Noble Lies

by Lyneal Jenkins

  Once finished, I wrapped myself in the thick, white towelling dressing gown that drowned me. Maria wasted no time. She quickly stripped and stepped into the shower. Within seconds, steam billowed out to be whisked away by the ceiling fan. She groaned in pleasure as she hurried to wash.

  A packaged toothbrush lay next to the sink. I dropped my blade next to it and ripped the toothbrush from its wrapper. I covered it with lashings of toothpaste, ignoring my instinct to suck the paste straight from the tube. One scrub wasn’t enough, and I smothered the toothbrush with paste for a second and then third time. Maria joined me at the sink as I finished scrubbing my teeth, removing weeks of scum.

  I grinned at her through thick globules of minty foam streaming from my lips. ‘I feel human.’ Blobs of toothpaste hit the mirror as I spoke. I spat the remaining toothpaste into the sink before wiping the mirror with my sleeve, smearing the paste further.

  Oh well, I tried.

  Maria looked around, her content smile twisting into a scowl. ‘Where are our clothes?’

  I hadn’t even noticed they had been removed from the floor. The empty sheath hit the floor before I thought about baring my dagger. I couldn’t afford to be so unobservant. It could get me killed.

  Maria raised an eyebrow with mirth. ‘I doubt that they took our clothes so they could kill us in our birthday suits.’

  I scowled at her, though slipped the blade back into its sheath. ‘I would like to see you go out their butt naked and fight.’

  She grabbed a smaller towel from the pile and wrapped it around her head. ‘It would just be too easy after they saw me in all my grandeur.’

  A knock on the door caused me to jump. Paula stuck her head in, the door pressed close to her body, hopefully to offer us privacy as the other alternatives weren’t good. ‘Come on, I have clothes for you both.’ She slammed the door closed before we could speak.

  Maria squeezed toothpaste onto the brush I had just used, her eyes wide in question. I shrugged and trudged after Paula, leaving Maria alone.

  As soon as I stepped through the door, a small man accosted me and guided me to a chair in the middle, giving me no time to appreciate the soft, thick carpet underfoot. It had more bounce to it than my old slippers.

  I sank into the chair, and he whipped out a hairbrush and dryer.

  ‘Makeup?’ he asked Paula. He scowled as he trailed his fingers under the injuries marring my face.

  She shook her head. ‘No time. Try to make her presentable.’ She glanced at her delicate gold wristwatch. ‘You have five minutes.’

  The small man grumbled under his breath as he set to work raking the brush through my tangled hair, forcing tears into my eyes. I remained quiet, feeling overwhelmed as heat blasted against my ears and neck. By the time Maria came out of the bathroom, my dry hair clung to my face with static.

  Paula hung a black, plastic suit bag on a hook near the bathroom. ‘This will fit well enough.’

  Maria pulled the zip down and grimaced. ‘Pink? I don’t suppose you have something better for me?’

  Paula looked at the small man who had done my hair in question, baffled rather than annoyed at Maria’s audacity. He shrugged as he slipped the hairdryer into the bag at his feet.

  ‘Your clothes are coming,’ she said to Maria. ‘In the meantime, are you able to help her?’

  Maria tightened her dressing gown cord and nodded. Paula studied Maria for a moment before she marched from the room. The door closed with a whisper of sound, cutting off the hushed voices.

  I slipped from the chair and followed Maria into the bathroom, sure I would wake up at any moment, find that all the luxury had been a dream, that I still lay propped up against a cold, hard tree, snoring in my slumber. Maria ripped the cover off the pastel-pink suit, with an A-line skirt. I looked at it like someone was playing the most heinous of pranks. Did they really expect me to wear that?

  She laughed at my expression. ‘I felt the same when I saw it.’ She looked in the small bag hooked over the coat hanger, pulled out a plain white sports bra, a pair of large, ugly white underwear, what Beth and I would have called granny knickers, and some natural tights. ‘This is worse.’

  I pulled them from her hands with a sigh. ‘At least they’re clean.’

  Paula knocked on the door and, once again, opened it without waiting. She placed a folded pile of clothes on the shelf. ‘Are you not dressed yet?’

