Anew: Book Two: Hunted (22 page)

“My dance instructor. Sergei thinks I should be a
professional ballerina. Risking an injury for anything less than a grand jeté
is definitely on his ‘nyet’ list.”

“That explains it. You’ve got that whole ‘float like a
butterfly, sting like a bee’ thing going for you.” She tosses aside my second
glove and sits down on the bench beside me. With a knowing glance, she asks,
“So what does Ian think of this Russian guy?”

“I’m not sure…” Actually, I am, I just don’t want to admit
it. “They’re probably not destined to be best buddies.”

Daphne laughs. “Hey, that’s okay. A little jealousy is cool
so long as he knows how you feel about him.”

Does he? Ian and I have talked more in the last few days
than ever before but there’s still a great deal we have to learn about each
other. That isn’t helped by my inability to open up to him. I’m only just
realizing how much the memories of my time in the gestation chamber have shaped
who I am. How long will I go on concealing them from him?

Ten rounds with the punching bag have been a real bonding
exercise. They’ve also loosened my tongue. “I’m not sure I know how I feel.”

My new friend shakes her head. “More like you’re too scared
to admit it. I was the same way at first. Whatever else love is, it’s frigging
terrifying. But ask yourself, do you miss him if you’re apart like five
minutes?”

Slowly, I nod.

“Do you want to jump his bones every time you see him?”

I’m not totally sure what that means but I think I get the
drift. Flushing a little, I nod.“Yes.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do to keep him safe?”

“Nothing but he won’t let me. He’s bound and determined to
do things his own way no matter what that costs him.”

She nods. “Just like Gab. And that has you tied up in knots,
wound so tight you can hardly breathe? You feel more vulnerable than you ever
imagined being and worse yet, you can’t do anything about it. You’re riding a
pendulum, swinging between crazy-mad happiness and gut-wrenching dread. Sound
familiar?”

I look up, meeting her sympathetic gaze, and nod. She’s
described my current state of mind perfectly. “You’re saying love sucks?”

Daphne sighs. “It’s not all blue birds of happiness and
heart-shaped candy boxes, that’s for sure. Love is sweaty and hard and yeah,
sometimes it hurts a bitch. But it’s also what makes us human. So be glad
you’ve fallen victim to it. There are people out there who aren’t capable of
caring about anything except themselves and they are just plain dangerous.”

Is she right? Is the way I feel about Ian proof that I am in
every way human? Even more so than some of the naturally born?

“With all the stuff they can fix these days,” Daphne goes
on, “you’d think they’d find a way to make people care about each other. But if
that happened, the folks with more power than heart would never get away with
what they do.”

I think of Davos. A shiver of foreboding runs through me.
“People who don’t care about others will sacrifice anyone they have to in order
to win.”

“True enough,” Daphne says. She seems undaunted. “But the
people who do care will sacrifice themselves. The bad guys totally don’t get
that. They never see it coming. Which is why in the end, they’ll lose.”

I want to believe her. Everything in me cries out to do so.
But at the same time, I’m terrified that if she is right, Ian could be among
those who make the ultimate sacrifice. At that thought, something inside me
feels as though it is cracking wide open the way I used to long for the walls
of the gestation chamber to do. I double over on the bench, clutching myself,
barely hearing the reassuring sounds Daphne makes as she tries to comfort me.

All I can think of is that she’s right--love is hard, love
hurts. But it makes us--it makes me-- human. I love Ian--completely and
unconditionally. With that realization, all my doubts about myself that have
lingered from the moment I awoke fall away. In their place is fierce joy that
makes me want to shout out loud,
I love Ian Slade!
But the world doesn’t
need to hear that, he does. Before he makes any decisions that could turn my
worst fears for him into reality.

Ian

I
leave the council
meeting two hours later feeling like I need a shower. Instead, I call Edward.
We’d spoken briefly as I was leaving Pinnacle House, long enough for me to tell
him what Amelia had remembered about Davos and that I was on my way to speak with
the Council.

“Watch yourself,” he warned. “They’re the most lowlife,
self-serving assholes that I’ve ever come across.”

“Yeah, but they give great media. What else really matters?”

“An ounce of decency?” he suggested.

“That’s crazy talk,” I said with a laugh but I’m not so
amused now.

The city is in the final frenzy of preparations for Carnival
as I leave the building. Sidestepping a conga line of inebriated clowns who
have gotten an early start and are wending their way up the avenue, I call
Edward again.

 “I can’t figure out what I was doing there,” I say.
“All the assholes did was play to the cameras. After the first hundred or so
sound bites, I think I dozed off.”

“They didn’t ask you anything?”

“Yeah, finally. They wanted to know what I’d seen at the
Crystal Palace and what I thought about it. I saw a building blow up. I think
it shouldn’t have. End of story.”

“What about the scavengers?” Edward asks. “Did they come
up?”

“Just at the end. They wanted to know how I thought they
should be handled. I figured since I’d hauled ass to sit in a damn
uncomfortable chair at an otherwise empty witness table for absolutely no good
reason, I’d get in a few strokes of my own.”

