The Memory Keepers (27 page)

83

One day. That’s what he kept telling himself. One more day until the Winter-turn Ball. If he could just make it until then, maybe the next person to open his cell door would be someone from the Movement coming to free him. Maybe it would be Kola. Maybe Alba would be there too, and she’d smile and throw her arms round his neck and bury him in kisses.

What a way to die.

Or maybe their plan would fail and Seven would be buried another way; in the prisoners’ cemetery, his body lost among thousands of anonymous others.

He shook his head. ‘Don’t think like that,’ he muttered fiercely.

The Movement’s plan would work. It had to. He went over all the things they had going in their favour; the element of surprise, insider information and evidence, Alastair White’s skid. And, of course, the truth.

Though, Seven thought, that didn’t seem to be something London valued very much any more.

84

Preparations for the ball had been underway since sunrise, clattering and hammering and shouted instructions filling her room with noise. Alba was curled on a chair by the windows, watching the grounds around their house being transformed. There were marquees, fountains, seating areas with velvet sofas and chairs, lights with star-shaped casings draped from the trees, elegant statues, stages for performers. Underneath it all, a soft covering of fake snow turned the ground white and glittering in the low, wintry sun.

It was beautiful.

‘Seven would
hate
this,’ she said with a small laugh, then fell silent, biting her lip.

Alba didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t turn up with the Movement that evening. Everything she wanted, everything she was hoping for now, was tied inextricably to Seven. His lopsided grin and sharp grey eyes were in each and every one of her thoughts of the future. When she touched her lips she imagined she could still feel him on them, that she was still holding onto the taste of him.

Was this love? she wondered. The way her heart beat fast every time she pictured him? The way she could hear his laughter when she closed her eyes?

The way the world became ever more unbearable each moment he wasn’t in it?

A knock on the door brought Alba back to the present. A small woman with short mousey hair stepped in.

‘Malinda, ma’am. I’m your new handmaid, ma’am. Mrs White has sent me to get you ready for the Ball.’

Alba glanced at the clock. ‘Already? It’s only four in the afternoon.’

‘Mrs White thinks three hours is just about enough time, ma’am.’

It turned out three hours
was
only just about enough time for Malinda to prepare Alba for the Ball. She was steamed, plucked, pruned and primped, and her hair (some wispy half-up, half-down style threaded with small white flowers) and make-up (dusty, shimmering skin and pale pink lips) alone took over an hour. It was already darkening outside by the time Malinda fitted Alba into her dress. It was a sparkling, jewelled creation, all silver and white, strapless, with a fitted bodice and long hem that swirled round her ankles.

Alba stared at herself in the mirror when Malinda had finished clipping a heavy necklace of shining white diamonds round her neck.

‘You look beautiful, ma’am,’ Malinda gushed. ‘Mrs White will be so proud.’

No, Alba wanted to say,
Dolly and Seven
would be proud. Well, Seven’s jaw would fall open and he’d mostly just be a stuttering wreck, but she’d know what he meant when he muttered, ‘Effing hell, Alba.’ She’d know, because she knew
him
, and yes, yes of course this was love, what else could it be? And if the gods were kind enough to let her see him again, she would tell him, she would tell him she loved him.

I love him
, Alba thought, feeling breathless.

‘It’s time, ma’am. The guests will be arriving soon.’

Malinda led Alba from the room, leaving her alone once they were outside the house to help with the guests’ arrival. Alba spotted London Guardmen stationed around the grounds, their uniforms swapped for black suits and silver waistcoats, the outline of a bulldog stitched onto their breast pockets.

A lantern-lined path led round to the back of the house. Alba’s heels clicked as she followed it. Even though it was a clear November night it wasn’t cold, the tall, light-strung heaters blasting warmth, making the air – spun with orchestral music from the live band on the main stage – sugary and soft.

It all felt so dreamlike.
This is what North has gotten used to
,
she thought
. A beautiful, fake world.

No wonder they thought nothing of fabricating memories, too.

‘Alba.’

She turned at the sound of her name and saw her mother walking towards her on the path. Oxana looked beautiful in a tight-fitting gold gown, slit high on one leg. Her hair was tied in a sleek ponytail, tiny beads and diamonds threaded through it. Deep plum lipstick coloured her lips.

‘Am I going to have to worry about you tonight?’ Oxana asked, moving closer until Alba could smell her too-sweet perfume. Her eyes were dark and glossy.

‘No, Mother,’ Alba answered dully, not missing the threat in her words.

‘Good. Your engagement to Thierry will be announced tonight during your father’s speech. You’ll be expected to join him on stage for photos.’

‘I can’t wait.’

