The day felt as long as the night had. Carrington continually tried to deduce where Larkin might be. She checked the library but didn’t find her there. She wasn’t in her room, either. There had to be a way to get to her.
As the workday drew to a close, Carrington decided reaching Larkin was not only crucial; it was something she couldn’t do on her own. There was only one solution that seemed to make any sense as she played through possibilities in her mind.
She showered and ate dinner. The sun was falling from the sky, and with it, darkness was starting to overpower the daylight. She’d kept her eyes peeled for him over the last few hours and had started to fear that she wouldn’t find him, but finally she caught a glimpse of him standing post near the far east side of Building One.
His hair hung loose around his shoulders, his silhouette strong against the twilight. Her heart raced at the sight of him and she nearly abandoned her quest. She couldn’t, though; she knew facing another sleepless night without speaking with her tormented friend would be unbearable.
Carrington tried to stay in the shadows as she moved from Building Two toward the identical structure that stood to its right. Remko’s gaze was trained forward, his eyes focused, but he turned his head as a loose pebble rolled under Carrington’s step.
His face faded from surprise to curiosity, then went cold. He nodded to a neighboring guard, who headed to take Remko’s position as he walked to Carrington’s side.
“Hey,” Carrington said.
“You shouldn’t be—” he started.
“I know. I just need to know if Larkin is okay.”
Remko glanced over his shoulder at the guard who had replaced him and grabbed Carrington’s upper arm. He guided her in between the two towering buildings, where their conversation could be more private.
“I guess maybe you don’t even know, but I didn’t know what else to do,” Carrington said.
Remko’s expression didn’t change. The sweet guard who’d showed her such gentleness in the past seemed to be transformed into the kind who would keep her locked in a room while her best friend was being dragged away kicking and screaming. Maybe approaching him had been a mistake.
“So you don’t know where she is?” Carrington pressed. Her brain began to scream that her efforts were a waste and that it was foolish to think this man would help her just because his soft eyes made her stomach tingle. Her only friend was probably trapped in a dark black pit, withering away.
Remko said nothing but dropped his eyes, which could mean she was right and this was a waste or else he knew but wouldn’t help her. Either way, the tightness in her chest that she’d kept at bay for the last twenty-four hours was constricting again under the tidal wave of emotion crashing over her.
She took a deep breath and drilled her eyes into the ground. Focus, concentrate, and keep steady. “I just need to know if she’s okay. You should have seen her—she was terrified.”
She brought her eyes back up and saw that Remko’s face had softened.
Then a thought struck her. “Helms,” she said. “Is he okay?”
Remko exhaled and pulled his fingers through his hair. “He’s being he . . . he . . . held in the city pri . . . prison.”
“But he’s alive?”
Remko’s eyes slanted in question as if to say, Of course he’s alive.
Carrington released a breath she felt she had been holding since last night. “Larkin was so sure . . . Wait, does she know he’s okay?”
Again Remko’s face changed. He looked like he was struggling with something heavy, wrestling with whether or not to tell her. Carrington stepped forward and placed her hand on his forearm. The warmth from his skin reached her palm through his uniform sleeve and set her pulse racing.
“Please, Remko, what do you know?”
He glanced at her hand resting on his arm. He seemed for a moment to be fascinated with the idea of its placement and stared at it, making Carrington nervous. He looked back at her and their eyes connected like puzzle pieces. She could see that he wanted to divulge his secrets, but doing so would put him at risk since he was bound by duty to keep them private. She could see that he wanted to protect her from the truth, afraid it might ultimately hurt her. She could see in those deep eyes a longing to hold her, to return her touch.
Maybe it was because he had learned to communicate so well without using words, but Carrington felt as if she could almost hear his voice even though his lips didn’t move. She wondered what he was reading in her eyes and, afraid of what he would see, pulled her hand away. She swallowed and forced her heart into submission.
“She’s okay,” Remko said.
His words brought her back to the reason she had sought him out and she pushed the other nonsense from her mind. “Where is she?”
The bottom level of the third Stacks building was shrouded in shadows. Carrington had followed Remko through the lobby above, its appearance identical to the lobby of Building Two. The guards stationed inside gave Remko curious looks as he led Carrington through, but he ignored them.
Once down the hall to the left of the main entrance, Remko had used his CityWatch clearance to open a small side door and led her through it. A long set of winding stairs took them down to a lower level. The walls were dark stone, the floor similar. The air smelled of wet earth and dust and felt heavy. Large round bulbs dotted the tops of the walls every few feet and gave off a dim yellow light, which was quite a contrast to the stark white light throughout the rest of the building.
Remko abruptly pulled to a stop and turned. He grabbed both of Carrington’s wrists and shackled them together with a plastic zip tie. She had seen prisoners with similar restraints and her initial reaction was to yank her arms away.
“I can’t just wa . . . walk you in,” Remko said, his voice low and calm. Carrington understood even though her mind was racing with fear, and she nodded.
“Just fo . . . fo . . . follow my lead.”
