Feargus

  It was a rough job getting out of bed the next morning, and judging by the way the Councilwoman looked when she met me outside my room, it was a mutual struggle. She greeted me with a grunt, I greeted her with a grunt, and we made our way out of the Mount Inn and around the ramps with nothing more than a bit of casual conversation—at first.

  I still didn’t know what she planned to do about Michael.

  As we made our way around the city, the ramps were only now starting to fill up with the daytime people who were dressed colourfully, as always. Each and every one stopped us along the way to say, “Fair morning.” Well, some of them were about to until Faust beat them to it. “Yes, yes, fair morning,” she’d say, and then we’d move along.

  “I considered seeing The Trio myself,” she said, “when Theodore died.”

  I knew Theodore was Faust’s late partner. They were bound long before she’d taken over for her mother, and they had one daughter together later in life. It was before my time, before I was even born, but it wasn’t a secret they’d been madly in love. Their daughter, Thea, wasn’t much older than we were, and she worked in her mother’s office.

  “No kidding," I answered. "Why didn’t you?”

  “Because Theo believed in me, and he believed me. That nothing was as it seemed, and that what we were doing, as an institution, was wrong. To forget him, even if only the pain of his loss, would be to forget everything we’d endured together—to forget why it was painful. All the things that only deepened our love. It would have certainly made things easier for me, but it would have been a lie—something we’d vowed never to do to one another.”

  “I bet he was great,” I said. “I’m sorry I never got the chance to meet him.”

  “He would have found you interesting.”

  I wasn't sure, but it felt like a compliment. “So, what does this mean for us? Michael’s decision.”

  “It changes nothing for now, because I don’t intend to report it.”

  “Look at us—two peas in a pod.”

  Faust smiled wryly. “Something like that.”

  It was quiet while we made our way through one of the residential districts. After a few minutes, I worked up the nerve to ask. “Does it still hurt?”

  Faust gave me a gentle pat on the back before answering, “Every day.”

  Well, that wasn’t encouraging, was it? But I’d have to think about it later, because we stopped in front of the door with the apple on the sign and the name “Reider” written across with a practised hand. Avis painted all the signs around town, and she touched each of them up like clockwork every spring.

  Faust knocked on the door.

  Ten, twelve, fifteen and a half seconds before a brown haired woman answered. She was dressed plainly inside the house, not colourfully like those outside, and she smiled widely when she saw the Councilwoman. She brushed her hands off on her apron, which were covered in flour.

  “What a wonderful surprise,” she said. “I’ve just taken a fresh pie out of the oven. Will you join us for a time, Councilwoman?”

  I maintained an idle smile.

  “Please, if that’s all right with you? There are a few things I’d like to discuss.”

  “Of course!” Mrs. Reider stepped aside, letting us in. “And who’s this?”

  Faust gestured to me.

  “Jack Finnegan,” I said. “And it’s such a pleasure to meet you, I’m one of—”

  “Officer Finnegan here is one of the most valuable members of my personal security team.”

  As you know, I wasn't that, but Mrs. Reider may as well have been told she was meeting Amalia herself. Her jaw dropped and her voice quivered with excitement when she called three names over her shoulder. Michael’s father, who I quickly learned was also called Michael, and Michael’s two younger siblings: Matthew and Miriam. If nothing else, Avis certainly did make sure Partisans were treated well, and that our service was viewed in a favourable light.

  Michael had already left for his patrol shift that morning, so the rest of us gathered around the kitchen table for some breakfast pie. Apple, of course. Michael’s two siblings couldn’t take their eyes off me, and I loved kids, so I made sure to make them both feel as important as they thought I was. Miriam insisted she sit beside me while we ate.

  Apple pie was my favourite, and that one was really good. You can trust me on the matter, because at that point in my life, I considered myself something of a pie connoisseur.

  We kept the conversation casual over breakfast, and judging by the way Faust had stepped in earlier, I took it to mean she didn’t want me mentioning that I knew Michael, so I didn’t. When we’d all finished eating, I got the impression Faust wanted to speak with Mr. and Mrs. Reider alone, so I wrangled the kids. For the record, Matthew and Miriam were eight and ten respectively.

  First thing, after getting permission from the Reiders, I cleared a space in the living room, having had to move the couch to make room for what I was planning.

  “All right, mates,” I said. “You ever sit on your leg funny, or have your foot fall asleep on you just out of nowhere?”

  “Yeah!” Matthew said.

  “Ugh, I hate that,” Miriam added. “Well, I mean, I kind of like the part where I can’t feel my foot anymore, but then it hurts so much. I really don’t like that.”

  I chuckled and nodded in accordance. “Awful, isn’t it? So, what do you do if your foot’s asleep and you suddenly need a snack?”

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “Hop on the other foot!” Matthew suggested with a demonstration.

  “That’s a brilliant idea,” I agreed. “But what if both feet are asleep? How are you gonna get your snack then?”

  “Umm—I’d order Matty to go get it for me.”

  “What if Matty’s not home? Or what if Miriam’s not home?”

  “I guess we’d have to wait to get our snack,” Matthew decided.

  “Aye, you could wait, or—” I sat on the couch, bent over, and planted a hand down on the ground, followed by the other. I then sprung myself upright, well—if upright meant upside down standing on my hands. The crowd of two went mental.

  Mr. and Mrs. Reider looked over with a smile. Faust looked sad again. I was trying to not listen in on their conversation, but also I was absolutely listening in on their conversation. So far, they were talking about how happy they were to have Michael home.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” Matthew said. “But now let’s see you walk. I bet you can’t.”

  “I bet he can,” Miriam challenged.

  “I bet he can, too,” Faust called over from the table.

