The Gender Game (26 page)

T
he banquet
.

As much as I tried to put off thinking about it, the time was drawing too close now. As much as I struggled to continue brushing it aside, I couldn't. I could no longer keep it thrust down to the depths of my subconscious.

Only four days left.

Four days, and I will be calling Viggo to the scene of the crime.

Four days, and I will be framing him for an atrocity he didn't commit.

Four days, and I will have ruined his life… Maybe given the Court reason to take it from him.

None of my previous techniques for numbing myself worked anymore. Maybe it was the stillness I was forced to inhabit, the quiet of my room as even Lee left me alone for hours on end.

It was as if every emotion I'd kept pent up since the beginning of this mission came flooding out at once. Overwhelming me. Drowning me.

How could I have ever agreed to do this?

Viggo had rescued me from death and here I was contemplating in only a few sleeps' time, pulling the rug out from under his feet. Stabbing him in the back in the worst possible way. I had made him trust me enough to show his vulnerability: the loss of his wife, his struggle with Patrian society, and his readiness even now to defy the rules. I had become his
friend
. Why else would he have left the fight to save me if he didn't value our friendship? If he didn't like me? He could have informed Lee of my disappearance and then left the rest of his team to look for me. He'd been off-duty at that time, anyway. He hadn't needed to leave the fight for me, nor had he needed to cover up the murder I'd committed. And yet he'd done all this. He'd foregone the mass of money he could have made from that fight, angered thousands of people, and maybe even put his sparkling future career on the line… all for me.

I shook my head as I lay in bed with my eyes closed.

No. No. I can't do this. I can't do this.

The hours slipped away at terrifying speed. Soon night had come around again. Then morning.

Lee's brief appearances to check in on me came as simply blips in time, brief interruptions to my agonizing over Viggo. He informed me that he'd washed Viggo's coat and taken it to the wardens' head office for him to collect.

Alastair called the evening of the third day before the banquet to speak to both of us. Lee told me that it was best not to tell him about the kidnapping—that it would only freak him out.

So I told Alastair that everything was going smoothly, even as I was screaming inside.

I told him that Lee and I would be ready for the banquet, even as I ached.

I didn't know what to do, or what to say—if anything—to Lee. I felt trapped in a web of my own making. Tangled up in knots with no hand to free me.

Although I should be focusing on nothing but my recovery, I was barely even aware of my physical state anymore. I used the cream and medication as the doctor prescribed, mechanically, by rote, barely even bothering to check the progress of my healing in the mirror.

I was too far gone, my mind lost on a different stratum.

Do I tell Lee what I
'
m feeling?

I feared his reaction, and I didn't want to lay any more stress on him than he was under already, but I finally reached a precipice where I felt I would lose my mind if I kept my emotions bottled up even an hour longer.

So, when I heard him return to the house, I called for him. He came climbing up the stairs and entered my room, sitting on the edge of my bed.

"Are you okay?" he asked, tensing.

I propped myself upright against the headboard and drew in a breath. "Lee…" My voice came out uneven. "I-I don't know that I can do this."
I can't do this.
I could hardly believe what I was thinking.
I have a reunion with my brother on the line!

Lee heaved a sigh. He reached out a hand and cupped my knee, squeezing gently. "Violet, I understand your nerves. In spite of my preparation, I still find myself doubting. Can we really pull this off? Will we get out alive? Etcetera, etcetera. You need to stop thinking. We have only two days left, and then there will only be
doing
. Two days, and you should be out of here… back home. Safe. Two days left, that's all. So just… keep it together. Okay?"

"But Viggo," I croaked. "He saved my life. He sacrificed—"

"Violet," Lee said, sterner this time at the mention of Viggo. "Remember what I said. Don't lose sight of the bigger picture. In fact, you should
only
be thinking of the bigger picture. Nothing else. That's all you're here for. Once you keep your mind focused on the goal, all the details become insignificant… just moving pieces on the board. Pawns in the game. You understand?"

