BLUEMANTLE by Karen Langston (if you give a mouse a cookie read aloud TXT) 📕

deep breath and fixed his bloodshot eyes on the lamp’s glowing mantle. “It started fifteen years ago,” he said. “Brann had been in custody for five years. He couldn’t cope. You remember what a gentle kid he was back then? So kind and easy-going. He wasn’t tough enough to handle the detention centre. As the years passed, he was steadily deteriorating. You know this; you saw him. When his parole was refused for the fifth year running, he went downhill. He couldn’t survive in there much longer. That’s when I decided. I’d stood by for too long, watching him suffer. I had to do something to get him out. So, I went to the Exchange.

“I didn’t have a plan, had nothing to trade. But everything has a price. So, I asked what they’d want for Brann’s release. I despised the A for arresting Brann, loathed them for the way they were treating him. Yet, I knew the only way I could save him was to do what they wanted. I agreed to their price and we struck a deal. I would join their eyes and ears on the ground, feeding back any information on the Scene, in exchange for Brann’s release.”

Wella raised her eyebrows, but she didn’t respond. Watching Chase intently, she waited for him to continue.

“I should’ve known,” he said. “When I thought it was all sorted, they upped the price. Turned out it wasn’t to be just the once. They were obsessed. They kept going on about ‘Music Makers’, how they had to be caught at any cost. They also knew about me, about my attitude towards the A. Turns out, they used my hostility to their advantage.

“Remember that time I went away for a while? You still lived at home, I think. Well, the A took me in. I didn’t have a choice. They put me on a programme – ‘re-education’, they called it. Brainwashing, more like. They held a mirror up to my hostility so that it bounced right off and reflected elsewhere. Towards the Scene. Towards Users.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how they did it. But it worked. I came to blame the Scene for what had happened to Brann. If the Scene didn’t exist, the A wouldn’t have to come down so hard on those they suspect are part of it. I resented Users. Blamed them. If I could report back information that would lead to their arrest, I was happy to do so. I figured they deserved it. I was an informer for the bastard A and I still felt justified.

“Then it just went on. Somehow, I’d absorbed their rhetoric and thought it was my own. My resentment grew. I felt no shame. Brann was out and alive; they couldn’t hurt him anymore, yet I carried on. The A’s mission became my own. The Scene had to go. If it did, there would be no more innocent people arrested and made to go through what Brann did. No more Deaf Squad. No more midnight raids. All I had to do was have an annual medical and psychological assessment, and message my contact whenever I picked up intel I thought they might want to hear. Whatever they did on the medical, I didn’t want to know.” He reached up and felt the scar on his shoulder. “Each time, they’d replace an implant. I didn’t ask questions; I didn’t care. The trade would never be paid off, but I was okay with that. They’d already got me on side. And then you disappeared.

“When I found copies of Bluemantle in your quarters, I guessed you were somehow involved with the Scene. I couldn’t believe it – couldn’t understand why you’d even want anything to do with the Scene. It seemed impossible. Then I met Ursel. When I found out she was part of it too, I knew the A would want to know. I was angry with her. But, at the same time, I needed her to take me to you, so I could persuade you to come home. I couldn’t just leave you, knowing what the A would do to you if you were caught. And there was every chance they would catch you, because, despite the danger, I still had to tell the A what I knew. Not about Ursel; she was my way in. But about the event. Chief’s show. I told them it was going to happen.”

Chase sensed Wella move in her seat, could feel her eyes bore into him. He didn’t dare look up to meet her eyes; he couldn’t face the judgement he knew he would find there. Swallowing hard, he pushed on. “I went to the Chief event with Ursel. She refused to tell me exactly when and where it was to be held, thank crow, so I couldn’t tell the A. I just told them which day it would happen. Then I saw Chief, heard their music, and everything started to unravel.” He felt the scab, the deep scar of betrayal. “After, when Ursel and I had escaped, I cut out whatever it was they had put in my shoulder.

“Things became confused; I didn’t understand. I saw something in Ursel: a strength and conviction I admired. I still resented Users, blamed the Scene, but I felt differently towards her. Also, I couldn’t get Chief out of my head. The euphoria I felt at the event was short-lived, but it left an impression I couldn’t ignore. I felt conflicted without knowing why. That’s why the A started watching me. They were pushing me to give up Ursel, but I wouldn’t. Not because I needed her, but because I was protecting her. They knew I was hiding something and they got suspicious. Now they’ll know for sure. And they won’t give up, I know it. They’ll keep on until they find me. But I didn’t realise that before. Even last week, I still thought I could have it both ways. The doubt had started, but it wasn’t