I wait, holding my breath, for a signal from Vanessa. I wait for the infantry to charge forwards towards the guards, but even as we enter their immediate vicinity, nobody moves save to walk briskly with everyone else. We stop when Vanessa does, ten or so feet shy of the small entrance.
'You are all Law Officers?' The guard raises a sceptical eyebrow, studying the rest of us and our lack of red arm bands.
'Auctorita employees,' Vanessa replies airily. 'Excuse me.' She takes five long strides towards the entrance, stepping past the two guards manning the crevice door. Before they have time to object, or to speak, or to do anything at all, Vlad lurches forward. My eyes follow his movements quicker than my brain does, and after a fraction of a second, Slav and the others move with him. They pair off, targeting their chosen guards with force, slamming them into the rock at their backs. The two guards stationed further along have time to move before their oppressors reach them, but it isn't enough and they, too, are backed against the wall.
'With me!' Vanessa yells, disappearing inside the rock, her blonde hair fading to black. After a moment's hesitation, Stacey steps forward, following Vanessa through the crevice. One by one, the rest of my group file inside, watching as Vlad and the others drag their victims to the floor, pinning them down with every ounce of their strength. The guards kick and thrash, trying to land blows, yelling fit to burst but Vlad and Vanessa have delegated well and the Rebels who restrain them have strength the rest of us don't.
I pass through the narrow crevice, into the darkness beyond. A small flight of steep stairs leads me below the ground, spiralling into a tight tunnel heading back towards the island. Down here the air is moist and rank, the bare stone walls glisten with salty water and the earth beneath my feet squelches loudly. There is little light – a human would be blind down here – and the tunnel is long, stretching back below the woodland until we're entombed in an underground cave. It's wide and circular, the air thick with decay and mould.
Our small group of ten stands in a line just beyond the mouth of the tunnel, staring out at the sea of bodies stretching the length of the cave. They're arranged in uniform rows, each spaced a foot away from their neighbour, each lying on their back, eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling. Each completely naked. It's enough to make me dry retch. Someone – possibly Jasmina – buckles at the end of our row, falling to her knees with a loud crack.
'Let's go,' Vanessa – though still bustling and alert – has the presence of mind to keep her voice lowered, presumably as a mark of respect. She steps forward, unshaken, and heads to the first row of bodies. When nobody else moves, she stops, furiously turning back to us. 'Have you all gone deaf?' She hisses. 'Let's move these people, now! Start from this end and work your way up. There's more of them through there,' She points to another tunnel at the other end of the cave. 'It's going to take us hours even if we move at top speed. Take one or two each and bring them back to the surface, lay them out on the sand. Maristella, America, what did I tell you about going back to the yacht?!'
The two women jump to action, sprinting back along the tunnel and out into the sun. As guilty as it makes me feel, I can't help but envy them. I'd give almost anything to be back outside in the fresh air and open space, away from these eerie bodies. Stacey, evidently braver than the rest of us, steps forward, moving to Vanessa's side. She watches Vanessa scoop the body furthest the left into her arms, carefully supporting its head. I stare as she passes, aware that I'm being uncouth but unable to look away. The body belongs to a woman, a little older than me, with lank brown hair and glassy, staring eyes. Vanessa moves too quickly for me get more than a glimpse, but she barks over her shoulder at us as she disappears into the tunnel. 'Get moving!'
Stacey takes a deep breath and bends over the next body, sliding one arm carefully under the crook of its neck, the other under its knees. She lifts slowly, holding the figure out at arms length like an unexperienced mother. As she passes, she awards me a look of horror; her prisoner is a man, much larger than she with a mop of dirty blond hair, staring with those vacant, eerie eyes. As Stacey's footsteps echo back to us through the tunnel, I force myself forward, pausing at the feet of the next prisoner; another woman, slight with long brown hair. Her skin is pale in the darkness with a slight yellow hue, sunken in parts and filthy. Her eyes have the same glassy quality as the others, still and unblinking, but as I lift her, I know she's watching me. A cold shiver runs down my spine with the sensation. When I lift her, she's as limp as a rag doll, but her skin feels stiff and taut.
