“If I ask you why you have Crevan’s fullest attention, Celestine, will you tell me?”
I sense Carrick about to speak, but I jump in. “Only if you agree to represent me first. In writing,” I add.
He smiles. “The problem is, no matter what is going on with you and Judge Crevan, I’m not sure that I can win your case. It was a curious one from the start. You’re Flawed, not for aiding a Flawed, which should have carried a prison sentence, but instead for lying about it. You admitted it yourself in court. After lying about it, which puts a stain on your character already. But the fact is, I want to know what has gotten Crevan so anxious. And I’m wondering if knowing is worth losing for.” He looks at me and thinks. “Currently, I’m swaying toward yes.”
He stands up and paces, walking back and forth over Wayne the cowboy rug.
“Ah, yes.”
He stops and smiles as if he’s listened to my silent rebuttal.
“I understand now. What you want to do is argue the Flawed case entirely, which is a human rights issue that would ordinarily be taken to the high court, which would defeat your case because no lawyer of any quality has represented a Flawed outside of the Guild for fear of being seen to be aiding a Flawed, even if money changes hands, which I’m guessing it won’t because you don’t have any. No, what you need is someone like Enya Sleepwell from the Vital Party fighting in your corner, but your boyfriend would know all about her, being entrenched so deeply in her campaign.”
At first I think he’s talking about Art but I notice he’s looking at Carrick. I’m confused.
“Oh, no, Mr. Angelo, you’re mistaken, Carrick doesn’t have anything to do with Enya Sleepwell,” I explain.
“Ah. Oh dear. She doesn’t know about you and Enya Sleepwell, does she, Carrick? Are you going to enlighten her, or shall I?”
Carrick swallows.
THIRTY-FIVE
“ENLIGHTEN ME … PLEASE,” I say, feeling fear and anger rising, as I look from Raphael to Carrick and back again.
“Your boyfriend’s mission, should he choose to accept it, and let’s face it, he already has, was to get you in his care and carry out this plan of action, so that Enya Sleepwell could use you in her campaign. She’s aiming for the Flawed vote, and no politician has ever tried that before. As you may know, the Flawed traditionally don’t vote in elections, despite it being one of the few rights they have left. What’s the point in a Flawed voting for a politician who controls a society they are not technically part of?
“Going for the Flawed vote is a clever but risky tactic. Enya needs more than just the Flawed on her side, and in order to do that she needs people to believe in the Flawed. How can people believe in the Flawed? Celestine the hero to save the day. It’s a vicious circle. How much of her campaign rests on your shoulders alone, Celestine?” He’s looking at Carrick. “I bet a lot.”
“How do you … That’s not exactly how it…” Carrick stumbles.
“Hmm.” Raphael looks at me again. “Think for yourself, Celestine.”
I’m so shocked by what I’ve just heard, the idea of Carrick being in cahoots with Enya Sleepwell, that I can’t tear my eyes off Carrick. He won’t meet my gaze; he’s looking down, uncomfortable, fingers toying with the frayed knees of his jeans.
“Hair pulling, name-calling, and catfighting later. Eyes back on me, eyes back on me,” Raphael says with a smile. He makes his way to his desk, slides open a drawer, and takes out a piece of paper. He fills it out, hands it to me.
“This is a standard agreement binding us as lawyer and client, but it will do.”
I take my time reading it. It is a short and simple contract, worded to say that Raphael Angelo represents the interests of Celestine North. No obvious tricks.
“So tell me”—he sits on a footstool and leans toward me—“what do you know that’s so bad that Crevan the fox is hunting down poor little Celestine?”
“Don’t tell him,” Carrick says as I stand up. “We don’t know if we can trust him.”
“Trust?” I spit angrily. “So you do know the word?”
Carrick looks away, annoyed, with a shake of his head.
“And we’re off,” Raphael says with a sigh, and folds his arms.
I turn my back to Raphael, lift my T-shirt, and lower the waist of my trousers.
Silence.
Then Raphael sucks in air. “A sixth brand. On your spine.” He stands closer to me, inspects it. “It’s not in the Guild paperwork. They’re illustrious for their paperwork. It’s your word against his.”