I didn't. I neither understood nor agreed with what Lee was saying. I could no longer accept that implicating Viggo was the
only
way. And yet even I could see that there was no point continuing this discussion. As much as I wished I could speak honestly with Lee to release some of the pressure escalating within me, he was a closed book. It was far too late in the game to be bringing up feelings and sentiments. None of it mattered. In Lee's mind, the plan was already chalked out for us, set in stone. After his preparation in the lab, the explosives he'd set up, the destruction they would cause, and the lives they would claim, there was no moving backward.

We were on a freight train with broken brakes.

We had to execute, or die trying.

But as Lee left me to rest again and get an early night, I knew that I had become a different kind of passenger. The kind of passenger to leap from a runaway train. The kind who would not wait until the end.

O
nce midnight fell
, I swung my legs off the bed.

I stood up and didn't feel dizzy.

I walked around the room, my back straight, head up high. Still no dizziness. Then I moved to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. My face was still bruised, of course, and the stitching beneath my eye still fresh. I searched my drawers to check my mustache and facial hair hadn't been removed and found them still there along with the adhesive and my wig.

I padded to the door and opened it a crack. The corridor outside was dark. I poked my head out fully, then stepped out. I couldn't hear any sounds indicating that Lee was downstairs, so I headed to his room and pressed my ear against the door. Deep, heavy breathing. He was asleep.

I hurried back to my room and applied the facial hair and wig in record time, then pulled on a jacket. I didn't need to bother with the bulky body suit. It was nighttime, so hopefully nobody would see me anyway.

Finishing in the bathroom, I approached my bed and stuffed three spare cushions beneath the blanket to make it look like my form was lying there—in case Lee came in for a brief glance during the night. I needed to buy myself as much time as possible.

Samuel was asleep in his basket outside the kitchen, and I hardly dared to breathe as I made my way to the front door. I picked up Lee's chain of keys hanging from the coat rack, pulled on a pair of shoes, and then slowly, carefully, went about opening the door. The metal was well-oiled and the mechanism opened with a soft click. I closed it and locked it behind me before heading round the building to Lee's motorcycle that was leaning against the wall.

Even though I was able to drive whatever vehicle I wanted in Matrus—I had never actually learned. I had spent too much time in detention to have come across the chance. Now, as I rolled the motorcycle out of the driveway, out of view from the house, I felt terrified. I barely knew how to start it—everything I was about to do was based on witnessing Lee and Viggo drive their motorcycles.

But this was the only way I could make it to Viggo's house.

This was the only way.

After strapping one of the helmets to my head and pushing the motorcycle a comfortable distance away from Lee's house, I dared attempt to start it up at the side of the road. It took a minute before I managed it. It came alive more easily than I expected. Now I had to hope that riding it would come just as smoothly… It didn't.

As I hopped on, I immediately lost balance and my right leg almost got crushed beneath the falling machine. It took a good five minutes for me to feel comfortable raising my feet from the ground again. I revved the engine, causing the motorcycle to jerk forward. I almost lost balance a second time. I feared I might swerve off the road before I ever reached Viggo's.

But there was no time for second thoughts. I couldn't afford to entertain doubts.

I spurred the vehicle ahead, as slowly as I could without having the engine conk out due to the slope we were ascending, before gradually building confidence and rolling faster. I had two advantages at least: first, the roads up here weren't busy, and second, I knew the way to Viggo's cabin fairly well.

So, I found myself hurtling through the night, the road slipping away beneath me.

Framing Viggo wasn't the only way. I knew it wasn't. There had to be other scapegoats we could use. We could pin the whole operation on the men of Porteque. Leave a message behind on a building in big red letters or something, declaring it to be an act of rebellion. They were already anarchists, so this could follow on naturally from their recent kidnapping of me.

Whatever the case, once I'd seen Viggo, Lee and I would have no choice but to scramble around for another solution to prevent the blame falling on Matrus. Lee would be mad at me, but I didn't care. We'd figure out a last-minute alternative, because we'd have to. We both had too much at stake to fail in this mission.

Drops of rain began to fall. Drops which soon multiplied and came down harder and heavier, until I was drenched to my underwear.

Still, it didn't matter.

Almost there now. Almost there.

I was shivering by the time I recognized the turn down Viggo's lane. The rain had become torrential and it was a wonder that I hadn't skidded off the road entirely. I trundled down the dirt track—fast turning to thick mud—and skidded to a stop ten feet before Viggo's cabin.

