by Sarah Noffke
“Vivian,” I say, wondering how convoluted the company is set up that the Lucidites didn’t see this with our recent investigation. None of the connections between these men was realized, nor Vivian’s connection to the company. It must have been shielded somehow. “And why does the witch want control of her father’s company.”
“He wouldn’t sign off on her newest project,” Ted says. He pauses and wheezes.
I sigh. “Which is?”
“Smart Pods.” Again another pause while he tries to breathe past his racing pulse.
“Will you fucking get on with it and tell me what that is? What are Smart Pods?” I say, my short bit of patience having long past run out.
“They are devices that go in homes. They pick up on voice commands,” he says, now talking at an acceptable speed. “They can control everything in a house: lights, temperature, security. They are connected to the internet and store all conversations in a house to provide family history. Furthermore, they play music, games, read books, control all the digital entertainment for a family. And Smart Pods make purchases when directed or offer facts when asked. There’s a voice that members interact with. She’ll answer or do anything a person asks.”
“Vivian’s voice, I’m guessing,” I say.
“Yes,” he says and his arm shakes. It probably feels like lead since he’s been holding it up all this time.
“And she’s going to use this technology to control any households nationwide, is that right?” I say.
“Yeah,” he says with hiss.
“And you helped clear all the bloody red tape so she could get clearance from the government to help,” I say. “That bit about recording conversations for family records, that’s a true invasion of privacy.”
“I had to. She made me,” he says, and I might spy a bit of guilt in his voice. Just a bit though.
“I’m sure she did, but you’re still going to hell, Teddy. So what does she plan to do once she’s got the evil devices in homes?” I say.
“I don’t know,” he says, shaking his head erratically. “She never told me.”
I’m sure it will involve evil and destruction. “Did she tell you what she wants with me?”
His eyes widen and a look of repulsion covers his face. “Please no. Please not that. You really are better off not knowing everything.”
This man is such a politician. His manner reminds me a bit of Trey. They both seem to think that individuals are better off knowing little, like too many details will keep us up at night. I’m already up at night, wondering what Vivian’s plan could entail and how it relates to me.
“Go ahead and stretch that hand up so that the point of your pretty letter holder is directed at your jugular,” I say with a flick of my wrist, the heavy intention loaded in my words.
He does as I say, his eyes watching his own hand like it’s a diabolical murderer, moving closer.
“Please no, please,” Ted begs.
“It will take little force for you to stab yourself. Or…” I leave the alternative hanging in the air.
Ted’s eyes jerk to me. “She’s obsessed with you,” he says in a rush. “Vivian pretends you’re already with her. Makes me acknowledge you when we meet although you aren’t present. She pretends to consult with you. Has conversations. She knows everything about you. Laughs at jokes you don’t tell. She’s insane. You can’t mess with her. You should go underground. Get as far from her as possible. There’s no getting around her voice control. I’ve tried. Only her father and uncles could resist her.”
Ted’s admission makes me smile inside. Crazy bitch who is obsessed with me. Kind of like the sound of this more and more. “I’m not a coward,” I say to the trembling weakling in front of me. “Don’t you worry about me. But do tell me how she knows so much about me. About the Lucidites.”
Ted hesitates. His eyes fly to the hand holding the knife, which is shaking against his neck now.
“Just a few ounces of your own pressure should do the job,” I say, rocking forward on my heels and then back again. This kind of thing really is too much fun.
“There’s a mole,” he says in a rush.
“Mole?” I say.
He nods. “At the Lucidite Institute. That’s how she knew how to block Roya, that news reporter, and she’s had this person watching you for all these years.”
“Who is it?” I say.
“I don’t know,” he says, and unfortunately he isn’t lying. I can tell. “I only heard her speak to them over the phone a few times. You see, Vivian was trained at the Institute years ago but went on her own. However, even after she left, she kept eyes on you. This person reports on all your activity.”
