The Enhanced Series Boxset

by T. C. Edge

  I suppose, in many ways, I am so out of place here now.

  Before I pass through the door, however, the sound of voices reach my ears. One belongs to Mrs Carmichael, clear as day. The other is also familiar, and sets my teeth on edge and my heart racing as I step inside.

  Because standing with my guardian, I see the black eyes and grey hair and thin lips of the last person in the city I wanted to see again.

  Turning to my intrusion, Agent Woolf looks right through me, and a smooth voice drones from her throat.

  “Ah, Miss Melrose,” she says, before uttering the opposite sentiment to me. “Just the person I wanted to see…”

  72

  I step into the hall with a sudden caution spreading through me. Glancing at Mrs Carmichael, I see a similar affliction in her eyes, a warning issuing from within them.

  The only other person present in the room is Nate, standing behind the front desk. Quite why he’s here I don’t know. The position of gathering the mail is one he’s only required to hold in the morning. Perhaps he was just passing through, or went to open the door when it was rung.

  Whatever the case, he stands there with a firm glare at the back of Agent Woolf’s head. Around here, she’s not a popular woman.

  I have to think fast, though. And my immediate suspicion is that she’s here, as she said she would be, to follow up on some loose threads and make sure that all the residents’ memories tally up. Clearly, she’s found something of interest to her.

  And clearly, that involves me.

  “Good afternoon, Agent Woolf,” I say as casually as I can manage. “What brings you here?”

  I move on around to the desk where Nate stands and drop my bags beside him. He continues to glower beneath burning eyes at the woman, only passing his gaze to me when I speak.

  “Nate, would you mind taking these bags to my room please?”

  He doesn’t need to be told twice. Scooping up my shopping, he immediately begins working his way towards and up the spiral staircase, offering the agent a final dagger-infused stare as he goes.

  She doesn’t appear to notice, or care. I guess she’s used to it.

  My slight delay has given me an opportunity to relax a little. When I turn to look at her again, I’ve managed to cool my beating heart and steady my breathing. Her ice-cold eyes, like black diamonds, continue to follow my movements.

  Finally, she answers.

  “I’m here to talk to you, Brie, about your friend, Joshua Brent.”

  Of course she is.

  “Oh, are you still investigating that?” I ask, semi-dismissively.

  “I am,” she responds dryly. “There are some inconsistencies that I’ve unearthed around here. I need to just clear them up.”

  “OK, that’s, um, not a problem at all,” I say, checking my watch. “Shall we get on with it then?”

  I begin moving towards the corridor at the back of the hall, heading for the common room. No doubt it will be occupied right now, helping me buy some time.

  Her monotone voice stops me.

  “Not here,” she says. “I’d like you to accompany me to my office in Inner Haven.”

  I stop on the spot and slowly turn.

  “I…I’m sorry, I have an important engagement,” I say.

  Mrs Carmichael adds her voice to the fray.

  “I was just telling the agent exactly that,” she says, turning to Agent Woolf. “She is courting a Savant, as you know…”

  “Yes, I’m well aware. It isn’t a problem at all, Miss Melrose. The City Guard headquarters isn’t far from the Court House, where I assume you’ll be meeting Mr Shaw. I will have him informed of your location. He can collect you from outside once we’re done.”

  I consider several excuses as she speaks. None of them are logical enough, however, and she’ll no doubt have a workaround for each. I have no choice but to agree, and to do so willingly. Showing any signs of guilt right now could be fatal.

  “That sounds agreeable,” I say, nodding respectfully to her. “I will need to just go upstairs and get changed, if that’s OK?”

  She nods her consent, and I begin working my way up the spiral staircase. I find Nate on his way back down the corridor, still grimacing. His eyes lift a little when he sees me.

  “Don’t let that woman back in my head, Brie. Please…”

  “Don’t worry,” I say, “she’s only here for me. She’ll be leaving the academy momentarily. You can stick around here, if you want, until she’s gone.”

