by Britt Ringel
“Then stop hurting my son.” Aileth fixed her with an icy glare. “You know in your heart you have nothing to offer him. I don’t blame the Trodden for where they were born but I do blame them for not accepting it. Your status isn’t your fault and it’s certainly not fair. However, it’s reality. You’re a stray in Sadler’s world and you’ll only end up hurting him because of what you are.
“Kat, if you truly care about my Sadler, you’ll let him go.” Aileth’s jaw tightened and emotion flickered briefly through her. “Sadler won’t see it… he can’t see it but you know I’m speaking the truth.” She pressed a cloth napkin to her lips lightly before standing. Her strides to the door were measured, like everything about her. “Sadler would kill himself for you if you let him. I’m asking you to do what’s right.” She held the door open. “In fact, I’m insisting upon it.” A curt nod finished her statement.
Kat slinked obediently out of the office. She wanted to argue her worth. She wanted to make Aileth understand the depth of her affection for Sadler but, deep down, she wondered if the woman was right. A storm was coming, a superstorm, and Kat was afraid to face it alone. Did selfishness prevent her from admitting the truth? Losing Sadler was unthinkable but one way or another, after the Pelletier’s Society blew through, he’d likely be gone. She walked down the hall, head bowed and eyes brimming with tears. Before she knew it, she’d missed the turn to the reception area and was in the west hallway. Momentum carried her forward. She moved past several suites on her right and a bathroom door on the left.
“Excuse me!” Brooke’s distant voice called from behind her.
Kat blinked away her tears. She was nearly at the end of the hallway. The impressive door to Suite 308, CEO Phillip Porter, stood to her left, closed and with no office light leaking from beneath. Ahead, the hallway terminated at a fire escape stairwell. Kat turned around to find Brooke chasing after her. She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I’m sorry. I got lost.” She hated how the tightness in her voice made her sound weak.
Brooke took her elbow gently and led her back down the hall. At the receptionist’s desk, Kat deftly pulled a tissue from a holder on the counter before exiting the room. She had come to the third floor to gain approval and possibly assistance from Aileth. She was leaving utterly defeated.
Chapter 12
Kat stood at the third-floor elevator, still sniffling loudly while wiping her eyes with her sleeve. How could she walk past Mark and the lobby guard as such a blubbering mess? She took slow breaths trying to compose herself as she waited.
Aileth was right. She’d never be able to offer Sadler anything but trouble and danger. Even if the Pelletier’s Society left her alone, she could never safely be with Sadler unless she gained citizenship. Their date on the Strip had proven that. Kat’s hands balled into fists. The cruel irony was that she wasn’t truly Trodden. She was born a citizen as Kallista Pendleton. Even when the Pelletier’s Society disposed of that identity, they had undoubtedly established another for her, probably even multiple citizen identities to use in her work. Yet, here she stood, a helpless outsider.
“No,” Kat ground out between clenched teeth. She turned back toward the hallway leading to the reception area. “You’re not helpless, dammit, so stop acting that way.” Her legs propelled her into motion. Leaving the helpless waif mentality at the elevator, she walked with a confidence born out of ability, training and determination as her hand tucked the tissue into her right ear. She’d taken that tissue without thinking, yet had wiped her tears with her sleeve. She realized that a different Kat, Pre-Cat, had been planning ahead.
She ignored the double doors leading to Brooke’s station, gliding to the end of the hallway a few meters beyond. Her hands rose and pressed against the painted drywall. The third-floor’s layout appeared in her mind’s eye. The Coldbarrow conference room, then a bathroom, then Porter’s empty office.
She exhaled a long breath and opened herself to the psionic energy. Kat felt the corners of her mouth twist at a comforting feeling, the feeling of taking control. Pressure built inside her. Both ears began to throb. Her hands pressed harder against the wall. Without defined edges to focus on, the psionic push became more challenging. Control, Kat. Just big enough to walk through. A hushed grunt escaped her. The energy bundled into greater strength, its intensity threatening to throw off Kat’s yoke. She strained to contain it and the effort caused sweat to bead over her brow. Finally, instinct told her to push.