I carry her back past the others, most of whom have finally got to work. I try not to look at the girl as I walk, especially as I desperately want to cover her nakedness but have nothing to do it with. As I reach the flight of stairs, I meet Vanessa on her way back down.
'Can you move any slower?' She snaps as she passes. 'Do you have any idea how many of them there are?'
The air grows warmer as I near the surface, and I feel relieved when I spot slithers of light on the stairs. The crevice looms into view and I slip through it, deliberately ignoring Vlad and the others still struggling with the guards on the ground. They haven't given up; they're still yelling and thrashing, but, when I chance a glance at Vlad, he looks vaguely bored.
The two bodies – prisoners – Vanessa and Stacey brought up are lying side by side on the sand. I lay my girl down beside the man, glad to have her out of my arms. 'You'd better move,' I tell Stacey, who has stopped to observe them. 'Vanessa's already pissed off with how slow we're going.'
'Well, it's fucking easy for her, isn't it?' Stacey's voice is strangled. 'She's seen all this before, hasn't she? Probably doesn't even remember what it was like the first time she saw it.'
'I know,' I touch her arm gently and she flinches. 'But there are quite a lot of them.'
Stacey lets out a shuddery breath, shaking her head slightly. 'Have you ever seen anything like this before?' It's a rhetorical question but I actually have an answer.
'Yes, sort of,' I nod. 'In old photos from the Nazi concentration camps.'
Stacey doesn't reply, but nods slightly as she turns away from the prisoners and heads back inside. I tell myself – as I force my feet down on the spiral staircase – that it will get easier with every body. That the shock will wear off. That, after a while, I'll fall into a pattern of averting my eyes as I work. But it doesn't get easier. The shock doesn't wear off. And no matter how hard I try, I can't help but stare at the faces of every prisoner I move.
By the time we've cleared the first cave there's barely any space left on the sand, so Vanessa tells Maristella and America to start doling out the blood. I'm just bringing up another prisoner as they open one of the big silver cases and I dawdle as I set the body down, wanting to watch them. Vanessa helps them remove the plastic pouches inside and they begin with the first prisoner Vanessa brought up, uncapping the pouch and gently prising the woman's lips open. 'Don't give them too much,' Vanessa holds the pouch carefully, crouched by the naked woman's side. 'Too much will make them too strong too quickly. They'll overpower you and take the blood for themselves. We'll feed them properly once we're off this island but for now,' She tips a small amount of red liquid into the woman's mouth. 'That will do. It's enough to revive her, and give her the strength to leave with us, but that's all.'
America watches the girl fearfully, waiting. It takes thirty seconds before the woman's legs begin to twitch, jerking as though she's having a seizure. Her arms follow, thrashing wildly, and with each body part that appears to revive, she gains control of the previous one. I step closer, reassured that Vanessa's attention is elsewhere. The woman blinks rapidly for a few seconds before her eyes come into focus, swivelling madly before finally coming to rest on Vanessa's face.
'What's your name?' Vanessa asks, with a gentleness I didn't know she was capable of.
'Natalia.' The woman replies, her voice rasping with years of disuse. She doesn't show any emotion as she lies there on the ground.
'Can you si
t up, Natalia?' Vanessa asks. The woman nods, slowly raising herself with her arms until her torso is upright. She stares at the sea before her, runs her fingers through the sand, lifts her face to the sun, and lets out a long, unearthly noise. It makes the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up. A scream; a mixture of anger and of joy. She lifts her dirty hands and clasps Vanessa's cheeks. To her credit, Vanessa doesn't even flinch.
'Thank you!' Natalia cries, her voice strangled. 'Thank you!'
