by T. C. Edge
With my heart threatening to leap from my mouth, I wait for the deluge of men to advance on our group. I count at least a dozen of them coming straight for us, and a number of them have eyes on me. By the looks of things, Sophie wasn’t lying when she told me I was the talk of the town.
Dressed and made up much the same as I was during the ceremony, I’m fairly easy to spot. The first to swoop, perhaps unsurprisingly, is a Dasher, utilising his speed to dance his way to the front of the queue.
As I’ve been taught, etiquette states that only one Enhanced can talk to a girl at a time. He’ll be given a few minutes to speak with me before another man gets his turn.
As he bears down on me, I note his youthful visage. He looks to be younger than I am, an excitable child so thrilled to be surrounded by such a bevy of beauties.
Like a puppy he comes bounding, skipping forward and arriving in front of me in a flash. I suspect that he’s overstepping the mark, his excitement getting the better of him. The exuberance of youth, I suppose, is something even the Savants can’t stifle completely.
With a warm smile he approaches, stopping a metre or so away and performing a little bow of respect. I follow, mimicking his action as the official greeting protocol demands.
Next, I’m supposed to wait for him to speak first. I don’t have to wait long.
“Your name’s Brie, isn’t it?” he asks fervently, his voice exploding out of him.
“I am,” I answer calmly.
“I knew it was you! I saw you at the ceremony. My friends are going to love this. Is your friend here too? What was her name? Um…no, don’t tell me, I’ll remember. Hmmmmm….what was it? Oh yeah, Tess. That’s it, right? Tess?”
His words tumble so fast I can barely hear what he’s saying. I know that Dashers have a tendency to talk quickly sometimes, but this is something else. Surely a mixture of his bloodline and his excitement? The kid probably has ADHD too.
Imagine that, a Dasher with ADHD. I feel for the girl who ends up with him.
Of course, it won’t be me. That honour will go to the mystery man known as Adryan, who must be somewhere in this room. Foolishly, with everything going down so quickly, I’d forgotten to ask either Lady Orlando or Zander what sort of Enhanced he was. I can only hope he isn’t like this particular boy.
“So…I’m right, yeah?” comes the boy’s voice once more.
He’d barely given me a split second to answer. The world must run in slow motion to him.
“Yes, that’s right,” I tell him.
He beams.
“I knew it. So, she’s here?”
I shake my head.
“Unfortunately not.”
His eyebrows do a little dance of disappointment.
“Aw, you’re kidding. I liked her a lot.”
I don’t know whether to feel insulted or relieved. Clearly, he only came over to me to ask about Tess.
“Well, you should have invited her,” I suggest. “I’ve heard that an invite from an Enhanced means a girl can forgo the scouting and testing process?”
“Sometimes,” he says, shrugging. “Depends on what rank you are.”
“Rank?”
“Yeah, rank. Like, I’m a Dasher, and I’m only 18…”
Ah, so he’s 18. He seems younger really.
“I live on the Outer Spiral,” he continues. “And I don’t work for the City Guard or anything. I’ve got a boring job really,” he chuckles. “So yeah, I’m quite a low rank. I can’t invite anyone here.”
He seems quite jovial about it all. Clearly, he has no problem talking himself down. It’s refreshing to see, actually. Other than his super-speed, this kid’s just like any of them over at the academy.
I guess he was just born on the right side of the tracks. Or wrong, depending on how you look at it…
“Well, maybe Tess will be scouted one day,” I say. “She’s clever, and I know she wants to marry up. Hopefully you’ll meet her next time.”
“Yeah, hopefully. Unless I find someone else tonight!”
Again, I feel a pinch of pity for whoever that might be.
Then again, nothing says you have to court an Enhanced if you don’t want to. If one choses you above all others, and has designs to make you his wife, then there’s no obligation to follow through.
That said, such a thing would be extremely rare. For a regular Unenhanced girl to deny the advances of an Enhanced would be considered hugely disrespectful. Every girl who is scouted is fully aware that they have little choice in the matter should they be chosen.
As the boy begins to chatter away again, a finger the size of a toddler’s arm taps him on the shoulder.
“Time’s up, boy,” comes a deep and resounding voice.
So caught up was I with the young Dasher that I’d barely paid any attention to the man approaching behind him. As my eyes rear up, however, they take in a colossal form, a vast shadow filling the space at his back.
The Dasher turns, and his eyes greet the barrel chest of a Brute, one who appears to be at least twice his age and several times his size. The boy’s eyes arch up, and with a little nervous squeak he says: “Sure, sir, she’s all yours…”
With a sheepish glance back at me, he scoots away in search of an easier prize.
The Brute takes a step forward. The ground seems to shake. As is the custom, he performs the expected head bow, his gigantic dome dipping and rising back up to a height of what must be well over 8 feet.
I do the same, and then wait for him to speak.
When he does, his breath comes at me like a tornado.
“Brie Melrose,” he says, with a great deal more composure that my last suitor. “We’ve met once before. Or, well, met isn’t really true. We’ve been in close contact.”
“Erm…really?” I say uneasily.
