The Partisan Chronicles [Dystopia | Supernatural | Mystery]

Andrei

Thanks to Jakob Adler, we'd finally solved the mystery of the metal contraption in the workroom. Power boxes, he called them. He couldn't explain exactly how the device functioned, only that similar constructs were used in homes and throughout the cities to provide light and function to automated machines.

He explained the glass bulbs in the chandeliers were not for show, but that under the correct circumstances, and with working equipment, they could be illuminated. Not with flame, but with merely light. We all had plenty of questions for Jakob about this phenomenon, but with a limited education and his limited exposure, he had few answers.

Once the initial excitement and wonder had passed, the others returned to their base renovation efforts, even Alexander who had the obvious means to provide us with new glass work in the form of sconces, drink wear, decorative fixtures, and the like.

Jakob Adler proved to be a popular house guest, and it wasn't until the next day I had the chance to speak with him alone. We convened in the small theatre where I knew a cello stood in the corner of a platform stage. A decrepit instrument no more useful than the collapsed piano, unfortunately. I held Jakob's journal in my hands.

"What would you like to talk about, Asa? Is it our feelings? More horror stories, perhaps?"

"I believe this is yours." I reached for his hand and pressed the journal to his palm.

The soft sound of Jakob's hand sliding over the leather cover preceded the crinkling of old, cracked pages.

"Where did you get this?"

"Sinclair, Rhian, not Rhydian. She found it in Leberecht. In the room behind the keyhole in the mountain, where—"

"Yes, I know well where."

Jakob moved to be seated on the edge of the platform stage. Though he was somewhat tall for his age, he was of a slender build. The wood creaked, but it held up beneath his weight. I dared not chance it with my own. Instead, I sat on the polished stone floor in front of him.

"Have you read it?" he asked.

"Jakob—"

"Has someone else read it for you?"

"No."

Jakob set his journal down beside him.

"I wanted to die, Andrei son of Andreas," he said. "But I couldn't. I tried—I tried many, many things. I kept that journal when I—" his voice clipped.

"It's fine, Jakob. You don't have to explain."

"Because you understand, don't you, Asa? It's why I knew we would be friends. I knew it the moment I smelled you." A pause. "More like him than like her."

He was referring to my parents, I presumed.

"Andreas and Kaisa," he confirmed. "My saviours."

I thought of the key to the keyhole in the mountain. The one Councilwoman Faust had said they'd found on my parents' bodies. She didn't think they'd been successful in their mission, but I wondered if my parents had found the lock after all.

"Are you suggesting my parents are the ones to have rescued you?"

"They captured me, Asa. My saviours, my jailers. But Andreas was kind."

I doubted this revelation would change much in the grand scheme, but it was interesting information nonetheless.

"They were right to do so," Jakob continued. "Had they released me, there's no telling what I'd have done. I asked them to kill me. They argued. Your father for mercy, your mother for eternal suffering. Just like my mother. We are kindred, Asa."

"Jakob, about your mother. There's something in your story, something that wasn't clear. Was she…?"

"Like me?"

"Yes, like you."

"Of course. But she hated it, Asa. She called us all monsters."

"And she was living somewhere else in Leberecht while you were in captivity?"

"She stopped visiting, so what do I know? She could be dead."

"And she was an illustrator?"

"My mother was cruel to be kind, but when I lost my eyes, I missed looking at her pictures most of all. She would use colour for me alone, Asa."

The details of Jakob's story unfurled in my mind.

In doing what she believed was best for her son, Avis Adler had unwittingly turned him into the very monster people feared he was. But she would have seen firsthand how cruel people could be. And now helpless her son had been when his instinct prevailed and compelled him to kill. By all accounts, Avis Adler was a self-loathing Anima touched by a unique trauma.

"Jakob, I believe your mother is the Artist."

"The Artist?" Adeline asked from the doorway. I'd barely heard her coming, and such had been the case lately—ever since Evelyn had reassured her that it was perfectly acceptable to walk around in your bare feet or your stockings at home.

"Yes, I believe Avis Adler is the Artist. And Jakob, your mother illustrated books but didn't write them, correct?"

"She had a writer for the writing. And a toymaker for the toymaking, too."

"The Artist, the Writer, and the… Toymaker?" Adeline asked. "That doesn't sound right."

"The Tinkerer—they are one in the same, I suspect."

Jakob had not yet been caught up to speed on our mission, so it seemed the opportune time to divulge. He listened quietly while Adeline and I explained what was happening in Leberecht, and that we were not only tasked, but personally determined to see it end.

"Like the places in her pictures," Jakob said. "The people were always happy."

This, along with our knowledge of the experiment, re-framed what I remembered of Leberecht. What had at first seemed like an advanced, polite society, was in reality a twisted, dystopia steeped in ancient wounds, modeled after a make-believe utopia meant for children. One in which, ideally, nobody was cruel and therefore nobody would have to experience cruelty.

