by L. R. W. Lee
The woman raises a hand to us, then knocks timidly on a pine door. “Yes.” A distinct Chinese accent accompanies the reply, in English.
“Your guests are here,” the woman says, then opens the door and extends an open palm for us to enter.
Li, dressed in a casual, long sleeved, black sweater that matches his hair, rises from behind a pine desk and makes his way toward us with outstretched hand—he’s younger than I expect. The gray-haired professor pops up like a gopher from one of the pair of chairs before the desk and nods to Harpoc, eyeing me.
“Thank you for coming, Harpocrates.”
I’ve never heard anyone call Harpoc that, but it seems correct based upon Harpoc’s reaction, taking Li’s hand and shaking it.
“Harpocrates, this is Professor Emery Terrason.”
The professor steps clear of the chairs. “Good to meet you, Harpocrates.”
A regular, good old boys club, it seems. Just how many secrets has Harpoc sealed for this guy?
“This is Pell,” Harpoc says, not elaborating.
Our host frowns and doesn’t bother extending a hand. The professor mimics, not knowing me from Adam.
Arrogant bastards.
“Pell can wait outside if her presence will be a problem,” Harpoc offers.
I only barely keep my mouth shut, incensed by the indignity.
“Please,” Li says, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
I paste on a fake smile of my own and raise a hand. “No need to tell me twice. I’ll find something to keep me out of trouble.”
I close the door behind me, but the crack between the door and the floor is wide enough to still hear “the boys” exchanging pleasantries.
A family room with flat screen TV extends behind me, windows that overlook the lake line one wall, but the natural beauty can’t entice me, not when a secret is being sealed, despite being kicked out.
Who knows where that woman went, but she’s not here, so I slump to the floor away from the door—I don’t want to cast a shadow that blows my cover—and have a listen.
“Please, have a seat,” Li says. “Care for a drink?”
“No, thank you. Let’s get down to business,” Harpoc replies.
“Very well,” Li says, then there’s rustling like the trio are taking their seats.
“Emery and I have come to an agreement,” Li says.
Here it comes. Dread fills my stomach.
But the next sounds I hear sound kind of like the muffled voices of the parents on Charlie Brown because I can’t make out a word they’re saying.
I pull my hair away from my ears, but it doesn’t help and I furrow my brow. What just happened?
Secret magic. It’s got to be, because Li was about to say what this agreement they’ve come to is.
My mind spins, thinking through all I’ve learned about what secret magic does, and I remember Harpoc saying that for some reason my ring blocks it.
If secret magic’s blocking me from listening in on a secret being sealed, might my ring override it? It might block out the whole conversation, but what have I got to lose? I can’t understand a thing at the moment.
I scrounge in my pocket and extract my ring, then slip it on.
“Here you are, twenty percent,” Li says, and the sound of perforated paper being ripped from a binding reaches me. “Drawn on our Swiss account, like always.”
Score! I’m in, thanks to my ring. I smile, admiring the thing for the first time since its duplicity was exposed.
I press my head closer to the crack. The door may leave a mark on my forehead, but who cares because I catch Li hand Harpoc a check.
From the way Harpoc’s legs as well as the tails of his duster shift below his chair, I assume he’s just tucked it in his breast pocket.
Li tears a second check from his checkbook and hands it to the professor. “And five percent, as agreed.”
“Paper, if you please,” Harpoc says.
Li hands him a piece of paper, and he places it on the desk, then begins dictating. “It is hereby agreed that from this day forth, The People’s Data, and by extension, The People’s Republic of China, will have unfettered access to all data, personal or other, that as a result of recent software updates, is collected by Professor Terrason’s mobile data scraping technology, to use as The People’s Data sees fit, without penalty or threat of prosecution, despite such access going against the Corrupt Organizations Act.”
My mouth drops open despite it sounding like mumbo jumbo, because it’s not to me. I understand perfectly. Professor Terrason has just given China unlimited access to every call, every email, every web search, every shred of American information transmitted via mobile device because his data scraping technology has been incorporated by all the big tech companies, thanks to the US government’s anti-terrorism efforts—I remember reading about it a couple years ago and, at the time, worrying about privacy.
A shiver rocks my body. Here I’ve been worried that the professor’s selling them his data scraping technology. Nope, why go to all the trouble of developing an application when the prize is readily available.
“Furthermore,” Harpoc continues, “the involvement of all parties to this agreement, shall forever go undetected.”
Chapter Twenty-One
I can’t let this happen. I can’t.
My heart starts to race as I bolt up.
I have to stop them from giving away mine and every other American’s information, and with it completely shattering any sense of privacy we hold dear; ain’t no way I want China acting like big brother. It’s none of their damn business what I do or say.
I grab for the door handle, and nearly face plant into the pine door when it doesn’t open like I expect.
I grab the handle with both hands but it won’t budge.
What is wrong with this thing?
I can’t slam or kick the door because I don’t want to draw the attention of the lady who walked us back—yeah, that’d go over about as well as a lead balloon, especially explaining what I’m doing trying to get into her boss’s office.
