The Gray Institute (The Gray Institute Trilogy Book 1) (33 page)

'So, what's the problem?' I whine, knowing, too, that Sir Alec would only be pleased to find Malachy helping me convince Lorna to change. 

'Lucrezia is the problem,' He snarls, causing my confidence to wither and die. 'I don't need to spell it out for you, Eve. You know the stories. If she caught you and I spending a substantial amount of time together, do you think that would bode well for you? Even if Sir Alec approved of it? Even if we had an excuse?'

'Well, no, but...'

'There's no point arguing with me,' He states, his tone final. 'I won't be seen with you again. Lucrezia's not stupid, she knows that you look like...' He falters. 'She'll suspect that I'm doing more than just helping you with your task. She'll make life hell for you. Just stay away from me, is that clear?'

I fold my arms across my chest. Malachy's voice is authoritative as he uses his Auctorita influence over me and I detest it.

'Crystal.' I reply sarcastically, taking a step away from him.

'Good,' He nods, his eyes holding mine, neither of us willing to look away first. 'You know about the cliff edge now, take Lorna Gray there, try your best. That's all you can do,' He tells me, his voice softening a little. 'Be careful, Eve.' He warns me, and I resist the urge to reach out to him.

I glare at him, half of me hating him, the other half longing for his comfort. Out of everybody – Islwyn, Tia – even Diana – Malachy somehow has the ability to soothe me more than anyone.

I take in his appearance, feeling as though it's for the last time. His platinum hair falls softly across his eye and I resist the temptation to brush it aside. His ice blue eyes stare intensely into mine, the edges darkened in the elevator shaft, shadows falling across the lower half of his face.

I want to touch him, but I daren't. I long for him to touch me, but I know he won't.

As I stand, lost in time, staring at him, I wonder if perhaps I do feel for him romantically. It would explain the way I'm behaving, the thoughts I'm having. It would explain why I feel such despair at the thought of spending no more time with him.

'Take care,' He tells me as I turn to leave, his voice soft and gentle. 'And good luck, Eve.' I wonder if I'll ever hear him speak my name again as I nod, hovering.

'Malachy.' I acknowledge him, his name melting on my tongue one more time. And then I'm gone, he is gone, I'm walking away, my legs carrying me along the corridor in the direction I least wish to go. I'm wobbling, unsteady on my feet, and the last I see of him is a flash of blond hair around a corner as I turn.

Tia is the last person in the world I want to see right now; her bubbliness and constant ecstasy are too much for me, but she continues to bound towards me no matter how much I will her away. She springs to my side, linking her arm through mine, chattering away about Richard's (so romantic!) proposal.

After such a turbulent couple of days, I'm glad to have Tia back on my side, but it's come at the worst moment and I can't force myself to sound interested, no matter how much I try. I nod and say
Mmm
in all the right places as we stroll through the corridors, but she can't be fooled and she glares at me as we round the corner to the third floor.

'What's wrong with you?' Her tone is hurt rather than concerned as we come to halt next to the spiral staircase. It's the same one Malachy and I ran into one another on twice before, and I try to ignore that fact as I focus my attention on my friend.

'I'm sorry. I just ran into Malachy, or rather, was pulled into a dark room by Malachy...'

'Oh really?' Tia's eyes sparkle as she raises an eyebrow suggestively. I sigh once more.

'Really. I can't be seen with him again. I'm not allowed to approach him. Ever.' I stamp my foot for emphasis and Tia's smile drops.

'Oh,' She breathes, not sure how to respond. I sense her discomfort but I'm too wrapped up in myself to care. 'Well, it's probably for the best,' She admits, recoiling as my eyes snap to hers, a deep frown settled on my face.

'What I mean is... well... I don't really know what the deal is there...' she stammers, looking trapped.

'The deal is I need his help. Now I don't have it.' I snap, slouching against the wall. Tia hesitates, opening and closing her mouth, wanting to say something but not quite knowing how or whether to.

'What?' I ask irritably.

'Well,' she hovers, unsure of herself. 'I mean, is that really the deal?'

'What's that supposed to mean? I don't speak code, Tia,' I snap. She sighs loudly, losing her patience.

