Each passing day that Bram does not ask for me just makes the jitters worse. Kendall has taken to showering at a nearly obsessive level, while I think Draven has stockpiled enough syringes of the power-boosting potion to fortify a small army.
And then one morning Edgar does not appear at breakfast to sit with us. I know, somehow, that it’s today. Like the first day, I wait anxiously with the others in the locker room, the metal pocket watch turning sweaty in my hands and a syringe at the ready.
Draven waits until there is a knock at the door before he injects me with the full contents of the syringe. We don’t want to waste one single second of my heightened powers.
This time, when Edgar shows up to lead me to The Underground leader’s study, he’s noticeably more patient with me. He isn’t exactly afraid of me, he’s just…waiting for something.
Edgar has come alone. That is, in and of itself, a good sign.
“C’mon,” Edgar says. “Let’s go before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?” I flinch inwardly at the unease that comes out in my voice.
“To take a final bet on whether or not you’ll be able to do it,” Edgar says. “I’ve got a two-to-one that you’re not half as powerful as anyone says.”
He stares at me expectantly until I jump a little and nod. “Right. I’ve got to show Bram that I’ve figured it out.”
“Well, what else have you be using all that food for?”
He snorts a laugh, but from the way he’s looking at me, I know he’s not telling the entire truth about the bets. I test a little burst of Psychic magic to read him, this time working more carefully to keep it a secret. I’ve spent the last few days trying to work on my technique, but it’s still not perfect.
Edgar shows no sign that he knows what I’m doing. What I find makes me straighten up before I follow him. He did not bet against me at all, but rather, in favor.
Let’s hope for my sake, he’s right.
Before I go, Cedric catches my upper arm and plants a kiss on my forehead. The moment his skin touches mine, he gives me the shortest glimpse into his head. I leave with a swell of hope that was not in me a moment earlier.
Never before have I heard two sets of footsteps that echoed so ominously. The walls of The Underground feel close and dark. I’ve never quite felt the press of the disorienting in-between here before...but today I do.
It pushes its thick, unnatural hands against the outer walls of the complex, squeezing, pushing, pulsating like a giant organism slowly digesting everything inside. It takes everything in me to calm my jitters. The last thing I want is Bram, or anyone else, reading how nervous I actually am.
“So, d’you do it then?”
Edgar’s question catches me off guard.
“What—”
“The boy, did you kill him?”
The question is so brash, it takes me a moment to think up a reply.
“I…I guess in a way, I did.” There’s no point denying it I guess. With any luck, I’ll be out of here in less than an hour. As soon as I think it, I feel another swell of emotion—and I realize why.
Cedric’s touch was more than reassurance. He’s held the link ever since.
My hands stop shaking knowing, though I’ll be alone with Bram, I won’t actually be alone. The stolen potion has finished pulsing through my veins, the pocket watch ticks in my pocket, and the power of my three other mages presses into me. I don’t know if the veil will sever it, but for now, it is at least enough for me to raise my head up high.
Edgar catches me doing this and tilts his own to the side.
“I think I misjudged you, Octavia. Maybe you are one of us after all.”
If he means ruthless and willing to do whatever it takes to get what I want, then he’s right.
For the first time, Bram waits for us outside the space that leads into his office.
The sight of him there when we turn the corner almost makes me lose my resolution. He once told me he ran The Underground because of his power, and for no other reason. Each time I am near him, I remember how true that is.
Power emanates from him in unsettling quantities. It is more than how he stands erect, his plane-shifting cane in one hand, his eyes watching unwavering from the moment he spots us.
This is his element, and I am the intruder. I am not a guest or even a prisoner. I’ll do well to remember that.
It is in this moment that I realize the feeling that has been following me for the last day. The way that other mages look at me, the way that Edgar looks at me, how Brendan suddenly does not have hatred written across his face when he looks at me—it is all the same. It is how I look at Bram. It is knowing that one other person has the power to completely change my fate.
He gave me a tool that has given me the same power over him, and he knows it.
Bram tips his hat to me as we approach.
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to bring your four paired with you, Octavia. Oh wait, sorry, isn’t it three now?”
His words are meant to sting, and they do.
“I’ve learned to do it without them,” I say. “Or, at least, without them physically by my side.”
Bram gives Edgar a curt nod. “You’re learning fast.”
“Not fast enough.”
His eyes rest on my face for a moment, reading me. Because of my heightened powers, I feel when a soft wave of magic combs over me. This time, I meet him with an outer barrier as well as an inner one. I make sure that he finds nothing.
He raises his cane and taps it once upon the ground, opening the tear in the wall. Bram motions for me to step through first, and I do.
There is a split second where I stand in the office alone. The gentle flickering of the fireplace paints the walls with orange light. It catches on to the edge of the table and casts a massive shadow across the wall that, for just a moment, looks like the arched back of a cat.
Only one thing has changed since I was here last.
There is a chair placed opposite Bram’s at the desk.