A one-meter tall but three-meter wide asymmetrical hole in the wall blinked into existence. Kat gasped when she saw the extent of the breach’s length. It had nearly reached the reception area, stopping short by only a dozen centimeters.
She ducked through the gap and into the empty Coldbarrow conference room, then braced for the push’s conclusion. Despite knowing what to expect, the burst in her ears still shocked her. She pressed the tissue deeper as she rubbed away the pain. After it had settled into a low pulse, she scanned the room.
Long and wide with an enormous table in the center, Kat counted twenty-two chairs. Grand viewscreens adorned three of the four walls and finely crafted sideboards stood below each one. A used pastry tray rested on the sideboard closest to the exit. Kat moved lightly to the western wall, mindful to round the table at the end opposite the glass door. She knelt to keep her profile below the table and pressed her left ear to the wall. Silence. The bathroom is next. There’s no real way to know if someone’s in there.
She worked her way nimbly down the length of the room. Bathrooms have water walls but I’m less likely to run into piping near the hall. Her best odds for a successful push would be nearest the west hallway. She wondered how she’d thought of that until the phantom sensation of a freezing spray made her shiver. Vague memories of accidentally apportating water pipes and being drenched teased the corner of her mind. She paused and tried to grab the obscure impression but it flittered away elusively. Regardless, she had the foresight born from experience, even if she couldn’t remember.
Control, Kat. She slowed her breathing again. An errant push could easily take the wall between her and the hallway. Curiously, the enhanced risk brought her an exhilarating rush. She felt like a caged bird that had been finally, finally set free. Her breathing steadied and psionic energy oozed out of the crack she had opened in her mind. This time the flow was easier to manage, easier to regulate. She felt in her element. She felt on air.
Hands touched the wall and an instant later, a roughly meter square rent appeared in front of her. She knew immediately that she’d missed the plumbing and smiled. The rift was smaller than she’d intended but serviceable. Yet, she knew she could do better. I’ve lost so much ability. Is it lack of practice or did I vitiate myself with that scorch?
She crawled through the opening, her lithe body effortlessly contorting through the aperture. Once inside the bathroom, she searched for other occupants. No one.
Pain jolted through her head again, forcing a whimper from her. Her ears were in agony as the push collapsed on itself. She pinched her nose and tried to exhale, willing her ears to pop. Dr. Wagner had told her the Valsalva maneuver was ineffective in reducing the psionic aftermath but she swore it helped. One more time, Kat. You can do it. She surveyed the final barrier. The wall’s far end housed the toilet stalls but closer to the exit was a long counter and three sinks. A flower vase sat in one corner, a stack of fresh towels and mints on a silver platter in the other. A wide mirror hung over the counter. Kat tested the counter’s strength before slipping onto it. She knelt between two sinks and pressed her hands to the mirror.
Her head throbbed but she steadfastly bundled strength. Her hands trembled, an unwanted distraction. She closed her eyes. The doorway to an unfathomable abyss opened once more inside her mind and she felt a stronger rush of energy. Its tide threatened to force the portal wider. Too much, she panicked. Grunting and pressing hard against the gateway, sweat dripped down her face and off the tip of her nose. Her efforts narrowed the portal’s gap. K
at gathered the accumulated energy and threw it at the wall. Blood roaring in her ears heralded a successful push.
She opened her eyes. The breach in the wall was a meter tall and roughly the width of her body. Past the rupture, a corner table blocked the lower portion of the opening. Pushing off the bathroom counter, she gracefully dove through the hole and somersaulted onto the thick carpet to help absorb her momentum. She rolled to her knees in the center of Porter’s office and waited. Seconds later, her ears popped torturously and a gasp exploded from her lungs. She rocked off her knees and sat down hard to ride out the pain.
When she was able, Kat rubbed her aching right ear before pulling out the tissue. The corner offered her a crimson memento of her labors. She folded the tissue and wiped her other ear with the unsoiled portion. It, too, came away red. She dabbed until clean, stuffed the tissue into her pants pocket and stood. Listening for several moments, Kat stepped to the door and tested the knob. Locked electronically, she would be safe inside.
