A young, rail-thin brunette dressed in a revealing white blouse and short skirt hurries to greet us even before we’ve all climbed out of the car.
“Hello!” Her voice is as perky as the body that her clothes barely conceal. “My name is Katy, Mr. Mayer’s personal assistant!” All of her words are punctuated with cheerfulness. She seems higher than we are, which would be some trick.
“Hi Katy! My name’s Lirium. I’m your debt collector for today.”
Her grin falters. Ophelia coughs into her hand.
Valac throws me a frown and steps in front of me. “Are you ready for us?” he says to Katy. He puts a hand on her shoulder and guides her toward the door. “I hope we’re not too late. The traffic was terrible out of the city…” He keeps speaking as they reach the door, but I’m busy wondering what kind of personal assistance Katy and her short skirt give Mr. Mayer.
Ophelia grabs my attention with her mile-wide grin.
“What?” I say.
“She’s… cute,” she says quietly. We follow after Valac, slow enough to not be overheard.
“She’s inhumanly perky,” I say. “And high on something better than life hits.”
“You were totally checking her out.”
“I was not,” I protest. “But if she’s going to wear a skirt like that… you can’t blame me for looking.” I’m arguing mostly for Nico’s and two-pints’ benefit. They shuffle along behind us, and I’m sure they’re just waiting for an excuse to beat the crap out of me. Or simply shoot me. I don’t want them to get any ideas about repeat performances on either of our parts.
Ophelia shakes her head then teeters in her stilettos across the threshold. “You were checking her out,” she whispers. I scowl as she saunters inside.
The house has some kind of magic trick where it appears larger on the inside than the outside. Or perhaps the extent of it was buried in the tropical plants. But the narrow entranceway quickly opens into a large circular room with a sweep of windows. It feels like we’re inside an aquarium. Past the giant, curved piece of glass, the waves break soundlessly against the shore, an untouched stretch of yellow-white sand almost as blinding as the sunlight sprinkled waves. I shade my eyes. All I can think is, how do people live in such brightness all the time?
Valac reappears and sweeps us out of the light and into a darker room, where the slatted shades are drawn. The sun beats against them, breaking through in occasional electric white lines that slice the room to pieces. But they don’t reach the large white bed in the center, or the tall, regal-looking man standing near it, conferring with Katy the Perky Assistant.
Valac leads us to him. “Congressman Mayer,” he says, “these are the collectors I mentioned, Lirium and Ophelia.”
Congressman? He does look vaguely familiar, but it’s not like I follow politics. Valac could have said he was a movie star, and I would have thought the same thing. He seems like a long-term recipient of life hits, though. His hair’s slightly gray at the temples, but his dye job looks fake up close. Like he’s trying to cover up the fact that he’s younger than he should be.
The law forbids transfers to politicians and other people who are in charge of writing the regulations that cover life energy dispositions. Even if the congressman was making grand contributions to world peace and dying of a heart attack, he wouldn’t be eligible for a life hit. Not a legal one, anyway. My stomach turns, knowing the life energy I collected from the involuntary donors today is going into someone who set up all this in the first place. The donor’s bad luck put them under my hand, but there’s no luck—or merit—involved in Mayer getting the payout.
No wonder the congressman wants to keep it discreet.
“A pleasure to meet you, Lirium.” Mayer nods to me, then smiles at Ophelia in a way that makes my stomach curl. “Ophelia.” There’s way too much craving behind that smile. His gaze travels over the sheer netting part of her outfit. Why did Valac dress her this way, knowing we were coming here? I want even more to pay out personally to the congressman.
“As I mentioned,” Valac says, “Lirium is a new addition to our team. This is his first time transferring to such an esteemed client, so we’ll have Ophelia supervising at first. Then she’ll handle the rest of the transfer by herself.”
I force a smile onto my face. I don’t like this at all.
“Congressman Mayer,” Ophelia says. “Would you like to have a seat?”
She’s all smiles, which I like even less. The oversized bed is the only place to sit. Mayer grins and perches on the edge. Ophelia’s stiletto heels click as she follows him. He watches every step.