Thousands of Dream Travelers are brought into the Institute when they come of age. They’re trained, given a set of dream travel rules, and then released back into the world with the hopes they’ll contribute to society, not harm it. This is another of Trey’s long-running agendas. And in promoting it, he’s obviously allowed traitors into the Institute. I may have even trained Vivian. My photographic memory will have to shuffle through the back catalogue to figure that out. And then I’ll have to hunt down this mole and make them kill themselves.
“For how long?” I say, my head fuming with anger. “How long has someone been spying on me?”
“I don’t know. This is mostly just what I’ve learned during her imaginary conversations with you.” His hand shakes violently now, his muscles obviously fatigued from holding up the weapon for so long in one position. “That’s all I know. Will you release me, please?”
“Tell you what, Ted. You stay like that until the sun sets,” I say, gazing out the window. The city landscape to the west spreads out in all directions. It’s about ten minutes until the sun starts its final descent. “When that sun kisses the horizon you can lower your arm and go about your repugnant life. That is, unless your hand fatigues too much before then and you kill yourself.” The mind control I’ve placed in those words will wear off in roughly ten minutes, which means my planning worked out perfectly. As usual.
“Cheers,” I say, teleporting away.
Chapter Thirty-One
One week later
Winter time in Los Angeles is about like any season in this congested city. Most of its residents still fashion their stupid shorts and have their sunglasses sitting on their tanned faces. People pay a high premium to live in Los Angeles because of the weather. They fail to realize God ripped seasons from the city, which is what creates a balance. Not having winter isn’t a blessing, it’s what’s going to cause the city to fall into the bloody ocean. Sadly, I’ll be part of the collateral damage, but at least I’ll be taking Dahlia with me.
“How does that look?” Adelaide says, standing back and tilting her head to regard the Christmas tree from a different vantage point.
“It’s horrid. Absolutely the worst thing I’ve ever seen,” I say, my eyes on the book in my hands.
“It’s beautiful, dear,” Dahlia says, throwing a hand back and slapping me on the shoulder. She didn’t really look either and I know because her head is partially on my lap. She has her own book sitting in front of her face.
“You know, Dahlia has people she pays to do that,” I say to Adelaide, who is now hanging a crystal angel on a branch.
“Ren, she wanted to do it. And she’s better at it than my people,” Dahlia says, and now lowers her book to look at the tree and its decorations. “It must be your artistic eye.”
“I’m glad you think so. It’s my first time to decorate a Christmas tree,” Adelaide says.
“No,” Dahlia says, popping into a seated position. “But you said your mother was religious.”
“Well, yeah, but we were as poor as shit,” she says with a shrug.
At this Dahlia slaps my arm again.
“Don’t slap me,” I say, my eyes still on the sentence I’ve been trying to read for ten minutes. “It’s not my fault her mum couldn’t get a better paying job.”
“Well, she had
the burden of raising your child,” Dahlia says, and by the tone of her voice she’s offended.
I look up to find Adelaide with a slight smile on her face. She’s enjoying this. “I grew up in the lower class too,” I say. “It builds character. And now you’re rich. Happy? It’s bloody great being rich.”
“You’re rich actually,” Adelaide says, her eyes on the tree, an intent focus on the arrangement, like she’s trying to figure out what needs adjusting.
“Yes I am. But what’s mine is yours. That’s how this whole repugnant arrangement works, right?” I say.
“I don’t want your damn money,” Adelaide says, straightening a fake robin on a limb.
“Oh, then you just want to live with us and have us pay your way while you sketch ponies all day and hone your evil dream traveling skills? Is that it?” I say.
“Yeah, that seems about right,” Adelaide says. “Does that work?”
“Sure,” I say with an indifferent shrug. I’m pulling my book back up when my mobile rings on the tabletop.
A brief glance at the caller ID earns a long sigh from me. I consider not answering, since I’m supposed to have the week off to readjust after the move; well, and to spend dozens of hours shagging Dahlia.
“What?” I say into the phone.
“Ren, I have news,” Trey says.
