by W. J. May
Things had gotten better still after the battle, when Devon saw the way Fodder had sacrificed along with the rest of them. When he saw the way he was with Molly. The girl was like a daughter to him, and it was hard to disapprove of anyone who treated her so well.
Tempers had cooled. Hatchets had been buried. And a white flag hung tentatively in the air.
But it was never a friendship—always a truce. And it was an uneasy truce at that.
From the way he was looking at the man now, Rae was willing to bet that truce was about to shatter.
“They want me to testify at my dad’s hearing.” She fought back bitter tears as she shot Fodder an accusatory look. “Using Carter’s power to do it.”
The combination of Rae’s tears and Carter’s name did the trick.
A look of cold fury swept over Devon, and he took a threatening step forward. “She’s not going to do it. That’s final. She’s the damn president of the Privy Council. She doesn’t have to do anything. She’s not a child to be played with anymore. She’s no one’s pawn.” A muscle twitched in the back of his jaw, while his fingers twitched at the ready. “I think it’s best you leave.”
Fodder measured his opposition with almost clinical efficiency, weighing each possible outcome if tempers should spill over and they should come to blows.
It would be an interesting fight. Rae could see him considering his options.
There were only two tatùs in the world that were faster than Devon’s, and Fodder’s was one of them. His ink was the same as their friend Riley’s back at school. As fast as a cheetah. But while Fodder might have had years of experience—paired with enough deadly talent to get him elected as Commander of the Xavier Knights—Devon wasn’t the prince of the Council for nothing.
There had never been an agent with as much raw, natural talent. Tales of it had travelled far and wide, landing him on the Knights’ radar in the first place. It was a once-in-a-generation gift. A power so extreme, that if it weren’t for the special circumstances surrounding his beloved fiancée he would most likely have been elected president of the Privy Council himself.
But Fodder obviously didn’t want things to escalate.
The distrust between them had always been on Devon’s side, not his. And as the adult in the situation, he took it upon himself to cool things down.
“I don’t want her to testify,” he said calmly. “Which is why I’m the one who came here to warn her about it. But the others do.” His eyes flickered back to Rae. “It’s going to be an uphill battle to get out of it. And it’s a battle I’m not sure we can win.”
Devon relaxed his posture just a hair as Rae dropped her eyes to the floor, her mind racing with a thousand possibilities, each more dark and terrible than the next.
No matter what she did to distinguish herself, it was never enough. Now, they were going to make her give them the rope to hang him.
“Just keep in mind,” Fodder concluded briskly as he put on his coat, “at this point, we need to be prepared for anything. Give my goodbyes to Luke and Molly.” With that, he pulled open the front door and headed out to the driveway. A gust of crisp air swept inside after him. But he paused on the top of the porch steps. “And thank you for inviting me to Thanksgiving.” His face softened slightly as he glanced back at them, both frozen in the foyer. “I’m sorry it didn’t turn out the way you’d like.”
He was gone the next instant, blurring across the driveway with unfathomable speed.
Devon stared after him for a moment, watching as his car disappeared over the drive, before he turned with concern back to Rae. “What would you like me to do?” he asked softly, ever the soldier. “How can I make this better for you?”
Rae stood there for a moment, lost in thought, before her face grew cold. “Give my apologies to the others.” She marched off to the boathouse, conjuring herself a new set of keys as she went. She pressed her lips tight before saying, and knowing Devon would hear her, “There’s someone I need to see.”
Chapter 7
It took several hours longer to get to the safe house than Rae had planned. Perhaps, if she’d been paying attention the delay could’ve been avoided. But she was lost in her own world, oblivious to every passing dash as she flew down the road.
Part of the problem was that she kept forgetting her destination.
First, she went to Guilder. The campus was graciously deserted for fall break, and she had made it all the way down to the Oratory before she realized her father wasn’t there. She headed to the PC offices and turned around when she realized he wouldn’t be there either. Too obvious, and too close to her own supposed office.
After that, she headed to the Abbey. This time it wasn’t until she’d already parked and swept past the rows of incredulous faces to the war room, that she remembered herself again.
“For the love of Thor,” she muttered to herself, spinning abruptly on her heel back around to the parking lot, “get it together, Kerrigan.”
The fourth time she got into the car, she found her mark.
The safe house was relatively small. Tiny, really. Especially in comparison to the hallowed grounds from where she’d just come.
On the outside, it looked like nothing more than a warehouse. Just one of many on the banks of a wide river in the middle of the fishing district. On either side of it, normal people came and went as they pleased, having no idea that this one building was different from all the rest. That, even with a small army, they couldn’t breach its walls. And it was hiding something—someone—terrible inside.
Rae marched through the double doors without an ounce of hesitation. There were two guards stationed there: one Council, and one Knight. Both looked up in surprise.
“President Kerrigan!” the PC agent exclaimed. “I’m sorry, we weren’t…we weren’t expecting to see you here today.”
The Knight by his side said nothing, merely stared at her with a pair of silent, accusatory eyes. “What can I help you with?”
“I’m here to see the prisoner.”
