Invader: Book Seven in the Enhanced Series

by T. C. Edge

  It says a lot that I’m already beginning to assume the worst, and that we won’t ever see her again. The manner in which she was taken, and the powers of those who snatched her away, suggest that we’re dealing with a formidable force. To take out her and my brother so quickly, and with such ease, and all the while doing so without causing them serious harm, is quite, well, frightening.

  Yet it’s the mystery of it all that gets me the most. No one knows who these people are. No one knows where they came from. No one knows just what they want with her.

  It’s the sort of thing that grates on someone like me, always hunting for the truth. Right now, the last thing we need is some formidable foreign force appearing from nowhere and wreaking any further havoc.

  But, as I say, it’s all speculation, and as Alfred works away in his corner, gathering intel from our many teams across Outer Haven, it seems that no one has seen anyone matching the description of Kira’s kidnappers.

  They came, they saw, and they conquered us in a flash. And now, they’ve disappeared like shadows in a black night.

  Gone. Vanished. Never to be seen again.

  It’s mystifying.

  So, on the meeting goes, with Cromwell the focus of the discussion. Yet for the first little while, my mind continues to chatter away at me about Kira, trying to come to some reasonable conclusion as to what happened.

  In the end, I wonder whether she was taken for information. Whether, perhaps, there’s someone else out there, other than Cromwell, who we may have to contend with. It seems the only rational explanation…

  “Brie…”

  I’m drawn back into the conversation by Lady Orlando, withdrawing from my thoughts and back into the room.

  I find all sets of eyes on me.

  “Yes…Lady Orlando.”

  “You seem a bit distracted,” she says. “Maybe you should go and get some rest.” Her eyes lift to Tess, still up against the wall and trying to remain invisible. “Tess, is it?”

  Tess nods.

  “I don’t think we’ve met yet, have we?” asks Lady Orlando.

  Tess shakes her head.

  She seems rather daunted by the rebel leader, so famous as she now is.

  “Would you escort Brie back to her room please.”

  “Um, of course…” says Tess.

  “I’m OK,” I argue. “I don’t need to rest.”

  “Your eyes say otherwise, Brie,” says Lady Orlando. “You took a nasty hit to the head. You need some time to recover. There’s nothing you’re going to miss here.”

  “But…what about what you said to Rhoth, sending soldiers to him. What about our people in the mines? What about Cromwell? What’s the next step?”

  I feel like I’ve probably missed a few updates whilst embroiled in my own thoughts. It’s possible all these questions have already been posed and discussed, if not now then before I arrived.

  “We have yet to decide,” says Lady Orlando. “At the moment, the priority is making sure we cater to all those in Outer Haven who wish to come here. Until Artemis shows his hand or attempts contact, that is our focus.”

  “It’s a period of consolidation, Brie,” says Beckett. “That’s what happens when you occupy a city. You take it, then you make sure you hold it. We cannot consider making any attempts to strike at the REEF now without suffering heavy losses.”

  “And what about the people in the mines? And Rhoth?” I ask.

  “I didn’t lie when I told Rhoth we are gathering a force for him,” says Lady Orlando. “Our numbers are swelling rapidly, and we’ll be able to keep up our end of the bargain soon. And regarding our people in the mines, Pearson remains vigilant. They are safe there for now, and any attempt Artemis might make to find or attack them would be out of character for him. He thinks too logically to commission such an act. I know him far better than any of you, as you are all now aware. I don’t believe he will see petty revenge as a priority, especially if it won’t actually weaken our cause...”

  I glance at Rycard, itching to speak. I suspect that he’d love to arrange an escort party to go to the mines. His thoughts, despite the heavy workload and responsibility now resting on his shoulders, will rarely stray too far from Sophie and Maddox.

  Lady Orlando takes a breath, before concluding: “In fact,” she says, “I expect Artemis to make contact soon and arrange a meeting, which is something we are also actively pursuing. That is the likely course of action he’ll take. His plot has been foiled. He may have no choice but to concede some level of defeat, and negotiate a peace.”

