'Not particularly.' Malachy gives a half-shrug.
'I thought as much,' Sirus nods, rubbing his chin. 'So if you weren't doing it for Lorna Gray, you must have been doing it for Eve Ryder. But what I couldn't figure out was why. You'd only known this girl a matter of months, and even then, she was no friend of yours. You certainly had far more important things to be getting on with. So why on Earth were you prancing around with this nobody, trying to help her achieve something you didn't give two hoots about?
Then I remembered something,' Sirus' eyes flash. 'The red-haired girl who accused you of being romantically involved with Ryder, the one you claimed had a terrible crush on you, the one you sent to the Confine,' Sirus smirks. 'She said something in her statement that at the time didn't strike me as odd. Perhaps it should have done, perhaps I overlooked it. But, sitting there in front of a stunned Sir Alec, her words came back to me.
She was prattling on about how she'd seen you with Ryder in the corridor, that the two of you looked intimate, and I asked her if she was suggesting my son had feelings for this escapee. She looked terrified for a moment, and she started backtracking. Her exact words were these: 'Oh, no, Sir. I don't think Malachy's affection for her is genuine. I rather think he's unwittingly been cast under her spell because she looks so much like...'
She quickly covered her tracks, started rattling off other incidents where the two of you had been seen together, and I forgot all about her little slip up. Because at the time, of course, I didn't realise it was a slip up. Now, however, I think I know what the end of her sentence was going to be.'
'Father, I don't know what you think you know – '
'Oh, yes, you do!' Father's voice is the loudest I've ever heard it. Mother jumps in her seat, barely resisting the urge to rush to Malachy's side.
How could I have been so stupid? I thought I had it all figured out when it came to Malachy and Ryder. How had I not realised that Sir Alec never asked Malachy to keep an eye on her? That it was yet another lie to cover his tracks? An excuse to be seen with her. An excuse invented solely for me.
'I tolerated this once before, Malachy,' Father makes no effort to hide his rage now. He stands and his presence fills the room, plugging everything, making him impossible to escape. 'I sat by and gritted my teeth whilst you frolicked with that Russian girl. You knew I disapproved but you did it anyway. I reasoned with myself. I told myself that it was just a little rebellion, I did the same to my father. Soon enough you would tire of her and focus on your duties. You cast off your family for her, your sister, your training and your responsibilities! And I let you do it! I gave you your playtime, even when my father was chewing my ear off about it, I defended you!
Then, when that moron broke the law, I let you take it out on me! I let you mope and sulk about, I went easy on you, I patiently waited for you to realise that she was nothing!'
I drop my gaze to the floor. Father never believed that Anzhela had broken a law; he's obviously been lying to himself for so long he's started to actually believe it.
'Don't you remember, Malachy, not long after that girl was Confined, our little heart to heart in the Genus Room? I told you that girls like that would be a permanent fixture in your life? That they would flock to you like birds, desperate to latch onto you for their own gain? That you must never again let your guard down with one of them? Never again get so involved?
You may take as many moronic, fawning girls to bed with you as you like, Malachy. We've all done it. But in the end, your mate must be someone who is as much an asset to you as you are to her. The match must make sense in terms of status and power. I told you this!' He slams his palm against the back of his chair. 'And yet you've done it again. You haven't just taken a moronic, fawning girl to bed with you. You've fallen in love with a convict!' Sirus' voice is a low, venomous growl. 'Do you dare to deny it?'
The whole room collectively holds its breath, all eyes on Malachy. Father is breathing hard, his eyes dark slits in his head. Mother is slumped in her chair, one hand over her mouth, her eyes creased in despair. I'm struggling to remain standing, feeling as though my knees are about to give way beneath me. I warned Malachy. I warned him. If father ever found out about his relationship with Ryder, he was done for. I didn't say it outright, of course, but I warned him in so many words.
