18
It was still dark when Grace reached the rooftop of the large building that hosted her father's apartment. The silence that surrounded her was almost tangible, and she treaded softly not to make any noise. Stepping right up to the edge so her bare toes were hovering mid-air, she took in the sight of the city stretching out ahead below her. There seemed to be no beginning and no end to it; occasionally a light would flicker in the midst of the infinite blackness, and only if one looked very closely the fine line between earth and sky became visible at all.
Grace closed her eyes as she spread her arms out to the sides to keep her balance. Knowing that she was standing right on the verge of a very deep abyss caused her heart rate to quadruple within a split second. There was no parapet, no barrier, no safety net, nothing to prevent her from taking a fall twenty-five storeys down if she slipped. Losing her grip even for a second would end in certain death, and the mere thought of it was beyond terrifying. In spite of this, she forced herself to keep her breathing normal.
'Breathe in… and out. In… and out. Don't panic. Mind over matter.'
Still, she felt the adrenaline rush along her veins, felt how her hands began to quiver and how her knees began to shake. She swallowed hard.
For a moment, she was scared to death.
Then, gradually, the fear subsided. This wasn't the first time she was up there, endangering herself on purpose. She'd done this before. It wasn't getting any less petrifying, but by doing it she kept reminding herself that she could handle it. That she had to handle it. Her legs became strong once more, and her flailing arms stilled. The lump in her throat crumbled, and the knot in her stomach dissolved. She did not move, except to inhale and exhale, slowly and deeply. Listening to her own, steady heartbeat and to her breath travelling through her body, she eventually began to smile.
She was in control again.
Opening her eyes, Grace watched as the sun ascended the sky, golden and brilliant. Gradually, the black sky evolved into a flaming red, and when the first warm rays of light touched her face, a gentle tingling sensation rushed down her spine. Raising her arms and reaching out for the radiant firmament, she couldn't help but laugh joyfully.
"Please give me the strength to get through this day," Grace whispered into the wind as it came dancing past, toying with her golden locks for a little while before moving on. Taking a last deep breath, she braced herself. Then she stepped back and turned around, heading back inside.
It was time for the masquerade to begin.
19
Partridge briefly looked up from his newspaper when Grace entered the dining room. Dropping her briefcase next to the table, she pushed a last pin into her hair as she headed straight for the kitchen to prepare herself some breakfast.
"You were up early this morning," he remarked.
"I couldn't sleep," she answered calmly as she put the kettle on. "And it was close enough to my set alarm, so I got up."
The Cleric watched her intently for a moment. "Is something troubling you?"
Returning with a bowl of plain cereal, she sat down opposite her father.
"I'm fine," she replied nonchalantly. "A little overworked, but that won't be a problem."
Partridge nodded simply as he returned his attention to the day's headlines. "You'll get used to it."
"Of course." Listlessly, she started eating.
"However," he added after a short pause, "if the insomnia persists, I suggest you visit the physician at Equilibrium and perhaps have your dose adjusted."
Grace was very tempted to laugh at the irony of it, but of course she knew better. She wasn't completely off Prozium just yet. It hadn't taken her very long to figure out that, instead of injecting the sedative, occasionally drinking about a third of her morning dose was extremely helpful on a stressful day – and she'd had plenty of those recently. Calming her nerves without completely numbing her delicate new feelings, she considered it a compromise worth making until she'd be confident and skilled enough to master the full emotional range.
Besides, the enormous workload at College wasn't the real reason for her lack of sleep and subsequent exhaustion. It was simply the price that she had to pay for leading a double life. Suddenly there was even less time to work off her duties at a normal hour, and so she'd made a habit out of turning night into day. Consequently, her mind often failed to shut down when she actually did have the opportunity to rest.
'I guess behind every successful sense offender, there's a substantial amount of coffee,' she thought to herself as she got back up when the kettle wheezed.
She'd been at Viviana's house every morning for the past two weeks, learning how to deal with her continuous emotional awakening. They would talk for as long as time permitted, discussing Viviana's own experiences, the bomb attack, and how it had pushed Grace down the path she was now walking on. There was still a hint of reluctance in her every action, and Grace suspected it was because deep down she was so very afraid of the future. It had all been so safe and crystal clear not too long ago… now she felt as though she was walking through a foggy labyrinth. Within a few days, she'd become too spirited to ever enslave herself to a faulty ideology again, but she was not nearly as convinced of her new way of life as she wanted and needed to be in order to make it truly worthwhile. She was stuck somewhere in-between. Part of her just wasn't quite willing to risk her life so she could be alive – it was such a complete paradox!
