“People,” I interject. But I notice my jumping leg and twitching trigger finger revealing my emotional side, and I know I should keep it tamed. Creations do not show their emotions. We do not combat our leaders. And I’ve broken both these rules.
“Un-hun,” she says in an impassive tone. She nods once, dragging her deceptive gaze away from me to the bench a few feet in front of us. “They are very important, not just to the Guidance, but to the entire world.” Arletta approaches the stone bench. Before she sits, she dusts the back of her hand over a spot. She frowns at the bench and seems to settle for its lack of cleanliness, sitting. “Creations saved us. They continue to save us, and we appreciate their service and are grateful to the scientists for their unique making.” Arletta crosses her legs, revealing her white high-heeled shoes that are usually covered by her draping pant legs. She takes in a breath and looks up. “It is a beautiful night.”
The garden is well lit by lights shining up from the ground, tucked beneath bushes and in the walls on the building. I plaster on a smile. “It is.”
The small area, including two benches and a trash can, is surrounded by column trees. A sidewalk leads through a winding path of these tall trees and bushes. I can’t see where it leads to. The tall bushes, scattered with flowers, surround this sitting area. It’s quite nice. “Carden requested I consider giving up Separation and come here. But I am not a trinket to be placed on a shelf, nor am I one to sit aside and ogle at the world.” I grimace at the thought and have to bite my tongue. A heavy weight falls on my shoulders. I’m itching to speak my mind and get all my real questions out, but I don’t trust her. I stare at the ground made up of tiny pebbles that crunch under my boots.
A shadow casts across Arletta’s face, as a cold breeze rustles the branches of the nearby trees. “We do not look at you as such, Kylie.”
“No. Let me finish.” I clutch the cool edge of the bench in my hands. “While I may be a weapon, I am not an experiment. I may have been created in a tube, but I will not approve of being tested on.”
Arletta contorts her face into what appears to be a kind smile and shakes her head. “We wouldn’t think of it. Carden has requested you to be considered for a new placement we are trying out, which will give you further growth into more political attributes of the America. Carden has taken a liking to you and would prefer you be here as his consort. The requirement is that you are committed to him and stand at his side. There are no orders to follow, no requirements, or challenges. You’ll have a normal life, no worries of death, hate, discrimination, or destruction.” She pins me with an inquisitive eye, and I nod to show I’m still listening. “I, however, see other avenues for your future, the mind of a Creation. A well-raised and undefeated Creation at the table of the Guidance members. A woman, no less, who is a Creation Guidance member.” Her eyes glimmer with delight as the thought works its way through her mind. “It would be larger than life,” she sings, throwing her head back. But the amount of bliss in her smile and joy in her eyes doesn’t seem like it’s for me coming on board, but for something more sinister she has up her sleeve and isn’t revealing.
I’ll have to find out what it is, and why she thinks she must manipulate me to get it. I’m no fool. I clearly read through her enticement, trying to pump up my head with a hope I never wanted and never will want. Sitting at the table of the Guidance members, to show the world the growth of a Creation? There, they would definitely pull my strings. But the way she stares at me, with a wicked coat of desire glimmering in her gray eyes, I believe I’m a different kind of treasure for her.
The glass doors swing open. “Hello, Mother. Hi, Just Kylie,” Carden says, entering the garden area. He sits on the concrete bench with us, between his mother and me. “What does today’s discussion entail?”
“Excuse me, Kylie. I will let you and Carden speak. Come to me if you have any questions.”
“I have questions now,” I state, standing as she rises. “I have a lot of questions.”
“Some of your questions can be presented to Carden. He is prepared to answer almost anything. Carden.” She tilts her head downward and looks in her son’s eyes. “Should you be presented with a question you are unable to answer, make a note of it. Come to me later for the answers and follow up with Kylie thereafter. Soon enough, as a leader of the Guidance, and if she should accept the position as your consort, you will be her first point of contact. This will be a great opportunity to build a rapport with each other and capture each other’s communication styles.” She gives him a motherly smile and departs.
Carden’s face remains even, no smile or implication of the jolliness he usually displays. That is, until his mother is gone.
I snort. “Are you really happy here?”
Nodding, he says, “I have that answer. I am!” Blond eyebrows lift high over his eyes, and his entire face lifts as he smiles bigger. “Do I not look happy?”
I look away from him, to the winding sidewalk that leads further through the garden. “You do.” Small humming birds buzz and fly about, shaking pollen from their wings. “What’d Highrum do with the bees?” We have bees back home that take up this duty, so what’s with the birds? Not to mention, it’s nighttime.
“Oh,” Carden chirps, “the bees. I have this answer as well. Many are allergic to bees in Highrum, but they are a dire necessity to the longevity of the land. My mother also hates the things. So we genetically engineered these birds to take on the task. They only come out at night, and they are quite interesting to watch.” He leans in and whispers, “People also don’t swat them.”
They’ve always played the Maker, first with humans, now with the animals. “So what is a consort? Why is it yours?”