“What did you say?” Edward sounds a little apprehensive but
then he’s known me a long time.

I savor the memory. “Just that it was tough to see how the
scavengers could have been involved. Easy to scapegoat them but it would be
wiser to avoid a rush to judgment. A violent over-reaction on the part of the
government against the poorest and most vulnerable citizens would only make the
situation worse.”

He can’t help it, he laughs. “Jeez, buddy, you seriously
called the scavengers ‘citizens’? Why not just set off a bomb in the council
chamber and be done with it?”

I recall the red-faced sputtering that followed and grin.
“Because this was more fun. Besides, it’s true. The government can strip
benefits from people but they can’t change the fact of where someone was born
or the inherent rights that go with that. Anyway, once they settled back down, I
reminded them that violence doesn’t serve anyone’s interest and that I, for
one, have a deep abhorrence of it. So much so that I’d hate to see a situation
develop where private forces had to intervene.”

“Let me guess,” Edward says when he stops chuckling. “They
were shitting in their pants at the thought of you calling out your troops to
protect scavengers.”

“Pretty much. They changed the subject in a hurry and we
wrapped up not too long after that. Needless to say, I never saw any reason to
bring up Davos.”

“I understand but I still wish that you’d been able to.” He
pauses for a moment, then adds, “The timing on this isn’t ideal. Before you put
anything in motion, we need to talk.”

What the hell? Does he really not get the danger to his
sister? My voice turns cold. “If you’re planning on telling me why I shouldn’t
go after him, don’t bother. Amelia’s already done that. While she’s so
concerned about everyone else’s safety, someone’s got to look after hers. I
figured that you’d want in on that job but if I was wrong--”

“You weren’t,” Edward responds. I hear the edge of his
anger. “She’s my sister. Of course I want to protect her. I have no problem
whatsoever with eliminating Davos. All I’m saying is that it would have been
better if this was coming to a head some time from now. But it is what it is
and we have to deal with that. Get this wrong and a lot of innocents could die.
However, there are ways to prevent that.”

Somewhat mollified, not to mention curious why Edward thinks
that any time would be better for an armed conflict to break out in the city, I
ask, “What do you have in mind?”

He doesn’t hesitate. Listening to him, I’m struck by the
thought that he’s not speaking theoretically. He’s got a fully formulated
strategy already figured out and ready to go.

 “Advance warning could save a lot of lives,” he says.
“Just a few words in the right ears so that if fighting breaks out, people
don’t get caught up in it. The scavengers have already gone deep and they’ll
stay that way until this is over. But the workers are another story. Unless
they know not to, they’ll show up for their jobs like they always do. That
means they could get caught in a crossfire.”

“You’re really betting that the Council will call out the
MPS or bring in some mercenary force if I kill Davos?”

“They aren’t the sharpest nails in the box but they can
recognize an existential threat to them when they see it. They won’t hesitate
to use the workers as human shields if it comes to that. You want their lives
on your conscience?”

“No, of course I don’t. But you start warning people and
Davos will hear about it. With the element of surprise, I can end this quickly
and deploy enough forces throughout the city to stop the Council from so much
as farting. Without it, all bets are off.”

“I know who to talk to,” Edward insists. “If the right
people pass the word to stay home, the workers will do it, no questions asked.”

Slowly, I say, “I didn’t realize there was that kind of
leadership among the workers.”

“It’s developed recently.” He doesn’t offer any more details
but he does add, “Given time, a lot could change around here for the better.
But nothing good can happen while people are being killed.”

He’s got a point but I need to think about what all this
means. Gab is sure that Edward is in contact with the scavengers. Now he’s
telling me that he’s also got a pipeline into the workers. Very well connected
man, our Edward. I’ve got to wonder what he’s planning.

However, that can wait. “What about the residents?” I ask.
“You’re not losing any sleep over what happens to them?”

“Let’s be clear,” he says. “I don’t want to see anyone
killed except Davos. If there was a way to keep the residents out of this, I’d
grab it. But at least half of them, probably more, would waste no time running
to the Council or to Davos himself at the first hint of a threat to their
precious status quo. Besides, Carnival starts tonight. There really would have
to be bombs going off to keep them from that.”

“I know a few who won’t be attending,” I say, “starting with
Amelia and including my mother and sister. I assume you’ll warn your
grandmother as well.”

“I’ll make sure that Adele knows,” Edward agrees. “She and
Amelia were planning to go to the premiere of a ballet that Sergei Zharkov’s
producing for Carnival, something about Medea. They’ll just have to miss it.”

It occurs to me that the Russian’s choice of a work about
blood and madness might turn out to be more fitting than I’d thought. But not
if I can help it. Davos is only one man. There’s no reason why his death should
be anything other than a cause of great relief. Provided that I can get to him
fast enough, before he has any sense of what’s coming.

“How much lead time do you need?” I ask Edward.

