by Wren Weston
Even the buildings still in use had not escaped the barrage. Only plywood and an open door told the difference between them.
The destruction had started before Alex left the compound, but her leaving had greatly exaggerated it. She cringed at every corner, at every building, at every familiar face locked in unfamiliar circumstance.
Once upon a time, the Wilsons had been the epitome of fashion. But today, groups of teens, young adults, and the elderly plodded along, bound for nowhere in particular, dressed in fraying suits and dresses several seasons out of date. The poorer classes walked among them, donning soiled clothes several sizes too small or too large, holes at the knees and elbows.
Lila wasn’t sure why the servants didn’t take up contracts with other families. Perhaps there were no servants left, and these were slaves. Or perhaps these servants were the most desperate, unfit for much more than the poorest lowborn family. Everyone had to work somewhere. Everyone had to eat. Perhaps this was the best some of them could do. Perhaps they were just as trapped as the highborn.
If there had been a waiting prime, Celeste Wilson would have been assassinated by her own family for such incompetence.
Lila parked in front of Wilson Tower, surrounded on all sides by rows of empty spaces. A decade before, the lot would have been full. On a day like today, the tower should have caught the sun, glittering like a precious gem on the crown of a queen. Now a thin layer of grime covered every mirrored surface, stealing its beauty. It might have been made of plastic and paste, nothing more than a child’s tiara.
A man emerged from the tower, clad in a well-worn golden blazer marked with a serpent coat of arms, hands clasped behind his back. His face lightened when he saw the women exit the vehicle, the dimple in his chin more prominent as he smiled.
“They said you were at the gate, but I didn’t believe them.” He picked up Alex in a large hug.
“Patrick.” His sister beamed after she was returned to the pavement. “Have you seen Simon?”
“No. Mother has forbidden it, just like she forbade us from seeing you.” The dark circles under Patrick’s eyes didn’t seem that far removed from the state of the compound. When the Randolphs took over the estate, every building would need extensive repairs and renovation. Of course, that assumed Chairwoman Randolph didn’t raze the structures and rebuild it all from scratch.
It would probably be cheaper.
Patrick took his sister’s arm and escorted the pair inside. They crossed over threadbare carpet, passed by peeling wallpaper, moved around the mismatched chairs in the waiting room, sliding by the spaces where priceless art had once hung on the walls. Alex stopped in front of a bright square nestled among the faded paint. “The Rembrandt. The Mill. It was here.”
“It sold at auction last year in the Netherlands. It was one of the first to go.” Patrick picked at the hole where the nail had once been. “I tried to stop her from selling it. I always thought you’d find your way back somehow, and that it should be here when you walked through the doors. Mother was adamant, though. We needed the money. I’m sorry, Alex.”
“What exactly was the money used for?” Lila asked.
“Making more money, I suppose. You have to spend money to make money.”
Lila and Alex locked eyes. Though Jewel’s age, Patrick had always been a little dim. It was lucky he was so handsome. He’d make someone a fine husband, as long as that someone wanted a sweet, beautiful puppy.
Patrick led them to the elevator, doors marred by a long dent and a curious round indentation that looked suspiciously like a bullet hole. Patrick would not meet her eyes after she touched it. As the doors rattled shut, Lila feared that the elevator might not be strong enough to reach the top of the tower.
“A serviceman was out here last week for the annual inspection. It’ll hold,” Patrick assured her.
“Did it pass?”
Patrick nodded.
“With or without a bribe?”
Patrick ignored Lila’s swipe.
The still-rattling doors opened directly into the chairwoman’s waiting room. They were the last indication of the infection raging throughout the Wilson compound, for the twentieth floor of Wilson Tower was a genie’s bottle of opulence and elegance. Cream-colored chairs lined the walls in the waiting room and matched the hand-painted wallpaper. Peace lilies sat atop mahogany tables, potted in gilded vases. Everything had been replaced recently, the entire office redecorated and renewed in keeping with current trends.
