Silver Shadows

CHAPTER 9 Sydney

HOW COULD ADRIAN HAVE NOT come for me? Was it possible enough gas had gotten in to mess with my system after all? I knew there was no way he would give up on me. He had to be searching. If he hadn’t come to my dreams that night, there was a good reason.

The problem was, he didn’t come the night after that. Or the next.

Things had gotten worse when Emma had grilled me the morning after I’d disabled the gas, wanting to know if I’d had any luck in getting the outside help I’d promised. She’d been joined by Amelia, who, I learned, had been my distraction. Our rooms were apparently monitored from a control center with lots of screens. Upon Emma’s instructions, Amelia had staged an argument with her roommate, saying incriminating things that had been picked up by the surveillance team. Amelia had been especially unruly, and, they told me, had occupied the full attention of those monitoring the rooms on camera so that they missed my little performance.

“I needed a big block of sleep for my plan to work,” I had told them, after explaining that I hadn’t been successful. “It took me a while to doze off last night, so maybe it was too short. It’ll work better tonight.”

Both Amelia and Emma had looked disappointed but also hopeful. They believed in me. They barely knew me, but both were convinced I had a way to help them.

That had been five days ago.

Now their looks of hope were gone—and replaced by ones of animosity.

I didn’t know what was wrong. I didn’t know why Adrian wasn’t coming. Panic rose in me, that something had happened to him and that he was unable to walk in dreams anymore. Maybe he was still on his prescription … but no, I was certain that he would have gone off it an effort to try to find me. Was it possible the pills had caused permanent damage to his ability to use spirit? I couldn’t ponder it for long because my life in re-education had taken a definite turn for the worst.

Emma and especially Amelia, who’d been sent to purging for her distraction, felt played. They didn’t tell anyone else what had happened, lest it incriminate themselves, but they made it known through subtle group signals that I was on the outs. They ignored my pleas that help would come, and I soon found myself eating alone in the cafeteria. Others who’d started to warm up in their standoffish behavior resumed old habits with a fury, and everything I did was scrutinized and reported to our superiors—who sent me to purging twice more that week.

Only Duncan remained my friend, in his way, but even that was tainted a little. “I warned you,” he said in art class one day. “I warned you not to mess things up. I don’t know what you did, but you’ve definitely undone all your progress.”

“I had to,” I said. “I had to take a chance on something, something that I know will pay off.”

“Do you?” he asked sadly, in a voice that said he’d seen similar attempts many, many times.

“Yes,” I said fiercely. “It’ll pay off.”

He gave me an amiable smile and returned to his painting, but I could tell he believed I was lying. The awful thing was, I didn’t know if he was right.

All the while, I held out hope that I would connect to Adrian in the world of dreams. I didn’t understand why it hadn’t happened yet, but I never doubted for a moment that he was out there still loving me and looking for me. If something was truly interfering with our dreams, I was certain he’d find another way to get to me.

A week after I’d disabled the gas, the re-education status quo was shaken up when a newcomer joined us. “That’s good news for you,” Duncan told me in the hall. “The attention’ll shift to her for a while, so don’t get too friendly.”

That was hard advice to follow, especially when I saw her sitting alone at a cafeteria table for breakfast. A warning look from Duncan reluctantly sent me to my own table, where I felt foolish and cowardly for letting both the new girl and me suffer being ostracized. Her name was Renee, and she appeared to be my age, if not a year or so younger. She also seemed to be someone I could’ve bonded with pretty easily since, like me, she was sent off to purging during our first class for talking back to the teacher.

Unlike me, however, Renee returned later looking pale and ill—but not cowed. In some ways, I admired that. She was still worn from her time in solitary but carried a rebellious spark in her eyes that showed promising strength and courage. Here’s someone I can ally with, I thought. When I mentioned this to Duncan in art class, he was quick to chastise me.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “She’s too new, too conspicuous. And she’s not making things easy on herself.”

He had a point. Although she’d apparently learned enough not to blatantly talk back anymore, she made no attempt to look contrite or act as though she had any intention of buying what the Alchemists were selling. She seemed to exalt in her exclusion from the others, ignoring me when I daringly offered a friendly smile in the halls. She sat sullenly through our classes, glaring with anger and defiance at both students and instructors alike.

“I’m kind of surprised she got out of reflection time already,” Duncan added. “Somebody messed up.”

“That’s why she needs a friend more than ever,” I insisted. “She needs someone to tell her, ‘Look, it’s okay to feel this way, but you’ve got to lay low for a while.’ Otherwise, they’re going to send her back.”

