'Me?' I frown, feeling as though I've been pulled back into a room I didn't know I'd left.
'You were as oblivious to this plan as Mr Beighley,' Vlad nods. 'What are your thoughts?'
'I – ' I pause a moment to consider it. What do I think of this? 'I don't think the other Rebels will go along with it.'
'They've all agreed.' Vlad replies instantly. I stare at him.
'All of them?' I frown, feeling a surge of anger again. 'Was there anyone who didn't know about this other than me?'
'Lorna Gray.' Vlad shrugs. Who reigns in the Immortal world once her mother has been freed is of little concern to Lorna, so long as Sirus gets what's coming to him.
'Even the old Rebels?' My voice rises an octave or two.
'Yes,' Vlad nods matter-of-factly. 'Kristoff discussed it with them all last night.'
'And where was I when this was all taking place?' I spit, letting my anger seep out.
'Eve, I couldn't let anyone tell you,' Vlad has the decency to at least look apologetic. 'I knew you wouldn't be happy about this meeting.' He jerks his head towards Malachy and I turn away. I'm not sure how he knows about mine and Malachy's feelings for one another, but I can only guess it has something to do with Asil. He must have wondered why Malachy cared so much that an escapee was escorted to safety. I suppose it doesn't take much figuring out.
'Well,' I shrug, trying to keep my voice even. 'If the Rebels have decided then I suppose it doesn't matter what I think.'
'It matters to me.' He says it very quietly, but at Malachy's words, I feel my anger slowly dissipate, replaced by a delicious warmth which radiates from my chest. He doesn't look at me, and suddenly I understand why he's been acting so cold during this meeting. Vlad knows that Malachy cares about me, but that's all he knows. And Malachy doesn't want him to know the full extent of his feelings in case Vlad tries to use it against him. I can't say as I blame him given his past history with women.
'Why don't Slav and I give you some space to talk it over?' Vlad suggests, standing and dragging his short companion with him. 'We'll be back in ten minutes. Come on, Slav.' As he passes, Vlad gives me a hard, meaningful stare. I know what he's trying to communicate; Get him on our side. But what Vlad doesn't realise is that I care about Malachy more than anyone else in the Immortal world, and there's no way I'd put the agenda of the Rebels before him.
Malachy and I watch Slav and Vlad traipse out of the little room and wait until their footsteps have faded away. In the silence that follows, I take a deep breath and turn to address Malachy, but before I can open my mouth he's out of his seat, a blur of movement heading towards me. I feel strong hands grab my waist and pull me forwards. I crash against a solid chest, locked in place by linked arms. Malachy's lips seek out mine and before I have time to think or even breathe, I'm kissing him back, furiously and without restraint, as if these are my last moments on Earth. My hands reach up to feel his soft hair, brushing the hood away with barely masked impatience. It seems like only seconds before he's pulling away and I try not to scream in protest as his grip on me loosens. 'Are you all right? Are they treating you okay? Did any of the old Rebels hurt you?' He speaks at a hundred miles an hour, his eyes wild.
'I'm fine!' I cling to his dark coat, my fingers ripping through the material. 'Are you okay? Did Sir Alec give you a hard time? Has your father said anything – '
'Don't worry about me,' He presses his lips against my forehead firmly. 'I'm fine. I'm so glad to see you,' He kisses me again, deeply, as though I'm something he's been waiting for all day. 'I hoped that Vlad would bring you.'
'Oh yeah, he's no idiot. He knew I was the person to bring.'
'Yes, that's my fault. Sending a message to Asil was risky, I knew it would alert Vlad to my connection with you, but there was no other way – '
'I don't care,' I shake my head. 'I really don't care. I'm just – ' I shrug, momentarily lost for words but Malachy nods as if he understands. 'What do you think?' I ask. 'About Vlad's proposal? I had no idea that we were meeting you today. I didn't know he was going to ask you that.'
'I had a feeling,' Malachy's mouth twists slightly. 'I've been wondering how long it would take for him to contact me. He's right; he's known for a long time about my... sympathies to the Rebels. He knew the moment I didn't run to Sirus when I found out why he left his Servus position.'