'Okay, fine, I'll lay it out for you. I don't think you need Malachy's help as much as you pretend you do. You can only do so much to convince Lorna Gray to change willingly, and there's only so much Malachy can tell you to help.

Given the time frame, I think he's had plenty opportunity to tell you everything you could possibly need to know, and now you're stalling for time.'

'Stalling for time?' I snort, feeling a rage build in my chest.

'Yes, you're stalling for time. I've seen you, Eve! I've seen your face when he enters a room, I've seen the way you change. Your act is about as subtle as his. You're becoming as bad as Meredith!'

'That's a joke!' I laugh, indignant. 'I'm nothing like Meredith!'

'How so? You pine after Mal. You're not alive unless he's there...'

'Because I don't long for somebody who's barely said two words to me in three years!' My voice is rising steadily and I have no control over it. 'It's pathetic.'

'No, what's pathetic is you thinking that Malachy has some sort of interest in you as Eve Ryder. He may be helping you out of character, he may seem softer towards you, but it's only because you're the spitting image of Aleks Anzhela. You need to remember that.

Another thing you need to remember is that Malachy Beighley is an Auctorita and has no use for the likes of you or me. He has more important things on his plate than helping you in your impossible task – the only reason he is is because he wants to redeem himself for letting Lucrezia and Sir Alec cart Aleks off to the Confine.

Remember who your real friends are, Eve. Obviously I need to be blunt with you to make you realise this.'

I'm gob smacked as Tia finishes her tirade. I can only stare at her, my mouth open like a fish. I've always known Tia's ability to hurt me, it comes with her place in my life as my closest friend, but I never dreamed she would use her place against me.

'Oh... fuck off, Tia,' Comes my oh-so-mature response. 'You don't know what you're talking about. I don't want Malachy. I don't want him to want me. You read too much into people's lives, you have nothing better to do with your own.' My retort is feeble as I storm away from her, heading for the elevator at the end of the hall.

'That may be so,' she calls from behind me. 'But at least I want someone who wants me back.'

Chapter Twenty-One

I crash through the halls, my usual precision and co-ordination flying out of the window as I stumble into walls and doors. I don't know where I'm going but it's certainly not to Theory class. I head for the ground floor, taking the stairs so as to avoid other students, and exit into the foyer, crossing to the main entrance.

I push the doors open with all my strength and barely notice as they smash against the outside walls behind me. I sprint into the grounds, the cold air whipping my face and hands as I head for the stream.

My mind is racing, a cacophony of Malachy and Tia's harsh words. It feels as though, in the last fifteen minutes, what was left of my life that was stable has crashed around me – Tia's friendship, Malachy's help – and I have nothing left to cling onto.

I lean against the small stone bench, breathing heavily, trying to calm myself and think clearly. But all I can concentrate on is my anger.

Anger at being thrown into a world against my will.

Anger at believing – for however short a time – that my life had changed for the better. 

Anger at Sir Alec for forcing this impossible task on me, putting my life in jeopardy and ruining my new-found happiness.

Anger at Lorna for her utterly respectable refusal to bend her will.

Anger at Malachy for coming into my life and then leaving it.

Anger at Tia for knowing so much and relaying the truth to me. 

But mainly anger at the fact that somehow, some way, everything good in my life ends up ruined.

I screwed up my past life by choice, then – after being handed a second chance – I've had this life screwed up for me, no matter how hard I tried to do what was right.

I sit on the bench, putting my head in my hands and wishing I could cry. Strange how my body still feels the need to. I still feel the convulsions in my stomach, still feel my eyes attempting to push through tears. But they never come. It feels unfinished.

No matter how hard I try, I can't cast Malachy's face from my mind, can't forget his scent, how my body feels in his presence.

Tia is right about one thing; Malachy is only helping me because I look like Aleks. He's trying to redeem himself for his past actions – or lack of them. He feels that helping me will absolve him of his past guilt, but at the same time, he knows it won't. I am a ghost in his mind. Unwelcome, yet irresistible. It seems clear to me now that Tia has put it into words.

But she's wrong about my feelings towards him.

