‘I know,’ he said sadly, wearily. ‘Or rather, the System knows. I had hoped . . .’ He looked over at Lucas, felt himself almost recoil at the lack of emotion on the younger man’s face. ‘A report has been generated. It means that Raffy will be leaving us.’
‘He’s to be made a K?’
‘That is what the System has decided,’ said the Brother gravely, putting his hands together as if in prayer, a habit that he had found impossible to break.
‘He will have a second New Baptism tonight?’
‘He will be taken tonight, yes, for the safety of everyone,’ the Brother replied, searching Lucas’s face for a sign of sadness, of anger – something that he could connect with. But of course there was nothing.
‘Very well. If the System has decided,’ Lucas said. ‘Is that all?’
‘That’s all,’ answered the Brother, not sure why he felt a stab of disappointment at Lucas’s lack of reaction.
Lucas went to the door and opened it, then he hesitated. ‘Brother?’ he asked, his voice tentative, something that rather took the Brother aback.
‘Yes, Lucas?’
‘Might I have one more night with Raphael? Might my mother?’
The Brother stared at him. So he did care, after all. ‘You’re asking me to delay the implementation of the System’s decision?’ he asked.
Lucas nodded slowly. ‘It is a great deal to ask, I know,’ he said, his voice catching slightly. ‘But it would mean a lot. To my mother.’ The Brother looked at him carefully. It
was
a lot to ask. It was unheard of. But one day would make no difference. And the Brother could finally see clouds in the brilliant sky; for some reason he felt cheered by this. Lucas was human. He was real, after all.
‘Tomorrow, then,’ he said.
‘Thank you.’ A smile. The first smile, perhaps, that had ever reached Lucas’s eyes. And then he was gone.
Slowly the Brother walked over to his desk, pulled out Raphael’s System change file and placed it in his drawer.
Evie knew Raffy wasn’t at work. Partly because she got there early and skulked around outside until she saw Lucas arrive on his own, and partly because she just knew. And she also knew he wasn’t ill. She’d heard whispers that he was under surveillance, that his brother had been charged with finding out what he knew. The rest, she filled in with imagination, fear, loathing of Lucas, and with the anger and frustration she felt at him, at everyone.
Because really, it was her fault. She should have stopped earlier. She should have been stronger. And now Raffy was . . . what? Locked away somewhere? Being tortured by Lucas, not because of some glitch in the System but because he had visited her, because Lucas had followed him, because Lucas didn’t care about feelings or family bonds or anything like that. Because he was cruel and angry and jealous.
On her way home, she passed Raffy’s house and was tempted to bang on the door, to demand to see him, but she knew it was pointless. She could no more bang on his door than she could choose not to marry Lucas, not to go to work, not to obey the City’s rules. She had to do what was expected of her, because that’s what everyone did. Unquestioningly. She wondered if everyone else who lived in the City found its rules as frustrating, whether everyone longed to break them and allow the temptations of desire and anger take them over. Were A’s A’s because they were naturally good or just because they had more self-control than everyone else? Did Lucas have urges that he had to control sometimes? Evie let out a hollow laugh. Lucas had never had urges or feelings, of that she was sure.
She got home to find her mother waiting for her in the kitchen, a pile of half-made clothes on the table, her sewing machine all set up next to it.
‘Evie,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Here you are at last. Belle was off today with the flu. I need your help to make up her quota.’
Evie stared at the pile. Before she’d started working for the government she had regularly helped her mother with her work, making clothes and bedlinen. She would come home from school and sew for an hour or two before helping her to prepare supper. Now that she was working ten-hour days, her mother never asked for her help. She never even seemed to bring work home any more.
‘Okay,’ she said, putting down her bag. After all, the only activity she had planned for that evening was to rage against Lucas and worry about Raffy.
‘Good. I’ll cook, you can sew. It will be like the old days.’
Evie washed her hands before sitting down at the table and reacquainting herself with the long-forgotten workings of her mother’s sewing machine. She did a few test runs to start with and was pleased she had; the first few times she pressed the pedal, she went too fast and her stitching went off track, but she quickly got back into the rhythm, and soon she was enjoying the gentle hum which seemed to soothe her as she concentrated on keeping a straight line.