Her mother’s eyes hardened. ‘None of this petulance any more, Alba,’ she said sternly. ‘You are marrying Thierry, whether you like it or not. You should be grateful for this opportunity. You are just sixteen. What can you know of what you want in life? Everything you believe in, your hopes and dreams – they could be torn from you at any moment. Your father and I are offering you safety.’ Her voice softened. ‘Please take it.’

When Alba didn’t reply, her mother took a long breath. She reached out, her polished fingertips touching Alba’s cheek.

‘You look beautiful, my darling,’ she said gently.

After a long, searching look, the hint of something soft turning behind those iced-over blue eyes, she turned and swept down the path back towards the front of the house, her dress rippling silkily along the ground behind her.

85

The door swung open for the first time that day. Seven had lost track of time in the eternally lit cell. Was it night yet? Had the Ball started? Lin entered, holding a tray of food that smelled so good it made Seven’s stomach curl. All he’d been given so far was stale water and crusty bread, stuffed into his mouth because his own hands were in cuffs.

‘Dinner,’ said Lin with a smile. He set the tray down on the spare chair and moved behind Seven. There was a click as the handcuffs sprang open.

Immediately, Seven grasped his hands. They were covered in dried blood. He flexed them, trying to ease off the constant cramp that had settled in his wrists and arms.

‘Here.’ Lin handed him the plate of food. ‘As a thank-you for complying with us so far.’

Seven let out a snort. ‘Poisoning me as a way of saying thank you? No thanks.’

‘It’s not poisoned.’

‘Well, I don’t want it.’

His belly let out a growl.

Lin’s smile edged wider. ‘Are you sure about that?’ He sat back in the chair, resting his hands on his knees. ‘We’re not heartless, Candidate. We know to reward loyalty.’

‘I’m not loyal to you,’ Seven spat.

‘Well, we’re hoping we can change that. Now, please – eat. You’ll need your energy for what I am about to ask of you.’

Just for a second, Seven considered throwing the plate of food in Lin’s face. Then (telling himself that it would be an insult to the animal that had died for this meal) he began stuffing the tender slices of roast beef, rosemary potatoes, garlic beans and fried onions into his mouth. Juices dripped down his fingers. Of course they hadn’t given him any cutlery. They were aware of how much could be done with a toothpick; gods forbid he ever got hold of a
spoon
.

Lin smiled when he’d finished. ‘Good, isn’t it?’

Seven licked his lips.
Only the best effing meal I’ve had in my entire life
,
he thought.

Instead, he shrugged. ‘Needed more salt.’

Lin laughed. ‘Well, Candidate Seven.’ He stood, brushing down his sleek grey suit. ‘Now you’ve got your energy back, I’ve got a little exercise for you.’

He took the empty plate and set it down on his chair. Pulling something out of his suit pocket, he bent and crouched beside Seven, cutting the plastic cords round his ankles. Then he moved to the door and waited for Seven to follow.

But Seven stayed put. ‘Damn,’ he said, yawning theatrically. ‘Still knackered. Think it’ll take at least two more plates before I can go anywhere.’

Lin’s glare was cold. ‘Come with me, Candidate. You can eat again after.’

‘After what?’

‘Come with me, and you’ll find out.’

Knowing he didn’t have any choice, Seven got to his feet. He moved shakily, his ankles feeling swollen and bruised, and it hurt to stretch out his legs after all this time. Lin led him down the corridor in the opposite direction to Loe’s cell. He didn’t put Seven’s handcuffs back on or guide him by the neck like Nihail had done, but when Seven glanced over his shoulder he saw a burly London Guardman following them as they walked, and knew better than to try anything. Besides, one thing he did know for certain: his fighting skills (or rather, lack of) weren’t going to help him one bit here.

They came to the end of the corridor and turned into a lobby area with a set of lifts. A desk ran along the opposite wall, two guards sat behind it. Moving over to the lifts, Lin swiped his access card over the panel to call for one.

‘Since you know all about The Memory Keepers,’ he said, ‘including the fact that you
are
one, we thought it was time you had a go for yourself.’

Seven tensed. He thought of the skid Takeshi had made him alter; the overpowering scent of male sweat, Oxana’s ripped clothes, the metallic snap as Takeshi lowered down, unbuckling his belt  … 

Seven used to love skid-surfing. Now, he didn’t think he wanted to look inside some else’s mind ever again.

When the lift arrived, Lin, Seven and the guard who’d been tailing them all got in and the doors slid shut.

It happened so fast Seven didn’t even have time to react.

Just as the lift began to glide down, the guard jerked forward and grabbed Lin, locking an arm round his neck and jabbing something into the side of his neck. Lin’s shout died in his throat. He slumped down and the guard dropped him, kicking his body to the back of the lift.

