'Where's your brother?' The purple man asks.
'He's not – '
'Here.' Asil's voice rings out, cutting off Vlad's. He strolls to the front, more relaxed than Vlad and Vanessa put together. 'Nice to see you again, Anthony.' He sounds almost cheerful, as though this is a meeting over coffee and not a stand off between two armies.
'So you're the ringleaders, eh?' The man surveys the three figures before him. His eyes are cold and unfeeling as he takes in the scene as a whole. I glance at the Confine guards again, all of whom are still watching with apparent glee. Who are these purple people? Why were they not guarding the Confine with the others? Perhaps this is part of their strategy; make us think they have less numbers than they do. 'Where's Hubec?' The purple man – Anthony – asks suddenly. From a few hundred feet away, a large figure cuts through the sea of Rebels, his blonde hair glinting in the bright sun. Kristoph touches the arms of the old Rebels he passes, and the gesture makes me uncomfortable. I've seen it before many times. It's a gesture that means goodbye.
'Kristoph, my old friend,' Anthony grins as the broad, German man stops a foot short of him. 'So good to see you again.'
'Anthony.' Kristoph nods curtly.
'It appears we're facing one another across a battlefield once more.' Anthony smiles.
'Yes,' Kristoph nods. 'Though apparently this time you didn't need your government to step in and save you.'
Anthony's jaw hardens, and any false politeness he's offered to Kristoph is quickly withdrawn. 'I need one more,' He growls, glancing back at Vlad. 'Eve Ryder.' My stomach tightens with such a ferocity I wonder if I might actually throw up. The sound of my name on this stranger's lips sounds terrifying, and I feel a giant surge of gratitude to Vlad, Asil, Kristoph, even Vanessa, when not one of them turns to face me. 'The game's over, Katak,' Anthony snarls. 'You lost. Now where is she? I have orders to bring her in.'
Bring me in? The game's over? Why aren't we fighting? Why aren't we still trying to reach the Confine? Why have we let all the guards go? Who are these people?
My mind screams a thousand questions, none of which I have the answers to. After a moment's silence, Anthony steps forward, lunging for Vlad. He wraps one giant hand around his throat and lifts our leader off his feet. 'I won't ask a third time,' He spits, his nostrils flaring in anger. 'Tell me where she is before I make you tell me.'
Oh, God how I wish I was a weaker person. How I wish those protective instincts Clayton Nickson enlightened me of didn't exist. How I wish my morals would allow me to simply keep quiet. But I watched Asil getting his face smashed in, and something tells me Anthony has even more in store for Vlad if I don't come forward. 'I'm here.' My voice sounds pathetic even to my ears, a timid mouse squeak made even weaker by the silence of the mountains. Anthony's eyes flicker to mine and register mild surprise as he takes me in.
'Good,' He says finally. 'They already got you. You four,' He jerks his head to someone behind me. 'Let go of those nobodies and grab these.' He gestures to Vlad, Vanessa, Asil and Kristoph. I hear thumps and a lot of crunching before four yellow zombies step forward to claim our leaders, snatching them into their freakishly strong arms. My zombie drags me forward until I stand beside the others, close enough to see the small scars that cover Anthony's face.
'The five of you will be taken to Mount Kamen,' He states without emotion. 'The rest of you will be taken in by my forces,' He projects his voice to the rest of the Rebels. 'You can try to fight, if you want. But if I were you, I'd save your energy. You're going to need it.' He smiles, a sickening, gloating smirk.
Suddenly, two sets of pounding footsteps echo behind me as two Rebels streak past, headed straight for the purple army. Anthony could easily stop them, just one kick of his leg could send them both flying, but he doesn't bother, simply watches with amusement as though it's his favourite TV programme. The two Rebels hurl themselves at the closest purple soldiers, and without breaking formation, without any effort at all, the soldiers clamp their arms around the Rebels' necks and kick the backs of their knees, dropping them to the floor. They writhe and try to break free, but it's useless, and I can see in their eyes that they know it.
During the commotion, several sets of footsteps signal more movement behind, but this time the sound is growing fainter. Some of the Rebels are trying to run.