More often than not, living with emotions seemed like a Sisyphean task. For instance, they were hardly ever pure. The majority of them comprised two or more related sentiments, sometimes even contradictory ones, which made it extremely hard to 'diagnose' and channel them accordingly. And if that wasn't confusing enough already, they often caused or led to one another, back and forth. The more time Grace spent trying to figure out the big picture, the more she felt as though she didn't have a clue about anything at all. There was far too much to take in, so much more to explore than could ever be found. Just when she thought she'd gotten the hang of one particular aspect of an issue, a multitude of new questions and problems attacked her from out of nowhere. Nothing was even remotely as simple as the Tetragrammaton had made it out to be.
And it wasn't just the impenetrable big picture that aggravated her. The fact that she'd dived headlong into an ocean of previously unknown trivial complications didn't help either. Suddenly she hated her tasteless breakfast cereal and the watery, flavourless coffee. She'd get annoyed when the crowd of commuters did not walk fast enough for her liking. Queuing twenty minutes for lunch at the cafeteria bothered her. And so on and so forth. Sometimes it seemed as though her only 'gain' was frequent frustration. It wasn't quite what she'd bargained for.
Viviana had merely chuckled when she'd complained to her about it all the day before.
"Patience, dear, " she'd said. "Rome wasn't built in a day. You need to take one step at a time."
It wasn't what Grace had wanted to hear, but she'd reluctantly accepted its truth. There was a reason why so many sense offenders got caught – too many just got way ahead of themselves. At least, so she'd concluded with a hint of irony towards her impatience, she'd managed to find herself a somewhat guided tour through all the trials and tribulations.
When the doorbell broke the silence, Grace got up and answered the intercom call in the hallway.
"Your partner's here," she told her father as she returned to the dining room. Preston was early this morning. Unless the Clerics were scheduled for a pre-dawn raid, she was usually the first to leave the house.
Partridge put his newspaper down, then went to put on his coat. Buttoning it up, he looked over at her.
"Are you ready?"
Grace blinked. "What, me?"
When he nodded, she shrugged lightly. She knew she should finish her breakfast, but she wasn't particularly hungry. "Almost. Why?"
"We're going into the City this morning," the Cleric replied as he crossed the room to fetch his firearms. "You're coming with me."
It wasn't an offer, it was an order. Lucky for her, Partridge's back was turned to her as Grace's jaw dropped. She hurriedly fixed her expression before he turned back around, but inside her head, all hell broke loose.
'A ride? In the Clerics' car?'
She couldn't believe it. As far as she knew, not even Helen had ever seen the vehicle from the inside. As a matter of fact, she doubted anyone who wasn't a Cleric (or aspiring to be one) ever had. Grace instantly felt her heart rate quicken.
'Why would he want to take me with him? Except to drop me off at the Hall of Enforcement…'
She didn't have class until late morning. Didn't he know that? Maybe not. Had he noticed that she'd changed? Was he suspicious? Had she made a mistake? Was it a trap? It had to be. She felt helpless. But she knew she could not refuse.
"Let me get my coat."
20
By the time she arrived at Freedom Reading Room, Grace's mental exhaustion had reached an unknown new low. She still had no idea what had prompted her father to take her with him in the car. She constantly expected to be found out, and thus she wondered if he'd tried to elicit a reaction of some sort. No matter how many times she ran through the events of the past fortnight, regardless of how hard she tried to convince herself she hadn't made a mistake, she sincerely doubted her ability to fool Libria's highest-ranking Cleric. Her only advantage was the little time they actually spent together. But maybe he had noticed something… a triviality that had slipped her mind. He hadn't paid much attention to her after they'd left, but that didn't necessarily mean he hadn't been watching her. Wasn't it possible that he was just waiting for her to slip up?
Sitting next to John Preston in the back seat had been the most gruelling thirty-one minutes of her life. They'd briefly engaged in some small talk – yes, she'd fully recovered from the bomb attack. Yes, she was now a student at the College of Administration. Yes, she was honoured to have been chosen as future Administrator. But the hardest part had been the silence that had followed the short conversation. Grace had struggled to simultaneously avoid both excessive staring out of the window, and looking at either of the men for too long. Obviously Preston was unaware of his wife's secret, but that did not mean he couldn't pick up on her. Eventually, she'd saved herself by opening her briefcase and pulling out the instructions for her latest assignment. Thinking about which additional books she'd need and how much time to put into it had kept her preoccupied enough not to do anything stupid.
