Sleep evaded me once more. I could still feel the chocolate, thick and black on my tongue. It had woken something inside me. Something beautiful and electric and wrong. I vowed to increase my dosage of supplements and withhold all other foods until the toxins were elutriated from my system. I would be strong, as hard and clear as the diamond that I’d worn in the casino.
After our usual meditation the next morning, Daddy looked over us with a grave expression, blinking with slow, heavy sadness.
‘There is an aphotic in our midst,’ he said. ‘A festering wound. It spreads poison among us.’
His eyes met mine, and a chill passed through me. He knew.
‘There is no pain greater than that of a parent betrayed,’ said Daddy. ‘A parent – a Daddy – puts his trust in his children. He pours love, strength, compassion, patience into them. He gives them everything he has in the world. They are his reason for existing. His everything. So when one of his children betrays him, it is an act of violence. An act of malice and spite.’
He knew about the chocolate. About my weakness. Could he hear the voice in my head, asking questions?
‘I sent four of you into the world on a mission of great importance,’ said Daddy. ‘I chose you because, of all my children, I trusted you to remain pure. To remain loyal. But one of you has been overtaken by shadow. You have brought lead into our home. You threaten our very existence.’
My traitorous body started to shake with fear.
I knew I should confess. Throw myself at his feet and beg for mercy. Plead with him to let me stay – to lock me up and punish me again, for as long as it took.
‘Agrippa.’
It took me a moment to register what Daddy had said. Then I turned and looked at Pippa. Her face was white, tears streaming down her cheeks.
I’m sorry. Her mouth mouthed the words, but no sound came out.
It wasn’t me.
I wasn’t the traitor.
Pippa was the traitor. Not me. Not Fox. Pippa?
‘Join me,’ said Daddy.
Hesitantly, Pippa took a step forward, then another. Her whole body was shaking with fear and silent sobs.
Daddy held out his hand, palm up. Pippa dug in the pocket of her tunic and pulled out a small item, which she placed on Daddy’s palm.
The ring. The diamond ring I’d worn in the casino. She’d stolen it.
Daddy held it up to the light, where it twinkled in the early morning sun.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said to Pippa, his voice gentle.
She nodded and gulped.
‘Put it on,’ Daddy urged, handing it back.
Pippa seemed to shrink into herself.
‘Go on,’ said Daddy. ‘I want to see it sparkle on your finger.’
Pippa’s body curved into a frightened question mark, but she took the ring back, shaking, and slipped it onto her finger. Daddy took her hand, and held it aloft.
‘Beautiful,’ he murmured. ‘It suits you. I can see why you are drawn to it.’
Pippa took a deep breath, and seemed to relax a little. Daddy didn’t seem angry at all.
Pippa didn’t know him as well as I did.
‘Heracleitus,’ said Daddy, not looking at me.
I rose to my feet and stepped forward.
‘Do you think that Agrippa’s ring is beautiful?’ he asked.
‘No,’ I said, my voice clear.
‘No?’ Daddy’s eyebrows raised in mock surprise, but he didn’t look away from Pippa. ‘And why is that?’
I knew what he wanted me to say, so I said it. ‘It is an anchor. It shackles her to the earth, dragging her down into the mud.’
Daddy nodded. ‘Do you feel it, Agrippa?’
Pippa’s face had gone white again. Slowly, she nodded.
‘The weight of it? Do you feel it chaining you to this planet? Pulling you down, further and further into the muck and the ooze? Do you feel how aphotic it is? How your actuality is drowning in it?’
Pippa fumbled at her fingers, trying to tug the ring off. But her hands were shaking, and the ring stuck behind her knuckle.
‘Do you see?’ said Daddy. ‘Have you had the avocation? Your own body is betraying you. The body wants things. In order to be sublime, you must learn to elutriate. To master your urges. But you have given in. Your body rules you, now.’
Pippa tugged harder.
‘How do you get your body back under control? How do you teach it that you are in charge – your mind. Your actuality. Heracleitus?’
I closed my eyes for a moment, and remembered Daddy’s boot sinking into my stomach, the taste of blood in my mouth.
‘You punish the body,’ I said.
