by Kristin Cast
Rhett huffed. “Of course she’s not,” he said, each word punctuated by a crunch as he resumed eating. “She’s confused. The whole mess has her rattled.”
Elodie was confused. Very confused. But she knew one thing for sure—what she’d witnessed was not an attack. “Maybe neither of you know me well enough to know what I am.”
Add that to the list of what she knew to be true.
“El—” Rhett began.
“No! I don’t want to hear it.” Elodie’s heartbeat clapped inside her ears.
Gwen stiffened and opened her mouth to speak.
“From either of you.” Elodie spun around and marched toward the stairs.
Gwen clicked frantically after her. “Elodie!”
Elodie stopped short of the top of the stairs and steeled herself before she faced her mother.
Gwen’s eyes glistened with tears. Real tears this time. “I worry about you so much. I want to be sure you’re safe. The Key is safety—the right path. Please don’t disappoint me and turn down the wrong one. Think first, my darling. Think.”
“Disappoint you?” Her mother’s display of honest emotion would have been sweet, touching even, but Elodie saw the snake coiling just beneath the surface. “How? By having my own opinion?”
“Dammit, Elodie!” Gwen snarled and struck the bannister. “When your father and I made the decision to bring you into this world, the lead in the Gestation Unit asked if there were any traits we wanted enhanced or stunted. I told him to let nature run its course.” Gwen climbed two steps at once, her long legs flicking out like a praying mantis. “Of all the things you’ve done, and you’ve done plenty, becoming a sympathizer is the one thing that will make me regret turning those natal programmers down!”
Her mother’s words hung in the air, stifling Elodie’s breath and eating away at her flesh.
Rhett leaned into the stairwell, still chomping away.
Elodie’s soul retreated, curling into the depths of her heart. “I need to go change.” Her legs were putty as they carried her up the final few stairs.
“I didn’t want to say any of that, but someone had to tell her the truth,” Gwen loudly whispered to Rhett. “You’re naïve, Elodie,” she said, descending the stairs, “but I love you. I’m trying to protect you.” Her mother’s voice echoed within her, far away and paralyzingly close at the same time. “I had to tell her, Rhett. I had to.” Gwen’s heels clicked on the marble as she slipped past Rhett and made a noble retreat to the kitchen.
At the bottom of the stairs, Rhett cleared his throat and flicked an orange chunk from his pristine white tee. “We can, uh, go someplace when you’re ready, El. No rush.”
Elodie’s chest heaved a dry sob as she reached the second floor. She forced herself to walk in slow, even paces to her room. Tears breached her vision as she closed the door behind her and ran to the window. She threw it open and inhaled the sun-warmed evening. The branches of the pink magnolia tree reached out to her, its verdant leaves whispering with each gust of crisp air.
She couldn’t go back downstairs. She wouldn’t. But it would only be a matter of time before Gwen’s impatient footsteps brought her to Elodie’s door. Her mother wouldn’t let those words stain her home. She’d wring her hands and click her stilettos and pout those lips until the need to cleanse the space overtook her desire to ignore the distressing blemish. Elodie had seen it over and over again between her mother and her father until the only things that proved he lived there were his clothes and the faint scent of cedar that haunted the hall outside of her parent’s room.
Daniel Benavidez was in a constant state of leaving. Elodie understood the impulse all too well.
Rhett’s laughter wafted into Elodie’s room in muffled bursts. Her stomach soured, and she caught another refreshing breath of fresh air. Her fiancé had stood there, watching as her mother chipped away at her. Then he’d offered to take her someplace after she changed. And where was he now?
Elodie’s eyes burned.
He was supposed to love her.
They were supposed to love her.
But this didn’t feel like love.
The narrow peaks of distant pine trees pierced the sun as it drained golden orange into the horizon.
Someone had to tell her the truth.
The truth was a funny thing. Like a pond during winter. Safe, stable. Until it wasn’t. And the ground tumbled away, dropping you into an existence so cold the maw of death could look like a refuge.