'But Malachy, is this – ' I hesitate. 'Is this what you want? Do you want the Rebellion to succeed?'
'I don't know,' He shakes his head, his brow furrowing with worry. I reach up to touch his smooth cheek, pained to see him so anxious. 'I'll admit that I don't like the idea of my father sitting on The Board behind me,' He speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully. 'I told you before, there are things I want to change. I had wondered how I'd make those changes with Sirus constantly peering over my shoulder. Not to mention Caruso, too. If the Rebellion were to succeed it would... make my life a little easier.' This seems to come as revelation to him as much as me.
'Do you trust the Rebels, though?' I ask.
'Do you?'
I consider his question. 'Well, I'm surprised they all voted in favour of you ruling. I'd have thought they'd object solely on the principle that you were raised by Sirus. That in itself shows that there may be an element of trustworthiness about them.'
'I agree,' Malachy nods, sighing heavily. 'I suppose I can only hear what Vlad has to say. He's assured me that I wouldn't play any actual part in bringing my father down, so the risks would be minimal to me if the Rebellion were to fail.'
'Where is your father? Why aren't you with him? Or at the Institute?'
'It's a long story. Lucrezia is – ' He tails off. 'It doesn't matter,' He cups my cheeks in his hands and lifts my head a little, so that he can stare straight into my eyes. 'I can't stay long. The Army are beginning infiltrate the major cities. I need to be careful, and so do you. If this works, Eve – ' He hesitates. I wait for him to finish his sentence but he doesn't.
'I missed you.' I wrap my arms around his neck, hugging him to me, breathing in his familiar scent. He holds me just as tightly, his face buried in my hair. We stay like that for a long time, and even when we sense Vlad and Slav returning, we don't let go. Not until the last minute, and as I turn, I think Vlad may have caught us embracing, but he doesn't say anything.
'Have you reached a decision?' Vlad cuts straight to the point.
'Yes,' Malachy replies. We all remain standing. 'My loyalty is to the Rebels, and will remain so in the event of an overthrow. So long as my part is organised in such a way that if the Rebellion fails it will have no impact on me.'
'Thought he wasn't bothered about his title.' Slav snorts quietly next to me.
'Shut up, Slav,' I snap, rounding on him. 'Do you want Malachy to be Confined and Sirus to reign for another five hundred years?'
'Your part – ' Vlad diplomatically cuts in. 'Will be very straight forward. You go home, and you act like nothing has happened.'
We wait a few moments for Vlad to continue. He doesn't. 'That's it?' Malachy raises an eyebrow.
'I told you, we don't need your help in the overthrow. We've got that covered. I just needed to know that you'll work with us when the time comes.'
Malachy nods once, seemingly happy with this information. 'So, what is the plan? How do you intend to overthrow my father?'
'I'm not that stupid.' Vlad snorts.
'Don't you think if I was going to double-cross you I'd have done it by now?' Malachy asks.
'Perhaps. But then again, perhaps you're just waiting for the opportune moment. It's nothing personal,' He adds as Malachy scowls. 'Most of my Rebels don't even know the plan.'
'It's true, we don't.' I admit.
'I see,' Malachy nods. 'So I'm supposed to trust you, but you don't have to trust me?'
'We are trusting you, asshole,' Slav spits. 'We're trusting you not to run back to daddy and tell him everything.'
'Cool it, Slav,' Vlad warns. 'It's no problem. Mr Beighley makes a
good point. Tell you what, I'll give you one small clue,' He smiles, showing all his teeth. 'The old Rebels won't be the only innocent Immortals to be handed their liberty.'
Malachy figures it out in about three seconds. 'You're going to storm the Confine?' He cocks an eyebrow.
'Perhaps,' Vlad shrugs. 'Amongst other things.'
'Vlad!' Slav snarls, giving his leader a furious stare.
