21. Chapter 21
Chapter 21
Avery
It's a whole different feeling being able to walk freely through Lilydale, doing things that other patients can't.
Even more overwhelming is the power to tell the staff you need something and them just say okay.
I mean, Damon is beside me, lingering close by, but he instructed me to handle it. They might have been reluctant to do so if I was alone, but I can't help but feel a little giddy at having a drop of authority.
Tony comes stalking back over, his stained chef apron hanging around his waist. He taps a notepad with his pen, glancing at us with mild-irritation.
"What do you want?" he asks, ready to write.
I turn my head to look at Damon. He gives a small nod, gesturing for me to speak up.
A meeting has been called for tonight and while Grey is off informing everyone, he had proudly volunteered for me to handle the food and beverages. It was a little exciting at first, but now that I need to make executive decisions, I'm tongue-tied.
All the past Cirque des Morts meetings have been filled with delicious meats, grazing foods, and desserts. I have no idea if Grey specifically requested them or just suggested a type of dish to be inspired by. As the seconds tick by, I can tell Tony is getting annoyed with my silence.
"Pizza," I finally say, blurting out the first food that springs to mind. "A few actually. Pineapple on one."
Tony starts making notes, giving me more confidence.
"And some type of antipasto platter. In fact, if we could get a variety of cheeses, that would be nice."
He looks up from his notepad, clearly thrown off by the change in menu. "Cured meats, cheeses, olives. Things like that?"
I nod, starting to lose my nerve a little. "And for dessert, peach cobbler. Do we need alcohol?" I ask Damon, hesitantly.
"Grey Goose, whatever IPAs you have left, and my usual whiskey," he answers.
Tony nods, stabbing the notepad with emphasis on his full stop. "Got it. I'll have it ready at the usual time. We'll leave it on the bench for you."
"Actually," I interject before I realize what I'm doing. "I think it would be better if you brought it straight over to the library this time."
It's clear this isn't a method of delivery that has been used before. Tony looks at me in disbelief, at my audacity to give him extra work off the clock. I expect Damon to say something to me, to tell me that's not how this works, but instead he answers calmly. "That's a good idea. We'll say eight sharp—it's earlier than usual but you'll only need to stay back an hour longer."
My head turns to follow his voice, smiling. Having him back me up means everything. I'm not trying to be difficult to the staff or make them feel inferior but ever since I was drugged, I'm terrified of people slipping things into my food or drink.
I wouldn't put it past Whittingham to sneak into the kitchen and drug our food if he got wind of the meeting. It would be the perfect opportunity—taking down the entire society in one go.
Tony sighs, partly rolling his eyes. "Fine. See you then."
He stalks off without another word, clearly pissed at us. I know that's our cue to leave so I turn, walking through the doors to the hall. Damon is quick to follow and I pause to let him catch up.
"Was that okay?" I ask nervously. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"It was good," he says. "Don't worry about him. He despises Arthur as much as we do."
"Not hard to do," I mutter. "Did you know him on the outside?"
Damon smiles. "No. But Arthur doesn't treat the hospitality staff well—or any staff to be honest. There's a few that worship him, but the rest just deal with it for the money. By comparison, we're the better enemies to have in your corner."
"Do the staff know about your connection to the place?" I ask hesitantly.
He shrugs. "Probably. I know Arthur likes to gloat from time to time. Otherwise, the staff just recognize the hold I have and fall into line. When you earn the respect, natural born followers will just obey."
I nod, glancing around at the empty hall. My eyes stop on the tables, a question popping to mind.
"I once asked Grey about the number system," I start. "He said I'd find out if I needed to know."
Damon crosses his arms coolly. "And this is your way of asking if it's time?"
"It can't be as big of a secret as the other things you've told me," I muse. "I'm just curious. It's been bugging me since day one."
He laughs, running a hand through his hair. I don't know why but I like seeing this side of him—it's carefree, almost normal . When he's in these moods, he's a whole different person—like he can be himself, not the leader and protector of this hellhole. I've come to realize that much of what you see with him is a shield.
"The number system is our own personal tally. We group people by the risk we think they are to Lilydale. Group one is the most critical—likely on Arthur's hit list. Group five is the people we are least concerned about—patients like Ashwood. We know they won't be targeted."
"Oh," I mutter, lost for words. "That's why I moved up to group one."
Damon nods. "We have people stationed around the exits. Groups leave based on the system and time of day so we can monitor them—make sure they reach their next destination safely."
"I was group three when I arrived," I point out. "The middle."
"We needed time to collect more information. The board picks patients from the court system on who they think would fit in here for their benefit. But that's all on paper. Once a patient is inside, seeing the professionals, and having their behavior monitored, we then get a sense of whether they become of interest for the experiments."
Frowning, I wrap my arms around my frame protectively. "What made me stand out?"
He looks down at me, stepping closer. "It could be that you were just a really interesting individual. When you arrived, you were naturally submissive, almost willing to do what they asked—except you put up a fight too."
"Or?"
"Or maybe you were just collateral damage," he murmurs softly. "Their way of trying to get back at us. Arthur knew how important you were to us, so he turned his attention to you."
I think back to all the punishments. The times I was made to spend in his office sorting out paperwork that never needed to be sorted, or cleaning bathrooms with dangerous chemicals. "He wanted to distract you, make you angry," I point out. "But he was wrong—I wasn't important to you then."
"You were, Avery. It's just unfortunate that they recognized it before I did."