“There’s footage of Crevan ordering the extra brand on me,” I say, measuring my words. “That’s what he’s looking for.”
He leans forward, raises his eyebrows. “Footage? Well, now, that changes things.”
“Well, there’s more,” I say. “The guard wouldn’t carry out the brand,” I explain. “The spine is not an official branding zone and there was no anesthetic; it’s outside of Guild guidelines, so Crevan branded me himself.”
Raphael’s eyes almost pop out of his head. He stands and paces while he thinks. I can see the excitement in him, though he’s trying to hide it, and it’s confirmed to me that I’ve got something here. I’ve really got something against Crevan.
He stops pacing. He looks at me sympathetically, suddenly very sad. Genuinely.
“I must apologize, Celestine. I’m afraid I’ve let you down. I’ve fallen for the oldest trick in the film, which is to jump the gun, assume I’d heard and seen everything in my time. I missed the fact there could be a twist. I’m afraid I’m a man of black and white, of right and wrong. Just as I wouldn’t offer a Flawed alcohol, I couldn’t aid a Flawed who is on the run, in my home. I have seven children and too much to lose.”
Carrick stiffens beside me.
“We have an exceptional camera system around this house. Our friend Crevan has given us plenty of reason to have them. I saw you arriving from quite a distance away. As soon as I saw you, I instructed my dear wife, Susan, to alert the Whistleblowers.”
Carrick lets out an angry curse and he jumps to his feet, hands making fists. He towers over Raphael.
“But”—Raphael holds a finger up to Carrick—“we’re living out here for a reason. The nearest Whistleblower is one hour away, at best, which gives us forty-five minutes to devise our plan. So”—Raphael looks at Carrick nervously, curiously, slightly amused—“let’s get devising.”
THIRTY-SIX
“COME ON, CELESTINE, let’s get the hell out of here,” Carrick says angrily, giving up on his very visible desire to beat Raphael to a bloody pulp.
“How macho of you,” Raphael says, amused.
“Stop it, the both of you.” I raise my voice. “Carrick, we need his help.”
“His help?” he asks, appalled. “He just called the Whistleblowers on us.”
“Just on Celestine, actually. I didn’t think they’d come any quicker if I mentioned you.”
I look from Carrick to Raphael, feeling torn. We’ve come all this way. This is the only plan I’ve got. Raphael Angelo is the only lawyer ever to overturn a Flawed ruling. I need him. Without him, what do I do? How do I take my case to Judge Sanchez?
“Fine. You stay,” Carrick says. “I’m not sticking around. I don’t trust this guy. One more second here and we’ll land ourselves back in Highland Castle.”
“Carrick, wait.” I turn to Raphael. “Can he and I talk privately?”
“Sure. Tick, tick, tick,” Raphael says, watching the clock over the fireplace, which I notice for the first time is a pair of “human hands” in the pointing position wearing marigold gloves. Raphael leaves the room.
Carrick faces me, arms folded, jaw square. Black eyes. “We can’t trust him.”
“What was he talking about when he mentioned Enya Sleepwell?” I ask shakily.
And even though he’s trying to be cool about it, his body language changes.
“Look, Celestine.” He comes to me, takes my hands gently. “Now is not
the time to talk about that.”
“Now is exactly the time. I need to know the truth.”
He sighs, annoyed that I’m killing time. “Enya Sleepwell approached me during your trial—she wanted to contact you. She wanted to help you. She’s running a campaign entirely based on your principles, compassion and logic, those were your words, you’ve seen them on every lamppost and billboard in the city. I told her I’d help her find you, but it was difficult. The press was at your house, your school. I couldn’t get to you. Pia Wang was on your case.”
“You came to find me because Enya Sleepwell asked you to?” I ask, feeling the tremor in my voice. I hear him say those words to me when I was walking down the corridor to the Branding Chamber. I’ll find you. I waited for him in those weeks afterward, thinking it was something else, a connection or a bond of some sort, but it wasn’t. It was a favor to a politician.