'Grab them.' Anthony drawls lazily, and three purple soldiers step forward, breaking into a sprint. I've never seen Immortals move so fast; one minute they're there, the next they're gone, and within seconds they return, dragging seven old Rebels with them. One of the soldiers holds three Rebels at once, all trying desperately to break free, all failing miserably. For the first time, I take in the hundreds of purple soldiers, seeing them clearly, assessing them. It doesn't take long for me to figure out that these soldiers are elite. Even Vanessa couldn't hold three Immortals at once. Even Kristoph couldn't.
I realise, with a sinking heart, that the fight is indeed over. Whoever these people are, there's no way we can defeat them. Not if they all have the strength and speed those three just demonstrated.
I glance back at the entrance to the Confine, where most of the guards are still gathered. Just beyond those boulders lies Marcheline Beaudreux, Meredith Draper, Kristoph's friend, Laura, Aleks Anzhela, and countless other innocent Immortals. I have broken my promise to Angelo, without whom we would never have made it this far, to liberate his sister. The freedom I felt so certain would be granted to all of them today is slowly slipping away, and they have no idea. Perhaps it's better that way, perhaps not, but it's not only the Confined who have lost. The Rebellion has failed. We have failed. There will be no new Immortal world, there will be no hard-won justice, there will be no change at all. And we are finished.
It's such an anti-climax, such a swift and sudden ending, it almost doesn't seem real. Just moments ago we were winning, the new world was on the horizon, so close I could almost touch it, and with one blur of purple and yellow, it's all over.
The purple army step forward, and this time, no one tries to run, no one tries to attack. I don't have time to see what really happens, as the zombie holding me suddenly wrenches forward, dragging me with him. Anthony turns on his heel and begins a brisk walk back in Mount Kamen's direction, and the five of us are marched side by side behind him.
The mountain is further than it appears, and it gives me plenty of time to think up ridiculous and, frankly, delusional plans of escape. I picture myself surprising the zombie with a sudden kick backwards, running in the direction of the wilderness. I even try it once, but the zombie barely flinches. As we near the mountain, a narrow path cuts in front of us and Vlad and I are squashed together along it, our sides scraping against jagged boulders. 'What's going on?' I hiss in his ear, trying not to let his slumped, defeated posture scare me. He looks up as though he's forgotten I exist.
'It's over.' He turns away. I stare at him, scraping the sole of my shoe against a rock. Anthony is only a few feet ahead, but the continuous snarling sound the zombie makes covers my voice.
'What d'you mean it's over?' I snap. 'Who are these people? What are we going to do? What about the others?'
'It's over, Eve,' Vlad stares at me pitifully, though I don't know why. It's not me who needs pity. 'The ones in purple,' He jerks his head towards Anthony. 'They're the Auctorita Guard.'
'The Auctorita Guard?' I frown, taking a few seconds to process his words. 'But I thought you said... ' I trail off as something slowly dawns on me. I'm not quite sure what it is yet, the thought hasn't fully formed in my mind before Vlad speaks.
'I did,' He nods. 'The Auctorita Guard stay with the Auctoritas.'
'But that means... ' I frown, hardly daring to breathe.
'Yeah,' Vlad nods and shakes his head at the same time. 'They're still here.'
Before I can ask anything else, the path widens and I'm dragged away from Vlad, closer to Asil, who walks upright and willingly with his zombie. I don't know how he can keep so calm at a time like this,
and I can't decide if I love or hate him for it. I try to walk closer to him, but don't get more than two steps before my zombie yanks me back with such force I think my arms might break. 'Who are you people?' I growl, more to myself than them but it's Asil who answers me,
'Sensory Division,' He says cheerfully. 'The Auctoritas' secret weapon.'
'The what Division?'
'Sensory,' Asil smiles. 'Up until now they were believed to be a myth. Even Vanessa swore blind they didn't exist, which goes to show how closely Sirus guarded his secret. These charming fellows are kept starved by the Auctoritas. Not starved as in Confine starved, but just enough. When we're hungry,' He explains patiently. 'We're at our strongest. Our bodies almost act of their own accord, such is our desperation. When starved just the right amount, that power can be harnessed and used as a weapon.'