  ‘Sorry.’ She had already left and missed my reply.

  Maria helped me dress. It might have gone quicker if she hadn’t. Her hands got in the way while I closed the buttons. Once finished, she took a step back and snorted with laughter.

  I scowled. ‘Wait until you see yours.’ I hadn’t been this dressed up since I’d been to court for Nathan's trial, years before. I looked like a Barbie doll.

  Paula waited for me on the other side with shoes hanging from her fingers.

  I stared at the three-inch stiletto heels. ‘I can't walk in those.’

  She thrust them into my hands. ‘You won’t need to go far.’

  ‘Where are my boots?’ I didn’t miss the slight whine edging my words. I was too far outside my comfort zone and needed something to ground me.

  She pointed to the corner of the room. ‘You cannot wear those poor excuses for footwear.’

  I marched to the boots, ready to tell her to go to hell. When I saw the cracked, tattered leather, the words stuck in my throat. One sole flapped against the boot, the thread snapped, while the other was fast becoming one giant hole.

  Paula’s phone rang. She answered, gave a few clipped words in response to the caller, and hung up. ‘Come on.’

  ‘What about me?’ Maria demanded.

  Paula looked her up and down. ‘You are not needed.’

  She ushered me through the door before either one of us could protest, giving me no time to collect my dagger. I wanted to plant my feet and demand she gave me time to collect the things I needed. I did none of that and followed her with my head down. If the government wanted me dead, they wouldn’t have brought me here and washed me. Still, my fingers itched to reach for the missing weapon; the cool touch of the metal had become a comfort I now ached for.

  I stumbled down the corridor after her, my ankles giving out every few steps. I put my hands on the wall to steady myself, but Paula gave me a sharp look. I let my hand drop and carried on with my awkward gait. I was wrong; they were trying to kill me with the shoes.

  It seemed like the building was never going end when Paula stopped and ushered me through a door.

  Tabert nodded upon seeing me. ‘Miss Gibbins?’ he asked Paula.

  ‘I’ll have her brought here when she is dressed.’

  Tabert nodded and swept his arm out, indicating for me to sit in one of two chairs around a small, square table. Secretaries sat at six single desks. They continued to stare at their laptop screens, but none of them typed. I studied their flat expressions, a shiver running down my spine. They would fit right into every horror movie ever written.

  I sank into the most luxurious chair I'd ever treated my backside to, flexing my feet now that I was off the death-traps they called shoes. Tabert flipped open the file I had skimmed before and went through every detail with me. Once sure I had read it through, he fired questions at me. It felt like an exam and soon left my head reeling.

  ‘So why run?’ he asked. When I didn’t answer immediately, he said, ‘What happened with Dallinger?’

  I stared at him, trying to remember their facts from my reality.

  ‘How did you know about Detective Creed's plans?’

  I opened my mouth to speak, but he talked over me.

  ‘Who else is involved in the plot?’

  I shrank back in my seat, so many questions bouncing around my head, and for once, none of them were from me. It didn’t stop them causing my brain to protest in confusion.

  ‘What was your role in the plot, Ms. Martin?’

  ‘I wasn’t—’

  ‘Did D
allinger enlist your help?’

  ‘I didn’t—’

  ‘When you killed Detective—’

  ‘Stop! Stop it! I don’t know. I can’t… I can't do this.’

  Tabert sighed and closed the file. ‘The press might ask you any one of these questions. If you cannot answer the truth—’

  ‘But it's not the truth!’ I stood on my ridiculous heels and glared down at him. ‘None of what you are saying is true!’ Spittle sprayed on my chin. I wiped it away with my sleeve. I didn’t miss his look of disdain. ‘You called me here. You are making me lie to save your asses. So stop harassing me!’

  Everyone in the room looked from their screens to stare at me, many with their lips curled in disgust. I glared back at them, my eyebrows raised in challenge. What the hell is your problem?

  Tabert folded his hands on the file, his unruffled composure making me look like a kid having a tantrum. I needed to get a grip, to calm the erratic panic the whole situation provoked in me.