“Yes. It’s no wonder you don’t remember. I was wearing a helmet and my uniform at the time. I’m a member of the City Guard. I was there the day you performed so admirably after the attack at Culture Corner. Might I say, bravo. It took courage to act as you did.”
He reaches forward with his champagne glass, which appears so small between his meaty fingers.
I do the same, and clink my glass to his, before taking a sip.
“Thank you for your kind words,” I say, gazing skyward to his face. “I was just happy to help.”
A rush of concern sweeps through me. Is this Adryan? Is this the man I’m here to meet?
The thought is quickly dismissed as the Brute speaks again.
“Well, I just wanted to come and say hello,” he booms. “I have no designs on you, don’t worry…”
“Worry?”
His mouth builds into a smile, one which reminds me of Drum. Although this man’s dimensions are on a whole other level.
“Yes. I’m well aware that my order of Enhanced isn’t the most appealing to you ladies. I’ve been to these balls several times before with little luck, and have no interest in courting a girl unless she reciprocates.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” I say. “I’m sure there are lots of girls here who’d like to court you?”
“Don’t be so sure, young lady. Most tend to be drawn to the Hawks,” he sighs. “No matter. I’ve dedicated my life to other pursuits, and am proud to represent the City Guard. Your courage was a reminder to me that we aren’t so different after all, Miss Melrose. I haven’t been to a bachelor ball in many years, and came tonight because I heard you were coming, and I wanted to meet you…”
“Meet me?”
He nods respectfully once more.
“Don’t be so surprised, Miss Melrose,” he says, attempting to lower his thunderous voice. “We’re not all like the Savants…”
I frown at him, but he merely smiles once more.
“Good evening,” he says again. “I hope you find who, or what, you’re looking for.”
He turns and wanders off, blending as best he can back into the crowd. And with his mountainous frame removed from my view,
a clearer picture of the hall appears before me.
A sigh escapes my lips. A queue appears to have formed.
Several men line up, one behind the other, waiting to greet me. Frankly, it baffles me as to why I’m so popular.
As the next hour or so progresses, it becomes clear why I’m being sought out. Mostly, I’m asked about my time in Inner Haven the last time I came here, and whether I heard anything from Deputy Burns when the Nameless took over the video feed.
I play dumb when queried on such things, much to their disappointment. Upon hearing I have nothing to share, most quickly abandon their time with me. And here was me thinking rumour and gossip were frowned upon around here.
Apparently not…
The night is exhausting. I start spending more and more time looking at the clock, wondering where the hell this Adryan is.
Has he not shown up? Does he actually know which one I am among all these blue-dressed clones?
The more men I meet, and the more champagne I’m required to sip through little toasts, the more my head begins to throb. With the hall so brightly lit, and with a constant smile forced onto my face, my eyes start to ache too. I begin to grow warm, sweat building on my forehead and cutting streaks through my makeup.
I can only imagine that I’m starting to look a mess. Hair growing damp and lank, makeup running, eyes squinting and posture drooping. The only benefit is that the queue before me begins to thin, several men appearing put off by my increasing dishevelment.
Currently, I count three in line. Only half an hour ago, the queue was double that.
As the latest man steps forward, however, a smooth voice issues from the side.
“I think I’ll take this one.”
Through my aching, squinting eyes, I see a form drift casually from the crowd. He moves to the man before me, who immediately dips his head in reverence and steps back.
“Yes, of course, sir,” he says. “Take as much time as you desire.”
The new entrant takes the man’s place. It’s obvious why.
He’s wearing light grey.
He’s a Savant.
Despite my aversion to his kind, I instinctively straighten my posture and widen my eyes. The light burns, but I try not to show any discomfort.
Through my partially blurred vision, his face comes into view. There’s a smile on it, his lips shut tight and cool grey-blue eyes staring right at me. He’s clearly well versed in attempting human emotion. Unlike most Savants, he’s able to mimic us quite well.
The customs are observed. Nods and little bows and all that stuff I’m growing very bored of. Then, I stand as straight as I can and wait for him to address me. He takes a moment to examine me first, his icy grey-blue eyes paying particular attention to mine, burning under the dual attack of the lights and his penetrating gaze. Then, he speaks.
“Good evening, Brie,” he says, his voice also a little less monotone than most of his kind. “Please accept my apology for barging in like this.”
“That’s your prerogative, or so I understand,” I respond flatly.
If he can mimic us, then I can mimic them. But then, part of me is ‘them’. God this is so confusing…
“Indeed it is. But I need to apologise for something more.”
He takes a little step towards me. No one else has come so close. Another right of the Savants, perhaps, that the rest don’t enjoy.
Closing the gap, his words tighten too. The room is loud and full of chattering. His voice becomes a whisper, slipping through the din and into my ears.
“I wanted to speak to you earlier, but I thought it best not to rush straight in. Better to make things look natural.”
“Sorry. I’m lost.”
I ease a little away from him to get a better look at his face. There’s the tiniest glint shining in his eyes, hidden behind layers of ice. Like the sun rising over the frozen tundra, bringing light to an otherwise desolate world.
“That’s OK, and highly understandable,” he says quietly. “We have much to discuss, although this really isn’t the place.” His eyes narrow and his head tilts just slightly to one side. “I suspect, given your expression, that you weren’t expecting a man like me?”
