Now, she supposed she would keep busy till Grant showed up. She bit her lip in anticipation. Could he still wear his military uniform? Or would that be in bad form? Had they taken it from him when he was discharged? That was perhaps the saddest part of his leaving the military the way he had—that he could no longer dress in the uniform and demand the respect that he clearly deserved for having kept the perimeter of the solar system free from the uninvited. She wrinkled her brow, thinking about that. Though, were they really in danger? Was it just a weird isolationist move? What lay out there, beyond the heliopause? What sort of amazing creatures were in the universe?
She’d thought that she would see Grant come in, but her thoughts were wrapped up in how the Centau leadership had dealt unfairly with him. He was suddenly beside her, where she leaned against a bar stool, casually drinking her champagne.
“This seat taken?” Grant asked, his voice near her ear over the live music.
She laughed. “Hi. What are you drinking?”
“Water. I’m on duty tonight. You are my charge, apparently. Odeon demands it.”
She tilted her head to give him a long, appraising look. A black tuxedo trimmed his lean, tall figure, accentuated by a white dress shirt and a blue bow tie with matching cufflinks that glinted in the muted bar lighting. He sat on the stool next to Holly, placing one shiny black shoe on the foot rest. It was a very old school look, and would have fit at any Analogue Alley gala. She took a deep breath, clearing her thoughts.
“That’s no fun,” she said, in response to his no drink answer.
“Agreed. But I don’t take duty lightly, ever. And I agree with Odeon. You’ve got too many targets on you to count and I don’t see how this one would be any different.”
“Fine,” she said, trying to not pout. “So, just before you showed up, I was thinking about your military career. When will you tell me the sort of things you saw out there?”
“Who gave you that drink?” Grant asked, suddenly zeroing in on her glass of champagne.
“Torden, don’t worry. I haven’t let it out of my sight.”
He studied her face, a smile dancing at the edges of his lips. “Brilliant.”
“There’s something you should know, Iain,” Holly said, feeling something withering in her chest. She made sure her mic was muted and asked Grant to make sure his was also muted. He pulled the communicator from his pocket and showed her that it was.
“What is it?” he returned his gaze to hers from scanning the growing crowd of revelers.
“Odeon is like the brother I never had. He’s loyal. He’s kind. I admire him, and find him adorable in many ways. He always has my back,” Holly explained.
“Except, kind of that once,” Grant pointed out, clearly irritated about that. Which surprised her.
“That was my fault. I can’t blame someone else when I neglect to be aware of the danger or fail to take care of myself,” Holly said, with a soft laugh.
Grant’s eyes began to glimmer like he knew where she was going with her lengthy explanation.
“What is it, Holly?” he asked again.
“I don’t love being coddled. His concern for my safety sometimes begins to feel—how do I say this without sounding like a royal bitch? Hmm. Sometimes it suffocates me. But I know it comes from a good place within him.”
“And you don’t want me to—?”
“Treat me the way Odeon does.”
“Yes, I can see that.”
“I can take care of myself. I have. I did before you or Odeon or Shiro appeared in my life. I mean,” she shrugged one shoulder, “I ended up in prison, wrongfully, yes, so I’m not completely perfect at it. But I’ve done a decent job of it, to say the least.”
“I have noticed that about you. You’re strong. You don’t back away from hard things. You would have made a good soldier.”
“Thank you,” she said, considering it a high compliment coming from Iain. “You’re here tonight, partially to make Odeon feel OK about leaving me behind. You know how it is to try to make a team happy. But, now that we’re here, well,” she hesitated, nearly saying that they should act like a couple. As part of their cover, of course.
“Let’s have a good time?” he said, standing up and moving in front of her.
“That. Yes,” she shrugged, and smiled. “I’d call it fun, but yes, same idea.” She took his proffered hand.