So I do the only thing I can… exhale heavily, despite frustration still coursing through my veins.
If you can’t stop it, maybe you can learn something, Pell.
I’ve got no other way to redeem this opportunity, so might as well.
I slump back down to the floor and assume my previous position, eye on the goings on.
Harpoc’s standing, turned slightly toward me. I give him credit for helping me to at least see.
Thank you, Harpoc.
But I barely hold back a gasp when Harpoc waves a hand and a Swiss army knife appears in it.
Is that secret magic, too? Conjuring something out of nothing?
My breathing labors. This stuff flows through my veins.
The professor’s head jerks back, and he gives Harpoc a long look.
Ha, you ain’t seen nothing yet, ya weasel.
“Extend a hand,” Harpoc tells both the sleazes, which they do.
Terrason looks a little pale.
Serves ya right, douche bag.
Harpoc slices a finger, from each of them.
Ew….
“One drop there.” Harpoc points.
While I can’t see the top of the desk, I presume it’s the paper he wrote the secret on.
Harpoc follows suit, slicing his own appendage and adding a drop of blood.
I’m not surprised when a swirl of shadows erupts, starting out light but growing nearly black before long. It encompasses “the guys” as well as the desk and chairs.
I chuckle. Eat it up, Terrason, ya rookie.
Like I’m one to talk.
The swirling cloud soon dissipates, and when it does the professor wipes his brow with a shaky hand.
You deserve everything you’re getting. Money hungry turncoat.
I shake my head. To think people on campus practically worshipped him.
Li leans forward and picks up the paper,
then smiles when he finishes reading it. “Thank you, Harpocrates. I appreciate your services.”
I can tell from Harpoc’s clenched jaw that he abhors being treated like some servant, but he nods.
“And, Professor, I look forward to doing business with you.” Li’s unrepentant, smiling broadly, despite Terrason looking less than comfortable, shifting in his chair.
Yeah, have a few second thoughts, traitor. You just did a deal with the devil himself.
Li’s smug attitude makes my revulsion all the greater.
Why I oughta, Pow, right in the kisser. Moe’s classic line from The Three Stooges, plays in my head.
I really would love to knock Li in the kisser and tell all of Earth what these two did. Geez, destroying any concept of privacy with no one except the Chinese the wiser. It makes my blood boil just thinking about it.
But as much as that kills me, I swore to Harpoc that I wouldn’t divulge anything I learned about Secrets. The rose pin on my lapel is the seal of my pledge.
With my ring, I might well be able to block secret magic from retaliating, but I gave Harpoc my word, and while I may not have much, I have that, and my honor. And I refuse to give either up.
Li hands the paper back to Harpoc, and it vanishes an instant later.
The evil professor’s mouth drops open.
“It has been sent to safekeeping.” Harpoc adjusts a lapel of his duster, clearly ready to get out of there.
“Nothing will ever be mentioned… about this,” the professor confirms, unease written on his face.
“Not unless one of you breaks your silence.” Harpoc raises an eyebrow.
Terrason clears his throat. “Thank you.”
“If that’s all, I’ll find my companion and we’ll be on our way.” Harpoc turns before either sleaze has a chance to respond, and heads for the door, his duster’s tails flaring.
I scramble up. He’ll know I listened in if I don’t move. All three of them will.
I dash for the nearest of the three sofas in the spacious family room and succeed in wrenching my knee on the coffee table in front of it as I plunk down, but I’ve no time to indulge my pain.
I grab a magazine and throw it open as Harpoc strides from the office.
I paste on my fake smile, my knee killing me, as I slowly turn my head as if I’ve been engrossed in some article and just now realize he’s reappeared.
A corner of Harpoc’s mouth hitches as he stops. “Ready?”
I place the magazine back on the table, then rise, wanting to hobble, but not willing to give up my cover.
“Taken to reading upside down I see,” he whispers as I reach him.
Ah! Busted.
I hum a non-response, as I stride beside him back down the hall, my knee throbbing. It only makes his smile grow.
“You also have a line on your forehead,” he adds under his breath, as he waves off the lady and we head out the back door. “It looks strangely like the bottom of a door. Now, why would that be?”
The door closes behind us with a thought, and I shrug.
Harpoc snorts, then draws me close. “Ring.”
“Thank you.” I slide it off and slip it in the pocket of my long coat, just before darkness gobbles us up.
Like the last time, my stomach doesn’t complain as Harpoc’s shadows speed us along for what feels like a good ten minutes.
As soon as we get back, I have a few questions I want to ask him, about what I saw.
But the inside of Harpoc’s ginormous closet comes into view as we set down and I furrow my brow.
“Go change into something more comfortable.” Harpoc wags his brows.
“Negligee at noon?” I wag mine back.
He laughs. “I’m taking you somewhere to train.”
“I have a few questions about sealing secrets.”
He bobs his head, removing his duster and tossing it on top of the island of drawers in the middle. “Let’s discuss while you train.”
“Will we be inside or out?”