Daddy turned his head away from Pippa and locked eyes with me.
‘Yes,’ he whispered, his voice almost inaudible. ‘Yes.’
Daddy held out a hand, and Val passed him a pair of boltcutters – sharp blades with red rubber handles. My stomach dropped deep into my belly, and I struggled to keep my expression calm.
Daddy mustn’t know. Do anything he says, just make sure he doesn’t find out that you have doubts.
He was trying to scare Pippa. Surely he wouldn’t really do it.
Would he?
Wait. Stay calm.
Pippa whirled around, her eyes searching out Lib. ‘Tell him,’ she pleaded, her voice high with hysteria.
Lib swallowed, then stepped forward and murmured something to Daddy. His expression softened, and for a moment I thought he was going to let Pippa go, but then his eyes flicked over to me, then back to Pippa.
He sighed. ‘I’m afraid you don’t get any special treatment, my dear.’ He held out the boltcutters to me. ‘Teach Agrippa’s body the technic, Heracleitus.’
It was another test. Like Val and the beaker of poison. He’d stop me before I actually did it. The hair on my arms stood on end, as thoughts rushed through me. I had to be careful. Very careful. Daddy was testing me. This technic wasn’t about poor Pippa at all, it was about me. How I responded was very important. I kept my face neutral as I took the boltcutters.
He wanted me to prove myself. Prove that I was still loyal. That I was still his.
Was I?
All I knew was that if he saw me flinch – if he saw any doubt in my mind – he’d cast me aside. Or worse.
He wouldn’t actually make me do it, though.
Daddy reached out and grabbed Pippa’s hand by the wrist. He folded all her fingers over into a fist, except for the one with the ring.
I slipped the boltcutters over Pippa’s finger and gripped the red handles. Pippa began to weep, her voice cracking as she begged me to stop, begged Daddy for mercy.
I paused, waiting for Daddy to tell me to stand down.
His eyes bore into mine, cold and hard as steel.
He said nothing, and I realised with a flash of horror that he wasn’t going to stop me.
There are so many things I would change, if I could. So many choices I made that I regret. This one haunts me the most. I dream about it regularly, waking each time soaked in sweat and guilt. Because I knew better. The chocolate had woken me up, and I was beginning to see clearly. I wasn’t brainwashed, a mindless zombie with no free will. I was afraid. Afraid of being punished. Afraid Daddy would see my weakness, my doubt, and hurt me again.
So I did it.
Pippa screamed. The resistance of her skin broke as the blades sliced through her flesh, then met bone. I squeezed harder, and felt the bone crunch and give way. Blood splashed onto the front of Daddy’s white tunic, and he released her hand as the piece of finger fell, bouncing on the concrete and rolling away. Pippa’s scream was swallowed up by a low moan, and she crumpled to the floor, unconscious, blood pouring from the place where her finger had been.
Daddy’s mouth spread slowly into a smile, his eyes never leaving mine for a moment.
‘Good girl,’ he murmured.
The boltcutters slipped from my fingers and I felt a wash of relief. Daddy still loved me
. He still trusted me.
‘Look after Agrippa,’ Daddy said to Lib. ‘I need her healthy.’
Then he turned and went back inside.
My relief was overpowered by nausea, and I bent double, retching. I tasted the forbidden chocolate and the acidic tang of bile, but there was nothing in my stomach to throw up, so after a moment of sweating and coughing, I stood.
Lib was bent over Pippa, wrapping her hand in a tea towel. There was blood everywhere, blossoming red sticky wet. Lib signalled to Val, and he stooped and lifted Pippa as though she weighed nothing at all. Then he followed Lib into B Block. One by one, the others dispersed. Nobody would look me in the eye. They wouldn’t even walk near me, taking a wide berth around Daddy’s stage in order to avoid passing right by me. I saw Ash whispering anxiously to Toser, and they briefly clasped hands.
That was forbidden. They didn’t belong to each other anymore. They belonged to Daddy.
We all belonged to Daddy.
I went into the bathroom and wiped the blood from my shoes. My tunic was soaked with dark red. I wondered if it would wash out, or whether I’d be stained forever.
