Book 2: Chapter 34 - Why Won’t Anyone Just Do Something?
I have received my fair share of foul orders
while working at this school.
And I’ve obeyed each one.
Because that was the only way I knew
I would still be there when my students needed me.
I long ago decided they would be better off
if at least one person on staff cared if they lived or died.
As long as I could save as many children
as possible, I was willing to be a monster.
But some of the orders I followed…
I don’t know if I can ever truly be forgiven.
—Virgil Clay, Personal Journal
Chase was the only one left in the library. It had closed hours before, so this wasn’t a surprise. Thankfully, the staff had allowed him to stay. He hadn’t even needed to ask. He knew he was wearing anxiety like gaudy jewelry. It was obvious that he’d inspired pity without need for an explanation. That may have pricked at his pride, once. Back in Roseville. Like when his father had always pushed to improve his grades, regardless of how well he’d done. Without even checking, usually. So he’d never had that chance to prove he didn't need the help.
It was an ironic mirror to the way everyone else treated him. His father assumed he was an idiot who couldn't do anything on his own. And everyone else assumed he was brilliant because he was a Statistician. With a calling like that, he must’ve been the smartest person in any room. In either case, no one really cared who he actually was. Just who they decided he should’ve been. Everyone but his best friend, of course.
For once, however, he was grateful for the assumption. He needed as much time in the library as he could get. Because, while he wasn't an idiot like his father believed, he also wasn't a genius. Statistics was just a type of math. Not everyone was good at it, but the average person could learn it if they wanted. No talents necessary. Chase was a man of average intelligence. He had a calling perfect for a desk job. He couldn't immediately calculate the best course of action in a new situation. He couldn't predict where an attack would come from after watching a hedron attack once.
That just wasn't how statistics worked. Statistics was a way of processing data. That meant he needed data to process, or he was just a normal guy with the average attributes of a mid-red. Perhaps he’d have a talent for gathering information on the spot someday. Maybe at a high enough category, he could watch a man fight and know what the next move would be. But as a red, he couldn't.
Which was why he went straight from the train station to the library after Alex's death was confirmed. After he learned what happened to Caitlyn. After Violet all but confessed to him that she’d had something to do with his best friend’s disappearance.
He went to the library, and he gathered data. He stopped when he needed to eat or wash. He went to class, then he went back to the library. He didn't have any friends who might grow concerned about his obsession. Alex was dead. Chase was alone, and in mourning. This left him constantly gloomy and unapproachable. And of course, there had been rumors spreading about him. Violet’s doing, he suspected. No one was particularly interested in befriending him. Not even his roommate.
All too ironically, he found himself in a situation not unlike Violet’s. At least, before she’d gotten her calling. But that didn't matter. Friends wouldn't help him find justice for Alex. Only data would do that, and that was what he was gathering. Data on suicide rates. On hedron behaviors and movement patterns. The average time it took for a human corpse to become a hedron, and how clarity levels in the area affect the process. He researched how common fatalities were on routine train rides. How often Category Red citizens survived incidents that killed multiple Category Yellows.
He researched anything he could think of. Anomalous and Nightshade callings. Clarity concentration by area. Murder and death rates by population. If any information at all seemed like it could be relevant, he gathered it and fed it to his talent.
The words rang in his head like a bell. Not the bell of a cat’s collar, or to summon a servant. It was more like a church bell, deep and improbably loud. They reverberated through his spine and recreated the same shiver as Violet’s voice.
If I wanted to kill someone, they would be dead. And no one would be looking for a killer. It would look like an accident. Or, actually. Maybe I’d make it look like a suicide.
Then, he heard another voice.
I’m sorry, the lancer had told him afterward. Your friend, Alex. He… it was an accident, we're afraid.
And a third.
Caitlyn Jiron is dead. She… took her own life. The day the train left. She couldn’t live with her son’s departure.
And again, Violet’s voice rang through his head.
It would look like an accident.
Maybe I’d make it look like a suicide.
Caitlyn Jiron wouldn’t have done that. Not while Alex was still alive. Not while he was still on the train, only a hundred yards away. She wouldn’t. But Violet? Violet hated Caitlyn almost as much as she hated Alex. And if Chase was certain of anything, it was that Violet did hate Alex. It was a polite hate. Contempt, even. But she absolutely loathed Alex. He’d thought, very briefly, that he’d been wrong about her. That she was just struggling. She’d put so much on the line to protect everyone, after all.
But after their last two meetings… and then the data. Statistically, nothing lined up with the official story. There was too much death in too short a time. Violet had advanced too quickly. Then, there was everything he’d read about clarity. The rate at which Lancer Stephanie had turned was a near statistical impossibility. Except, he found, in cases when a powerful hedron was extremely nearby. Hedron had historically spawned from corpses so quickly under only one of two circumstances—when another hedron was the killer, or when it was within a few feet of the deceased. Even then, it was rare. It only happened with uncommonly aggressive hedron. And usually with animals or lancers who had, for lack of a better term, pissed the monster in question off.
Chase didn’t have all of the pieces yet. He couldn’t be certain of anything. But…
It would look like an accident.
I’d make it look like a suicide.
She’d told him. She had told him.
