They were all peering around at the crowd now, even Anuk and Coins. I watched a minute too. As I began to hear raised voices among the workers, I realized too late that I was smiling. The workers knotted close now, looking less like a random gathering and more and more like a mob. My smile faded, and my head pounded, but I just gritted my teeth and forced it all away.

  “All right,” I said. “We need to get into position. The foreman will be here any minute, I’m sure, and that mob won’t last long before they start blazing up. Hayli, Coins, need you two up high. Jig and Anuk, get in through the back and onto the factory floor.”

  “What about you?” Hayli asked, pulling a stray wisp of hair away from her mouth. “Where’ll you be?”

  “Up front,” I said, smiling. “Where they can all see me.”

  “Just want the glory for yourself?” Jig asked, but he asked it without any reproach.

  Still, Coins punched his arm. “He’s not after the glory, you idiot. Right?”

  “If you want to risk getting shot,” I said, “you can come with me.”

  Jig opened his mouth, then closed it and nodded once. “Right.”

  “Then let’s move out.”

  Chapter 13 — Hayli

  For a tick we all just stared at Shade, then he flicked his fingers at us and we scrambled to our feet.

  “Watch for my signal,” he said before we bolted, and held up his fists by his head to demonstrate.

  We scattered, chasing after Coins toward the southside wall of the factory, dodging across the street before the Ministers and coppers could catch a goggle of us.

  “We’ve got to get inside,” Coins said, peering through the grimy window of the freight door. He laid his hand gently on the latch and pressed down, but it didn’t budge. “Damn. Locked as a lemon. No? Aw hell. Right, there’s a fire exit up there. Prob’ly where the foreman’s office is. I can slip that lock if it’s done up.”

  I glanced up, but the fire ladder ended some fifteen feet overhead. Jig rubbed his hands in the chalky dust from the gravel, and Anuk stretched his arms over his head. If Coins could make it, Jig could too, and though I’d never seen Anuk running walls, he was big and strong enough that I imagined he’d manage it. That left me.

  “Coins, I can’t climb up there,” I said.

  “Sure you can. Just follow my lead, right?”

  He took a three-step running start and launched himself up the wall like a squirrel. I watched him open-mouthed until he leapt and grabbed the bottom rung of the ladder, then I shook my head, tied my satchel around my waist and Shifted.

  From the air I can see the whole of the factory. A broken window high on the southside wall beckons me, just wide enough for me to slip through. The lads can enter through the door, but they don’t need to worry about me. I can scout ahead.

  I slip through the broken window and land on a rafter high over the factory floor. Deafening in that place is the sound of steam and grinding engines, and the shouts of a few of the workers who are preparing the great tram for its first appearance. It is larger than the older trams, sleek and black with copper trim. I have no notion why it is better than any of the old trams, but that isn’t why we are here. The tram is unimportant. The roaring furnace I see below, that is what matters. The furnace where a mage was killed.

  I fly to a lower beam to get a glimpse out onto the street. Out there the workers have gathered into a close knot, shifting their feet and clenching their fists as they wait for the foreman. Shade is in their midst again, and they all look at him, listen to him.

  Behind me, I see that Coins has gotten the foreman’s door open. The lads crouch low and creep through the office to the top of the stairs, where Jig and Anuk split off and head down to their positions. Shade moves closer to the factory door and glances over his shoulder, but I’m not sure if he can see us. It doesn’t matter. He told us to be there, and so we are. He has to know that.

  Shift back, Hayli whispers. I need to be able to use the poppers.

  Not yet, I tell her. Something’s wrong.

  I can’t tell what it is, just something in my deep insides that warns me of danger. The workers seem uneasy, both the ones still inside the factory and the others gathered outside. And then I notice why. A man not in workman’s grubs has appeared out of one of the downstairs offices. He is wearing a cheap suit with his hair slicked back, an oily smile on his face and venom in his eyes. Outside, the workers see him and the whole knot of them shifts around to stare at him. The socialites and Ministers start to pull back. I can taste their terror on the wind. They know that this will not end well.

  Shade takes a step forward, as if he will face the foreman himself. And suddenly, from the corner of my eye, I spot movement on the walkover. A man crouches there in a black jacket with a rifle slung across his back. As I watch he removes the rifle and shoulders it, peering into its telescopic sight. The rifle twitches, swinging back and forth, searching.

  Who is he looking for? Who is he targeting?

  The rifle swings toward Shade, and the man’s hand twitches to the sight, twisting its cap to bring it to focus.

  It’s Shade.

  He’s going to kill Shade.

  I know it with certainty. My heart patters with terror, and in my thoughts I hear Hayli’s panicked cry.

