The Madness Project (The Madness Method)

by Bralick, J. Leigh

  “If they try to fight, it will be a bloodbath,” Kor said. “Kantian’s a fool. He thinks he played a smart card, but he doesn’t even know what game he’s playing.”

  I nodded. “I heard of a weapons shipment. Some kind of new invention. I told Kantian it was coming in on a train, because he wanted information. Hopefully the Meats have unloaded some crates of dangerous fruit by now.”

  Kor studied me quietly. “It might have been better if the Meats had gotten the weapons. They use Dr. Alokin’s electromagnetism theories and the concept of that lightning device. Not sure how exactly it works, but it seems to target mages specifically. I don’t think they would be much use to Kantian unless Kantian wanted to turn on the mages himself.”

  “Do they kill us?” I asked, feeling sick.

  Kor was right—if they were lethal to mages, I’d rather see them in Kantian’s hands than the Science Ministry’s. I thought I’d done something clever, but maybe I’d only made a mess of everything again.

  “Don’t think so,” he said. “Paralyzes them at least. Renders their magic useless for a time.”

  I let out my breath in a hiss. “Listen, Kor. Will you look for Hayli? Rivano turned her out onto the streets just a few hours ago. I don’t know where she might be, but…I’m worried about her.”

  “Hayli? Why does that name sound familiar?”

  “She’s the shape-shifter. The girl I told you about…the one I met on the palace grounds as Tarik.”

  “Right.” He studied me closely, his hand firm on my arm. “What else aren’t you telling me?”

  I looked away. “She has the same mark you do. Clockwork on her spine. Rivano saw it.”

  His breath hissed out. “Damn. What were they trying to do with her?”

  “God knows. What were they doing with you?” I asked, turning back to stare him in the eye.

  He released me abruptly and swung away, shoulders hunched. “Don’t ask me. You don’t want to know.”

  “But you can remember?”

  “They’ve only just started experimenting with the amnesic techniques. They’ve been able to key the most recent specimens to act without remembering what they do. Not me. God.” He bowed his head. “I see everything that I do. I just can’t stop it. And all I can do is remember…” His head flinched back so he could catch my eye. I swallowed, recognizing the despair in his eyes. “I would have killed myself long ago if it hadn’t been for her.”

  Her?

  “My mother?” I murmured. “They know about her?”

  “Dr. Kippler does. He didn’t threaten to harm her, not in so many words. Just…whisper a word in the right ear, you know.”

  “How the devil does Dr. Kippler know about her?” I gasped, horror prickling through me.

  Kor didn’t answer. But I watched the blood drain from his cheeks, and the darkness fill his eyes, and for a moment I imagined my heart had forgotten how to beat.

  “You told him?”

  “It’s amazing what a person will say after days of being drugged, starved…electrocuted,” he said, voice strained. “God. I’ll never forgive myself for that.”

  All the hatred and fury that had surged up in my veins sank away, and I let out all my breath in one long sigh. I reached out and gripped his arm, but couldn’t find any words to console him. My thoughts kept turning back to what he’d said about his job for the Ministry, and at almost the same time, I remembered what he’d told me so long ago, that I would never want his gift.

  “Kor. What do they make you do?”

  He turned away, slamming the side of his fist against the wall so hard I winced.

  “It didn’t always work, you know,” he said. “The psychological manipulation. The hypnosis. Implanting suggestions, key phrases, obedience triggers. Sometimes…sometimes it just broke the specimens.”

  “Specimens? You mean the mages?”

  He nodded. “Drove them mad. Not just mad, but dangerous mad. You ever seen what happens to a Flint who’s gone crazy?”

  “No,” I said, but thought, I’ve come close enough to it myself to imagine, though.

  And suddenly, everything fell into place. I stared at Kor, feeling sick, my mind desperately trying to throw up barriers to block the realization. All I could see was that body…that body so shredded, so disfigured I couldn’t make out a single feature. My stomach churned, and I stared at Kor’s hands.