“I…I…”
“Yes indeed, that confirms it. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Brie. I trust you’ve been told my name at least?”
“Adryan,” I whisper.
His expression undulates. Not quite as flat as other Savants. Frosty and largely cast from stone, yes, but less rigid than any other Savants I’ve seen.
“Good, well that’s a start. Now, I won’t stay with you too long this evening. Such a thing is unbecoming and unfair to the rest. I suspect that several men will wish to court you. But that won’t be a problem…”
I feel my body beginning to burn. My head pulses like a beating drum. My eyes continue to blur, the bright lights around me sending shards of glass right into my brain.
“Why not?” I manage to mumble.
“Because I outrank them. I could have the pick of anyone here. And I’ll choose you. No one will find that too surprising, given your recent popularity and fame. Remember…our subterfuge must be convincing. We have started the ball rolling with this conversation. But we’re only just beginning…”
His words start to fade. I blink hard a few times, trying to wash away the growing haze, but all that does it draw in the blackness.
Slowly but surely, the room becomes smaller, and the walls of darkness start to close in. I can’t hold it any longer. My brain feels like it’s about to explode.
My legs are the first to go, with my brain shutting off moments after. All I hear is my champagne flute shattering on the floor, and see the ground rushing up to my face.
Then, nothing but blackness.
35
I wake in unfamiliar surroundings.
There’s a dullness to my senses as my eyes creak open, letting in the light. At first, I can barely make out what’s in front of me. Then, the shape of two eyes appears, surrounded by wrinkled old skin. They seem to be right in front of me, as if they’re mere millimetres from my face.
I instantly blink hard and recoil. When I open my eyes again, however, the eyes have drawn right back, and now their owner comes into full view.
Mrs Carmichael stands above me, her brows wrinkled and drawn together. She holds a damp cloth in one hand, and a cigarette in the other.
As my eyes widen, I note that the dull throb in my head has subsided. Now, a feeling of numbness has set in, as though I’m suffering some partial paralysis.
I try to get up, but fail, my limbs feeling too heavy to move.
“Settle down now, Brie,” comes Mrs Carmichael’s croaky voice. “You had a nasty fall.”
I check the cloth in her hand again and note that it’s littered with red stains.
“What happened?” I groan, reaching to my forehead. I appear to have several little cuts, each coated in a layer of antiseptic healing cream. They’re quickly on the mend.
Mrs Carmichael pulls my hand away.
“Don’t go messing with my work. From what I gather, you passed out and fell on some broken glass. Sophie told me you were feeling ill all day. You should never have attended the ball in such a state…”
Ah yes, the champagne glass. I must have fallen on its shattered shards.
“You know I couldn’t miss it,” I mumble weakly. “I needed to go.”
“And did you find who you were looking for?”
I nod, thinking back. Adryan. He was a Savant…
With a renewed effort, I manage to drag my body up in the bed. I take a look around the room and note that it’s one I’ve never been in. However, the smell is familiar to me. A sweet and natural aroma of flowers seeps up my nose.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“At the training house Sophie took you to,” she tells me. “You’ve been out all night. She called me as soon as she got you back. How do you feel now?”
“Better,” I
say, wincing slightly. “But I still ache all over.”
She nods and turns her eyes to the door behind her. It’s shut tight, only the two of us in the room. Still, she sees fit to bend her old frame down a bit and lower her voice to a whisper.
“You do know what’s wrong with you, don’t you? It’s your abilities, Brie. They’re beginning to manifest. Your body is going through a lot of changes.”
I sigh and place my hand on my boiling forehead once more, grimacing as my fingers graze the little wounds.
“I didn’t think it would happen so fast,” I moan. “Although, I guess Zander did say it would start after a few days off the drugs. And…he said it would be uncomfortable. He certainly got that right.”
“I can see it,” she says, still leaning down. “Your eyes are bloodshot. Your body is covered in bruises. And I can only guess what’s happening inside your head. It’s the price you pay, I suppose.”
“And I’ll pay it,” I say defiantly. “I’ll pay it ten times over if I have to.”
“Be careful what you wish for. I suspect this is only the start.”
A creaking noise issues from behind her and she quickly straightens and turns her old spine. Sophie flows through the doorway like a breath of fresh air, bringing a stronger whiff of flowers with her. In her hands she holds a vase with an array of colourful blossoms.
“I thought I’d brighten up the room, Brenda,” she says as she comes. Her eyes turn to me. “Brie! You’re awake…”
She speeds forward, passing Mrs Carmichael the vase – much to her annoyance – before reaching out and brushing her fingers through my hair. A couple of fingers then lay flat on my forehead for a few moments, carefully making sure to avoid any cuts.
“You still feel hot. It must be a fever. How do you feel?”
“A lot better,” I say. “I didn’t embarrass myself too much, did I? At the ball, I mean?”
“Oh goodness, no. Don’t worry, you barely caused a stir. It happens sometimes. Some girls can’t take the pressure of being introduced to so many Enhanced. Not that that’s what happened with you, of course,” she hastily adds.
“No…”