He didn’t know why. He honestly wouldn’t have considered it before. Not legitimately. No one really thought the people they’d grown up with could be cold-blooded killers. Even if he’d half-entertained the idea that she’d been the one arrested the day before. But once she’d said those words… it became obvious.
Violet had killed Alex. She’d killed Caitlyn. She’d probably killed Daniel and Stephanie, too. Chase didn’t know how, or when. But she was a murderer. She was a fucking murderer. That was how she was advancing so quickly. She wasn’t even hiding it well. If anyone bothered to look, it would be apparent what was happening. He was shocked the school hadn’t already arrested her for questioning, considering how sloppy she’d been. They already knew everything he’d been researching, after all. He didn’t understand how she’d been left alone for so long.
But it didn’t matter. He knew the truth now. And he would use it. He’d get justice for Alex. Even if it killed him, Chase would make sure Violet spent the rest of her life paying for what she’d done. Once he brought all of this to Mr. Bouvier, he was certain this entire ordeal would be over. It wouldn’t bring Alex back. But at least Violet would suffer.
There was only one thing that bothered him.
Why did she tell me?
It didn’t make any sense. She couldn’t really be that arrogant. It had been all but suicide to tell him what she’d done, even in the oblique way she’d done it. No one who didn’t want to be caught would just… say that. Which meant she was trying to bait him into something. It had to be some kind of trap. He didn’t know what it was. Or why it was worth casting suspicion onto herself. But it was something, and that gave him pause.
Chase sighed and leaned back in the old, wooden chair he’d been using for hours. He closed the book in front of him and heard the sound echo through the abandoned library. He wasn't going to take any chances. Violet wasn’t going to wriggle out of it because of unsubstantiated speculation, or his word against hers. He knew what she was, and he knew what she was doing. And he was going to find proof. Undeniable proof of who she was and what she’d done.
Once he had that, he was taking everything to Bouvier. And regardless of why the academy hadn’t puzzled this out themselves, they’d know the truth.
And Violet Asher would never see the light of day again.
“I hear the Asher girl finally met with her family. Asked a favor from them, even,” the voice said. “Has she stopped by to report on them yet?”
Abel took a deep breath. He’d heard the rumors, of course. Violet had openly said as much. But that was all. She hadn’t said a word to him, despite their deal. But he’d expected that. Things hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. She was supposed to wait until the Ashers contacted her, but she’d gone to them. Circumstances had made it necessary. Considering the situation with the Mulberry girl, it was not a surprise that making a report hadn’t been at the top of her priority list.
He was planning to wait until just before she entered the mist, then call her in. She’d be off balance with the anxiety of the trip, and his patience would be a small step toward getting her on his side. Since he’d failed to pull off the blackmail bluff, that was the best approach he had. Violet was a valuable asset. The Ashers would want her enough that they wouldn’t be as cautious with her. But that meant she had to be handled with care. And, at the moment, she had more reason to be loyal to her family than to the school.
“Not yet,” Bouvier said. “I am giving it time, in order to gain more leverage. We are fortunate that the Ashers seem to have treated her poorly. Their barbaric initiation gave us an advantage. I intend to press that by ensuring we remain the more understanding party, in her mind. I’ll summon her to my office once she’s allowed the fear to subside and the anger to stew for a few days. And I’ll forgive her for her tardiness, to highlight the differences between us.”
“You mean to say you want to allow a child to dictate the terms of your agreement, and coddle her as she ignores her obligations to us? Is that correct?” the man said.
Bouvier was silent. He was fortunate to have found this organization. He knew that. Without their help, he would never stop the Ashers. And everyone would have to live like this forever. He lacked the resources to take titans down on his own. Even as the headmaster of Chromatic Academy. A family as powerful as the Ashers couldn’t be toppled by will and testimony alone. Even considering what he’d learned about them. It didn’t even matter that he had proof. Which meant he needed the Inverted Prism Society, and he knew that.
If only they weren’t so stupid. He hated answering to fools like them nearly as much as he hated working with Violet. Unfortunately, they were the ones who had money and connections, and abandoning them would just make another enemy. In the same way that investigating Violet for anything suspicious which happened around her would. And there was more than a little to indicate she was up to something. But it would only end with her family stepping in to protect her—and by extension their own—reputation. At which point she would belong to them, and he would lose her as an asset.
It was a delicate and frankly disgusting balancing act.
“With all due respect, sir, that is not the case. We are close to losing this asset already. She is openly hostile to the Apothecary we hired. In fact, confronting him is why she went to the Ashers in the first place. I know you have your reasons for pushing him on me, and I won’t press you on them. But this puts our actions in direct conflict with the asset’s interests. We want to use her, not burn her,” he explained.
“I do not appreciate your tone, Mr. Bouvier. But I suppose you are on the scene. I will trust you with this… minor detail,” the voice conceded. “But only because she remains too weak to retrieve useful intel for us at the moment. How are the plans to further accelerate her advancement proceeding?”
Abel rolled his eyes, but launched into his prepared spiel for the expected question. He’d have Violet in the mist again in less than a week. And he would be certain that she returned a higher degree than she left. No matter what it took. The Society simply needed a little damn patience.