She sat on the floor, her legs going out from under her so that she landed hard on her rear end. Mango pressed his head into her lap and she methodically petted him. “We’re Messengers, Mango.”
West’s scalp ached from yanking his hands through his hair so often in the last couple of hours. What was he thinking, letting Clover go to the Academy alone?
Was she lost? It was nearly inconceivable that anything worse than that had happened to her. Knowing that she was probably just wandering around somewhere didn’t stop a chill up his spine. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t know exactly where his sister was.
Yes, it was almost inconceivable that any of the terrible thoughts in his head were actually happening. Except here he was, conceiving.
He knew that no real, violent crime had been allowed to happen since the walls went up. He had faith in that. Faith enough that he’d sent his sister alone to a viper’s nest of primary school bullies who’d gone all summer without their favorite target.
She trusted too easily. Even people it was obvious she should be permanently wary of. They apologized when it suited their needs, and she believed them when they said they were her friends.
Usually just before they made her the butt of some miserable joke.
West stalked back into the kitchen, opened a drawer, and picked up the blue folder holding his Company application. Less than three weeks from now, his little sister would be someone else’s worry. Someone else would freak out when she took off.
West sank down into a chair.
Clover never took off. She just wasn’t that girl.
So where was she?
He couldn’t call the guard. That would open a file in his sister’s name. His, too, for that matter. No good, all around. They’d treat Clover like a runaway and him like the guardian who couldn’t control her. The best they could hope for was that Clover would be allowed to keep her place at the Academy, under extra scrutiny. In the worst-case scenario, Clover would be sent to Foster City as soon as she was found.
And West? He didn’t know, but it wouldn’t be good. He’d involve the guard if he had to, but it hadn’t gotten there yet.
West put the folder back in the drawer, grabbed his jacket, and headed out of the house. He had maybe ninety minutes of light before sundown, when the curfew bells would ring and he’d better be indoors. Being caught out after the bells was to bring a lot of unnecessary trouble on a person. If he didn’t make it home on time, and the guard caught him, he’d be taken in for questioning and his chances of ever getting in at the Company would be close to zero.
It took twenty minutes to walk to the Kingston Estate, and then he wasted another ten pacing back and forth in front of the gate trying to make up his mind to knock on the door.
This was the delicate part, where he had to ask after his sister without making it obvious she was missing.
The front door opened as soon as his knuckles touched it. West stepped back, then squared his shoulders, trying to look like he belonged on the headmaster’s front porch even though his heart beat in his throat.
And then he saw Bridget, standing there with her hand on her hip and her head tilted so the end of her ponytail touched her bare shoulder.
He’d been nervous about talking to Kingston. This was worse.
“West? What are you doing here?”
“I’m looking for my sister.”
Her smile faded. “You think your sister is here?”
“No, I don’t think she’s here.” And then he peered past Bridget into the entrance of the house. An oil lamp on the table behind her gave everything a sort of warm glow and reminded West it was nearly dusk. “She isn’t, is she?”
“Why would she be here?”
“Bridget?” a male voice called from somewhere in the house. “Who’s at the door at this hour?”
Bridget lifted her pale eyebrows, as though she were wondering the same thing.
“My sister was at orientation today.” He hesitated, then decided to go with the truth. He wasn’t positive he’d be able to lie to her anyway. His words stuck in his throat as it was. “She never came home.”
“It isn’t dark yet. Clover probably got home while you were out looking for her.”
“You don’t understand. Clover—”
“Bridget?” Adam Kingston appeared behind his daughter, and West straightened again. “West Donovan. You shouldn’t be here.”
“My sister—”
Kingston held a hand up to stop him. “I’m sorry, but as I explained to Miss Donovan earlier today, we do not allow animals at the Academy.”
Although he had no idea what he expected Kingston to say, this was so far from it that it took West a minute to form a response. “Mango’s a service dog.”
It wasn’t like she’d hidden him. He went to her exams with her. He’d been at primary school with her since their father gave him to her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kingston said. “A rule is a rule.”
Bridget’s mouth opened, but when Kingston darted a look at her, she didn’t speak.
“You don’t understand—” West started to say, pulling himself back to the real problem, his missing sister, but Kingston cut him off again.
“She will be fine. I wouldn’t have sent her if I didn’t believe that. Miss Donovan is an extraordinary young woman, and the Company is better equipped to handle her special needs than the Academy is.”
The silence between them drew on long enough to become awkward before West broke it. “You sent my sister to the Company?”
Kingston pulled a cloth from his pocket and mopped his face. His pasty complexion went even paler. “She’s been accepted into the Mariner training track. That’s more than what most of our graduates can say, Mr. Donovan. Now, we wish you a good evening.”
“You sent my sister to be a Mariner?” That couldn’t be right. Even saying it out loud sounded ridiculous.
Bridget started to speak again and actually managed a squeak before her father pushed her farther into the house and slammed the door shut.