  “Peace?” I say, recoiling. “You really believe he’ll sue for peace?”

  I see doubt throughout the room. Rycard, Freya, even Beckett and Zander appear unconvinced by such an assertion. Lady Orlando isn’t blind to their eyes. She looks around the space, from one face to the next.

  “Artemis was, and remains, committed to seeing his people prosper,” she asserts. “We have struck a clinical and fatal blow right to the heart of that plan. Now, what does he have left? Only slaves and agents. What remain of his true people are here, within these walls with us. Further conflict will only lead to further loss of life. I’m not sure that benefits anyone.”

  “You seem to have more faith in him than I do,” I huff. “I guess, after the things I’ve seen, I just expect him to try to destroy us all.”

  My instincts tell me the others in the room feel the same. If we have truly destroyed his plan to spread his Savants across these lands, then what does he have left?

  “The desire to destroy for vengeful reasons is an emotional, human response,” says Lady Orlando coolly. “Does Artemis possess such a capacity? Will he seek to kill us all, even it is means that all traces of his true purpose are erased? These are questions that we cannot yet answer, not conclusively. I admit that my opinion on the matter is merely my own, and that while I know Artemis well, I haven’t seen him for many years. In that time, he may have changed. Yes, he has done awful, awful things to the people of this city, but he’s done so for the express purpose of serving his people, serving the Savants. If that remains his priority, peace may be his only option.”

  She talks with her usual calm fluidity, her words largely convincing. In the end, only time will tell what will happen. Yet, however unemotional Cromwell appears to be, I’ve seen that flicker of rage across his face. I know that there’s some part of him that feels anger, hatred, a part that will be seething and stewing right now.

  I suppose I may just be projecting onto him how I might feel or react. If it were me, what would I do? Would I strive to gain vengeance on those who wronged me, who destroyed thousands of my people? Or would I merely agree to shake hands and settle, confine myself to a lesser life and let the villains who ruined everything have it their way.

  Honestly, I just don’t know.

  “And, what about you, Lady Orlando?” I say. “After everything Cromwell’s done, will you just let him have peace?”

  I put her on the spot. All eyes swing to the desk, the little old Lady of the Nameless sitting upright and firm, her posture perfect despite her age.

  I see her eyes darken, a shadow spreading through them.

  “I wish Artemis dead,” she states unequivocally. “He has done reprehensible things, unforgivable things. I don’t wish for peace with that man. But, like him, we may not have a choice either.”

  The thought repels me. And while we’ve thwarted his plot, and taken the city, and achieved more than most of us can conceivably have expected, it’s not enough.

  Because while he still lives, I honestly don’t see how there can ever be a peace.

  27

  Tess accompanies me back to my room, just as requested by the rebel leader.

  By the time I go, however, the meeting is all but drawing to a close anyway. Zander, like me, appears exhausted after the day’s exertions. And the likes of Beckett and Freya too, both of whom commanded other kill squads in Outer Haven, could probably do with a good long rest.

&nbs
p; Rycard, meanwhile, has had his hands full managing the new City Guards, their numbers expanding by the hour. According to Tess, who was summoned from Compton’s Hall to look over me when I was brought back, the streets are now swimming with them, as well as the huge numbers of Outer Haveners pouring through the gates.

  The half-Hawk, therefore, has plenty to be getting on with.

  As we reach my room, my eyes fall to Kira’s bed, tucked up in one corner. Our brief spell rooming together has been very much cut short, a hole left by her absence.

  “Is all that true?” asks Tess as I stare at the empty, unmade mattress on the floor. “All that about these Elementals I mean. That’s what that guy called them down the line, right?”

  “Yeah,” I mumble. “It’s all true, Tess.”

  “Sounds like the kid you told us about last night. You know, that fire-manipulator who destroyed his village. What did you say his name was?”