“Fun, yes. It’s not a word I use often,” he admitted, leading her out into the crowd, weaving through the tall cocktail tables and low couches surrounding knee-high, parabola-shaped coffee tables. The live band continued to play music, not too loud though, a sensible, respectable volume—the elite of the City of Jade Spires had reputations to consider. Raves weren’t the going social currency. Rather, music just below a threshold that still allowed conversations to continue and at which it was still possible to dance slowly to, should it move them into motion. Grant stopped just where the crowd was swaying together on the floor, paired off in couples as the Yasoan band on stage strummed and plucked their instruments to the crooning of a male singer.
“We don’t have to dance,” Holly said, suddenly realizing that perhaps that was his intention.
“Why not?” Grant asked. “You don’t like to dance?”
“That’s not it,” Holly said. She was suddenly concerned with where Charly was. Was their mark in the club yet? She didn’t want to fall prey too much to the Siren song or the enchantment of Grant dressed up and the possibility of dancing with him.
“I dance. Military functions included parties not too different from this one.”
“Grant, will you dance with me?” Holly said, seeing that their mark was on the dance floor and realizing that balking at it could be seen a confession that she wasn’t confident on the dance floor.
He blinked, then grinned. “Oh now you think that I want to dance?”
“Don’t you?”
He hesitated. “I know you don’t want me to coddle you or worry. But I do want to be alert. Not worried, no, but I am torn between being alert, and letting go and having a good time.”
“Is there anywhere safer here, tonight, than in your arms?”
A flash of something rippled through his eyes. Holly saw it, and she felt perhaps the same thing explode in her heart.
On the dance floor, on the dance floor! “On the dance floor, that is.”
“Of course. No, you’re right. Let’s do it.” He turned to her and took her hand in his, sliding the other hand along her waist. He led her in the steps and she was surprised to sense that he did know how to dance, how to move with the rhythm the musicians guided the crowd with. His extended hand swallowed hers and with the position of his other hand on the small of her back, he guided her using gentle pressure from his fingers. Her skin burned where he touched her. Music and her pulse roared in her ears. She’d been close to him before—slept next to him in a bed, stood next to him as he demonstrated his antique prized possessions to her, rescued hundreds of kids with the aid of his expertise, counted inventory with him, guided a zeppelin back on course next to him, for the love of Ixion fought beside him.
And this was just another thing like all that. Wasn’t it?
No. This is so much more. She wanted much more with him. Much, much more. She wanted to see the edge of the heliopause with him. To hear about his exploits out on the frontier of the Yol system. Maybe see a non-humanoid sentient species with him.
Oh my god.
She wanted him so badly.
“Hey kids,” Charly said, smiling, suddenly beside them.
Holly jumped slightly. She’d been staring into Grant’s eyes, unaware of the entire room around her. If Charly hadn’t disrupted the moment, Holly might have tried to kiss him. His eyes were a drug.
Charly laughed and took Holly’s hand in one hand and Grant’s in the other. “We got stuff happening. You’re needed. Turn your mics on. You got work to do.”
27
Holly came to slowly. Her head throbbed. H
er body was sore, everywhere, though she didn’t remember why. Had she drank too much? She could hear the sound of water rushing. Or—waves crashing on a shore. She inhaled. The air was salty.
She opened her eyes. There was a blanket on her. Her eyes darted from coffee table to window to the rug on the floor. As she took in her surroundings, she recalled the last thing that happened—a woman clocked her in the head.
Then why was she laying on a sofa in what appeared to be a living room? That did not connect with how she’d come to be there. She wasn’t tied up, either. Nothing made sense. The place was friendly and inviting. A fire was currently burning behind a grate in the wall. There were two other armchairs arranged around the sofa where Holly was lying. A kitchen just off the room was well appointed with appliances, included a kasé brewer and a coffee brewer. She was in someone’s home. She sat up, hearing voices approaching. She looked down at her body in dismay, noticing that she was still in the impractical dress she’d worn to the soiree.
