Silver Shadows

CHAPTER 13 Sydney

CHARMING SALT WHILE in re-education was certainly more convoluted than it had been as a free woman, but it wasn’t impossible. It was just a slow and unwieldy process, smuggling out small amounts of salt and then getting private moments in the bathroom to infuse it with elements. What proved to be far more difficult was getting the syringes.

“Someone’s in the purging room almost every day, either because it’s routine or they did something,” said Emma, when I told her that would be the hardest part to pull off. “We’ll just put the word out that anyone who’s in there needs to smuggle out a syringe and get it to you.”

“Even if they’re able to successfully do that, the supervisors are going to eventually notice that many syringes going missing,” I pointed out. “And I’m not sure I want the ‘word out’ with everyone.”

She shook her head. “I’m not stupid. I’m only letting in select people I know we can trust, others who value their minds more than they do turning you in. They all know something went down with Jonah. They’ll keep your secret for the chance at getting that same protection for themselves.”

“That doesn’t really make me feel better,” I grumbled. My last encounter with Adrian had left me feeling optimistic for the future, but that didn’t mean the present wasn’t fraught with complications. “And it doesn’t solve the syringe issue.” We were almost at our next class, meaning this conversation was just about up.

“Too bad we can’t reuse them,” she mused.

I grimaced. “Ugh. This is already unsanitary enough, not having access to purified water.”

“What we need is free access to those supply closets on the purging level. You know where they are.”

“Yeah,” I said, in agreement. “There’s just the small problem of me never being able to get to them again, what with the massive security around here.”

She shrugged and smiled. “I didn’t say it was a perfect plan.”

“It’s no kind of plan.”

But the suggestion stirred in my mind as I went through the motions of my Alchemist schooling that day. Having talked to Adrian had lifted my spirits, as did knowing he’d be speaking to Carly soon. I hoped desperately that Keith would give them some lead to where I was. From there, I didn’t know exactly how they’d get me out, but I was already envisioning liberating the others here with me. If I could send them into the world free of mind control, it’d be a job well done.

I turned over Emma’s words in my head, trying to solve the jumble of problems before me. What I really needed was unfettered access to the floor with the supply closets, the ones Sheridan had made me organize. To get to them, I needed to move around unseen, which wasn’t easy but was actually easier than getting out of my room in the first place. Those night locks were a huge problem.

Although Emma—and a couple others—watched me eagerly throughout the day and were the ones most anxious for results, it was Duncan I finally broached the topic with in art class. He never spoke extensively about his past, but I’d gleaned some things that were important to him. The mysterious Chantal was one, of course, and he occasionally expounded on artistic pursuits before coming here. One thing he didn’t speak much about that I’d picked up on was his knack for mechanical devices. Someone had easel trouble on a daily basis, and Duncan was always the go-to person to adjust them. I’d even observed him helping our instructors, like the time Harrison’s projector stopped working.

“Do you know how the locks on our room doors work?” I asked that day. Still life was done for now, though Duncan had assured me it was a popular assignment and would be back. Now we were on to the tedious task of molding clay bowls by hand.

“They lock,” he said bluntly. “They stop the doors from opening.”

I tried not to roll my eyes. “I know that. I mean, do you know how—”

“Yes, yes, I know what you mean,” he interrupted. “And it isn’t something you should be worried about. You’re playing a dangerous enough game already.”

I peered around, but no one was listening to us as we worked at our table. “It’s not a game!” I hissed. “This is serious. I can stop others from being brainwashed. Like I did for Jonah.”

“And get yourself sent back to reflection time in the process.” A small frown between his eyebrows was the only outward sign of his discomfort. “I can’t handle another friend disappearing, Sydney.”

I had to take a moment to blink back tears as I remembered that he had been my first ally here, offering me friendship because of what he liked about me and not because of what I could potentially do for him.

“I won’t disappear,” I said, taking on a gentler tone. “But I need to get out of my room some night. Tonight, ideally. It’s important. I can help a lot of people.”

His bowl, much like his painting, was nearly perfect. I was beginning to wonder if that was some inherent skill or simply the result of having been here so long. “The locks are turned on by a central system each night,” he said at last. “It’s actually just a simple bolt shooting out from the door into the wall. It’s touchy. If there’s an obstacle, it won’t work.”

“Will it alert the central system that there’s a problem?” I asked.