'It's okay, Jaroslav,' Vlad smiles, but he's still looking at Malachy. 'We can trust Malachy. He won't tell any of this to Sirus. After all, he has friends within the Rebel movement. Asil and – ' Vlad pauses just a beat too long. Tension fills the room. 'Eve.' I understand Vlad's warning just as well as Malachy does. He's not only suggesting that Asil and I would be Confined if the Rebels were found out, he's suggesting that he himself might harm me if Malachy betrays him.
'I have to go.' Malachy says through gritted teeth.
'Before you do, I need to speak with you. In private,' Vlad says, nodding towards Slav. 'Take Eve downstairs, I'll meet you in a moment.'
Slav nods, striding towards the brick partition, but I hang back, looking at Malachy. I don't know when I'll see him again and with Vlad here I can't even give him a proper goodbye. 'Take care of yourself.' He tells me, ignoring Vlad and staring straight at me. But that's as much as he's willing to do.
'You, too.' I nod sadly, even though his eyes are screaming an apology at me.
We wait downstairs in the bar for Vlad, and I refuse to speak to Slav. He eventually stops trying and ogles the barmaids instead. A few moments later, Vlad emerges at the bottom of the metal staircase, and Malachy isn't with him. 'Let's go.' He says, heading straight for the door. I try to hang back, to wait for Malachy to leave, even if I can do no more than catch his eye, but Vlad urges me forward. Out in the cold night air, Vlad strides along the high street, searching for a cab whilst Slav and I traipse behind. The streets are a little emptier than before, but music still pumps from every direction. It's loud, but not loud enough to mask Slav's words as he hisses in Vlad's ear.
'You lied when you said all the Rebels want him to reign.'
'No, I didn't.' Vlad sounds genuinely confused.
'You did. I don't want him to reign.'
'Yes, but you're not known for your political intelligence, Slav, my friend.'
'I'm not joking, Vlad,' Slav's hissing is furious. 'I don't trust him. He's up to something. No way he can spend all that time with Bathory and not be loyal to him.'
'Slav, you don't know the full story,' Vlad sounds weary, finally spotting a black taxi and hailing it. 'There are things you're not aware of, okay?' I assume he's once again talking about Aleks; the main reason why Malachy's loyalty to Sirus has been swayed.
'I don't care what the full story is,' Slav mutters as we clamber into the cab. 'I don't trust him.'
*
The taxi trundles along familiar streets, a different way to the one we came. I hold my breath as we enter Islington, passing the old pub where my mum and dad used to spend Friday evenings, passing my old school. As recognisable as the landmarks are, I somehow feel disconnected from them, as if it was twenty years ago I walked these streets. We pass the grocery shop where my mum used to buy her veg, the tattoo parlour where my dad told me he got his first – and last – tattoo. Then we pass my old road. The one my parents live in.
'Vlad, stop the cab,' My voice sounds far away and unfamiliar. Vlad throws me a puzzled glance and the car keeps moving. 'Stop the cab!' I demand. Vlad raps on the glass partition, alerting the driver. As soon as the wheels stop turning I yank open the door and climb onto the pavement, leaning against a nearby brick wall. I'm breathing hard, my legs shaky and unstable beneath me as I stare back down Lea Bridge Road, towards my parents' house.
'Are you alright? What's wrong?' Vlad's voice is concerned as he peers over my shoulder, trying to guess what I'm staring at. Though we're on a busy main road, sound seems muffled to me and Vlad has to repeat his question before I hear it.
'My parents live there,' I nod towards the side street. 'Right there.'
'Ah,' Vlad nods, instantly understanding. I expect him to gently coax me back into the cab, tell me it's too dangerous to be this close to home, but instead, he leans into the taxi and talks to Slav. 'Meet us at the airport. We'll be right behind you. Stay alert.'
'But Vlad, the flight – '
'We've got time.' Vlad's tone is final as he slams the car door shut. I listen to the engine trundle away and feel Vlad return to my side. 'Want to go and have a look?' He asks. His unexpected question snaps me out of my trance and I peer at him in the darkness.
'Is that a joke?' I frown, but Vlad's expression is solemn. 'Isn't it, you know, too dangerous? The Auctoritas will expect me to come here.'