Elodie wouldn’t wait around for anymore of Gwen’s truths. She had her own to determine. And from now on, Elodie would make sure her feet were always on solid ground.
Quickly, Elodie stripped out of her scrubs and pulled on her favorite pair of black leggings and a cotton tee before stuffing her feet into her tennis shoes. She shoved aside the row of rocks she’d collected on the banks of the Columbia and climbed onto the windowsill. She studied the tree’s broad limbs, her cheeks puffing as she inhaled a large, contemplative breath and let it out slowly.
Violet Jasmin Royale would do it. Vi would leap out, spring-
loaded, shimmy down the big magnolia, and be gone, vanish, never to be heard from again.
Elodie flexed her fingers and reached out. She grabbed the fat tree limb and pushed off the windowsill. Air squished out of her torso in a wheeze as her stomach hit the massive branch.
Not quite spring-loaded, but a leap toward freedom, however temporary.
Elodie swung her leg over and straddled the branch before shimmying backward down its sharp pitch toward the trunk. She winced as the rough bark clawed through her leggings.
She should have climbed more trees when she was younger. She should have climbed any trees when she was younger.
The trunk met her back, and she peered over the branch she straddled. When she’d looked up toward her window from the ground, the first of the tree’s many branches had never looked this high. But now, sitting on top of it, she was pretty sure she was fifty feet in the air.
You’re naïve, Elodie, and I’m trying to protect you.
She huffed.
“Your eyes are five and a half feet higher than your feet, so it’s not actually as far as it seems. Stop scaring yourself and jump off the damn thing.” Without another thought, she did just that.
Pain flared for an instant as her ankles complained, but she stuck the landing.
Elodie didn’t give the nagging echo of her mother a chance to pull her back to the house. Instead, she jogged down the street along the same path she took every morning. The familiarity of the walkway and each house lining up between her and Gwen buffered a bit of the pain, but her mother’s words were branded across her flesh, and no amount of I love yous would buff away the scars.
No one looked up as she leapt through the closing doors onto the MAX and skidded to a stop in the middle of the train car. Bursts of purple light from the other passengers bobbed around her. She looked at the button on her cuff.
Elodie had left the house without putting her shield up.
XXVII
Blair didn’t look up from her holopad when Maxine entered her office. She continued to scroll through the mind-numbing bar graphs and various inpatient, outpatient statistics as her faithful assistant stood quietly, calmly, respectfully in front of the onyx desk.
Bored with testing Maxine’s unwavering resolve, Blair tapped off her holopad. “You have exciting news, I hope. My last few hours have been supremely dull.”
Maxine’s features smoothed into an unreadable mask. The girl was actually quite pretty—which would serve them both well. “It’s about your brother.”
Bad news, Blair suspected, shaking back her curly mane. Good thing she could weather any storm.
Maxine flipped up her holopad, glanced at it quickly, and set it back against her hip. She nodded tightly before continuing. “I know you want him
to be reassigned as an entry-level Key Corp soldier, but I am having trouble. The highest chain-of-command level I’ve been able to reach is just a standard anybody officer. Anyone with a higher title just referred me to one of the peons I had already spoken to. I’m sure I could gain a bit more traction if I told them this is for you—but I won’t.” Maxine’s cheeks reddened as she let out a tight sigh. “I’ve exhausted all avenues, though. Without the truth, that is, and I refuse to tell the truth.”
Blair settled back into her seat.
Maxine, my faithful little monster.
It was nice not being the one who ran around begging, manipulating, to get information. It was nice not being the bad guy, the fall guy.
Guy.
That was interesting. The way guy infiltrated everything. Or man. Man was the same. Repairman. Fireman. Otherman. As if women were less than, an afterthought, or simply didn’t exist at all. It was a problem that had plagued mankind—there it was again—since as far back as any historic text cared to remember. But without womankind, there would be no mankind.