Phillip Porter’s domain was ludicrously opulent. While Aileth’s office had demonstrated a tasteful elegance, Porter’s exuded money and power. His desk sat near the far corner where enormous windows comprised the walls. The windows were currently tinted heavily, preventing harsh sunlight from heating the space. Near the door, Kat found a panel that controlled their opacity. A table and sideboard fit snugly along the north side of the room while the corner table she’d dove over capped a luxurious leather sofa on the eastern side. Expensive-looking sculptures and other décor were scattered on every available surface among framed images highlighting Porter’s status and accomplishments. One picture showed him on a yacht with a smiling, beautiful brunette in his arms. The same woman was pictured in a wedding dress, hand in hand with Porter, standing under a flowered arch. They were on top of a tall building with a city’s skyline serving as the backdrop.
Kat walked softly to the desk and sat in a well-padded chair. A locked computer faced her, its screen displaying an elaborately staged family photo with his wife and two children on a beach. A different yacht lay anchored in the background. Instinct had her scanning for available input ports as nebulous recollections of using cracking sticks to collect and disburse data scurried into the periphery of her consciousness. Her face flushed at the implications. She’d not only stolen information in her past but also planted it. She’d framed innocent people, placed awful, horrible things on personal computers and handhelds knowing corp-sec would prosecute her unsuspecting victims. Kat shuddered in revulsion and gripped the arms of the chair. You didn’t do it, Kat. Pre-Cat and the Society did, she told herself. It was no comfort. How many lives had she helped destroy?
She swallowed the rising lump in her throat and sat back, considering her next move. Focus, Kat. Compartmentalize. Accomplish the mission. What’s next? Her breathing steadied and she relaxed in the plush seat. She closed her eyes and concentrated on the sound of air rushing from the ceiling vents. The sound whispered to her and the name “Alex” stretched across her mind as she counted her exhalations. Kat tried to picture a face, summon the man to her mind. Nothing. No, she thought. Not Alex… Alexane. It was an unusual name, a woman’s name that brought her comfort. The fingers of her left hand slid slightly on her wristwrap. Her hand continued to move unguided, sliding forward after every fourth breath. Her body remembered even if her mind had forgotten. Kat could almost feel meditation beads under her fingertips as she fell into deeper relaxation…
Long fingers with red nails rebuttoned a silken blouse to cover pale skin and a white demicup bra. The woman’s chest still heaved, aftereffects of vigorous activity. “Take me to Northport, darling.” The accented voice oozed culture.
Phillip Porter shifted his weight off the leather couch and pulled up dark slacks. The trousers seemed impossibly smooth given they’d been crumpled at his ankles. He pulled his dress shirt over a muscular chest that defied his age. “Jana is coming with me, Brooke.”
The blonde finished buttoning her blouse and stood. She pressed herself against Porter and caressed his jaw. “I don’t mind,” she stated wickedly. “Just tell her that some new meetings have been scheduled and we can meet in a different room.” She placed soft kisses on his mouth.
Porter cut short the affection and tried to separate himself from her. “It’s getting harder to hide your travel on the expense reports. Last month, Aileth asked me why my food bills are twice everyone else’s.” He placed his hands on the beautiful woman’s shoulders, a subtle signal.
Brooke trapped his hands under hers and rubbed against him. “Can’t you just use that credstick like when we were in Coldbarrow?”
“Honey, I still have to put funds onto that stick. The money has to come from somewhere and Jana is starting to get suspicious about my ‘golfing’ outings at Northport and Coldbarrow. I think that’s why she insisted on coming this time.”
The woman slid her hands to Porter’s chest. “Aren’t I worth the risk?” Her hands roamed lower. “Isn’t this?” she breathed heavily.
Porter groaned softly. “Fine. Take the stick and book your travel and room.” His hands dipped from her shoulders. The soft fabric of her blouse molded to what he sought underneath. “If Jana ever finds that credstick, she’ll kill me.”