Battling the desire to noisily drop a pile of books on an empty desk near the back corner of the room, Grace almost choked on the amount of breath she had to force back down her throat to suppress a loud sigh. The most important rule at Freedom Reading Room was silence. Unnecessary disturbance of any kind was more than just strongly discouraged.
Sitting down, she reluctantly pulled out her note pad and pencil case, then opened 'Elements of Law'. It wasn't like she was capable of making up a single decent sentence right at this moment, but since she couldn't visit Viviana this morning, she could at least pretend to be doing something productive. Perhaps her brain would miraculously start working if she taunted it just long enough.
"Excuse me? Grace Partridge?"
She looked up from her notes when the proprietor stepped up to her desk, adding two more books to her collection.
"Yes?"
"You reserved these take-home copies of 'Concerning Religion' and 'About Philosophy' last week. May I see your authorisation, please?"
"Certainly," she replied flatly, sliding her student identity card across the table.
"Thank you."
Watching the man walk away, she eventually returned her attention to the massive book in front of her. How one country, especially Libria, could have so many laws was beyond her comprehension. She reckoned most of them were quite superfluous anyway.
'Sedate yourself, and obey your superiors at all times… isn't that pretty much it?'
Grace knew that sarcasm was anything but useful, and that she really needed to watch it. But it was her indulgence of choice, and occasionally she just couldn't resist.
Half an hour later, she finally gave up. How she was going to make it through five demanding classes when she couldn't even write the rough draft of a paper at her own pace was yet to be revealed, but Grace hoped her autopilot would somehow save her, again. Even when she was beyond tired, and thus incapable of thinking independently, her mind was still just efficient enough to have her pay sufficient attention to what the lessons were about. It took some effort to recapitulate the facts later and, with the help of books, fill in the gaps, but it worked. Before she'd been off the dose, she'd taken it for granted to function at all times, no matter what the circumstances. It wasn't until recently that she fully realised what a precious gift it really was.
She still had over an hour to kill until her first class. Reaching out for 'Concerning Religion', she randomly flicked through the pages, speed-reading through one paragraph or another here and there. The book did not elaborate on the different faiths as much as it defamed the very idea of religion itself, but from what she gathered from the short descriptions of each individual belief, love, tolerance and forgiveness had always been central. Grace felt incredibly sad when she recalled the reason for the outbreak of the War.
"Hatred is easy. Love, on the other hand, takes courage," Viviana had told her not long ago.
'I guess the majority of the population were cowards back then...'
Grace was so absorbed in her thoughts that she did not notice the small piece of paper stuck between two pages at first. It wasn't until she'd been staring at the note with empty eyes for a few moments that she actually became aware of it. Blinking, she frowned ever so softly as she picked it up to read what was written on it.
'Overheard conversation between Cleric Kaine and Cleric Guillory,' it said. 'Raid scheduled for 9am tomorrow, sector 9.'
Taken aback, Grace frowned. Then she read the short letter again, just to make sure her mind wasn't playing tricks on her. When she was fairly certain that she wasn't delirious, she leaned back in her chair, chewing the inside of her cheek as she kept looking at the note. She didn't know what to think of it, other than realising she must have accidentally intercepted a piece of what appeared to be Resistance correspondence. Clearly, she wasn't the intended recipient. It was obvious that the information was confidential. She wondered if it was still relevant. The paper wasn't dated, so chances were that the message was old, but what if it wasn't? Grace shuddered when it dawned on her what responsibility she possibly had. If 'tomorrow' really meant tomorrow, it was up to her whether or not those people in sector 9 were going to die.
She instantly felt tempted to just destroy the note and pretend she'd never found it. No harm done… right? But the very moment she even thought it, she felt guilty. Grace hated to admit it, but she knew she wouldn't be able to live with herself if choosing the easy way out meant signing someone else's death warrant.
'But what am I supposed to do? Is there anything I can do at all?'
There was no way she could warn those who were concerned. Even if she were allowed to pass into the Nethers by herself, her chances of actually stumbling upon someone by chance was slim. Or getting back alive if she did happen to stumble upon someone, for that matter. Neither could she prevent the raid. She couldn't have thought of a realistic way to interfere if her life had depended on it. It looked as though she was powerless.
Gradually, desolation overtook her. The only thing that was worse than cowardly opting for the easy way out was having to do so due to a lack of alternatives.
Crushing the paper as she clenched her fist, Grace stuffed it into her pocket, then started packing up. Leaving Freedom Reading Room behind, she headed across Independence Square, towards the nearest train station. It wasn't until she started searching her briefcase for her travel pass that she abruptly stopped in her tracks. With a slight delay, a crucial little detail from the subconscious part of her mind had unexpectedly crossed over to the other side.
