Chapter 19 - Fair Exchange
July
While the meaningless words flash on the screen, chairs move to face the white panel, accompanied by muffled comments that quickly fade into utter silence.
Pictures start rolling on the white fabric sheet, showing a woman giving birth with a man kneeling at her bedside.
When I blink, the scene is gone, replaced by a reverse countdown from zero to five.
The chubby face of a young boy pops up after the number five has flashed twice; tears mark his cheeks.
I look down, following the child's gaze to the cause of his pain—the broken toy resting in his little hands.
The scene starts shrinking into a black dot until it completely covers the sad face, and the number six appears in the middle.
A couple. Their pale features, like treetops in the mist, stare at the boy while he stands under a kitchen door frame. It’s hard to tell if his shoulders are shaking or if we are disturbing the fabric panel with our breath.
Is he scared?
Eight. This is not a countdown, but the boy’s age.
There’s an envelope on the kitchen table, and the woman from the previous picture is holding a cheque—big money, judging by the glass falling from her open hand towards the floor, already splattered with milk.
The woman’s eyes are wide, but what calls to me are her lips, tight, stretched against her teeth, trying to hold back a smile.
Then something else distracts me. Dark red letters are watermarked on the back of the cheque, the same as on Roden’s ring—RB.
I blink faster, hoping to speed up to the end because I can’t bear the pain slithering through those pictures. I don’t even know the child’s name, but he makes me feel uncomfortable, as if his pain projects off the pictures onto me.
The screen twitches, and the picture turns into a video of a room with walls covered in posters of galaxies and winged creatures.
The little boy is asleep, one arm resting over his head.
Whoever is recording him zooms in, and I press my back against my chair as if preparing for the drop of a roller coaster.
He moves in his sleep and turns over.
I reckon he is now a teenager. I squint and lean over to look closer at his face, the shape of his jaw shadowed by a young beard.
His light brown hair is ruffled against the pillow.
Underneath the lids, his eyes are moving fast, left and right.
They’re not entirely shut, and a hint of light green, between the double line of dark lashes, captures my attention.
“He’s having a nightmare,” I say between my teeth, but nobody seems to be paying attention to me. I clench my fingers into fists when a slight wince flashes across his face. We both hold our breaths momentarily, separated by many miles and years.
“Not again, please.” The boy jolts upright and screams; his face is pale and covered in sweat. As pale as I fear mine has suddenly become, the moment his eyes pierce the screen and meet mine. The hair on my arms stands up…
I shake my head…I must have imagined it. The echo of his pain lingers in the room, but nobody seems to care except for me. I quickly look around, and every face I meet is relaxed as if they’ve all watched this before.
The young man and his room fade to a black flashing dot on the screen, and light begins to spread all around me, forcing me to face the Chapter and its lies once again.
“What you’ve just witnessed is a glitch, July. An experiment, some may call it. But we prefer—a rebel soul.” Popplewish's voice rolls across the table.
I was never so bold as to hold Miss P.’s gaze for longer than a few seconds, but how she’s just spoken of that poor, scared child makes my blood boil. “A glitch? That’s a living being, for fuck’s sake—”
“That language is not—” Lily Drestall starts.
I push back in my chair, which skitters across the floor and stops inches from hitting the wall behind me.
I’m too aware of my face getting red and warm with rage as I snap at Lily with disgust, throwing my hands up, “What? Appropriate? Accepted? Was it appropriate to pay a mother to give away her son? Because that’s what the cheque was for, wasn’t it?
You bought him.” I scan the room, which is lined with emotionless faces, like dusty portraits from centuries ago.
Lily distractedly spins a thin gold ring around her finger, but her voice is sharp when she says, “What a ridiculous assumption. Have you ever considered observing what you think is the truth from another perspective? Before voicing your opinions, perhaps?”
I root my feet into the floor. “A bad apple tastes rotten from whatever side you bite it.” I can hardly hear myself speaking over the throbbing sound in my head.
Roden, who has enjoyed my outburst from his spot next to the screen, pulls out a purple handkerchief from his pocket and starts polishing the jewelled top of his cane. “I’d rather say it was a fair exchange of goods, Miss Crimson,” he says, slightly arching his eyebrows without looking at me.