'You've been missing for a while now,' He glances back down the long road. 'Chances are they've long since given up on the idea that you'll come home.' He shrugs and steps forward, towards the side street, but my feet won't move. 'Come on,' He turns, realising I'm not beside him. 'I'm not suggesting you go and have tea with them,' He rolls his eyes. 'I'm not that reckless.'
I follow him warily, surprised by his nonchalance – and by his kindness. As we turn into the side street, the sound of the traffic fades and our footsteps become louder on the tough concrete. My parents live in a cul-de-sac, one of the very rare, quieter parts of Islington. As we walk, I notice the subtle changes to neighbours’ houses, to front gardens, even to the pavement. Things that only someone who lived here all their life would notice. 'Which one is it?' Vlad asks, whispering in the quiet.
'Right at the end,' I point, whispering, too. We keep walking, our breaths magnified in the still air. 'The one with the yellow door.' I nod towards the semi-detached, seemingly ordinary town house at the end of the road. I can't sense any Immortal presence, but that doesn't mean the Army haven't got the place staked out. This is a huge risk – I have no idea why Vlad is allowing this – but I have to take it.
'Just don't act like you're casing the joint,' Vlad warns me. 'Be casual.'
'Here.' I lead him to a small wooden bench off to the left of the house, where I used to sit as a child and play with my Barbies. The house hasn't changed at all; still the same butter yellow door with the big, black knocker, the same violet curtains hanging in the upstairs windows. The kitchen light is on but the rest of the house is shrouded in darkness. I stare at the kitchen window and sigh. I haven't been this close to my parents for a very long time. Knowing that they're right there, just the other side of that door, but I can't go and see them is a terrible feeling.
'Must be hard to sit here,' Vlad observes, watching me closely. 'I know if my parents were still around it would kill me not to be able to see them when they're so close.'
'How old are you?' I ask.
'Two hundred and ninety eight.'
'Oh,' I nod. No matter how many times I hear Immortals reveal their ridiculous ages, I never get used to it. 'I wish I could just make sure they're okay,' I sigh, turning back to the house. 'Hear their voices.'
Vlad sits quietly for a while, watching the house with me. Suddenly, he stands, extending a hand to me. 'Come on.'
'What are we – '
'Come on.' He grabs my hand and pulls me up, walking quickly and quietly towards the house. He doesn't use the pathway, but instead, sneaks around the side of the house, dodging under the kitchen window.
'Vlad, someone will see – '
'Wait here.' He tells me, pushing me against the brick wall just around the corner. Before I can say anything else, he hurries to the front door and raps with the black knocker. I don't have time to think, I barely have time to breathe, before the door opens to reveal a crack of warm, orange light.
'Can I help you?' I feel a rush of warm affection surge through my body at the familiar sound of my dad's voice. It's not exactly the same as it was, he sounds tired and weary, but it's definitely him. I peek around the brickwork to catch a glimpse of him; short brown hair trimmed neatly, stubble on his
chin and cheeks, dark shadows under his blue eyes.
'I'm sorry to disturb you so late, sir. I have a letter for Mrs Ryder,' Vlad pulls a white envelope from his inside pocket. 'She signed up to our online newsletter and we're running a campaign for – '
'Mrs Ryder isn't here,' My dad's voice sounds strangely clipped. Vlad stares at him for a moment, slowly reaching to tuck the envelope back into his pocket. My dad eyes it with a strange look on his face. 'She – ' He sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair, which has thin streaks of grey where there were none before. 'Mrs Ryder passed away last month.'
My knees buckle under my weight and I lean against the brick wall, feeling it roughly scrape my arms as I slip to the floor. A noise in my head, like the sound of a moving train, blocks out the rest of Vlad and my father's conversation. I barely register the fact that he asks to keep the letter, I don't acknowledge Vlad's offer of sympathy. The world turns black as I crouch there in the silence after the front door has banged shut. Vlad's feet move into my line of vision but I don't see them, I don't feel it as he lifts me up, slides a hand around my waist and forces me to move. I can hear his voice talking at me, but it sounds distant and incoherent.
The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell Page 22
