Wilde Card, page 21
“And the disciplinaries,” Anya added, cutting her cold gaze to Tia. Jeez, lady.
On that note, Natalia pulled out the chair at the head of the table, back to the door. “Sit.”
Tia was tempted to remind her that she wasn’t a dog, but the look on her face forced Tia’s mouth shut. Natalia took a seat at the other end of the table, Anya on her left and Harry on her right. A folder of loose sheets had appeared on the table from somewhere but Tia was too far away to even glimpse any of the words. Jay had offered to come with her but she didn’t want him or Raghida implicated in any way. Now she sat opposite the hand of the Rebellion in the bizarrest of situations, wondering how she managed to get herself in trouble so often.
“Valentia Wildehurst,” Harry began.
“Wilde,” Natalia and Tia corrected him simultaneously. Harry smiled lightly and continued. “Wilde. You are accused of taking three weapons from the armoury this morning without permission. You have provided us with the evidence we need.”
He lapsed into silence and it became clear to Tia that he was waiting for Natalia to carry on. From her position opposite them, Tia could see the disgust on Anya’s face clearly. Her red hair was pulled back tightly, her face drawn into a severe expression, making her look older than she was.
Natalia shuffled the papers in front of her and cleared her throat. She was nervous but you wouldn’t know it unless you knew her well enough - she had lowered her hands into her lap, clenched into fists. “Valentia, when you were admitted into the Rebellion, were you made aware of our rules?”
Despite her nerves, Natalia’s voice was steady and clear. Tia thought of their first ever debate in college. She had thought that Natalia was intelligent, fast on her feet and calculating. She had impressed Tia with her ability to sway people’s way of thinking - it seemed so easy for her, like breathing or taking a step. Looking at her now, in her position of power, as leader of the Rebellion, Tia felt a mixture of pride and anger. Pride, because Natalia had set her sight on something and she had achieved it - anger, because she knew how much Andy meant to Tia and instead of helping her with the available resources, Natalia was trying to pin her down for borrowing weapons. Some friend.
Tia didn’t want to answer Natalia’s questions, so she didn’t. Natalia grew irritated at her petulance, though not as much as Anya did. After the third unanswered question, she exploded into movement, leaning forward over the table. Anya’s voice, and her hand as she placed it palm down on the surface, was steady.
“Look at you, just a child.” She said it like the word itself was an insult. “Sitting there like you’re exempt from the rules.”
“Annie,” Harry said, a warning. Tia looked towards him briefly and saw that he was tired. Anya annoyed her; there was just something about her eyes and the twist of her lip.
“Every democracy needs rules, little girl, or all we have is chaos. You claim you’re here to help us create change but you’re trying to hinder us.” Anya sneered. “If it were up to me-”
“But it’s not up to you. Sit down, Anya.”
Natalia. She had shoved the papers away and was watching her left with a calculated wariness. It hit Tia, then, that Anya was the council member Natalia didn’t trust, the one who wanted more violence, action and results. The older woman sat back with ill-hidden disgust.
“Tia, if you just answer the questions we can get this over and done with,” Natalia said.
“Why don’t you just give me my punishment and I’ll be on my merry way.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” Harry sighed, his head lowered to the surface of the table. He obviously would have been happier to not be there. He probably hadn’t had many disciplinaries during his time at the head of the table.
“You’re a disgrace. Your parents would be disgusted,” Anya muttered.
Tia sucked in a sharp breath. The words had hit her right where it hurt. She met Anya’s smug face and had to resist the urge to launch herself across the table.
“You have no right to talk about them.”
“They were real Rebels.”
Tia’s face flushed. “Were they? And where were you - the ‘real Rebels’ - when they needed you? Huh?” Her voice was rising with every word. Harry looked concerned, Natalia was watching carefully, Anya was simply ecstatic - as if she thrived off of chaos.
“The Rebellion has strict rules about contact with ex-members-” Harry began.