Pulling the note back out, she hastily unfolded it. Looking at it for barely a second, her intuition was quickly confirmed.
'I know that handwriting!'
21
She'd delayed her departure for as long as possible by taking her time to pack up after her last class, and it wasn't until all the other students had left the room that Grace approached Dr David Shepherd.
"Sir, I've got a question about the paper on Machiavelli."
The professor nodded briefly. "What do you not understand?"
Dropping her copy of 'The Prince' on the desk between them, Grace opened it on page 407.
"I'm not sure how to interpret this particular paragraph," she stated calmly, pointing at the note she'd glued in at the bottom of the page.
They exchanged a look across the table, and while his countenance did not give him away for even a split second, Grace could tell from the expression in his eyes that Shepherd knew exactly what she was implying. More so, she almost felt as though he'd been expecting her.
"I've got another class now," he told her as he picked up his briefcase. "Meet me outside room 76 in an hour, then I'll explain it to you."
Watching him as he headed for the door, Grace put the book back in her bag.
'It better be good.'
22
"This is a polygraph. It detects fluctuation of –"
"I know."
Making himself as comfortable as one could possibly be on a plain wooden chair, Jurgen shrugged lightly at the rather brusque interruption.
"Let's get started then."
"Yes. Let's."
Grace didn't care if she was rude. Calm as she was on the outside, she was extremely upset. It had only been a few minutes ago that she'd found out she'd been set up. It didn't matter to her that she'd started doubting Librian values even before she'd been off the dose, which might eventually have led to ceasing her intervals. What bothered her was the fact that she'd been manipulated and played against her will. She also had no idea how she'd gotten to this hidden labyrinth beneath the city because she'd been blindfolded. And now she was supposed to bare her emotions in front of complete strangers.
"Your father," Jurgen said, looking at her intently. "You're afraid of being discovered."
The polygraph needle shivered just a little bit, but there was no significant change on the diagram. Grace felt strangely proud. Maybe she wasn't as bad at mastering the passions as she'd thought she was.
"Aren't we all?" she retorted.
Jurgen frowned. Her crisp diction and the cool undertone in her voice were a little too reminiscent of a Cleric for his liking. He exchanged a quick look with Shepherd, who shook his head, confused. Had they made a terrible mistake?
"You've been working late for weeks," he continued. "The pressure of keeping up standards when leading a double life… that must be exhausting."
Again, the variation on the polygraph was minimal. Grace chuckled dryly.
"Coffee helps."
Jurgen was a little worried at first. This wasn't quite going as planned. It took him a moment to pick up the underlying humour of her reply. Perhaps they weren't as wrong as he'd briefly thought.
"Five weeks ago, you were the victim of a bomb attack. You survived, but your mother died."
It was a complete shock surprise for Grace when she unexpectedly felt cold. She'd never really thought about her mother's fate. A frosty shiver shot down her spine, and she shuddered. At the same time, there was a sudden sharp pain in her chest, around where her heart was. It was sheer agony, and she bit her bottom lip hard in an attempt to stop her eyes from watering. But it was useless. A treacherous tear slowly made its way down her cheek.
This time, the polygraph did register considerable highs and lows.
Jurgen let out a silent sigh of relief. He secretly regretted to have caused the obviously genuine hurt on the girl's face, but there just was no other way to test potential new members. They had to be sure.
"I've got a job for you," he told Mary as he got up. Comforting people had never been a strength of his.
Switching off the machine and undoing the various cords that had been attached to Grace, Mary gently placed a hand on the young woman's shoulder, the other one taking one of hers.
"Come with me," she coaxed her, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
Grace did not argue or fight. Somehow she managed to put one foot in front of the other, until they got to a quiet corner. There, Mary sat her down in an old armchair.
"D'ya wanna talk 'bout it?" she asked softly.
Grace shook her head as she pulled her knees up to her chin and wrapped her arms around her legs. The tears just kept coming. Part of her failed to understand why the memory of the bombings suddenly struck her like this. She'd talked to Viviana about the attack before. It took her a little while to realise that she'd never mentioned Helen. Not once. It was almost as though she'd never existed. Grace recalled walking to the station with her, and looking for her in the chaos of the aftermath, but the memories were already blurry and faded, as though it wasn't worth remembering.
'I should be ashamed of myself.'
"She was sitting right next to me, you know," she suddenly whispered, unable to resist the urge to voice her pain. "And she got blown to pieces, while I got away with barely a scratch… it just doesn't seem fair."
