Her Darkest Beauty_An Alien Invasion Series_The Second Generation

by Patricia Renard Scholes

  He stroked her cheek. "I never believed otherwise."

  "I luf you. No matte’ whah happe’, believe ‘at too," Laren said.

  You're babbling, Karra lectured. You know where you stand. When he finds out, he'll send you to prison, or kill you, and Laren won't exist for him anymore.

  "Don’ kill me," Laren whispered.

  "What?"

  But they were moving her onto the hospital transport. Del stood back to give them more room. Her next words came out too mushed for him to understand. "When you fin’ ou’ about her, when you fin’ out alla it, when you know, when Karra kill Jem…"

  Her words became a jumble of intelligible sounds until she finally fell silent.

  Del never left her side. After the transport stopped he walked beside her as they wheeled her into the hospital. As expected, hospital staff palmprinted her, lifting her hands to the printer for her since she was too drugged to lift them herself.

  Now Del will know, Karra thought.

  But instead of following the palmprint to the reader, Del remained by Laren’s side.

  A woman in white nurse's robes took the palmprint plate into the file room where the reader was stored. She had a proper keycard, so no one asked her any questions. Alone in the room, she pulled a second palmprint plate from a packet under her gown. She set the replacement plate onto the printer and pressed READ, waited for the script to finish, then placed the plate and the script into a file marked LAREN DEMMITA. No one saw her leave. No one considered identifying the woman.

  Chapter 20

  Del regretted that he had not returned to the Palace until late the next evening. Not even the deaths of the members of his family hurt this way. Theirs was an old ache. This was a sharp edge of remorse. He watched Laren in drugged sleep, her swollen, discolored skin accusing him of what he had not done. Tomorrow the King will kill me, she had warned. But he had been so pompous in his authority, thinking it would suffice.

  Thinking! No, he had put her at risk by thinking of no one except himself. He loved her, but he doubted she would believe him now. Did she also love him? She had no reason to any longer.

  May I find the Path to guide us through this.

  He would have felt better had she remained a lady, his quiet, respectable Laren, always correct in her manner and dress. But he could not resolve the contradiction of her other self, that darker woman with unbound hair and vulgar language, who enticed men in near undress, who slept with them for money. The fact that she worked in an establishment as prominent as the King’s Palace told him she must have owned a yellow certificate, even if his initial background check on her had not revealed it. But the palmprint had removed all doubt.

  And then there was the fact of her obvious fear of hospitals.

  Most people from the Outer Area are afraid of hospitals, the doctor had said, responding to what he saw.

  She is not from there, Del had almost protested vocally. He shook his head. Who was he fooling? Even though he had heard for himself her vulgarities, obviously of Outer Area origin, he still could not see the street urchin who must be lying inside her.

  Then where, and from whom, had she learned correct manners and behavior?

  When Laren opened her eyes, she saw the High Commissioner watching her, his expression unreadable. Sick at heart, she closed her eyes. By now he would have Karra’s identity. Soon he would hand her over to prison authorities.

  Boldly, because it was her remaining defense, Karra opened her eyes to return his stare.

  "You stayed," she said. "Why? Don't you have something better to do with your time?"

  "No." He hesitated a moment. "After abandoning you to the King, how can you believe me now when I say I love you?" His expression turned to agony. "I am terribly sorry this happened!"

  "Yeah?" How dare he mock her like this!

  "I cannot blame you for hating me, I guess. Yet, last night under the influence of the drug, you admitted you loved me as well."

  And now your feelings are hurt because you discovered I'm Karra and not your beloved Laren after all. "I should have kept my big mouth shut," she said aloud. "I think I babbled quite a bit last night." She began to worry. What else had she said?

  "Then you do not love me!"

  But Laren began to realize she was not dead to him after all. "I did not lie to you last night," she said gently.

  "So what happens now?" Karra needed to know.

  He gave her a wistful smile. "I think that is up to you, Mistress Laren."