“Is this about Vivian?” I say and at once notice Dahlia tense. She knows who Vivian is. Doesn’t like the way I told the story, which was matter-of-fact. “She said we were going to rule from the cliff tops. The Marilyn Monroe lookalike definitely has the hots for me.”
“Get that look off your face,” I say to Dahlia.
“Excuse me?” Trey says.
“Not you,” I say. “Although you probably have that wrinkled brow thing going on. So go ahead and get that look off your face too.”
“And no, this isn’t about Vivian. We still have the investigative reporters looking into things. I’ll let you know when I have more information,” Trey says.
“I cannot wait,” I say, my voice dead of emotion.
“This is about Adelaide actually,” Trey says, and his voice shifts. Tightens.
“Go on,” I say, my eyes flicking to the girl who has no idea her name has been mentioned, her eyes pinned on her task of decorating the tree.
“I had her blood test run,” Trey says.
“Why would you do that? I told you she didn’t want the job,” I say and Adelaide’s attention is ripped from her work. She stares at me with uncertain eyes.
“I know, but I thought that if she changed her mind, then we’d be ready to go. I kind of figured in time she’d come around,” Trey says.
“Well, maybe she will,” I say, giving Adelaide a look, the one I keep giving her when we discuss this topic and she fights me on it.
“Doesn’t matter if she does,” Trey says. “She doesn’t qualify at the current time to be an agent.”
“Wait. What?” I say, not having expected Trey to say that. “How is that even possible?”
“It’s her blood test,” he says. That’s all he says, which is insufficient.
“Why?” I say at once.
“She has a condition, and the test states that she’s had it since before you met her. Four, maybe five months,” Trey says.
“A condition,” I say, my voice suddenly higher than usual. Dahlia’s eyes are wide with worry as she listens to only my part of the conversation.
Adelaide has shuffled to put some garland back in a box, her fast hand movements making her nervousness known. Then she turns and rushes for the door.
“Yes, a condition. Ren, Adelaide is pregnant,” Trey says.
“Oh fuck,” I say, hanging up on Trey at once.
Epilogue
I’ve wondered for quite time if stupidity would be the thing that killed the human race. Now I realize how wrong the question was. Yes, being stupid could kill us. However, I never considered that it was in fact stupidity that kept us on this bloody Earth. Stupidity may just be the very reason that humans have continued to exist when we should have died out long ago. This is because stupid people are prone to breed more stupid people into this world, creating a never-ending cycle. Actually, stupid people are the ones breeding. The ones too daft to take care not to overpopulate our crowded cities and overburden our resources with babies. These babies then grow up to do the same as their parents, creating an epidemic of stupidity that can’t be erased.
And I never realized that one day I’d discover that I was one of those stupid people. I’ve bred stupidity into this world.
I’m Ren Lewis and I’m a part of the problem.
Keep Reading for the Next Installment in the Ren Series!
Acknowledgements:
I have some amazing readers. I’m not just saying that. I wouldn’t. I don’t give lip service. Today a reader made me my very own personalize Pokémon card. That makes me a big deal. And then another made personalized pillow designs for me. Wait, what? I’ve dreamed about this…well, not specifically. But still to have people, real people, make memes for me and all sorts of other awesome stuff. Well it’s the things I’ve dreamed about. I wrote alone for so long and just wanted someone to care one day. Actually, I wanted a lot of someone’s to care. And now I have so many supportive and super fun readers. I’m serious when I say that you all make my day, each and every day. There’s too many awesome moments where I’m so glad I chose this profession. I love teaching, but my students don’t make GIFs for me, let’s be honest. They’re cool and all, but you all rock. So thank you.
Thank you to my editor Christine LePorte. I think this was the rare book where you really had to give me direction. And that you did and I’m supremely happy with the edits. Here’s to number eleven.