What had men been good for, anyway? A whole portion of the species who couldn’t reproduce. Yes, there is something to be said for the sperm and egg meeting, and the genetic diversity that asexual reproduction can’t provide, but wouldn’t it be better not having to deal with complete dickheadedness? Perhaps she could only pose the question because she was a product of two different races, and, therefore more genetically diverse than most. None of this, however, made the male sex superior, it simply made suffering fools a part of Blair’s destiny.
Maxine’s allergy-induced sniffle drew Blair’s attention back. “I would apologize,” Maxine said, “but . . .”
“You don’t feel you need to.” Blair’s brow lifted. “Good. Apologies are weakness and I won’t have that kind of filth floating around my workspace.”
Maxine’s spine straightened and her chin ticked up an inch. “You’re so very right.”
Blair was never quite sure how to respond to that statement. It was like stating that the sky is up above and the ground down below. Of course they were. And of course she was right. If she’d thought there was even a chance she could be incorrect, she never would have said anything.
“I am,” she finally said.
Blair glanced under her massive desk as she stretched out her legs, admiring the way her slim calves delicately sloped before her ankles. With a sigh, she wiggled her bare toes in the fuzzy rug.
Although having Denny as a Key Corp soldier would benefit both her brother and the citizens of Westfall, Blair couldn’t be seen advocating on behalf of young Denny. That was Cath’s job as director of Career Services.
Director of Career Services. Blair chortled. Another example of a task she could perform better than her adoptive mother. Blair should really relax about the MediCenter directorial position. She was truly the best option. She might as well have been the only option.
But they could always give it to Cath . . .
Blair shook her head.
Denny. That’s who this was about. Her poor lost little brother. The only man who’d earned her love, her trust. The one that all men should be fashioned after. Sweet, sweet Denny . . .
As always, Blair would have to pick up the slack.
She drummed her fingers along the metal-studded armrest and focused on the bare wall behind Maxine. Blair had created something from nothing before. She’d created herself, hadn’t she? Sure, her parents’ titles and Cath’s titles had helped, but she’d done all the real work, all the hard work. All she needed now was that same tiny edge, just the slightest handhold . . .
Blair pressed her palms against her desk and pushed herself from her chair. “Maxine, did you see Major Owens in the Zone Seven video?”
XXVIII
Major Rhett Owens arrived at Blair’s office twenty-two minutes later. His custom-made Key Corp–red officer’s jacket accentuated the thickly coiled muscles and tapered waist that his fire-retardant Zone Seven uniform had swallowed up. Blair’s gaze slid from the towering officer to her petite blond assistant and back again. The three of them could make quite the trio, two gorgeous blonds flanking her like porcelain bookends.
Blair leaned against the side of her desk and motioned to the chair across from her. “Would you like to sit, Major? Or were you planning on leaving us?”
Rhett strode over, unbuttoned his coat, and stiffly lowered himself into the chair. “Not at all. It’s an honor. A real honor. When your girl, Maxie, reached out—”
“Maxine,” the assistant corrected as she crossed her arms over her chest. “Or should I call you Maj Owe?”
Blair’s eyebrow rose. “Ms. Wyndham,” she insisted, after a brief struggle to recall her assistant’s surname. Normally Blair wouldn’t care whether Maxine was addressed by her first or last name. It was her assistant’s name and therefore her assistant’s decision. But this wasn’t about Maxine’s name. No, this was about power. About laying a strong, unshakable foundation. If Rhett was going to work for her, he would know who was in charge.
Rhett’s temples flexed with a quick clench of his jaw. “When Ms. Wyndham called, I thought to myself, You’re finally getting the recognition you deserve.”
Blair dragged her nails along her desk as she circled it, moving closer to Rhett. “And what if you were here to be reprimanded?”
Rhett snorted. “There’s no way. I do everything correctly. By the book.”
“Because . . .” Blair paused, lifting her eyebrows as silence spilled into the room. No, it wasn’t a question. It was a test.
Rhett rested his elbows on the armrests and clasped his hands. “I’m not sure what you know about Key Corp forces, Ms. Scott, but we pride ourselves on following orders. I happen to be one of the few who gets to give them—”
Blair’s toes dug into her pointed high heels as Rhett stuffed the pause with a tight wriggle of his square shoulders.