'No.' For the fourth time, Malachy repeats this word. I realise in that moment, that father had been half-hoping Malachy would deny it. I see now, in his eyes, he was praying that Mal would spin some ridiculous, full-of-holes story that might be half believable. To be honest, so was I.
'Do you still expect me to believe you knew nothing about her escape plot?' Father actually looks faint, though he's trying hard to keep his composure.
'I told you, I – '
'Do you still expect me to believe that you didn't take it seriously?!' I fight the urge to cower as father yells.
'No.'
'Did you know about the plan to take Lorna Gray, too?'
A moment's silence.
'Yes.'
Mother gasps, the sound filling my ears and plugging my throat. My legs wobble beneath me and I fight with all my might to keep standing. Father looks just as shocked as we do. For the first time in his life, he doesn't know what to say. 'There's really no point in hearing your reasons, Malachy,' His voice is shaky. 'If I hadn't heard it from your own lips, I would never have believed it. I thought I brought you up to know better. I thought you were smart. I thought – ' He shakes his head, lost for words. 'I don't know what possessed you to allow this to happen. You have put our entire world in danger. I forgave you for the Russian girl, I could have forgiven you for the Ryder girl. I could even have found a way to forgive you for allowing her to escape. But to allow a dangerous human with knowledge of our existence out into the world? This is the last mistake you'll ever make, Malachy.'
'Sirus – ' Mother's voice is pleading, and though her eyes don't weep, her voice does.
'No, Maya,' Father shakes his head, and I witness genuine sadness on his part. 'I've been far too lenient with him already.'
'But the Gray girl is back now!' Mother protests anyway. It's unlike her to challenge her husband's word. 'There's no harm done. Can't we just – '
'It's irrelevant, Maya!' He snaps. 'I can't allow this to ever happen again. It's my sworn duty to protect Our Kind, to uphold our laws. If I allow my son, our future leader, to break them, what does that say about me? About my legacy?'
'But he didn't break – '
'He neglected his duty in favour of a piece of trash woman! For the second time! This conversation is over,' He strides towards Malachy, down the three steps, stopping directly in front of him. Malachy remains statue still, composed, neutral. He isn't even tapping his foot.
'You are not fit to rule, Malachy,' Father's voice is now level. Calm. Scary. 'You've always allowed your heart to rule your head. It's a trait I've never encouraged but, out of love for you, I've tolerated it. To make an unfit woman your mate would be despicable, shameful, disgusting. But it would be nothing compared to putting your people at risk. It's for this reason alone that I'm – ' Father stops, and I could swear he almost chokes on his words. He glances at my mother in a rare act of compassion. I watch her plead with her eyes. I watch my father consider it. Then, I watch his jaw harden and his expression close off. He turns back to Malachy, his dark eyes cold.
'You will not rule, Malachy. Your sister will.'
Without another word, he slips past Malachy, striding purposefully towards the Throne Room door. I stare at Malachy, and for a moment he stares back at me. Being twins, we've always had a strange but special connection. Even during the years when we haven't been as close, we've been able to have a conversation without ever uttering a word. When we were children, Malachy couldn't hide anything from me. I knew immediately when he was lying, I knew when he was hiding something, and, nine times out of ten, I knew what it was. He could sometimes do the same with me, but I was better than him at deceiving. As the
years went on, and the things that happened happened, I could no longer tell when Malachy was lying, or when he was hiding something. But if he wanted to, if he really wanted to, he could still tell me something without ever parting his lips.
During that moment, though, as our father's footsteps rebound around the Throne Room, his eyes tell me nothing. He doesn't speak to me, he simply stares emptily, with nothing at all to say.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Eve.
The morning of April 3rd, the dungeons are buzzing with activity and frantic last minute preparations. Sir Alec is called down to confirm that the Auctoritas haven't made any sudden movements before he jets off to Argentina for his jame. He assures Vlad that the Auctoritas are still attending the gathering, and that their flights are booked and confirmed.
