Renegade (9 page)

I shake my head. “So … what would I do? To stop it?”

He taps his fingers on his knees. “How often do you go to the Therapist?”

“Only when Mother feels I should have someone to talk to. It’s supposed to be every day but…” I touch the pendant again. “Lately, she hasn’t been enforcing it.”

“Why?”

“I-I don’t know.” I glance up at him. “I can’t always remember being at his office or anything directly before or after, but it’s been less and less lately.”

“So, she only says you need to see the Therapist at certain times. Interesting. Probably has something to do with your behavior or something you do, then.” His fingers stop tapping and he stares into space. “I’ll bet it’s whenever they see something they don’t want to, and then they fix it.” His eyes slash to mine. “Just don’t let on that things are different. We can’t let them Condition you anymore.”

“Why do you care?”

He doesn’t answer right away.

“You think it’ll help you escape.” It’s not a question. I already know the answer.

He blinks and his eyes give away how surprised he is that I guessed the truth, before he stares at his legs.

I smile at him. “It’s all right. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. If I came from where you came from, I probably wouldn’t trust anyone, either.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asks.

“The Surface.” I point up. “All that war, and fighting … I don’t know how you could trust anyone.”

“As opposed to here, you mean.”

I nod.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve gotten a real warm welcome here.”

“I admit you’ve gotten a bad first impression. The turret killing your friend, and being locked up here, but—”

He cuts me off. “What I find stranger than that is the fact that you
do
trust anyone living down here.”

“You’re lucky I do.” I give him a sharp look.

“Oh?”

“Because what I
should
do is get all the information I can from you, then turn you over to the Enforcers.”

He licks his lips, meeting my gaze even though I can tell he’s nervous. “But you’re not going to do that.”

“No, I’m not.”

“And why not?”

Now I’m the one who has to look away. I can’t tell him that he makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. “Because I believe you when you say the Surface isn’t everything I’ve been told, just as you don’t really know what it’s like in Elysium. And I believe you when you say you just want to go home to take care of your family. I understand duty. I may not trust my memory all the time, but I
do
trust my instincts. And my instincts tell me you need my help.”

He flinches, just barely, but enough that I know he’s still wary of me. “Nothing that’s happened to me down here could be considered normal,” he says, “but you might be the strangest thing of all.”

“Strange?” I try to sound indignant, but I can’t deny the shiver spilling down my back at the look in his eyes. He’s not afraid anymore, not completely, but the same intensity is in those remarkable gray eyes.

“Fascinating,” he says.

The shivers race to my fingertips, and I curl my hands into my skirt.

“So … you trust me?”

His eyes narrow a tiny bit. “Yes. I have nothing to lose, do I?”

“I suppose not.”

“You do, though, don’t you?”

I lift one shoulder. “Not if we do this carefully.”

The corner of his mouth pulls up to a wry smile. “You are definitely fascinating, Evelyn.”

Our eyes meet and something passes between us. Something I’ve never felt before, but it’s familiar all the same. Then I blush and we look away from each other. My gaze meets the floor and it’s quiet while both of us decide what to say next.

“So,” he finally says, breaking the uncomfortable silence, “you aren’t allowed to touch someone unless you’re Coupled?”

I don’t look away from the pitted floor. “Yes.”

“Bummer.”

I look up, questioning.

“I want to touch you, but I don’t want you to freak out on me,” he explains. “On the Surface, we’d usually do a handshake now.”

My eyes widen, and I glance over my shoulder. The Guards aren’t paying attention, but I’m unsure of the camera. Though, from its angle and my position to him, I’m fairly certain the space between us is not visible.

Carefully I slide my hand along the ground until it just touches his. He glances down and then back up. He moves his gaze to the camera, then the Guards before touching the tips of his fingers to mine.

It’s barely a touch at all, but my heart skips a beat. I’ve never felt like this before. It’s strange. Exciting. Terrifying. Fascinating. I have to fight to keep my hand where it is.

He grins. “So, Evelyn—”

“Evie,” I say quickly. Breathlessly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Evie. Please. Everyone else calls me Evelyn, but … I like Evie.”