  He nods, moves to the wall, and takes a seat as I press on towards my room.

  Unsurprisingly, Tess is still at work, our time together now so fleeting. We’ve barely spoken two words to each other for a week now. Since she found me passed out on the floor after returning from the outerlands, I still haven’t really had a chance to talk with her…

  And then the thought hits me, and a strike of panic cuts through my chest.

  Tess found me in that state, my hands cut and my mind delirious. Mrs Carmichael said she heard my feverish ramblings as she helped patch me up, heard me mumbling on about the firefight and the river and the toxic mist.

  I think back, quickly rushing into my own mind to find the memory. Mrs Carmichael had told me that Tess didn’t know what to make of it, that none of it made sense to her.

  But what if it did? What if I’ve been talking about other such things in my sleep? What if Agent Woolf found all of those things in Tess’s head when she went exploring?

  I pace around the room for a minute, wondering what the hell to do. Thinking how stupid I was to not include Tess when Zander hid Mrs Carmichael and my memories. I never considered that she really knew anything. I took it all for granted.

  Now, has that doomed me?

  Has that doomed us all?

  I can’t be sure. Maybe Agent Woolf never went looking for such things? She was, after all, only searching for our knowledge of Drum. Why would she bother looking for anything about me?

  The fresh thought helps to calm me a little.

  Most likely, she’s merely here to find out why I rushed off after hearing of Drum’s fate. That is all directly linked, and she’d have seen all that play out from the various kids who were in the hall at the time.

  If that’s the case, perhaps I can figure a way around this? It’s bad, but not as bad as discovering all of my crazy ramblings from Tess. My friend may have not put it all together, but a woman like Agent Woolf?

  Well, that’s her job, after all.

  Still, there’s nothing I can do but follow her instructions. And right now, taking too long to put on some clothes is going to appear suspicious.

  So I quickly pull out some new garments, choosing to dress more comfortably this time in blue pants, a shirt, and a light sweater, and work my way back into the corridor. I pass Nate, take a deep breath, and emerge at the top of the spiral staircase, steadying my pacing heart once more as I descend.

  I find Mrs Carmichael in a tense conversation. She looks quite timid – an unusual disposition for her – as if Agent Woolf’s taken the time to explore her mind a little further. As soon as I arrive, my guardian’s eyes lift to me sheepishly, eagerly turning from the penetrating gaze of the cold and otherworldly Savant.

  Agent Woolf turns with her, rotating her head like an owl.

  “You’re ready. Good. Let’s go,” come her droning, mechanical words.

  I pass Mrs Carmichael with a look of assurance to help alleviate her concerns.

  After all, if I get found out, then there’s a good chance that she might as well. She probably doesn’t care much about what happens to her, but more the kids. Naturally, should she fall, that first domino will go crashing into the next, and the next, and on and on until they’re all lying flat.

  And should that happen, all these kids will end up out on the streets.

  It’s strange to say it, but that might just be the least of my worries. While the fate of this academy might be balancing on her shoulders, the fate of the city ap
pears to be on mine.

  And truth be told, it’s starting to get real heavy.

  And my knees are just beginning to buckle…

  I follow the agent out of the building, dressed up in the light blue colours of the Unenhanced that contrast so distinctively with the dark, urban hues of Brick Lane. Agent Woolf, of course, wears her light grey, walking upright and rigid as she approaches a vehicle parked a little way down the street.

  That, too, sticks out quite firmly, and I’m surprised I didn’t notice it when I returned here with Sophie.

  It’s sleek and dark and emblazoned with the city insignia, a clear indication of its birthplace across the wall. An inquisitiveness follows my step as I go, every set of eyes that bear down on me refusing to leave until I step into the car and disappear out of sight. And even then, their eyes just stare at the vehicle until it, too, whirs off away towards the western gate.