No gas lamps shone through the gaps in the shutters. Perhaps he wasn't even home.

I had to pray that he was only asleep.

Discarding the motorcycle, I stood, my knees feeling shaky from the journey. The first thing I did was reach for my fake hair and tear it off, shoving it into my pockets. I might not even need it again after tonight.

My blood pounding in my ears, I hurried to Viggo's porch and scaled the steps to his front door. I hesitated to catch a breath, then knocked four times.

No answer.

I knocked again, five times, more loudly.

Still nothing.

Oh, no. Don't say he's out after all.

I left the porch, striding back out into the rain, and circled the building. Shutters covered every window. I couldn't see through a single one of them. Moving back toward the front of the building, I stopped dead in my tracks.

A light had been lit. As I turned a corner, at the bottom of the porch stairs was Viggo, wearing nothing but boxer shorts. His hair was mussed, his eyelids hooded. I had obviously woken him up.

But his expression came to life on realizing his intruder was me.

"Violet!" He gaped. "What are you doing here?" His eyes shot to the motorcycle, his face falling. "Where is your husband?"

I stood rooted to my spot as though paralyzed. "He's not here," I rasped.

Viggo launched forward and grabbed me by the hand, pulling me toward his porch, up the stairs and through to his cabin. He slammed the door behind us, towering over me in the hallway. He turned on me, backing me against the wall, his expression a mixture of alarm and utter confusion.

"You… You
drove
here?" he demanded.

My hands balled up. I nodded, holding his intense gaze.

"What the
hell
has gotten into you? Do you know the punishment you could receive for that infraction? And that's leaving aside the fact that you've roamed across a mountain at night completely on your own—have you forgotten what just happened to you?" He gripped my shoulders in frustration as I merely stared back at him. "Say something, dammit!"

I'd gone over what I was going to say to him in my mind already, but now that I was here, standing in this stupidly narrow corridor, Viggo so close to me we were practically touching, I felt breathless. Claustrophobic.

"I, uh, I need to tell you something," I managed, my voice deeper than it should have been.

His brows rose, eyes widening. "Clearly!"

I couldn't go so far as to tell him the truth, obviously. He couldn't know that I was a spy, that I’d been trying to frame him all along, or anything about our mission. After telling him all that, he’d likely not trust another word I said. Why should he? I had no idea how he’d react or what he’d do, and I couldn’t run the risk of losing the chance to see my brother again. A chance I
still
was convinced that I had.

I just needed to make sure that Viggo didn’t come anywhere near the lab tomorrow—even if I failed to convince Lee that the Porteque men would be better scapegoats.

Gathering confidence, I looked Viggo seriously in the eye, parting my lips to speak… but before I could utter a word, my jacket pocket vibrated. When I slipped a hand inside my pocket, it closed around my pager. I'd forgotten it was still in there. My throat drying out, I lifted the pager and glanced at the screen.

"SAY ANYTHING, AND HE WILL BE ASSASSINATED."

My blood ran cold.

Lee had woken up and tracked me down. I'd known all along this was a possibility, but I had been hoping against hope that I would make it back in time.

But what is Lee talking about?

Have Viggo assassinated?

Why?

How?

"Violet?" Viggo drew my attention back to him. "What's going on? Did your husband send a message?"

I hurriedly stuffed the pager back into my pocket. My first instinct was to assume that Lee had panicked on seeing me at Viggo’s and was now bluffing out of desperation.
Lee doesn’t even have those sorts of contacts here, does he?
I thought back to the moving red dots on Lee's computer screen. Lee had told me that they were people whose "help" he’d used. I wasn’t sure to what extent that "help" could stretch, or how much he trusted them. Obviously not enough to work with him in directly stealing the egg; otherwise, why did he need me? Or maybe Lee would find a way to pull off the assassination himself.

I supposed it was possible that Lee wasn’t bluffing.

But why?
Why was assassination necessary? It was as though Lee was assuming that I'd lost myself to guilt and was about to spill everything to Viggo.

"Violet!" Viggo urged.

I parted my lips, on the verge of going through with my original plan. But Lee's message had burned itself into my brain.

Assassinated.