  Mistress Laren? "You palmprinted me, didn't you?" Karra asked.

  "Of course." His eyes narrowed. "And I am very aware of your unsavory past, Mistress Demmita. Did I miss something in your record?"

  Demmita? Why not call me Willo?

  "I understand now why you avoided me once you found out I was the High Commissioner, and why you were afraid to go to the hospital. You were afraid of getting palmprinted, were you not?"

  "Yes," Karra admitted, trying to feel her way through the unexpected cloud of confusion. "So what's in my record?"

  "Quite a bit, actually. Mostly petty larceny and confidence games. Then the one embezzlement charge. All but that last one were childhood incidents. You and your brother have been busy over several years. But the last two years have been remarkably clean. A change of heart, perhaps?"

  "I don't know," Karra said, wishing she could read the file put in place of her own. What had Jem done? And how?

  "Samwell Demmita," he mused aloud. "Your sterling brother. The care he gave you from the time your parents died, the year you turned nine, I believe the record indicates, was abominable. Each time he was locked in, you were placed in a children's home because you were too young to prosecute and too old to adopt out. You could have allowed the home to care for you, but you always ran away seemingly preferring to survive on the streets alone. Why?"

  "Because I could," Karra said, knowing why she would have, had it ever happened. "A children's home is just a lockaway for minors." Her father's words.

  "But how did you support yourself?"

  "How do you think?" Any Area child would have thought that a foolish question. It reeked with ignorance. "Why do you think I wanted to know what was in my record?"

  "I see." In that moment he indeed seemed to see the cunning child she must have been to stay alive. He frowned in distaste.

  “With your brother incarcerated, you managed to attend Artenis Academy. I am impressed.” He gave her a wry smile. “Your graduation certificate was falsified, though, was it not? Your brother was released before you finished and you left school.”

  Karra scowled. Fake papers! The setup had been beautiful. She had been the perfect pawn.

  "I have no doubt that you could have finished had your brother not interfered.” Something like admiration crossed his face.

  She saw it now. A’nden, on record for his stand against prostitution, might be attracted to a human female who worked at a respectable job. But somehow Jem knew that he would be very attracted to someone attempting to get away from an unsavory past.

  "Laren, I have a request.”

  Karra wanted to warn A’nden that someone else was pulling their strings, but it would require telling the truth, the whole unpleasant truth.

  “Think of me simply as Del,” he was saying. “Try to remember how you felt before you learned I was the High Commissioner. Were you serious?"

  Karra hesitated. Now was her opportunity to walk out on him, to run into hiding and disappear with Chalatta.

  But Laren spoke first. "Yes.” Karra clamped Laren's mouth shut, cursing her.

  “I thought so." He smiled in relief. "If you can forgive me for leaving you at the mercy of that terrible bordello owner, I can forgive your past. I want you to be my lady, Laren."

  "Contracted?" Laren blurted.

  Amusement softened his features. "Yes. My contracted Lady. I will arrange a meeting for us with my counselor as soon as you're released."

  Laren smiled happily. I refuse to
give him up, Karra, she said, asserting herself more forcefully than ever before.

  You fool, Karra hissed. What have you gotten us into?

  She heard the contented purr of the beast in the background.

  A somber Del helped Laren into the awaiting aircar. She moved as slowly as an old woman. He whispered a curse against Mason Wester.

  "I can't see your counselor, looking like this," she said. "I need my things from my apartment. My clothes. My cosmetics to hide the bruises. And my purse."

  "Of course," he assured her. "All of your possessions are in your suite."

  "My suite?"

  "In our apartment," he explained.

  “You knew I’d agree?”

  “I strongly hoped.”

  She hoped neither he nor the King had gone through anything, especially her purse with the box containing the palmfilms.

  Karra tried not to fidget on their way to his apartment. It did not surprise her that his aircar rose to the Third Level, or that his building was Secured with private guards. She also noted that his same bodyguards were also his private Security, the fact confronting her when Motz took stance outside Commissioner A'nden's door.