  My light blue outfit would be enough to garner significant attention. The fact that I’m being taken off in an official vehicle of Inner Haven with a Savant takes such interest to a whole new level.

  My mind, however, isn’t occupied by any sort of awkwardness or discomfort at the collective gaze. I’m getting well used to that.

  No. Right now, I’m thinking furiously about how to deal with any query Agent Woolf sets down, and I’m working away busily in my head in an attempt to shield any new memories I’ve formed that my be incriminating.

  The only mercy I’m getting right now is that Agent Woolf has little interest in speaking with me. Until we arrive at her place of work, she appears content with merely staring forward in silence.

  Sitting on the right of the car, I turn my head to look out of the window, making sure my eyes cannot be seen. Then, I begin blurring my memories and focusing on the task at hand. If I need to repel her, I will.

  I just have to hope that Zander’s training is enough.

  I’m so preoccupied that I don’t actually note the passing of the time, or look upon the outside world as it alters and shifts from colourful and vibrant to bland and lifeless. Only the curving nature of the Spiral gives me any feeling of motion, the car swirling around towards the core of the city.

  Before I even know it, the vehicle is slowing right up under the shadow of the High Tower. I take note of our position and see that we’re on the southside of the Inner Spiral, with the Court House a little way away to the north.

  I turn to Agent Woolf, and speak for the first time.

  “I’m meant to be meeting Adryan at 7PM,” I inform her. “How will you contact him to tell him I’m here?”

  “I already have,” she says.

  I stare at her blankly. She offers no further explanation.

  “How?” I’m forced to ask.

  She turns her left sleeve to reveal an interface on its underside. No other information is provided. I can only assume she used it to either contact Adryan directly – although, I doubt she knows him – or passed the information on to some other entity, such as the Council of Matrimony or the Institute of Human Relations where he works, for them to then give him the message.

  Either way, she seems confident that he’s been informed. And now, more than ever, I’m desperate to see him, if only to be away from this woman.

  Beneath the High Tower we pull to a stop, and Agent Woolf’s eyes guide mine outside the car to the right. There, a fairly intimidating building awaits, its façade like a fortress and with the city badge seared into its metal and stone exterior.

  She steps out of the vehicle and I do the same, before it automatically moves off down the street, working its way to some predetermined spot. Trying to keep the bubbling nerves inside me from showing, I look at Agent Woolf in a manner that suggests I have nothing to hide.

  “So, this is where you work, Agent Woolf?” I ask.

  “When I’m not out around the city, yes,” she answers in her plain fashion. “This is the headquarters of the City Guard, and therefore is also home to the SCU. Come along, Miss Melrose. If we can keep Mr Shaw from waiting, that would be favourable.”

  And on that count, I completely agree.

  We move towards the main entranceway into the building, its wide metal doors fixed in an open position, revealing a spacious lobby beyond. Inside, I find all manner of Enhanced going about their business, most of them the regular Hawks, Brutes, Dashers and so on who comprise the physical fighting force of the City Guard.

  As is the way of Inner Haven, the interior of the building contains no ornamentation or embellishment. It is entirely functional, perhaps more so than any other structure I’ve visited. The vestibule is simple and uncluttered, merely intended, it would seem, as a central core to provide passage to other parts of the building.

  Our journey takes us left, my form being inspected as I go by the various men populating the lobby. Seeing a woman dressed in light blue, I suspect, is a rather unusual sighting here. And, on top of that, it’s quite possible that they recognise me too, given my current level of popularity and fame around the city.

  Along the left side of the atrium, a bank of lifts await. Agent Woolf swiftly guides me towards one of them. It opens automatically as she approaches, and we step in.

  “Floor 12,” she says.

  The door shuts and the lift rises, shooting straight up through the building. When we step out, I find us in another hall, smaller this time, with the walls peppered with corridors and doors marked by their specific purpose.