“Not unless they’ve changed it in the last year. About, oh, eight months ago, someone’s door malfunctioned, and the powers-that-be never knew. They found out when one of the guys in the room made a break for it and tried to find an exit.”

That was useful—but also dangerous. “Did they fix it?”

“That particular door? Yes. But as far as I know, the bolt’s still touchy. Doesn’t matter much since even if the surveillance didn’t catch someone trying to block it, the cameras in the hall would detect—” Duncan suddenly shot me a pained look. “Please tell me you aren’t going to try to actually escape.”

“I’m staying here … for now.” I glanced down and lightly touched the ID badge clipped to my shirt. It was a little thinner than a credit card. “Something like this would work nicely to block the bolt.”

“Very nicely,” he agreed. “But remember there’s that tiny gap between the door and the wall, even when it’s slid closed. You can’t just stick that card in there.”

“I need some kind of adhesive to hold it there.” I racked my brain, trying to remember when I’d last seen glue around here. I hadn’t. But as my eyes rested on Addison’s desk, I found something even better. “Gum would work. I wouldn’t even need to use my card … I could just stick a clump over the bolt’s release, couldn’t I?”

Duncan chuckled in spite of himself. “Juvenile, but yes, you could.”

“Go ask her for help on something,” I said, inspired. “I’ll swipe the gum while you talk to her.”

“Sydney.” He pointed at my bowl and then his. “Which of you us do you think legitimately needs to ask her for help?”

I looked between them, noting that his could go straight in the kiln now and that half of mine was caving in on itself. “You don’t approve of my plan. I can’t ask you to steal the gum.”

“I don’t approve of illogical plans,” he said. “And it’s much more logical for you to go ask for help. Besides, I need another potter’s needle. This one’s dull.”

“They’re all dull,” I reminded him. Even for the sake of therapeutic art, the Alchemists didn’t leave anything around that might be used as a weapon. “But I’ll go ask.”

Addison always appeared annoyed at being asked questions, but at the same time, I could tell she kept track of who came and asked for help. I was one of a handful that would generally suffer great pains before seeking assistance from our superiors, and I knew some of them viewed us giving in and relying on them as a sign of us breaking down our resistance. So, although she still wore that perpetually unpleasant expression as she smacked her gum, she didn’t hesitate to advise me on why my bowl kept collapsing, and I had a feeling there would be new notes added to my record later on. As I spoke to her, I saw Duncan move toward her desk out of the corner of my eye. I nearly stopped breathing, terrified she’d turn around and see him.

But she didn’t, and five minutes later, when he and I reconvened at our table, he covertly slid me two sticks of gum. “Use it wisely,” he warned. “Or at least don’t do something completely stupid tonight. Please tell me you have a plan not to get caught once you’re out of your room. You know there are cameras in the halls.”

“I do have a plan,” I said hesitantly. “But I can’t tell you.”

“Hey, that’s good enough for me.”

Despite my anxiety over my daunting task, I was still feeling triumphant over this small victory. I was riding on a high and was totally unprepared to be knocked down when Sheridan turned to me in communion time and said, “Sydney, don’t you have something you’d like to tell us?”

I froze and could’ve sworn my heart skipped a few beats. My eyes darted around the circle of watching faces as I wondered which of them had betrayed me. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

“You’ve been with us for some time now,” she explained. “Yet you’ve spoken very little about your past. Every day, the others open up about themselves, but you keep to yourself. That’s not really fair, now is it?”

I wanted to tell her that it was really none of their business, but I knew I should be grateful I wasn’t on the hook here for more immediate crimes. “What would you like to know, ma’am?”

“Why don’t you tell us why you’re here?”

“I …” My earlier cockiness dried up. Masterminding plans to break out of my room by sabotaging the lock so that I could then create magical protection for my fellow detainees didn’t faze me nearly as much as the scrutiny of all those eyes. It didn’t matter how friendly I’d gotten with a few of them. I didn’t want to share my story.

But you have to play the game, Sydney, I reminded myself. It doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you win at the end.

I focused back on Sheridan. “I broke some of the cardinal rules of the Alchemists. I went against our basic beliefs.”

“How?” she prompted.

I took a deep breath. “Because I became romantically involved with a Moroi.”

My gaze stayed on Sheridan. I was afraid to look at the others because even though we were all rebels of sorts, there were varying degrees of sin around here—and mine was pretty extreme.

“Why?” Sheridan asked.

I frowned. “Ma’am?”

