by T. C. Edge
“Artemis has been in contact,” she says immediately.
A hush hits the room. I think of the words that came to me in my sleep, the words of Burns: He’s calling…
“He wishes to arrange a meeting,” my grandmother goes on. “It is as we expected. He has no option but to negotiate a truce…”
Her words cause a bubble of fury inside me.
A truce? With that man?
The thought sickens me, as it must her. But she’s a leader, responsible for all these people. She can’t allow personal feelings to get in the way.
“So, he’s giving in is he?” grunts Freya. “Always the case with cowards and bullies.”
“We can’t be sure of that, Freya,” says Lady Orlando. “Artemis is too crafty to be fully trusted. We will meet with him under strict conditions, agreed by both parties, to ensure it is a peaceful negotiation. We will hear him out, and discuss terms. But, do not underestimate him.”
“And when is this meeting to take place?” asks Rycard.
“Tomorrow afternoon at 4 PM.”
“Where?”
“We will meet with him beyond the western perimeter gate. We will have our men posted along the walls for security. He will no doubt bring his own force of bodyguards with him as well.”
“And you don’t think he’ll try to kill us all?” questions Freya doubtfully. “This sounds like a trap to gather us all in one place.”
“It isn’t a trap,” asserts Beckett, surveying the white-haired half-Brute with narrow eyes. “If he tries to take us out, he’ll suffer the same. It serves no one to try anything stupid, and we’ll be in the stronger position around the western gate.”
“But what about his soldiers in Outer Haven?” I ask. “He’s still got a load of City Guards out there, and Con-Cops, right? I thought they controlled the outer regions in the west?”
“Not so much after the last 24 hours,” says Beckett. “We’ve driven most out and, as we know, the majority of the Con-Cops remain in the factories and warehouses in the east. We’ll go with a large host. We’ll be well protected from all sides.”
“Hmmmm. Sounds like we might be leaving Inner Haven a bit undefended,” I say.
“No, we certainly won’t,” yawns Beckett, who remains rather irritated by my general lack of knowledge and experience of such things. “We know what we’re doing, Brie. We have all of this in hand, despite your well-informed reservations.”
The sarcasm in his voice isn’t lost on me. I send him a short glare but little more. As far as I’m concerned, I’m quite within my rights to question the motives of the man who created this entire damn war. And, now that I know who he truly is, and what he did to my family, I’m only liable to be even more distrustful of him.
“Brie, your concerns are fair,” says my grandmother with a little smile. “But Beckett has our security well in order. This is merely a meeting to discuss terms of peace, and while we’ll remain wary of anything untoward, it’s an opportunity we cannot miss if it will save lives.”
Her old grey eyes sway across the room, moving from one to the next.
“I wish to have all of you at my side when we meet. We are a group of mixed races, genders, and ages, and will present ourselves as such to Artemis and his cohorts. Ours is a positive vision of the future. His is archaic and inhuman. Gather your mental faculties overnight, and do not allow personal feelings to boil over when we come together.” She looks directly at me on that point. I can understand why.
As she concludes, a timid voice issues from the corner.
“And me, my Lady?”
I turn to see Alfred sitting at his workstation.
“Ah, Alfred. No, you will do as previously ordered, and return to the church. I believe Marler is down in the atrium now, ready to transport you over. Is that correct, Beckett?”
Beckett nods.
“He’s all ready to go, along with a few of our men. He’ll take Alfred and come back with Adryan…”
“Adryan?!”
A pulse erupts in my heart for a second, the name causing a jolt of adrenaline to surge through me.
My grandmother smiles once more.
“Yes, Brie. Adryan is returning to the city…”
7
I wait with a sense of giddy anticipation that is such a rarity at a time like this.
It’s a feeling that I can’t and don’t want to suppress, an oasis in this desert of worry and grief that, when you find it, you wish to never leave.
Right now, I’m lingering around the edges of the City Guard HQ, watching the sun melt away below the edges of the buildings, creating this strangely mesmerising sunset as the light filters through all the hanging dust that continues to hover above the remains of the High Tower and inner city at large.
The entire site, of course, remains as busy as always. The people continue to clear the rubble and search for survivors, discovering several more pockets where several Savants managed to hide. They’re drawn out, well on the way towards dehydration but otherwise in decent health, each one helping to erase some of the red in our collective ledger, drawing us slowly back into the black.
Rycard continues to operate in his new capacity, arranging the City Guards in protective units and handing them over to Beckett to be used for our cause. Those who remain torn are given more time to transition, while some continue to choose to put down their weapons and provide their aid elsewhere, beyond the scope of military action.
From Outer Haven, more squads return from their patrols, most of them made up of our own men but some now utilising the new forces we have at our disposal. Among that number, Magnus and Titus have put themselves forward, keen to help more civilians to safety from the war-torn, ravaged streets to the west and south of the wall.
They stamp down the street, only two in a number of Brutes now part of our cause, and fill me in on what they’ve been up to. I’m delighted to see that Titus’ doubts have now been fully allayed, his devotion to helping the people superseding any animosity he might hold towards us for toppling the High Tower.