Everything but the art. The same pieces still hung proudly upon the walls.
Patrick bowed and opened a door. “I will inform the chairwoman that you are here.”
Once he retired into the other room, Lila glanced at her friend. “He’s become her secretary. I don’t want to sound rude, Alex, but—”
“He’s not bright enough?”
“Well, I wouldn’t have phrased it so bluntly, but it’s suspicious that she’s using someone like Patrick to help her now, someone who doesn’t know enough to understand when things are a bit sketchy. She’s hiding something.”
“I agree, and I don’t like it.” Alex studied the art on the walls. “These aren’t the originals, you know. That Rembrandt over there? It’s a forgery. A very good one, but it’s still false. I used to sketch the original when I was little, whenever I was waiting for my mother to finish her work. It was worth millions. Every painting in here is gone, as are the ones downstairs. What has she done, Lila? I never thought it could get this bad.”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.” Lila retired to one of the arched windows, realizing that Chairwoman Wilson must have more than one secret account if so much of her estate had been sold off. “She’ll probably have us waiting at least twenty minutes. That’s time to make an inventory of the property.”
While they waited, Alex pointed out building after building that had been shuttered and what might have been moved or sold. A teenage boy interrupted them mid-conversation, wheeling a mop and bucket behind him. He couldn’t have been more than fifteen, but his body was small for his age.
“Hello, Oskar,” Lila called out.
The boy inclined his head. “Hello, madam.” He shuffled into the restroom before she could say more, face blank, eyes fixed on the sloshing water, careful not to make a mess.
“He’s growing up fast, isn’t he?” she asked Alex, remembering Peter Kruger well enough to recognize his son after so many years.
It was in the eyes. Exhausted. Hopeless. Dead.
“I bet my mother still makes Peter scrub the sewers. Oscar’s twin sister is probably in the scullery as we speak, washing the dishes or the oven or even the walls. When I first found out I was going up for auction, I worried that I would end up like them. I still do. Sometimes it’s hard for me to remember that I have it so well. Sometimes I feel like I have to do something to ensure that I’m not scrubbing sewers for the rest of my—”
A door burst open in the back of the waiting room, and Patrick returned. “The chairwoman will see you now,” he said, bowing. “I’ll wait for you out here.”
He smiled kindly and sat on one of the cream-colored chairs, pulling out his palm. Lila wondered if it was for work or play. Probably some sort of game, knowing Patrick. What sort of work could he possibly have to do in such a place?
Alex followed Lila into the chairwoman’s office, awash in gold. The woman sat upon a golden couch in a little nook to the left of her desk, a painting of a golden serpent with bared fangs on the wall behind her desk chair. The matron’s silvercoat had been impeccably tailored, and the embroidered coat of arms matched the golden dress underneath. A framed Van Gogh loomed over them, with Japanese characters painted along the edges of the piece.
The chairwoman motioned to two plush chairs across from her couch, both upholstered in the same golden hue. “Speak quickly, girls. My lunch is waiting.”
/> Alex gaped at her mother. Time had worked quickly, or perhaps it was all the medication. She had lost weight and height in the last year, and her arms and legs had dwindled in size. Her eyes bulged in their sockets, and her gray hair flowed freely past her shoulders, frizzing in the damp, foggy afternoon. It gave her a squirrel-like, neurotic appearance.
For the first time, Lila understood how Simon might have mistaken his mother for being ill. Lila had seen the chairwoman during the last season, but only in the soft light of the ballroom and only under several layers of makeup. It had been enough to hide her stress and wrinkles, but the harsh light of the office only made them worse.
The chairwoman’s eyes hardened at Alex’s presence. “You fought so hard to be free of me even after I warned you to be careful of what you wish for. What do you think of your new life now?”
Alex stared at the floor. “Hello, Mother.”
