Chapter Three
Adelaide
I called Nell on the rotary phone in the lobby of my penthouse suite. She answered on the first ring, and I wondered if she had been waiting for my call. She knew what today was, after all.
“Ditch already?” she answered.
“Indeed. I need to get out of here.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“You pick. Somewhere I don’t have to be a Kensington.”
She gave me an address, and I committed it to memory. I hung up the phone. I rolled my shoulders, put on my heiress face, and calmly walked the halls. When I was sure no one was watching, I slipped into a dark, empty servant’s corridor. There was an exit close by, unguarded because it could only be opened from the inside.
I walked a block down the drizzly downtown street and turned a corner before hailing a cab. It was smoky and musty, but to me, it smelled like freedom. My heart was still racing from the torrent of emotions the evening had brought. I spared a second to wish I had changed out of my confining corset before heading out. I couldn’t bear the sight of my cold, empty room, though.
I laid my head back and stared out the window, watching the city I hated pass me by in sectors. At long last, I exited at the given address.
The cabbie looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure you want to get out here, Miss? This is no place for a girl like you.”
“I don’t think you’ve met any girls like me, Sir,” I said as I clambered out of the cab. “Not tonight, anyway.” I paid him handsomely to convey my meaning, and he nodded his understanding before driving off.
Nell had certainly delivered. I had never felt less like myself than I did walking the uneven pavement of the seediest borough in Central, allowing the light drizzle and sweat to soak my gown.
I remembered how many times I had refused to come down here to Fourth District — including the last time when my mother and sister had come here, and I had stayed home, safe. The irony did not escape me. The difference was, back then, I'd actually felt like I had something to lose. Fear didn't come as easily these days.
The pervasive odor of the fishing district mingled with the nearby cluster of factories and sailed into my nostrils on a salty, heavy wind.
I wrinkled my nose. How does anyone live down here?
If the environment itself wasn't bad enough, we were a stone's throw from the explosion site. The reek of desolation was even stronger than the smell of fish and factories.
On the other side of the blast site, the outline of the Dark Woods was sinister and imposing, completing the uninviting picture. No one had ventured there, even before the explosion.
To my left, an unremarkable building had a tiny sign that read Grand Goddess. Just past the edifice of the mysterious building, a rickety sign sticking out from the wall indicated the intersection Nell had given me. Helms. Less of a street and more of an abandoned alley. It seemed to be made of darkness itself, with only a few flickering lamps for spotty illumination. I began walking down the alley toward the only well-lit spot — an unmarked door, complete with a burly bouncer — when a voice sounded behind me.
“What’s a girl like you doing down here?”
I would recognize the deep timbre of my best friend’s voice anywhere. I shook my head. “I was lured here by a questionable source,” I responded without turning around.
She stepped beside me. Nell was a solid head taller than I was, curvy and darker skinned. The silver streak in her sleek midnight hair nearly glowed in the moonlight while she bounced along next to me.
"I know today is a nightmare, love, but wait until you see what I have planned for us."
"An evening in the slums? Oh, Nell, you do spoil me!" I didn’t stop the eye roll this time.
"You wound me with your doubt. It will be brilliant. Why do you think I told you to meet me all the way over here?” She raised her arms, gesturing all around at the questionable alleyway.
"To torture me and amuse yourself?"
"I mean besides that.” She raised her eyebrows and nodded toward the building. “In any event, what I have in store will be better than an evening spent in your future matrimonial home."
"That's not funny." Though, I was starting to wonder at my alternatives. I couldn't live with my father forever. I had a sizable trust fund, but I couldn’t touch it until marriage. No doubt, that was one of my father’s many attempts at forcing my hand.
Her expression turned serious. "I'm not laughing. It's ridiculous the control men have over women here."
"I'm well aware of your thoughts on the matter, and I don't disagree. However, unless you know of somewhere I can go where this is not the case, I'm not ready to give up everything I have and be without means to feed myself just to flout custom." I could be stubborn, but I wasn't exaggerating. My father's reach was everywhere. No one would give me work if Director Kensington made it so, and he would.
"Fair enough. I'm sorry I brought it up, especially today of all days.” She patted my arm. “That's enough of this talk. Come along, love. You said you didn't want to be you tonight, and this is just the place."
Intrigued in spite of myself, I followed her. She led me to the door of The Grand Goddess, and in we slipped. There was booming jazz music playing, and a smoky aroma wafted through the air.
I was grateful for her in that moment. Nell and I weren’t close in the way I had been with Amelie, in the way some friends told each other every thought and concern. We understood each other, though, and sometimes just physically being with someone real was enough.
I gasped when we emerged from the entryway into the main room.
Crystal chandeliers hung from high ceilings over an enormous dance floor, full — but not packed — with couples and groups twirling to the fast-paced tunes. The entire wall adjacent to the band was devoted to a long bar, and the other walls were lined with secluded booths.
People of different stations mingled without a second thought, everyone from dock workers to royalty. The former I assumed from their dress, mostly cotton pants with button down shirts and suspenders. The latter I vaguely recognized. I turned away before the prince's distant cousin could identify me in return.
