Mortal Danger (The Immortal Game) (16 page)

He wore an inscrutable look. “If I’m eliminated, it doesn’t hurt Wedderburn. True, the company is out the cost of my favors, but when you consider the scale they operate on—”

“It’s a drop in the bucket,” I guessed.

“So, to them, my chief value resides in my connection to you. The game can change at any time, you understand, but right now,
you
have a vital, viable future to protect.”

“I’d give a lot to know what future-me achieves and why it’s so critical.” I sighed. “Seems like it’s past time to visit you at work.”

“Agreed. That’s where we’re headed, in fact. Wedderburn asked to meet you.”

My heart stuttered in my chest. I’d asked to tour the place, but this was different. His boss
wanted
me there, and it made me nervous. “Any idea why?”

“He has a proposition for you.” Though his tone was matter-of-fact, he shook his head ever so slightly.

Right. Whatever Wedderburn wants, I say no.
Provided that I believed Kian had my best interests at heart. I wished I could be sure he did.
I can’t let myself be taken in by good looks and a pair of sad eyes.
That would make me quite an idiot.

“I hope I can remember what I’m not supposed to know,” I muttered.

“Just listen and act appreciative. Wedderburn has a thing for humility. And when he makes his offer, tell him you need time to think about it.”

That didn’t sound ominous or like bad advice. I might’ve done the latter without Kian’s guidance. I sat quiet for the remainder of the drive, though I stole periodic looks at him, unable to stop reassuring myself that he was really here. Absently I touched the infinity symbol on my wrist. Though it looked like a tattoo, the raised edges felt more like a brand.

“Does it hurt?” he asked.

“No. It just…” I couldn’t explain it, but it felt as if the thing were
alive
on my wrist and operating independently of me, like it might, someday, force my right hand to do things I didn’t want.

More crazy. But if I can’t share it with Kian …

So I took a deep breath and blurted all of that out. I expected him to stare in shock or even laugh. Instead he swore. “It’s happening too fast. They’ve accelerated the timetable, hoping to push you into burning your favors.”

“It’s not bothering me enough to make me ask you to take it off my arm.” But I stared at the symbol, quietly horrified, like it was an alien using me as its host.

“That’s not something I could do anyway. That mark is part of you now.”

Before I could ask what he was talking about, he pulled into an underground parking lot. The place was dark and creepy as the car went down, down, down, and it wasn’t better when Kian pulled into a spot that had his name painted on the wall. It made me think he was more important than he was telling, and I couldn’t escape the possibility that he might’ve been lying about everything, from his age to his name. While I was sure there
had
been a Kian Riley, it didn’t mean he was that person. None of the stories I’d found online had included a picture.

“Try not to be afraid,” he whispered as he opened the door for me. “Some of them find it … exciting.”

ICE, ICE, BABY

Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf had offices downtown, a glittering glass and steel monstrosity some twenty stories tall. The only hint as to who owned the building came in the form of a bronze plaque beside the front door with the names graven in copperplate lettering; the sign looked much older than the skyscraper, burnished with a patina created by time and the elements. Doubtless Kian wondered why I went out front to look around when we’d come up from the garage elevator, but I wanted to get a better sense of where I was.

Call it recon.

The reception area was banal to the point of seeming ironic—with beige upholstered chairs in the waiting area and abstract art in shades of brown. Even the receptionist seemed to have been hired to go along with the room, as she had ash-blond hair and brown eyes, skin that almost matched the walls. And she was wearing, you guessed it, an ensemble in various hues of brown and beige. She followed us with her gaze as we went past her to the elevator, but she didn’t speak.

“She’s unnerving,” I whispered to Kian.

“Iris has that effect on people. She … discourages walk-in problems.”

“I imagine. It’s weird the way she blends in with the décor.”

“She’d do that no matter what color scheme they chose.” The worst part was, I had no idea if he was kidding, and I didn’t want to ask.

The elevator seemed really, really cold, so I exhaled as a test, and my breath showed in a puff of white smoke. “It’s warmer outside.”