  The woman had my back in the most unexpected ways, I’d give her that. Obviously, I could walk on my hands, and once I’d finished proving as much, the kids insisted I teach them because by the time they got to the kitchen, they were sure the painful tingles would be gone.

  “Exactly, my mates. Exactly. Now, I won’t lie: it’s gonna take some practise, but you’re both very lucky because you have each other. Everybody knows you can only learn to walk on your hands with your sibling. I learned with my sister, too.”

  All this and I was still upside down, so I switched to my feet and asked which one wanted to go first. When they couldn’t decide, we flipped a coin. Miriam won.

  While I helped the siblings learn to stand on their hands, and help each other learn to stand on their hands, I listened in on what was going on over at the kitchen table.

  “—putting you in a difficult position,” Faust said. “The choice will ultimately be up to Michael, but only if you both agree with asking him at all. You can say no.”

  Mrs. Reider looked between her husband and Faust. “He’s only just come home to us, and with Marta gone on her own special mission for Palisade, well—”

  Her own special mission for Palisade? I reckoned The Trio had something to do with that fun little narrative, considering Marta had just up and disappeared when she followed Rhian out of the keyhole in the mountain and never returned.

  “—just think, love, it would be a lot less cramped, and Miriam and Matthew could have their own rooms for a while,” Mr. Reider suggested.

  While the Reiders considered the proposition, which was ultimately that Faust needed Michael for a special mission of his own, I carried on playing with the kids. I held their feet while they both learned how it felt standing on their hands, and I showed them how to help each other do the same, as well as how to dismount safely together.

  Over at the table, the Reiders admitted they had some financial concerns, though I could tell it wasn’t easy for them to say, and they immediately followed it up with a positive refrain. Faust told them they didn’t have to worry, that the family would get paid in Michael’s absence, and that he’d be given unconditional permissions to enter and leave the city.

  So, it wouldn’t be wrong to say that Faust was buying the Reiders' cooperation. But it also wouldn’t be wrong to say that Faust was genuinely trying to compensate. The reality is, we needed Michael, mates. Whether it was this Michael, that Michael, it was all the same because he still remembered his training, and he still had the same mind, and the same heart, and without him, our chain was missing an important link. There was no other Michael. Faust knew that, and Jack Finnegan knew that, too.

  Feargus Finlay, though? Feargus Finlay, feeling the way Feargus Finlay was feeling in those days, wanted to leave Michael home where he was safe and happy.

  The conversation at the table wrapped, and before leaving, I taught the kids the secret Palisade handshake that I made up on the spot.

  By the time we left the Reiders', people were saying, “Fair afternoon,” and we were on our way to find Michael when we were stopped by one of the Iron Hand, not far from the headquarters itself. He said there was a situation inside that called for Faust’s immediate attention, and because that was a terrible summary, she asked him to clarify.

  “Two Partisans showed up at the gates. One of them snatched my horn right out of my hand, and that same one just so happened to be the suspect in the Marta Reider disappearance. She cleared that up with these, though.”

  The guard passed Faust the letters from Marta. Faust didn’t read them.

  I swallowed back a laugh. Hi, Rhi-rhi.

  “The other one claims she’s a guide for the visually impaired,” the guard continued. “That one had permissions though. Andrei Strauss. I was on my way to inform you.”

  “Very good,” Faust said. “Where are they now?”

  Well, they were in the Commander’s office, of course, so we made our way inside, and Faust sent everybody home for the day.

  When everyone was cleared out, she had me wait, out of sight, outside the room.

  As you ought to know, that’s when Faust decided to tell Rhian and Strauss that she, Kelly, and Hall were fronting a rebellion against Palisade on the inside, and that they were being tested as the ones to lead the initiative on the outside.

  Mates, I had my ear pressed so far up against that door.

  Faust went on to explain the the Trio, the experiment in Leberecht as she understood it, the Six, or what she knew about the Six, which was only that they were powerful Partisan/Anima hybrids, and that it was our job to figure out how to destroy them. Rhian was so rightfully ticked off, at one point she said, "Fuck you, Faust," and threatened to assassinate her. She meant it, too. And Strauss, well—he was still Strauss, so he was calm, and he asked some good questions. And if I’m honest, I’d swear I heard relief in his tone. Maybe because things were finally making sense, or maybe because there was an end to it all in sight. Probably both.

  Strauss asked so many good questions, including the one where he asked how Faust knew about something she shouldn’t have known about. Something I knew about and had told her about, and had learned about while we were in the silver cage.

  Faust didn't answer his question, and I pulled my head away from the door, moving out of sight when I heard her footsteps approaching.

  When she opened the door, she waved me in.

  It had to happen some time, right?

  I stepped inside and gave them both a wave.

  Rhian rolled her eyes.

  Strauss couldn’t see, so, I said, “Sorry, mate.”

  And he said, “I should have known.”

  Neither of them were surprised to find out I wasn’t dead, since both of them knew I wasn’t dead, but either Faust didn’t notice or didn’t care. I didn’t know anymore, nor did I particularly care anymore, myself. It was so good to see the both of them, even if my sister was grumpy as ever, and when I sat down on the corner of the desk, she flicked my knee to prove the point.

  Actually, she did it three times to make sure it hurt. It did—I mean, just a little.

  

  An Interview With Rhian Sinclair:

  “Gus, I flicked you twice.”

  “It was three times.”

  “Two.”

  “Three.”

  “Two.”

  “Rhian, you know there were witnesses, right?”

  “Aye, one's blind, and the other's not here. Also, two.”

  “Three.”

  “Two.”

  “Two.”

  “Gus, I’m glad we finally agree.”

  “We don’t. I was just trying to trick you into saying three.”