“Wait, Celestine, listen,” he says impatiently. “Enya was the one who was at the castle for me when my trial was over and I was allowed to leave.”
“She helped you become an evader?”
He looks around and lowers his voice. “I can’t say that. She guided me. Gave me tips. Who I could trust and who I couldn’t. She received information that my parents were at Vigor, which we now know came from Alpha and the Professor. I didn’t know it then, but he must be funding her campaign. She has a lot of resources. It was through Enya that I met Fergus, Lorcan, and Lennox. She has plans for the Flawed, she puts like-minded people together. There’s strength in numbers. Her campaign just needs you. You’re the key to all this. She wants to meet with you but she can’t, given that you’re wanted. She’s not the enemy, Celestine, she’s trying to help us.”
“Does she know about my sixth brand?”
“No,” he says firmly, and I believe him.
“She was at the supermarket riot. I remember seeing her.”
He freezes.
“Lorcan and Fergus were there, too. You were there. I never thought about it before, but why were you all there?” My eyes narrow suspiciously.
He doesn’t say a word.
“Carrick. Talk.”
“We were told you were going to be at Alpha’s house.”
The revelation leaves me feeling like I’ve been punched in the stomach. Alpha invited me to a gathering at her house, and I felt that she’d tricked me. I was called up to the stage in front of hundreds of people, placed in front of the microphone, and expected to tell my story. Something rousing. Something inspiring. I couldn’t get a word out of my mouth. I choked. I had nothing at all to say to those people who wanted so much from me. The arrival of the Whistleblowers was what ironically rescued me.
“We went there to find you,” Carrick explains. “I thought it was the best chance of me getting to you. Obviously when the raid occurred we couldn’t go inside. After the raid, we followed you and your granddad from the house. We saw you go into the supermarket.”
“You set me up in the supermarket,” I say suddenly, and from the look on his face, I know that’s exactly what happened.
He stutters and stammers his version of events, but it doesn’t matter how much he tries to twist it.
“You set me up,” I say louder.
“I needed to find you, Celestine.”
“You could have tapped me on the shoulder and said, Hi, Celestine, it’s me, Carrick. Remember me?” I say sarcastically, voice trembling. “You didn’t have to start a riot.”
“I needed Enya and everybody else to see how good you are, how brave you are. Under pressure, you’re a real hero, Celestine.”
“I’m not a hero! I’m just a normal girl who did the right thing! There is nothing heroic about anything I did!” I say with frustration.
“We have become so lost in the fear of making mistakes that nobody is acting on gut instinct. You are rare. Celestine, believe me, we need Enya, and she needs you. She needed to see that you’re worth getting behind, that people can believe in you. Fergus and Lorcan believed in you straightaway at the supermarket; they’ve backed you all the way since then. Nobody expected it to turn out the way it did. Nobody expected the police officer to behave the way he did. I just wanted people to see your strength, how you stand up for yourself. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
My head is racing.
“You set me up,” I roar now, and he falls silent. “Because of you, because of what happened in that supermarket, I had to leave my family.” My voice cracks. “I had to run away from the people I love. You got me into this mess.”
“No, Celestine, no,” he says, hands out at me like he’s trying to tame a wild horse.
“You’re just as bad as Art,” I spit out, the anger and hurt coursing through my veins. All that I’ve been through since that moment, and it’s because of Carrick. I was following the rules until Lorcan and Fergus stood beside me in line. Three or more Flawed are not allowed to gather together. And for the second time, my life changed forever. “So if Enya Sleepwell is going to help me, why don’t we sit tight until the election is over? When she’s in power, she can put an end to the Guild herself; she can free the Flawed or whatever it is she is intent on doing.”
“Enya needs you to convince the people that the Guild is worth disbanding. You’re the only Flawed person the public has ever really rooted for. You’re allowing them to see that we’re human; it’s because of you that they’re hearing our stories, and only through sharing our stories can we make changes. The more Crevan chases you, the more people are questioning his motives. But most important, you have the tool to do so. You have the footage. It’s what everybody needs to see.”
But I don’t have it. A secret that I’ve kept from him. I feel the blood rush to my face. I’m accusing him of being a liar but I am one, too. But isn’t his lie worse?