Horrified, I looked down at my shaking hands, and remembered the crunching feeling of bone between steel blades. I had done that.
I felt sick with guilt and fear.
What else would he make me do? And what had he made others do? Had they all carried out his orders as willingly as I had? What happened to the ones who dissented?
I thought about Maggie, and Fox. I’d let myself believe that Daddy had allowed them to leave. But what if I was wrong? If Daddy could order the severing of a finger, could he do more? Could he order an execution?
I tried to tell myself that it was necessary. That Daddy knew best. That what I’d done would help Pippa, help her survive the fight against the Quintus Septum.
The chocolate voice was deafening.
There is no Quintus Septum.
I needed to know the truth. I needed evidence that the Quintus Septum existed, that the danger was real. It was the only way I’d be able to justify what I’d done.
I was sure the answers were in Daddy’s laboratory. I couldn’t enter through the storage space I’d been in with Lib, as it was in plain sight of the rest of the Institute. Someone would see me and ask why I was there. I’d have to enter through the Monkey House.
I didn’t go to breakfast. Instead I slipped around the narrow side of C Block, clambering over milk crates, weeds and broken bottles. It reminded me of the Wasteland. Minah would like it here. She’d probably try to draw it, except she’d turn the abandoned shopping trolley into some kind of monster. I remembered taking Fox to the Wasteland, and how curious he’d been.
Ugly places often have beautiful secrets.
It must have reminded him of home. Of growing up in the Monkey House. Of working there, looking after the Monkeys.
I pushed through a particularly weedy patch, and came out into the open. I was at the back of the building. There was a heavy wooden door into the Monkey House, and a neat, well-maintained path that led around the other side, back to the courtyard. That was the path the Monkeys used. I reached out and put my hand on the doorhandle, and tried to turn it.
Nothing. The door was locked. I rattled the handle a few times, but it didn’t budge. I let my hand drop to my side, and like magic, the door swung open, revealing three stubble-headed Monkeys, their faces solemn.
Up close, I could see that they weren’t all the same. The youngest one had ruddy cheeks and was missing two front teeth. I wasn’t sure if it was a boy or a girl, though. The middle one I suspected was a boy, painfully thin and pale, with hollow cheeks and an angular jaw. The tallest one had darker skin and brown eyes, and was definitely a girl. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously as she took me in.
‘You can’t be here,’ she said, her voice cold.
‘It’s okay,’ I said, surprising myself by how easily the lie came. ‘Daddy said I could come.’
The Monkeys exchanged glances. ‘No,’ said the tall one. ‘He didn’t. You’re lying.’
My skin prickled with unease. They were so different. When I’d first arrived at the Institute, the Monkeys had been plump and happy. Seeing them scampering around, absorbed in play, had been one of the things that had endeared me to the Institute, made me believe that it was a good place. But now they were skinny and pale and wide-eyed with fear. Fox had been right to worry about them.
‘Let me through,’ I said.
They closed ranks in front of me, blocking my way.
‘Go and tell Daddy,’ said the tall Monkey to the thin one. ‘Tell him there’s a snake.’
The thin, pale Monkey nodded, and scampered past me down the path. I didn’t worry too much about him – I knew Daddy wasn’t to be disturbed.
The tall Monkey pushed the door shut.
I stepped back and searched the façade for another door, or a window – there had to be a way in.
‘You won’t find anything,’ said a voice behind me, and I spun around, my heart pounding.
It was a Monkey, the one who had been hiding in the toilets on my very first day. Who ate Val’s snow peas and took his cicada husks. I recognised her freckles and orange stubbled hair. She looked older now, thinner, with dark circles under her eyes. Where had she come from? She must have been hiding in the bushes the whole time.
‘If you want to get into Daddy’s laboratory, you have to go in either through the front door or through the Monkey House. But both doors are locked all the time. Daddy has one key. But there’s another.’
‘Where?’ I asked. ‘Where’s the other key?’
‘Up in a cupboard. In there.’ She jerked her head towards the closed door.
‘Can you get it for me?’ I asked. ‘The key?’
The Monkey shook her head, and I noticed bruises on her wrists, as if she’d been tied up.