The corner of Rhett’s thin lips twitched with a smirk as he continued. “But I do so with the Key in mind. Protecting the corporation and its citizens are numbers one and two in my book.”
Paper rustled as Maxine flipped the page of the paper pad she busily scribbled notes into. As she’d mentioned before the Major’s arrival, there were some things only Blair needed access to.
Precious little monster.
Blair perched on the edge of her onyx desk. “And special projects. How are you with those, Major?”
Again, his shoulders wriggled with self-importance. “None too big for me, Ms. Scott. I can handle any assignment you can think to give. Or I know the right man for the job.” He shifted slightly. “I make sure to keep myself available for higher-level assignments.” He glanced over his shoulder at Maxine before he leaned forward and whispered, “I’m sure you know what I mean. There are some tasks that aren’t worth our pay grade.”
Blair’s cuticles ached as her nails bit the lip of her desk. Rhett’s smugness was a palpable grit that hung in the air around him like dust. “Well, Major, it seems that I contacted the right man.” She peeled her fingers away from the desk and forced them, loose and relaxed, in her lap. “My brother. He’s a bit—” Blair pursed her lips. Denny was a hard person to describe. Every time she thought she did an adequate job, the word loser floated in the air, and popped on the tongue of whoever she’d been talking to like an acrid bubble. Blair had fired the last person to call him a loser. Her brother wasn’t a loser. Purposeless? Unmotivated? Uninspired? Yes, yes, and yes. But, with the right push, there was no reason Denny wouldn’t be as successful as Blair was. And she knew exactly which buttons to press. “Denny is a little unmotivated. The Key Corp guard would be the perfect place for him to find his way. Plus, he’s a Scott. Once he’s on the right path, he’ll be unstoppable.”
Rhett relaxed back into his seat. “So his testing showed that he has an aptitude for the armed guard? That’s gr
eat. We can always use new talent. Don’t get enough of it, if you ask me. I’ll be sure to teach him everything he needs to know. You don’t need to worry about a thing, Ms. Scott. I make sure to keep my men busy.” With a squint, he raised his hands and pointed them straight ahead. “Focused. As they say, idle hands are more likely to get caught up in Eos.”
Blair forced her grimace into an empty smile. “I don’t believe I’ve heard that one, Major.”
“Echo scoops up anyone prone to . . .” Rhett waved his hand in Blair’s direction as he chose his next word, “wandering. Brainwashes them and makes them a part of Eos.”
Blair’s brow creased and her stomach knotted. She could not abide this windbag knowing more than her. “Maxine, were you aware of an Echo?”
Without looking up from her diligent note taking, Maxine shook her head.
“Our intel names Echo as the leader of the Eos cell here in the New American West Coast. This Echo character tops the Most Wanted list.” Rhett snorted. “Ms. Wyndham wouldn’t have been privy to that kind of information.”
Maxine ceased writing and stood. “Going back a bit, Rhett.” She cocked her head and smiled at the Major as she would a lost child as she took a seat in the chair next to him. “May I call you Rhett?”
Major Owens opened his mouth, but Maxine continued, slipping into the space between breath and word before Rhett could utter a sound. “Blair’s brother has an aptitude for the medical sciences, not the armed guard. However, as she stated, medical isn’t the best place for him.”
Rhett’s brow wrinkled as his expression twisted into shock. “The best place for him is wherever the Key says he should be. My career is no joke, Ms. Wyndham. It takes a certain kind of man to do what I do. To see what I see and not be affected by it.”
With a subtle wave of her hand, Blair shooed Maxine out of the chair and back to her corner. “I couldn’t agree more, Major.” Blair settled into the chair next to him. “A special kind of man. A strong man. An intelligent man. You are that man.” Blair forced the sneer from her lips as Rhett’s chest puffed. “Major Owens, you are the embodiment of who a Key Corp soldier should be.”