‘Your father tells me that Lucas talked to you last night,’ her mother said after a few minutes of silence.
Evie didn’t reply. She had enjoyed not thinking about Lucas for a minute or two.
‘You are very lucky to be courted by such a good man,’ her mother continued, regardless. ‘I do hope you appreciate that, and that you make him feel he has made the right choice. That you are good enough for him.’
Evie stopped sewing, looked up at her mother. ‘You’re not concerned about whether he is good enough for me?’ she asked.
Her mother rolled her eyes. ‘Evie, don’t say such things, even in jest. You have done very well with Lucas. Very well.’
‘So you keep saying,’ Evie replied, pushing her chair back. She suddenly felt claustrophobic, like the warm kitchen that had felt so comforting seconds before was now slowly suffocating her.
‘I keep saying it because I’m not sure you appreciate it,’ her mother answered tightly. ‘I’m not sure you appreciate anything. You are lucky to even be here, Evie. Very lucky indeed.’ She was whisking something in a bowl; her hand started to move even more quickly and Evie found herself wondering what would happen if the bowl and all its contents went flying across the room. Then she realised she wasn’t wondering what would happen; she was hoping that it would.
Because she was evil. She acknowledged this with no emotion; it didn’t even upset her any more. It was just a fact. A fact she had accepted.
‘You think I should appreciate Lucas because he’s good. Because he’s an A,’ she said flatly.
Her mother put the bowl on the counter, moved to the other side of the table from Evie and sat down. ‘I think you should appreciate that you have a good marriage ahead of you. A good husband with good prospects. Not like . . .’
She didn’t finish the sentence, but Evie knew what she had been going to say.
‘Not like you?’ she asked, then stood up, anger flooding through her veins. She was tired of controlling her urges. She couldn’t do it any more. ‘Father loves you. He is a good man. A truly good man. His study is full of medals and trophies and he is well liked and respected. He is a holder of the key. But that’s not enough for you. I wish
you
would marry Lucas. I think you deserve each other.’ Leaving the sewing half done, she fled from the kitchen up to her room, ignoring her mother’s calls, then threats, then ultimatums that there would be no supper, no food until she apologised.
She wasn’t hungry anyway.
And there was no way she was going to apologise.
It was late, but Evie couldn’t sleep. Instead, she sat on her bed, trying to ignore the hunger pangs in her stomach, trying to rise above such mundane, unimportant things when there was so much else to make sense of and to worry about. Raffy, Lucas, her own future.
And yet it was something else that was at the forefront of her mind, that kept niggling, that wouldn’t leave her alone. Something her mother had said: ‘You are lucky to even be here.’
But where else would she be?
Evie looked out of her window. It was dark, silent; she could see houses, hundreds of houses just like hers, their lights glowing. She knew that inside, families just like hers would be sitting around tables, playing card games, reading the Sentiments. Good people. Productive people. She closed the curtains. How thick was the line between good and evil? she wondered. How close did the good people come to crossing it? Was it like a thin line on the ground that could be tripped over easily if you weren’t looking, or was it like a river that had to be actively crossed? If so, she would willingly cross the river, she realised, guided by Raffy. In fact, she already had.
The door opened and Evie looked up anxiously. It was her father. The moonlight danced on his face, revealing that his eyes were surrounded by dark shadows. He sat down at the end of her bed. ‘Evie,’ he said quietly. ‘I am sorry to disturb you so late.’
‘It’s okay,’ she said uncertainly, looking at the clock on her bedside table and feeling her stomach clench when she saw that it was nearly midnight. Her parents were usually asleep by 10 p.m. at the latest. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said then. ‘I’m sorry about what I said to Mother. I didn’t mean it.’
‘You argued with your mother?’ her father asked sadly.
‘Yes. I . . . I thought that’s why you wanted to talk to me,’ Evie said, frowning.
‘No,’ her father replied. ‘No, I have just come from a meeting with the key holders. Evil has been detected in the City, Evie. There is to be a second New Baptism.’
Evie felt a film of sweat cover her instantly. Was he talking about her? Had he come to tell her that she had been made a K? No, please no. She would change. She would . . . She realised her father was looking at her expectantly and she recovered herself.
‘Yes, father,’ she whispered.