“Why did you become romantically involved with such a foul creature? That doesn’t just go against Alchemist beliefs. That goes against the rules of nature. Why would you do that?”

My heart had an answer ready, but I didn’t let it cross my lips. Because he’s wonderful and sensitive and funny. Because we bring out the best in each other and are better people because of our love. Because when we’re together, I feel like I understand my place in the world.

“I don’t know exactly,” I said, trying to find a believable answer that she would want to hear. “Because I thought I was in love.”

“With one of them?” she asked. The tone in her voice when she said them made me want to slap her.

“He didn’t seem like one of them,” I said instead. “He seemed very kind and very charming. He was … is very good at compulsion. I don’t know if that’s part of what happened to me. Maybe I was just weak.”

“Don’t you feel ashamed?” she prodded. “Don’t you feel dirty and used up? Even if you graduate from here, do you think any of your own kind would ever want to touch you after letting yourself be used like that?”

That took me aback for a moment because it echoed so closely the fears Carly had once had when justifying why she couldn’t tell anyone about what Keith had done to her. I should’ve given some contrite response, but instead I answered Sheridan with a variation of what I’d told Carly. “I’d hope that whomever I’m with next will see me and value me for the person I am inside. None of the rest will matter.”

Sheridan’s expression turned to one of pity. “I don’t think you’ll ever find anyone like that.”

I already have, I thought. And he’s coming to get me out of here and away from you.

Aloud, I said simply, “I don’t know, ma’am.” Admitting your own ignorance was always a safe bet around here.

“Well,” she said, “let’s hope you’re less delusional about vampires than you are about how you’ve sullied yourself. How do you feel about him now?”

I knew better than to even breathe the truth on that. “He betrayed me,” I said simply. “He was supposed to meet me the night I was brought here, and he never showed. I was deceived.”

It was a lie none of them could disprove. In fact, no Alchemist really knew entirely what I’d been doing the night I was taken. Let them think they’d thwarted some reunion with Adrian and me, thus helping turn me against him.

“That’s what they do, Sydney,” Sheridan said, looking very pleased. “They deceive.”

When we disbanded, I noticed a few of my fellow detainees—some of whom I thought I’d made strides with—physically avoiding me as they had in the early days. “What’s that about?” I muttered to Emma, who was walking near me.

“Sheridan helped remind them of how tainted you are,” she explained.

My heart sank a little as I gazed after them. “Do they really believe that? I thought some of them …”

I couldn’t finish, but Emma knew my thoughts. “Were just playing along to survive here? Some are, but even if they haven’t been reprogrammed, they’ve learned enough to survive here. And part of survival is steering clear from people who’ll get you in trouble. You crossed a line—no, you trampled it, and even if they think what you did is okay, they know they can’t let Sheridan and the others think so.”

“What do you think?” I asked.

She gave me a tight smile. “I think you and your ink are a good precaution in case they ever try to mess with my mind. But I’m also going to keep my distance. See you later.”

She hurried off, and I spent the rest of the day formulating my plan, wishing it was more solid than it was. When I was in the bathroom that evening, I popped one of Addison’s gum sticks into my mouth, chewing until I hoped I’d mustered up a sticky enough result. I kept it in my hand as I left and then brushed my hand against the door as I entered my room, right over the place the bolt entered. I hoped the system was as touchy as Duncan had claimed and that the one piece had been enough. I’d nearly used both but thought a second might be useful in the future. I slipped it into my sock.

Later, when the lights went out, I heard a click at the door but didn’t know if it had been successful. I crept out of bed and tentatively approached the slit of light, waiting and listening to make sure no one was outside. They weren’t. Gingerly, I tried to slide the door open a crack … and succeeded. The bolt hadn’t worked! I exhaled a deep breath and braced myself for the next part of the task: getting out unseen.

I’d used invisibility spells in the past, once even to break into an Alchemist facility, which seemed ironic in my current situation. They weren’t easy, otherwise—as Ms. Terwilliger had noted—everyone would use them. The best coverage required a lot of spell components and ideally an amulet. Even then, the spell would often be unraveled if someone knew to look for you. I had nothing to aid me here, only the knowledge of a small spell and my own power to pull it off. It would last thirty minutes at most and be susceptible to anyone searching for me or who looked me directly in the eye. It would protect me from cameras, however, and my big gamble was that the halls would be deserted this time of night, when our masters thought we were all locked in and drugged.