Silver cases, wrapped in waterproof sheets and filled with plastic pouches are transported into the corridor, ready for us to depart. They're designed to look like suitcases, complete with pull handles and wheels to lend us the illusion of tourists. Clothes and shoes suited to the long and arduous journey are passed out, and, at 11:40, we're given our last plastic pouch under the cover of the Institute.
So far, the atmosphere in the dungeons has been charged with electricity, and the air filled with noise. Now, as we gather in the largest living area, there is absolute silence. A cloud of anticipation mingles with anxiety, and I notice – with unease – that Patrick has more Rebels than usual clustered around him.
At midnight exactly, Vlad gets to his feet and eyes his fellow comrades with a soft expression, one I’ve never seen him display. 'It's time to leave,' He says, his voice quiet yet commanding. 'Vanessa's group will lead. Before you go – ' He signals the Rebels in Vanessa's group who have risen to their feet. 'I would just like to wish each and every one of you good luck, and to thank you for giving up your existences to fight for this cause. I feel confident that by this time, three days from now, there will be a new government ruling over Our Kind. And, if the worst should happen – ' He lowers his gaze. 'Just know that even though we failed, we are all heroes in our own right.'
There is solemn silence as Vanessa's group traipse into the hall, two of the largest Rebels lifting the silver case and lugging it towards the cave. At the last moment, Vanessa turns back to where Vlad stands and plants a long, meaningful kiss on his lips. His eyes widen in shock but, given the circumstances, he doesn't protest, merely nods and squeezes her shoulder. Then, in the blink of an eye, they're gone.
At fifteen minute intervals, the other groups leave with their silver cases. Most of the Rebels look apprehensive, or downright terrified, but a few, including Katherine, appear completely at ease. Nobody addresses what Vlad said only moments ago; that there's a possibility we might fail. There's forced cheerfulness, partings of 'See you soon!' Though we all know that we may not.
'I guess this is it,' Stacey appears before me as her group, with Jared as its leader, get to their feet. 'See you on the other side?'
'Be careful out there.' I mumble into her soft, blonde hair as she pulls me into a hug.
'Pfft. You haven't seen me in training lately. I'd kick Bruce Lee's arse.' She tries to smile but can’t quite manage it before turning dutifully to Zoe. It's only as her long hair whips around the door frame that I realise Stacey is the closest friend I have now. What with Lorna gone, Diana unreachable, and Tia despising me, I feel a twisting sensation in my abdomen at the thought of losing my newest, yet last friend.
The room feels eerily empty as the last dregs of Rebels depart, and I try to hole myself up in a corner where I won't feel so agoraphobic. As part of Vlad's group, I'll be one of the last to leave, and I'm starting to feel like it's worse to wait than to be thrown out there into the unknown.
Finally, Vlad sees the last of Russell's group off, and we wait our obligatory fifteen minutes in silence. Jasmina latches herself to one side of me, Asil to the other. Instead of feeling irritated by this, as I usually would, I’m comforted to know they're there. I haven't had much time to talk to Asil lately, what with Vlad drilling us so hard, but since his reconciliation with Lorna, his ecstasy has slowly descended into despair. I understand; it must be difficult for him to leave her behind, and, given the fact that Vlad would allow him to leave the Rebellion at any time, I admire the younger Katak brother for staying.
'It's time.' Vlad announces, heading towards the door. Apprehensively, we follow him, emptying out into the corridor. Jack steps to one side of the last silver case, waiting for someone else to grab the other end. After a moment's hesitation, Patrick ambles forward for the job. 'Not you,' Vlad shakes his head, his expression hard. 'Asil, you grab this.' Patrick glares at Vlad, silently deciding whether or not to challenge him as Asil steps forward awkwardly. Eventually, Patrick shakes his head and drops the handle, merging back into the crowd. 'When we get out there, stick close to the group. If we encounter any rough tides or tornadoes, do your best not to lose your bearings. You two,' Vlad nods to Jack and Asil. 'That case is priority. If at any point you feel you may lose it and you have the opportunity to pass it along, do so. When I give the signal, you are to split into groups of ten. Each group must be separated by at least a half mile. If we encounter any Law Officers, swim straight to the bottom immediately and stay there for as long as your instincts tell you to, then a little longer. If anyone is captured,' He lowers his eyes. 'You know the drill. You're not to talk under any circumstances, and you will be left behind.' Without another word, without a glimpse of humanity, Vlad strides to the head of the group and makes his way to the cave. We follow, Jasmina and I stuck tightly together, Asil and Jack behind us with the case. The cave is calm, not crashing and loud as it sometimes is, which is a good sign. The water is still and quiet as we climb down, and, with one last nod at each other, Jasmina, Asil and I sink below the surface.