He escorted Carrington forward as the path in front of them widened and they came to another door, this one guarded by a single CityWatch member. The guard held his hand up as the two approached. He glanced down at the screen in the sleeve of his right arm for a moment and then shook his head.
“I don’t have a new Lint listed for solitary,” he said.
“This one happened qu . . . quick,” Remko said.
“Remko, I hardly recognized you in this crap lighting. After spending a couple hours down here the stars could blind a man.” The guard chuckled and Remko followed suit, playing the part well.
The guard stepped forward and grabbed Carrington’s chin with his forefinger and thumb, lifting it toward the light. A creepy smile spread across his mouth and it made her stomach turn.
“She’s prettier than most,” he said. “The pretty ones are always trouble. What’d she do? Musta been bad.”
“Not sure; just fol . . . fol . . . ,” Remko tried.
“Following orders. Don’t hurt yourself.” With a final glance at Carrington, he turned his full attention to Remko. “How do they expect me to keep things in order without the proper paperwork?”
“I’ll ta . . . take care of th . . . this one.”
The guard nodded his thanks and turned to open the heavy door. Remko walked Carrington through and she felt her entire body release when the door clanged shut.
Remko eased his grip but kept her close as they continued into the dark dungeon. The walls and floor were the same stone on this side of the door, but the space was much wider, and Carrington saw that doors lined the walls on both sides. The doors were dark and solid. Each had a small rectangle cut from the top half about two or three inches high and six inches wide.
Carrington knew immediately that these were the solitary-confinement rooms and that Larkin was behind one of these doors. The cells were just as the rumors described: small spaces swallowed in darkness, void of fresh air and sanity. The thought that Larkin had been trapped in one of these places since last night was enough to make Carrington sick.
Remko came to a stop before one of the doors and she heard the metal twist as he addressed the mechanical lock. The door popped open. He glanced down the hallway in both directions and then turned to Carrington.
“I need to ke . . . keep these on,” he said, pointing to her restraints. She nodded. “Be quick,” he said and stepped aside to man the door and keep watch. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck to thank him for risking so much for her, but all she could consider was Larkin—shriveled, dying in a corner.
Carrington stepped into the room and Remko closed the door almost completely, letting in only a small sliver of light. The room was no bigger than a closet and her eyes found a small figure crumpled against the side wall—not even a full step and Carrington was kneeling beside her.
“Larkin,” Carrington said.
Her voice roused the being, and Larkin turned her face, blinking at the tiny stream of light. “Carrington?”
Carrington saw the girl’s filthy face, muddied clothes, matted hair. She looked as though she had been rolled down a hill, dragged through muck, and then thrown away. Through the dirt she could see cuts and bruises; the flesh was swollen under the darkening color. Carrington reached out, both of her hands moving together, and brushed Larkin’s cheek. Larkin saw the restraints and her eyes filled with panic.
She moved her hand to Carrington’s wrist and opened her mouth to say something, but only a tight wheeze came out.
“No, don’t worry; this is just for show. I’m fine,” Carrington assured her. “Are you hurt?”
The panic lessened and Larkin managed to push herself up into a seated position. Her face crumpled in pain and Carrington felt tears on her cheeks. “Oh, Larkin.”
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was weaker than seemed possible.
“I wanted to . . . needed to see you. What happened?”
Larkin turned her face away from Carrington. “You shouldn’t be here. . . . If they catch you . . .”
“I had to come. How did this happen?”
“I broke the law. I fell in love.”
Carrington understood. She had feared as much. “How long are they going to keep you here?”
“Forever, probably.” Larkin chuckled softly at first, and then it grew into an outright laugh. Carrington reached out and touched Larkin’s shoulder, and the girl’s laugh tumbled into soft tears. Her shoulders started to shake and Carrington softly pulled Larkin to her chest. She could feel her friend’s tears saturating her shirt and her own tears fell on Larkin’s head. Rage and desperation mixed with sorrow; the combination heated her face and chilled her body like ice.
“Carrington . . . Helms. Did you see Helms?”
“Remko said he’s okay. He’s fine.”
“He won’t be. You should have seen his face. His hatred . . .”
“Helms is fine, Larkin.”
“No, Authority Knight. He wanted to make an example of us.”
“I don’t understand.”
“If it had been up to him alone . . .” She pulled away from Carrington, her eyes wild with worry. “Carrington, you can’t marry him. He’s a monster.”
“What—?”
“You can’t; you can’t!” Her voice cracked with emotion and tears flooded her face.
The door creaked behind them and Carrington turned to see Remko motioning that it was time to leave. The thought of leaving Larkin in this pit clawed at her insides, ripping her bloody. She wasn’t sure she had enough strength to get off her knees and walk out.
“Larkin, I have to go.” The words were painful coming out of her mouth.
“Don’t leave,” Larkin begged.
“I have to.” Salty tears slid past her lips. “I’m so sorry. It’ll be okay.” It felt like a lie because it was.
A near-silent cry escaped Larkin’s throat.
“Carrington,” Remko said behind her, and she knew she had to leave.
She leaned forward and placed a kiss on top of Larkin’s head. She hovered close, trying to think of anything to say that would bring her friend comfort, but found nothing. “I love you, Larkin.”