“Screw your rules,” she screamed. “My father died!”
The whole room was shocked into silence, including her. Her chest was rising and falling with her heaving, her face was hot. She was sick of hearing their excuses, their little reasons, the cowardly we-didn’t-just-push-it-to-the-back-of-our-mind statements. The truth was simple; after everything her parents had done for the Rebellion - her whole family really - they had walked away without worrying that they might actually need their friends one day. But that day came: Andy was dead now, because of that day. Rules or no rules, what kind of person could allow that? She stared at the lithe smile on Anya’s menacing face. That kind of person.
Natalia stood up and leaned forward onto her hands. “Guys, leave us. I’ll talk to her alone.”
Harry hesitated, “The disciplinaries aren’t usually-”
“This isn’t a usual disciplinary, Harry, with all due respect.” She looked down at her predecessor. “Leave us.”
Tia watched, short of breath, as the two council members left the room. Natalia didn’t wait for the door to close before she rounded the table and sat to Tia’s immediate left. She hadn’t realised that she was gripping the edge until Natalia gently moved her hands; she saw with some disinterest that the tip of one of her nails had snapped off and was dangling by a thread. She pulled her hands back to her side and tugged it off with shaky fingers. She wanted to calm herself down but it was hard when she still had Anya’s smug face in her mind’s eye. She wondered if her parents had even been genuine friends with her, because the woman didn’t seem the type to befriend Tia’s gentle parents. Had been, she corrected herself. Mum still is, but dad never will be again.
“Why did you take the weapons?”
Tia tilted her head and ignored Natalia’s question. She was watching Tia like an owl who had spied its prey, not with hunger, but with interest. Tia had seen that look on her face, ages ago, during their first stint at friendship. It wasn't easy to catch Natalia’s interest - she was a harsh critic of everything.
Tia thought she owed it to Natalia to let her know what she had just figured out: “Anya will eventually try to overthrow you.”
Natalia’s eyes widened slightly. “Is that so...Mystic Meg?”
The sneer on Anya’s face, Tia had seen that same look on Summer’s face. The two women were eerily similar; the type who would do anything to get whatever they wanted. Tia recognised cold cunning when she saw it - she’d seen it enough in Ryan. She wondered how anyone could be so spoilt as to think they could just manipulate people like marionettes. She was doing Natalia a favour by warning her instead of discussing pointless things like missing weapons. By the curve of Natalia’s lip, however, Tia guessed she already knew about her slippery ‘friend’. It didn’t surprise Tia, she doubted there was much that Natalia missed, especially in these tunnels.
“You lied. To protect Brooks,” Natalia continued. She didn’t need to confirm Tia’s suspicions about Anya, they both knew the woman couldn’t be trusted. Natalia’s statement was a fact, not a question...because she wasn’t looking for an answer. The problem with knowing Natalia so well was that she, in turn, knew Tia well too. There was no point lying to Natalia now, she would see straight through it.
Tia shifted in the chair. “It’s not like I could ask-”
“But you did.” Natalia looked at her as a mother would look at her child, a telling off, delivering a lesson to be learned. It made Tia uncomfortable. She saw Natalia’s eyes flicker down to her neck where the love bite had mostly faded. “You asked Marcus.”
Her head sprang up. “He told you?”
“I’m his superior now,” Natalia snapped. “He missed a meeting. I went to ask after his health and caught him reading your little diary. He told me you found it, and that it belonged to your father and you needed him to transcribe the cipher for you.”
“He had no right-”
“And then I catch you with stolen weapons. What’s going on, Tia? And more importantly, why didn’t you feel that you could come to me?”
The words failed Tia. She was asking Tia why she didn’t trust her? Until recently, the only time they’d ever spoken to each other was to trade insults. Natalia had treated her like a pariah, publicly humiliated her and looked at her as if she were dirt on her shoe. Tia sighed. Natalia found it so hard to understand that she was a prickly character; she believed the problem was always with other people, never with herself. She looked earnest enough but did Tia really trust her yet? Marcus had told Tia to ask her for resources and she’d bypassed that option...and still had nothing. Maybe it was time for Tia to swallow her pride and ask Natalia for help.