The voices got closer. She furrowed her brow, wondering why in the hell she’d been knocked out and brought to a fucking house. It didn’t make sense. Who would do that? If she was a threat to the Shadow Coalition—she remembered the woman’s tattoo—why didn’t they just kill her or torture her. That’s what they’d been attempting to do all this time. Why change their M.O.?
Briefly she considered hiding or pretending to be asleep, as the voices got closer, approaching from a hallway just off the room. She didn’t have any of her weapons, so she was at their mercy anyway. However, anything could be a weapon, if push came to shove. Time ran out to hide, so she sat on the couch, waiting, the blanket still covering her legs. Whoever took her obviously didn’t consider her a threat or else she’d be tied up. That was insulting enough. So, this person would see her there, sitting on the couch in an unthreatening way. She would lure them into a false sense of security, and then she’d use the lamp on the nearby end table as a weapon. She’d get some answers first. Then make her move, and run.
“Holly, dear, you’re awake,” a very familiar voice said.
“Dad?”
Her father sauntered into the room, wearing cream colored linens and a hat, looking like an ad for an expensive liquor. He sat down in an armchair. A Centau woman came into the room with him. She was tall and stately and possibly more beautiful than Trip Taurus. “It’s been ages,” her father said, smiling, his white teeth brilliant against his tanned skin. Holly hadn’t seen him in ages, it was true.
“Yes, it has,” Holly responded, bitterly. He hadn’t come to her trial and that still bothered her. “Missed you at my trial.”
He waved a hand, dismissing her concern, something he’d always done—correcting her about what she thought or felt. She didn’t hold him against him, adults were like that to kids, quite often. But it bothered her once she knew her own mind. He shrugged. “I’m sorry about that. But I knew you were strong. Didn’t need me there, interfering.”
“Yes, I’m sure your interference was what you were worried about. Not the publicity or how it might have reflected on you. Former cop’s daughter kills her husband.”
“I’m glad you did it.”
Holly blinked. “Glad I killed Grafton?”
“I trust you, Holly. And I wanted to kill him myself, quite often. He was sleek. Charismatic. He hid a temper. And I know that he took it home to you, that temper.”
“Excuse me, who is this woman?” Holly asked, suddenly realizing they were discussing some quite personal stuff in front of a stranger. “I’m Holly. And you are?”
“Sonal,” she answered in a deep, powerful voice.
Holly waited for her to say something more, anything more. When she didn’t, Holly sat back. “OK, Sonal. Lovely to meet you.” She knew the Centau expected her to be satisfied with that answer, and so she pressed further, for more information. “And what do you do around here? Servant?” That would upset both Sonal and her father. She felt exactly like a petulant child.
George simply laughed, and Sonal looked at him, a bemused expression smudging her Centau features. “She’s my second in command. And well, since your mother left, a bit more than that.”
Holly started. The comfort of her father’s presence had caught her off guard. She’d drifted into complacency, feeling safe and secure in some remainder from her childhood, despite the fact that she’d been kidnapped and brought to his home on what she knew to be Itzcap. The crashing waves, the scent of the sea, the open windows, and the sunlight and breeze streaming in through the open windows, all pointed to that location.
“What the fuck, Dad. Why did you have me kidnapped?”
“Oh Holly, don’t resort to black and white thinking. We both know that it doesn’t work. I spent years on the police force trying to apply it to situations that had no business having it applied to them.”
She stood up and paced around the couch. Her feet were bare on the cold tile and she wished she wasn’t in a goddamn dress. It would make escape ridiculous, but she wouldn’t let that stop her. “I was expecting the Heart to be something unexpected. A corrupt Centau like Sonal, or a young woman my age, perhaps. But not my own fucking father.”
“I didn’t raise you to talk like that,” George said. “I don’t like it in my ranks and I certainly don’t love it spilling from the mouth of my daughter.”
