Kingdom Come

by Devi Mara

  He gave her a small smile, but his eyes were warm. “I enjoyed meeting you, also.”

  She bobbed her head in a quick nod and limped away with as much dignity as possible. Agent Jackson’s office was empty when she reached it, the other agents having vacated the premises. She collapsed into one of the chairs facing his desk and settled in to wait.

  Her feet and hip throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She could almost feel the bruise forming on her pale skin. She shifted uncomfortably. The hard, wooden chair was obviously meant as a torture device. Or the first discomfort in an interrogation. She tried to shove the thought away before it could take root.

  She had not actually done anything wrong. At least, she did not think so. She rubbed at the back of her neck and allowed her eyes to wander around the office. The white walls were hung with generic landscape artwork and framed certificates of achievement. Her eyes slid over a few medals and she tried not to think about how outranked she was in the situation.

  She jumped when the door swung open behind her, her eyes fastening on her stone-faced supervisor. Agent Jackson crossed the room to stand behind his desk, never giving her even a cursory glance. Definitely in trouble, she mused. She sat up straighter in the chair, carefully crossing her ankles and laying her hands in her lap.

  “Sir?” she asked in a neutral tone.

  His eyes snapped up from his desktop to glare at her. “Do you know your title here?”

  “I’m a temp, right? Stepping in for the president’s usual assistant while she’s on leave?” Her voice grew quieter as she spoke and his expression did not soften. She sighed. “Am I fired?”

  He held his glare a moment longer, before he slowly shook his head. “No.” He pulled open one of his desk drawers and set a single sheet of paper on the desktop in front of her. “Sign that.”

  She internally bristled at the order, but leaned forward to look over the full page of writing. “What is it?”

  His lips pressed into a flat line and his eyes narrowed. “A housing contract.”

  “I have an apartment.” She looked up at him. “Why do I have to move?”

  “You have moved,” he told her blandly. “A team moved all of your things this morning. You are now staying in a triplex a few blocks from here.”

  She fought the urge to frown. “Why?”

  “Do you have another job lined up, Miss Ashley?” he asked her pointblank.

  Her eyes dropped to the contract and she shook her head. “I need a pen.” The smug satisfaction rolling off him made her want to grind her teeth. She snatched the pen he handed her and signed her name in an irritated flourish.

  “Thank you, Miss Ashley. Now, if you would wait outside, I will have someone escort you to your new living accommodations.”

  She knew a dismissal when she heard one. She forced a smile. “Have a nice day, sir.”

  He waved her off. “You, as well.”

  She managed to close the door gently when she left. The woman sitting at the desk to her right shot her a cool look, as if she were disturbing her work on purpose. Abby tried to ignore her irritated sniff.

  “Are you Abigail?” a voice asked from behind her.

  She turned to see a pretty, dark-skinned woman giving her a once over. The woman raised an eyebrow when she did not immediately answer.

  “Abby, please.”

  “Candace,” the other woman quickly answered, thrusting out a hand to shake. As they shook, she leaned to the right to peer at the woman sitting at the desk.

  “Do you have a problem, Gretchen?”

  Abby glanced over her shoulder to see Agent Jackson’s assistant shaking her head. “I’m fine.”

  “That’s what I thought.” Candace rolled her eyes and sent Abby a pointed look. “Let’s go. Your things?”

  Abby shook her head. “I’m good.”

  “Let’s go, then.” Candace turned and walked away without waiting to see if she was following.

  Abby blinked at the abrupt meeting and exit. She quickly followed the shorter woman down the hall, finally catching up when they reached the elevator.

  “So…”

  Candace glanced at her. “So?”

  Abby’s lips twitched up into a smile. She already liked the other woman. “How long have you worked here?”

  Candace snorted. “Too long?”

  The elevator slid open and they stepped into the small space.

  “What do you do here?” Abby asked, trying to start a conversation with the other woman.