The couple kissed deeply again. When they separated, Brooke sashayed to Porter’s desk and pulled open the center drawer. She plucked a flat black credstick with a white stripe from the depths of the drawer and unleashed a breathtaking smile. “Just make sure you don’t ever leave the building with it…”
Kat flinched and felt goosebumps over her arms. The sexual encounters were always the worst. Seeing exposed flesh and intimate details of hidden lives made her feel like a demented voyeur. She’d never gotten used to it, lived in fear that she might actually get used to it, or worse, begin to enjoy it.
Her weight rocked forward on the chair. My God, I’ve done this before. I’ve used my postcognition to spy on people. But how? The Society didn’t decipher my ability until the night they tried to kill me. How did I do all this?
Kat shut her mind to the disturbing questions and her focus returned to Porter’s desk. Stick to the task at hand, Kat. Accomplish the mission. She pulled open the center drawer. In the back right corner, right where Brooke had reached in the vision, rested the black and white credstick, partially hidden by a thin handheld. She snatched the stick and plugged it into a port on Porter’s computer. Though access to the computer’s system remained locked, a window opened to the credstick. Kat tapped commands on the desk’s inlaid keyboard. An account summary appeared onscreen and the sordid financial details of an extra-marital affair revealed themselves.
She unplugged the stick, pocketed it, and scanned the inlaid comm unit on the desk, committing the code to memory. The task complete, she turned in the chair and stared out the windows at a spectacular panoramic view. With the heavy tint, the landscape looked nearly in twilight. Past Waytown and the slums, The Blight spread westward to the horizon. She had walked that cracked, parched earth in search of herbs her first week surviving in Shantytown. Every step into The Blight was a step away from life itself. The flat, desiccated landscape seemed as empty as her memories most times. She feared her past matched the cruelty of what stretched out before her.
Kat shook herself free from those thoughts and walked away from her past and to the door. A tap on the controls unlocked it and she cracked the door open. The hall was deserted. She slipped through the narrow opening and softly eased it shut. The stairwell just past Porter’s office gave her an easy escape route. She scanned the fire door for alarms but found none and was grateful she wouldn’t have to perform a final push. She noiselessly opened the door and stepped through.
The trip down three flights of stairs was brief. The stairwell emptied into a short hallway on the ground floor, which in turn flowed into the lobby. She walked through as if she owned the space and greeted Mark with a wave and a smile. After making guiltless eye contact with the guard, she str
olled casually to the double doors. No one chased her. They barely acknowledged her.
Outside, Kat breathed a slight sigh of relief tinged with disappointment that the hardest part of the job was finished. All that remained was the blackmail.
Chapter 13
Sadler looked tantalizing, standing by the phoenix fountain inside The Lucky Gun. Her eyes drank in the tight fit of his navy trousers and the collared shirt stretching across his chest. His dark brown shoes complemented a nearly taupe belt. The fact that he paid such attention to detail, for her, brought a grin to Kat’s face.
She wore her red dress… again. The acrylic hugged the curves of her hips, the flat of her stomach and the swell of her breasts. The hem stopped just short of her knees, highlighting firm, athletic legs. Kat touched her throat, pressing the pendant to her skin. She knew she looked great. She felt great. Freshly showered, she even delighted in the simple aroma of her lye soap. Minimal makeup, just eyeliner, was enough to make her brown eyes pop. Upon witnessing Sadler’s eyes bulge and mouth drop at the sight of her, she sashayed forward with confidence.
“Hey!” he said too loudly. He rushed to her, taking her into an embrace before kissing her.
Kat sank into him and lingered with the kiss. Her fingertips traced a trail of fire down his jawline. He smelled like sandalwood and his skin was soft and smooth. Her mind briefly flashed to Brooke’s caress of Porter, to Tabitha stroking Sadler. Stop, Kat. Those memories aren’t yours so stop fixating on them. “Hello, handsome,” she purred. “I’ve missed you all day.”
Sadler’s effervescent smile diminished slightly. “But you didn’t miss Mom, did you?” He took her by the hand and guided her through the casino’s lobby. “I don’t want to turn this into a fight but I know what happened.” He gestured to Miller’s Grill at the far corner. “I made reservations for tonight and tomorrow.” His left hand fished two tickets from a pocket to soften his rebuke and he smiled at her. “As promised, two tickets to tomorrow night’s show.”