I nod slowly, remembering the only time I've ever felt truly hungry, back in New Zealand on that Godforsaken pier. I remember the way I lashed out at that human woman against my own accord, the desperation I felt take over my whole body, the unusual strength I displayed. I glance back at my zombie, staring glassy eyed over my head, and feel a wave of sympathy wash over me. I stop dragging my feet and walk properly.
We begin to climb the steep mountain, using narrow, dangerous paths, dangling over the drop below. It's colder up here, and the air is thinner, small rocks block the paths occasionally, threatening to trip us. It might be a good thing if I did fall, I could possibly escape, but my natural survival instinct and human fear keeps me from trying it. Finally, after what feels like decades, we scale around the mountain to a slightly wider path, and spot two black figures up ahead. They stand upright and wary a few feet apart, and between them is an opening leading into the darkness.
'Well,' Anthony smiles, stopping a few feet short of the door. He turns to Vlad, a sick grin on his face. 'Welcome back.'
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Eve.
If I had a working heart, it would be pounding fit to burst as Anthony and our designated zombies – Sensory Division – lead us through the wide opening into a dark cave. Peering through the blackness, I spot another opening at the far end of the hollow and Anthony moves towards it as if he's made this journey a thousand times. In a narrow tunnel, there is no light and I can't even see the thin but strong arms wrapped around my neck as my zombie hustles me along. Light slowly begins to filter in as we pass torches bracketed to the walls beneath a narrow staircase. As we climb, the higher we rise, the hotter the air surrounding us becomes.
If Vlad is right, and the Auctoritas are still here, that can only mean one thing; Sir Alec betrayed us. How long had Sirus and the others known about our plan? Was everything else – the capture of Slav and the other unfortunate Rebels, the interrogations and torture of the Institute students – just a clever ruse to keep us from guessing that they already knew? And what about Malachy? He would have told us if he'd sensed that something was amiss, if he had any indication that his father knew of our whereabouts or what we planned to do. Did Sirus deliberately hide his knowledge from his son? Did he somehow sense that Malachy was connected to us? To me?
How Sirus and Sir Alec must have laughed when they came up with the idea of the jame. When Sir Alec decided to purchase the jets for our use. But this poses yet another question: why did Sirus let it get this far? Why did he allow us anywhere near the Confine if he already knew where we were hiding? Was it to make an example of us like he did with the old Rebels and the Thailand confine? For the notoriety?
As we reach the top of the staircase and file towards a wooden door, I glance sideways at Vlad. He's struggling against his zombie, but more through anger than any true desire to escape. He's not stupid; he knows he wouldn't make it ten feet. Why the hell did he trust Sir Alec?
I knew. The moment I saw that boat approaching Vlad's island and realised who was on board, I knew it was a bad idea. Of course Sir Alec would say anything to get Lorna back, agree to anything, even something as uncharacteristic as defying the government. If Vlad had simply offered Lorna in exchange for Sir Alec's loyalty, I would have told him that was crazy. I would have known that Sir Alec would betray us. But it was the promise of a seat on The Board, thrown in to sweeten the deal, that convinced me. Did it convince Vlad, too?
The two guards manning the door don't speak, but they give Anthony a respectful nod as they allow him through, keeping their eyes fixed straight ahead as we're bundled after him. The door leads to another cave-like room, this one adorned with tapestries for the walls and soft rugs for the floor. Four desks stand in a semi-circle, manned by four almost identical men in uniform. Anthony doesn't acknowledge them as he strides across the room, and the officials clearly aren't supposed to acknowledge us, but they're struggling. They bow their heads, pretending to study paperwork on their desks, but their eyes flicker up every few seconds, trying to get a good look.
After many twists and turns beyond the next door, we halt in a wide passageway, eerie and silent. The double doors before us are made from dark wood and bear intricate carvings. No less than seven guards are stationed outside, all in plain black uniform, like the Confine guards. Five of them step forward as we approach, their movements rigid, expressions desperately pulled into an imitation of apathy. 'We'll take it from here.' The tallest one says, holding his palm flat out in a stop gesture. Anthony stands a foot shy of him, and draws himself up to his fullest height – at least six foot seven, if not more.
