The Reformation Read online

  So Z sat there, glumly chewing on his bread, the fresh food which was so appealing only 5 minutes ago, now so tasteless. The others probably thinking the same thing, given their complete lack of appetite.

  8 people around a heavy wooden table. And that wretched wig too.

  Six

  JAX had given them the afternoon off. Honestly, with a morning like that, it was a refreshing break for Z.

  The horror on Nox’s face after Paris’ betrayal was what stuck to Z; she was so hurt and utterly shocked that someone that she had trusted, would ever do that. It was that image that was seared into the backs of Z’s eyelids—every time he pressed shut his eyes, he could see the vivid image of her mouth into a perfect ‘o’, eyes as wide as saucers, the green a sliver behind her dilated pupils.

  Z shuddered as he stepped into the elevator, remembering what happened. With the rest of the day off, he figured he might as well try to talk to the others to find out a bit more about them. He was just about to start with Celine, hopefully being able to comfort her about her father-disownment predicament, when she said that she was going to go up the stairs instead of the elevator, and that they could meet up afterwards. So Z stood in the elevator, watching the number on top of the doors blink to a 2, then abruptly stop. It didn’t concern him, how slow and rickety the ride was. After taking the elevator several times over the course of these two days, he realized just how bad of a shape the elevator was in, and he was sure that with a few new cables, some improvement in the speed governor, and a bit of greasing up, and he was positive that the ride would have been more comfortable.

  Hell, if they threw in some new lighting, the ride would be much better. But Z had noticed that it wasn’t just the elevator that needed improvement. The conditions of the palace were beautiful, every inch spic and span. But it was the machinery that Z noticed, and he noted that they were only slightly better than the technology accessible in New London.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden jolting of the elevator, which had come to a stop, its door opening slowly to reveal Jax’s secretary. She gave Z a quick nod, before stepping inside, to which he gave a smile. She was unusually formal when compared to Jax; her prim and properly pressed formal dresses and heels that clicked on the tile floors compared to the king’s disheveled hair and equally as ruined clothes, and nothing that indicated that he was the next king of the House Gallagher—other than his dark hair and blue eyes.

  “Areya, wasn’t it?”

  She gave him a warm smile, small and tight, but friendly nonetheless. “Yes, Mister Z.”

  “Mister Z. Damn. There’s no need to call me that, though it’s fine if you drop a little Mister around the rest,” he laughed, and so did she, her polite laugh amusing Z even more. “I’m sorry, I make far too many jokes.”

  “But are they of quality?”

  “I suppose that’s the problem isn’t-” The lights flickered, the platform coming to a once again jolting halt. But this wasn’t to let Z go to the third floor; despite the only two floor difference, it was too soon. No, this time, the elevator stopped completely, the lights flickering out. Within seconds, Z could only make out Areya’s face through the faint glow of the emergency button, which was currently blaring.

  “The elevator broke down.”

  “Yes, it has,” Z looked at her suddenly, surprised by her nonchalant tone.

  “Does this happen often?”

  “Not too much, but it has.” She looked worried, all of the sudden. “Wait, you aren’t claustrophobic like Miss Hollingsworth, are you?”

  Z bi his lips as the realization dawned on him, that that’s likely why Celine choose not to use the elevators earlier. “No, I’m not,” he informed Areya, immediately feeling bad for asking Celine earlier.

  “You weren’t aware?” Areya asked, and Z slowly shook his head. “You could use this time on catching up then, couldn’t you?”

  “I’m learning about one more person, aren’t I? So are you King Jax’s advisor, or-”

  “Secretary; though he might argue otherwise. I really don’t do much.”

  “I get the impression that he isn’t the neatest.”

  “Then you read people properly, Mister Z.”

  “What did I say about Mister?”

  “Nothing I will pay heed to, though you can continue to say it, hoping I might yield. I won’t.”

  “Okay, seeing as we might be stuck here for some time, why don’t you tell me a little about yourself?”