I sense Bram the moment he enters the room. He steps up beside me and motions for me to take a seat.
For a terrible, furious moment, I am frozen to the spot. This single, unexpected thing has sent me reeling. My heart thuds against my ribcage, my thoughts spiral, and terrible nausea overwhelms me.
In my sudden panic, I press the second dial.
36
Octavia
This time when Bram enters behind me, I make no sign that the second chair surprises me in the slightest. I wait for him to offer it to me, and I take it.
Something seems off, wrong even, about sitting in his presence. I’ve come to expect unease around him, so the sudden familiarity of the simple gesture makes me even more uncomfortable. This is, I am sure, exactly what he meant by it.
Thank god he doesn’t go so far as to offer me tea. That would really be my undoing.
“Octavia, let’s get straight to the point,” he says, leaning forward across the table. I note he keeps his cane closer than ever, not just leaning against the table, but still in his gloved fingers. “I brought you to The Underground for a singular reason.”
“I know,” I say. “To stop time at the tribunal.”
Bram sucks at the inside of his cheeks, accentuating their hollows. “No.” He leans back. “I brought you to The Underground for so much more than that.”
He waves a hand over the top of the table. All the papers, the drawings, the charts—they flutter away to reveal something underneath. “My mages are tired of hiding away in the dark. Not everyone is as suited as I am to the places in-between.”
It is a massive blueprint of the in-between and how it overlaps with Manhattan. All across it are a series of marks, each one designating, I can only guess, a place where Bram has made a tear in the planes between the two.
“I…I don’t understand.”
Bram folds his hands on his lap.
“Either The Underground is allowed to come out into the ope
n, or we pull them in here with us.”
There are so many holes between the two planes, I don’t know how people don’t just wander through.
“But…what’s the point?”
Bram is watching me when I look up at him again. “What’s the point of any of it?”
My eyes fall back down to mark the pattern of the tears. It’s almost like he’s woven a tapestry of carefully laid traps. It makes sense now, why the veil is so thin all throughout the city. Edgar must be wrong. There is a reason for it after all.
“These aren’t…”
“Active yet?” Bram says. “No. My powers aren’t as cut and dry as I like to let others believe. Neither, I think, are yours.”
I still can’t wrap my head around it.
“But why would you want all these people here? Most of them, millions of them, they aren’t even mages. There’s no purpose for them.”
“That’s the thing,” Bram says. “There is.”
He stands now, towering over me from across the table. “Only mages can survive in the in-between. Everyone else is just…” he pauses a moment, “Leverage.”
I knew Bram was evil. I knew this whole effed-up organization was evil. I just didn’t think it was all so…supervillain evil. These sorts of things don’t happen in real life. People don’t just threaten the lives of some ten million people just to…what? Be allowed to deal drugs and perform dangerous magic on the streets of Manhattan?
But then again, time loops aren’t supposed to exist either.
I remember what Bram once told me back in the house of the rich man he tried to get me to mercy kill. Boredom and power do not mix well.
Bram’s powers have made his life too easy. It can’t be exciting to be the leader of a crime syndicate when there’s no chance anyone can catch you.
I cannot come to terms with what he’s told me, and what I need to convince him to do—so again, I press the dial.
The second time that Bram offers me a seat to show me the blueprints, I try to stall. Once he shows me those prints he will never let any of us go. He can’t. There might still be time to tell the tribunal and evacuate the city. Bram wouldn’t have time to catch up, and he knows it.
Instead of sitting, I pretend to be engrossed in one of the other papers on the table. It’s one I’ve seen before.
“Your cane,” I say, nodding to the device still clutched in his hands. Some things, I see, do not change. “Does it do more than just open a tear in the planes?”
Bram guffaws. “Just tear a hole in the planes?”
I shrug. “I guess I’ve gotten used to it.”
“Well I’m sorry you’ve already become so unimpressed with us,” Bram says. “I’ll do my best to change that in the future.”
“Sorry,” I say, quickly, “That isn’t what I meant.”
“What did you mean then?”
Bram’s fingers no longer twitch at the edge of the table, eager for the reveal that’s supposed to shock me. I could be wrong, but I think he sounds a little wary. There is a suggestion in his tone that doesn’t bode well for me.
“I’m interested to know more about you,” I say. “About this place.”
The grip on his cane only tightens.
“Remember what I once told you?” he asks.
How could I forget?
“You expect fear or respect,” I say. “I think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten both those things.”
“But I haven’t, have I?”
It takes me a second to realize what he means. His eyes have fallen to my hand in my pocket. Even without looking down, I catch the slight glint of gold in my clutched hand.
“What have you done?”
I don’t answer. I just press the dial.
Over and over again, I press the dial.
In seventeen variations, Bram discovers my betrayal. In six of those, he almost kills me before I can turn back the clack.
In three, Bram threatens to have each of my mages killed in various, horrific ways. The one that sticks to me the most is force-feeding them a potion that will make them tear themselves apart, limb from limb, starting with their own eyes.