'It's okay,' Vanessa soothes. 'You're okay now.' The woman holds Vanessa's gaze for a few seconds more, before her hands strike out like lightning, whipping the plastic pouch from Vanessa's grasp. She crams the cap into her mouth and squeezes the way a constrictor squeezes its prey, her cheeks going hollow as she sucks hard. For a moment, Vanessa is dazed, but she quickly comes to her senses and firmly snatches the pouch back. The woman – Natalia – growls again, making another grab for it, but Vanessa holds it out of her reach and, despite Natalia's speed, she doesn't have the strength to take it back. 'I know you're hungry,' Vanessa says gently, struggling to be heard over Natalia's angry snarls. 'But so is everybody else,' She gestures to the paralysed old Rebels. 'And we won't have enough for all of you if we don't ration. Think of your comrades.'
Natalia hisses once, her brows still furrowed furiously, but some of the anger in her eyes dies as she takes in the sight of her fellow old Rebels lying on the sand beside her.
Vanessa turns to America, who looks like she might cry. 'Just carry on with the rest, alright? Be gentle. Be calm. Reassure them. And be prepared. Natalia's won't be the only reaction like that.'
The second cave houses even more prisoners than the first. I'm not sure how long we've been on the island now, but the sun is starting to droop. As we grow used to the idea of transporting the prisoners, and we realise the magnitude of the task ahead, we pick up the pace, running instead of walking, not stopping to study the bodies as we lay them down. The woodland is already half full with naked bodies, but the sand is now covered with moving, breathing ones. They huddle together on the beach, most of them shocked and silent, but some animated, even attempting to attack the guards. Vanessa, Stacey and a few of the others have to step in to give Vlad a hand when one of the prisoners drags a guard out from under Slav's hold. I feel nothing but sympathy for Maristella and America, whose job it is not only to revive the paralysed prisoners, but also to calm them. I hear them repeat themselves over and over whenever I go up into the light.
'If you can just bear with us for a few more hours whilst we revive the rest of the prisoners – '
'I promise, we'll answer all your questions just as soon as – '
'Please, try to remain calm. I know it's difficult but – '
Finally, the last of the prisoners are cleared from the second cave and the rest of us can begin helping to dish out the blood. Most of the revived are like Natalia; grateful, ravenous and quickly placated, but some of them attack me, believing I'm an Auctorita employee, and others refuse to move, still lying on the ground until I force them to get up. I don't have time to think as I work, I don't have time to process it all or wonder what these people are feeling.
As the sun begins to set, the last of the old Rebels are revived and Vanessa begins grouping them off, talking to them loudly, reciting instructions. I can see the strain it's having on even her, trying to keep eight hundred Immortals who barely fit on this small island in check. They keep asking for clothes, more blood, to leave, to attack the guards.
Finally, one of the prisoners, a tall, blond man, steps forward, raising one arm and silencing the rest. Even though he's naked, and covered in grime, he exudes an air of authority, a little like Vlad.
He pulls Vanessa to one side and they have a hushed conversation before he turns back to the rest of the prisoners. They fall silent, watching him.
'It has been one-hundred-and-seventy-two years since we were imprisoned,' He doesn't yell, but his voice is booming and travels to each and every Immortal. 'Sirus Bathory still reigns. These people – ' He gestures to us. 'Are the new Rebel movement. They have come to free us, to revive us and to recruit us. I ask you, please, to hold your judgement on that until later. But for the time being, let us make their work as easy as possible. We are all hungry, we are all unclothed, we are all in shock. They will take us somewhere safe where we can deal with these issues and more.'
I glance at Vlad where he sits – on top of one of the guards – a few feet away. 'Who is that?' I hiss.
'Kristoff Hubec,' He replies. 'The leader of the old Rebels.'
'You won't get away with this! Sirus will find out soon enough that you've – '
'How many times do I have to tell you to shut up?!' Vlad yells, punching the guard he's sitting on in the face.
After Kristoff Hubec's speech, the prisoners calm down considerably, listening with rapt attention to Vanessa as she explains the next step of the plan. 'We will be travelling to a nearby island in the west. You will break off into groups and follow one of us. When you swim, keep far below the surface so as not to be seen. Please do not veer off course.' She organises the old Rebels into smaller groups and assigns them each a new Rebel to follow. Rounding Stacey, myself and the rest of my group up, she gives us a steely glare. 'You're to follow me. Swim far beneath the surface of the water and no matter what, stick to my route.'