  Candace gave her a bland look. “Are we going to be girlfriends, now?”

  Abby turned her head to hide her smile. She cleared her throat. “No, sorry. I don’t mean to be nosy.”

  Candace stepped off the elevator and took off down a brightly lit hallway.

  “Are we underground?” Abby struggled to keep up with the other woman, snatching looks at doors as they hurried past.

  “There’s a car waiting,” she said by way of an answer.

  Abby sighed, wondering at the secrecy. After several minutes of walking in silence, they approached a concrete staircase and took two flights of stairs up to ground level. A pair of guards waited outside the door, both heavily armed.

  “Candace Johnson and Abigail Ashley,” Candace quickly told them, holding out her ID card and gesturing for Abby to do the same.

  The closest guard spent several seconds examining the IDs, before he nodded silently and waved them on. Abby followed Candace across a hallway and through a door to what looked like a side driveway. Candace nudged her into the back of a black car before she could ask any questions.

  The car began moving the second the door closed behind the other woman. Candace reached past her to push the button to raise the screen between the front and back seat. It slid closed with a soft sigh and Candace echoed the sound.

  “Where are you from, anyway?”

  Abby looked at the divider and then smiled. “Missouri. You?”

  “Virginia.” Candace turned in the seat to face her. “First thing. You can’t just say what you want when you want. People are listening. Back there, for sure.” She thumbed over her shoulder toward the White House.

  “Okay…”

  Candace visibly relaxed.

  “Where are we going, anyway?”

  “You’re staying next to my place. It’s a triplex. You’re in the middle and Jenny King is on the end.”

  “Who?” Abby asked, watching Candace dig in her purse.

  “Spencer Harrington’s secretary.” She fished out a key ring with two keys on it. “It’s not important. Here’s your keys. That’s the front door and a spare.”

  “Thanks.” Abby started to put the keys in her pocket and paused when she realized her pants did not have one. She sighed. “Is this the usual dress code?”

  Candace looked up from her purse. “You better get used to it if you’re going to be working at the White House.”

  Abby wrinkled her nose, but nodded. “Right.”

  At her flat tone, the other woman set aside her purse and gave her a bland look. “What?”

  “Nothing. So, what do you do?”

  Candace raised an eyebrow at her blatant change of topic, but answered the question. “HR.” She paused for a moment, before she said, “How did you get here?”

  “Long story,” Abby hedged.

  “You followed a man.”

  The comment surprised a laugh from her. She shook her head. “Yes, but not the way you think.”

  “Mmhmm.”

  Abby grinned. “No really. A friend of mine moved to New York to pursue his photography. I had just graduated from college and wasn’t really doing anything, so I agreed to share rent with him.”

  “And?” Candace urged.

  She shrugged. “We lived together for about ten months. I worked at a deli in Queens and did some part-time modeling while he tried to get a job. He did.”

  “And?”

  “And I couldn’t afford rent after he moved out.” Abby smiled w
ryly. “I eventually got a job working at a bakery and living in the apartment upstairs. Then, two days ago Agent Jackson showed up. End of story.”

  Candace nodded with a slight frown. “He just showed up?”

  “Yep.”

  “That’s…”

  The car turned into the parking lot before she could finished her thought. Abby leaned forward to peer out Candace’s window at the two story triplex. Cookie-cutter, white with grey shutters, it looked identical to the other three along the sidewalk.

  “Here we are,” Candace said, as she opened the door.

  Abby followed her out of the backseat and stood on the sidewalk while the other woman spoke to the driver. Her gaze wandered over the identical buildings and crowded parking lot. It was a far cry from Queens and an even further cry from small town Missouri. She rolled her shoulders and raised her head.

  “Come on,” Candace tossed over her shoulder, as she strode past her toward the closest building.