Secret magic unbuttons his leather vest and gray shirt simultaneously, and I can’t help admiring his tone, olive-skinned chest as he steps clear.
He smiles, knowing he’s distracting me. “We’ll be outdoors.”
His pants unzip.
My cheeks warm, and I make a beeline out the door and into my own cavernous closet, exhaling loudly.
It seems Portia knew my plans before me, because a pair of jeans along with a long-sleeved gray T-shirt and my favorite navy hoodie—the one with “Archeologist - one crackpot digging up another cracked pot” on the front, that Harpoc forwarded here—are laid out on the top of the island of drawers in the middle of my closet, along with a pair of white sneakers that look brand new.
I hang up my long coat because, unlike Harpoc, I doubt Portia’s here to clean up after me. It takes a while to remove my boots what with the laces all the way to my knees, but I’ve just shed them when Harpoc ambles in.
He’s dressed in a gray T-shirt, black jeans, and a waist-length, dull-black-leather jacket with a bunch of shiny contrasting black straps.
I smile, taking in every delicious inch of him. “I thought you only wore dusters.”
He chuckles as he stuffs his thumbs in his pockets. The three rings he wears on each hand click against each other as he leans against one of the dividers between the hanging racks, crossing his ankles.
My stomach goes hard as I realize he’s planning on staying while I change, at least judging by the heat smoldering in his beautiful gold and silver eyes. So “body image” training is included in his curriculum. Great, just great.
Note to self: Be quick about changing in the future.
I need to start wearing bras, that’s all there is to it.
Right, like I really need one. I laugh to myself.
Pell… my inner embrace-his-help-with-your-body-image minion’s tone rises.
I bite my lip, should I just ask him to leave?
You can do this, Pell.
Harpoc’s free with his body, I’ve personally experienced it—boy, have I—but I’m not him. He’s a guy and drips confidence. Me, I want desperately to turn away, to cover, and my heart picks up pace.
Do it, Pell. You know he thinks you’re beautiful.
I do, but I hold my breath all the same.
Can I really do this?
I own the title “one tough bitch,” I remind myself.
You do, Pell.
I’m proud of it. I can’t let Harpoc and his “training” beat me.
I steel my resolve and plant my feet firmly—ain’t no way I’m doing this unless I do—before I unbutton the first of seven buttons.
But fear and doubts nibble at my resolve by the time I undo the last one.
I should just ask him to leave.
You can do it, Pell.
Harpoc doesn’t so much as flinch. His expression remains warm, like he somehow understands the struggle I’m going through.
I swallow, hard.
I can do this.
Yes, you can, Pell. You have a beautiful body.
I ease the blouse off one shoulder, then the other, leaving me bare before him as I pull off the sleeves.
My heart’s beating a hundred miles an hour as his gaze brushes over me.
“You’re exquisite, Pell,” he says. Passion fills his eyes.
This is the most “touching” non-touch I’ve ever experienced.
I fist the blouse in a hand, then slowly step to the center island, pretending everything’s fine.
Of course everything’s fine. Don’t mind me while I have a heart attack.
I set the blouse down, then pick up the T-shirt and pull it over my head. It takes every ounce of control I possess to do so at a natural pace.
I exhale, albeit as softly as I can manage, once my shirt’s in place—because, of course, everything’s hunky dory—and pull my hair through. A T-shirt’s never felt so safe.
Unzipping my slacks and pulling them off sends another
thrill through me, because I have those magenta undies on underneath, lacy ones—he seems to favor those. I pull the jeans on and zip up in no time leaving me just my hoodie and footwear to manage.
“You did well. You should be proud of yourself, Pell,” he says as he leads me from my closet a couple minutes later.
When I don’t reply, he stops at the top step in the living room and turns toward me, meeting my gaze. “You truly have a beautiful body.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek. “I’m proud of you for being willing to work on how you feel about it.”
I can only nod as I pick at the band at the end of my braid.
What else will training involve today?
Chapter Twenty-Two
I finger my ring. Things just don’t add up.
“Why couldn’t I open that door at Mister Li’s mansion?”
He promised we’d talk about this morning while I’m training, and clearly we already started based upon that “body image” session in my closet.
We soar past a mountain off to the right, me in his arms holding the backpack with our supplies under my elbows. It’s been maybe fifteen minutes and two floating islands since he sprouted wings and took off from the outdoor patio.
He glances down at me but doesn’t say anything.
“You said my ring blocks secret magic.”
“Yes. You proved it to yourself at Li’s when you could suddenly hear the conversation again, after secret magic muted it.” He gives me a long look.
Do di do. Who? Little old me?
Harpoc keeps staring at me.
I roll my eyes. “Okay fine. Busted.”
We lurch upward when Harpoc gives his wings a strong downbeat.
“How’d you know?”
A corner of his mouth hitches. “I would expect nothing less from a smart little harpy.”
I snicker and play with a string of my hoodie.
“You know enough about secret magic as well as your ring to figure it out. And you were wearing your ring when I came out of that meeting.”