Anger and frustration boiled up inside me.
‘I have to get in there,’ I told her. ‘I can help you.’
‘You can’t get in there,’ she said. ‘Someone will see. But …’ She trailed off.
‘But what?’
The Monkey looked around, as if to check that no one was watching us. ‘Sometimes Daddy comes to the Monkey House after dinner and tells us a bedtime story.’
I shook my head. ‘So?’
The Monkey rolled her eyes, as if she thought me unspeakably stupid.
‘So he doesn’t go to the Sanctum,’ she said.
I waited. But Daddy came to Family Time every evening. Since the Quintus Septum had risen to power, Family Time had changed. We didn’t sing or laugh. Daddy didn’t tell us funny stories. Instead, we talked quietly about the coming war. Daddy told us more about the Quintus Septum, about the horrors that they would bring, and made frequent reference to his grand plan to defeat them, although he never revealed any details. We retired early, as soon as Daddy had chosen a companion and retired to the Sanctum.
There was plenty of chatter about what went on in the Sanctum. The Institute women seemed immensely proud to be chosen, and were eager to tell of the supernatural experiences they had when receiving Daddy’s actuality – being surrounded by light, floating up to the ceiling, hearing the ringing of a thousand bells. I’d been told that Daddy’s choice of companion depended on the balance inside each woman. We were incomplete without the actuality of a man, but some needed more balancing than others. It had taken weeks for Pippa’s actuality to be balanced. Currently he was working with a woman called Cibinensis – Cibby – who had large, doe-like eyes and a stammer. He never chose Lib, or Newton. They had been at the Institute for years, and their actualities had reached equilibrium long ago. Lib’s face always darkened when Daddy chose a new woman, and I wondered if she got jealous.
One night, he stood up and looked around, his eyes skating over Cibby and assessing the other women present. For a moment his gaze locked with mine, and I felt exposed, as if he was assessing my naked body, prying into my mind, my secrets, my d
oubts.
He was going to choose me.
Excuses piled into my mind. I had a headache. I had my period. I wasn’t eighteen yet. But Daddy would know I was trying to stall. I hadn’t had a period for months. I’d assumed it was because I was becoming sublime, because I was learning to control my body. Now I wished it back.
I tried to tell myself that it was an honour, that I needed it in order to be sublime. But the idea of having sex with Daddy filled me with revulsion, and no number of stories of glowing light and magical bells was going to change that. And it was happening. Daddy was going to choose me, and there was nothing I could do to stop him.
But his eyes flicked away.
‘Ashmole,’ he said, his voice light. ‘Would you please join me in the Sanctum.’
I felt a flood of relief as I saw the blood drain from Ash’s face. She glanced at Toser, who looked stricken.
‘Is …’ Ash swallowed. ‘Is it compulsory?’
Daddy’s smile took on a blandness, and I knew he was angry. ‘Not at all,’ he said mildly. ‘I would never dream of forcing you to do anything against your will.’
Ash looked relieved, but Toser’s face was still drawn with concern. He knew that it wasn’t that simple.
‘As I have explained before,’ said Daddy, ‘my technic works one hundred per cent of the time, when followed correctly. If you do not wish to follow the technic, you are free to leave.’
‘It is a great honour to receive Daddy’s actuality,’ Cibby murmured to Ash. ‘It will help you reach sublimation.’
Toser nodded to Ash. ‘Go on.’
Ash’s eyes filled with tears, and she stood up, trembling.
Daddy smiled. ‘You won’t regret it,’ he said. ‘I promise.’
Daddy chose Ash the next night as well. This time, Ash didn’t cry or tremble. Instead she wore a kind of robotic blankness, following Daddy to the Sanctum with her head bowed, her eyes never meeting Toser’s. She didn’t look elutriated, or balanced. I didn’t know what it was that Daddy had done to her, but I knew I didn’t want him to do it to me.
Looking back, I realise now that I’d already made up my mind. I knew that receiving Daddy’s actuality wouldn’t make me sublime, that nothing would. But I wasn’t ready to face what that meant. I needed something. A sign. Evidence to confirm my doubts.
The Boundless Sublime Page 22
