by Holly Hook
“Hello?”
“Oh. Ember. I didn't wake you, did I?”
“No. I just got home.” Why is she calling right now, before most people are even awake?
“I hear things are heating there in Washington,” she says. “In a week, they vote on the Federal Agency Reallocation Act.”
“Yes.” My tone is gray and dead.
“You don't sound very confident,” Emmy says, an obvious frown in her voice.
I let out a breath. “That's because I'm not.” Can the universe rub this in my face a little harder?
“I tried to call Silvia, but she didn't pick up,” Emmy says. “How are the two of you holding up?”
I hold down rage. She’s unknowingly making me face it again.
But how can I tell Emmy that she helped to doom us both? Inflicting that type of agony on her is something that takes a level of cruelty that only the vampires have. A sob works its way into my throat, but I swallow it. This line is probably being monitored, and if I blab the truth, someone will burst through my door in no time and decide I'm unfit to live another week. “I think she might have left, because I haven't seen her. The pressure here is horrible, and Goodman is going to block the Act from being the way we want.”
“Oh. That's unfortunate. People leave Washington all the time, but you haven't. Ember, you have what it takes.” Is that strain in Emmy's voice?
Now is not the time for a pep talk. But if she wants to give me one to help her feel better, that's fine. “I don't know what to do.”
“Surely you have a weapon,” Emmy says. “Maybe one you've forgotten about. Have you learned anything about any influential politicians, for instance?”
“My only weapon is my mouth, and it's just gotten me in trouble,” I admit.
Emmy forces a laugh. “Give yourself more credit, Ember. You've visited places most people never get to visit and probably seen things the media would drool over. I bet you have lots of things recorded in that brilliant mind of yours.”
I jolt and a shudder races up my spine.
Recording.
She's right.
I recorded President Haywood conspiring with Andrew Acton.
And until now, I forgot.
Are you a mind reader? I want to ask, but I keep my mouth shut. “Maybe I do,” I admit.
“That's the spirit. There will always be something in Washington. All politicians have things hanging over their heads, most of all voters. The media are always waiting like vultures to feast on the remains of shattered pride.”
I swallow as the thick storm clouds finally clear.
I've been so caught up in my hell for a week that I've failed to remember that I've got a nuke waiting on my phone.
“Emmy, thanks. You've just helped me immensely,” I say. “I've got to get off now, because I have some work to do.”
“Good luck. And by the way, you will always have allies, Ember. You're not alone.”
“I do?”
“Yes. And one of them suggested I call you and give you a little pep talk.”
My heart swells.
Did Jeremy have to do with this?
Is he using Emmy as a relay between us, when it's not safe for him to do this himself?
“You can do this, Ember,” she says, ending the call.
I can avenge Silvia after all and maybe, just maybe, stop Dream Developers in their tracks.
And I can do that by working with the mind-numbing force that drove many, many parental rants throughout my childhood and sent me hiding in my room for hours on end.
I can make President Haywood change his mind about letting Acton win.
And that means doing something I never thought I'd do.
Calling TNH News.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
It turns out that when Jeremy shoved my phone back into my purse, he saved the recording of Haywood and Acton talking. I pore over it for the rest of that morning, unable to sleep, going over every word. Their voices are clear, and Haywood's voice sounds just as it does on the news with that smooth, buttery flow only he achieves.
It's enough to make it obvious Haywood is up to something dirty.
Sure, keeping that funding for the FHDA benefits the Heart Party, but he's also taking a bribe. TNH News will focus on that. No matter what Haywood does, he loses because TNH News has a goal to piss off its viewers twenty-four seven.
And if all goes well, the rest of the media will pick up on that story, too. That’s where the kill is going to be, because Haywood’s voters watch anything other than TNH News.
And then Haywood will have no choice but to make Goodman cut FHDA's funding if he wants to get re-elected in a couple of years.
I’m facing my phobia for Silvia. I'm going to finish this fight for her, even if I never get to go back home or see my family again.
Once I have some coffee and gather my thoughts, I get on my new laptop and then think better of shooting an email by using a government-provided device. They probably monitor this computer and IP address, though I've never used it. And could someone trace the video back to me? I've got to take this revenge for the millions who have suffered under Dream Developers and all this corruption, but I can't die in order to do it.
Public library time, then.
After I upload my video to the cloud, I get ready to go. At least my vid doesn't show any footage other than a bit of a doorway and the corridor marble. Once I’ve got the footage uploaded, I erase it from my phone.
Since the sun is fully up by now, I'm safe to go.
It's easy to have a cab take me to a cafe near the library itself. I'm sure my app records everywhere I go, and so does the GPS. After some thought, I walk into the cafe, stuff my phone under a loose seat cushion, and hurry out again.
The library isn't far away, and I'm glad that the computers aren't for members only. I just have to sign up for computer use on a clipboard, and the librarians are friendly enough and don't question it when I write my name as Serena Brighton. I get a card with a pass code, and from there, it's easy to log onto TNH Online.