“You tried to have me killed, Dad. A bunch of fucking times. I’m only alive because I outwitted and outfought your stupid henchmen. And thousands of kids, Dad? Working as your slaves. I mean what in the hell?” She was standing behind the sofa, leaning over the back, jabbing her finger at him. The words were just spilling from her mouth.
“Weren’t you glad I made you take all those self-defense courses?” He said with a smile. He took off his Panama hat and twirled it in his hands. One leg was crossed casually. Beneath the hat his graying hair curled with a small amount of perspiration.
“Ixion’s ghost, Dad.”
“Those weren’t my orders, ever. But you’ve been the biggest pain in my ass now for months, Holly.”
“Likewise.”
“That said, I’m pretty damn proud of you.”
Her facade cracked a little and some light seemed to spill in. “For what?”
“For single-handedly bringing down the Shadow Coalition. My coalition, basically. My organization.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Of course I’m mad. You’ve destroyed my revenue stream.”
“But you were enslaving children,” Holly said, plainly, almost like she was yelling at a child. She felt like she was back in school, trying to get a stubborn kid to just listen.
“The Centau teach kids to fly at similar ages,” George said, motioning to Sonal. She nodded slowly, appearing stately even as she relaxed in an armchair next to George.
“It’s not the same thing,” Holly said. “Their family units are completely different as well. We can’t apply Centau values to humans, as much as I would love to in certain circumstances.”
“Well, that’s how morals are, Holly. We apply rationales to our actions. Context matters. There are too many variables for clean answers, and I know you know this, because I taught you these ideas as a child.”
“Yeah, but mom was also there giving me structure and boundaries and a damn backbone to say no when things were clearly wrong. Like enslaving children.”
“That is why she left, eventually.”
“Good for her,” Holly watched him for his reaction to what she said next. “Does she know you tried to have me killed multiple times?”
George put his hat back on. “Wasn’t me, Holly. I swear it. It was the Hands.”
Holly waved a hand at the woman next to him. “Sonal is a Hand.”
“She’s a head Hand, and my number two.”
“Did Sonal gave orders to kill me?”
“No, not at all. The Hands who did that are . . . Indisposed.”
“You killed them.”
“No, no. I didn’t.
”
“You had someone else kill them,” Holly sighed, annoyed with the hair-splitting.
“How many people have you killed?” Her father asked quietly.
Holly could see that he was beginning to get annoyed with the conversation. It was how their long discussions would go when she was younger—she never stopped probing and he would eventually run out of answers that satisfied both of them. He stood up.
“You’re annoyed. I understand that. The revelation will take some getting used to. But I have faith that you can get through it in time. When that happens, we can have some discussions about what happens next.”
“What happens next? Are you going to keep me prisoner here, Dad? Really?”
He pursed his lips. “I still haven’t decided. You know I’m the Heart. There are only two choices with that—either I stop being the Heart, or you join me.”
“Never in a million years. I will never join you, Dad. If you keep being the Heart, I’ll stay your biggest enemy.”
He frowned. “Let me show you to your room, Holly. Sonal and I also bought you some clothes while you were sleeping.”
“While I was knocked out,” Holly muttered, loud enough for George to hear. She followed him and Sonal through the hallways of the large cliff-side house. “This is a beautiful location. I guess when you’re the center of a mad shadow organization, you need a place that fits the role.”
“I agree. Glad you see it that way. It’s paid for. So if you decide to join me, it’ll be yours.”
“I’ll never join you,” Holly said.
They passed through the hallway and came to a room with a view of the ocean. It was small, but had comfortable furnishings. There were some shirts, trousers, and a jacket on the bed.
“Here you go. Bathroom there. Food is down the hall where we just came from. Oh and we took out your earpiece and the communicator.”
“That’s kind of a violation, Dad,” Holly said. Not to mention everything else. “I don’t appreciate it.”
“You’re right. But we can’t have your crew tracking you,” he said. “So we’ll just leave so you can change and get used to the idea of this whole thing. It’s a bit hairy, but I know you’ll manage.”
The Colossus Collection Page 85
