Chapter 14 - Wounds Will Heal
Evelyn
“I need you to leave as soon as possible,” I beg Galen.
“Don’t you think we’ve been spotted already? Roden is probably looking at us right now,” Galen huffs a laugh.
“Sarcasm won’t help us. And put that hand down. Sometimes you look more like…Never mind…” I say, glancing over my shoulder as I pace in front of him, massaging my right temple.
“I’m just waving a virtual white flag. Are we all not on the same side?” He shrugs quickly, still holding July in his arms.
It hurts to see him this protective, as if July may turn to dust if anyone else but him touches her.
But I know he is right. Surely Roden is checking our every move, and I can’t start an argument over who should carry July, risking the impression that I’m too involved.
“Fine. I’ll make something up but don’t linger around here too long. Just get changed and go. You know how to move around HQ,” I concede.
I should’ve noticed the signs years ago, but trying to break their bond now is impossible, if not dangerous.
The way he studies July’s face, checking the rhythm of her breath. The way his thumb gently strikes her temple while his hand cradles her head…
“Please, lead on,” Galen snaps when he notices I’m staring.
The entrance hall greets us with its usual scent of nothingness. Despite having walked on its marble floors hundreds of times, I still admire its perfection, so different from the building’s decaying facade.
This place is so quiet and silent, I should be able to hear myself and Galen breathing, maybe even our heartbeats. Yet, I don’t even notice Galen approaching from my right, his footsteps so light despite carrying his and July’s weight.
“Are you sure?” His voice should echo from one end of the hall to the other, but the rules of sound don’t apply here.
“Certain. I’ll go meet the Chapter and take care of this matter.” I stretch my arms towards him despite the look of doubt on his young face.
“Where will you take her?” He gingerly lowers July’s body, letting her tiptoes touch the floor, her knees bending like those of a puppet with loose strings.
“He wants to see her in the screens room.” I realise my mistake when it’s already too late to take it back.
“Why?” Galen cocks his head and moves a step back, taking July with him.
“I don’t know, I swear. I guess Roden is reassessing the situation.” I scan the room, leaning forward and whispering, “We all are...”
Galen studies my face, sighs and eventually offers me July as if giving me a rare and fragile piece of porcelain. “That can only mean Roden will tell her the truth this time.” Not a question.
“He didn’t confirm, but it may be inevitable. He knows this is his last chance.” I take July in my arms, nodding a wordless thank you. “Now, go. I’ll meet you back in my office when it’s all done.”
He nods, extending one hand and hovering it over July’s face before he turns his back and silently walks away with his head bowed, speaking volumes of pain and worry.
But wounds will heal somehow if we play this right.
The lift to the screens room is strategically hidden behind a tall portrait on the left side of the hall. It depicts an idyllic scene of Libera with students playing in its gardens, surrounded by flowers that have never really grown on the island.
When I touch my fingertips to the frame, it slides to one side, as if responding to my unspoken request, revealing the creation of a genius mind.
A lift, that is, seamlessly built into the wall, making it impossible to notice when closed.
Like the frame, it also seems to listen to my prayer, Let me in and be done with this, as it opens under my touch.
July is no longer the little girl I brought to Libera; her trained muscles twitch and quiver in my hold.
As much as I would like, I can’t hold her up any longer.
Once in the lift, I gently prop her against one side and help her body slowly slide down, like an abandoned doll, in the corner of the lift.
I’m not a stupid piece of stuffed rag, her voice complains in my head.
The lift begins descending almost immediately. Although there's no apparent source of artificial light inside, it remains bright, as if some of the illumination from the hall is trapped in here with us.
“Welcome, Evelyn Popplewish,” a metallic voice greets me. I don't react; I've heard that voice so many times before. “Which level?”
“To the screens,” I quickly answer.
“Access granted.”
The descent is smooth, as if the lift is gliding through oil. It’s a pity that great minds like the one behind this structure can no longer set foot in Libera.
When greatness destroys greatness, someone said once, but my time for reminiscing ends as the lift comes to a soft halt as if it’s landed on a pile of pillows, and its door opens at the most eerie and dreadful room of the entire island.
I pick July up, relieved to hear her breathing regularly when I help her out of the lift.