At the same time, Miss Popplewish activates the switch on the wall to roll the screen back up.
“July,” she calls for my attention, “We didn’t experiment on him.
We just took him back. Those people took care of him, but they also had to use their own savings to provide him with a roof, warm clothes, and a normal life.
They brought him up as if he were their biological son.
” She pauses, searches for Roden’s eyes, then sighs loudly.
“He’s a Rogue of a kind you’ve never met before. ”
I bite the inside of my cheek, which still hurts and tastes of blood.
Amelia intervenes, yawning dramatically, “This romantic, poetic reveal is killing me, Eve. Just give her the whole story so we can return to our lives.” Her hair frames one side of her face when she rests her head on her left hand.
I look around to study everyone’s reaction, but I freeze when I meet Roden’s eyes, glaring at me with a new, daunting light. “Absolutely.” His hands tighten on the walking cane pommel as he leans forward with a satisfied smirk. “Miss Crimson can have whatever she needs— If we reach a deal…”
I don’t know where I found the energy to react, but my hands slam on the table, causing a brief commotion.
“A deal? You drugged me, kidnapped me, hurt me,” I hold up my wrists, still carrying the marks left by the ties, “And all you have to offer is a freaking deal? Is this your way to make me believe I still have a choice?”
Nikrah laughs nervously while Amelia leaves her seat to grab a fresh cup of coffee. “We’re never going to leave this room,” I hear her muttering.
Roden’s serene face twitches with surprise. He scans me, head to toe and his nose wrinkles as if I smell like a perfect-plan breaker.
I swallow a knot of fear but continue, “Since I can remember, I’ve been following orders. Your orders—and never, not once, questioned my actions…”
Tydell shifts in his chair as if on fire, while Proja coughs, covering his mouth. “Egocentric little—”
“Not now, Proja.” Lily snaps, making my attention fall briefly on the Master Donatori’s tanned face.
I ride the wave of adrenaline currently keeping me awake.
“Let’s pretend I’m an egocentric little prick.
You’re a Master Donatori. You surely know what happens to the decaying souls I bring back from Horigos.
Not the nice ones who’ve tried their best to pay Roden back but didn’t succeed.
I’m talking about those pieces of shit who use what Roden gives them to hurt other Horigeans that no other Reaper is so keen to harvest.”
I turn to stare at Proja, straight in those black, so full of themselves, eyes. “What do you do with them if they’re too dirty, too sinful for a new vessel?” My chest expands, and I hold my breath for a second. “Do you recycle them for other purposes? Like that rebel on the screen?”
Amelia sighs so theatrically that Nikrah Skell and I roll our eyes simultaneously.
“Oh, don’t worry, Miss Kram, I’m just twisting and turning the truth.” My smile for Amelia is so fake that it hurts the corner of my mouth. “Besides, I can ask whatever I want. Roden will erase my mind like a chalkboard if I touch any topics I’m not supposed to.”
My train of thought unravels faster than my mouth can keep up, and faster than the people in the room can follow, as I start pacing back and forth.
“Someone has to stop this,” Tydell mutters, losing the battle with his glasses after they’ve slid down his sharp nose twice. Eventually, he takes them off and hangs them on the collar of his oversized shirt.
Roden clicks his tongue twice, silencing everyone. “Absolutely not. I want to hear what else Miss Crimson can come up with.” His grey eyes light up with a predatory gleam.
I survey the room. All eyes are fixed on me, some begging me to shut up and let this come to an end, and some intrigued, whether by my newly found courage or recklessness, who knows.
“Fine,” I say, opening my arms, addressing Popplewish and offering her an invitation to tell me the truth.
“What do you have to say?” Physically and mentally exhausted, I lift my chair from where I sent it toppling moments ago and slump back on it, holding my hand up as Popplewish motions towards me.
“I can clearly hear you from where you are.”
She presses her lips together, pulling her silvery, ginger hair onto one shoulder. “What I’m about to say will shock you and, knowing you, probably make you angry at the people in this room…”
I pucker my lips and shake my head. “I think you’ve succeeded at that already.”
“July—”
“I’m sorry. Go ahead.”
“What we did to that man was to preserve our talents and ensure nobody would exploit the Rogues by hunting them down.”
I fear what’s coming. But I nod, pushing down the many questions inside me.