  “You were the one?” I could barely hear my own voice. “You’re the one who killed all those mages?”

  His face creased with pain. “I had to. I watched my hands… I couldn’t control them.” His eyes blazed with sudden fury. “But I swear to you, when this war comes, I will find Dr. Kippler myself and tear his head off.”

  I winced. I knew I should feel revulsion and hatred and contempt, but I couldn’t. I only felt pity, because I thought, somehow, I understood what he had suffered. Still…

  “That means…you knew all along! You knew that Rivano and the Clan weren’t behind the murders, and yet you let me risk my life out here to try to solve the mystery? And…you put a body right on top of the Hole, where the coppers might have found it?”

  “Don’t be a vutting idiot, Tarik,” he snapped. “I never disposed of any bodies. I don’t how that one ended up there. But look, don’t you get it? It was never about the murders. I’ve always been the bloody mole. I was the one who planted those suggestions in the king’s ear. He was desperate for a reason to go after the mages, and I…I had my own reasons. I made him believe you’d be the only one who could learn the truth. See? It was only ever about getting you to Rivano.”

  “Why didn’t you just tell me to begin with?” I asked. “Why all the games, all the secrets?”

  “Would you have hesitated before telling Trabin what I was doing, if I’d told you at the beginning?”

  I considered that barely a moment before I shook my head. Kor sighed and turned his hat over in his hands.

  “War is coming,” Kor said. “The King is preparing a full-scale extermination of our kind, but Istia and Tulay will never stand for that.” He took a step away from me, then another. “Who will you stand for?”

  And then he was gone. I watched him fade into the shadows, my mind reeling, numb with confusion and too many emotions and realizations knotted together. He’d left a bag with my clothes next to the wall, but for some time I could only stand and stare down the street.

  Every single person I knew had a use for me. Trabin. Kor. Kantian. Rivano. Dr. Kippler. Hell, every last low-life street thug had tried to manipulate me at one time or another. And I’d gone along with every single one of them.

  I was so tired of being everyone’s bloody pawn.

  The rogue in me urged me to leave the bag of clothes, to turn and walk away, to climb on a train heading nowhere and leave everyone and all this chaos behind. I had nothing in the Court and I had nothing in the Clan.

  Only I knew it was a lie. But no matter which way I turned, I would end in betraying someone I loved. If I complied with Trabin and accepted the crown and the safety he was offering, I would abandon Hayli and the lads, and everyone else I cared about on the streets, to be herded off like cattle for the slaughter—the mages for being what they were, the Hole rats for sheltering them. But if I stood up for the mages, I would forsake everything and everyone I’d ever known, and expose my mother—and myself—to execution for treason.

  God. When did it become so complicated?

  I would try. I would try once to get Trabin to hear reason. But then I would have to decide.

  Chapter 10 — Tarik

  The cold dawn had just broken when I reached the palace, wearing Tarik’s clothes and Tarik’s face, and all of Shade’s anger. One of the night footmen opened the door for me, looking a bit pale and drawn as he took my coat.

  “Is my father awake yet?” I asked.

  “I believe so,” he said, bowing, his gaze darting to the side. Stars, why was the man so nervous? “He had some Ministers come early for some sort of sp
ecial council, I believe.”

  “In the Chamber?”

  “Yes, Your Highness.”

  I nodded my thanks and turned to head into the palace, only to find Zagger waiting there for me at the end of the foyer.

  “Zagger, thank the stars,” I said. “I need to talk to you.”

  He didn’t move. I’d never seen him so haggard. He just stood there under the lamplight, watching me quietly, mouth drawn in a thin line.

  “What’s the matter with you?” I asked, walking toward him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m so sorry, Your Highness,” he said.

  Behind me, I heard the stomp of boots on marble.

  “Sorry for what?”

  I flicked a glance over my shoulder. Three palace guards stood behind me, rifles in their hands. Another pushed his way through the knot of them, stalking straight for me.

  “What the hell is going on?” I cried. “Stand down, all of you. What’s the meaning of this?” I jerked back around to face Zagger. “Zag?”