Today, the room feels different. Not that I enjoy spending any time down here, but the comforting melody of a piano masterfully played warms up the space and softens the dull grey of the walls.
Until Roden’s voice clashes with the notes, “I decided to make it more homey. Isn’t this what the students like to say?” Sitting at the piano with his back to me, he sways left to right, running his hands over the black and white keys.
I adjust July's body when one of her arms slides down mine, and her head, partially covered by her hair, rests against my shoulder.
“Whatever pleases you,” I reply from the opposite side of the room.
Roden continues to play and asks, “Do you know this piece? It was composed ages ago by a Horigean musician, a visionary, I’d rather say. It’s about white clouds. Inspiring, isn’t it?”
The notes dim and fade until they are nothing but indistinct sounds among the many disembodied voices that constantly fill the room.
“It is certainly beautiful,” I say as I move in his direction, trying to sound relaxed.
I have a feeling he can see me despite his position.
Besides, not even the Silent End moves undetected in his presence, and his senses can always tell if someone is walking towards him as a humble ally or hiding a knife behind their back, to use at the right moment against him.
“I believe you have something for me, my child?” Without notice, he stands tall, his spine straight as if age got bored of him in his thirties and forgot he was meant to grow old.
“Someone—yes. She is still unconscious, I’m afraid—” I chew the inside of my cheek to silence any possible bitter remark.
“I can take it from here, my sweet Evelyn. You’re free to go.” There is nothing paternal in his voice.
“But—” I try to buy some time.
He ignores me and turns around to grab his walking cane, left by one side of the piano, and to lower the lid over the keys.
His long fingers let go; the lid slams with a thundery sound that fills the room for a long second.
“You’ve done what was asked. Now get ready for the meeting.
Unless you have other plans?” Roden spins on his shiny black shoes.
His smile freezes the blood in my veins. I clench my teeth but hold my chin up. “She should wake up in less than an hour and may need food and water before anything else.”
Every time his cane touches the ground, my nerves react as if an invisible hand is sticking needles in my limbs. He gets closer and closer and only stops when there are barely a few steps between us. I can only stare at the cane’s tip as he extends it towards my face.
“I’ve always allowed my children too much freedom, and you are making me regret it.” His pale grey eyes narrow to hard ice chips, the lack of pupils making his gaze impossible to hold for too long.
I don’t have time to react; he’s too fast, and I realise he’s hit my hand with the walking stick only when burning pain spreads up to my wrist. My jaw is so tense that I fear my teeth will shatter, but it’s the only way to maintain the undignified, submissive facade required in our creator’s presence.
To reassure him that I’m still subject to his self-glorified patriarchal figure.
“Apologies, Roden, but we won’t get much out of her if she doesn’t even have the strength to stand or talk,” I bow my head slightly. “But, of course, you know better.” I reluctantly ease my grip around July’s waist and slide her arm off my shoulder.
“Indeed, I do,” he chirps, opening his arms to welcome July’s body, which nestles into Roden’s hug as if responding to a call to safety I can’t hear.
“If looks could kill,” Roden whispers, looking straight into my eyes before gesturing to the wall behind me, where the lift awaits me.
I stare at him for a long minute for a glimpse of the fatherly figure he still represents to some of us.
The first of our kind who stopped hiding his ability to handle souls as if they were pieces of clay and instead began trading them, taking advantage of those left poor and hopeless by the Great Famine, selling the souls of the Horigeans who didn’t pay him back in time to the highest bidder.
But all I can see when he huffs a cold laugh in my face, tightening his arms around July’s body, is the man who turned us into Harvesters, as Horigeans started to call us after realising that the souls of those who couldn’t hold up their end of the bargain would never return where they belonged.
The man who eventually forced us to abandon Horigos to seek safety in Libera when the Horigeans rose against us.
As if reading my thoughts, Roden leans forward and gently kisses my cheek. “You’ve always been my favourite. The rebel daughter who came back; the smartest. Too intelligent, perhaps.”
I shiver the moment he steps away, and my eyes fall on July, so defenceless in his hold. I know he will keep her safe, but my heart skips a beat.
Safe doesn’t mean unharmed.