by Holly Hook
“You...you can tell me.” Spill your secrets.
“Come on, Ember. I've given you plenty of clues,” Jeremy says with a grin. “I'd have thought you'd have figured it out by now. Piece by piece, little by little. That's the only way you could cope. And you must have heard about my 'funeral', at the very least. They televised it, closed casket, after I broke from my sperm donor's pressure and killed myself.”
“What?” I ask as a tornado of emotion spins up. “You...they made everyone think you were dead...you're saying that you're...”
Justin Loftis?
My crush?
Justin Loftis?
The teen actor turned activist, who died at seventeen, having killed himself after his asshole father tried to cut him down all his life?
Jeremy presses his finger against my lips and shakes his head.
“Do not say it out loud. For both of our sakes.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
I can’t suck air into my lungs. My heart races and tingles sweep across my whole body.
How is this the most terrifying and the best night of my life?
“Say nothing at all.” Jeremy locks his elbow with mine again and marches me closer to his place, where the guards wait to let us back inside.
Poker face times a thousand, Ember.
I keep my eyes downcast as if he's just reprimanded me, and I swallow as he takes me back over the threshold and into the corridor that must connect the residence to one of the famous wings. A few people mill back and forth, looking at the displays behind glass and at the photos of past Presidents on the walls.
I'm on a cloud.
Am I seriously arm-locked with Justin Loftis, or who used to be Justin Loftis?
Maybe I’m on a storm cloud, but I can't feel my feet hitting the floor as Jeremy leads me back to the party. His nostrils flare as if he's sniffing someone out, probably Beatrice, and he sweeps me back into the East Room. He tightens his grasp, but this time, it's gently, as if to remind me I will get through this night.
“You still need to meet my father,” Jeremy says, straightening and looking around. “He needs to see my catch.”
“I don't see him.” President Haywood has vanished, and so have his guards, though a few more stand on the periphery, watching through black lenses. Everyone is being watched here.
“Neither do I,” he says, studying the area. “He must have gone off somewhere. It happens sometimes.”
I shudder with nerves. I've met Jeremy's “mother” but not the big cheese yet, and when I do, what do I say to him? Am I supposed to be polite, or am I supposed to unleash fire and fury? Jeremy has said nothing other than to stay in character, which I assume means that I need to bring up gutting FHDA to him. He wants to do that. Yes. And everyone will expect me to put up a fight.
“Jeremy, I have to pee,” I admit. “Where's the bathroom?”
He frowns at me. “Seriously. Humans. You always have your disgusting needs. The closest is across this room, and right through that hall. Provided you can find your way over there.” He gives me a nasty smile, as if daring me to walk through here by myself. “But I’d rather you go before I drink from you again.”
I eye the vampires sneaking glances at us and shudder. Zara and Beatrice have gone, but a small crowd takes up the archway that they occupied before Jeremy pulled me aside. I don't see Haywood there, but I step away from Jeremy as he releases my elbow, almost like he's shaking me off for the crime of having bodily functions.
“Thanks,” I grit, turning away.
“Be right back,” he orders.
Instead of going through the vamps, which I'm sure Jeremy doesn't actually want me to do, I turn to go back into the corridor where I think I saw a bathroom not too long ago. Jeremy says something, but I ignore him like I'm storming away, and I weave past vampires and rich human wannabes who have probably had plastic surgery. At last, I spot the bathrooms down the hall, but a pair of voices emerging from an open doorway makes me stop cold in my tracks.
The hallway quiets as a few couples clear out, and a server with a cart of pitchers goes out into the garden. I'm standing next to an open doorway that seems to lead into a room full of plates on display. I can't see who's inside, but the smooth voice echoing off the walls of the plate room alerts me to who's inside. I've heard his voice many times on TNH, being analyzed and picked apart by vicious anchors intent on twisting the words.
“You understand my voters expect me to put my money where my mouth is,” President Haywood is saying. His shadow falls on the floor and shifts, and there's a second shadow standing beside him. “If I do not show them I want to cut funding to the FHDA through the Act, then they'll believe that I want all those onerous rules that they fear. Some Spades are accusing me of shifting too far to the Heart side of the spectrum.”
Holy shit.
Seriously? President Haywood is feet away, and without his security? That's insanity.
This must be a conversation he doesn’t even trust them to hear.
I reach into my purse and draw out my phone before I can think about it. However, I don't dare lift it into the doorway. Haywood's senses are so heightened that he'll probably sense the movement of the air molecules. And I don't want any vampire, least of all him, to find out what I'm trying to do.
I hit Record.
Holy shit. Can you get into any more trouble?
Though my phone only shows the hallway, I pray the audio is up to par. My heart thumps. This must be a rare moment, and I don't even know why I'm doing this. If the Secret Service comes searching for their charge, I'm beyond toast. Will recording a conversation be grounds to kill me, even though I'm claimed by Jeremy?
“I understand that,” a second man says before coughing. A human male. “But my business depends on the FHDA to turn a profit. It's a rock and a hard place, I know. Cutting their funding could mean the end of Dream Developers.” He punctuates his sentence with another, weak cough.
Oh my god.