  “West…”

  “Yeah, West. You think it’s related somehow? Maybe these soldiers you saw came from there?”

  The thought’s an interesting one. I turn to her, nodding and thinking.

  “Maybe. I mean, the soldiers looked nothing like the people I saw in West’s head, the ones who destroyed his village. But then…that was years ago. Maybe they’ve changed. Or maybe there are others…I don’t know.”

  I feel completely drained, and move towards the desk in the room. It was, of course, previously an office, and so the desk remains, tucked up against the wall. I slide on top of it, my legs dangling off, my posture sunken and weary.

  Tess moves over and takes a seat beside me. We both look at Kira’s bed.

  “I could stay with you if you want,” she says softly. “It’ll be like old times.”

  She lays a consoling arm over my back. A smile hovers weakly on my lips, my head sinking towards her shoulder.

  “Won’t Mrs Carmichael be expecting you back?” I sigh, my eyes growing heavy.

  She tightens her grip.

  “It’s OK. She knows I came here to help when you were brought back from Outer Haven. I don’t have to go anywhere.”

  “How come they didn’t ask her to come? I would have thought they’d ask her.”

  “They did, But…she was busy with Brandon.”

  “Brandon? What do you mean?” I ask, lifting my head.

  “Oh, he’s been let out of his holding cell. She’s trying to reintegrate him, you know, take him back under her wing.”

  I let out a little puff of air.

  “Her charity never ceases to amaze me. Do the other kids know yet? About…Nate?”

  She shakes her head.

  “They just know he’s not around. I guess they’re assuming the worst.” Her voice turns to a little growl, and she adds: “Bran’s got a lot of making up to do.”

  “I guess,” I murmur, my head fading back towards her shoulder. “He seemed pretty cut up about it all. I don’t know, it wasn’t really his fault. He’s just a kid who got caught up in something he didn’t expect.”

  “Yeah, maybe. But he left the academy of his own accord to go looting. He might have been taken in by that gang, but before that he went off looking for trouble. Some kids are just bad eggs, Brie. Some kids are just rotten.”

  A breath rolls out of my lungs.

  “Maybe…” I whisper.

  My posture continues to sink, my head pressing harder against her as she grips more firmly around my back. It’s a comforting squeeze, and I feel a fresh sense of grief approaching, the losses of old friends and new taking their toll as my eyes linger once more on Kira’s empty mattress.

  Tess’s presence, however, is soothing. We sit for a little while in silence, her fingers running through my unwashed hair, my mind busy with the recent memories of what I’ve seen and heard and done.

  I feel like I’m about to break down, as if Tess being here is weakening me, opening me up and laying my emotions bare.

  All it will take is for her to whisper: “It’ll be OK,” and the dam will probably burst open, the tears spreading forth.

  But she doesn’t speak, and neither do I. We both just sit in that heavy quiet, tucked up next to each other, sitting in this room we now may share together, something we’ve done for many years.

  But not like this. Neither of us are the same as we were. There are things in my head that, even with my gifts, I won’t be able to erase or forget. Things that will appear in my darkest dreams and assault me when I’m feeling low. Things that will crawl up from the recesses, from the deepest pits in my mind, and continue to batter and wear me down.

  It’s something I have to accept. Losing people you love and care about will eat away at you. Killing people will do the same. Bundle all of that up together, and you know that life will never be the same again. That it will never be easy. That you may never find peace or happiness after the things you’ve been forced to endure.

  I’m slowly learning that. Learning that any innocence I had in me before all this started has been lost, snuffed out like the many people I’ve now killed. Learning that the life I once had, one I thought was difficult and on the long road to nowhere, was nothing compared to what it’s become.

  But, in the end, I cling to the hope that we’re doing some good. That despite all the casualties, the deaths, all the horror that’s befallen this city, we will come out the other end better than before.

  If the next generation can live free in an equitable world, then that will justify everything we’ve done, justify the person I’ve become.

