The Man In The Midnight Blue Suit

Chapter Twenty-Three

The next day, we are faced with another challenge. And another the day after that. We're pushed, harder than ever before. Yet I know the Elites are only getting started. These first few are just foreplay – a chance for them to become familiar with our abilities. Soon, real challenges will start.

Katelyn doesn't have another headache. When I ask her about them, she smiles, saying that she hasn't given them cause to come back. "I know that I've no chance of winning this." she says with a mix of defiance and defeat, "I'm just trying to get through it until the end."

By the end of the third challenge, the realities of this competition are beginning to hang heavy on us. We stumble out of the arena, tired and relieved that the challenge is over. We never saw the Elites on the balcony above. Instead, as soon as the silver bonfire roared, they were controlling us. At least, they were controlling me – the walls of the bonfire rose up as always, blocking them from view. It was an invisible battle against a force I did not know. Perhaps it was one Elite, or different ones, changing as the hours wore on. Every time I felt my own control slip away, I managed to get it back – although not easily, in some cases. It was seven hours of rigid torture.

I drop back to walk alongside Gin. We don't talk. No one is in the mood to be social. Scot slips into his apartment, so quietly that it takes a moment to realise he's gone. He is like a shadow sometimes, Scot – I hardly notice when he's here and when he's not.

I don't bother pushing the door to my apartment open. It opens and shuts behind me without a sound. It's unnerving, the silence of those doors.

I only take a single footstep before I freeze. Something's different. It's not the same as when I left it. Just a feeling, like spiders crawling up my spine or ropes twisting around my guts.

I'm not alone.

I slow my pace, my heart, my breathing, until everything seems to be in slow-motion clarity. It's dusk outside, causing long shadows to stretch across the apartment. I can see the benches that make up the tiny kitchenette and the round table. No ones there. I take a step. A glance into the bedroom reveals that it's empty. I take another step, walk past the kitchenette and around the only corner in the apartment. Eyes flick over the beige leather sofa, the circular chair. A head of short, curly blonde hair protrudes from the back of the sofa. It moves upwards, and turns around, revealing a face with light blue eyes.

Jonathan.

The world seems to be speeding up again until it's going too fast. He stands, and smiles, and walks towards me. For a moment, a second, I stand shocked. But soon his presence overwhelms me. I can't help but run to him and throw my arms around the brother I have missed.

I'm so relieved, excited, or is it distress mixed with happiness, that I hardly notice that his hug is more reluctant than usual.

"Where have you been?" I say as he breaks away. He still smiles.
"That doesn't matter." His voice is strained as if he's hiding something.
"Well, why are you here? What happened?"
"I'm here to see you." Still, he smiles, and it strikes me that it's a kind of smile I haven't seen before.
"Jonathan, what's wrong?"

He doesn't say anything, just smiles a porceclain smile. But his fingers twitch. And while he smiles like nothing's wrong, his eyes tell a different story. The twitch gets faster and faster, his fingers flicking in unnatural ways. The smile falls. His face relaxes. The twitch stops.
"Casey," He says in a rush of breath, his body leaning over in relief.
"Jonathan?" There's more than alarm running through my veins now: it's been joined by fear.
"I'm here," He gasps, "I'm really here." He doesn't smile this time, but I know that his expressions are his own.
"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," He says in rush, words falling out one after another. "It's him. H-he's controlling me. He wants to send you a message. He's not happy, Casey, he's really not happy. But just – remember what I said. About this. Even when we didn't know what this was. You have to –"
His spiel stops. His body stiffens, and the smile returns. It looks sickening now, an ugly mask sticking to his face.
"You're not doing enough, Casey. You weren't trained for that." That message comes from Lucian. And with that, Jonathan is gone.