“I don't think you'd believe me.”
“Try me.”
The words were spilling from her lips before she even knew what was happening. Natalia’s face didn't twitch, not even a muscle, during her tale. But when Tia got to the part about Madeline, she frowned hard enough to create a thick line across her brow. “You could have been hurt. Those people are dangerous.”
“That's why I took the weapons.”
“We both know that Brooks took them,” Natalia rolled her eyes. “And you know if that woman had accidentally scratched you, you would be in the infirmary right now?”
“Aww, I didn't know you cared,” Tia laughed low, cutting her eyes sideways.
It was just a joke but Natalia stiffened anyway. Tia regretted the words but Natalia was already leaning away. She seemed focused on the topic at hand. “You need to be more careful.” Tia opened her mouth to apologise but she cut her off again. “And I expect you to report to me on any developments or plans.”
“Talia...does this mean you're going to help me look for the people who killed my father?”
“You're the ‘jewel’ of the Rebellion. If I didn't, the spirit of Duke Wildehurst would probably never let me rest.”
Tia leapt up and threw herself into her lap. Natalia wasn't an affectionate person but Tia wrapped herself around her like an octopus - Tia had seen one in a textbook once, arms like vices. She felt a joy in her heart that took over her sense; she could really get some results with the resources of the Rebellion behind her. Us, she corrected herself. Jay and Raghida were a part of this too now. Natalia was so shocked by Tia’s burst of energy and it was so unsuspected that she rocked back in the chair. Their combined weight took the chair onto its two rear legs. There was a moment where they were suspended in the air - Natalia’s wide eyes met Tia’s - and Tia thought they were going to hit the floor. With their weight and the awkward manner with which she had twisted herself around Natalia, she imagined it would be disastrous and very, very painful.
But Natalia hooked her foot around the table leg and tilted the chair back onto all fours with a loud bang. Tia scrambled off her lap and adjusted her jacket.
“Don't ever do that again,” Natalia muttered, looking - for the first time ever - uncomfortable.
Tia laughed, still giddy from the thought of avenging Andy. For the first time ever, she felt like maybe she was getting somewhere with all this. She turned to leave, paused. “What are you going to tell the Council? They're expecting a disciplinary.”
Natalia’s mouth curved into a half moon and it was like watching a knife carve through butter. She didn't smile for no reason. “Expecting? You're on clean up duty for the next two weeks.” And Tia saw in her face that she was not joking.
16 - Bewildered And Bleeding
Tia often passed hordes of people in the tunnels on their way to training, to their missions or to the canteen. She liked to observe the way the gear looked on them, how it fit to their bodies, how they chose to wear it. It made her feel at peace, to feel a part of something so influential like the Rebellion. She liked to imagine her parents walking through these corridors, hand in hand or debating semi-seriously about something unimportant. Tia always pictured her father with more hair and a younger face; the Andy of those pictures Harry had shown her. Jessie would have gangly limbs, a body she hadn't quite grown into yet, and a knowing look in her eye. The scene made Tia’s heart hurt. She missed him so much.
Clearing her head, she tried to focus on where she was going. She always sang the song under her breath to help her navigate, even though she was almost certain she knew her way around already. The faint sound of her footsteps preceded her and Marcus was watching the door as she entered the library. Today he sat at a small table in the centre of all the bookshelves. The library was designed so the bookshelves formed a starburst around ten small tables that would seat two each. She usually found Marcus hiding at the back, where he could catnap without disturbance - but he was waiting for her this time, a clear folder laid in front of him.
“Marcus,” she inclined her head, the sign of respect that he deserved.