I didn’t know what kind of shifts the Alchemists pulled, but I had to assume personnel would thin out later. So I sat back on my bed for a half hour, hoping by then that everyone would have settled down for a quiet night. Before returning to the door, I stuffed my pillow under the covers. Between that and the near darkness, I hoped it wouldn’t be obvious that the bed was empty to anyone glancing at the surveillance screens. At the door, I murmured the incantation as quietly as I could, not wanting to tip Emma off to my true nature. Meaning and focus were more important than volume, and I felt another exhilarating surge of power course through me as I finished speaking. The spell, such as it was, had worked, and now the clock was ticking. After again making sure no one was in the hall, I slowly slid the door open, just enough to slip through, and then closed it again. That was one of the other difficult parts of invisibility spells: just because you were invisible, it didn’t mean your actions were. Someone seeing a door open by itself would give me away just as much as bumping into a person, so I had to make sure all my movements were small and cautious, attracting as little attention as possible.

The dorm hall was empty, with only the cameras keeping sentry, and I hurried toward the nexus where other corridors intersected. There, I found my first Alchemist on guard duty, a hard-faced man I’d never seen before who was texting on his phone as he stood stationed in a spot that let him supervise all the halls. He never looked up as I moved quietly and slowly past him, turning down the hall that led to the elevators. It was still amazing to me that the only exit off the floor didn’t even lead outside in an emergency, but I supposed the Alchemists felt it was better to risk our lives than give us more escape points.

When I reached the elevators, I realized they’d taken precautions there too—precautions that I’d completely let slip my mind. You couldn’t even push the button for the elevator without first scanning your ID card. I’d seen our Alchemist jailers do it many times, but I’d left it out of my plan. The elevator was inaccessible to me, as was the similarly access-controlled stairwell next to it. Otherwise, we detainees would’ve constantly been trying to use them. As I stood staring, trying to find a work-around, a ding indicated the elevator’s arrival and that the doors were about to open. I hastily stepped to the side and out of direct sight. A moment later, the elevator opened and Sheridan came out.

Without hesitation, I slipped in after her while the doors were still open, praying the elevator would still function from the last swipe of her ID card. If not, I might be stuck in it for a very long time. Luck was with me, and the button for the operations and purging floor lit up when I pushed it. I moved down a floor, and the doors opened to an empty corridor. I hurried out and tried not to think about how I was going to be able to use the elevator again.

I remembered where the supply closets were, but when I reached them, I discovered something I hadn’t noticed before: They too required a keycard to open them. Sheridan must’ve unlocked them ahead of our visit before, but now I was out of luck. Time was slipping away on my spell, and I was getting nowhere fast. Sadly, I accepted that I’d probably have to return to my room and try again with a better plan tomorrow. At least I still had that second stick of gum.

Laughter jerked my attention from the medical supply closet, and I saw two Alchemists round the corner and come walking down the hall—in my direction. Panicked, I flattened myself against the wall. There were no nearby corners or nooks to duck into. If luck was on my side, the twosome wouldn’t walk past me at all. If they did, I’d have to hope looking down would save me from eye contact and detection. For all I knew, that might not be enough.

The two of them stopped in front of the operations room, and I started to breathe a sigh of relief until an idea came to me and I realized I might be missing a golden opportunity. I sprinted toward the room they walked into and just managed to make it inside before the door—an automatic pocket one—slid closed. I froze and held my breath, terrified someone would notice me, but the two Alchemists I’d followed never even turned around. The only other person in there was a bored-looking guy in headphones, who was eating yogurt near a wall of monitors. The majority of the monitors were dark, and I realized those were the displays from our bedrooms. The other monitors showed classrooms and halls, most of which were empty.

Desks and computers filled the room, and I prowled around, again struck by a sense of déjà vu for the time I’d conducted similar activities in an Alchemist facility. Only then I’d had a much more reliable invisibility spell to fall back on. Still feeling determined, I searched around until I found what I’d hoped for. The guy eating the yogurt had taken off his suit coat and draped it on a chair. Clipped to the coat’s pocket was his ID badge. I had no idea if some badges had more access than others, but at the very least, this would get me back on the elevator before my spell wore off. I pilfered the ID from his coat while his back was to me and slipped it into the waistband of my pants. I’d thought at first when I saw his headphones he was monitoring sound surveillance, but being that close to him, I realized he was actually listening to some kind of metal band. I wondered how that would fly with his superiors.