He shook his head warningly. “Don’t do it. Don’t get mixed up in that, especially since her arrival means you’ll move up soon. Besides, they’re not going to send her back to her cell.”

There was an ominous note in his voice he wouldn’t explain, and against my better judgment, I kept my distance for the rest of the day. When morning came—still with no contact from Adrian—I resolved to sit with Renee and not give in to peer pressure. That plan was delayed when one of Duncan’s regular tablemates invited me to join them. I stood there uncertainly, holding my tray as I glanced between Renee and Duncan’s tables. Going to her seemed like the right thing to do, but how could I turn down the first chance at bonding with the others that I’d had in a while? Resisting my better instincts, I headed toward Duncan’s table, vowing I’d remedy things with Renee later.

Later never came.

Apparently, after a day of letting her resentment seethe within her, Renee couldn’t take it anymore and snapped during third period, going off on an even longer tirade than yesterday about our instructor’s closed-minded propaganda. Security hauled her off, and I felt a wave of sympathy that she had to endure purging two days in a row so soon out of solitary. Duncan met my eyes as she was led from the room, with an I told you so look on his face.

When lunchtime came around, I expected a last-minute change to the menu to reflect one of Renee’s favorite foods and add insult to the injury of her punishment. The posted menu showed the same thing that was listed this morning, however, and I wondered if she’d gotten off the hook or simply had the unfortunate luck to already have chicken strips as one of her favorite foods. But when Renee entered the cafeteria, long after the rest of us were seated and eating, I forgot all about the menu.

Gone was that defiant glint in her eyes. There was no sparkle to them at all as she stared around in confusion, looking as though she’d never seen this room, let alone any cafeteria, before. Her facial expression was equally bland, almost slack-jawed. She stood just inside the doorway, making no attempts to enter or get food, and no one bothered to help her.

Beside me, a detainee named Elsa caught her breath. “I thought that might happen.”

“What?” I asked, totally lost. “Was it a bad purging?”

“Worse,” said Elsa. “Re-inking.”

I thought back to my own experiences, wondering how that could be worse, since we were all re-inked at some point here. “Wasn’t she re-inked already when she got out of solitary?”

“A standard re-inking,” said another of my tablemates, a guy named Jonah. “Obviously, that wasn’t enough, so they super-sized it—maybe a little too much. It happens sometimes. It gets the message through to them, but it leaves them kind of dazed and forgetful about ordinary life for a while.”

A feeling of horror crept over me. This was what I’d feared, why I’d worked to create a magical ink that would fight the effects of the Alchemists’ compulsion. I’d seen that lifeless stare before—in Keith. When he’d been fresh out of re-education, he too had acted like a zombie, unable to do anything except parrot back the rhetoric the Alchemists had drilled into him. At least by that point, however, Keith had been able to handle the daily functions of life. Had he initially emerged that wiped? It was awful to behold. Even more awful was the fact that no one showed any sign of helping her.

I was out of my seat in a flash, ignoring the sharp intake of breath from Duncan behind me.

I hurried over to Renee and took hold of her arm, guiding her inside the room. “Come in,” I said, focusing on her so that I wouldn’t have to see I had the attention of every single person in the room. “Don’t you want to get some food?”

Renee’s gaze stared blankly ahead for several seconds and then slowly turned to me. “I don’t know. Do you think I should?”

“Are you hungry?” I asked.

A small frown appeared between her eyebrows. “Do you think I am? If you don’t think so …”

I steered her toward Baxter’s window. “I think you should be whatever you want to be,” I said firmly. She said nothing to the chef when we reached him, and as usual, he wasn’t forthcoming, so it was on me. “Renee needs some lunch.”

Baxter didn’t respond immediately, and I almost wondered if he might not act unless she specifically asked for food. If so, we could be standing here for a while. But after a few more moments of indecision, he turned away and began making up a tray of chicken strips. I carried it to an empty table for her and pulled out a chair, gesturing to her to sit. She seemed to respond well to a command like that, even unspoken, but made no attempts to do anything on her own once I sat down opposite her.

“You can eat if you want,” I said. When that elicited nothing, I changed my wording. “Eat your chicken, Renee.”

She obediently picked up a chicken strip and began working her way through the tray while I looked on with a growing sense of dread. Dread—and anger. Did the Alchemists really think this was a better alternative than someone questioning authority? Even if the most severe of the effects wore off over time, it was still sickening that they could do this to another human being. When I’d discovered I was protected from re-inking, I’d thought I was home free in that regard. And it was true: I was. But everyone around me, whether they were friend or foe, was at risk if the Alchemists went overboard with their re-inking. It didn’t matter if this extreme of an effect was a rarity. Even if it only happened one time, that was one time too many.