  “By order of His Majesty the King,” Zagger said, voice low, “you’re under arrest for crimes against the Crown.”

  The world ground to a halt. Everything muted, everything blurred. Vaguely I felt the guards grab my arms, dragging them behind me, locking my wrists in steel. One of them spoke in my ear, commanding me to follow him, but his voice sounded so far away, and I couldn’t make myself comprehend. I tried to wrench free but they wrestled me back.

  “Come on, Your Highness,” the guard said. “Don’t make this more difficult for me than it is.”

  I didn’t listen to him. Didn’t move until the guards grabbed me by the shoulders, muscling me away. My feet slid on the marble and I fought, fought so hard, while Zagger watched, unmoving and unmoved.

  “Zagger!” I shouted. “Zagger, you bastard! What’ve you done?”

  “What I had to,” he said, and turned away.

  I let them lead me, then. I didn’t care where we were going. What did it matter? A guards’ coach waited outside at the base of the palace steps, and as soon as they had forced me into the rear seat, it set off toward the palace prison. It had been there all along, waiting for me. The guards had been waiting for me. Zagger…had been waiting.

  Waiting to betray me.

  Zagger.

  I pressed my knuckles against my mouth, fighting the nausea. Oh, God. How was I supposed to plead with Trabin for the mages from inside a prison cell? Maybe that was the point. Maybe Trabin knew I would try to oppose him.

  He should have just killed me.

  I leaned my head on the window, listening to the rattle of wheels and the sharp clap of the horses’ hooves. The guard across from me wouldn’t look at me. He sat slouched a bit forward, his rifle between his knees and an embarrassed kind of frown on his face. I wondered what he thought of it all. I wondered what he thought of me.

  After an uncomfortably silent ride of about ten minutes, the prison crept into view. It was a dreary grey fortress of a building tucked far out of sight of the palace visitors. My heart sank. I’d half expected them to take me down to the police headquarters. The prison was a bit more permanent, a bit more serious—people didn’t get sent to the prison if anyone expected them to leave again soon.

  Apparently the guards had been told to take no account of my title, because they marched me into the prison, stripped me of my suit and hat and gave me an inmate’s grey grubs, and then deposited me in an ordinary cell on the far end of the third floor. It had a lav at the back and nothing else but a plain cot, which felt oddly familiar and strangely comforting. At least they gave me a cell to myself, and the solid walls kept me from seeing if I had any neighbors.

  The cell was situated just outside the guard station. If I stood at the door and craned my head just right, I could see the two prison guards sitting and talking inside the room. One was an older man, stiff-lipped and mustachioed, the other younger and a bit rounder around the edges. They were keeping an eye on me, I could tell, though I wasn’t sure what they expected me to do. I wasn’t sure what I expected myself to do. I’d never liked being confined anywhere for long; even trains and motorcars stifled me to madness at times.

  For a few minutes I paced the small length of the cell, back and forth, scanning every last inch of the room for any means of escape, but the place was sealed tight. There wasn’t even a window to let me pretend I could get free. Frustrated, I strode back to the door and lashed out, kicking the bars as hard as I could. The clash echoed through the prison block.

  “Hey!” the older guard cried. When he realized it was me who had kicked the door, he stood up behind the counter and said, “Keep the racket down, please, Your Highness. Let’s not rile up the other inmates.”

  “Other inmates!” I shouted, not bothering to mask my anger, not caring if my voice carried through the whole of the cell block. “What are they holding me for? What have I done?”

  He leafed through some papers on the desk, shaking his head. “Not my business to ask. Not when it involves one of your family.”

  “So I could be imprisoned here for no reason whatsoever?” I asked. “Maybe I haven’t done anything wrong at all but someone wants to keep me locked up. Did that even occur to you?”

  He set down the paper he was holding and frowned at me. “Please, Your Highness. A member of the Court will be along soon to discuss your arrest. Just hold tight until then. I am sorry, you know.”