  We’ll be able to look back and know that it was all worth it. That all those we lost, all those we killed, didn’t die for nothing.

  That, in the end, is all we can hope for.

  I fade away as the minutes roll by, sitting next to Tess on that desk, until I wake with a jolt as I threaten to slide off.

  Tess smiles down at me.

  “OK, let’s get you into bed,” she says.

  I slip groggily to the floor and drop straight to my mattress, Tess pulling the single blanket over me and tucking me up tight. Her fingers glide through my hair a couple more times, and I quickly drift away into the darkness as she hovers above me, whispering a few soothing words to send me on my way.

  The dreams come that night, beginning the assault that will become a regular fixture for me. Perhaps I’ll be able to dull them, learn some tricks from my brother to make life a bit easier. But until that time, I’m laid bare, my mind a blank canvass to be attacked by the demons that begin to breed within.

  They come at me in waves, waking me at intervals. My eyes crack open like a fissure in the earth, and the light breathing of Tess filters comfortingly from across the room, a sound I know so intimately, a sound that helps give me peace.

  I check my watch and see that it’s just past midnight, my mind only able to withstand the torment for less than an hour before forcing me to wake. I drop my head to the pillow once more and begin to slip away. It seems like mere seconds before I’m gasping for breath and sitting up again, my body drenched in sweat and eyes damp with tears.

  I see faces flashing before me, faces of men and women I’ve killed. Faces of friends I’ve lost or fear will follow. I check my watch again and see that it’s barely past 1AM, and once again the soothing sounds of my sleeping friend filter into my ears.

  I take a few deep breaths and try to relax, my body still weary and eyes aching wildly. I fall once more to the pillow, my heart-rate thrashing as the images of blood and death continue to play out before me.

  I refocus on Tess’s breathing, and start to fall back into the void of my mind. Back into the pits where the beasts and devils lurk, staring up with their red eyes and sharp fangs and eager claws, ready to drag me back into their horrifying domain.

  I’m unable to withstand the lure, casting myself back into my subconscious. It seems intent on destroying me, harassing me with such wild abandon that I continue to wake, again and again, until I can stand it no more.

  The
final assault brings two faces to my mind that I haven’t seen in a little while. I snap my eyes open, with no intention of trying to fall back asleep, and check my watch to see that it’s a little past 4 AM.

  I sit up, and closing my eyes see the forms of my mother and father, so perfectly seared into my memories. See the details of their faces as they gaze at me, just a little baby in their arms, the two of them somewhat forgotten amid all of this mess.

  The last time I saw their picture, it was sat in my lap as I sat chained to that horrible metal chair. As I awaited my doom at the summit of the great tower that no longer stands.

  I don’t know where that picture is. I don’t know if it fell when the tower did, or was snatched up and taken off to be destroyed or stored as evidence by some guard or agent of Cromwell.

  I don’t know where…

  My trail of thoughts stops immediately. Sitting up in the darkness, a single word battles forward, growing larger in my mind.

  Evidence.

  I lift my eyes, slowly towards the ceiling, and imagine what lies beyond. Imagine the floors above, many of which I haven’t seen, but a few of which I have. One sticks to mind; the floor where the Serious Crimes Unit used to operate, where Agent Woolf’s terrible dungeon-like office is found.

  I think back to my first and only trip there, but not to the interrogation I endured, or the appearance of Commander Burns, the only a Deputy, as he stepped in to save me.

  No, it’s to another room on that floor that I think. To a room just down the corridor, near the central foyer.

  A room that, weeks ago, I wished so desperately to enter.

  A room where, maybe, I might find some answers.

  A room labelled: Archives.

  28

  I slip from my bed, my body slick with sweat, and move towards the door.

  Glancing at Tess, I see her still sleeping soundly, seemingly unencumbered by nightmares as I was. I turn the handle and open the door as quietly as possible, stepping out into the brightly lit hallway here on level 2 where my temporary quarters have been assigned.