Page 50 of The Quiet
Ella held her breath as she peered past the door into the room. A chair had been toppled over, and she could see Jackson’s back now, Paris likely standing in front of him.
“I’m sorry for your pain, I really am,” Paris said, “we all owe you, Jackson. In many ways, I know you’ve sacrificed more than therest of us, but you could also gain more than the rest of us too. The deal is done. There is no going back.”
“Gain more?” Jackson growled. “How can you say that?”
Now, she could see Paris, pinned against the wall in a long purple gown, a sword drawn at her throat. Her delicate hands were up, Jackson keeping his distance despite having the upper hand.
“Do you know why it was so easy for you to sneak in?” she said, “because people don’t kill here. They don’t steal here. We don’t have poverty. Lambspeak isn’t sucking the life out of people, he’s not eating their memories and emotions for the sheer pleasure of it. He doesn’t want to create a new or better world like Peter claimed to. Humanity is fine as it is to him.”
“You think a Strike capable of everything he’s capable of is content to just let people exist? Strike have Madness in their blood, Paris. Madness. You saw what it drove them to do in the war. They can’t help themselves.” Jackson cursed, “You helped the ROSE once, didn’t you? Or have you forgotten that too?”
“I’ll never forget who I was, but more than that, I know who I am now,” she said. “You say all of this about being afraid for our future, that it’s not the future you want, and yet here you are, betraying every single word with how you’re acting right now. You didn’t come here to kill me. If you hated the world so much you would have already killed yourself.”
“That’s not possible and you know it,” Jackson barked back.
“Not possible? Why?” Paris asked, chin lifting.
“Because he keeps getting in the way.”
Paris caught Ella’s gaze as she eased into the room. Paris’s eyes remained focused on her, eventually drawing Jackson’s attention. He backed away from Paris at the sight of her.
“You stayed,” he said as if her presence did more than visibly disarm him. He said the word like he was accusing her, but with the vaguest sense of relief, like she was the one familiar thing in a strange land.
Paris noted something in his reaction, the subtlety in her smile carrying a message as she lowered her hands.
Jackson rubbed his face, putting the sword away as he walked past her, leaving Paris and Ella in the room together.
Ella followed him out. “Jackson,” she said, confused. “What’s going on?”
Jackson turned toward her in the hallway as she reached for his arm. He locked eyes with hers, “Why didn’t you go back?”
“I couldn’t.”
“It’s all going to happen again,” he whispered, searching her face. “You can’t trust this place. You can’t trust me. You can’t trust anyone.”
Ella watched him fade into darkness, Paris walking up behind her. “He’ll be back. I hardly think he can help himself, as stubborn as he seems. I wouldn’t take it personally.”
Ella looked over at Paris. She seemed as unphased and collected as always. As if noticing the concern in Ella’s face, Paris smiled.
“I’m fine,” she said, “Unfortunately, reliving his memories like he did will make adjusting to peace that much harder. The war is too fresh for him and peace is going to be challenging for him to deal with.”
“You know about Lambspeak too?” Ella said, testing Paris’s reaction, who seemed completely unbothered that she had brought it up.
“Lambspeak was the only Strike not in league with Peter. Independent, and at times a bit unpredictable, but with no real desire to dominate people. On rare but important occasions, he helped the ROSE, though only the higher ups in our order knew about it. He’s largely harmless. These days, he only really cares about his own survival.”
“These days?” Ella asked, feeling a subtle twinge of the kind of alarm she’d seen Jackson express.
“Yes. I’m expecting him here in a few months,” Paris replied, “Jackson will warm up to the idea. You’ll see it’s not quite as terrifying as he makes it sound. He’s always been a bit alarmist when it comes to Lambspeak, but you must know better than anyone Ella, that Strike are capable of more than cruelty, just like we are. They form strong attachments to humans. It can be poisonous, but I think, perhaps, there is room for it to be healthy as well. I believe they reflect what we feed them.”
Ella knew she could spend the rest of the night thinking about that statement alone, but another detail irked her in Paris’s presence as she inspected the empty hallways. “You dismissed your guards. You knew he was coming.”
“I’ve known Jackson for a long time,” she replied, still seemingly unphased by Ella’s questioning. “Can’t help but confront members of his team. It’s his best and worst quality.”
“You were on his team?” Ella asked.
“I’m not the one he came for,” Paris said, “not really.” She glanced down at Ella with a soft smile before returning back to her room, and waving back with a delicate hand, “Bright and early tomorrow.”
Paris prepared to shut the door, holding it open for a second longer as she peered out and said, “Oh, Ella.”