  “I know. You can’t do anything about it,” I muttered, hanging my hands through the bars of my door.

  The scene in front of me…shifted. One moment I was staring out into the prison block, stark and bright under the swaying electrical lights, the next…the next I saw the seashore. Nana holding my hand…Zagger pulling me from the wall…

  I jerked away from the door, pressing the heels of my hands against my eyes. It hadn’t been just a memory. I saw all of it. Saw the sky and ocean, smelled the salt and smoke, heard the crash of waves and the cry of gulls, felt the wind around my neck. And all the time, in the back of my mind, that sad sighing voice crying a song.

  I’m going mad. I’m going utterly, barking mad.

  I pulled out my pocket watch, staring at its shattered face. My mind flitted back to the night, not too long ago, when Hayli had grabbed it from me and smashed her heel against the glass. I could smell the rain, feel the charge of the air from the oncoming storm…but I wanted to see her face. I remembered it, streaked with rain, the wind blowing her hair across her cheek, but I couldn’t see it. In my mind all I could see was the broken watch.

  I know what you are, she’d said. I don’t know how you do it, but I know you can draw down power to yourself. But Shade, if you keep doing it, this is what you’ll become.

  A stomped-on watch? I’d asked her, intentionally obtuse.

  She’d held out the watch by the chain, letting the gas light reflect off a hundred broken pieces of glass.

  Fractured, she’d said, her voice thick.

  I hadn’t wanted to believe that she’d been on the verge of tears, but I knew better now. And she’d been right.

  I slipped my hands back through the bars and let the watch dangle from my fingertips, watching it sway and gleam in the cold light.

  “So, do you think they’ll bring them here?” the older prison guard asked the other.

  I froze where I stood, but my ears perked up, curious. Bring them? The mages?

  “Doubt it,” the other said, rubbing a hand over his ginger hair. “Can you imagine? I wouldn’t trust that lot in any kind of prison. That would be a bit of a disaster in the making, don’t you think? And besides, there’s too many of them. We don’t have room for all of them.”

  “What’ll they do with them, I wonder?”

  “Round them up, take them out of the city,” the younger guard said, disinterested. “After that, I don’t rightly care what they do with them.”

  “You think they would kill them all?”

  My breath snaked out.<
br />
  “I think it’s none of my concern. Far as I can see it, they don’t much deserve to live.”

  “You don’t think that’s a bit wrong, do you?” the first guard asked. “I mean, they’re just folks.”

  “Folks who want to kill the King, remember?”

  They abruptly fell silent, and both of them glanced in my direction. I made no motion, pretending that I couldn’t hear them.

  The older guard dropped his voice, but not enough. “What is all this business, anyway? Keeping him here? What’s he done?”

  “Not our concern, Gein.”

  “They said crimes against the Crown. The boy’s a rogue, but he’s not a traitor.”

  “Gein! That’s enough.”

  I pulled my hands back through the bars, pocketing the watch as I retreated into the cell. Time to go to work. If what I’d gathered from the conversation was true, things were so much worse than what Kor thought. I didn’t have time to play at diplomacy. Those guards were talking about a full-scale execution of my kind. It was too late for words.

  I climbed up onto the cot and stood on the metal bar at its head, smoothing the blanket down where my feet had made wrinkles. Then, concentrating as hard as I could, I reached out my hand, feeling in my thoughts for the cold iron bars of my cell door. Once I had them in my mind, I closed my hand in a fist and pulled back, hard. The door clashed in its lock. It didn’t open; I hadn’t expected it to. But it was enough.

  I could hear the guards shout, the door of their station slamming open. Footsteps running toward me. I held my breath, watching as they approached my cell and smiling as their faces went white with shock.

  “What the blazes?” Gein gasped.

  He grabbed the cell door and shook it, but it held fast in its lock.

  “Did he get out? How could he get out?” the ginger asked, peering through the bars. “There’s no way. That’s impossible.”

  “I didn’t see anything, did you see anything?”

  “Nothing! This is madness.”