Is this...
Is this...
“Acton, I know you are one of my biggest donors,” Haywood says, as if he's comforting a child. “And I have had Congress push through lots of helpful legislation. You are free of the Heart Party's oppressive monitoring. But I fear I cannot help you with all of your needs. I know you wish to become a vampire, but turning someone so old will raise eyebrows. It's not done often.”
“This isn't about that,” Acton says, though the disappointment in his voice is obvious.
The CEO of Dream Developers is here.
He's feet away from me. This parasite might not suck blood, but he's just as destructive as the vamps. He's a tapeworm trying to be friends with malaria.
A firestorm rages into my cheeks, and I shake as I hold the phone to the edge of the doorway.
“This is about the future of my company. My shareholders. Without the profit margins that FHDA's cheap loans allow, we won't be able to attract the investors that we do now. Lax laws have helped, yes, but we need the funding, too. I doubt anyone will notice if you cancel the cut to FHDA. Goodman is already on board.”
“We will hand a victory to the Heart Party. And I will look weak. Housing is for the deserving, not those who are sucking on the government's teat.”
“I agree. We are doing the Spade Party's work. Surely you can tell Goodman that it is in the best interest of the party and its wealthiest donors to do this one political move that history won’t remember. I would love to donate to you again and help you get your second term, but you need to work with me.” Acton's getting desperate.
Silence follows.
My lungs burn as I hold my breath.
I've recorded two minutes of this bullshit.
Colors dance in front of my eyes as a pounding headache forms. I'm going to blow.
“Then perhaps I can make it work, just this once,” Haywood says.
A toothpick holding up my brain just snaps as my ears ring. I lunge towards the door, but a strong hand clamps down on my sho
ulder and pulls me back. Jeremy. I see his black suit and his hair from the corner of my vision, and he wraps me in another bear hug as he lifts me and carries me backwards, towards the party, without a sound. Jeremy clamps his hand over my mouth and snatches my phone with the other.
“I heard,” he whispers in my ear.
The corridor blurs as he carries me, and we're back in the East Room, right in the crowd. Tears form in my eyes. The world is a blur of cream, white, and gold. Jeremy doesn't let me down, though I want him to, and people just stare at him manhandling me. I resist kicking and no one says a word, though two vampire ladies grin at each other. I'm entertainment again. Nothing. Blood. Food. Money. Investments.
“Mmmph!” I shout.
“Then stop making me do this,” Jeremy says with a laugh.
A few others laugh, and I struggle before I let out a breath and force myself to still. The fates of millions are being decided over blood and money. There's no point to these political parties. They're a front. It's us, and the elite.
But I can’t let the vampires see me like this. I hold back the tears. No. I will not show that. Nobody can see. I will not let that happen.
Jeremy slowly lifts his hand.
“Let me down,” I growl.
“I told you to use the other bathroom,” Jeremy says, slowly lowering me until me feet touch the carpet of the East Room.
I reach for my phone, but apparently he's put it back into my purse, hiding what I've done. But now is not the time to thank him.
We face each other.
He shoots me a deathly serious look, lowering his strong eyebrows. For a moment, his eyes take on the cold of a statue, and I can see no trace of Justin Loftis. “Are you going to behave yourself now?”
“I’m not five years old.”
People slowly return to their conversations all around us, and low chatter and classical music fills the air. A musician has taken to the piano now, and a sweet tune floats through the room. All is normal here.
And then President Haywood walks into the East Room, appearing beside Acton.
Acton looks like the photos I've seen of him on Dream Developers' archived website. He's pudgy in the cheeks, with black, graying hair and a deceptive, commercial smile. He smiles as he sips what must be a fancy drink that only parasites like him can afford.
Jeremy stands there and waits, pretending to survey the other side of the room. “My father still needs to look you over.”
He’s giving me a chance.
A real chance I can take without getting myself killed.
My vision seems to close in on just one man, the source of my agony and this entire mess, and I ball my fists, squaring off as he approaches, oblivious.
“Andrew Acton,” I say, once he's just ten feet away.
The two men freeze in place, and I almost forget that the President is right there beside him. I forget that two dozen others mingle in the East Room with us. And I forget that everything I do here is up for judgment.
Moneybloodeyesorebaby—
Jeremy waves in my face. “Ember, stop. You need to meet--”
“Not now.” I don't want to talk to Haywood, though he's next on my shit list.
Acton narrows his eyes at me. “And this is?”
Here stands the man who ruined Silvia's life, kicked countless seniors out of their houses, and threatened to destroy my entire future.
“So you donate the money that comes off our backs. Why else would you be at this dinner?” I ask, resisting the urge to cross my arms. I lean forward. “Tell me. Is it a good living, making people homeless?”
Acton, to my shock, backs away and sloshes the golden liquid in his glass. “Who is this woman?” He looks at Haywood.
Haywood clears his throat. “Control her, Jeremy.” His red-lined eyes fall on his son, the one he turned. But they sparkle with interest. “Don’t just play. You can do it.”
Jeremy seizes my arm and pulls me back. “Ember, this is not the place. We are in polite society.” He rolls those last two words in salt.