I’m wondering if I can transfer to him at all without punching him.
Ophelia hooks a finger, beckoning me. Valac takes that as his cue and guides Katy from the room. She seems reluctant to leave. I’m not the only one who’s worried about Mayer’s intentions.
“We’ll do it just like before, Lirium,” Ophelia says, taking my hand and placing it on Mayer’s forehead. It doesn’t have a wrinkle on it, and it’s cool under my buzz-heated hand.
Ophelia lays her hand on the back of mine. I slip my free hand around her waist and pull her closer. Just because I don’t want Mayer to do it. She gives me a quizzical look, probably wondering why I’m being such a Neanderthal. I’m not quite sure myself. There’s not much danger of her getting hurt by Mayer—she could easily kill us both in the position we are right now, all skin-to-skin and vulnerable. And it’s not like I have any claim on Ophelia: she’s made it pretty clear she’s not looking for more than the occasional make-out from me, and I’m an idiot for wanting even that. She betrayed me. Trapped me in the mob with her. But I can’t help thinking that if I could just drag her away from Kolek, all that would change.
As if I could force Ophelia to do anything.
“Start the transfer slow,” she says quietly, her face turned so her words are a whisper of breath on my face. “I’ll show you how to open it wider.”
I know she means the transfer spigot, but for some reason my mind gropes at innuendos. Probably the sexy way she says it, all simmering heat in her words. She’s playing it up for Mayer, all part of the payout he’s paying for.
I grit my teeth, but nod and start the transfer.
I’ve never paid much attention to my payout rate before, but after two hours of carefully controlled collecting, I can feel it now: the portal can be controlled both ways, collecting and paying out. Ophelia nudges it a little wider and I follow her lead.
Shadows crowd the edge of my vision. The knot in my stomach ties so tight it’s difficult to breathe. My hand curls under Ophelia’s, clawing at Mayer’s youthful shock of brown hair. The payout is faster than I’ve done before, with the exception of Dr. Brodsky and that was uncontrolled. And a mercy hit, so it felt good, not this taste of death that’s heaving my stomach.
The buzz shows up in Mayer’s face. His lips part, a small smile creeping on them, and his breath is hot on my arm. His gaze is making a meal out of Ophelia’s body, sandwiched between us. My hand at her waist has reflexively cramped tighter, which is a good thing, or I might be punching the congressman after all.
“Relax, baby.” She pries off my grip with her free hand. “Your body reacts to the payout, just like a collection in reverse. You have to relax into it. Don’t fight the payout, and your body won’t respond to it quite so much.”
I try to do what she says. Usually I push the life energy into a payout; now I focus on keeping the spigot small and letting the life energy flow rather than be forced.
It works.
The darkness crowding my mind eases a little. I’m still paying out at the same rate, but my hand on Mayer’s head uncramps. I move my free hand back to Ophelia’s waist, gentle this time.
She allows it, saying, “You always were a fast learner, baby.”
Mayer’s gaze travels up her body and caresses her face. He’s fully feeling the buzz now, and it’s obvious he wants her alone. I can too easily imagine why. Ophelia gently
pulls my hand from Mayer’s head. The transfer cuts off as soon as we lose contact, but I’m not ready to leave her alone with him.
“Lesson’s over,” she says. “I’ll come find you when we’re done.”
I really don’t like the sound of that. “I can stay. In case you need me.”
She twists and puts her hands on my shoulders. I think she’s going to kiss me, but she sweeps past my lips to plant a chaste peck on my cheek. “I’ll be fine, baby,” she says softly. “Tell Valac I won’t be long.”
She’s reminding me that Valac doesn’t want me to stay. She’s also toying with me the same way she’s playing Mayer, which reminds me that I’m actually still not happy with her. But she’s right. Valac’s planned this out a certain way, and I better not screw it up.
“Fine,” I say. “Call if you need me.”
I step back, but Mayer’s already forgotten I was there. I turn away, but not before he puts both hands on her hips and pulls her into his lap.