Tips, Terrors, or Outrage? Yeah, they call their contact section exactly that. I feel slimy for even working with these people who just divide families and tell millions that everyone not with them is the enemy. But I type out an email, telling them I have to stay anonymous, and I upload the short video file right from my cloud. Then I eye my wording. No. I can do so much better than just asking to be anonymous. What would TNH find juicy?
Beatrice.
The Heart Party hero is exposing Spade Party corruption. Jeremy even said so himself that a few always show up at the White House parties to find some dirt. The story clicks.
TNH probably won't care about the fact that this video came from an account that is not Beatrice, and that it came from the public library during the day. They'll roll with that story. And if anyone deserves targeting from the Spade Party, it's her.
She probably killed--
I type.
I can't say who I am, but I was at the White House for the donors' party. Spade Party donors surrounded us, and it was hard to be brave, but I had to expose the corruption we saw, somehow.
Of course, I can’t be too obvious. I smile for the first time in a week. Beatrice and her mother were the only Heart Party folks there, according to Jeremy.
Perfect.
After making a burner email account for TNH to email me back, I click send.
* * * * *
“You did what?”
Now that it's Saturday, and Jeremy is a bit more free to do what he wants, he's come to my apartment for the first evening in a week. He has just barely shut my door behind him, and Nathan has just positioned himself there when I tell him about my move.
“And you told Emmy to call me?” I ask, looking up and down his well-tailored body.
“I may have sent her an anonymous text with Nathan's help,” Jeremy says. “Ember. That plan is so evil. I love it. Even I couldn't have thought of that myself.” He smiles, sho
wing his fangs, and I'm glad to see it. “It's about time Beatrice gets what she deserves. I hate that I haven’t been able to kill her.”
So evil. That's how I feel. My time here has already darkened me into a different person, but is that a bad thing? Maybe something good can come out of this.
“Jeremy. I know you do,” I say.
He crosses his arms and leans against the wall. “I have killer instincts like the rest of them, but my schedule is a bit, let’s say, difficult to work around. I’ve been looking for ways to wipe her presence off this planet.”
I shudder because something savage flashes in Jeremy’s eyes. He might be Justin Lofits, but he’s not the same as he was before.
“Won’t that make you become like the rest of them? If you kill her?” I ask, trying to hide my discomfort.
“Only if it’s a human, and done by my hand,” he says. “That receptionist? Gone. No problem. But Beatrice? Other vampires are tougher. And me starting a war between us would doom my father politically. He would cast me out of the family and I would give up all the protection.”
Nathan nods. I eye Jeremy. Yes. He’s a killer like the rest of them, but there’s still a human in control of that beast. My lower stomach heats at the thought.
Then Jeremy continues. “You needed someone to kick you in the ass yesterday.” Then he turns to Nathan. “Is there any way to make sure TNH pins this on Beatrice? Or gives her credit, shall we say?”
Nathan nods, staying the professional that he is. “Now that the plan is in motion, we need to make it work. However, I'll need to keep this quiet. And you need to clear yourself of all involvement, too.” He glares at Jeremy through those sunglasses. “If we get caught even remotely working against your father, it will be far more than your reputation on the line. Remember what happened to Carl?”
Nathan does not approve of this. I take a step back because he’s aiming some of that vitriol at me. Okay, so it was stupid to talk about my plan in front of a Secret Service agent, even one who dodged his kill and hates the system right along with Jeremy. I've put him in a dangerous position. And I don't want to know what happened to Carl.
“They will give Beatrice credit, trust me,” I say. “I'd know. That's how they work. The Heart Party are angels, and the Spade Party are demons.”
“I know how TNH works,” Jeremy says. “Nathan's right, though. This could be very dangerous. Beatrice could find herself with nothing left to lose.”
“I had no other option but to play dirty.”
Jeremy slowly stalks closer, suit ruffling as he widens his grin.
“That is how it works here. Of course, you need to keep this quiet, at least for now. We have one more week before the vote.”
“And then what?” I ask, breath escaping.
Jeremy extends an arm. “Then we'll take it one day at a time.”
He pulls me close, making me stand there, licking his lips as he looks up and down my body. Sweat breaks out over my skin as he caresses my arms, massaging my flesh, teasing me.
“What are you doing?” I ask. “If we're going to make out--”
“Beg,” he tells me with a flash in his eyes.
“You're such an ass.”
Then Jeremy shocks me by sliding his hands around my waist in a lightning motion. “Oh, I am?” He lifts me and the ceiling rises, and then I'm tilting...tilting...upside down.
“Jeremy!”
If my shirt weren't tucked in, it would have fallen away to reveal my next layer to him, and the thought sends a strange shudder across my skin. I struggle to focus on his legs and his hips, which are the only thing I can see from this angle. And I have to admit, the view isn't bad.
“You said I was an ass. Well, here you go. My ass.” Then he lets me down gently, and I spot Nathan standing there at the apartment door, shaking his head.
Jeremy appears above me and offers a hand to help me up. We have no privacy here, but I stand and let him lead me to my room, where we collapse into each other's arms. Jeremy's lips caress mine at first, and then once again we tighten our grasps around each other. Jeremy tilts his head back and allows me to kiss him up and down his neck, and he returns the favor, moving his lips along my sensitive flesh. His fangs once again graze my skin, making my mostly healed marks tingle, and when he nibbles on my collarbone, a gasp escapes me.