“Wilde-fox,” he grinned and his jowls split to form that ever exhaustive joy of his. He'd taken to calling her that and she couldn't deny that she liked it, if only because it came from him. She took her seat opposite him and he flipped the folder to her side of the table. “Done.”
She ogled the folder. “All of it?” There had been at least fifty entries in Andy’s journal. Marcus simply smiled and she took it to mean the cipher was obviously uncomplicated, well known and not a challenge for him. She started to flick through the sheath of papers where he had written the translations for each entry beside the entries. His writing was small, cramped and heavy but if she held the paper slightly away then she could read it, with a little difficulty.
“Shall I leave you to it?”
She found that her heart was beating fast, and her palms had become clammy. She didn't know why she was suddenly so nervous to read her father's words after waiting for so long. Marcus was watching her expectantly, waiting for an answer.
“Oh, sorry, yes, please,” she babbled. He left her in the library by herself to read through the journal, patting her on the shoulder as he went. On each table was a small candle - Tia moved it out of the way so no wax would spill onto the sheets.
◆◆◆
Quentin told me today that there have been rumours that the Blocs have been recruiting hordes of new staff that no one ever sees. Suspicious, but not enough. I haven't told him about the homeless woman, I don't want him to think I'm paranoid. He only recently started to calm down about surveillance, I don't want to spook him. But I can't stop thinking about what I saw.
◆◆◆
I decided to look for Madeline, the homeless woman I thought I saw in Bloc 3. Because obviously that wasn't her in there. Just for peace of mind, I took the day off and searched. It was a waste of time, I found nothing. It's possible, of course, that she could be dead - lack of food, dehydration, drug overdose - but she was young, and she still had meat on her bones. Am I just being paranoid?
◆◆◆
The only solution is for me to go back to Bloc 3. It's almost impossible to get in there without clearance. The only reason I was authorised last time is because I was the replacement for someone else. Everyone is very secretive about the third Bloc, I don't know why and that alone makes me very suspicious. There are new rumours every day circulating amongst the other two s. Quentin has advised against me trying to obtain clearance - but I don't even know where to start.
◆◆◆
I shouldn't have done it, but I had to. I sought out my connections with the Rebellion, against the rules. I found Anya, Jessie’s old friend. Quentin said he knew someone who could get a message to her. We met in an old abandoned church on the outskirts of London where the windows had been stolen and the pews were missing. She looked different, but then of course over 18 years had passed between us. She was harder, her smile like tempered glass, her eyes like stone. She had no help for me, she said, she'd only come to tell me to never contact her or the Rebellion again; I was putting everyone in danger. I left with my plan in shreds.
◆◆◆
It's time to rely on my training. I haven't kept up with my fitness like Jessie has but when it comes down to it, I'm sure my training will just kick in automatically. I have to do this or I'll never get any answers.
◆◆◆
“Tia?”
Tia jumped, having been so engrossed in the photocopied journal that she didn't hear or see Chloe approaching her. She hadn't seen the girl for weeks, not since the day of Natalia’s accession. She looked the same; drawn eyebrows, permanently bored expression, dark jeans and chunky boots. Tia slid the sheets under the shadow of her elbow; she didn't want to have to answer any questions about what she was up to, especially not to Chloe.
“Hey, it's been a while,” Tia forced a smile.
Chloe’s only response was to raise a sardonic eyebrow. She liked to do everything sardonically, like she was a living, breathing symbol of irony. Tia watched her take a seat at the other side of the table, surprised if not a little annoyed. She rested her chubby hands on the surface, her fingers interlocked, the nails neatly squared off. It took Tia a moment to realise that the expression on her not-so-friendly-friend's face was...nervousness.
“Are you okay?”
Chloe scowled at her fingers, “I wanted to ask you something.”
“Go on.”
She hesitated, opening and closing her mouth several times with no resulting sound. Finally, she ripped her hands apart out of impatience and looked Tia in the eye. “Kal. I want him.”
The words were so shocking that Tia didn't even register them. She stared, “What?”