Both men froze, thrust suddenly onto thin ice. It was a difficult position to find themselves in. And one for which they were fully unprepared.
On the one hand, Rae was the President of the Privy Council. If she wanted to storm the secret tunnels beneath Buckingham Palace, an entire army would be by her side. There was no door left unopened to her. If she wanted to see the prisoner, then that’s exactly what she would do.
On the other hand… the prisoner in question was her own father.
She hadn’t ordered he be placed here; that had been Commander Fodder instead. And while she may have been credited for discovering that Simon Kerrigan was alive, the circumstances around such a discovery were increasingly steeped in controversy. Could Fodder have told them she was forbidden to enter? The thought crossed her mind momentarily and she pushed it away.
How, in good conscience, could they let her just walk through the front door?
And how, in good conscience, could they not?
“Let me save you this agonizing decision,” she said impatiently. “One way or another, I’m getting in.” She let that hang for a moment before placing her hands on her hips. “Now, do you want to assist me with that? Or are you going to stand in my way?”
After a split second, the PC agent lowered his head submissively. Even the brooding Knight stepped back without a word to let her pass.
The door swung firmly shut behind her, and just like that she was in.
It was eerily quiet. At a glance, it looked almost deserted. But by now, Rae knew better. The thick walls of glass at both ends of the building were tatù-resistant, and tinted so that you could only see out—not in. At least thirty more guards were no doubt stationed just on the other side. All of them staring in shock as Rae Kerrigan, the President of the Privy Council, made her way inside.
It wasn’t difficult to find her father. He was the only prisoner in the entire building. The base had originally been designed to hold several groups o
f people at a time: those captured from the fight at the factory, effectively disarming their every set of ink, rendering them safe and helpless.
But the battle had been bloodier than people thought. The casualties more severe. The losses permanent. The only group of Cromfield’s people to have survived had vanished before they could be apprehended, so the warehouse stood as a silent testament. Just waiting for the day until it, too, would be repurchased by the government and put back to use.
Rae walked slowly towards the only light in the building, well aware that countless pairs of eyes were fixed upon her. When she got to the door, she lay her hand upon the keypad and leaned forward for a retinal scan. Some of the Knights’ technological advances had been begrudgingly adopted by the more traditional PC.
“Vocal identification,” a robotic voice demanded.
“Rae Kerrigan.”
There was a pause. Then an angry-sounding beep.
“Access denied.”
Denied? Rae sucked in a quick breath, resisting the urge to look over her shoulder. In what world was her access denied? Had things already deteriorated farther than she thought?
“Rae Kerrigan,” she tried again, speaking as clearly as she could.
Another pause. Another beep.
Okay, not good. Initiating Plan B. Crap! Why didn’t I come up with a Plan B? I had, like, fourteen hours on the supposed one-hour drive over here!
Then an amused voice filtered through the fortified door.
“I think it wants your title, my dear.”
Rae glanced up in surprise, then shook her head in dismay, laying her hand back down on the scanner. She’d made the same mistake the first several times they’d shown her these security measures. No matter how often they reminded her, she somehow always forgot.
“President Rae Kerrigan.”
The door swung open in an instant, leaving her to wonder what would happen if she were ever to get demoted. Was it possible that she could she get stuck inside the Oratory? Trapped underground? Unable to get out?
The thoughts disappeared as her eyes instantly adjusted to the bright light, and she saw her father.
Moderation, anyone?
The measures both organizations had taken to keep him secure were so extreme, they were almost laughable. It was Devon tying the chair to the cars in the boathouse all over again.
Not only was Simon shackled to the wall by both hands and feet, but there was a fifth manacle around his neck. One so heavy, it looked difficult to even stand. The room was buzzing with so many anti-tatù devices that Rae actually felt a sting as they left her body. And she was quick to realize that the lights were not just bright, but intentionally blinding.
She stepped forward with a frown, wincing under the harsh glare.
It was a technique they used on prisoners or hostile agents. Basic sleep deprivation. Intended to keep people awake for such extended periods of time that they lost all grip on reality and became more susceptible to interrogation.
Rae had never had it done herself. By the time she’d risen through the ranks, the Privy Council had stopped forcing new recruits to experience it for themselves. But Devon had. To this day, he couldn’t talk about it without shuddering.
“Why are they doing this?” she asked softly, gesturing up to the lights.
Simon followed her gaze with red-rimmed eyes, forcing a tired smile.
“Your guess is better than mine, Madam President.” The false note of cheer in his voice was almost painful to listen to. “I imagine those in charge here feel as though they’re well within their right to exercise extreme safety precautions. What with my… history.”
Right. Stay on task.
It was that same history that Rae had come to talk about with him today.
She straightened. “That’s actually why I’m here.” She glanced up with another wince before settling herself into the only other chair. Again, what was it doing there? They weren’t supposed to be interrogating him. Not before the trial. Labelled bad man or not, he still had rights.
She took a second to gather her thoughts, wondering where she should begin. But before she could say a single word, Simon leaned forward with concern.