I've felt romantically for someone before – albeit briefly. I know how it feels to want someone so badly it hurts, to feel fire in the pit of my stomach when they walk into a room, to feel on top of the world if they so much as look at me.

I know what love feels like, and what I feel for Malachy is not love. It's not longing, it's not romance.

It's simply unexplainable.

I'm so wrapped up in my thoughts and feelings, I don't hear footsteps behind me, don't sense another's presence. It's only when I breathe in that I know she's there. Her infatuating scent washes over me, carried on the wind. I don't turn to face her, she knows that I know she's there. She silently sits down next to me, her warm arm brushing against mine.

'I'm not in the mood for a conversation.' I tell her bluntly, all etiquette vanishing. Right now I don't care who she is – or who her father is – I want to be left alone.

'I know,' Lorna replies. 'I wasn't going to speak.'

'Then what do you want?' I ask irritably. She shifts a little closer, her long hair tickling my shoulder.

'To make sure you're okay.' She replies simply.

'You hated me a moment ago. You hate all my kind. But you want to make sure I'm okay?' I raise an eyebrow but I don't look at her.

'I don't hate you any more,' She pauses. 'Just you.'

'Why?' I sigh. I'm not really interested but I can hardly walk away from her.

'I don't know,' She shrugs. 'You're different.'

'Is that what you told Katy Branch?' I ask harshly. 'Was that before or after you asked her to help you bring down the Institute?'

'I didn't – ' She starts to say something but I suddenly realise I don't have the patience to hear it.

'I'm fine, all right?' I interrupt her. 'You can rest assured.'

'Is it Malachy Beighley?' There's a long pause after her question as I register my shock.

'I saw you together,' she explains quickly. 'In the elevator shaft. You left before he did. You looked pretty upset.'

Suddenly I feel angry. Angry towards her. Was she spying on me? Following me around? Has she ever heard mine and Malachy's conversations?

'You didn't seem to want to speak to Tia Carey... ' She continues. 'Then you had an argument with her. I just thought I'd make sure you're all right.'

'Jesus.' I breathe, turning my back on her. 

'I wasn't following you or anything,' She says quickly. 'Well, not at first. Obviously after I saw you upset, I followed you out here...'

'I'm fine, okay? How many more times do I have to tell you?' I huff, exasperated. I just want her to leave. I want to be by myself, alone in my anger.

She doesn't move, except to make herself more comfortable, and stares out across the stream. She inhales deeply, breathing in the fresh air she so often lacks, her expression content.

'If I was ever to become free of this place, I would live outside,' She states, as if I had asked. I roll my eyes, resigning myself to the fact that she isn't going to go away.

Through the haze of my anger, I realise that now would be an opportune moment to concentrate on my task. I'm alone with Lorna, and
she
sought
me
out this time. I try to push my thoughts of Malachy and Tia aside and focus my energy on her.

'I'd build a cabin or a hut or something,' She blabbers. 'Something lightweight, easy to just up and leave, you know? I wouldn't spend money on it, just a stove and a heater, I'd sleep outside mostly. If I ever make it away from here, I don't ever want to be separated from the outdoors again.'

'You will make it away from here,' I reply. 'When you're changed. You'll serve your five years and leave, same as everybody else.'

'Oh, you think so?' She cocks an eyebrow, suddenly aggressive. 'You think Alec will just free me to roam the world, knowing how I feel about your kind and my new
existence
?' She spits the word like it's a dirty one, but I see her point.

'Maybe not.' I admit. I wonder how Lorna has the energy to be so angry all the time. How she keeps the hate simmering inside her and never lets it peter out. Given enough time around anyone, I think I'd gradually change my views to suit theirs – it's human nature. How strongly she must feel about Immortals to keep her opinion of us so low even though she's surrounded by us.

'You feel strange around Malachy Beighley, don't you?' Her question catches me off-guard and I almost choke on thin air.

'Your talent for reading people's thoughts will get you into trouble one day.' I tell her grudgingly. I'm sure that when Lorna Gray is eventually changed, her gift will be the ability to read minds.