“Drink your milk,” I ordered when I realized she’d finished the chicken and was just staring at her plate again. She was halfway through the carton when the chimes rang. “Time to go, Renee. That sound means we have to go somewhere else.”

She stood as I did, and I looked up to see two of Sheridan’s henchmen approaching. “You need to come with us,” one of them told me.

I started to comply and then saw Renee’s helpless expression. Ignoring my escort’s urging, I turned to her and said, “Follow along and do what the others do. See how they’re putting their trays away now? Do that, and then go with them to the next class.” One of the guards tugged my arm to move, and I resisted until I saw Renee nod and join the others with her tray. Only then did I let the duo lead me out, and they didn’t look pleased at all by my small act of defiance.

They led me to the elevator and then down one level, to the floor where purging took place. I wondered if not finishing my own lunch would make that experience more or less unpleasant. To my surprise, though, we walked past the usual door and kept going to the end of the hall, where I’d never been. We passed closets labeled respectively as kitchen and office supplies and then continued on to doors that were ominously unmarked. It was into one of these that they took me.

This new room looked like the usual purging ones, save that the chair had strange arms on it. They were larger than the ones I was used to but still had restraints on them, which was all that mattered. Maybe this was the new upgraded model from wherever they got their torture devices from. Sheridan was waiting in the room for us, holding a small remote control. The guards strapped me into the chair and then, at a nod from her, left us alone.

“Well, hello, Sydney,” she said. “I must say, I’m disappointed to see you in trouble.”

“Are you, ma’am? I’ve been in purging a few times this week,” I replied, thinking of how the others had been incriminating me recently.

Sheridan made a dismissive gesture with her hand. “That? Come on, we both know it’s just the others playing their games. You’ve actually been doing remarkably well—until now.”

A spark of my earlier anger returned. Sheridan and the other authorities were well aware of when someone legitimately stepped out of line compared to when that person was simply being ganged up on. And she didn’t care.

I swallowed my rage and put on a polite face. “What exactly did I do, ma’am?”

“Do you understand what happened to Renee today, Sydney?”

“I heard she was re-inked,” I said carefully.

“The others told you that.”

“Yes.”

“And did they also tell you not to help her when she returned?”

I hesitated. “Not explicitly. But they made it clear in their actions they weren’t going to.”

“And don’t you think you should have followed their lead?” she pushed.

“Begging your pardon, ma’am,” I said, “but I thought my duty was to follow your instructions, not those of my fellow residents. Since neither you nor any other instructor told me not to help Renee, I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong. In fact, I thought acting compassionately toward another human was something right. I apologize if I misunderstood.”

She scrutinized me for a long time, and I met her gaze unblinkingly. “You say all the right things, but I wonder if you mean them. Well, then. Let’s get started.”

With a push of the button, the screen came on, showing a typical picture of happy Moroi.

“What do you see, Sydney?”

I frowned, realizing she’d forgotten to inject me with the nausea-inducing drug. I certainly wasn’t going to call her attention to it, though. “Moroi, ma’am.”

“Wrong. You see creatures of evil.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I said nothing.

“You see creatures of evil,” she repeated.

This new turn of events left me uncertain how to proceed. “I don’t know. Maybe they are. I’d have to know more about these particular Moroi.”

“You don’t need to know anything except what I’ve told you. They are creatures of evil.”

“If you say so, ma’am,” I said cautiously.

Her face remained tranquil. “I need you to say so. Repeat after me: ‘I see creatures of evil.’”

I stared at the Moroi in the picture. It showed two girls, close to my age, who looked like they might be sisters. They were smiling and holding ice cream cones. Nothing about them looked evil at all, unless they were about to force that ice cream on some diabetic children. As I mulled this over, the armrest on my right suddenly clicked. The top of it slid back, revealing a hollowed out compartment below that was filled with some sort of clear liquid.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“Do you see creatures of evil?” Sheridan said by way of answer.

I must have taken too long to answer, and Sheridan pushed a button on the remote control. The restraints that held my arm in place suddenly began to move, lowering my arm down. It stopped just as the bottom of my arm grazed that liquid and then began raising my arm back up.

Grazing was all that was required, however. I cried out in pain and surprise as a burning sensation spread over where my skin had touched the liquid’s surface. Whatever chemical was in it made it feel as though I’d just touched a pot of boiling water, searing my exposed flesh. Once my arm was away from the liquid, the pain began to slowly ebb away.