“Don’t call me that, slave. How dare you come into my home now after you’ve been cast out of it. Just look at what you’ve done to us.”
The words slapped at Alex, clearly hitting their mark with more force than a fist.
“I don’t believe Alex had much to do with this,” Lila said. “Besides, we didn’t come to visit. Simon’s worried. He said you’ve been ill. He made me promise to bring Alex to visit you. I would have brought him along if I thought the Massons could spare him.”
“You saw him?” The chairwoman crossed her legs and sat up straighter on the couch.
“Yes, I did.”
“What could you possibly have to talk about with a boy ten years your junior?”
“This and that.” Lila loosely held the audio bug she had palmed while in the waiting room. “Are you going to ask us to sit?”
The chairwoman waved at the padded chairs across from her, fixing her eyes on Alex with a disgruntled sneer. “Not you, slave. These chairs are new.”
Lila sat down while the chairwoman’s attention was on her daughter. Under the pretense of adjusting her short sword, she brushed the bug under her seat. Her finger lingered and pushed, sticking it into place firmly.
“So? How is he?” the chairwoman prompted. “I suspect he’s gotten taller.”
“You haven’t visited him?”
“Of course I haven’t. The boy turned into a delinquent. Selling black market drugs on my own property, after all my care and attention? It’s reprehensible,” she said. “Besides, it takes two hours to get out to Massonville and back again. I refuse to give the boy that much of my time.”
“Simon didn’t sell any drugs,” Alex protested. “You know that he wouldn’t do that.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that,” Lila said. “People will do a lot of things for money, won’t they, chairwoman?”
Alex shook her head. “Not Simon.”
“What exactly are you implying, Chief Randolph?” The chairwoman intertwined her fingers in her lap. Her thumbs tapped back and forth.
“I’m not implying anything. I’m just saying that I can understand why the kid might have done it. He’s always been a well-behaved, studious boy, but even well-behaved, studious boys have desires. Anyone can see that your family is struggling, so I can understand why he might have been tempted to sell a few trance tabs here and there, just to make some extra—”
“We’re not struggling. And it wasn’t just trance tabs.”
“Is that so?”
“We’re doing fine. I’ve shuttered a few non-productive businesses recently. I’ve restructured a bit of debt. We just won several new contracts. We’ll be back to our former glory in no time. With a new heir. Very soon.” The chairwoman’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“Of course you and I understand business, but young boys rarely do. If Simon didn’t understand the state of the compound, the reason why your purse had closed, he might have taken matters into his own hands. Highborn schools can be just as rough on declining families as they are on new money. You’d know about that, wouldn’t you, chairwoman?”
“Your backhanded slaps are tedious, Chief Randolph.”
“My apologies,” Lila said, braving her friend’s irritated glances. “I only meant to say that perhaps the boy wanted money for new clothes, new shoes, perhaps a new designer belt to prove his worth to his friends.”
“I gave that boy everything that he wanted. How dare you come in here implying otherwise. We were and are doing fine. He had no reason to betray his family like that.”
“Betray? That’s a strong word, isn’t it, chairwoman?”
“No. I don’t think it is.”
“Mother, even if he did sell drugs in that club, it was just—”
“Be quiet, slave. No one asked you to speak.”
Alex sucked in her breath. To her credit, she refused to stare at the floor again.
Lila studied the chairwoman’s unblinking face and her still-tapping thumb. “Bringing Alex to visit wasn’t the only reason why I stopped by. My Aunt Georgina has been thinking of procuring a new software contract, something to streamline her growing bridal empire. The poorer classes do so love their weddings. If you had time for a meeting next month, I’d like to set something up. I can’t guarantee that you’d win the contract, but I’ll put in a good word for you during the—”
“We don’t do brides.”
“Really? I suspect that if I were in your shoes and it would save my family, then I’d do the rightful king of Germany.”
“Lila!” Alex shouted, eyes wide.
