“I’m not sure exactly. What’s the month?”
“Oh. It’s, uh, September, I think. Early September.”
She narrowed her eyes in thought. “Almost five years then.”
Molly was silent for a moment. “Five years?” Theresa nodded. “And the doctors haven’t decided you’re cured yet?”
“Molly, the doctors are for show. They don’t try to fix people here. They just contain us.”
Molly exhaled. Five years. She tried to imagine five years under the unflagging lights, in the empty white rooms. She would be twenty after five years. A quarter of her life.
“Talk, Molly,” Theresa said. “Tell me what’s happening out in the world.”
“Right, okay. Well, things were kind of normal until a little over a year ago. That’s when I met a spirit named Ariel…”
While they talked, the small patch of light from the one window traversed the room. Other patients came and went. Lunch was served, and Theresa gave Molly her bun. She interrupted only once, when Molly described the crash of the Gloria Mundi, to ask, “Is the bastard really dead then?”
“I think so. I mean, how could he not be? But still, nothing’s changed. Haviland Industries is still running along exactly like before.”
Theresa only nodded. Molly went on with her story, describing their early attempts to spread the word about the spirits and Arkwright’s lies, and their efforts to free the spirits themselves. Molly hadn’t known she had that many words inside her. When she stopped, her throat felt raw.
“My God, girl,” Theresa said. “I’ve missed a lot, and it seems like most of it has to do with you.”
“I never did it alone. There was Ariel, and my family, and Legerdemain, and…and Toves.” She sighed. “That’s the one good thing about me being here now. I’m not going to put them in danger anymore.”
A puzzled expression crossed Theresa’s face, and she sipped her water before speaking. “So the good things you’ve accomplished, those you had help with. But the danger. The blame. Those belong to you alone?”
“Well, I mean, I started it. I got them to help, got them to keep doing it even when Da told me to stop.” She pulled at her harness, shifting it to a new spot on her shoulders that wasn’t so raw yet. “They wouldn’t have done any of it if I didn’t ask them to.”
Theresa nodded. “That’s likely true.”
“But it’s over now.”
“You mean for you.”
“For me?”
“The rest of them are still out there, aren’t they? And I very much doubt they would say this is over. What do you think they’re doing right now?”
“I don’t know. Finding somewhere safe?”
“That sounds uncharacteristic, from what you’ve told me. And besides, I doubt it’s over even for you.”
Molly frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Aren’t you wondering about the way they’re treating you?”
“You mean the harness?”
“I mean everything. They’re not trying to drug you. The orderlies have been keeping at arm’s length from you. And is that a new dressing on your nose?”
“Um, yeah. Van Orden did that this morning. It’s still healing.”
“And what aren’t they doing? You’re a criminal, after all, and the rest of your crew escaped. But have you been questioned by Disposal? By anyone at all, for that matter?”
“No. I mean, not yet. I’ve only been here a couple of days.”
Theresa chuckled. “Molly, they don’t take their time with things like this. I’m surprised you didn’t wake up in an interrogation room that first day, frankly. But they brought you here, and they haven’t touched you since. They’ve got the kid gloves on with you. You don’t wonder why?”
“No. I mean, I do now. But didn’t you say they didn’t care? That as long as we are contained, they don’t care what we do?”
“Patients they don’t care about don’t get their injuries seen to. And none of us were involved in active rebellion against Haviland Industries like you were.”
“So why are they treating me this way?”
“That one I haven’t puzzled out yet,” Theresa said.
“Hey,” an orderly called from the hallway. “Time’s up. To your rooms.”
“Already?” Molly said. “Did I really spend that whole time talking?”
Theresa nodded and got to her feet but stayed looking down at Molly for a moment.
“I hope your family is safe,” she said, then turned and went down the hallway.
“Come on,” said the orderly.
Molly stood and followed him to her room, but she was barely aware of the building around her. Instead, she was trying to answer Theresa’s questions.
What is my family doing right now? And why hasn’t Disposal come to see me?
Hours later, her stomach feeling empty even after supper, she forced herself to lie down and close her eyes. I need sleep. Her thoughts and worries about her family were reluctant to let her go though. She could think of a million ways her family might be hurt, and most of them started with an attempt to rescue her. They wouldn’t do that, would they? She squeezed her eyes shut tight. Who am I kidding? Of course they would. So even when I’m trapped, I’m still dragging them into danger.
She gritted her teeth and forced her worries away for the hundredth time. Sleep.
She breathed in and out, focusing on her lungs, her chest expanding and falling back down, slower each time, easing her reluctant mind into sleep.
And then the world went white, and she couldn’t breathe.
Her back arched, her shoulders pressing painfully into the harness bars. Her eyes snapped open. Electricity was running along her chest and arms, and for a moment she couldn’t move, every muscle in her body petrified. Finally her arms relaxed, and she batted at the blue arcs of electricity running over her. They gathered around her hands, like cobwebs, then slowly dimmed and faded.
Molly took a deep breath. Her mind spun from the shock, and for a moment all she could do was lie there, gulping air. The skin on her hands was raw and red. That felt like when the lightning hit me, she thought. But where did it come from? What shocked me?