I thought back to the chatty women who'd complained about their neighbour and who had commented on the size of my nose, and I wondered how effective the experiment truly was.

"Uncle Sebastian," Jakob said. "No one knew my mother better. Not even my father."

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If Jakob had any qualms about our opposing his mother and her cause, he didn't express them. Whether or not he would help us do it, he also didn't say.

More quiet footsteps approached, followed by the scent of wet dirt and roses.

Everleigh Gloom had stepped into the room. "I need to talk to you."

"Who?" I asked.

"You. Alone."

With that, Jakob climbed to his feet and shuffled over to join Adeline. They left shortly thereafter, but not before I promised we'd pick up from where we left off later.

I waited while Everleigh took her seat in Jakob's place.

"I'm planning a concert," she said.

"Here?" I asked.

"At the old theatre. I'd like it if you all came."

"Aren't your concerts typically, uh—"

"It's just a concert, Andrei."

"You know how much I enjoy hearing you play, Everleigh. We all do. But the theatre is a long way to travel. We have access to only one wagon."

"I'll make the travel arrangements."

Anticipating more prepared counters to any other roadblocks I might suggest, I scratched at my beard and saved myself some time and patience. "Seems you've thought of everything. When will this concert take place?"

"When the others are back. When Sebastian's back."

"Why not," I said. "Most of us will have never attended an official concert before, myself included. It might be nice, even if the theatre smells of rancid wood and rat dung."

"Great. I'll let you know when." Everleigh stood, her heel grinding as she turned to leave. A pause, and then, "Bye."

She shuffled off quietly.

I sat for a moment in silence, and just as I was about to stand, a voice interrupted.

"Is now all right for a quick chat?" Evelyn asked.

"Of course," I said. "Any time."

Soft, padded footsteps as Evelyn made her way to the platform. She took her seat in Everleigh's place. All the while, I wondered if I would have to start taking appointments again.

I adjusted my position on the floor. "I hear there's been progress in the renovations."

"Your friends are mighty hard workers."

They were, so I nodded, followed by a few moments of silence.

"Evelyn?"

"Aye?"

"Is there a line outside the door?"

"There may be a small line outside the door." Evelyn laughed. "We've all just been so busy. It's been tricky finding the time to talk."

"Whom should I expect next?" I called out.

"Me," Michael answered from beyond the doorway.

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, I wanted to thank you, anyway, Evelyn. Your presence has cheered Adeline up a great deal. She was beginning to feel a bit defeated, but I believe you've helped restore her faith."

"The lass is a real treasure."

She was, so I nodded. "Was there something in particular you wanted to talk about? Was there anything you needed to make your stay more comfortable?"

Evelyn shook her head. "I'll be leaving again with Rhydian, once he and Rhian return. Can't stay forever, but—I wish I could. I've barely had the time to get to know her."

"If it makes you feel any better, Evelyn, those who spend months with our favourite Enforcer may leave feeling as though it wasn't enough time to get to know her. She's guarded, and she's complicated."

"Just like her father, that one."

It was a valid point. No protest.

"Reason I stopped by, Andrei," Evelyn continued, "I wanted you and Rhian to have this."

Something soft was dropped gently into my lap.

Evelyn kept her voice low. "There was a time I thought I'd raise her," she said. "But I had her for two nights before I knew I couldn't do it. I couldn't love her for eight years, and—I brought her to the orphanage the next morning. I didn't want her to remember me, thought it might hurt her less. But I needed something to remember her by. I thought you might like to give it to yours."

I tested my fingers against the fabric and traced the edges. A small blanket. I thought of Sinclair as a day old infant all wrapped up. A fragile little life, entirely unaware she would go on to murder a great number of people for a corrupted cause she didn't believe in. And then I wondered— "Why give this to me and not to Rhian?"

"You know how she is," Evelyn said. "She'll appreciate it more coming from you."

Another valid point.

Evelyn rose from the platform, leaning down to give me a tight hug.

I patted her back, awkwardly.

Shortly after, she, too, left. When Michael entered, he took Evelyn's spot on the platform. We simultaneously and audibly winced when the wood beneath him cracked.

"I don't actually need anything," he confessed. "But I saw everyone else lined up and I thought, why not. I'm tired of scrubbing floors."

I smirked, and the wood groaned.

"It's good you did drop by," I said. "I've been meaning to say, I know you must be anxious to see your sister."

"Yeah." Michael shifted, and the wood creaked. "I get it, though. Oskari's far."

"You could have Everleigh tote you there."

"Strauss—no."

"You could ask Alexander," I suggested.

"Yeah, also no. I think I'll just wait until we have to travel there organically."

"Suit yourself."

For the next half an hour, Michael and I chatted about the day to day around the base. And, in the event you were curious, later that night when we all gathered in our newly refreshed dining room for dinner, he and Everleigh Gloom were mysteriously absent.

Later that night, Adeline would tell me the reason she'd stopped by earlier was to ask if she could borrow the cinnamon I'd brought back from the lair.

Naturally, I said yes.