“Technically, we’re not in Massachusetts anymore.”

While I chewed on that, the car zoomed us to the tenth floor, then the doors dinged and opened. “This is my department.”

“Do you have a cubicle with a desk?” I made the joke because I was growing shakier with every step, and I had no idea why. It wasn’t just the cold, but something about this building just … was
not
right.

From the elevator, I glanced down an interminable white hallway. In fact, the length of that corridor seemed to exceed the diameter of the building, though I wasn’t sure how that was possible. Occasionally, I’d dream about an infinite hallway, interspersed with identical doors. Dream dictionaries said halls meant untapped portions of your psyche and closed doors symbolized missed opportunities. In symbolic combination, this place burgeoned with loss and untapped potential. We passed eight doors, all spaced equidistant, and from behind a couple of them, came the sound of muffled screaming.

“You said you were afraid this place would freak me out,” I said softly. “Good call.”

It felt like we walked for a good five minutes, but when I checked my phone to find out, it had frozen on the time when we entered the building, and no matter what buttons I pushed, it wouldn’t respond. I glanced up at Kian and he mouthed,
Later.
Okay, now I was genuinely losing my shit. Only a lifetime of training in the school of If You Cry, We Win kept my poker face intact. I clenched one hand into a fist at my sides, nails biting into my palm.

At last we came to a door at the end of the hallway. When I turned, I could no longer see the elevator from here. This one was distinguishable from the others only in that it had a nameplate on it, K. Wedderburn. I had no idea what madness or horror lay beyond, but Kian entered without knocking. If possible, it was even colder in the office, a big room wrapped with windows on two sides, and those were frosted over so I couldn’t see what lay beyond. Some tiny voice inside me whispered that was best.

Wedderburn was even more inhuman than his photo suggested. Oh, he had all the right parts in the correct places, but he radiated a cold that surpassed the chill in the room. His hair was more like hoarfrost and his eyes were pools of black ice. Even his skin looked like it might crack if you touched it.
No wonder they need agents like Kian. They can’t travel too easily in the mortal world.
I had no idea why I’d chosen that word, but it fit. This wasn’t a human creature, if it ever had been. He was doing something at an odd white metal desk, only it was no compound I’d ever seen before, as it held the opalescent gleam of mother of pearl. While the back framework looked like a computer, Wedderburn had his fingers
in
the screen, stretching and pulling at the surface so that shimmers of what looked like liquid mercury clung his fingertips.

On noticing our arrival, he flicked his hands, so that the computer-thing let him go and he rose with the sound of someone moving over fresh fallen snow. “Ah. Miss Kramer. You are a
fascinating
asset.”

“Thank you.” I had no idea if that was the right response, but when Wedderburn’s cheeks crackled in a smile, I guessed it was.

“I hope Kian has been taking good care of you?”

“He’s made it clear that I’m special.” Why, I had no idea, and I wasn’t sure Kian did, either. WM&G seemed to operate on a need-to-know basis.

There were no furnishings, nothing with which to entertain or make another person comfortable. So I stood in the icy air, wishing I dared reach for Kian’s hand. Even though he was supposed to be making me fall madly in love with him, I wasn’t sure how far along we were supposed to be, and I didn’t want extra attention from Wedderburn. Kian always used a particular tone when he mentioned his boss, and now I understood why. A whimper boiled up in my throat, but I choked it down.

“I see that you’re uneasy,” Wedderburn said. “I apologize. But certain necessities preclude a more welcoming environment.”

If it’s warmer, you melt into a puddle of goo? That wouldn’t surprise me at
all.

“It’s all right. I’m more interested in hearing what you have to say than in taking tea.”

“Excellent. I appreciate efficiency. Just ask Kian.”

Despite myself, I glanced at Kian, who nodded. His expression was as flat as I’d ever seen it. Even his normally expressive eyes gave nothing away
. This is the creature he works for, the one he’s trying to save me from.
I wished I could be sure of it, and not fear he was secretly working in tandem to make me do exactly as they wanted.