“I asked you a question,” I say to Acton as I pull against Jeremy. “Does it pay well, ruining the lives of taxpayers?” The same could go for any of these company donors. “Can you answer that for us?” I lunge forward and dig my heel into the carpet.
Acton plays the victim, letting his hand shake. Some of his drink spills over onto the floor, to a few gasps. “You don't know what you're talking about. Dream Developers creates homes. Why are you so acting so uncivilized in this beautiful place?”
Jeremy bear hugs me again and pulls me back. “You're not ready for this.”
A few people laugh, and Acton steps behind Haywood as Jeremy literally carries me past his father and towards the other end of the East Room.
“You're going home,” he says, loud enough for everyone to hear. “I'm calling a cab, and then I'm having a serious discussion with you.”
Someone applauds Jeremy, and I kick, not caring how I appear anymore. Then I deflate in his grasp as he takes me away from the one who is causing so much pain. And for what? To kiss the vampires' asses? He can kiss them as hard as he wants with the other corporate leeches and lobbyists.
The entryway is empty except for two Secret Service guards, one of whom is Nathan, and Jeremy motions to him as he sets me down. “She needs to leave,” he says in a rocky tone.
“I see,” Nathan tells him. Apparently, Nathan planned for this possibility.
“And I will not reappear with her again until she's set straight. Call the driver.”
Jeremy sets me down at the door. I know he's trying to help by making this torture party as short for me as possible. Did he know Acton was here and didn't tell me? For all I know, that's why he whisked me outside in a hurry. Shit. Sure, he revealed two big secrets, but he could have told me so I'd have time to react and figure out what to do.
Nathan says something into his radio, and the other guard remains at the door, still in sunglasses, as Nathan motions for us to enter the limo that's now parked in front of the White House, right under the overhang. I storm away from Jeremy, aware of the other guards standing out front, and get into the backseat of the limo. Jeremy follows me like an aggressive predator as he gets in beside me and slams the door. Ed looks back at me and frowns, but no shock comes over his face. He's seen this type of thing before, then.
Maybe I won't look so bad.
But that's not the point.
Acton deserves every ounce of shame I could pile onto him, and more.
“We are returning Ember to her apartment and I am having a serious talk with her about what it means to be claimed,” Jeremy orders as Nathan takes the seat in front of us. He sniffs again, searching the entire limo and turning his gaze out each window. If someone tries to attack, he's on it.
I'm glad he's going with us, and that I'm now in the company of people who don't want to kill me. Well, maybe. The limo slowly pulls away from the nightmare party, where corporations donate to Haywood so they can keep bending the rest of us over. It's where party lines collapse and it becomes a free for all on the populace.
I want to throw up, though I knew it all along.
I breathe in and out, each intake a hurricane. My nerves only calm as we leave Pennsylvania Avenue behind and roll back into the downtown area. Ed says nothing, but he looks at me often through the rear-view mirror and I read fear in his eyes. He fears what Jeremy will do to me once we're out of the public eye. Apparently, abuse is common between vampires and the claimed. Abuse and taking advantage.
That's good for us, because I'm not sure we can trust Ed. He's too scared to stand up to the vamps and the system, and probably got where he is by keeping his mouth shut.
That's something I can't do.
We pull up to my apartment complex and I let out a breath, trying to collect my thoughts. I'm glad to be away from that cesspit. How do I process it all? Jeremy has to do this balancing act, and he has to watch out for me, and he's trying to start a new political party th
at can change things for the better?
And he's also my high school crush?
“Something is going on,” Nathan says, sniffing. “I smell blood.”
We've stopped, and the two guards near the front door have vanished from their posts. The apartment lobby is also empty behind the glass, though the receptionist, a short woman, is pushing a chair under the handles of the double doors.
What the hell? She's never blocked off the entrance before.
Jeremy shifts in his seat, making his suit ruffle. “So do I.” Then his eyes glass over and he grabs my hand, squeezing. “It's coming from inside the apartment building. I think...shit. Someone got attacked. Someone who doesn’t have a secure room.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Jeremy tightens his grasp on my hand as if to hold me there, but I tear away from him and shove open the limo door. Pulling down my red skirt, I dart up the sidewalk to the door of the apartment building.
Could someone have--
No.
Not Silvia.
Jeremy must have smelled something else. And there are others in the building, too.
But I pissed Beatrice off after Jeremy claimed me. And Beatrice knows full well that Silvia and I hang together.
The receptionist, who I've never paid much attention to, looks up at me. Her brown eyes are hard, her wrinkles cut into her from the years spent in this place. My heart races as our gazes meet. I barely hear Jeremy opening the door behind me, and Nathan protesting for him to stay back.
She shakes her head at me and frowns.
“Let me in,” I demand, pounding on the door. “Right now.”
“We are under lockdown.”
Fury storms in my chest, and I raise my fist, holding it above the glass. “I have a friend in there and you are going to let me in.” My mind spins, throwing up debris and lashing at the inside of my skull. I'm shaking. Dizzy. This receptionist must be used to this. They're trying to keep it quiet. “Let me inside, or I'm going to raise hell and alert everyone in this building!”