  ‘Have you finished?’ he asked, his hands linked together as he tapped his lip with his fingertips. I wanted to punch him right between his eyes. Maybe pregnancy did make me touchy.

  I drew in a deep, steady breath, smoothed down my jacket and sat back down. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. The press will fire rapid questions that you need to be prepared for. You cannot repeat what you just said.’

  ‘I know.’ I picked at my cuticles. Who did I think I was? I couldn’t pull this off.

  Tabert looked over my shoulder and nodded to someone. ‘It’s time.’ He stood and indicated for me to follow.

  I struggle to my feet, ready to snap the stupid heal on my shoe.

  Maria joined us, wearing trousers and a shirt. How did she get so lucky? ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Wait here, Miss Gibbons,’ Tabert said.

  Panic flared in me. I didn’t want to do this alone. I resisted the urge to grab Maria’s hand like a small child, needing comfort. I needed to be stronger, to control the fear clamped around my racing heart. After everything I had survived through, standing in front of cameras shouldn’t cause such rampant panic, but my chest constricted, making it impossible to breathe, and my vision wobbled.

  She saw the fear on my face and pulled me to one side. When Tabert protested, she glared at him, her magic pricking the air. ‘Bugger off for a minute.’ Her tone left no room for argument, and it caused my lips to twitch into a ghost of a smile until I remembered my upcoming task. I had been in front of the press before during Nathan's court case, and that had been one hell of a media circus, causing me many panic attacks. I knew from experience that, if I didn’t get my head straight, the media would get nothing more than videos of me huddled in a corner, sucking in huge lungsful of air while trying not to pass out or, worse, vomit.

  Maria bent her head close to mine and whispered, ‘Are you sure you want to do it their way?’ She didn’t need to spell it out. She wanted to know if I’d changed my mind about going public. As if we didn’t have enough problems already.

  I nodded. ‘I just want to get it over with.’ I envied her courage. She wouldn’t have worried about hurling her guts all over a stupid Barbie suit. If she were in my situation, she would march out with her head held high and her eyes blazing with determination.

  She exhaled with force, causing her lips to vibrate, and turned her body, shielding me from everyone in the room. ‘Let me sort your jacket out, then.’

  I blinked at her in question. There was nothing wrong with the jacket, yet she still spun me around. My confusion remained until she slipped the sheathed dagger down the back of my skirt, securing it in the tights.

  ‘Just in case.’ She smoothed the jacket over the top. ‘If nothing else, I know it’s like a security blanket to you.’ I could have kissed her but restrained myself to a quick hug.

  Tabert urged me out of the door, claiming that we were keeping the Prime Minister waiting. Maria muttered about how it wouldn’t do him any harm before the door closed, cutting her off.

  As I followed Tabert, my heart rate increased until harsh breaths forced themselves through my nose. My head spun, making it impossible to concentrate on the direction we travelled, let alone remember all the lies I needed to know. Who in their right mind had thought this would be a good idea? That person deserved to be shot.

  By the time we reached the foyer, my knotted stomach ached. I rubbed my hands together, my sweaty palms slipping against each other. Everything in me cried to run. I looked back, trying to work out my escape plan. There wasn’t one. I had no choice but to continue forwards, unless I hit the floor face first as I passed out. I paused, almost hoping that I would faint. Unfortunately, my body wouldn’t comply. Damn it! I had no choice.

  Who was I kidding? Even if I had spied an escape, I wouldn’t be able to take advantage. By doing this, the Damiq would be safe from the government. If I could secure that for Nicolai and his people, it would be worth it. I hoped it would be worth it.

  We stood for less than a minute before the Prime Minister joined us in the foyer. Two men and a woman followed him, listening with their heads close as he spoke to them in hushed tones.

  When the Prime Minister finished speaking, he turned to Tabert. ‘Is she briefed?’

  Tabert nodded. ‘I recommend she speaks as little as possible.’ A good call on his part. God knows what I would say if left to ramble.

  The Prime Minister nodded and gave me a cool look. ‘Are you prepared for what you must say?’