Thank you to my cover designer Andrei Bat. Fastest cover ever. And that was even with me totally mucking up the instructions in the beginning. Good thing we can laugh about it now. Well, I’m not laughing. But go ahead, laugh at the things I do. That’s fine. You’re allowed, because you’re awesome and I love your work. Can’t wait to work on the next cover with you. And the next and the next. You get the point.
And then there’s my awesome beta reading team for this book, which makes me feel like I’m a mastermind with a cabinet who advises. I heart my beta readers for a lot of reasons. One they make me better. Two they make my books better. And three they make the world better, but I’m not sure they know this last one. It’s still true. So a huge thank you to my first chair Colleen. You may ask why she’s called that. Well she puts in the time, the effort, the awesomeness. And she sits in the first chair for that reason. Colleen is my first reader. The person who sees my books when they’re still crap. She overlooks the roughness and polishes them until they are near perfect. And she tells me things. Things that helps, like this scene blew my socks off and this one I didn’t understand. And we converse and in the process my books get better. All because this lady cares and loves me and Ren and the books that he’s in. Lol. And then there’s my other amazing beta readers. Heidi, Heidi, Kelly, and Melinda. You all gave me such fantastic input. Each different. Each helpful. And can I just say that discussing the nuances of the book with each one of you really helps my journey when creating. I don’t discount any of it. Every bit we talk about is vaulted away, analyzed and used in some regard. This is the weirdness that is me.
Thank you to Katie for checking my British vernacular. I’m not British, only obsessed with a man who is. And it’s important that I get him and his city spot on. Your input on the first Ren book was so helpful and since then I’ve had many a Brit tell me how accurate the book was. All thanks to you.
And a big thank you to Dominic and Maja who run the fan group on Goodreads. I know that Dominic can’t read these books yet because Ren is a filthy man. But still that kid makes each day better when he sends me an email. His support is awesome. He makes bookmarks, advertises and creates tons of threads about my books. I only wished that I would inspire someone like this one da
y. Now that I have, well I’m feeling like doing a cartwheel. However, I won’t because I can’t. I’m at a desk right now.
And thank you to BOD. I say it over and over and it’s never enough. You all run my parties. You all share my posts. You all buy my ebooks, then signed paperbacks and audiobooks. I’m not sure what hocus pocus surrounds BOD members, but I’ve yet to find one who isn’t amazing. Who didn’t give me amazing support. And who I don’t freaking adore. Seriously in love with this group. The ladies who run it are superb. And so grateful to Katy for running the release party for this book. You rock, but you kind of know that by now.
Thank you to my friends. Seriously, I’m the weirdest introvert most have ever met. I hate to socialize and then when I do, I’m in love with the experience. I guess it’s because I have awesome friends. You all go above and beyond to support me. Some of you read the books and love them. Some of you just support me. And then there’s a few of you who I suspect don’t care for me, but love the books. Whatevs. It all works in the end. Thank you to each and every one of you.
Thank you for entering the contest and suggesting the dark classics mentioned in this book. Stephanie, Cheryl, Elizabeth, and Katy. I love you all for so many reasons. Your comments keep me laughing and uplifted. So happy to share this book with you.
Thank you to my street team and to the main person on it. Kathy. You’re more than awesome and I love getting the notifications that you’re talking about the books.
Thank you to Stephanie, Jessica and Christopher. Wow, if it wasn’t for your major derailments on Facebook I would have written twelve more books this year. And I would be super unhappy and in need of laughter. You all rock. Thank you.
Thank you to super fans everywhere. I really can’t do this without you. Thank you to Anne, Katy, Kathy, Katie, Anna, Elizabeth, Shelah, Stephanie, Heidi, Melinda, April, Kelly, Cheryl, Vikki, Cheree, Casey, Maria, Cheryl, Belinda, Christopher, Derek, Clint, Marcus, Jamie, Tiffany, Marie, Susi, Nicole, Ashely, and many more. Love you all. I do this writing thing to keep you proud and entertained. Well, really I write just to keep Kelly entertained. The rest of you, it’s just extra that I publish these works. That’s the way it goes. You get it, I hope.