Each time, I work to learn more about Bram—what makes him tick, what he finds valuable, what he really wants.
And each time, I come to the same conclusion.
Bram does not want for anything. All that he values he’s already told me. Power is everything. And I am power, and so, as the variations repeat over and over and over—one thing becomes evident.
Bram will never let me go. Not now. Not ever. Not for any reason.
I would know. I’ve tested them all.
Each time I reset the pocket watch in my hand, I feel the pull of power being drained from me. Minutes turn into hours. Dozens of them. Days. I must try one hundred different scenarios, one hundred different attempts. And then I try some more.
In the end, I am exhausted. Bram steps up to my side once more, and he offers me a seat before him at the table. That, each time, is the same. It signals the beginning.
This time, it signals the end.
I can sense I am at the very last of my powers. If it is a well, it is dried up. If it is a pool, it has trickled away. If it is a chalice, or a goblet, or whatever mages want to call that store that is at our beck and call—it has well and truly run out.
I have one last chance, one more opportunity to reset time…but I have nothing left to try.
I sit in front of Bram and this time, I simply flop my head into my arms.
“I’m disappointed in you, Octavia,” Bram says, settling in across from me as he has so many times before. It’s also not the first time he’s told me he’s disappointed in me. In fact, of all the sentiments he has expressed in the dozens of times we’ve had this same chat—it is the overwhelmingly most common sentiment. “I’ve given you days to rest.”
“Well, it’s not enough…is it?” I say, pulling myself up and leaning back in the chair.
We survey one another for a moment.
“It’s never going to be enough,” I say, quieter this time.
It is Bram’s turn to lean back in his chair. The way he looks at me, there is something a little different then all the other times. This time, when he sums me up, he is not left angry, or shocked, or even disappointed.
Unless I am mistaken, for the first time in all the times, Bram is pleased.
“Only once we realize that, Octavia, can we truly be free.”
I lift my head a bit. For once, Bram is not rushing to show off his elaborate plans to alter the course of magic forever. He just watches me, a disgusting mixture of self-gratification and glee on his face. He’s finally broken his protégé.
This was it. This was the whole point of it.
This is why he offered me assistance in the first place. He knew that once I was stuck inside his world it would only be a matter of time before my will was broken and he could truly bend me to his own.
His followers are not here because they respect or fear him. They are here because they are too broken to envision anything else.
Bram has continued to speak, though I’m so caught up in my own thoughts that I’ve missed some of what he says.
“At first, I thought you’d be different. I’ve known powerful mages before, but never quite any like you. I knew I’d have to break you fast.”
I can’t find my voice. I’m still trying to process what he’s saying.
“I tried everything. Sending you straight back to the school to be caught, poisoning Flynn, trying to get you to end a life…but none of it phased you. Each time you rose above it. You solved it. You pushed forward.”
His words cut into me. Everything, all of this, I knew it was all just a game to him. But even Flynn? Flynn.
“I almost lost him because of you,” I choke out, unable to keep the thick emotion from my voice.
Bram just shakes his head. “The real shame,” he says, “was killing the boy.”
Nausea rises in me, threateni
ng to overwhelm me. Michael, the young mage. There’s no way Bram was really responsible. It was me, my fault. I’ve come to terms with that. Or at least I thought I had.
“But the potion…”
Bram shakes his head. “You know, you really did try. It’s a shame you weren’t more surprising. Everything you tried, I already anticipated. You’re really no different than any of the others after all. You are weak, Octavia.”
That is where Bram is wrong. Though, as I look down at the watch I’ve drawn out of my pocket, maybe he is more right than either of us know. There is no way I would have done what I’m about to do before I came here.
Maybe he has broken me after all. I just didn’t break the way he planned.
My mind turns over. I thought I’d tried everything, but maybe, maybe there is another option after all.
I don’t remember standing.
I came to this room with the intention of convincing him to let us go. It was futile at best, I know, but from the moment he showed me those blueprints failure was no longer an option. At first, I thought maybe we could just slip away. Maybe we could escape in a void of frozen time to warn the tribunal.
But they will not listen to us. No one ever listens to us.
So instead, I have to do something drastic.
If we cannot escape while Bram is here, and we cannot stop him, then I have to end him.
“There is one thing you did not anticipate,” I say, my voice wavering. I clench my hand at my side.
“And what is that?” Bram asks.
I was once taught how to go past the very limits of my magic. I know the pain that will come, but I draw it forth anyway. It scrapes at the inside of me—dragging knives of pain through the very fiber of my being. I pull everything from inside myself, and then I pull from them too.
Kendall. Draven. Cedric. After tonight, they will know the pain of having magic pulled from parts of themselves that they didn’t know had any magic left.
But after tonight, they will be free. Pain for freedom. It’s a fair enough trade.
Abandon: Book Three of the Forgotten Affinities Series Page 18