I spotted a few well-dressed gentlemen making a beeline for a door somewhat hidden in a corner and wondered if there were shadier dealings going on that necessitated the secrecy surrounding the club. Though, honestly, I didn't care. This was just what I needed. Standing in that noisy, warm, smoky room full of inebriated dancers who hadn't the faintest clue who I was made me feel as though I could breathe for the first time all night.
I was surprised to feel my lips curve up as Nell took me by the hand and led me to a couple of barstools. She looked amazing, as always. Her light brown skin was absent of make-up. Like my sister, she had never needed the help of cosmetics.
That makes one of us, I thought.
Nell’s brown zippered corset was similar to mine, but the assets it was supporting were substantially larger. She had paired it with a skirt that was longer in the back than the front and strappy brown boots. Her bracelet was the only part of her outfit not perfectly coordinated, but I had never seen her without the ornate golden cuff.
The bartender came directly to us, and Nell ordered two sidecars. It had been long enough since the whiskey that I wasn’t worried about adding gin to the mix at this point. I downed my drink when it arrived, and Nell followed suit. We placed the empty glasses on the bar and she dragged me off my stool toward the dance floor.
I had never been much of a dancer, despite my best attempts to emulate the simultaneously graceful and jerky movements of those around me. Alcohol buzzed through my veins and told me not to care, though, so I followed Nell and allowed myself to be lost in the music.
Here in this space, there was no explosion, no sadness, nothing but encompassing beats and my best friend’s laughter. Nell sauntered away once or twice to reappear with another couple of drinks in her hand, but I never left the floor.
; Minutes or hours passed — I couldn’t tell — before two men interrupted our reverie.
“Care to dance?” the one closest to me mouthed. He was tall and blonde, dressed in nondescript, middle class clothing. Suspenders held up his pressed pants, and he turned the full force of a charming grin on me.
I glanced at Nell, seeing she was being similarly propositioned. She shrugged, so I mimicked the gesture and opened my stance to allow for a partner.
His breath smelled of strong spirits, but his step was steady when he moved closer and wrapped one arm around my waist, taking my hand in his. It was too familiar for strangers, but I figured I could endure one dance to avoid drawing attention to myself by pushing him away.
To his credit, the man waited a whole minute into our dance before sliding his hand ever so slightly toward my backside. My eyebrows shot up, and I forcibly wrenched the offending appendage upward. I wasn’t ready to make a scene yet and, sadly, was well-accustomed with intoxicated men and their propensity to push their luck.
He grinned like my response was adorable. I wondered how cute he would think it was if I punched him in his smug face. I might have been enjoying the effects of a few cocktails, but if he thought that made me an easy target, he could think again. After only a moment, he moved his hand more deliberately downward, smirking all the while.
To hell with not making a scene.
I curled my hand into a fist and stomped on his foot at the same time. The bastard didn’t seem to notice through his inebriated haze. I pulled my fist back. I had ShutEye, a nerve agent, in my handbag. From what I had been told, it was a relatively painless way to neutralize an enemy. This guy didn’t need a painless knockout, though. He needed a black eye.
I had never punched anyone before, but how hard could it be?
A gauntleted hand quite literally beat me to the punch. I stopped my arm mid-swing, watching the heavy fist connect with my dance partner’s face. I turned with wide eyes to look at the crimson helmet of my stalwart protector.
Locke towered over the cowering man, his stance indicating he might punch him again. My initial impressions about the club must have been correct, because, though no one could have failed to notice the downed man, the room was full of averted eyes. That could have been attributed to my bodyguard’s fearsome reputation, though.
“Ms. Kensington, it’s time to go,” Locke’s voice intoned through his helmet.
I bristled at his commanding tone, but the shine of the evening was gone now. Truthfully, my bed and the fat cat in it sounded far more appealing than staying here. So I nodded.
Nell was standing just to the side of Locke, her date forgotten, while she openly laughed at the man sprawled out before her. He had at least been too smart to get up with Locke still standing there.
Nell turned to me. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“I appreciate it, but I’m ready to be alone,” I told her honestly.
She examined my face for a moment, then nodded.
“Do you want a ride back?” I offered.
“No, I’ll stay.” Nell glanced back at her companion who was standing awkwardly behind her. I had my vices, and Nell had hers. I smirked in understanding and moved toward the exit.
"Ms. Silbeque." Locke nodded politely to Nell before he followed. My former dance partner yelped as Locke not-so-subtly stomped on his hand on the way out.
"How did you find me?"
"I never lost you."
I attempted to brush off that blow to my ego and moved along. "Then why intercede now? I could have handled him." That was debatable, but Locke let it slide.
"The Director wants to see you."
Double merde. Well, I had wanted to go home anyway. With a resigned sigh, I left the bar. The driver was the same one who had driven me home from the Palace. I had been less than truthful about my permission to leave and my plans for the evening. I gave him a guilty wave and got a grimace in return. I really had mastered the art of alienating people.