She sat up and looked around. Is this something they do to people here? Am I being punished? Tortured? She explored her harness, reaching as far up the back as she could. She felt only metal bars and hinges—no spirit traps or devices of any kind. She looked at her bed, the walls, the floor, the ceiling. She saw nothing that might have produced the lightning.
Did…did I do that? Did it come from me?
She looked down at her hands, recalling the way the electricity had gathered in her palms like strands of wind when she took hold of them. She’d felt some level of control over it.
I’ve never done that before. Only wind. I don’t even remember seeing Legerdemain control lightning, though I know some aetheric spirits can. The big one aboard the Gloria Mundi certainly could.
She sat down on her bed. I don’t see how I could have created lightning like that, but there’s nowhere else it could have come from—not in the cave and now here too. But then, if it came from me, why did it hurt so much? She stared down at her hands. There was still a giddy feeling in her chest, like her heart was beating out of control. She lay back down and tried to breathe slowly and steadily again. But sleep was gone.
EIGHT
By the end of the night, Molly was dizzy with exhaustion. Her door clicked, and she stared at it, wondering what the sound was. It was only after several patients had passed her window that she realized her door had been unlocked, and it was time for breakfast.
Molly opened the door and followed the other patients out. Her mind still felt muddy, but moving around seemed to help.
Midway down the hallway she heard a tapping sound on her right. She looked up and saw a man at one of the windows, staring at her. He had angular features and skin that looked like it hadn’t seen the sun in too long. His hair was long and black, with traces of
gray. His dark eyes stared at her so intently that she almost withered.
“Umm, hi?” she said. Another drugged patient? She looked at his eyes, but they seemed more alert than the others’. More like Theresa’s. Still, he just stood on the other side of the window, staring mutely at her. “What is it?” she asked.
The man tapped at the glass again, at the level of her chest, and then tapped at his own chest. Molly looked down and noticed for the first time that he wore an iron harness just like hers.
Molly pressed her hand to the glass. “Are you like me?” He pressed his hand against the glass right where hers was but said nothing. “Did a spirit change you?”
“Molly?”
Molly turned to see who was calling her. Theresa stood at the end of the hallway, holding her tray. “I want to talk to you.”
Molly looked back to the window, but the man had retreated. He sat on his bed now, head down, long hair hiding his face. Molly waited a moment more, but he didn’t move, didn’t show any sign of being aware of her presence. She tried his door, but it was locked.
“I’m coming,” Molly said. She let her hand fall from the doorknob and walked down the hall to the common room. When she looked back toward the man’s room, she saw an orderly walking in with a tray of food. A moment later the orderly came out again and locked the door behind him.
Theresa was sitting at one of the tables nearest the window. She gestured for Molly to join her.
“I just saw the other person with the harness. He was at his window,” Molly said.
“Oh?”
“What do you know about him?”
Theresa chuckled. “About as much as you, I imagine. He’s been here a long while, almost as long as me, but I’ve seen him out of his room exactly twice. I’ve never heard him speak a word. And until your story yesterday, I had no idea why he might be wearing an iron harness. I didn’t know spirits could change people as they’ve changed you.”
“But we’re all spirit-touched here, right? No one else—”
“Most of us are here because we became inconvenient to Arkwright or his allies, not because we have a particular affinity to spirits. But this isn’t what I wanted to speak to you about, Molly. I want to talk strategy.”
“Can I grab breakfast first?”
Theresa waved a hand toward the kitchen. Molly went and fetched her tray—which was still without any pills—and sat back down.
“Good. You eat, I’ll talk,” Theresa said. “I’ve been thinking through your story. Particularly the way Haviland Industries has reacted to you. The Wanted posters, your sister giving speeches, siccing Disposal on you at every turn—and from what you’ve told me, I wonder if they’ve even been supplying Disposal with more advanced equipment. They’ve never done any of that before. And if I was still working for them, they wouldn’t be doing it now.” She pursed her lips and looked at Molly. “You’re what, sixteen?”
“Fifteen.”
“Okay, I’m going to assume you don’t know how this stuff works, but speak up if I’m wrong. While you’ve been fighting a guerilla war against their factories, Haviland Industries has been attacking your reputation and leaving it up to other people—Disposal, namely—to catch you. You know what that tells me?”
Molly shook her head.
“Haviland Industries isn’t afraid you’ll crash another ship or wreck another factory. They’re afraid you’ll start talking back.” Theresa looked strangely satisfied. She leaned forward over her forgotten breakfast. “They want everyone who hears your name to think of death and terror.”
“Seems like it’s working,” Molly said. “I mean, the only people who would have anything to do with me were the Unionists, and they’ve all got warrants out on them too.”
“I’d be surprised if the smear campaign hadn’t succeeded. They own the projection networks, and the newspapers follow wherever the networks go. Not hard to dictate the conversation when you’re the only one with a voice.”
“So why are you smiling?”
“If I was there, you know what we would have said about you?”
Molly shook her head again.