‘Evie, there is something else.’
Evie felt a cloud of foreboding gather over her. It was the look on her father’s face. His hesitation. His unwillingness to look her in the eye. It
was
her. They were coming for her. She was the K. She started to shake.
‘Evie, I’m afraid that the evil one is . . . Raphael.’
Evie looked up in shock. ‘Raffy? No!’ She was shaking more violently now.
‘The System has decided,’ her father said gently. ‘It is not for us to judge. But I know that you and he . . .’ He took a deep breath. ‘You were friends once. You are marrying his brother. I want you to know that I am sure this won’t reflect badly on Lucas. He is a good man. I don’t want you to worry.’
‘You don’t want me to worry?’ Evie gasped. ‘Raffy isn’t evil. He isn’t. He—’
‘The Brother himself has told me that Lucas has been pivotal in collecting information for the System,’ her father said, putting his hand on her shoulder. ‘And I will not view him any differently just because he has been so close to evil. So go to sleep, Evie. Tomorrow will be a challenging day.’
Evie couldn’t speak; instead, she watched in silence as her father left the room, waited to hear his footsteps reach the bedroom he shared with her mother, and waited for the door to open then close again.
Then, her mind racing, she stood up, looked around her room frantically and started to pull on some clothes. She had to get to Raffy, had to warn him. She didn’t know how, but she’d do it somehow. If he had a second New Baptism she’d never see him again and she couldn’t bear that. They would run to the place Raffy told her about, away from this terrible City that purported to be full of good, but didn’t know what goodness was – how could it, when its idea of true goodness was Lucas, a man who would betray his own brother? Lucas was the one who was evil. He was beyond evil. He was . . .
She heard a sound, a tapping at the window, and she felt her body flood with relief. It was Raffy. He had escaped. He was here. He was safe. She pulled open her curtains, tugged at the window to open it. But when she did, her mouth fell open and the hairs stood up on the back of her neck. Because it was not Raffy she saw. It was two blue eyes, two vile emotionless eyes that met hers and her first instinct was to close the window again, to shut Lucas out, to push him from the wall he had climbed. But he was too quick for her; he grabbed her wrists, pushed her back, swung his legs though the window and landed in front of her.
‘Evie,’ he said, one eyebrow raised as he took in her half-dressed state. ‘Are you going somewhere?’
Evie opened her mouth to scream but nothing came out; Lucas immediately put his hand around her mouth, pulling her against him so that her back was against his chest. Then he leant down so that his mouth was next to her ear.
‘I want you to listen,’ he said, his voice low. ‘I want you to listen very carefully, Evie, do you understand? And I don’t want you to make a sound. Not a single sound.’
Evie nodded, her eyes wide, her body shaking. His hands were pressing into her; she felt unable to breathe. Was he going to take her to the Brother? Have her labelled a K, too? She told herself she didn’t care; that she wouldn’t let herself care. But she did care. She was terrified.
‘I need you to get me your father’s key,’ Lucas said. Evie felt her whole body tense. Her father’s key? She didn’t understand.
He released his hand slightly, allowing her to speak. ‘I won’t give you anything,’ she whispered angrily. ‘You betrayed Raffy. He isn’t a K. He can’t be.’
‘I know he isn’t,’ Lucas replied evenly. ‘That’s why I need the key. Raffy needs to get out of the City. And you’re going to help me.’
Evie started; she couldn’t have heard correctly. ‘I don’t understand,’ she managed to say. ‘I’m not sure I—’
‘You will understand. I’m going to let you go. If you make a noise, you will regret it.’
Evie nodded and Lucas released her, removing the hand from her mouth, turning her around so that she was facing him. And what she saw shocked her; it was Lucas, but not the Lucas she knew. His blue eyes were clouded, heavy; there was an urgency in them; pain. He reminded her of something . . . of someone. And immediately she realised who: Raffy. For the first time she understood that they were brothers; for the first time Lucas actually bore some resemblance to his sibling. But she still didn’t trust him. He was still Lucas. He was still the man who had betrayed Raffy.
‘You know what K stands for?’ Lucas asked her.
‘Raffy is not a K,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘He isn’t. What we did . . . It wasn’t evil. We didn’t mean to—’