All I can think as we make our way out of the cave and into the open ocean, is how if I never glimpse the seabed again, it will be too soon. The water is a murky dark blue, lit only by the moonlight hundreds of thousands of miles away. We have no choice but to stick relatively close to the surface, or else be lowered into stifling blackness.
A couple of hours pass before a dark shadow emerging from our rear causes the latter half of the group to panic. A few of the Rebels dart for the bottom, but Vlad, far ahead but in plain sight, waves his hands, shaking his head vigorously. A moment later, a ship passes overhead, its huge body blanketing us like night.
Slowly, the ocean sways from deepest blue to pulsing, vibrant orange as the sun begins to rise. Spurred on by the thought that our destination is near, our group picks up speed, gliding behind Vlad into a circular bay the colour of Malachy's eyes.
Up ahead, at the very centre, is a wide, cavernous mouth leading into a gently flowing river. Vlad turns back to give the signal, and those of us behind wait for the groups in front to separate into tens, giving each of them a head start half a mile long.
The river is winding and wide, like a serpents body, and we often lose sight of the groups ahead. Fortunately, the water is deep and we stick close to the bottom, grazing our stomachs along the sharp rocks below.
On and on we follow the river, below open air and grassy banks. We must be passing through the farmlands Stacey mentioned, where the population is low and our chances of being spotted are minimal. But as the river grows narrower, so it grows shallower and we're forced closer and closer to the sun-dappled surface. Instead of pretty, water eroded rocks, the base of the river becomes a mass of cloudy brown earth, billowing around us, leaving a trail in our wake. In my effort to remain as low as possible, three times I accidentally kick the invisible boulders beneath, stubbing my toes painfully.
To our horror, we spot a narrow boat ahead, only a few feet above us. Asil, who is leading our group, makes a split-second decision, darting under the boat and beckoning us to follow. We cram underneath the shadow of the boat, keeping below as it cuts a smooth journey through the greying water. It's painfully slow, chugging a
long in the safety of darkness, but it keeps us from being seen and as the river once again widens, it deepens and we're finally able to leave the safety of the boat.
By a fork in the river, we catch up to the group in front, and after a few minutes more, they join the group before them, and so on until suddenly we come to a stop. We wait below the surface for the last group, then, following Vlad, we kick to the surface.
The air above the water is warm and inviting and I suck in a deep breath, feeling my lungs expand. The early morning sun shines down on rolling fields surrounding us, just beyond the steep, grassy bank. Vlad scrambles up onto dry land, waiting for us in the yellowing grass.
As far as the eye can see is uninhabited farmland, a mass of empty fields and hills. Without a word, Vlad presses on, setting the pace at a slow jog. As the sun burns brighter, our hair and skin dries and the colours of the fields around us intensify.
As we near the sprawling hills, Vlad slows his pace and turns to address us. 'Over the hill is a freeway,' He nods. 'It's unlikely to be busy at this time of day, but just in case, we need to separate. Split into your groups of ten,' He commands. 'This half head up that way, this half that way,' He gestures left and right. 'There are bridges to cross over. Jack, leave the case to Asil now.’ Jack does as he’s told, allowing Asil to wheel the box like a normal suitcase. With my group, I trek alongside the hills, heading far away from the other travelling parties until they fade from view.
The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell Page 33