I lowered myself into the back seat of the bulbous gray automobile and proceeded to stare out the window, watching the endless array of rundown motels and gentlemen's clubs go by. I set aside my pride long enough to mutter a thank you, which Locke only nodded at. Whether my father wanted to see me or not, I know Locke would have intervened. He would never let anyone manhandle me.
He had been the Commander of the Red Sons before becoming my bodyguard. My father must have offered him the moon to leave his prestigious post to babysit a grieving teenage girl, but he took his job seriously. I stuffed down my guilt at trying to evade the only man in my life who had bothered to act like a father.
Instead, I cranked the window down and let the muggy air blow through my hair. The white noise almost blocked out all the thoughts of my sister, my mother, and this horrendous, cursed day.
The Renegade
Eighteen months of hiding out in various safe houses, scrounging for information, had all come to a head when I nearly lost mine. Xavier had gone ballistic. After he and Gunther nursed me back to health, he announced he was aligning us with an organization "for the improvement of society."
A terrorist group. At least, that’s how Redshaw Corporation saw The Men of High Purpose. Xavier called them activists, men fighting for a better world. Some might call them vigilantes.
I felt so guilty about the position I had put our lives in that I didn't argue. Much. I knew Xav only wanted to protect us, and extra resources couldn't be a bad thing. And both my brothers were intent on joining. There was no way I was going to let them do it alone. I may have lost this battle, but I was a long way from giving up on clearing our father's name.
Xavier preempted me, though. As an exchange for our skills, he asked that we spend the first few years of our post on the outlying islands "for personal reasons." The Men of High Purpose had need everywhere, so they agreed, albeit reluctantly, to place us in the quieter outposts. I was stuck having signed several years of my life away to a cause I didn't believe in, with absolutely nothing to show for it. Except my life, as Xav and even the more docile Gunther frequently reminded me.
When we got the call to come back to Central, Xavier was furious, but I was ready. I would find the answers or die trying.
Chapter Four
Clark
I had been trained to endure multiple forms of torture, but none rivaled being subject to my older brother's endless self-righteous tirades.
“What took you so long? And you’re welcome for the zeppelin,” Xavier said the moment I sank into the passenger seat of the long-hooded chrome automobile he was driving. His dark skin gleamed against the tan leather.
He had been waiting at our meeting spot in the alley for at least an hour now. What had taken me so long was that I had been reeling from the news of our father being alive. I had stared blankly at the walls of the empty elevator until the doors opened and a servant interrupted my thoughts.
Of course the zeppelin had been him, and he had no qualms about rubbing it in my face. Normally, we would be in full banter right now. I was pretty good at following up his lectures with snarky commentary. But I was drowning under the weight of my newfound knowledge. I shoved the closed book at him without a word. I didn’t have enough information to risk getting my brothers’ hopes up, so I said nothing as he picked it up. Xavier wouldn’t look through the book as I had. He’d give it straight to Command, following protocol like a good soldier.
“Better fix that up.” He pointed to my shoulder.
I gave him a resigned nod.
He narrowed his eyes at me, and I tried to clear my expression.
I changed the subject. “How could you possibly have known I would need a zeppelin?”
“Because you never think ahead. That’s why I should have gone on this mission. You could’ve gotten yourself killed.”
“You should have picked tails,” I responded. Xavier had also volunteered for the mission, so Aegis had insisted we flip for it.
After jerking my shoulde
r back in place with more force than was strictly necessary, Xav treated me to one of his famous "I told you so" lectures. The agonizing moment my shoulder popped back into place nearly made me pass out. It was still preferable to Xavier’s speech, which lasted from the moment we left the alleyway through the entire thirty-minute drive back to base.
I tuned him out after about the third time I heard the phrase, "If you would just stick with the plan, just once…" The truth was, if Xavier had been in charge of this mission, he probably wouldn't have gotten the book. He played it safer than I did. He didn’t know how to take real risks, how to improvise.
But I kept that to myself.
When we finally arrived at our destination, I was, as usual, unimpressed with the Bird's Nest. A dilapidated hotel that stood wedged between two bakeries at the end of Crinton Street, it was an eyesore in a district that was already worse for the wear. The bedbug-ridden hotel housed everything from prostitutes to vagrants to the lowest of criminals.
We entered through the dusty doors to find ourselves in a small, hazy lobby. An old man sat behind a counter reading his paper while a cigar burned away between his fingers. The cloying scent reached my nostrils and I gagged. He lowered his paper and examined Xavier and me wordlessly before nodding us through.
Halfway to the elevator, the man called out us in his hacking voice. "Oh, yeah. I almost forgot. Aegis wants to see you — the darker one — right away."
I glanced at my brother as we stepped into the elevator. His face remained stoic under his black fedora. I closed the elevator's gate while Xav rotated the lever to its lowest position, causing the lift to descend. The Bird's Nest was comprised of thirteen floors, at least, thirteen that were public knowledge. Hidden beneath the building was a large underground facility which served as the headquarters for The Men of High Purpose.
Their mission was to rid the world of corruption in whatever form. Greedy politicians, human traffickers, and corporations with far too much power all made the list of things the MOHP would like to see eliminated.
The Fractured Empire (The World Apart Series Book 1) Page 3