My heart pounds in my chest. Grey's text message has been playing on my mind since yesterday. It caught me off guard at first. I re-read it at least a dozen times to make sure I was understanding it correctly. It felt like he was giving me his blessing, but that couldn't be the case. I overanalyzed the message to search for hidden meanings and alternate interpretations, but I just ended up at the same conclusion.
You can do whatever you like with Damon.
The man himself seems to be acting strange—more approachable, patient… softer. The whole situation is confusing, and now his words are intensifying that skepticism.
"I'm important to you?" I ask quietly.
"Of course you are," he answers, grabbing a strand of my black hair and playing with it between his fingers. "You're also an important member of the society."
I nod, unsure of what else to say. Never in a million years did I expect to end up here.
Shifting on my feet, my head drops as I finally lose my cool. I'm scared to look him in the eye in case he sees everything that I want to hide.
I don't know how I feel about him—about us. We've been through so much, and the only thing I am sure of is that I don't hate him like I tried to convince myself. But I don't know where to go from here.
"Come on," Damon says when I don't reply out loud, placing the strand carefully over my collarbone. "Let's go find the others."
"You did good, little killer," Grey murmurs, leaning down to my ear.
"Except there's fucking pineapple on that pizza," Theo grumbles, raising an eyebrow at me.
I laugh at him, shrugging. The three of us are standing in front of the food, waiting for the last stragglers to arrive. "Pineapple belongs on pizza, Theo. Deal with it."
He scrunches up his nose in disgust. "You're lucky I adore you."
"Aw, thanks," I taunt. "It's my trauma that makes me cute."
I nearly burst out laughing as his face falls, his eyes narrowing incredulously at me. Grey reaches across me to grab a cube of cheese, popping it into his mouth.
"Food is food," he says happily. "I'd prefer you sprawled out on the buffet, but this is good too."
Shaking my head, I look over my shoulder as I hear the library door. A few people are already sitting at the table, waiting patiently, while others are standing, talking among themselves.
Damon is leaning against the far wall, chatting with Byrone and Jillian, and when he senses me watching, his eyes snap over to me without pausing conversation. I offer a smile before checking to see if the remaining members have arrived.
"I think that's everyone," I say to Grey, nodding my head toward Leighton as he approaches the group. "Leave the cheese alone."
When he thinks I'm not looking, he grabs a few more pieces in the palm of his hand before leading us over to the table. The two men sit on either side of me as others begin to take their seats as well.
Jillian gives me a warm nod as she passes by which I return before the room falls silent. I've been told she was an important part of my rescue and I'm so thankful for her skills—it's obvious why Damon respects her and Byrone so much.
With everyone seated, Damon stands at attention at the end of the table.
"Thank you for attending on short notice," he begins. "As you are aware, things have escalated quickly."
A few people look in my direction, but I'm not bothered by it this time.
"Despite our efforts, it appears the facility was determined to recommence experimentation. I expect some form of retaliation from Arthur, but at present, he's been rather quiet."
Grey nods on Damon's right, throwing a cube of cheese into his mouth. "We're going to continue on with the usual operations, but everyone needs to be on guard."
"Where does that leave Operation Clown?" Byrone asks, his voice loud and clear.
The weird names for their missions trigger flashbacks for me, remembering the earlier days when I was in the dark about all this. Did the whole society know about the secrets below? Or were they just acting on instructions back then?
"Keep trying to decrypt the firewall," Damon directs him. "I suspect their IT people would be on high alert now. Maybe we can use their panic as leverage."
"Possibly," Byrone replies, but doesn't sound confident. "At present we're still only able to see what they are feeding us, along with the minimal control we have at turning the cameras on and off."
"Why don't we just fuck with them?" Grey offers. "Start turning them off at random times—make them think we are on the move."
Damon nods slowly. "That's not a bad idea. If we make it known that we are trying to get in, they will scramble to stop us. Eventually, they might let their guard down enough when they realize nothing is happening and we can use that opportunity to sneak in. In the meantime, work behind the scenes to ascertain what we are dealing with."
"What should we be looking out for?" Jillian asks.
"We need a camera in Arthur's office," he shoots back. "It's our blind spot."
"Can't we sneak one in?" I question.
Heads turn to look at me, but I'm focused on Damon. "Can we get more equipment and plant it?"
I suspect Damon knows what I'm hinting at. If Dr. Smith was willing to bring in cells for us, maybe we can ask him for help again.
"That's not a bad idea," Byrone agrees. "We would be able to set the system up separately from the Lilydale feed. We wouldn't have to worry about them cutting off access, and we would have flexibility to place them where we like."
Grey beams at me—like I've just solved the problem of world peace. "I think we should do it. Especially since we've destroyed their equipment downstairs, we can only assume that they are planning something. It would put us two steps ahead."
"I'll look into it," Damon answers. "The tricky part will be getting them placed without being seen. But perhaps we can turn off their access to the feeds temporarily to give us time. How long does it normally take them to get control back?"
"Four to five minutes if we make them work for it," Jillian replies. "But if we have it planned out and people are stationed nearby, we should have enough time."
"Okay. Let's put that under a new operation. Any name suggestions?" Damon asks, looking around the table.
I run through a list of words in my head, snorting. "How about Operation Magic Trick?" I offer, amused.
A few people laugh around the table, some nodding. Damon's lips twitch as he resists the urge to show emotion . "Alright, Magic Trick it is."
"Now they see us… now they don't," Grey laughs. "Hopefully Arthur doesn't bang his assistant in his office. That's one image I don't want to see."
I shrug. "They have sex tapes of other people. Maybe it's time they got a dose of their own medicine."