God, I sound so nuts.

“He said you wanted to meet me,” I murmured.

“Indeed. Come around the desk, my girl.” The proprietary tone sent a shiver down my spine and I moved quickly to avoid one of his long, spidery fingers lighting on my shoulder.

What had looked slightly like a computer from the other side now looked like nothing I’d ever seen before. It seemed to be part creature, part machine, with a square head, for lack of a better word, and a metallic neck that led down to shoulders and arms that seemed to have been fused with the desk, which might also be alive, as far as I knew. The otherness of it was so appalling I had to look away.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“My interface to the Oracle. Through her, I can sort through various alternate futures, shadow threads, and encourage others.”

“Like the Moirae.”

“Ah, an educated girl. How charming.” But he reacted as if knowledge were a persimmon, unexpectedly tart on his tongue.

“But unlike the Fates, I can only shape or suggest. I cannot cut or create threads.”

If you could, you’d have won your game long before now.

He continued, “A shadow on a mortal fate, however, is often enough to blight it. I believe there are those who have been most unjust to you. It seems unfair that you must slog toward vengeance when a mind like yours should be turned to more important endeavors.”

“What are you proposing?” I asked.

“Let me take care of it for you.”

I thought of the assholes in the Teflon crew and could only imagine what Wedderburn would consider proper retaliation, but I sensed I had to be super careful in how I turned him down. Kian had counseled me to say I needed time to think, but if I didn’t nip this in the bud, it would only get tougher to say no later. “While I appreciate the offer, it would rob me of satisfaction not to orchestrate their downfall personally.”

Wedderburn sighed. “I was afraid you would say that, but … I understand. You will, of course, permit me to be of service in some other fashion. I want to help you reach your true potential, Edie.”

With him wearing that insane smile, I feared I might be the next scary dictator in what Kian called my optimum timeline. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to see a demonstration?” he asked.

Part of me thought it was a bad idea, but I also couldn’t refuse everything. Wedderburn seemed like the easily offended type and I preferred to get out of his office without being flash frozen. So I forced a smile, the same one I gave to the Teflon crew, and said, “That would be amazing.”

“Come a little closer.”

Kian shifted and pulled in a breath, as if in instinctive protest, but I didn’t dare look at him. It required all of my willpower not to shiver uncontrollably and wrap my arms about myself. In addition to the cold, this strange creature also radiated a primordial dread that made my skin creep, trying to crawl all the way off my muscles and bones in horror that no amount of meds or therapy could fix. The whimper in my throat became a silent scream.

“Of course.”

Wedderburn turned toward the head-monitor-thing and swiveled it so I could see the liquid mercury stuff. Before he reached inside the frame, it was opaque, but at his touch, it shimmered and turned translucent, so each time he stirred icy fingertips, a new pattern rippled, first a star, then a pentacle, and then it turned into a cephalopod with tentacles lashing in all directions. He speared one with a fingertip and it flowered into a murky image, similar to a convenience store surveillance camera’s, only cast in liquid.

Vi.

Like the room around me, my blood iced over. Fear wasn’t deep enough for the feeling that swamped me, tighter and knottier than sickness. Outwardly, I kept a cool front, apart from my breathing, but I couldn’t do anything about it. My stomach swirled as we spied on her. She was at home, head bent over her schoolbooks. Now and then, she smiled at the candid photo of her and Seth taped to her mirror.
I
took that shot. The scene was ordinary in every possible way, and it was unspeakably wrong for us to be watching her like this.

Beside me, Wedderburn was silent, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. “A shadow here … or here … would change everything,” he said conversationally. “Your friend seems to have a bright future.”

Seems. That’s definitely a threat.

He went on, “It would probably crush her if something happened to her new beau. Ah, first love. I’m not sure she’d recover.”

He stirred the surface again, without pulling or changing anything that I could tell, and now we were watching Seth. He didn’t have a picture of Vi on his wall, which might disappoint her, but she was the wallpaper background on his laptop. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse. Idly Wedderburn flicked the liquid and Seth rubbed his head.