  Some carry the names of high-ranking officers of the City Guard. Others appear to be used for other purposes like surveillance or intelligence. One sticks out in my mind for the writing inscribed on its front: Archives.

  My mind shifts for a moment away from my current predicament, zeroing in on thoughts of my parents. Could there be records in there about them? My father was a member of the City Guard after all. Perhaps there are service records detailing his time here?

  Distracted by the sudden thought, I find my focus waning. I quickly temper the desire to think in more detail about my parents, and the many tangents such thoughts bring. It’s a dangerous road to travel in current company. The last thing I want is for Agent Woolf to slip inside my mind and see such things play out.

  So I refocus once more as we move down a separate corridor, working deeper towards the rear of the building. At the end, I find an office marked with the name of my taciturn companion. She steps through the steel door and enters into a room as clean and uncluttered as the lobby down below.

  Inside, I find little more than a metal desk and chairs. The place is as inhospitable a room as I could conceive, appearing as nothing more than a space used for interrogation.

  Agent Woolf guides her path straight towards the far side of the desk and takes a seat, before inviting me to do the same. The chair opposite is positioned directly in front of her and fixed to the floor.

  I slide in, the chrome surface of the desk trapping me in place. I have little option but to stare straight at her, which is probably the idea.

  The room appears to be intended to make life as uncomfortable as possible for anyone Agent Woolf intends to deal with. To make sure they’re off-guard and therefore easier to manipulate. I suspect she reserves this place for her trickier customers, setting them on edge and putting their backs to the wall.

  Clearly, she’s deemed me sufficiently crafty to be brought here, perhaps sensing that I was hiding something. And now, here in her private chambers, she’ll have plenty of time to dig away at my mind if she sees fit.

  And in time, she’ll unearth the truth.

  It just depends on how long I can repel her…

  73

  Sitting in the straight-backed metal chair, I feel an ache quickly begin to creep through me. It’s an ache in my back, in my legs, in my head. There’s something about this horrible place that seems to seep into you, bring about a bad feeling that radiates from your very core.

  Even before she asks a question, I’m starting to feel the heat.

  �
�So, Miss Melrose, shall we begin?”

  I ready myself for the inevitable psychological battle, and nod.

  To my surprise, however, I don’t feel her slipping inside my mind. She glances to my appearance instead, as if noticing for the first time how I’m dressed.

  “It’s an unusual outfit,” she says. “Are you not too warm, wearing two layers?”

  What is this? Is she trying to disarm me?

  “I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you for your concern.”

  Her thin lips try to curl but fail. Her eyes try to lighten a little, a hint of glow catching on the black, but quickly fade. She stares at me through her shark-eyes, even her blinking robotic and seeming to operate by mental design and not instinct.

  “Let me explain why you’re here,” she begins, her own posture as rigid as mine. Looking upon her chair, it looks like it’s equally uncomfortable. Some sort of personal form of self-torture, perhaps, to keep her continually focused. “When I visited your academy several days ago, I found some threads of memory that didn’t line up as they should have…”

  I brace for the reveal. She’s so hard to read that her next words could be just about anything. She could just as well tell me knows everything, or nothing, and her expression would never change at all.

  “My focus was on discovering if anyone knew about the whereabouts, or means of escape, of your friend Joshua Brent. What I found odd was that, upon hearing the news of his incarceration, many of your fellow residents at Carmichael’s witnessed you rushing out of the academy in a state of desperation and anxiety.”

  Ah, so it is about that…

  She stops briefly. I feel I’m expected to speak, or offer some explanation.

  “Yes,” I say. “I was distraught. Drum – Josh –is one of my best friends. It was a very hard thing to hear.”

  “I comprehend what you’re saying,” she drones. “Such emotional reactions are common among your kind. I see them often in my line of work. However, your reaction was not the odd part of it. What was unusual was that your memory of that event was so faded in your mind. Seeing as it was such a recent, and shocking, memory to you, that is rather strange.”