“Now then,” said Sheridan, far too sweetly after what she’d just done. “Say ‘I see creatures of evil.’”

She didn’t even give me a chance to respond before repeating the same procedure, letting my arm stay down a bit longer than before. Despite that, I was more prepared and managed to bite my lip to stop from crying out. The pain was there all the same, and I exhaled in relief when after a few moments, she raised my arm up and allowed me a small recovery.

It was short-lived, and she soon said, “Now say—”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish. “I see creatures of evil,” I responded quickly.

Triumph lit her features. “Excellent. Now let’s try a different one.” A new image came, this one showing a group of Moroi schoolchildren. “What do you see?”

I was a fast learner. “I see creatures of evil,” I said promptly. It was ridiculous, of course. There was nothing evil about these Moroi or the subsequent pictures she then began showing me. I’d vowed to myself in solitary that I’d play whatever games it took to get me out of here, and if she needed me to parrot back this lie in order to make up for helping Renee, I’d gladly do it.

A Moroi couple, more children, an old man … on it went. Sheridan flipped through face after face, and I responded accordingly. “I see creatures of evil. I see creatures of evil. I see—”

My words fell short as I stared up at two more Moroi—two Moroi I knew.

Adrian and Jill.

I had no idea where she’d gotten the picture, and I didn’t care. My heart leapt as I looked into their smiling faces, faces I loved and had missed so terribly. I’d imagined their faces countless times, but there was no substituting the actual image. I took in every detail: the way the light played off Adrian’s hair, the way Jill’s lips curved in a shy smile. I had to swallow back a wave of emotion welling up within me. Maybe Sheridan had meant to punish me by showing them, but it actually came off as more of a reward—until she spoke again.

“What do you see, Sydney?”

I opened my mouth, ready to recite that inane line, but I couldn’t do it. Looking into those beloved faces, their eyes sparkling with happiness … I couldn’t do it. Even telling myself it was lie, I couldn’t bring myself to condemn Adrian and Jill.

Sheridan wasted no time in acting. The chair’s device lowered my arm into the liquid, farther than it had before, so that my arm was immersed about halfway. The shock of it caught me off guard, and it was made worse by her leaving my arm there even longer than before. Whatever acid was in that concoction burned my skin, setting every nerve on fire. I yelped at the pain, and even after she raised my arm, I still found myself whimpering as the effects lingered.

“What do you see, Sydney?”

I blinked back tears of pain and focused on Adrian and Jill. Just say it, I told myself. You need to get out of here. You need to get back to them. At the same time, I suddenly wondered, Is this how it starts? How I become like Keith? Would I start off by telling myself that what I said was okay, so long as I knew it was a lie being used to avoid pain? Would that lie eventually become truth?

At my silence, Sheridan lowered my arm again, dipping it even more than before. “Say it,” she said, her voice devoid of any human emotion. “Tell me what you see.”

A low moan of pain escaped my lips, but that was it. Internally, I tried to give myself a pep talk: I won’t say it. I won’t betray Adrian and Jill, even with empty words. I thought if I could just withstand the pain a little longer, she’d give me a reprieve like before, but instead, she lowered my arm even farther so that it was completely immersed in the liquid. I screamed as I felt it sear my skin. Glancing down, I expected to see my flesh peeling away, but my arm and hand only looked pink. Whatever this compound was, it was designed to feel like it was causing more damage than it was.

“Tell me what you see, Sydney. Tell me what you see, and I’ll end it.”

I tried to fight against the pain, but it was impossible when I felt like I was being burned alive.

“Tell me what you see, Sydney.”

The pain built and built the longer my arm stayed submerged, and finally, feeling like a traitor as I met the eyes of those I loved, I blurted out, “I see creatures of evil.”

“I didn’t hear that,” she replied calmly. “Say it more loudly.”

“I see creatures of evil!” I yelled.

She touched the remote, and my arm was lifted and released from its liquid torture. I started to breathe a sigh of relief, and then suddenly, without a word of warning, she dunked my arm again. I screamed at the pain, which lasted about ten more seconds until she brought my arm up again.

“What are you doing?” I exclaimed. “I thought you said—”

“That’s the problem,” she interrupted. Through some silent command, her henchmen returned and began unfastening my restraints. “You thought. Just like you thought it was okay to help Renee. The only thing you need to be doing is what you’re told. Do you understand?”

I glanced down at my arm, which was a dark, angry pink but in no way showed the true extent of what I’d just undergone. I then looked back up at Adrian and Jill, feeling guilty for my weakness. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Excellent,” Sheridan said, setting the remote down. “Then let’s get off to your next class, shall we?”