  “Alright. My name is Areya Carson. I’m 17-”

  “You have the maturity of someone much older,” Z interrupted.

  “Thank you, Mister Z. I haven’t been doing this job for that long, only since King Calix’s development of Scorchen, though it honestly feels like I’ve been doing it forever. In a good way,” she hurriedly added.

  “You decided you wanted to work in the palace?”

  “My family was taken by-” she paused, “-the Immortales. I’ve been trying to get by, so really this was a stroke of luck.”

  “Oh.”

  She smiled kindly, head tilted to the side. “That’s me, so what about you?”

  “I’m a bit fuzzy with my memory before the age of 14,” Something flickered across her face. “I got into an accident, where I lost a lot of blood, but I got some donated blood-”

  “Excuse my interruption, but wasn’t that a Second Era practice? I wasn’t aware that it still happened.”

  “If you look in the right places, not everything was destroyed by the Immortales. But yeah—Z’s all I salvaged from my previous life. Not all that exciting.”

  “That’s a blessing.”

  “It is,” Z murmured, feeling self-conscious without his usual layer of humour to protect him. “Will that god damned emergency function turn off anytime soon? It’s nearly deafening me.”

  “I wasn’t aware that deafening was a word used in such context,” Areya shot back, and Z was glad that she took the bait for banter, an easy smile sliding onto his face,

  “I only found out about 6 seconds ago as well. Hey, do you mind another question?”

  “Fire away.”

  “That’s the first non-formal thing you’ve said all day; that too in American.”

  Areya narrowed her eyes in concentration, a smile ghosting her lips, “I am almost positive that American isn’t a language more than a dialect.”

  “Let me live my lies.” This time, the brunette did laugh, and Z took pride in that.

  “Maybe you do have half-decent humour in you. You said you had a question?”

  “Oh yeah. Is all the technology in the palace like this elevator? Half-worn and beaten down?”

  “Sadly, I have to inform you that yes, most stuff’s like this. More like decorational antique pieces than for practical uses.”

  “Funny how our antiques are more advanced than what we use now. This elevator could be improved though. I was coming up with a few ideas.”

  “You wanted to improve the elevator?” She looked curious and confounded at the same time, surprised at the fact that she didn’t know something, and Z had to restrain a laugh at her weaved eyebrows.

  “Yeah?”

  “It’s good to know that Earth still has people able to find solutions,” Z shook his head. There was something in the way she said it, it sounded as if-

  Z pushed away his thoughts. It was impossible that what he was thinking could ever line up with the smiling face in front of him. “Hear that?”

  “No?”

  “Exactly. The beeping stopped, meaning-” the soft hum of the elevator started in the now silent air, soothing when compared to the harsh wailing of the emergency alarm. The lights flickered on, and they began their rather short ascendance, the rest of the ride taking about 3 seconds, before dinging at the third level.

  “Meaning I’m at my stop. It was a pleasure becoming better acquainted with you Areya.” He tipped his imaginary hat to her as he stepped out, to which she gave a little smile to. He turned t
o finally get to his room when he remembered the last thing he wanted to ask her. But when he turned back around, she was already gone.

  Seven

  IT was Celine who came searching for his companionship first, surprisingly. He was just finishing up some rough sketches of modifications of the elevator when the blonde had shyly knocked on his door, asking if he needed any help. Of course, he didn’t need any, but at the moment, he would have rather had human companionship than the companionship of his blueprints.

  And now they were sitting across from each other, talking about everything and nothing.

  “-and then they joined right in! Can you believe it? They were supposed to shut us down, but they in fact became our biggest supporter.”

  “I better watch that silver tongue of yours then. If you can convince those burly guards to join in on your protest, I don’t want to know what you can do with me,” Z said, and she laughed, playfully nudging his foot.

  “You best watch out then.”

  He chuckled, before sobering up. “Hey, I’ve noticed that you have an American accent. But you said that you’ve lived in that village your entire life, so-”

  “My parents are from Newmage which is in the Northern Confederate, and I guess I’ve just grown up by their accent, so it stuck.”