'I was told to deliver them directly to Sirus.' He growls, causing the guard to wilt a little.
'He's just through that door. We're to take them in. Alone.' He adds, and the last word sounds like something of an apology. After a few awkward moments, the taller man relents.
'Fine,' Anthony snarls. 'We'll wait over there.' He jerks his head back towards the foyer before rounding on us. He takes his time glaring at each of us in turn, as if warning us not to do anything stupid – as if we would. 'Let them go.' He barks, and immediately, the four zombies release their holds, following Anthony back down the corridor. The five guards in black step forward, manhandling us roughly, as if to prove something.
With a nod from the two remaining guards, they open the doors and usher us into a room which holds an air of unworldliness. It's huge, twice the length of a football pitch and three times the width. There aren't many decorations but the sparseness only adds to the regalia of it. On the mostly bare stone floor lies a deep red plush rug travelling in one narrow strip along the length of the room. It ends at the foot of three wide steps leading up onto a platform where six chairs stand. I say chairs, but the term is loose; they're thrones. The majority are made from some kind of bronze-coloured metal, with high backs and an intricate spike pattern at their head, but the one slightly off centre to the right is silver and softer somehow, with rounded arms and an elegant oval shaped back. The one in the centre, set forward from the others, is shimmering gold with a mural etched into its back depicting several men, some on horseback.
The guards march us in a straight line along the red carpet towards the thrones – and the Immortals who stand beside them. Next to the two left-most chairs stand a man and woman, the man tall and well-built with dark hair and piercing eyes, the woman slight with bronzed skin and artificial-looking blonde hair. On their right, next to the golden throne, stands another man; similar in appearance to the previous except with strange, staring red eyes. The woman next to the silver throne is tall and beautiful with long auburn hair, but the two chairs on her left have no claimants. The two remaining figures stand well off to the right, as though they don't belong. They both have athletic builds and platinum blond hair, icy blue eyes and pale white skin. One of them makes me feel fear and disgust, the other, a misplaced fluttery sensation in the pit of my stomach.
Malachy.
The guards line us up next to one another facing the thrones. The black-clad figures release their holds on us, but step back only a couple of feet, leaving us no room to flee. For a moment, the enorm
ous room fills with silence, the kind of silence that makes you want to make any kind of noise – no matter how ridiculous – just to break it.
All but one of the motionless figures ahead have their eyes trained on us. The dark haired man on our left glares at us with open hostility. The woman next to the silver chair is staring with a blank expression, as though she isn't really here, and the man beside the golden throne is gazing with a mixture of contempt and fascinated interest. Lucrezia has eyes only for me, attempting to ooze her dislike through her green-tinted pupils. But Malachy... Malachy's eyes aren't fixed anywhere near mine. Malachy's gaze is aimed at the floor, and intensely so.
'So,' I feel a wave of relief when the man in the centre breaks the silence, even though I know nothing he has to say will benefit me. 'I finally have the opportunity to meet the Immortals I've heard so much about,' He has a deep voice, authoritative, and despite his conversational tone, clearly threatening. He glances at us each in turn, his face impassive, and even cracks a smile – it makes my skin crawl. 'The Rebels,' He hisses the word, as though it's a revered one, though I know he's being sarcastic. 'Is that what you call yourself? Rebels?' He waits a beat for an answer, but he knows that one won't come. 'I can't say I was surprised to hear that you were part of this little uprising, Kristoff,' He trains his gaze on the tallest of us, the one furthest from me. 'As soon as I heard about the Thailand break out, I knew you'd revert back to your old ways. But you – ' He swivels his gaze to Vlad, whose fingers twitch at the attention. 'You've surprised me. That's not a feeling I'm used to these days.' He steps forward, slowly making his way down the three wide steps towards Vlad, coming to a halt just inches from his nose.
The Gray Institute_Rebels' Hell Page 38