Her name echoed in the small room, spurring the chairwoman’s burning gaze. The thumb kept tapping.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” Lila smirked. “I just meant that no matter what state the Randolphs might be in, we’d never turn down an opportunity to make money if there was enough money to be had in a deal.”
“We don’t need any new deals.”
“Is that true? Judging by the state of this compound, I’m under the impression that you do. In fact, you seem desperate for them.”
“Mother, take the meeting,” Alex pleaded. “You obviously need the—”
The chairwoman’s head swiveled. “I told you to be quiet, slave. If you need an occupation, then you can join Oskar in the restrooms. We can always find toilets for our slaves to clean.”
“Yes, I’m certain it takes all their effort to wade through your family’s shit.” Lila smiled. “I’ll ask you one more time. Would you like a meeting with Aunt Georgina or not?”
“No.”
“I must confess I’m surprised by your answer. It was Simon who asked about possible deals between our families. He mentioned that he couldn’t please you with the deals he helped bring in. They were never the right terms or with the right sort of families. He wanted to discharge his duty to the family by bringing you a deal worthy of the highborn. He said you needed the money for something important.”
Chairwoman Randolph’s thumb stopped twitching. “Simon is a child. Children make mistakes.”
“They certainly do. With that understanding, I have to wonder why you aren’t forgiving your son for his evening of stupidity. He is a child, after all, and a mistake is just a mistake. A mistake is forgiven.”
Chairwoman Wilson stood up and pointed at the door. “That will be all, Chief Randolph. My lunch is waiting.”
Lila did not move from her chair. “Simon still loves you. He cried while talking about you.”
“I said that will be all.” Strands of hair fell into the chairwoman’s eyes. She looked the part of an ancient oracle, those long-dead queens, shouting curses at the raiders circling their town, boasting that their gods would protect them from harm even when they knew they had no hope. “Get out, or I shall have Patrick carry you all the way to the gate.”
Lila stood and straightened her blackcoat. “I’ll spare your son the exertion. After all, he’s still a highborn. For now.”
Alex followed Lila out. As soon as they entered the waiting room, Patrick shoved his palm into his pocket. He was too late to hide the telltale signs of colored pixels on its screen. A few bars of tinny eight-bit music still hung in the air.
Patrick led them to the elevator and happily punched the buttons, seemingly oblivious to their mood. He spent the entire walk through the building trying to convince the two women to stay for lunch.
Lila opened her mouth to accept, but Alex shook her head. “I have work that I must get back to, Patrick.”
“Perhaps another time, then? You’ll come back to visit, won’t you?”
“I have a better idea, Patrick,” Lila said. “Perhaps one day you could go to lunch outside the estate. If Alex and I just happened to be there, you wouldn’t be breaking your mother’s rule if we asked to join you. After all, it would be impolite of you to refuse another highborn.”
Patrick laughed at the idea, and a dimple peeked from his chin. “I’d like that. Give me a suggestion of a place I should check out. Just”—he paused, considering his scruffy boots—“maybe not anywhere expensive. Mother will probably have her spies there, and it’s tacky to spend so much these days, isn’t it?”
“Very tacky,” Lila agreed, “and boring.”
Patrick grinned and tried to engage his sister in conversation, but Alex only spoke in hard pleasantries. Her brother didn’t seem to notice. When they arrived at the Adessi, he hugged both of them off the ground and twirled them in a little circle.
Lila watched him jog back into the building. “I’ve missed your brothers. I should have convinced them both to meet us away from the family compounds ages ago.”
“Patrick and Simon have always done whatever Mother told them. Times haven’t changed that much. I doubt they would have agreed.”
“Patrick might meet us somewhere,” Lila said, climbing into the Adessi.
“Maybe.”
As the militia cruiser braked behind her roadster, Lila dug into her blackcoat and pulled out an earpiece. She fiddled with one of the controls and popped it into ear. She heard a muffled voice and took her hand off the wheel to increase the volume.