‘I’m Axel,’ grunted the man, turning to Seven. He had a stony face and deep-set blue eyes. ‘Welcome to the Movement, Candidate Seven.’

‘Er  …  hi.’

Axel jabbed a different floor on the lift’s display. Crouching beside Lin, he took an access card and a tablet from his pockets before gagging him and tying his arms and legs with plastic cords.

‘Wh-where are we going?’ Seven stuttered, gaping at him.

Axel grinned. ‘Why, to the Ball, of course, Cinderella. The others are waiting in the car park. We need to get going quick before anyone raises the alarm.’ Flipping the back of Lin’s suit jacket over, he pulled out the gun that was tucked there and held it out to Seven. ‘Have you ever used one before?’

Seven shook his head. He took it with shaking hands: it was cold and heavy.

Axel finished running him through how to use it just as the lift slid to a stop. But before the doors could open fully, Seven jammed his finger on the
close
option on the controls, then the number of the floor they’d come from. The lift began to move back up.

Axel turned, frowning. ‘What the hell?’

‘My friends,’ Seven said. He swallowed, trying to calm his spinning heart. ‘I can’t leave them here.’

Axel’s mouth tightened. ‘Yes, you bloody
can
.’

He took a step towards the control panel but Seven blocked it, his face hard.

‘Two of my friends are up there. I’m not leaving them behind. After everything I’ve done for you guys, the least you can do is help me free my friends.’

‘It’s too dangerous. The whole building’ll know that we’re here.’

‘I don’t care!’ Seven shouted. ‘If I don’t try, I’ll spend the rest of my life hating myself.’
And I’ve done enough of that already
, he added in his head.

They were three floors away now.

Axel was glaring at him. Seven glared back.

Two floors away.

One floor.

‘Oh, fuck this.’

Axel grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pushed him in front of the doors.

‘Bastard attacked Lin in the lift!’ Axel yelled at the guards behind the desk as the doors opened. He shoved Seven forward. ‘I’m locking him back up. Gonna teach him what a mistake that was.’

The guards scrambled up. As they rushed past towards Lin’s unconscious body in the lift, Axel turned, pulled a gun from his holster, and shot them in the backs of their heads.

Seven’s mouth dropped open in horror, but Axel was already wheeling him away, leading him quickly down the corridor to the cells.

‘Where are they?’ Axel growled.

‘W-who?’

‘Your friends! Which cells are they in?’

Seven swallowed. ‘I – I don’t know where Dolly is. But Loe’s at the end of the hall.’

‘Isn’t that the girl that gave you up to the London Guard?’ Axel threw him a sharp look. ‘Still think she’s your friend?’

Without hesitation, Seven nodded.

He’d had plenty of time to think about what Loe had done over the last three days, and what he realised was that he
did
understand. He knew how desperate she’d been. She had given him up to protect Mika. Seven would have done the exact same thing for Alba, because that’s what you did when you loved someone, wasn’t it?

And he’d realised that he
did
love Alba. That he’d fight the whole world just to keep her safe. Just to see those pretty green eyes one more time, feel her kiss him that way she had the other night, as though she’d die if she didn’t, as though she needed his lips against her to breathe.

Seven
needed her to breathe.

They stopped outside Loe’s cell. Axel punched in the code to release the door and they went in.

Seven couldn’t help it; he recoiled at the smell. Loe was in an even worse condition than when he’d last seen her. Blood caked the skin around her jaw. Both eyes were swollen and bloodshot. She looked up as they entered, but her movements were slow and difficult.

Anger twisted like a knife in Seven’s gut. What did the London Guard want with Loe? Couldn’t they tell she was just a frightened girl trying to survive in a world that was doing everything it could to bring her down? How could they hurt her, knowing what they were doing themselves to innocent people?

Bending down, Axel cut Loe’s bindings free with a thick pair of metal clippers and unlocked her handcuffs. She didn’t seem to understand what was going on. She looked down at her uncuffed hands as though she’d never seen them before.

‘Who was the other one?’ Axel asked, getting back up.

‘Dolly Rose.’

He nodded. ‘I know where she is.’

As he left the room, Seven went over to Loe and swung an arm round her waist. Her eyes focused in and out as she looked at him. Her throat strained as she tried to croak something, but he cut her off.

‘It’s OK,’ he said gently. ‘We’re getting you out of here.’

Half carrying Loe, Seven left the cell. He spotted Axel, back the way they’d come at the far end of the corridor, disappearing into another cell. By the time they reached it, he was leading someone out.

‘Dolly!’ Seven cried.

She turned, her eyes flashing as they met his, and the barest hint of a smile touched her lips.

Then shouts echoed from the lobby. The lights overhead switched in an instant to red, flooding the corridor with a deep, bloody colour, and a siren started to wail.