I wish I had left sooner.
My fists clench and unclench as I stalk from the congressman’s bedroom. I’m not sure if I’m more bothered by his hands on Ophelia’s hips or the way she seems to think she can play me with an almost kiss. I’m most bothered by the fact that it bothers me.
The light of the living room blinds me, and I stumble over something on the floor. I catch myself before I fall.
“Everything all right?” Valac asks from somewhere ahead of me. I shield my eyes and see him at the edge of a darkened hallway near the entrance. Katy hovers next to him, on high alert for my answer.
“Ophelia says she won’t be long.” I seriously consider waiting two minutes then going in to check on them. Then again, I’m not sure I want to see what’s happening. “Can I have a word with you?” I ask Valac.
He frowns but tilts his head back, then disappears into the dark. I follow after him, brushing past Katy’s wide-eyed look. She seems lost as to whether she should let us drift off into the dark corners of the house by ourselves, but elects to stay by Nico and two-pints in the living room. At the end of the hall is a small bedroom with the drapes drawn. From the fluffy white comforter, pink surfboard in the corner, and the heart-shaped picture screens, I’m guessing the room belongs to Katy.
I close the door behind us. “You should send me back in there,” I say to Valac. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at Ophelia, and I can do the payout. She can supervise, if you’re worried.” What I really need to do is get Ophelia out of the mob altogether. No matter what sexy kitten moves she has, surviving this way isn’t any good for her. Or me.
“Don’t worry about Ophelia,” Valac says, but he looks more tense than I would like to hear with those words. “She’s not doing anything she doesn’t want to.”
Which is of course a complete lie. “Oh, c’mon! You know she doesn’t enjoy curling up to that asshole.” Ophelia’s doing what she has to. Kolek won’t tolerate her shirking her duties. I cringe inside as I realize she’s been pulling extra collections—and payouts—while I’ve been recovering in my room. How many more death make-out sessions has she already done? Or will she have to do in the future? I can’t believe Kolek would let that asset go to waste.
“She was your mentor,” I say. “You can’t tell me you don’t care.”
“I don’t care.”
I can’t tell if he’s lying or not. Agitation makes me curl up a fist and press it against the wall by the door. I want to put my fist through it, but that won’t help anything.
“Let’s give them five minutes,” I say, “then send me in there. I can handle it.”
“I told you before. You’ll get your chance to prove yourself to Kolek. Later. And when the time comes, whatever happens, just make sure you don’t hesitate.”
That stops me. My hand drops from the wall. “What do you mean, don’t hesitate?”
Valac runs a hand through the waves of his blond hair. “When Kolek asks you to collect, don’t take your time figuring out whether or not you want to. Just do it. Later, you can agonize about it all you want.”
“He’s going to test me.” A sick dread pumps into my stomach.
Valac drops his hand and looks me in the eyes. “Yes. And I’d really prefer it if you passed the test, little bird.”
“Because if I don’t…?”
“He’ll tell me to kill you.”
Valac sounds like killing me would actually not be on his top ten for the afternoon. “You care,” I say sarcastically. “I’m touched.”
Valac glares at me. “I’ll be happy relieve you of your life energy, Lirium.” His voice is cold, but there’s something underneath it. A flinch. It perplexes me. “But I really don’t want to explain to Ophelia how I had to kill her puppy.”
I frown. “So, you do care. About Ophelia, I mean.”
He looks away, pretending to examine the trinkets on Katy’s dresser. “I owe her,” he says with a sigh. “She saved me once.”
“You have a funny way of paying her back.”
He whips his head back to me. “She attacked me. In front of Kolek. I had no choice.” His chest is heaving, and I believe he means it.
And that, at least, I can understand. “None of us have a choice, do we?” Maybe I can get Valac to help me after all. But his face hardens with my words and I’m losing my chance. I scramble after it. “What’s the story with you and Ophelia?” He looks away again, so I press on. “She told me to ask you.”
He arches an eyebrow. “Did she? Why? Trying to warn you off turning out like me, the one Guppy she couldn’t save?”