  She stopped at her apartment to drop her purse just inside the front door and gestured for Abby to proceed her to the center unit. The keys jingled on the nearly empty keychain, when she slid the key into the lock. Braced for the worst, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  The entryway was a pleasant surprise. A breakfast nook sat to her right, with a padded bench tucked under the oak table. Two matching chairs sat on the side closest to the door. She stepped into the nook to look around the kitchen. It was far larger than she expected.

  A peninsula separated the kitchen from the dining room and living room. A small table with four chairs sat just outside the kitchen and a couch sat further to the left, marking the separation between the dining and living space. The wall on the far left held a large TV. She did not recognize any of the furnishings.

  “Where’s all my stuff?” She looked over her shoulder to see Candace shrug. Frowning, she peeked in the door under the stairs to see a two-piece powder room.

  She climbed the stairs quickly and found a large master bedroom with an attached bathroom and a full closet. None of the clothes looked familiar.

  “These aren’t my clothes,” she tossed over her shoulder as she looked over the suits and dresses.

  Several of the dresses looked like something she would wear to a dinner party or black tie affair. The fabrics were lustrous and obviously expensive, but the clothes were not hers. They were the opposite of what she would wear. She found herself scowling, as she left the bedroom and crossed the hallway to find a smaller bedroom.

  Four boxes sat in the center of the room. A fraction of the amount she had packed, all of them were labeled bathroom or personal effects. She wondered what the agents would consider personal effects. She considered all of her possessions to be personal. She put her hands on her hips and glared at the boxes.

  “Is this how they usually help someone move?” she muttered.

  “I don’t know. I moved my own stuff.” Candace stopped next to her. “How much is missing?”

  Abby sighed heavily. “Like, all of it.”

  She whirled around and stalked out of the room. She stomped down the stairs and collapsed on the couch, refusing to acknowledge it was actually comfortable. They had gotten rid of all of her things. Even as she thought it, she looked up and saw one of her photographs on the wall beside the TV.

  Kicking off her heels, she walked over to look at the framed picture. She had not looked at it since it was displayed at her old roommate’s art show. Candace reached the bottom of the stairs and headed toward her. She started to sit on the couch, before she moved to stand beside her instead.

  “Is that you?”

  Abby nodded. “My roommate took it two years ago.”

  She could still remember the exact moment he snapped the picture. Their old apartment was a loft in a partially remodeled warehouse. It was all old brick and glass. They were on the third floor and the front wall of the apartment was full of large windows.

  She had just taken a shower and was sitting on the edge of the kitchen table to look out the window as she dried her hair with a towel. The thin, white button-down shirt she wore had been her mother’s, one of her favorites. She felt a twinge of pain when she realized it was probably gone with the rest of her clothes.

  Leo, her roommate, had walked out of his room with the camera as the clouds parted to splash sunshine through the windows. The sun had been so warm on her face, she closed her eyes to enjoy it. The sound of the camera brought her out of her enjoyment, just before the clouds hid the sun again.

  Looking at the picture, it was difficult to believe the woman was her. The sunlight brought out strands of gold and red in her dark hair. The way she was partially turned toward the window cast half her body in shadow, the bare skin on the other half nearly glowed by comparison.

  The shirt stopped at mid-thigh and was only partially buttoned, falling open to reveal one shoulder. The towel lay forgotten on the table beside her. It was a brief moment of beauty. The picture looked staged. Only the two of them knew it was not. She sighed and turned away.

  “One of the modeling pictures?” Candace asked, as she studied the photo.

  “An accidental one. My friend, Leo, hung it in the gallery for his first show in New York.” She walked past the shorter woman and dropped down on the couch. “I forgot I had it.”

  …

  He felt her approach and his words tapered off mid-sentence. He ignored the knowing look his second gave him.

  “Your Majesty, you have someone seeking an audience,” Konani called, the humor obvious in her voice.

  He met her gaze through the small crowd and her eyes sparkled with amusement. He gave her a bland look.

  “Sir?” Abigail’s voice flowed over him like a wave of heat.