  A few days earlier she might have wondered how the High Commissioner of Sector Five lived. Upon entering, she might have appreciated the quiet luxury of his rooms, the muted hues, the nearly austere decor softened by an occasional vase or cushion. Silk-covered walls lent their own simple extravagance. She passed through rooms large enough to house whole Area families, scarcely noticing, intent on only one set of rooms, the suite that held her belongings.

  With an exaggerated bow, he opened her door for her.

  "My Lady."

  She smiled at the familiar books, clothing and the pieces of art. But Karra was not satisfied until she had examined each item herself. She relaxed only after she noticed that the box with the palmfilms still rested in the bottom of her purse where she had left it.

  "Does this meet with your approval?"

  "Yes." Karra met his eyes finally. "Thank you."

  "I could have replaced anything, or everything, if necessary." He sat beside her on the bed as she snapped her purse closed.

  "Yes. But I worked for each item," she decided to explain.

  “I almost hoped something would be stolen. I really want to arrest Mason Wester. Why won't you make a complaint?"

  "He saved my life, Del," Laren said, silencing Karra.

  "By nearly beating the life out of you?"

  "By giving me work this winter."

  A vivid, unwanted picture of Area life settled uneasily on him. A'nden began to imagine the lives of people without shelter. He could not see how they survived in the harsh grip of winter's fist.

  "How long will it take you to get ready?" he asked, more to erase the vision. Time really mattered little; he had canceled all other appointments.

  "Give me an hour." She held up a light tan gown. "I'll wear the blue bodice with it, the one with the long tassels over the overskirt, and the blue hood with the veil."

  "Lovely." As usual her taste was exquisite. Had someone taught her? Surely she could not have spent her whole life in the Area. Maybe Artenis Academy had provided the polish. "I will leave you to get ready, then," he said, dismissing the incongruity.

  When she emerged from her rooms, all doubt vanished. Once again she had transformed herself into his familiar Laren, no sign of the orphan from the Area. Pleased, he led her to the awaiting aircar on the roof just above their apartment.

  To Karra’s dismay Del took her, not to just any other counselor in the city, but to B'sheer's office.

  "Privileged counsel," she heard Del A'nden say as soon as his palmprint allowed them entrance.

  Karra, following behind, hiding behind her veil, avoiding the gaze of the receptionist.

  "Commissioner A'nden," he said, rising to bow. He gestured to the ornate chairs meant for his clients.

  Del helped Laren to sit, then took his own seat. "I would like you to meet Laren Demmita," he said as soon as B'sheer had made himself comfortable.

  B'sheer started. "Mistress Demmita? Commissioner, I am obliged to tell you…"

  "Privileged counsel," Karra interrupted, throwing back her veil, daring him to speak. "Del, Counselor B'sheer and I are old associates." She smiled at her advisor. "You wouldn't want to betray my confidence, would you, Master B'sheer?"

  "Not since you put it that way." His mouth turned down in disapproval. "Is this the man you referred to during our last meeting?"

  "Yes. Del, Master B'sheer is aware of my profession,” she said, taking care not to say which profession. “I told him I found a man I liked, and not as a client. I did not give your name, however. No doubt he is very surprised to find he is you." By law, once she had requested privileged counsel, she was required to tell the truth in her counselor's presence. She was not, however, bound to reveal every single thing in her life, and certainly not if anyone else were in his audience. When Karra requested privileged counsel, she bound him by his own laws not to betray her confidence.

  Laren let Karra take the lead, impressed with the skill with which she had effectively trapped her counselor. But she intended to listen with close attention to every detail, to make sure Karra saw to her interests.

  B'sheer folded his hands on his desk and leaned forward. "How may I help you, Commissioner A'nden, Mistress Demmita?"