“Evie.” He repeats it, emphasizing the short “e” sound, and runs his thumb over my fingertips. “I like Evie, too. It suits you.”

I shiver at the tingles in my fingertips and we smile at each other, but then the doors open again. I panic, thinking Mother has seen him touching me and sent an Enforcer. I slide my hand away in a move I hope isn’t noticeable and stand when I see a young Guard waiting for me.

“Miss Evelyn,” he says, with a slight bow. “Mother has requested your presence. She has asked me to escort you.”

My heart drops. She knows.

“Yes, of course.” I turn to Gavin. “I probably won’t be returning tonight. It would be in your best interests to think about cooperating with me and answering my questions.”

At first he narrows his eyes, but I continue to stare at him, not even daring to blink, and hope he understands what I am telling him and acts like nothing has changed.

“I’ll … consider it,” he says after a moment.

I feel awful for leaving him here. Alone. It really is a dismal place and the Guards already don’t like him. I hope he won’t be any more damaged tomorrow.

If
Mother lets me return tomorrow. Who knows what the camera has caught. Not to mention I can’t remember anything from the beginning of our conversation.

To my surprise,
only
the young Guard escorts me from the Detainment Center. The rest of my Guards seem to have been dismissed. But given what Gavin just told me, and assuming he’s right, it’s probably not something I should question.

Lost in my thoughts, I walk ahead of the Guard. Up the slippery stairs, to my left and five hundred meters over the concrete floors, past the lonely Guard, then through the tube to the grand entrance to the Palace Wing, then straight to the golden elevators and up two levels, and finally down the marble halls, which lead to Mother’s sitting room. She is working on her computer. The blue light from the holographic display shines on her face, but the sidewall of her alcove blocks the view of what she’s working on.

She turns and smiles, then grimaces when she sees me. “Evelyn. You are a filthy mess. Kindly go to your rooms and prepare for the evening meal. Father and I wish to discuss something of great importance with you.”

“Yes, Mother.” I curtsey and turn to leave for my private quarters. The Guard stays behind with Mother at her request. Though that unnerves me, I’m grateful for a few minutes of solitude.

After washing, I change into one of my favorite dresses—a red taffeta dress with a fitted bodice, open back, and a semi-full skirt. Then I reapply my makeup: just a dash of rose dust on my cheeks, a candy red on my lips, and a darkening of my eyes.

The combination of the dress and makeup makes me feel pretty, but also powerful. A tiny bit rebellious. It shows a bit more skin than Mother will approve of, but not enough that she’ll do anything about it.

The perfume bottles in front of me on the vanity call to me—all different colors and shapes of bottles. Some have intricate and delicate metal work, others are squat and somewhat ugly. I frown at them. Why do I have so many? I don’t wear perfumes; my flowers coat me in my favorite fragrance.

Something tells me it is important.

I run my fingers over the pendant, and the image of a beautiful bottle floats into my mind’s eye.

I open my eyes and find the bottle in the collection. Curious, I remove the stopper and lift it to my nose. The scent wafts up to me, and the memory of me sitting by the fountain in the Square filters into my mind.

I stared at the concrete floor, feeling a little lost. I didn’t know what was going to happen, but I knew no one trusted me. I had no friends, and Mother thought I was a traitor. She’d forbidden any of the others to even look at me while she decided what to do with me.

I couldn’t remember anything. Not even what happened to traitors. There was a niggling feeling that I
should
know, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t remember.

The man I now called Father sat next to me. He’d been one of the top scientists. He’d been the one that developed the pressure nanos before he’d Coupled with Mother.

At first he said nothing, but finally, he said, “I convinced her,” so quietly I almost didn’t hear him.

I looked over at him. “I’m sorry?”

He smiled sadly down at me. “I convinced her you were special. She’s making you ours … hers, really. But I’ll always be here for you, too.”

I blinked. I didn’t understand.

He patted my hand. “You won’t, Evie,” he said as if he could read my mind. “But don’t worry. You can trust me. Always.” He glanced around while I tried to wrap my eleven-year-old mind around what he was trying to tell me.