West stood rooted to their porch, feeling more than a little queasy. Clover was sent to the Company to join the Mariner track?
Clover went to the Company without telling him?
They couldn’t make her a Mariner. Could they? She was just a kid, barely out of primary school.
He backed away from the door and then walked toward the gate.
What the hell just happened?
The house door opened again and when West turned, he saw Bridget flying down the steps. He caught her to keep her from plowing right into him.
He looked at the house, expecting her father next, but didn’t see him. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just…just tell your sister to be careful, okay?”
He held her away from him by the shoulders. “Be careful of what?”
Bridget bit her bottom lip. Her eyes were Company blue. She had the kind of soft, fair skin that pinked up easily. “She’s different, right? I mean, she’s got the dog and the—”
Bridget flapped her hands, almost delicately, two or three times at her waist. West took her hands to stop her, then let them go when she froze. “Yes, but I don’t understand—”
“Bridget!” Her father yelled her name from the front porch.
West registered each second of the next moment like a still frame. Before he could insist that Bridget explain her warning, she rose to her toes and leaned toward him. His hands slid up her arms and around her back as she pressed her mouth against his.
She tasted like the strawberries that grew along the Kingston Estate fence. Her mouth slipped around to his ear and she whispered, “We need to talk.”
West nodded. He probably couldn’t have spoken if he tried. Not even to ask what they needed to talk about or where. He’d figure that out, somehow. And then time snapped back like a rubber band and she left him with more questions than answers.
chapter 6
Far and away the b
est prize that life has to offer is the chance to work hard at work worth doing.
—THEODORE ROOSEVELT, “SQUARE DEAL” SPEECH, SEPTEMBER 7, 1903
Clover was still missing when West went to work at dawn the next day.
He didn’t want to go. He needed to figure out where his sister was. But if he was missed at the farm, the guard would come look for him. They’d better find him on his deathbed, too, or there would be hell to pay. A missing sister was not an acceptable excuse for making someone else do his work.
What would he do, anyway? March into the Company offices and demand they turn her over?
All he could do was hope she’d be home when he returned.
He spent eight hours weeding and fertilizing cantaloupe on the verge of ripeness and trying not to think of all the things that could be happening right that minute to Clover. Inconceivable or not. Bridget’s warning the night before didn’t help. He still had to figure out a way to talk to her privately. At the moment, that seemed like an insurmountable task.
When he got home, he was filthy and exhausted. Worry and railing against his own imagination and the frustration of being completely unable to help or protect Clover had drained him. When he opened the door, he knew immediately she wasn’t there. The house was too empty. Too exactly how he had left it. Clover was a force unto herself, and he knew immediately that she had not been here.
He sat at the kitchen table and tried to sort out what he knew. Kingston sent Clover to the Company. The bastard. Maybe they put her right to work. It didn’t make much sense that they wouldn’t let her come home first, especially because she was a minor, but where else could she be?
Maybe someone had told their father, but no one had thought to let West know what was going on. James was an executioner doing Company work. It was possible that whoever Clover had been in contact with at the Company recognized her as his daughter. But West was her guardian. Someone should have let him know what was happening, instead of making him worry about the implications of trying to find out on his own.
What if something happened to Clover because West was too afraid that checking on her would ruin his own chances at the Company?
“I have to get out of here,” he said out loud to the empty house. Maybe Bridget was on her porch, waiting for him to come find out what she wanted to talk to him about.
And then the front door opened, and Clover was home.
Relief flooded West first, strong enough to make his knees weak. That was followed by a wave of rage that threatened to drown him. He sat without moving, trying to get control of himself before he spoke.
Clover stayed by the door. She let Mango off his leash and the dog remained at her side, looking up at West with a curiously tilted head. Clover looked as shaken as West felt as she kicked their mother’s white leather shoes across the living room.
“You’re mad at me,” Clover said.
Clover Jane Donovan, Queen of the Understatement. “You think?”
“Didn’t they tell you? They were supposed to. And it’s not like I had a choice.”
He stayed still in his chair, mostly because he didn’t feel he had control of his limbs and needed something stable under him. “No one told me anything. Including you.”
“They took back my acceptance, West. The headmaster sent me to the Company. It just happened really fast.”
“You couldn’t come home?”
“I was drafted. Mr. Bennett told me he was going to tell you.”
“Wait a minute. You were what?”
“Drafted.” Clover sat in a chair across from him. “You shouldn’t be so mad, anyway. It isn’t like you tell me everything that goes on in your life.”
“What are you talking about?” Did she know he’d signed up to start his Company training? He hadn’t kept that from her, exactly. He just hadn’t told her yet.
“You told me you failed your entrance exams.”
Oh. Damn.
“Why would you lie to me about that?”
“I didn’t think you’d understand,” he said.
“Understand what? That you couldn’t join the Academy and still take care of me?”
West exhaled. “Yeah. That.”