Maybe there were other reasons he (or his mysterious "helpers") would be forced to end Viggo. Reasons I wasn't aware of. Lee had said from the very beginning that Viggo was one of our biggest obstacles… and that was why Lee had sent me in to neutralize him.

Only in the process, I've become neutralized myself.
I'd gotten "carried away". Exactly what Lee had repeatedly warned me against.

I tried to forecast Viggo's life in a few days' time, assuming that I went ahead with Lee's plan. Viggo would be facing death on that path, too. The state would offer him no less punishment for the crime. But maybe down that route, there was a chance that he would find a way out. A chance that he would find some evidence to prove himself innocent. Maybe Viggo could convince the authorities to conduct an in-depth investigation into the matter… Viggo would suspect me, having received my call to the crime scene. Maybe he wouldn't even link me to Matrus; maybe he'd think that I'd been traumatized and threatened so severely by the men of Porteque during my time captive there that I was doing their bidding in causing disruption. As I recalled the brainwashed Ada, that could be a plausible assumption.

And perhaps people would assume that I'd burned in the blast, so there would be no wondering where I'd gone.

And I'd be back in Matrus. Maybe even already reunited with my brother by the time investigations came to any conclusion.

As strange as it sounded, letting Viggo face Patrus' judicial system seemed like a better chance of survival for him.

"Violet!" Viggo clutched my shoulders and shook me again, forcing me to look him in the eye. "What did you come to tell me about? What could have
possibly
been so important that you felt the need to travel to me in the middle of the night without your husband?"

In his exasperation, Viggo had moved closer to me still. I could no longer take the pressure of his imposing form in such proximity. Pushing past him, I strode into the living room, clutching my head, my back turned to him.

Now I couldn't think of a single good reason I could offer as to why I had come here. Why I had gone behind my husband's back…

I might have already done irreparable damage by coming here tonight. Piqued his interest in Lee's and my relationship to a point where it should never have been piqued.

Viggo entered the living room after me. His tone had become calmer, quieter—more hesitant—as he said, "Has Lee… done something to you? Did you have an argument or…"

"No," I said, shaking my head firmly. "Nothing like that. We-We're okay." My pitch rose as I repeated, "We're okay."

The floorboards creaked. Viggo stood just a foot behind me now. I could hear his breathing. Breathe in his scent. My heartbeat quickened as his hand closed gently around my shoulder, endearing me to turn around.

"Then… what?" he asked.

I faced him. Blood rushed to my cheeks as I took in his tired face, his forehead lined with confusion. The stubble around his jaw had grown noticeably since the last time I'd seen him a few days ago, adding to his jaded appearance.

His confusion stabbed me with guilt. But more than confused… he looked concerned. Concerned, just as he had been after finding me wandering the streets alone, the second night of my arrival in Patrus. As he had been when he'd held my arm tightly after our encounter with the gang members outside the Rosen-Cruz fight. As he had been when saving me from Porteque and covering up my murder. After I'd woken up to him in the helicopter. And just now, as I'd arrived outside his house with a motorcycle in the pouring rain.

Viggo Croft was a good man.

Better than my Matrian upbringing had ever allowed me to imagine existed on this side of the river, or on my side.

He was the best I'd known on either side.

As he sighed, apparently giving up hope of ever receiving an answer from me, I no longer needed to wonder how to respond.

When I gazed at his face, adrenaline surged in me. My pulse raced. For the first time, I knew exactly what to do. It didn't require any thinking. Any weighing of the pros and cons. Just instinct. Pure, inescapable instinct.

"If you're not going to talk, then I need to take you—"

Viggo's voice trailed off as I closed the small distance between us. My arms acted of their own accord as they wound around his neck and shoulders. Then they were pulling me upward, closer, until I was standing on my tiptoes. My brows furrowed, my eyelids shut… and then my lips were on his. Heat rolled through my body.

His lips were firm. Voluminous. Lips that cushioned mine in a way that made me want to take them in my mouth one at a time, experience their fullness slowly, thoroughly. Lips that could engulf mine if he responded. But I didn't expect him to respond. He had frozen, arms stiff at his sides, every muscle beneath his bare shoulders and chest tensed against me.