“Your face…” he murmured, examining it as closely as he could. “The last time I saw it, you were bleeding. Shrapnel from the explosion. I was so worried…” He shook his head with a determined expression, forcing himself to move on. “You’ve been healed? Your mother, too?”
Rae caught her breath before nodding quickly.
“Just today. A friend of mine progressed into a healer. Happened just in time.”
“A useful person to keep around,” Simon said sagely. “I knew a healer growing up. He was the doctor stationed at Guilder during my first years. Could fix any hurt simply by touching it.”
“He’s not there anymore.” Rae’s mind raced back as she tried to remember the current Guilder physician. “Did he retire?”
Simon paused.
“Something like that.”
For a moment, the two sat in awkward silence. Neither one knowing what to say. Neither one wanting the other to go. Finally, when it could go on no longer, Simon cleared his throat.
“Rae…it occurs to me that I never said I was sorry.”
I’m sorry? The two words Rae had waited what seemed like her entire life to hear. Driving her from day to day. Pushing her forward as whatever was left of her past crumbled away.
But now that they were upon her, she had no idea what to say.
“This has been my life.” Simon gestured around the cell, rattling the cuffs on his wrist as he did so. “For as long as I can remember, this has been my life. In a way, I actually chose it. Every step I took, every decision I made. It could only ever end here.” The blinding lights burned down into his eyes. “Trapped in a cage. Living only at other people’s mercy. Awaiting a final judgement.”
A cold feeling coursed through Rae’s body, and she stifled a shiver.
“But it occurs to me… that’s been your sentence as well.”
Rae faltered, trying to understand. “My sentence? What do you mean?”
Simon smiled kindly. “I can only imagine what your life has been like. From the day you turned sixteen and discovered your legacy. Discovered the world I’d already tarnished for you.” He shook his head, overwhelmed with remorse. “Trapped in my reputation. Caught in the curse of my name. Living day to day under the weight of other people’s judgment. Yes, it is a sentence I left for you. Not a life. Not a future. A sentence that you were forced to bear alone.” He lifted his eyes to hers. Eyes that looked so familiar, but felt so far away.
Rae watched him with interest… and something else. Was this what Kraigan felt when he thought of their father?
Simon continued. “Only, you’ve done nothing to deserve it. From the day you came into this world, you’ve been innocent. Blameless. Completely pure.” His face lit up with a hollow glow as he remembered times past. “Your mother used to call you her little ray of light. Said that no darkness could ever touch you.” His smile faded to something grim and cold. “But it seemed that my darkness could.”
In that moment, Rae saw a heartbreak no one could ever fake. An aching feeling of remorse that she refused to believe was put on for her benefit. Her father knew his life was over. There was nothing left to gain through lies or manipulative games.
This was coming from his heart. Or at least, whatever was left of it.
“It hasn’t been all bad,” she said suddenly, surprising herself with every word. “I did end up being voted president, after all.”
Simon laughed suddenly, a hoarse bark that was pleasant nonetheless. “That’s true. Although you seem to forget it often.” His eyes glanced toward the door behind her. “Especially with a vocal scan.”
Rae blushed and looked down with the hint of a grin. “Yeah, those things are…those things are new. I haven’t had a lot of time to practice.”
“Saying your name?” he teased.
“Saying the title.”
He nodded graciously and leaned back in his chair, patiently allowing her all the time in the world she wanted to think. It was time she desperately needed, although the longer she sat there the more she found herself unable to talk about what it was she’d come there to say.
“I also didn’t bear it alone,” she stalled. It was getting easier and easier to look at him. She didn’t know how she felt about that—but she was looking nonetheless. “I had a group of friends with me. They never left my side. You met them.”
“Yes.” His eyes twinkled as he remembered. “I surely did. I’ve never met a group of people so prone to either laugh, or pull the trigger. Rather high-strung, aren’t they?”
High-strung? That was one way of putting it. “Yeah, well you’d be high-strung, too, if you’d seen what they’ve seen,” Rae jumped to their defense. “If you’d sacrificed what they’ve been forced to sacrifice.”
Simon looked her steadily in the eyes. “I don’t doubt it.”
I had friends like that once before. Rae didn’t hear her father say it, but it was as if he’d thought it. Strange. Somehow, she didn’t imagine him with friends. She could hardly remember her mother loving him. She had, though, Rae was sure of it. She and Simon fell quiet once more. Trying to keep their heads above water as the room quickly filled with all those things they found themselves unable to say.
When it got to be too much, Simon broke the silence once again. “What is it, child?” he prompted gently. “As much as I truly treasure this time with you, I get the feeling that you didn’t come here to talk to me about your friends.”
Rae bowed her head and steeled herself for whatever was coming next. “They’re going to ask me to testify. Ask me in a way that I can’t refuse.”
Simon stared at her for a minute then nodded slowly, his mind fast at work. “You weren’t old enough to remember anything that happened,” he said quietly, “so I’m assuming they’ll require your deposition in another way.” His eyes flashed up and fastened upon her curiously. “Kraigan said that you showed him the day of my supposed death. Showed him, like he could see it for himself.”