“We can't go too far,” I say, heart pounding.
Jeremy is my every dream of sexy, but...but...
What's the condition?
Am I good enough?
He breathes out. “I know. At least, not yet. I could hurt you.” He appears above me as I collapse on my mattress, and I slide my hand along the front of his suit, shifting my palm over the white shirt underneath. Jeremy smiles at my touch, and he collapses beside me. “You know, I've only been a vampire for two years.”
“I know,” I say, thinking of the funeral. “I can't believe you're here.” I remove my hand and hesitate before tracing my finger along his jawline.
Eugenicist.
They're trying to destroy us.
Listen, Ember. Pay attention to what's going on! You need to watch TNH and get educated.
I pause.
Jeremy frowns. “What's wrong?”
I breathe out. Nathan hasn't followed us, but I know he's hanging by the front door, keeping guard.
“Politics tore my family apart,” I force. “My brother got kicked out of the house for being in the Spade Party.”
Jeremy puts his hand on my arm as we lie there on our sides, facing each other. “Ember. It's not fair, and that's what most of the vampires want. They control the media. The Hearts have TNH, and the Spades have SPN. Keep the Hearts and Spades hating each other, and it's so much easier to keep control, even if we vampires fight among ourselves, too.”
My inner heat vanishes. Despite Jeremy's presence, I hold down a sob. “My parents would throw me out just for talking to you.”
“Ember.”
I take a breath as he curls his fingers into my flesh.
“Then they're not worth the shit you stepped in. Trust me, sometimes it's best to get away. My father is a part of the reason I came here to Washington to do activism. I was never good enough. No matter how many movies I starred in, no matter how much money I made, he always put me down. I refused to feed his ego and make my career about him.”
I gulp. “So that theory had weight.”
“Either way,” Jeremy says, “I would have wound up dead to him. Good riddance.”
“Jeremy, I'm so sorry. Does he know you're alive?”
His green eyes harden. “No. My suicide was so bloody that the funeral was closed casket, and my father’s devastation was about the spotlight moving away from him.”
I tighten my jaw. I want to commit murder for Jeremy's sake. The abuse was there the whole time. Jeremy's father, Sean Loftis, always posing in photo shoots with his son. He always sat at the interviews, talking about how he raised and coached a great actor. And Justin would sit there with those stress lines around his eyes that even as a vampire, he still has...
“I hope he rots,” I tell him.
Jeremy smiles. “He'll wither now.”
“Why else did you take up activism?”
He shifts on the bed, and I regret asking the question. But Jeremy looks at the ceiling and works his own jaw. “There’s no happy ending.”
“It never is. Otherwise, people don't come here.”
“When I was little, my mother got cancer. She put off getting tested because she was so scared of the cost. We had little money back then. She was an actress in commercials, and my dad was an actor in an amusement park.” Then he turns to lie on his back, as if the ceiling and the swirling pattern holds answers. “If the insurance hadn't jacked her around when she sought treatment, she probably would have survived.”
I sit up. “Your activism. You were here to kick the health insurance industry in the nuts.” I knew Justin Loftis had lost his mother young, but the magazines never gave the ho
rrific details.
Now I know why.
“Yes. It looked good. They put me on a Health Panel. I thought I could make a difference,” he says as the monster returns to his eyes. “It was a trap. I was stupid. My father would have had a field day letting me know. And then Benjamin Haywood and his wife chose me. I could bring my wealth to the Spade Party.”
I gulp. I can't imagine. “They're horrible.”
How did you dodge your kill?
But before I can ask, Jeremy pushes himself off the bed as he looks out the window.
Full night has fallen.
And I hate it. That means he has to leave, because if he's caught here visiting me and not acting like a possessive abuser, we could both get killed.
Without Jeremy, I'll have zero protection.
“Ember, I can't wait to see the fallout from your plot,” he says. “If anyone deserves it, it's Beatrice.” He leans down and offers one last teasing kiss before hurrying to the doorway of my bedroom. “Stay safe. You're still claimed by me, but I suggest you remain in the apartment tonight, and keep working on your plan only in the daytime.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I spend the next few days going back to the public library during the day to check my burner account.
And TNH is responding just as I thought they would.
I can barely contain my excitement, rolling the messages around in my head, over and over. That's all I have because I won't dare print them and carry them with me.
At night, our Panel work continues. Beatrice is oblivious and Jeremy parades me around, taking an occasional sip from my bite wounds. Becky takes us on a whirlwind tour of the Senate building and the House building with her leading the way. We speak to several more lawmakers while I have to pretend that I’m losing hope of having anything go as planned.
But at least we don't see Goodman or Warrington again. They cancel that last meeting we’re supposed to have with the committee, much to Becky's disappointment. Apparently, they haven't done this before.
Their staffers always seem to walk around, though. I spot Davis always hanging at the corner, watching Jeremy as he parades me into the building at the start of each night. The scarred woman and another assistant always seem to use the same bathroom I am, no matter which one I pick. I want to tell them to mind their own business, but I don’t think I get to argue my case.