'We've got to swim underneath the ocean?' I hiss at Stacey as soon as Vanessa has moved on. 'For how long?!'
'As long as it takes, I guess.' Stacey shrugs, following Vanessa to the edge of the cliff. One by one, the groups begin to peel away, climbing down the rocks and into the sea below. Once clear of the island, they disappear under the water until the only sign of them are the small ripples left on the surface. I turn to Vlad before it's my group's turn.
'Are you coming?' I ask.
'We’ll go last.' He tells me, struggling with the guard beneath his thighs.
'Won't they run straight to Sirus the moment you're gone?'
'Of course they will,' Vlad smiles. 'That's why they're coming with us.'
I scale the cliff a few feet after Vanessa, throwing myself into the sea when I get low enough. The water is cold but not freezing and I dive under, swimming down until I can be certain I'm far enough from the surface. Below, brightly coloured reefs display beautiful coral, creatures dart into dark crevices as I pass and the ocean stretches on as far the eye can see.
I follow the dark shapes half a mile ahead of me, cutting through the calm sea. It's hard not to breathe for such a long time but Stacey warned me beforehand not to do so, no matter what. I keep waiting for the burning sensation in my lungs when they lack air but it never comes. The journey is long but the scenery is a consolation and before I know it, the figures ahead of me begin to disappear. A dark shape on the surface looms into view and I swim up towards it, emerging into the cool night air a few feet away from a sandy, white beach.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucrezia.
I know the moment we step into Sir Alec's office that something is very wrong. The faint lines in the headmaster's face appear deeper somehow, and he can't keep the strain out of his voice as he tells us that father has called us back to Mount Kamen.
Malachy doesn't look pleased to be going back home after such a short period away, but he can hardly argue with father – especially at a time like this. I still haven't mentioned Carey and Miller's private conversation, and, as we sit side by side on the plane to Moscow, I consider it. Perhaps it's time I admit to Malachy all that I know; about his and Ryder's 'secret' relationship, about his awareness of Ryder's plan to escape, about his lies to father and his part in the wrongful conviction of Meredith Draper. It would make things a lot easier; I could tell him outright what I think and how to go about rectifying the damage he's caused to his future. But I can't bear to be pushed further away from him. I can't bear to watch him clam up, to watch his mistrust for me rise until he barely speaks in my presence – not now that I've just got him back aft
er getting rid of Ryder. Plus, there's a big part of me that desperately wants him to admit everything of his own free will. I desperately want to regain his trust, and for him to admit it willingly would be a sure sign that I've accomplished that.
As soon as we step into the entrance hall of Mount Kamen, the atmosphere hits me. Sombre, fearful – panicked. The guards have been doubled, the secretaries are more formal than usual, and the first corridor is a flurry of activity. 'Jesus,' I breathe, watching Auctorita Officials sprinting along the hall, darting in and out of offices, looking harassed. 'What the hell's happened?'
'I don't know.' Malachy's voice is low, his brow furrowed with worry, but his eyes are unsurprised, as if he half-expected something like this.
'Mr Beighley,' A familiar voice calls from the end of the corridor. I turn to see Ackroyd hurrying towards us, his wispy grey hair fluttering in the breeze. 'Sirus has been waiting for you. He's in his office.'
'Thank you, Ackroyd.' Malachy nods, heading past him to the familiar door on the left. He knocks, but receiving no reply, enters uninvited. I slip inside behind him and gently close the door. Father stands behind his large desk, his back to us, leaning against one of the many filing cabinets lining the walls. His dark head hangs down, resting on his forearm, and his shoulders are hunched and tense. I feel a ripple of anxiety pass through me. 'Father?' Malachy breaks the uncomfortable silence, his voice only slightly hitched. Father raises his head slowly, his red-brown eyes blank for a moment, as if he doesn't recognise us. 'You sent for us?' Father regards us for another strained moment before he finally speaks.
The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell Page 17