Carden’s eyes light up, and his shoulders sag as he breathes. “I was nervous about your questions, but I seem to have all the answers so far,” he cheers to himself, pumping his balled fist in the air. “Although I have this answer, it was not supposed to be addressed until you decided if you will leave your life as a Creation to live here.”
“What is it?” I push.
“A companion. You may be more familiar with the term husband and wife. Or spouse.”
I fumble over my words and babble, “No,” with a slight shake to my head.
“No? If you consider it, Just Kylie. Why not?”
“Well, for starters,” I shift my weight from one foot to the other, “I don’t know you.”
Interlocking his fingers as he folds his hands, Carden cheers. “This is great news!”
I sneer. “How?”
“You have considered coming to stay. If being my consort is the only thing you’d like to contest, that is something we can work on at a later time. I can work with that. After you’re here, we can go on dates to get to know each other better. This is something they do with Breeders and Dyads that—”
“I know what a date is.” I cut him off.
“Perfect! Then the idea of one shouldn’t make you uncomfortable. We will spend time together. You will spend time with my family. I will make sure you are comfortable before I propose.” He nods quickly, and his words rush from him as he lays out his plan. “You will say yes,” he states matter-of-factly. “I will see to it that you are happy. My only ask is that you understand my position as Leader of the Guidance. My time will never be split. The America must come first, and then I will see to your needs.”
Once he stops talking, the pinch tightening in the back of my neck eases. How many different variations of stupid does this guy take me for? If Luke were here, he’d punch him in the throat without thinking about the consequences. What person plans out another’s life to this extent? Maybe I should punch him in the throat…
“I am sensing your discomfort, Just Kylie.” He grabs my hand. “Hmm,” his brows knit. “You have oddly soft hands. Have you been fighting all your life?”
“I like to use lotion,” I say, leering at him from the corner of my eyes, skeptical of what he’s going to do with my hand.
&nbs
p; “Me too! I love the stuff. It comes in a million scents. Now, tell me, how does my hand feel to you?”
I shrug and look to my left, pause, then look back at him. “Like a hand.”
“Is it soft, rough, odd?”
“Definitely odd.” It’s far too soft, skinny, and tiny. Its weight is equal to mine and the same size. “I don’t exceptionally like its texture or that it’s touching me.”
Carden frowns for a split second before his smile returns. His well-chiseled jawline and perfectly structured nose makes him look like something off a billboard, and he’s far more attractive when he’s not smiling, though not enough for me to be attracted. There’s also something in the way he looks at me. Like his mother, maybe aspiration. But it’s not affection, sexual or even attraction. It’s like the way I ogle at a new weapon when I’m interested in seeing what it can do or how it will feel in my hands.
Carden rubs his thumb over my knuckles, asking, “How would you prefer for my hand to feel, Kylie?”
I turn his hand over in mine and glide my fingers from the bottom of his palm to his fingertips. Turning down the corners of my mouth, I say, “I’d like for your fingertips to be smooth, for the edges of your palms to be rough, calloused, and for the very center of your palm…” I press my finger to the center of his palm where no embellishments change the texture of his skin. “Here, as is, smooth, soft. Palm lines translucent even.” I try not to close my eyes as the memory of the only hold capable of being perfect in my hand surfs through my mind.
In that person’s palm, I’d dance in circles in the middle of it like one of those mesmerizing performers would slowly spin with their arms arched over their heads. And when he’s finished watching me, he could ball me in his fist and tuck me away for later. I pinch my smile in the twist of my lips. Lifting my gaze, the eyes I meet aren’t the purple I expect, and I drop his hand and retract a step.
Carden, smiling ear to ear, asks, “How can I accomplish this?”
Clearing my throat, I swallow the discomfort I brought on myself. “You’d have to be a Creation.” I head for the door.
Carden, too lightly, grabs my hand back. “I think I see where you are going with this. Please, have a seat.” His smile fades, and relief washes over me. “Marcain the Creation.”
“What about him?” I scoff, curling my upper lip at the mention of his name. Or rather to give off the reaction I know I should be feeling toward him.
“Are his palms rough and fingers tips soft?”
I shrug and flick my gaze to the starless sky. “I wouldn’t know.”
Carden sighs. “Okay. Then are you now upset because I don’t? Because I am not like you?”
“I…I just don’t know you all that well,” I lie.
“Can you get to know me?”
The glass doors swing open. Marc and Sean enter the garden, their gazes landing on Carden holding my hand.
I perk up, smiling as I agree with a nod. “Of course. Would it be okay if we finished this conversation later?”
“Of course, Just Kylie. I can give you all the time you need. Seek me out should you have other questions. I will do my best to answer them.”
I laugh once. “Kylie. Not Kylie the Creation or Just Kylie. I can’t be your, uh cortes, um, contact. What is it?”
“Consort,” Marc answers irritably.
“Yes,” I say with a smile and a point. “Thank you. Carden, I cannot be your consort if you cannot properly address me.”
“Yes, Ky-lie,” he enunciates. I would like you to be comfortable. At least consider everything as you sleep tonight. Don’t leave for home without talking to me first.” His smile returns. “You will also be free of this vest.” He frowns and plucks a loose string from the left shoulder strap. “Is hugging inappropriate? I would like to hug you and kiss your cheek.”