  I dive from the rafter, screaming, looping, trying to catch Shade’s eye…trying to draw his gaze to the sharpshooter. He peers into the factory and frowns at me, worry or anger in his eyes.

  Shift! Hayli screams at me. Shift now!

  But I can’t. I can only watch. I can’t even alert Coins to the sharpshooter’s presence. He is perched up on a side beam just at the edge of my right eye vision, hands full of poppers, waiting for Shade’s signal. Hayli begs me to do something, or to let her out, but there is no time.

  Shade’s voice cuts
over the noise of the engines. I cannot make out his words. The workers rally behind him, and the foreman looks to the police for help. The coppers move into a line, driving the workers back from the factory entrance where the foreman stands. Some of the workers shout in outrage, and the officers’ guns come up, warning them back.

  The sharpshooter on the walkover smiles, and his finger shifts to the trigger.

  Shade’s fist flashes to his ear.

  Smoke explodes all through the factory with a BOOM! that shakes the windows and rattles the metal beams of the rafters.

  I lose my grip on the air and spin downward. The shooter’s finger twitches.

  I correct my course and dive straight at him, screaming as loud as I can. From my right eye I see Shade’s gaze jerk upward, then I’m on the shooter, beating my wings, claws out, beak striking at his head. He pulls back, and the gun fires, and he swings the rifle toward me. Pain shatters through me.

  I’m falling.

  I can’t breathe. My wings struggle, but cannot catch the air. Below, other guns are firing. People are screaming, running everywhere. The people in the factory can’t get out. The workers outside attack the coppers, using whatever they can reach for a weapon, ignoring the guns firing all around them.

  I can taste blood in my mouth.

  The factory floor flies toward me, and all at once I see Shade running, his eyes on me, rage and fear in every line of his face. I beat my wings uselessly. My toes curl, unfeeling, and all the world darkens.

  Shade reaches out with a shout. I think he is calling Hayli’s name. But the girl is silent. I cannot reach her. I do not know how to call her out. My fall ends, gently, as Shade’s hands flash under me. He draws me in and lays me on the concrete floor. With all the world in chaos around us, he kneels over me, murmuring quietly, running one finger over the feathers beneath my eye.

  Chapter 14 — Tarik

  I could see Coins poised at the edge of the walkover, staring down at me and Hayli. In another moment he’d vault the railing to join me, and I knew there would be nothing I could do to stop him. But I couldn’t let him be seen. The coppers and newshawks and society folk had to believe I’d acted alone.

  So I did the only thing I could. I laid Hayli’s crow gently down on the concrete, brushing my finger over her feathers. She didn’t move, just watched me quietly through one unblinking eye. I swallowed the knot in my throat and took a step back, glanced toward Coins and met his gaze, then turned and strode straight toward the churning mayhem at the factory door.

  Everything was in chaos. Smoke spilled from the factory behind me, people screamed, guns fired.

  Bodies lay strewn in the street.

  In the gutters, the snow ran red with blood.

  My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the sound of gunfire.

  “CEASE FIRE!” I shouted, spinning toward the nearest mill worker who was firing a revolver into the line of coppers. I grabbed the gun from his fingers and pushed him away. “CEASE FIRE!”

  I must have screamed it loud enough, finally, that they could hear it over the cacophony, because little by little the pulse of shots faded away. The haze of rage and madness dissipated, and we all stood a moment in stunned silence, staring at what we’d done. It took the coppers less time than anyone to get their wits about them; they regrouped swiftly and moved in to arrest the workers, but nobody had the energy to fight back.

  I stepped toward a body sprawled near the factory door. It was the foreman, shot through the heart, dead the moment the bullet had hit him. And beside him, face down in the snow, lay the police sergeant. I knelt down next to him and turned him over.

  His eyelids fluttered and for a moment he just studied me quietly, while I watched him, sick with grief, helpless.

  “Don’t let the world see you fall,” the sergeant murmured, his hand finding my arm.

  I jumped. My mouth turned dry. “You know me?”

  He let out a little puff of air that might have been a laugh, or a cough. “You’re a bit hazy around the edges, but I’d know Your Highness anywhere.”

  I flinched away, casting an anxious glance around the street, but no one stood close enough to hear him.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”

  “You’re not to blame.”

  “Yes I am.” I reached over to grasp his hand, my throat turning raw. “You’ve only ever tried to help me, even when I never seemed to listen. But I was listening, do you hear? You were right.” I paused, struggling to steady my voice. “I never would have wanted this to happen. But it is my fault. Don’t take that from me.”

  His brow creased. “I don’t understand.”

  I could barely hear him, his voice had grown so faint. I swallowed hard and stared up at the factory. “If you don’t let me take the blame, then how can you forgive me?”

  His fingers tightened on mine. “I do forgive you. Go and make things right.”