  I nodded, my mind numb. What would he do if I said no? Better still, what would he do if I followed Maria’s advice, walked out with him, and told the world about the Siis? Even that thought couldn’t bring a smile to my lips.

  The Prime Minister looked me up and down, taking in the way I wrung my hands together. ‘If you find yourself unable to answer, say nothing. Do you understand?’

  I nodded again, not sure I understood anything he said. My head felt heavy, like it would roll right off my shoulders. Surely they couldn’t blame me if I fainted? Come on body, pass out. Save me from this. Better still, vomit all over the P.M. That would serve him right and he would be unlikely to confront the media with chunks of chewed rabbit decorating his suit.

  ‘And remember, Ms. Martin, you are doing this for the people, to protect them.’

  I scowled, bored with the constant reminders. ‘So I've been told.’

  His eyes narrowed, and he opened his mouth to say more.

  ‘I will do as instructed,’ I said. ‘Nothing more and nothing less.’

  He studied me, trying to find signs of deception before he nodded and turned to the young woman at his side. ‘Have my family left?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Ten minutes ago.’

  ‘Is everything else prepped?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Thank you, Sara. Now follow my family.’

  ‘But sir—’

  The Prime Minister brushed his fingers over her shoulder, giving her a familiar parental look of affection. ‘You have helped all you can today. Now you need to stay with my wife and daughter until I get there.’

  She nodded and blinked, her eyes damp. What the hell? ‘Good luck, sir.’ She hurried back into the main house. One of the men followed her. The other remained, staring straight ahead. He had a hard glint to his eyes and, although he appeared to pay no attention, his shoulders remained tense.

  A police officer stood by the door. The Prime Minister nodded for him to open it. When he did, hazy sunlight lit the foyer. This was all really happening. Damn, I wish I were drunk!

  Tabert nudged me forwards, and I stumbled. Someone gripped my arm to steady me. I didn’t turn to see who. As soon as I found my balance, they released me, allowing me to follow the Prime Minister into the daylight.

  Cameras flared, the flashes bright, even under the cloudy sky. I threw my arm over my face, only to remember Tabert’s orders to look ahead with confidence. I lowered my arm but continued to flinch with each photo taken, as if the flashlig
ht had a physical presence trying to knock me off my feet.

  The Prime Minister talked to the press, but blood rushed in my ears making it impossible to hear anything. People called my name, demanding answers:

  ‘Ms. Martin, is it true...’

  ‘Ms. Martin, how did you know...’

  ‘Ms. Martin, why didn't you get help....’

  The questions went on and on, leaving me no time to answer any of them. I looked back to find that the door closed. There was no escape.

  ‘Ms. Martin...’

  ‘Ms. Martin...’

  I didn’t understand their questions. I shrank back, hugging myself. The dagger dug into my spine, but it brought no comfort. It wouldn’t help me here.

  The Prime Minister held his hand up, silencing the reporters. ‘One at a time, please. Ms. Martin is not accustomed to such attention.’ He pointed at a female journalist, one I vaguely recognised. ‘Beverly,’ he said.

  She pushed her microphone towards me. ‘What made you confront David Creed on your own?’

  For the first time, the crowd fell silent, though their cameras continued to flash and the red light on the video camera still blinked. They would watch the film later, going through it second by second, scrutinising all my facial expressions.

  I swallowed before answering. ‘I didn’t know whom to trust with the information I had.’

  Another reporter pushed forward with his microphone held towards me. ‘What information was that?’

  I had read the file enough times to remember the alleged facts, but my mind went blank. All I could think of was Creed dead, his arm draped over the table, his chest still smouldering from Maria’s power. Why wasn’t anyone talking over the reporter, demanding their questions be answered? Before they couldn’t shut up, yet now, they all stood looking at me, waiting for some form of response. I glanced at the Prime Minister, my face tight with fear. Give me a hoard of Fae over this any day.

  The Prime Minister answered for me. ‘When Nathan Dallinger escaped from prison, he captured Ms. Martin. As he believed that she wouldn’t escape alive, he divulged details of the attack, including accurate information about David Creed’s plans to release a biological weapon into the public.’