I hide my cringe, dreading the contact. But the figures in my periphery witnessing the action make it worth the temporary discomfort, and I don’t want to reveal my discontent to the three of them. I lean forward and lightly press my lips to Carden’s hairless cheek. His face smells of peppermint and cranberries. It’s far too soft and smooth, just like his hands. “Have a good night, Carden,” I say as I draw back.
He blushes, smiling even brighter than his original beam. “Good night, dear Kylie.” He brings my hand to his lips. “I shall impatiently await our meeting again tomorrow.” Finally, he releases my hand, and I drag the back of my hand over my pant leg when he turns to our visitors. “Marcain the Creation,” he says with a greeting nod. “And his twin. Good night to you two.” Carden throws his hand up to the corner of his mouth, blocking the two from overhearing, and mumbles to me, “This Creation isn’t as bright as you are. He can’t get my name right to save his life.” Carden trots pasts Marc and Sean leaving enough space between them to ensure they don’t touch.
Ew! I wipe the back of my hand over my pant leg again. Carden’s presence is sticky. He can be fun, like I learned when we were visiting for the Premier’s celebration, but today I can feel him around me, and I didn’t notice it until he left.
It may be something I’ll have to grow used to though. Should I stay here, I’ll be around him more often.
“I will leave you to it, Marc. I can watch the door.” Sean goes back inside.
I had planned on leaving, but the more the thought settles to return to the room, the more tired I become, and I can’t imagine sleeping. I’d tear the room in two.
Marc and I are left in the night, crowded by the intimate setting of the lights in the ground that shine up through the pillar-like bushes. The engrossing floral aroma of the blooming pink flowers and the fresh breeze only adds to the most engrossing atmosphere.
I take the winding sidewalk, heading deeper into the garden, quickly finding myself lost in a maze. The bushes are so tall it’s impossible to see over them. I’ve hit three dead ends so far and the small, white flowers tickle my nose. I turn left to go back the way I came. The flowers planted on this path are red and pink without a scent. They remind me of Fein for some reason.
I’m still shocked by how Arletta was so easily convinced Fein was mixed and wanted her dead. If the pink Vojin’s information has any merit, and the Guidance is working alongside the Vojin to potentially eliminate Creations, there’s something greater going on here that I won’t be able to work out back in Desert Hills. That letter put a level of responsibility in my hands, and I want to—I need to—deliver.
I’ll have to be here to fix this, maybe change their minds. But I don’t feel comfortable being a consort. Back home, I may not be as useful as a Creations though. Maybe it’s time for a change.
“You no longer want me to stay, Ky?” Marc’s voice comes from somewhere near me. I whip around, left then right. Surrounded by these bushes, I can’t see him. But he doesn’t speak loudly, so he must be close.
“You should leave,” I tell him, continuing through the path to an opening.
“Stop this, Ky,” he says from somewhere behind me.
The path opens to a balcony that looks over a pond on a lower level. In the middle of the pond, a large fountain spouts water from a sea animal statue that’s a large fish or dolphin. The moon adds to the soft lights shining from the floor of the pond. I rest my elbows on the cement railing and prop my chin up on my fists.
There’s a sigh. “Ky. You have to be tired,” Marc says, inches behind me, entering my personal space.
Tired is an understatement. Worn out is more like it. My head still hurts, and it’s been too long since I’ve had a good sleep. I’m at the point I’m willing to get knocked out just to get a couple minutes of rest.
Marc’s arms wrap around my waist as his beard scrapes my neck then cheek. His closeness makes my legs shake. I don’t tremble because I’m nervous or angry but because I’m fighting the relief. With my hands wrapped around the stone railing, I grip it tighter to hold on to my draining confidence and suppress the internal plea to be submissive to Marc’s silent request.
I clear my throat, but when I go to speak, nothing comes out. So I grumble and shuffle out of his hold, tearing myself apart for doing so. I fight it because we need the distance. There’s a lot on my plate, and he doesn’t need to be involved in this.
“You have made your point, Kylie. I get it,” Marc says, taking my diversion as an act of anger. “I’ve said I’m sorry. I’ve told you I’d never turn on you and have proven this ten times over. You are to me what I am to you, remember?” He catches me by my wrist and tugs me back to him. I avoid his eyes, but hear him far too clearly as he tells me, “I am sorry, Ky. I didn’t mean for any of that to happen. They threatened my brother, and so much shit was coming at me at once. I went in with one plan, and everything was going the way it was supposed to. All of us were getting out of there until we didn’t. So I get you have to blame someone, and I’m okay with that someone being me. But blame me for hitting you, for allowing you to get locked up. Don’t blame me for Luke. As much as I wouldn’t want my twin taken away from me, I love you too much to have allowed yours to be taken from you. If I had known, I would’ve done everything to stop it.”
I push my arms around his neck and say, “Okay.” I don’t know if I hug him for me or for him. For us both, maybe?
“Okay?” he asks with an edge of uncertainty in his tone. “So we’re okay?”
Ominous Order Page 9