“Nothing. Not a word. No one would have listened to you anyway, because they’re already all too scared of the spirits. But now everyone knows your name. They made you the enemy, but along with that they made you interesting.” She was smiling now. “You have everyone’s attention. And that means you’re at the table. You’ve got a voice, if you can find a way to use it.”
“You mean if I had found a way to use it. But they caught me. It’s over now.”
Theresa shrugged.
Molly didn’t know what time it was when the orderlies came for her. It was after supper, and she had finally fallen asleep after hours of trying to find a comfortable position in the iron harness. But it felt like her eyes had only been closed a moment when the door banged open and four orderlies burst into her room. They came straight to her bedside and grabbed her arms and legs.
“What…?” she muttered, fighting against both the orderlies and the sluggishness of sleep. They put leather straps around her wrists and ankles, binding her to the bed frame. Molly fought harder. She got her right leg free before the strap was fastened and kicked at the man there. He fell back, but the other orderlies came to help. They held her leg down while the strap was fastened.
“What are you doing?” she demanded. “Why are you doing this?”
None of the orderlies spoke. The one she’d kicked rubbed his jaw as all four filed back out of her room, leaving the door open.
“Hey!” Molly shouted at their backs. “Hey! Let me out!” She listened to their footsteps retreating down the hall. The straps dug into her arms and legs as she pulled at them. She couldn’t move. “What do you want?”
There was a slow tapping, and then a figure came through the door into her room. For a moment, seeing him, Molly felt frozen. This is a nightmare, she thought. I’m having a nightmare. I’m not awake.
“What I want is a little hard to explain. It’s very technical,” the man said in a voice that was barely a whisper. But the words were undeniably there, in the room with her, in the waking world. He was really here.
Charles Arkwright. The man who murdered Haviland Stout.
But no. He can’t be here. He died. I saw him falling from the sky.
When Molly had seen him aboard the Gloria Mundi, he had been attached to dozens of spiritual machines, all working to keep him alive despite his incredible age. But when she’d freed the first-level spirit, it had torn the ship apart and sent everyone—including Molly and Charles Arkwright—hurtling to the ground.
And yet there he stood. The same horrible face, wrinkled and hollowed like the face of a corpse save for his incongruous blue eyes. The muscles in his face only moved when he spoke, as if he were a simulacrum of a human rather than a real living being.
He came to the side of the bed and looked down at her. “You seem surprised to see me.”
“How are you still alive?” She felt tears springing to her eyes, and she tried to wipe them away before remembering that her arms were bound.
“I think you overestimate your capabilities in that regard,” he said. His movements were slow and delicate, and his breathing hard. He put a bag down on her shins and opened it, pulling something out and putting it across her feet where she couldn’t see it. It felt heavy and angular. “You have inconvenienced me, to be sure, with the loss of my equipment aboard the Gloria. But I did not survive this long by being fragile, and I have found other ways to get what I need.” As he spoke, he pulled dark leather gloves off his hands. Under his skin, his veins glowed a sickly green. “What you did succeed at, however, was setting the progress of the human species back years. It was no small thing to capture a first-level spirit, and I doubt the conditions to do so will arise again within this decade. Working with inferior spirits does more damage to the fonts, making the harvests far, far less efficient.”
His face blurred as the tears gathered i
n her eyes. “Are you here to kill me?”
“No,” he said. He bent over the device at her feet, and she heard a series of clicks and pings. “I have a use for you, and since you have cost me so much, it seems only fair that you give something back. You see…” Here he trailed off to work with the device, making a series of ratcheting sounds. “There. You see, it took a great deal of machinery to process spiritual energy for my needs. It was very difficult to achieve and never perfect. However, there are some for whom that process now comes naturally. Humans who have been corrupted by the spirits to make their energies more compatible.” He stopped his work and laid a long-fingered hand on her stomach. Molly’s skin crawled. “It makes you less than human, yes, but very valuable for my purposes.”
His voice was calm, uninflected. Molly pulled desperately at the straps, already knowing that it was useless.
“I did have one question for you,” he said, pausing. “The journal you stole from me, Haviland’s journal. Is it safe? Do you still have it?”
“Why do you care?” she said through clenched teeth. “You don’t need it, and we can’t hurt you with it. No one even believes us.”
“Is it safe?” he asked again. She didn’t answer. With a long sigh, he reached into his bag again and pulled out a long-shafted key. He pushed this into the iron harness on her chest and twisted. The harness popped open, and Arkwright bent the shoulder bars back on their hinges.
As the iron lifted away, there was a pulling in her chest. Legerdemain! She could feel him, distant but clear. As he sensed her, she felt his joy and relief, and she echoed it. You’re okay! You’re safe! But the joy lasted only a moment. Molly’s own panic crept into the connection, poisoning Legerdemain’s happiness, and he began keening for her. As his call shook through her, the pale hairs on her arms rose, and the air around her seemed to thicken. Her muscles tensed, and electricity crackled across her skin.
Something heavy came down on her chest, and the feeling stopped. “None of that now,” Arkwright said. She reached out for Legerdemain, but the connection was gone again.
Terra Nova Page 9
