Feargus

  More than controlling the flow of information in favour of the crew, one of the main reasons I was keeping Faust in the dark about so many things was a matter of security.

  By the sounds, there’d been some fallout from Lucas Bellamy’s return to Palisade.

  Remember: I’d revealed myself to Bells. If the non-allied Councilwoman caught wind of that, they’d know they were lied to by Faust, Kelly, and Hall. They might then also learn the others weren’t actually dead, and wonder if the those same Councilwomen had anything to do with that, too. Not to mention, the key to the keyhole in the mountain would have gone missing from Oranen’s belongings not long before everybody was deployed to Amalia.

  All that to say: I felt the ripple, and I may have been the one to cast the stone.

  Aye, I may have made a huge mistake revealing myself to Bells to get more information on the plan so I could ask Zack to help the crew. And if Faust were to be called before the Six under suspicion of treachery, our knowledge wouldn’t be safe with her, would it? No doubt she had solid counter-telepathy skills, of course, but against six ancient six-times-mixed Partisan-Anima hybrids, I reckoned they were as good as none.

  I was still reasonably hopeful Bells had managed to keep my secret, though. I knew he had strong defenses against telepathy because that was vital for a messenger gig, and I had to figure if he’d been coerced or violated, I’d be in some serious hot water with Faust for defying orders in a matter so delicate. There was no way she’d let me get away with something like that, was there? Well, I really didn’t know. But believe me: I’d have never revealed myself to Bells if I’d have known he’d be going straight back to Palisade.

  Anyhow, it was late afternoon by the time we arrived in Leberecht, almost time for the diurnal residents to scurry inside so the nocturnal residents could throw another festival, I reckoned. The first time I’d visited the mountain, there’d been loads of entertainment along the ramps at night: dancers, and jugglers, that man riding the strange one-wheeled contraption. But now that I knew the extent of what was really going on in the city, everything looked back at me from inside a different frame.

  Everyone we passed along the way, stopped to greet Faust.

  “Fair afternoon,” they all said.

  Faust was gracious, but her eyes were sad.

  Which I reckoned was better than being empty like theirs.

  Right?

  Well, actually—after the past couple weeks I'd had, and with the way I'd been feeling as a result, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

  Our first stop was the Iron Hand headquarters, marked by the giant blue banners outside the door. There was nothing surprising about the welcome the Councilwoman received, and once the formalities and everything else were out of the way, Faust called the second in command into Marta’s former office. She took the big chair.

  It didn’t take a genius to sort out what the meeting would be about. With Marta gone, the Councilwoman officially—but still temporarily—promoted the boring-looking fellow in her place. It was rather obvious Faust gave zero pee-pee bottles about this man, or who was in charge of the Iron Hand at the moment. She was just going through the motions, mates. Otherwise, the meeting was uninteresting, so I stared at the wall for a short mental rest.

  “Funny timing, though,” the plain, pimply new Commander commented. “Marta Reider taking off right before Michael Reider returns home. What are the odds?”

  “Essentially zero,” Faust answered. “But there’s nothing to be done about it now, is there? Do you have any updates on Michael Reider?”

  “I can do you one better, Councilwoman. May I be dismissed for a moment?”

  Faust waved a hand in a ‘do what you want’ kind of way, proving my point about the pee-pee bottles. The Iron Hand left the office, and we waited in silence.

  When the door finally opened again, I turned around expecting to see the pimply fellow, but I got one of my favourite faces instead. He was wearing civilian clothes, and overall, Michael looked great. Alive, for one. And he seemed rested, his shoulders were held upright, and his smile was wide. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen him smile, maybe not even once since arriving in Amalia. That took a load off my heart.

  “’Ey, mate,” I said with a smile of my own. I was concerned he’d be mad at me for not being dead, especially after how badly he’d taken the news.

  But he just looked at me sideways, and then he turned to Faust.

  “Councilwoman Faust,” he said.

  The Councilwoman stood from the chair, reaching across to shake Michael’s hand. He seemed pleased to be there, if a little confused as to why. She sat back down and gestured to the seat beside mine. She waited until he was settled to speak again.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I’m not sure what you mean,” Michael answered.

  “After the accident…?” Faust tried.

  Michael hesitated. “I think you might have me confused with someone else.”

  “You know, I must have,” Faust replied. “Word of advice: don’t ever get old.”

  Between not recognizing me, and not remembering what had happened to him, that was enough to confirm that the Michael we were in contact with wasn’t the exact same Michael we knew, and that he’d absolutely been tampered with by the Trio.

  Ten, twelve, eighteen minutes while I sat listening to a conversation between one of my best mates who had no idea who I was, and Councilwoman Faust doing her best not to confuse him. At one point, he thanked her profusely for finding him a spot in the Iron Hand.

  This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.

  We all know she hadn’t done that, but she said, “You earned it,” anyway.

  The meeting with Michael was cut short when he insisted he be home before curfew. Councilwoman Faust promised not to fine him, but he said his parents would worry. She let it go, and after politely dismissing him, we didn’t stick around the headquarters for long.

  There wasn’t much to be said about what we’d seen from Michael, and while we walked the ramps, I could practically hear the gears turning in the Councilwoman’s head. By the time we neared our destination, the night festival was just about underway.

  To say I was panicked about visiting The Studio with Faust, with no more food-related problem, and with all that knowledge swimming around in my head, would be a massive understatement. I was walking straight into number of serious issues. For one, if Avis noticed I no longer had the food-related problem, who would I say fixed it? Matilda and Delilah were working in secret to help Avis. Was all that about to come crashing down, too?

  Would I even be able to lie? The last time I was there, I couldn’t.