  “Every time I try to do what’s right, people get hurt. I don’t even know what’s right and wrong anymore.”

  “You know,” he said.

  “But I don’t. I—”

  My voice trailed away, because his eyes had lost their focus, and his hand spasmed in mine, then turned to stone. I ground my teeth and bowed over him. Somewhere in the back of my mind I realized I was bleeding, but I couldn’t bring myself to care.

  “He killed him,” a voice behind me said. “He killed the sergeant.”

  I winced and turned, and saw three policemen grouping together not ten feet away, hatred and fear in their eyes.

  “He’s still got the gun!” one of the others said.

  “Drop the weapon and put your hands up!” the third shouted, raising his rifle to his shoulder. “Now!”

  I stared at them, dazed. So weary. Twenty people lay dead in the street and their blood poured from my hands. Mine.

  I set the gun down and lifted my hands to my head.

  “SHADE!” someone shouted from behind us, in the factory.

  Jig. God, no.

  All the officers’ rifles shot up. I could hear Jig’s footsteps—Jig and Anuk’s—hammering toward us.

  No more. No more.

  “Get out of here!” I cried, and my hands flashed out.

  The guns clashed to the ground. The coppers shouted and I scrambled to my feet.

  Vaguely I heard, “Shoot to kill, shoot to kill!”

  Guns fired around me—I hadn’t taken their revolvers. I ducked and ran, ran as hard as I could, back into the factory. I found Jig and Anuk in the shadows and grabbed them both by a shoulder.

  “Get the hell out of here!” I screamed. “What’re you still doing here? Go, go, go! Don’t wait for me!”

  “We ain’t leaving without you,” Jig said.

  “Not your decision.” I shook them. “Listen to me! I can take them on a chase, but only if I don’t have you two to worry about. I can’t let them follow us to the Hole. I’ve got to lose them first.”

  “Come on,” Anuk said, pulling Jig back. “Do as he says. Move!”

  I stepped out into the hazy daylight where the coppers could see me, to give Jig and Anuk a few seconds of cover to clear out the back of the factory. Immediately a flurry of gunshots sounded, and I dove for cover behind a piece of machinery. Shouting followed, and the thud of hobnailed boots on cobblestones. I scrambled for the walkover, wincing every time the crack of a shot fired behind me. The metal floor clashed under my feet.

  Dead ahead was the foreman’s office, its door smashed in, probably from Anuk’s boot. I slithered out the window onto the fire escape and looked down.

  And saw the sharpshooter who had almost killed Hayli waiting for me at the bottom. I stared, turning cold as I recognized his face. He was Vanek Meed’s man, the one I’d lamped to get to the sanatorium.

  He lifted his rifle.

  Inside the factory, the officers were racing down the walkover.

  I swore and climbed up. My hands, slick from blood (I couldn’t even tell whose
anymore), slipped on the rungs. A red haze seeped over my vision, but I just gritted my teeth and kept going. One step at a time.

  Just when I thought I’d never survive the climb, my hands met the rough stone of the roof. I hauled myself up, breath shaking through my teeth, and stumbled toward the closest chimney stack. Iron girderwork loomed around me, making a maze of the roof.

  Just get out of sight…and hide…hide…

  My legs buckled.

  It took me a moment to realize I had my face pressed against the stone roof. Somewhere in the distance I heard shouting and I realized the police were already climbing up over the lip of the roof. In a moment they’d be in range, and then it would all be over.

  I took one long breath, staggered to my feet, and threw myself into a sprint straight toward them.

  It caught them by surprise. They stopped to unsling their rifles, but by the time they’d readied their weapons, I was already back at the fire escape. One of them got a revolver shot off at me. The bullet sang past my ear and I ducked, leaning out over the escape. The sharpshooter had disappeared, leaving my way clear, so I dropped over the edge, dizzyingly fast.

  Another copper took aim. Fired. My hands slipped.

  I felt my body crash against the rusting cage, falling, falling…

  Pain like venom ripped down my arm.

  I scrambled at the rungs, fingers grasping, snatching…

  My back slammed against the ground, scattering gravel everywhere around me. I gasped for breath but couldn’t fill my lungs. Vaguely I could see the coppers at the top of the roof, peering down at me.

  Get away…get away…hide…

  I winced and coughed. I knew I had to move, but I couldn’t feel my legs, couldn’t feel my arms. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my right arm pouring blood. The sight of it made the world rock beneath me.

  Oh God, I’m going to die…

  Somehow, somehow I managed to twist onto my stomach, and half crawling, half slithering, I dragged myself around the corner of the factory and closed my eyes. I prayed with every ounce of strength I had left that I could disappear…just for a moment…just long enough to throw the coppers off my scent…