Carrington stood, nearly falling back to the ground, and stepped out of the room. Remko shut the door and the thud shook Carrington like a violent storm. “I can’t leave her here.”
Remko’s eyes held genuine remorse, but there was nothing he could do. She knew that.
“How am I supposed to leave her?” Carrington feared she would explode right there. Remko must have sensed her desperation because he began to pull her away. Her legs moved—she knew this because the walls on either side of her were passing by—but she didn’t feel it. All she felt was pain.
21
The cool night air touched Carrington’s face and chilled the tears on her cheeks. Remko had shown her a way out of the dungeon that was typically left unguarded and asked her to meet him at the back of the building. He had to leave the way they’d come—and alone—in order not to raise suspicion. Some part of her had comprehended his words and done as he’d asked, but she moved in a haze.
If someone asked her to retrace her steps, she wasn’t sure that would be possible. Her feet had moved, her brain had led, but her heart and soul had been caught up in the sickness developing in her chest.
By the time Remko reached her, she was already slumped against the wall, struggling to breathe. Her mind was running a race it couldn’t win, hurdling questions that kept sending her crashing facedown. How could Larkin survive that place? How long would she be forced to whittle away? How could Carrington save her? How could the Authority be so cruel? How could she marry a man Larkin feared so much?
Remko laid his hand on Carrington’s shoulder and without a single thought she collapsed into his arms. She could feel his momentary resistance, but it evaporated quickly and he closed his arms around her. He held her close, trying to give her comfort as her tears leaked into his shirt. Carrington’s knees felt weak, but he held her tight.
She wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, but when she pulled away her face ached from weeping and her body felt limp and drained. Her mind hurt—the memory of Larkin’s face burned at the edges. Remko touched her cheek and brushed away the hair that was plastered to her skin. His eyes found hers and she nearly fell back into his arms. She found it odd that his look could make her feel weak and strong all at once.
Again he said more with a look than most people could with a dictionary full of words—as though he were actually whispering words of comfort, words that could protect her, calm her, make her feel for a moment that maybe things would actually be okay.
They were close, their bodies only inches apart, and when he lowered his face, her womanly instincts took over.
She had never been kissed before, but that didn’t stop her lips from reacting in kind when his landed on hers. Fire spread into her cheeks and down the back of her neck. She burned, but in a way that made her long for it to continue. Her mind stilled for a moment as her body relished the way his fingertips lingered on her lower back, the way his cheek touched hers, the way his hair fell across her face, blocking out the moon.
When he pulled away, her body resisted. It called for him to return, but the cool night air blew over her lips and she opened her eyes to see that he had moved several steps back. The realization of what had happened settled over her like a blanket, heavy and daunting. She was engaged to another man, to an Authority member, no less.
The same thought must have circled through Remko’s mind as well because his cheeks flushed and he wouldn’t meet her eyes. Neither of them said anything. What could they say? After a long second Remko turned and left Carrington shivering against the stone wall.
Remko couldn’t find sleep. The sound of the other soldiers’ breathing was usually a soothing melody, but tonight it was a noisy racket. He stared up at the springs lining the underside of the bunk above him. Without Helms’s body to strain them, they lay undisturbed.
It was impossible to keep his mind from
spinning. Every thought that entered his mind twisted down a road that led him back to the burning in his lips. The empty mattress took him to Helms, which led him to Larkin, which reminded him of Carrington. The closed window that Helms would have insisted stay open brought him to fresh air, which made him recall the lingering night breeze, which again ended with Carrington. The moon shining through the skylight brought to mind the tears on her cheeks, the color of her eyes, the glistening of her hair.
He tried to clear his mind of all thoughts, but his flesh took over and his fingers ached from where he had touched her, and his body tingled from the heat coming from hers, and his lips . . .
He wrenched his legs free of the comforter and sat up. He wasn’t going to sleep, and without a distraction for his restless mind, he would run after her all night. Remko quietly dressed and left the bunker filled with sleeping guards. He had seen Helms that morning, but if anyone else was struggling with rest it would be him, so he decided to try for another visit.
Helms was being held in the city prison, and the ride to the structure was a peaceful one. At this time of night there was little activity on the streets. The city was held to a nightly curfew that very few broke; only a couple of stragglers ever wandered the dark streets and usually these individuals were highly intoxicated. A run-in with a CityWatch guard scared most enough to send them straight home. For the others, a night in a cell usually did the trick.
Remko reached the prison without seeing another soul and parked his car in the assigned lot. He nodded to the few guards on duty and walked through the main door and around to the side entrance. He knew Stark would be standing watch and would let him in even at this hour.
Stark was an older man who had been serving in the CityWatch for as long as Remko had been alive. Back in the early days of development, Stark had been an eager star rising through the ranks. He was clearly headed for promotion until a street robbery claimed the bottom half of his right leg. His bitterness had nearly taken his life, but as the years passed, he had found his place among the guards as the most highly acclaimed trainer. Every new CityWatch member prayed to be in his division class, and Remko had been one of the lucky ones.
The Choosing Page 16