  He gestured for his guards to move out of her way.

  “Miss Ashley.”

  His eyes roamed over her, hungry to take her in even after such a short time apart. He forced himself not to meet her bright gaze. She may not know the significance of such familiarity, but he did.

  She frowned for a moment, before giving him a carefully neutral expression.

  “The president would like to meet with you next week.”

  His guards shifted at the mention of the human leader, their dislike obvious in the air. Abigail turned her attention to his guards. He watched her notice the female guards among the males. She seemed surprised. He frowned. Perhaps, humans did not allow females to serve as guards.

  Nitya sent him a quick look, clearly thinking something along the same lines. She shook her bright, golden hair back over her shoulders and raised her chin proudly. His eyes wandered over the rest of his guards, wondering what Abigail saw when she looked at them.

  Roshan and Desta exchanged a glance, Desta clearly pleased with the situation. Her lips curled up into a smile, sharp, white teeth flashing against her dark skin. Roshan returned the look with a sedate curve of his lips, giving her a curt nod.

  “I have no interest in meeting with him,” Edric answered, drawing Abigail’s gaze away from his guards and back to him.

  His eyes met hers for a fraction of a second, and the same jolt of pleasure shot down his spine. The edge of pain was absent, unlike the first time. The dazed look on her face, gave him hope that she felt a fraction of the draw he felt toward her. She nodded.

  “Right. I noticed you don’t get on too well.”

  A gross understatement. He loathed the man, but he would not tell her that.

  “What gave you that impression, Miss Ashley?”

  She cleared her throat. “The barely concealed hostility mostly.”

  His eyebrows shot up at her bluntness and he bit back a surprised laugh. Her behavior in the meeting had concerned him greatly, as she was not quiet or subservient by nature. It was a relief to see she felt comfortable enough to show her true personality.

  “You have a very disarming way of speaking your mind, Miss Ashley.”

  “Yeah, it gets me in trouble.”

&nbs
p; He frowned when she glanced over her shoulder to check that the hallway was still empty behind her. As if anyone in the building had the right to chastise her.

  “So, how about that meeting, Your Majesty?”

  Another meeting with the pompous, megalomaniacal leader. He growled quietly.

  “I could take your party on a tour of the grounds, afterwards? Or the city. Whichever one.”

  Time spent with her would be worth the time wasted in the meeting, but he doubted the humans would allow her to travel far from them. Not when she was so valuable. He did not realize he was staring at her, until she spoke again.

  “Lunch?”

  He could not stay away now that he had found her. He nodded. “Agreed.”

  Her lush lips curved up into a pleased smile. He sensed the agent’s presence, before she heard him. The smile immediately fell from her face, a nervous grimace taking its place. He wanted to break the man. He mentally sighed and turned his gaze to the irritating man walking down the hallway toward them.

  The agent’s face was arranged in a mask of neutral politeness, but his eyes were cold when they landed on Abigail. Edric reconsidered his vow not to commit violence toward a human in front of Abigail. The man had the gall to glare at her. He bared his teeth.

  The agent gave him a tight smile, but he saw a flash of fear in his gaze before it was hidden.

  “Your Majesty.” He ducked his head in a quick bow.

  The man stood far too close to Abigail. Edric was sure his face spoke of violence.

  “You have work to finish,” the agent told Abigail, dismissing her.

  He could barely contain his fury. He kept his face carefully neutral when Abigail looked at him. She gave him a weak smile.

  “It was nice to meet you, sir. I look forward to seeing you next week.” The sincerity took the edge off his anger.

  The agent cleared his throat, interrupting their conversation, “I’ll meet you in my office.”

  He would kill him, he decided as he stared at the man. His rudeness toward Abigail was unacceptable. He would have to make sure she did not find out, as she may frown upon violence toward her species. He was still pondering the man’s demise, when Abigail looked at him. He did not look at her, afraid she would see the darkness in his eyes.