“You aren’t my father,” she reminded him.
Their father would have sent her to Foster City. “I know that.”
“But you constantly underestimate me, just the way he does.” She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can take care of myself.”
“No. You can’t.”
“I’m not a baby, West! I’m a Messenger now.”
“You’re sixteen. It doesn’t matter what you’re capable of; they won’t let you stay here alone. You’ll be sent to live in Foster City, even if you do have a job.”
“Why would I have to go to Foster City?”
West opened his mouth to tell her about his application, but the words wouldn’t come out. This was a nightmare.
“I don’t know what the big deal is,” Clover said.
West closed his eyes and forced a slow, deep breath. “You don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t!” He went to the kitchen drawer where he’d stashed his Company folder and pulled it out.
“What is it?”
Christ. This was a flat-out tragedy. “I have an interview with the Company.”
“Since when?”
“Since the day you got your acceptance letter.”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I don’t know. I should have.” Mango hadn’t left Clover’s side. Not to eat or drink. Not to curl up in his favorite chair. He picked up on the tension in the room and stayed on duty. “Are they going to let you keep Mango with you?”
“Yes. The Academy wouldn’t. And they were going to make me room with Heather Sweeney! She’s—”
“I know who she is.” A spoiled officer’s daughter who made a career out of torturing Clover.
“Maybe this is for the best,” Clover said. “I mean, the Mariner track. I never even considered it. And it was so cool, West. I got to ride in the Veronica, and I had to read a fortune cookie, and—”
He held a hand up to stop her. “You’ll end up in Foster City while I’m in training.”
She hadn’t thought about that. It showed on her face. “I can stay home. Bennett said I could.”
“He doesn’t know that I’m headed for training. And you can’t stay here alone, even if you were allowed to. How will you eat? The food is in the Bazaar. Remember the Bazaar? It wouldn’t matter if they gave your ration tickets directly to you; you aren’t old enough to collect on them.”
She couldn’t even if she were old enough. He doubted she’d make it through the door and into the chaos inside. He didn’t say that. Or that there was no way he’d let her go there, even if her sensory issues didn’t stop her.
“Mr. Kingston wouldn’t let me into the Academy. And they didn’t exactly ask me if I wanted to be a Messenger. Drafted, remember?”
A meltdown was imminent. West felt it. Mango felt it, too. The dog pressed his weight against Clover’s legs and the top of his head against her hand, trying to calm her.
“We’ll work this out,” West said.
She shifted her weight from her left foot to her right and did the thing with her hands she did sometimes when she was upset, rubbing her knuckles together like she thought she might light a fire with them. “When do you go to training?”
“September seventh.”
“The day after school starts.” Clover’s face crumbled, and tears fell down her cheeks.
“Oh, hell. Don’t cry, Clover. Come on.”
West came around the table and knelt next to her. He waited until she leaned against him, then wrapped his arms around her. It was rare that Clover allowed herself to be touched, but when she was in this space she needed it. She sobbed against his shoulder. “I really wanted to go to the Academy, you know?”
“We’ll change Kingst
on’s mind. We’ll go to the Academy tomorrow. If the Mariners want you, they’ll still want you in four years. They’d be stupid not to.”
“He won’t change his mind.”
He had to, West thought. The alternatives—Clover in Foster City or him waiting two more years to join the Company—were unthinkable. He still hadn’t wrapped his head around the idea that his little sister had somehow been conscripted into the Company ranks.
“Why don’t you go for a run while I make supper?”
“Okay,” she said. As quickly as her meltdown had come, it was over. “I had a ham sandwich at the Academy before they kicked me out. I wanted to bring you one, but I had to eat it instead.”
“Was it good?”
“Really good. Maybe you can get us a ham next week.”
“I have to ask you to leave,” Kingston said.
West concentrated on not letting his irritation show. He and Clover sat in Kingston’s office in matching reddish leather chairs. Kingston had some kind of little man, big desk complex. He looked absurd sitting behind the outsized oak monstrosity.
“All we want is an explanation,” West said.
“I have told you, and I told Clover when I sent her to the Company, sometimes someone looks like a perfect candidate for the Academy on paper but in reality is not a good fit.”
“She’s smarter than any three students here put together.”
Clover looked tiny in her chair, holding herself stiff and very controlled. She looked at her knees and gripped her hands together in her lap. She didn’t move. Not even when Kingston said, “I’m sure that’s not true. But even if it were, it doesn’t matter. She is not right for the Academy.”
Her attempt to control her behavior only highlighted how different she really was from other girls her age.
“She’s exactly right for the Academy. Or aren’t you in the business of training the best minds in Reno anymore?”
“Please, don’t make me send for the guard.”
Clover stood up. Her green eyes were red-rimmed, but no tears fell. “I want to go home.”
West scrubbed his hand through his hair and finally stood, too. “You’re making a mistake, Mr. Kingston. A huge mistake.”
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