That sort of thinking is necessary at times of war. The shared desire among the good people of this city to help those in need is what carries us through and brings us together. Any rifts, minor or major, are sealed or up stepped over in favour of saving lives.
Right now, that’s the priority that we all buy into.
My brother returns too, a little while before the sun starts to set. His reappearance settles my natural concerns for him, a tendency I can’t seem to escape despite who he is and what he’s capable of.
But, seeing what happened yesterday with Kira, I’m well aware that he isn’t the most potent hybrid out there, and that he’s perhaps more vulnerable than I once thought.
I find him splashed with dried blood and painted in soot and grit, his eyes hidden behind a dark covering of dust. That grimace he wore when he left early this morning doesn’t appear to have lightened, and his usually bright hazel eyes continue to creep out from narrow, weary slits.
I sit with him for a while, happy to see him back safely but still slightly concerned by his demeanour. He slumps wearily against one of the pillars outside the HQ, staring out at the centre of the city that he never saw up close in all its glory, and tells me he returned to the site of Kira’s disappearance looking for clues.
I ask if he found any. He shakes his head, still seeming a little lost.
“Nothing. No trace at all…”
He doesn’t mention what else he got up to that day. But, judging by the state of his clothing, and the mere fact that he said earlier he needed to ‘let off some steam’, I can only assume it involved lots of dead Con-Cops.
He clearly needs to rest, something that’s been lacking for all of us recently, but perhaps him most of all.
“You’ll need it,” I say. “We’re meeting with our…with Cromwell tomorrow.”
I almost said grandfather. It’s right there at the front of my mind. I draw it back in case he should survey my thoug
hts through instinct and find the truth. In some ways, I wish he would. I promised our grandmother I wouldn’t reveal it, but this wouldn’t be that. This wouldn’t be my fault. It would be nothing but an accident, an unfortunate turn of events.
But, not so unfortunate from my point of view. I still think he should know, sooner rather than later.
He appears too tired to offer much reaction, or even look into my eyes to try to gauge more than I’m revealing in just my words.
“When? Where?” is all he says, still leaning back on that large grey pillar, his eyes staring forward.
“Erm, tomorrow at 4 PM, just outside the western gate. You should speak with Lady Orlando about it.”
He nods, takes a breath, and begins to stand.
“And then get some rest, Zander,” I say as he gets set to trundle off. “Please, for me.”
He draws up a weak smile, and nothing more.
That was a little while ago, before the sun began to settle for the night. Now, with my brother’s safety no longer an immediate concern, I stand and wait for Adryan to return, a straight swap for Alfred by all accounts.
“I prefer working with Adryan,” lady Orlando told me after the meeting earlier.
She did so with a sufficiently bright glint in her eye to make me think that she did it for me as well, perhaps as a means of compensating me for keeping my mouth shut about her true identity, and that of Director Cromwell.
Either way, I can’t deny my delight at the thought of having him back. I still consider the church to be under threat out there, and would much prefer to see Adryan right here with me.
Pacing from side to side, I watch the streets carefully for his return, and eventually catch sight of an armoured vehicle rumbling on through from the northern side of the side. It rolls up towards the City Guard HQ, working its way around the rubble, and comes to a stop a little way down the street.
Marler steps out first from the front, and my mouth curls into a grin. Then, a couple more soldiers empty from the vehicle, with Adryan following behind.
I find myself hurrying straight towards him as his feet hit the streets he’s trodden so often, and his eyes immediately turn towards the central platform where his home once stood.
Yet, my rushing frame is enough to gather up his attention, and he turns to me as I press straight on. Reaching him, I clatter into his arms, completely losing my cool, and feel my body lifted right off the floor as his limbs coil around me, wrapping me up tight.
Hanging from his body, our lips are drawn together, the world disappearing behind my eyes as we kiss. Suspended off the ground, I can feel his heart thudding as our bodies press tight, feel the grip of his strong fingers, digging into my back as he holds me firmly, unwilling to let go.
I feel a tension begin to leave me as we lock together, his presence drawing this stress from me like poison from a wound.
Only here, perhaps, with most of my friends safe and sound, and the direct threat of attack currently muted, am I able to allow myself this moment. Let myself relax in his arms and give in to the desires that I cannot deny.
For a good few moments, he just holds me tight as our lips attach, before gently slipping me from his grasp as I drop back to the ground. Then, with a look of sorrow, his gaze swings back to the platform, and he takes a moment to inspect his old home, crumpled in a heap before him.
There’s no need for words. I slip my hand around his, our fingers interlocking, and stand with him as he surveys the devastation. And, unlike most of his people, he does so with a mourning that marks him out from the rest.
After a few minutes, he nods slowly to himself, draws in a breath, and turns back to me. The smile returns.
“I’d better go and see Lady Orlando. Top floor of the HQ, right?”
“Right,” I say.
“You wanna come too?”