'Oh, I have no doubt about that,' She agrees. 'But I didn't actually use that talent on you this time,' She bends down to pick a yellow dandelion from the grass, tucking it neatly behind her ear. 'I know it for a fact.'

'Is that so?' I frown, annoyed by her confidence in her knowledge of me. 'How's that?'

'Because everybody does.' She shrugs.

'Everybody does what?'

'Everybody feels strange around him. At least, all of your kind.'

'What are you talking about?' I demand, tiring of her cryptic answers. She sighs, as if explaining is a trial for her.

'Honestly, Eve, I thought you were smarter than this,' She snorts, and I just about refrain from the urge to rip her head off with my bare hands. 'Malachy Beighley is an Auctorita, yes?' She speaks slowly, as if to a child.

'Or at least he will be. He was changed by
the
Auctorita, Sirus Bathory, the most important member of your kind. Head of the Government, keeper of laws, top dog. You with me so far?' She asks sarcastically, and I grit my teeth as I nod.

'Your kind are a bit like wolves. You don't flock together in packs – quite the opposite – but you do need an Alpha to retain some volume of law and order amongst you. That's Sirus Bathory, he is the Alpha, and you are all his pack.

What the Alpha says goes, and not just in a
You'd better do what I say or else I'll Confine you
sort of way. I mean in a feral, evolutionary sort of way, too.

You have virtually no choice but to obey the Alpha. It's in your nature.'

'What are you saying?' I frown, feeling a sense of foreboding creep over me.

'What are they teaching you at this Institute?' Lorna tuts. 'Look, if you ever met Sirus Bathory, and he told you to stand on your head and belt out the British national anthem, you'd feel inclined do it.

You almost don't have a choice, it's programmed into your brain. You feel you have to obey the Alpha, whether you want to or not. He has a hold over you that you can't control. Sirus Bathory has a hold over all your kind.'

'What does this have to do with Malachy?' I ask begrudgingly, annoyed that I have to question a human about my own kind's history.

'Don't you get it?' She tuts again, rolling her eyes. 'Malachy was Created by Sirus. His venom flows within Malachy's blood. Malachy is next in line to the throne. Which means he possesses some of Sirus' power over the other Immortals.'

'What are you saying?' I ask again. 'That Malachy is my Alpha? That he has a power over me?' I snort, but Lorna nods seriously.

'That's exactly what I'm saying. You know what I'm talking about, you've felt it.' She shrugs, turning her attention to the willow tree as it sways in the wind. I watch her closely, searching for a sign that she's joking around. But when I think about it, it sort of makes sense.

I can't deny the way I feel around Malachy has had me puzzled for days. I was almost ready to put it down to a romantic interest, such is it's strength and obscurity.

I cast my mind back over the last few weeks, trying to remember an instance when I disobeyed Malachy's wishes.

'The other night he told me to get out of his room,' I state, ignoring Lorna's suggestive raised eyebrow. 'He told me to leave. I did, but I came back. How do you explain that?' I ask, feeling smug.

'Well, you have to consider whether or not he really wanted you to leave,' She shrugs. 'He can say what he likes, give whatever orders he likes, but unless he means them – really means them – they have no power over you. Perhaps he wanted you to come back, perhaps even that wasn't your own decision.'

'This is completely fucked up!' The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them and Lorna's head snaps back in alarm. She eyes me warily for a moment before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

'I can't think of a more accurate phrase for it.' She snorts, but to me it's no laughing matter.

How am I supposed to know whether the things I said and did around Malachy were actually my own words and actions, and not some twisted portrayal of what he wanted to hear or see?

'So, everybody is like this around him?' I ask.

'Well, to a certain extent,' Lorna shrugs. 'I must admit, from what I've seen, you do seem to have a stronger reaction to him than most. Some of your kind do, Meredith Draper for example. And...' She trails off her sentence and as I sit, lost in my own thoughts, the name leaves my mouth without warning.

'Aleks Anzhela.'

Lorna gasps, her green eyes wide, and I clamp a hand over my mouth, cursing myself for slipping up a second time.

'Well, aren't you the rebel?' She smirks mischievously, studying me thoughtfully.