  Chapter 21

  Jem strolled toward her with his sure, casual gait. He covered the distance from the archway to her table quickly in easy, loose-jointed strides. He actually passed the hostess leading him to her table, and recognized Karra, not Laren. Karra watched his approach, her sculpted face expressionless, too perfect. He knew that look, and hid a shiver of fear.

  He glanced at the table to see her hands. Her left hand rested on the table in a dainty, ruffled, pale green glove. Gloves. Bad sign. Her right hand could easily be holding a gun under the table.

  "Hi, Laren," he said, hoping to entice her alter. He grinned at her as he sat down.

  "Let's hear your side of it." Karra. Laren was nowhere in sight. He noticed the bruises on her face, not quite covered with a layer of heavy makeup. She had not gotten away from the King easily. She showed no emotion, but he knew that behind the icy façade raged a nearly uncontrollable fire. He realized he needed to divert her quickly or he would die.

  "I heard what happened," he said, keeping his voice a deliberate calm, easing into a bit of sympathy. “I’m so sorry, Laren.”

  "Good for you." No sign of Laren.

  A trickle of sweat ran icily down his back. "I'm sorry. What can I say? I mean, how was I to know the High Commissioner would show up at that party and spoil everything?”

  "Really? Del wasn't invited. He invited himself after someone notified him that I would be there, someone who knew we were seeing each other." Her eyes bored into his, cutting steel. "I think that someone was you."

  His heart jumped. He put on a hurt expression, hoping he had covered his alarm quickly enough. "How can you say that? Why would I do something that might get you hurt? Haven't I always protected you?"

  "Have you? I think Laren’s being with the High Commissioner is so important you might risk anything."

  "Not anything. Never my Laren. How can you even consider such an idea?" Jem watched her frown slightly. Her eyes flickered, which sometimes meant he had reached her other persona. He hoped Laren believed him.

  But it was Karra’s voice that said, "Do you know what happened? Del refused to let me work the party. The King objected. Strongly. Do you know how I deal with people who lay hands on me like that?"

  "Of course I know. Your enemies die."

  "All of them. Including the ones who set me up."

  "But Laren, I only have your interests at heart. I couldn’t set you up." He kept his eyes steady.

  "I don't believe you." But he saw another flicker of indecision before she shook it away. Did that mean Laren was beginning to believe him?

  �
��You will not walk away from this.” Karra’s voice again.

  "So kill me." He glared at her. “Murder is what Karra does best, isn’t it?” he asked, playing into her duality. If he guessed right, her gentler persona wanted nothing to do with murder. No coaxing would impress Karra. "You should know by now you'd never get away from here alive. Watch your future, Sis."

  But it was Karra who still responded. "Neither of us have a future."

  Jem’s heart lurched. With nothing to lose, he decided to try something. “Laren? You’re the only one who can keep her from getting stupid and killing me. What will it be? Will you let an assassin have free reign, or will you finally show some backbone? Do you want this woman destroying our future?”

  Karra’s eyes blinked rapidly as she struggled with his words.

  He had known that if he addressed her by name, usually Laren appeared, but that Laren had such a strong influence on her told him something else. Karra must have been wanting to quit the business altogether, and the strength of the persona was giving her that chance. Her response also answered another question. With Laren in charge, Karra was no killer. She was exactly the person Jem had envisioned when he had created her background.

  She still seemed to struggle. Interesting. Karra, it seemed, fought more against herself than with him. If he could reach Laren before Karra connected all the loose ends and regained control, he might just survive this situation.

  But it was Karra’s voice that responded. “You’re full of sass. Do you know that? Living with Del is as dangerous as having you for an enemy. As soon as he uncovers my identity, I'll be just as dead as if the Homelander Front figures out who killed you.”

  Jem tried another tack. He put on a helpless expression that Sami might have worn. “Please, Laren! Don’t let that awful woman kill your only remaining family. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”

  “You wouldn’t.” Laren’s voice. Jem almost gave an audible sigh of relief.

  Her right arm moved slightly. He heard the soft metallic sound of a safety being set, or released.