Mary felt a slightly painful pull in her chest. She'd never seen such sadness and guilt all at once. Taking a seat on the chair's armrest, she tenderly rubbed the girl's back.
"Don't beat yourself up for surviving," she said soothingly. "I'm sure that's the last thing your mother would want."
Grace sighed loudly. Mary was probably right, but that didn't make her feel much better. But she knew that she had to pull herself out of this black hole. She couldn't stay here forever. Wiping the tears away with the back of her hand, she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.
"I could sure use some Prozium," she mumbled half-jokingly.
Mary grinned. "Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back."
Puzzled, Grace watched her disappear through a door further down the main corridor, only to return a few moments later with two glasses and a bottle of amber liquid.
"This'll boost your mood," Mary announced as she handed her one glass.
"What is it?" Grace inquired sceptically.
"Scotch," she replied cheerfully. "Ten times better than Prozium, if consumed in adequate amounts."
Taking a small sip of the drink, Grace barely managed to avoid spitting it right back out. She pulled a face. "Are you sure?"
"Yep. Keep drinking."
Furrowing her brows, Grace mentally counted to three before draining the glass in one gulp. The next moment, she was coughing and gasping for air because she felt as though her throat was on fire. Not much later, there was a weird tingling in her stomach that she was completely unfamiliar with. Not to mention a slight light-headedness.
"More?"
"No, thanks. I think I'll be okay."
Mary chuckled. "Told ya. So, you're not mad at me anymore about the fakes?"
Grace sighed inwardly as she traced the rim of the glass with her index finger. "You can't just interfere with people's lives like that."
"What d'you suggest I should've done? Ask you for permission first?"
"Uhm…"
Unable to come up with a good answer, Grace shrugged. "I don't know. It's just… being off the dose is hard enough. Joining the resistance doesn't exactly simplify things. What do you want from me, anyway?"
"Don't worry about all that just yet," Mary replied reassuringly. "Once you've settled in, we'll see how you can be of use. Nobody will force you to do anything you're not comfortable with."
"Alright."
Hesitating for a moment, she eventually changed her mind and held her glass out to Mary for a refill.
"The guy who conducted the bomb attack," she eventually asked as she took another sip. "Is he here?"
"Julian?" Mary nodded. "Why?"
Staring down at her hands, Grace held her breath for a moment, then released it slowly. She felt how her heart rate increased almost instantly. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea right then and there, but she couldn't help it. There were questions spinning around in her head that needed to be answered.
"I'd like to speak to him."
23
Three hours after she'd gone to bed, Grace still couldn't sleep. It was long past midnight, but she couldn't stop rolling over, again and again. Her mind was in overdrive. Her only comfort was the fact that the next day was her scheduled rest day, so at least she did not have to worry about getting up in the morning… within reason.
It was the conversation she'd had with Julian Dawes around which most of her thoughts revolved. She'd felt such anger at first, fuelled by the hurt inside her, which she hadn't known, existed. If it hadn't been for Mary and Jurgen, Grace was fairly certain she would have punched him in the face as a hello.
"Did you really think it would change anything?"
- "I didn't necessarily want it to change anything. I just wanted to bring the blood spilling back to where it came from."
It had been his brutal honesty, combined with sincere regret, that had eventually softened her heart a little. He'd asked her for forgiveness, and she'd told him she wasn't quite ready for that yet.
Finally, Grace got up. She wasn't going to find some peace anytime soon. Tiptoeing along the dark hallway, she crossed the living-room and entered the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water. Leaning against the counter, she let out a soft sigh as she sipped her drink.
'What a day!…'
A thud from her father's bedroom startled her. Frowning softly, she put the glass into the sink before making her way back to see what had caused the noise. She knew that Errol Partridge wasn't the kind to trip or accidentally knock things over. Besides, it was the middle of the night. Weren't people supposed to be sleeping? Something about that sound was a bit odd, and she blamed her newfound instincts for reacting this way.
"Errol?" she whispered as she quietly pushed his bedroom door open. There was no answer, and once her eyes had gotten fully used to the dark, she saw that he was sound asleep.
Then she spotted the broken bedside lamp on the floor.
'What…?'
Grace jumped when Partridge suddenly growled, feeling the blood freeze in her veins. It took her a moment to realise that he wasn't talking to her but mumbling something in his sleep. She couldn't make out what it was until he started tossing and turning frantically in his bed, eventually coming to lie on his back, shaking.
When she did, her eyes widened in shock.
"It's not… safe… he's… still out there… no… no, no… don't take the train, Gracie…"