“Is that how you ended up here?” I regret it as soon as I ask.
“I chose to come here.”
“My mistake.” I try to sound contrite, but I’m immediately wondering what could send any collector to work for the mob voluntarily. I fold my arms and lean against the door frame. “So… what did Ophelia save you from?”
He laces his hands in front of him, still half-turned away from me, then wrings them apart and picks up one of Katy’s frames. It fades from a picture of her smiling with her surfboard to another with her and a group of similarly perky friends. He sets it back down.
Just when I think he’s not going to answer, he speaks, softly. “Do you remember when I said I had tasted death?” He looks at me, like he’s judging whether I believe him.
I nod. I have no idea what he means, but this is something I need to know.
“I meant that… literally.”
I wait, but he seems to be struggling with it. “Did something go wrong with a transfer?” I guess.
He shakes his head, but I’m not sure if he’s answering me or shaking off some thought that’s captured him. He glances at me. “I used to collect for Madam A.”
I raise my eyebrows. I had forgotten, but she did mention it. “She said you worked for her in the past, but now you…” I hesitate to say it.
“Now I belong to Kolek.” He gives me a wry smile. “She wasn’t too happy when I left.”
“If you were working for her…” I’m trying to piece it together. Valac, lapdog for Kolek, Mr. I have no soul… helping Madam A and her sick kids? “What happened to you?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. “One of the parents of the kids…” He stops. “He was special. When his son died…” Valac looks me in the eyes. “They all die. You know that, right?” He takes a step closer, like this is the most important part. Like it’s critical that I understand. “They all die. Some sooner, some later, but you can’t save them.”
I can’t even get to the point of trying to save them. “I know.” This is something I understand, and it’s easy for me to picture Valac and his lover with the sick kid. “So when his son died, he was angry. At you.”
Valac smiles, suddenly, like what I’ve said is hopelessly naïve. “I wish! I wish he had just taken his anger out on me. Hate me. Leave me. Beat the crap out of me. Something.”
“What did he do?” I can’t imagine it, losing a c
hild. It’s wrong. The universe turned upside down. Children are supposed to grow up, outlive their parents, give them grandchildren. All the things my mother knew would never happen when she agreed to give me over to the Agency. All the things that died in her eyes when she signed that document. After that, I was a ghost to her. My body still existed, but that didn’t change anything. She knew it was only a matter of time.
That’s why I left. How I found myself in an alley with a mob thug, the first time.
I pull myself back out of that memory, realizing Valac has gone silent. He has a thousand mile stare, seeing something that’s not there. Something from the past.
I want to tell him he doesn’t have to tell me. “Valac—”
“He killed himself.”
The words stop in my throat.
“I found him, lying in a pool of his own blood. Slit his wrists.” He laughs in a sad way that makes my chest tight, then waves his hand in the air. “He was always melodramatic that way.” There are strain lines around his eyes. “He was still alive when I got there. I tried to save him. Pumped life energy in him, but I couldn’t stop it. I called 911. I called my mentor. I think I threatened to kill Ophelia if she didn't get the hell over now.” He gives that heart-breaking laugh again. “I was out of my mind. I gave him everything I had. Before anyone arrived, I had run out.” He locks eyes with me. “I gave it all.”
My breath is trapped in my lungs. I force it out. “You paid out everything.”
He nods.
“You died.”
Another nod.
“What… what was it like?”
He gets that thousand mile stare again. “Cold. Dark. Empty. It tasted like… metal.” He closes his eyes, shakes it off, then opens them again. When he does, he looks straight at me. “There was no golden light, no heavenly chorus, no nothing, Lirium. It was just emptiness. I figured it out later. It’s because we have nothing left. All the life energy I gave away, everything I used to save him, it didn’t belong to me.” He stands close, the intensity locking me in. He gestures between our two bodies. “Our souls are long gone. Used up, torn away, destroyed by all the lives we’ve stolen. All the years we’ve taken. Everything we have inside us is borrowed from someone else. When it’s gone… there’s nothing left. Do you understand?”
Driven Page 3