  “Newmage is right by New Toronto, right? That’s cool. I’m just from someone around here. Who knows,” he added dismissively, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He had seen the look on Celine’s face when he had added the I guess, when he was trying to determine his age. It was a risky subject, not one that he would like to voluntarily raise, but something in him told him that Celine was trustworthy. But again, look where that got Nox.

  “Z-”

  “Can I trust you?” Z asked, cutting her short, looking Celine in the eye.

  She looked like she was struggling to find the answer as she tentatively said, “I’d like to say that you can, but-”

  “I’m trusting you nonetheless,” Z announced, and Celine looked pained.

  “I don’t want to make you tell me something that you don’t want to, Z.”

  He let out a deep breath, closing his eyes, readying himself for the tale to come. “I have to tell someone. This way we got each other’s backs, right?” His eyes were closed, so he couldn’t tell if she was nodding or not, but he continued anyway. “I got into an accident when I was 14, around 5 years ago. I lost a lot of blood, and probably wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for my uncle. His blood runs in my veins.”

  “And now you can’t remember anything,” she concluded, something like understanding flashing in her voice.

  “Apparently when the man who found me had asked my name, all I repeated was Z. Something like a nickname.”

  “But how do you know your age?”

  “That’s the thing. I get flashes, like memories coming back in fragments. I just knew my age. And I know that my birthday is nowhere close to the one that the government assigned to me. October 31st.”

  “You think it passed?”

  “Yeah. I just know that it was in winter.”

  “Oh.”

  Z opened his eyes, seeing the familiar look of pity on Celine’s face. “Don’t pity me; that’s the worst thing you could do.”

  “Unfortunately, that’s one of the only things I can do in this situation, so I will continue.”

  “Your mind is quite made up, isn’t it?”

  She laughed and was about to fire back a retort when a heavy knock on the open door cut in.

  They both looked at the doorway to see January leaning half in, looking bored. “Hollingsworth, Z. King Jax is calling us all down.”

  “Wow, you got a maid’s job,” Celine commented, a fake smile on her lips. Z saw how deliberately she was trying to set Jan off, and decided to interrupt the two’s glare-off before WWIV would start.

  “Thank you, Jan. We’ll go down with you,” January looked from his steely glare on Celine to give Z a small nod.

  And so the three walked stiffly down the hallway towards the elevators, Z stuck between the two opposite personalities as to prevent any additional fights. Finally, Z decided to ask, “I thought that Jax cleared all of today’s activities because of the incident?”

  “That’s probably why,” Celine pointed out from his right side. Z caught movement similar to a nod from the left corner of his eyes, which was probably Jan forgetting how he was supposed to scowl at everything Hollingsworth said.

  “And the rest?”

  “Either already down, or coming within a few minutes,” was Jan’s rather blunt response.

  And with more unsuccessful ice-breakers and awkward clipped conversations, they reached the elevator. Although Z could tell that Celine was trying to look unaffected in front of Jan, she was failing, biting her lips with anticipation.

  “Hey, Celine. How about you finish telling me your story while we go down the stairs? Jan can join too if he wants.” Celine just nodded, a bit too frantic to look natural, and Jan surprisingly didn’t decline. In fact, he accepted straight away, eyebrow raised.

  “Do you not trust machinery, Hollingsworth?” Jan asked, curiosity mixed in with malice. Unlike Paris’ cruelty, Jan was simply going for revenge. Right?

  “No, I’m just not eager to be in a confined space with the same air you breathe.”

  Z had to bite his tongue to prevent from laughing, but the suddenness and the sharpness of his canines caused him to wince. Celine smirked at Z’s outburst, and Jan just angrily stormed ahead of them and went down two steps at a time. Well, that was smooth.

  “Thanks, Z,” Celine whispered, though whether for the quick save with the elevator, or the reaction to get rid of Jan, Z didn’t know.

  He just let out a ‘mmhmm’, his tongue too sore to speak.