“Sure,” I smile.
Hands still linked together, we set back off to the summit of our base of operations, working down the street, past the pillars, and through the atrium. Adryan surveys it all as we catch up, walking slowly so as to give us a bit of time before Lady Orlando snaps him up and sets him back to work.
For him, the last few days have been strangely slow. For me, they’ve been hectic, filled with highs and lows, losses and kills, the returns of old friends and departures of new ones.
He knows most of what’s been happening, of course, and seems well informed about my personal activities.
“Lady Orlando’s been keeping me up to date,” he informs me when I query him on it. “I’m happy you have your friends back with you. That’s great, Brie, really great. I’d love to meet them…”
“And they’d love to meet you!” I say quickly. “We were only talking about it this morning. I didn’t expect you back so soon.”
“But you’re happy I am, right?”
He lifts one corner of his mouth into a cheeky grin. I’ve long forgotten that he’s not so naturally inclined as others at showing emotion.
“No, not really,” I counter, flat faced.
He recoils for a moment, as if working out whether I’m joking of not. Then, before my forced expression falters, his own lifts back into a smile.
“You’re joking,” he asserts. “You got me.”
I laugh, and right there see the other side of the coin: his deficiency at being able to fully grasp my sarcasm and humour.
Personally, I find it endearing.
“But, you are happy?” he questions again, just to make sure.
“Very happy,” I beam.
And, just to completely seal the deal, I kiss him again, right there in the foyer.
We continue towards the lifts, and Adryan continues to scan the interior. Then, as we enter and begin to slide up, his sharp mind picks up on our past experience of this place, when he came to pick me up after Woolf’s interrogation.
“You know,” he says. “Now that we’re in control of the building, perhaps you could check the archives for details about your father?”
I smile awkwardly.
“Yeah, that’s not a bad idea,” I say.
We’d discussed exactly this many weeks ago, when he’d promised to try to find information about my parents in exchange for me actually going through with my mission. In the end, neither happened. He still seems guilty about it, his conditioning and desire to always complete a job clearly causing the issue to leap right back into his mind right here in this particular building.
“I’m sorry I never could help on that,” he says. “The archives were on level 12, weren’t they? I recall that’s where you met with Agent Woolf in the SCU, and they were on the same floor. I’ll take a look for you, how about that?”
“Um, no, that’s sweet Adryan, but it’s OK. I actually already checked, but, er, there wasn’t anything.”
He frowns and cocks his head a little.
“But, you just said it wasn’t a bad idea, as if you hadn’t looked yet?”
“Well, yeah. I’ve looked, but nothing came up. Thing is, I only know my dad’s first name, so I’d never find him…”
He’s shaking his head already.
“No, that’s not true. You just need time. If you search for all former City Guards with the first name of Maxwell, you’d be able to narrow the search down by their enhancement. In your dad’s case, by looking for Hawks. They also come with pictures, I assume, and you know what your dad looks like, and his general age, so you’d be able to find out from…”
“Stop, Adryan,” I say, the doors to the lift opening on level 15. “Just, leave it. I’m not interested anymore, all right? It doesn’t matter.”
I step out of the lift away from him. He follows behind a second later, a little confused.
“Right, if that’s what you want,” he says, eyeing me closely. “I just thought...”
“It is,” I say. “We both know my parents were taken to the REEF and terminated, just the same as so many others. So let’s drop it.”
I walk quickly down th
e corridor and away from the conversation. Keeping secrets really isn’t my strong suit, and I can react in strange ways when harassed and pressed.
In the end, all that probably does it make me seem more guilty, or that I’m trying to hide something.
So, half way down the corridor, I stop, spin, and take a breath.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I know you’re just trying to help. It’s just, I mean, look at what we’re dealing with out there. With all those people dying, it hardly seems to matter that my parents were killed nearly two decades ago. I’m like Zander now, I’ve pushed it to the back of my head. I’m focusing on the future.”
He listens closely, those silver eyes of his still reading me better than most are able to. Then, he lifts a small smile and just says: “OK, that’s a good attitude.”
It probably is, although it’s not the truth.
The truth is that Director Cromwell is my grandfather, that he destroyed my family, and that if my last act on this earth is to take his life, I’ll consider mine to be one well lived.
8
My reunion with Adryan is brief, and somewhat indicative of the flow of our relationship. A passionate kiss, a deep sense of longing, followed by a little bit of bickering and the swamp of seriousness that always seems to blight any private time we get together.
I expect it to all be topped off by a long evening spent in the service of the rebel leader, for him at least, but am pleasantly surprised on that front. After being told to wait outside by Lady Orlando, I find Adryan rejoining me only a few minutes later.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
He raises his eyebrows and lightly shrugs his shoulders.
“I’ve been given the evening off to get settled in,” he says. His eyes work their way towards the lift at the far end of the corridor. “Apparently my quarters are on the floor below.”
“Right, so you can be called here quickly if you need to be.”
“I suppose so,” he says. “I’d actually hoped…”