“A few hours, that’s all.” He’s silent for a moment. “It’s
actually more critical that I know if you fail. Dead, Davos is no further
threat. But if he’s still alive--”

“He won’t be. However, I’ll make sure that you know either
way.” Including, although neither of us needs to say it, if I don’t survive.

Edward and I end our conversation a few minutes later. I’m
heading back to Pinnacle House, having opted to walk in order to avoid the
heavy traffic thronging the streets in the run-up to Carnival, when a young
woman gotten up as Marie Antoinette in her Bo-Peep phase stumbles out of an alley
and bumps into me.

Giggling, she says, “Oh, God, I’m sorry! Started partying a
little early, I guess.” She giggles again and grabs my hand to steady herself.
“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” she asks.

I’m about to assure the petite curly haired blond with the
improbably large breasts that I’m fine when her feet slip out from under her.
Despite her grip on my hand, she tumbles to her knees, in the process pressing
her face right up against my crotch. My cock is resting up for Amelia and
doesn’t react.

I grasp her shoulders and pull her to her feet. “How about I
call somebody to come get you?”

She bats her eyes and looks puzzled. “Why? I’m fine and
besides, the fun hasn’t even started yet.”

I step back, relieved when she remains upright. She gives me
another grin and a little wave before toddling on down the street. I shake my
head, wondering what kind of shape she’ll be in by morning.

Not my problem, fortunately. I move on, forgetting her.

I’ve gone half-a-block when I notice that my hand is
stinging. I stare at it for several moments before I make out the small
puncture wound in the palm. Even then I have a hard time processing what it
means. Of all the rookie mistakes! I’ve been so busy thinking about how to take
out Davos that I didn’t stop to consider that he could strike first. Or that
snake that he is, he’d never come at me directly. Bastard sent Bo-Peep to do it
instead.

I need help and fast.

I fumble for my link, intending to call Hollis. Whatever
poison or drug has entered my system, he can drop a evac drone right where I’m
standing. I can be in Medical within minutes. With luck, there’s still time to
get whatever this is out of me before--

The world shifts, tilting dizzily on its axis. My heart is
racing. I can hear the roar of blood in my ears. In the next instant, I feel as
though I’ve stepped outside my body, my consciousness detaching from the rest
of me. No pain, though, so probably not poison. A drug then. Shit! I stagger
and try again to reach my link but my fingers are clumsy and they miss. Instinctively,
I keep walking, reeling past clusters of early partiers who take no notice of
what must look like just another drunk guy. I need to do something but I can’t
remember what. The city, the street, the revelers, I’m losing it all. Losing
myself…

~~~~~~~~~~~~

When I’m next aware, I’m in an alley off the main drag. My
back is to a wall, which I must have slid down because I’m in a crouch. I
stand, relieved that I’m no longer dizzy, and look in all directions. Nothing.
I’m alone.

With no immediate threat in sight, I do a quick physical
check. So far as I can tell, I’m uninjured. My heartbeat has slowed to normal
and my vision is clear. Aside from a sheen of sweat filming my skin, I feel
fine.

What was all that then? I lift my hand and look at it closely.
It no longer stings and there’s no sign of the puncture wound that I thought I
saw.

I’m still convinced that something isn’t right. I’ll head
back to Pinnacle House and check in with Medical anyway, have them run a quick
tox screen. I leave the alley and start back up the avenue but before I get
very far, I’m reconsidering. I feel good. Hell, make that great.

All the crap I’ve been dealing with--the HPF, Davos, the
Council--has faded away. I can see each now for what it really is, a nuisance
to be crushed and forgotten, no doubts, no regrets, and above all none of that
right/wrong bullshit. Whatever works is right, plain and simple. Come down to
it, I really only have one problem--Amelia. That gorgeous, hot-as-Hades
temptress has me tied up in knots. Defying me the way she does, trying to tell
me what to do, getting me so hard that I can’t think straight.

The sun is too bright. I cross over to the shadowed side of
the street and keep walking. It really is a great day, the city at its best and
Carnival about to start. I’ve never let myself enjoy Carnival but I make up my
mind right then that this year will be an exception.

A prism of rainbow lights flickers at the periphery of my
vision. I have no idea where it’s coming from and I don’t care. I’m back to
thinking about Amelia. How tight her sweet cunt feels when I’m deep inside her,
those breathy little cries she gives as she comes, how soft and pliant she is
afterward. My hot, sexy obsession. Who seems to have forgotten that she’s my
property.

Taking her to the beach house was a mistake. Too many
memories associated with that place thanks to my old man bulldozing it. Ran the
machine himself, from what I heard. Say what you want but he had style.

And forget Pinnacle House. Gab’s taken a shine to her.
Hollis admires her courage. As for Hodge, he’s made it clear from the start
that he expects me to be the better man and do what’s right where she’s
concerned. The mood I’m in, I’ve got other priorities.

In a few hours, the serious partying begins. By tradition,
the Lords of Misrule take over the city. Anything goes. It’s time to cut loose
and let myself off the leash. Right about now, that sounds like a pretty good
plan, even if it does present a few logistical problems.