  Eight

  THE tension was thick enough to cut with a chainsaw. And the restless part of Jax wanted to pull one out, just to snap the candidates in front of him out of their stupor.

  But the sensible part of him that was making decisions lately, knew that this was shocking for everyone and that they needed time, because time healed everything. Hell, Jax was still a bit shaken by the turn of events at breakfast and at the open deviousness of Paris Avelapoulos, but as horrible as it sounded, the chain of revelations revealed a bit of everyone’s cryptic personality.

  It showed a little more of the true colours behind each person’s eyes. Showed a little of their more human flaws.

  Shoving away his musings inside his brain, Jax turned his eye to the teenagers in front of him. Xan was sitting completely still beside Paris, neither of them bothering to attempt to make conversation. Jan arrived, looking more flustered and angrier than Jax had ever seen him, but when the king was going to ask what happened, Z and Celine came walking in, chatting with bright smiles on their face.

  “Ah. All we have left is Hunter and Defalco,” the king announced.

  “10 venz that they strangled each other on the way down,” Z snarked, and everyone else stared at the mechanic and his crude humour.

  Then Xan started to laugh, eyes sparkling as she asked, “The question is, who did the deed?”

  “They got each other, I bet,” the mechanic shot back with a smirk.

  Jax felt a grin creeping up on him but tried to calm his twitching muscles. He was supposed to be a neutralizing force between all the forces in the group, and neutralizing forces did not burst out laughing at a joke made on other’s expenses.

  “You have quite the sense of humour, Z.”

  Z flashed Jax another one of his contagious smiles. “I try, Your Majesty.”

  “I bet you do,” Paris let out snidely, and Jax felt that light feeling in him snuff out immediately upon hearing her voice. The morning’s cuts had just started to scab over, and the dry, rich tones of her voice just tore the wounds open again.

  Jax guessed that it did the same to everyone else, because the room quieted down, gazes lowered.

  “Well. We’re here, so l
et’s get this started, non?” The echoing voice of Blare Defalco, hit the walls, reaching their ears.

  “Vous pouvez parler francais?” Jax asked with a smirk, and Blare looked shocked at the question.

  “I used to be able to,” she curtly said, Jax felt his eyebrows sky-rocket. There was most definitely something about French that Blare Defalco didn’t want to talk about. “It seems your Majesty has an interest in the old languages.”

  “My skills need a little bit of brushing up, I believe.”

  “From what I heard, I would say otherwise,” Blare said, purposefully vague if the quirk of her lip was anything to go by. “Now, meeting?”

  Jax let out a quick chuckle.

  “Right.”

  …

  “You want us to what?” Z asked, face screwed in disbelief.

  “I want you guys to tell me the reason why you’re here. At least give me a reason as for why I should keep you around,” Jax’s voice was calm, and he willed himself to look as impassive as he could.

  “Make Avelapoulos promise not to make any mind-bending revelations, and then I’ll be more comfortable,” Xan’s voice was light and teasing, but Jax could sense the truth behind the words.

  “Yeah, yeah: I promise,” Paris didn’t sound sorry or regretful, instead, there was that glint in her eye. “In fact, I’ll go first. I’m not from around here if you guys couldn’t tell. I’m here to raise awareness for things that I think haven’t been represented well enough.”

  “Hey, Your Royal Majesticness?” Jax’s head whipped around to see a smirking Z. “What’s it with you and a fondness for circles?”

  “Got instilled in me as a child,” Jax joked, before shooting back a, “Do you have a better idea, Z?”

  “Fair enough,” the mechanic conceded, ducking his head.

  “I think you guys know why I’m here. My friend Myriad Amherst developed Scorchen as of a few days ago, and I’m here as her replacement. I’m just as qualified as her,” Xan said, the last bit fiercely, daring someone to contradict her.

  Z looked solemn when he spoke up, much different than the light, teasing smirk that usually graced his face. “I- I think that I should probably give you all a bit of a backstory, so you can get a bit of an idea of why I’m here.”