Then he pulled open his sport coat and pulled a beautiful little perfume bottle out of the pocket. “Here,” he said, “take this.”

I took it and immediately lifted the stopper to my nose.

He smiled at me. “And now, you’ll always remember what you need to.” He touched my necklace and his smile was wistful. “The pendant to recover what is lost. The fragrances to fill the empty spaces. It’s all we can give you now.”

Pain throbs in my temples, my fingers gripping tightly on the bottle’s cap. I remember. Father. I close my eyes and mentally thank him for giving me my memories. I guess I should be surprised, but I’m not.

I breathe deeply, the fragrance of the bottle overpowering my senses, filling me with the memory. It washes away the pain, and I look again at the bottles with a calculating eye. So many memories. So much lost.

So much to regain … again.

Unless they Condition me again. Take them all away. Like Gavin said.

My heart hardens. Not this time. Not. This. Time.

The door to my room opens and a Maid walks in.

“Miss, Mother is expecting you,” the Maid says, politely averting her gaze to just over my shoulder.

I replace the stopper on the bottle and sweep past her, my shoes clicking on the floors as I make my way to the dining room. As in the rest of the Palace Wing, the floors and walls are made of marble, and the lighting comes from crystal sconces set every five or so meters along the wall.

I pause at the door. This
must
be important. They’re using the good china. The silver sparkles in the light of the crystal chandelier hanging above the marble table. Father is already there. To my surprise, so is the young Guard. He sits next to Mother and she is smiling at something he is saying, but Father seems upset with something. His customary smile is replaced with a scowl.

Cold pours over me. It has to be about what happened in the cell. Why else would the Guard be here? I glance around the room in confusion. There are no other Guards or Enforcers.

What is going on?

Mother glances over. “Evelyn. You are late.”

The Guard and Father stand as I make my way over to them. “I apologize, Mother. I wanted to take my time to look my best.”

She purses her lips and Father chuckles. “No need to apologize, Evelyn. A woman is never late. Isn’t that what you are always telling me, my dear?” he adds to Mother, a little sparkle in his eyes.

Mother nods and gestures for me to take the seat next to the Guard, who waits for me to sit before taking his. Father does the same and, the minute he does, the Servants are placing food and drinks all over the table, more than we could possibly eat. Caviar and crackers. Bean salad. Marinated tempeh with red peppers and broccoli. And other things that I can’t name. I immediately think of Gavin practically starving in his cell, and try to formulate a plan on how to get him more food.

The Guard and Mother talk throughout dinner and don’t seem to even notice I’m there. But every once in a while, the Guard includes me in the conversation. Father watches me for a while and I give him a brief smile and touch a finger to the pendant. He takes a deep breath and smiles back. I wonder if I should ask him for help with Gavin. But his smile falls when he looks at the Guard, which makes me uneasy. They have not told me the purpose of this formal dinner yet. It can’t be anything good. But while the Guard has everyone distracted, I’m able to start secreting as much nonperishable food as I can into my handbag. When I’ve stuffed as much food as I can into it, I place it back by my feet and then sit up.

Everyone is staring at me.

Uh-oh. I pat a napkin to my face, though I haven’t eaten anything. “Is there something on my face?”

Mother smiles at me. “No. I asked you how you felt.”

“About what?”

Father lets out an exasperated huff of breath, but Mother only keeps smiling. There’s a ferocity to it now. Like a cat playing with a mouse.

“Poor, ditzy girl,” she says. “The conversation was too much for you, wasn’t it?”

The Guard stiffens, but obviously knows better than to say anything. White, hot anger rushes through me in a bolt. Mother knows exactly why I can’t concentrate. She makes sure of it, and still she lets everyone think I’m stupid. I wonder how many times has she said things like that that I can’t even remember. My nails dig into my palms out of sight in my lap, but above the table, I only smile as if the insult has passed over my head. “Yes, Mother. I’m afraid I started to daydream about my gardens. They’re so pretty at this time of year.”