Regardless, it was good news for me, as was the fact that the two people I’d followed in were huddled over some computers and chatting loudly. I was pretty sure I could slip out, and no one would really notice the door opening. Before I could make my way back, however, I saw something new that made me hesitate and then walk the opposite direction. It was a touchscreen panel in the wall labeled sedation control. Current readouts indicated that the system was on nighttime settings, and every region of the detainee living quarters was listed: bedrooms, halls, cafeteria, and classrooms. All bedrooms were labeled 27 percent, with the rest of the rooms at 0 percent.

The gas levels, I realized. When I’d been in isolation, I’d gotten the impression they were controlling my cell manually, which made sense since they would knock me out instantly if the conversation wasn’t going their way. From this display, however, it was clear the regular detainees were modulated by a central, automatic system that piped in the correct level to keep us heavily asleep each night. Three options at the bottom of the touchscreen suggested there was occasionally a need for manual intervention: OVERRIDE—STOP ALL SYSTEMS, RESET, AND EMERGENCY PROTOCOL—ALL REGIONS 42 PERCENT.

For a moment, it was simply the number that was staggering. If the normal 27 percent sedative concentration sent us into a heavy sleep, what would 42 percent do? I knew almost instantly. That much sedative piped in would knock us out in the blink of an eye. There’d be no drifting off into heavy slumber. We’d keel over where we were standing and practically be in comas—which would be very useful if there was ever any sort of mass escape.

I didn’t know exactly what Adrian and Marcus might be able to pull off when they found me, but I knew this could cause some serious kinks in the plan. Disabling the gas in my own room wasn’t going to be good enough. I need to kill it for the whole floor, and that was no small feat. Turning it off here was pointless when the touch of a finger would bring it right back. Somewhere, there had to be a more mechanical system I could interfere with.

That wasn’t a problem I could focus on tonight, though. With a last lingering look at the panel, I hurried away and slipped out the door, unnoticed as I’d expected. From there, it was a hasty trip to the supply closets. Like all the other doors I’d encountered, I opened them as little as possible, allowing me to slip inside each one and gather what I needed where there was no surveillance. I soon had two bottles of purified water tucked into my waistband and a dozen wrapped and capped syringes hidden variously in my socks and bra. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I needed everything to remain under my clothing to be covered by the spell. My surprise find of the night was that extra condiments were also kept in the food supply closet: ketchup, mustard, and—salt. I’d planned on smuggling out small amounts throughout the week, but one stolen shaker from the closet solved that problem.

Laden down with my stolen goods, I made my way back to the elevator. Having seen how relaxed the night surveillance was in the control room, I was no longer as worried about them noticing doors opening small amounts by themselves on-screen as I had been. When I reached the detainee living floor, however, the texting guard came walking down the hall when he heard the elevator and saw no one come out. I pressed against the wall again, frozen and looking down as he passed me. He stopped a few feet away from me and stared at the elevator with a frown while I held my breath. Even if he didn’t make eye contact, my spell had to be on its last leg.

After several agonizing seconds, he finally shrugged and returned to his post. I moved passed him, mercifully unnoticed, and finally made it back to my room, where I nearly fainted in relief. There, I carefully concealed all my contraband in the pocket formed between my mattress and its sheet. They made us change our own bedding once a week, and we’d done it two days ago. That meant I had five days to use up all my supplies before running the risk of someone noticing syringes falling out of my mattress sheet on laundry day.

Weak with relief, I finally crawled into my covers. Despite feeling weary in body, my mind was worked up and agitated from tonight’s sleuthing. It took me a while to fall asleep, and I knew Adrian would worry.

Sure enough, when I materialized in the Getty Villa’s courtyard, I saw him pacing back and forth. He turned abruptly toward me when I said his name.

“Thank God, Sydney.” He hurried over and swept me into his arms. “You have no idea how worried I was when you weren’t here at the usual time.”

“Sorry,” I said, holding him tightly. “I had some errands to do.”

He pulled back and gave me a knowing look. “What kind of errands?”

“Oh, you know, the kind that involve breaking and entering and magic use.”

“Sydney,” he groaned. “We’re getting closer to finding you. You need to just lay low. Do you realize how dangerous it is to be off prowling on these ‘errands’ of yours?”

“I do,” I said, thinking back to the gas control panel. “And so you’re not going to be happy when I tell you that I’m going to have to do it again soon.”