“Enya Sleepwell is just another person who needs me for her cause,” I say. “I can’t trust her. She’s trying to get the Flawed vote so that she can climb the ladder to her own success. If she’s elected as prime minister who knows what she’ll do then? A U-turn on every promise she made? And where will that leave me? You’re right, Carrick. I am on my own. Everybody is in this for themselves, and I have to start thinking of me. I don’t need anybody. I don’t need you.”
He blinks in surprise, obviously hurt. His eyes go from black to brown, brown to hazel, green flecks appear.
And before I change my mind, I say, “Please go. I can do this on my own.”
I leave the room in search of Raphael, who is no doubt listening to everything transpiring between me and Carrick. He’s in the kitchen feeding mushed banana to the baby.
“Thirty-five minutes until the Whistleblowers get here,” he says. “Tick, tick, tick. You’re staying?”
I nod.
“You’re alone?”
The front door bangs and the car engine revs. I truly am alone now.
THIRTY-SEVEN
“WELL, THAT ANSWERS THAT,” Raphael says jovially, giving the spoon back to the baby for her to finish, but the food is sent flying around her face, the table, and the room like a catapult. “Well done, Maple,” Raphael congratulates his daughter on her eating talents. “Don’t worry, Celestine, you’re not completely stranded. I have a car you can take. One that you stole, after you threatened the life of my child and forced me to hand over the key.” He turns to his children. “Ash, isn’t that right, dear?”
She nods, big blue eyes serious. “She was so scary, Daddy, I thought I was going to die!” she says dramatically, disturbingly credible, and the others laugh.
“Good enough,” he says. “Now, let’s get to work.”
We sit outside in his back garden on wooden benches at a table, the trees our only counsel.
“Who knows about the sixth brand?” he asks.
“The guards—”
“Names, please.”
“Tina, June, Funar, Bark, Tony. Crevan. Then there was Mr. Berry.” I pause. “And Carrick.”
He looks at me
to see if I’m serious.
Nobody knew that part about Carrick.
“If I’d known that then…”
“What?”
“Well, it’s just that … he has a purpose. He’s important. He’s a witness, Celestine. I would never have let him go if I’d known.”
I close my eyes, groan, and rest my forehead on the table.
“And Mr. Berry was filming this,” he continues.
“Yes.” I speak to the table. “From the viewing room.” I sit up again. “And now he’s missing. As are all the guards.”
Raphael looks up from his notepad in surprise.
“Pia Wang also knows about the sixth brand. She’d started asking some questions, but she’s missing, too.”
He takes off his glasses. “You trusted Pia Wang?” he asks, as though I’m a fool.
“She also writes as Lisa Life.”
His mouth falls open.
“She was looking for the guards, to question them,” I say. “She was building a story against Crevan. I haven’t heard from her in over two weeks. My mom and dad know about the brand, but they didn’t witness it and they don’t know that Crevan did it. I didn’t tell them. I’m not sure if my sister knows; we never discussed it. The Guild has been leaving my family alone. Kind of. But they took my granddad in for questioning two days ago. He knows about the brand and that Crevan did it.”
Has it been only two days?
“They’re trying to get him for aiding a Flawed,” I continue. “Then there are some students I went to school with who know. They kidnapped me and locked me in a shed, stripped me, and photographed me.” I say this all without emotion, and he stares at me in shock. “They are Logan Trilby, Natasha Benson, Gavin Lee, and Colleen Tinder.”
At that, he drops his glasses on the table and his eyes go even wider. “Come inside.”
I follow him into the kitchen and he switches the TV to Flawed TV, which the children groan at. There is a Pia replacement reporting. A beautiful blond with icy pink lips and cheeks like the Good Witch, who smiles through every hate-filled word she says. Photos of Logan, Colleen, Natasha, and Gavin appear. Natasha’s is a selfie after her lip injections. She looks ridiculous, like a blowfish. I’m not sure why I’m looking at their photographs, at all their silly, smiling faces. Like butter wouldn’t melt. I know the truth.
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