  Faust knocked three times on the door, and everything I was worrying about was hinging on which one of the Trio answered. Twelve, twenty, twenty-five, thirty, thirty-two seconds before the door opened. It was Delilah.

  So, I thanked the goddess Rhian Lucky Sinclair, and I plastered a smile on my face, though I wasn’t sure how much winning it was doing. Following my lead, Delilah smiled brightly, too, but the contraption hovering above her open palm remained almost still.

  “Councilwoman,” she said, looking from Faust to me, and back again.

  “Tinkerer,” Councilwoman Faust replied.

  Did she not even know Delilah’s real name? Poor Faust.

  The Tinkerer’s contraption spun around. “How can we help you?”

  “Please send for The Artist,” Faust said.

  Delilah shook her head. “You’ll have to come back. She’s having her beauty treatments.”

  “I see,” Faust replied. “And how much longer do you expect she’ll be indisposed?”

  Delilah looked to me, then back to Faust. “Two hours and forty-one minutes.”

  I caught the Councilwoman shake her head just as I’m sure we all heard the footsteps coming. It wasn’t long before Matilda appeared behind Delilah, tall enough to tower over her head. The quill bobbed beside her.

  “Councilwoman,” Matilda said.

  “Writer,” Faust replied.

  The second set of awkward greetings were followed by an even more awkward silence that seemed to go on forever, and I was just hoping everybody would hurry up and screw me over already. The anticipation was giving me a cramp in my chest.

  Matilda nudged Delilah aside gently. “Please, the both of you. Come in.”

  “Yeah, please,” Delilah added. “Come in.”

  Well, that was unexpected, wasn’t it? I spared a quick glance toward Faust who looked about as confused as I felt, but what could we do? The Councilwoman stepped inside first, so I took a moment to think about my sister, V, Zack, Alex, Della, Derek, Strauss, Sebastian, Michael, my parents, and all the people I loved—even Everleigh. If I was minutes away from forgetting everything I’ve ever known, I figured I might as well enjoy the nice memories one last time.

  When I finally stepped inside The Studio, the door slammed shut and locked behind me.

  Here we go.

  Matilda and Delilah sat us in the salon, and promptly excused themselves to fetch refreshments. If nothing else, I expected the snacks would be good again. I wondered why they kept so much food on hand, but then I answered my own question straightaway. Even if they didn’t have to, I reckoned their experiments still needed to eat.

  While we waited for the duo to return, I caught the Councilwoman staring up at the portrait of Sebastian Vonsinfonie without his mask on. Knowing she very likely had no clue it was Sebastian, she might have been wondering who that impossibly foxy Partisan was. That's what I'd have been wondering.

  I’d been able to count to three hundred and fifty-seven before Matilda and Delilah joined us with a platter of sandwiches and a kettle of hot water for tea. Look, I had no interest in tea at the moment. My insides were burning up already. But I needed something to distract my hands, something to distract my brain, something to calm me down so I could function. I reached for a sandwich, thanked the pair, and took a bite.

  Faust didn’t.

  “So, what brings you by, Councilwoman?” Matilda asked this time.

  “A simple misunderstanding,” Faust replied. “I’ll ask you to reverse the procedure on Michael Reider.”

  “We won’t be doing that,” Matilda replied.

  “Then please explain: was the procedure necessary to save his life?” Faust asked.

  Matilda and Delilah shared an amused glance before Matilda spoke again.

  “No,” she said.

  “Then there was no reason to have tempered him, was there?”

  “Oh, there was,” Matilda replied.

  “Yeah,” Delilah answered. “There was.”

  I took another bite of my sandwich.

  “Enlighten me?” Faust tried.

  Matilda side-glanced Delilah before looking to Faust. “The reason we tempered Michael Reider, Councilwoman, is because Michael Reider asked to be tempered.”

  “Yeah,” Delilah agreed. “He asked.”

  Hearing that, I swallowed another much-too-large bite well before it was ready to be swallowed, and it hurt quite a lot going down. I’m lucky I didn’t choke to death. Then again, that might have been my only way out. What were they saying? It couldn’t be true, could it?

  “You’re lying,” Faust said.

  Not the response I’d have gone with personally, but—

  Matilda’s quill shuddered, and Delilah’s contraption spun faster.

  I took a bite of my sandwich.

  “We understand why it might be easier for you to think so,” Matilda answered.

  Delilah nodded. “Yeah, we understand.”

  “But still you’d be mistaken,” the Writer continued. “Shall we fetch the proof?”

  Despite the disturbing news that had just been dropped on the table, I’ll be perfectly honest: I was relieved not to be the one under scrutiny at the moment. But I also wasn’t sure I believed Matilda and Delilah, and I wondered what kind of proof they really had.

  We’d have to wait to find out, though, because Faust shook her head in response.

  Now, why would she have done that, you ask? Well, I reckoned she must have known what kind of proof it was, and that whatever it was, it would be indisputable.

  “Well, if that’s everything, then.” Matilda paused to consider the platter of food Faust hadn’t touched. “Are you certain you wouldn't like a sandwich, Councilwoman?”

  It was mighty strange seeing Faust in a position where she had no power. But she kept it together, and said she would take a sandwich for the road.

  But then, just as we stopped before the front door, waiting to be let out, Matilda put her hand on my shoulder.

  “You should be so proud of this one, Councilwoman,” she said, smiling for the first time I'd ever seen. “Not only has he found, awakened, and reintegrated Zacharias, but Sebastian, too. We truly hope you’ll join us for the festivities around their foretold return. It’s only a matter of time now.”

  Maaaaaaaaaaates…

  WHY?

  …Why?