by Lu, Marie
Maybe Daniel’s right. It’s possible that someone like Dominic Hann would cut deals like mine with lots of people. Maybe if I stay away from the Undercity, he’ll shrug off our encounter and just be content with the rounds I’d won him during the drone race.
The AIS director’s words echo in my mind. You are the closest thing we have to a lead.
I might be their best chance at capturing Dominic Hann. Daniel himself has been hunting the man for months. If I stay away from the entire situation, my brother will keep heading into the Undercity. He’ll keep putting himself in danger until he gets him. Didn’t he go deep into the same drone race pit that I was in? How many more situations like that before his luck runs out? Will there be a day when he doesn’t come home?
“Eden!”
Pressa’s voice cuts through the music and my thoughts. I blink and look down at her. She’s holding a drink out at me, and her lips are pursed in concern. “Are you sure you want to be here?” she says. “We don’t have to be at the club. Want to head to a diner instead?”
I shake my head and take the drink from her. “No, I’m fine,” I shout back. “Let’s stay.” I take her hand in mine and lead her closer to the stage.
If we weren’t hooked up to the Level system, there’d be no one onstage. But with our systems running, we can see virtual performers dancing up there, fantasies of people with wings hovering in midair, mermaids sitting on giant spinning hoops overhead, all surrounded by a ceiling of virtual ivy and swirling clouds. It’s a mesmerizing scene.
I force myself to stare at it all until it seems to consume me. Everyone around me looks dressed up in some kind of virtual outfit. They’re colorful, even grotesque, and I’m grateful for the distraction as I join Pressa in a dance to a feverish song.
Here, she always lets herself go. Now she flashes a smile at me as she twirls. “We’re no longer in Ross City,” she exclaims. “We’re somewhere far away. I’m leaving the Undercity behind!”
I smile at her as she moves to the beat of the music, trying to sink into the fantasy with her. As we dance, she wraps her arms around my neck and I put my hands at her waist, pressing her close to me and feeling the thud of the music rush through us.
She tilts her head at me so that her bobbed hair falls in a sheet against her chin. “You’re looking for something,” she says, pulling me close enough to shout in my ear. “I can tell. What’s on your mind?”
I haven’t told her yet about my talk with the AIS. Instead, I just shake my head. “The race,” I reply, my words almost lost over the beat. “And who was sponsoring it.”
I half expect her to laugh it off and tell me not to worry so much. But instead, Pressa nods, a thoughtful frown on her face. “Keep this identity on whenever you leave the Sky Floors,” she finally tells me. She nods to the fake name and Level hovering over my head. “I’ve crossed paths with men like that before. They don’t play around, but I don’t think you’ve done enough to warrant them going after you. It might not be worth their while.”
I can’t tell if she really believes everything she’s saying. But it’s similar enough to what Daniel had told me that I feel a pinch of relief. I nod. “Right. Not worth their while,” I repeat, trying to take comfort in it.
She gives me a smile and goes back to dancing to the rhythm. “Try to relax tonight, all right?” She pats my shoulder. “You’ve graduated! Soon you’ll be off to the Republic!”
Maybe it’s my imagination, but I see a flash of sadness cross her face even as she exclaims it. Soon you’ll be off to the Republic! And Pressa will stay behind here, trapped in the Undercity. A pang twists my heart at the thought, and suddenly I’m very aware of how close we are. Her hair, smooth as silk, brushes the skin on my arm.
“Not that soon,” I shout back, trying to sound nonchalant about her answer. Trying to ignore the flutter that she’s started in my chest.
Pressa brightens a little at that, and the spark in her eyes is enough to make me forget that maybe our friendship won’t last forever.
In the mess of wildly dressed dancers, I see a shadowy figure. It looks straight at me before it vanishes again into the throngs.
I slow in my steps and frown, then rub my eyes. Neon colors swirl around me in a haze. Am I seeing things now? I shake my head, then smile at Pressa and go back to dancing.
A few minutes pass. Then the shadow appears again.
This time it’s closer, and off to my left, but it’s distinctly the silhouette of a man, gaze pointed straight at me.
I freeze and whirl to face him. It’s there for another moment, long enough for me to catch my breath and nudge Pressa. I point in its direction. “You see that?” I gasp out.
“What?” Pressa looks toward where I’m pointing—right at the moment the figure disappears into the crowd again. “The dancers at the edge of the stage? Those are real people, not virtual figures. I hear if you want to go up there, you have to—”
“No. There was a shadow standing there.” I blink several times, as if the figure will reappear. “It was a man looking right at me. I saw him over on my right earlier.” I whirl in place again, scanning the crowd.
Pressa tenses too, sensing the change in my energy. But there’s nothing to show her now. Everyone around us is still in the throes of the beat, laughing and shouting and pumping their fists in the air. No sign of a mysterious figure.
I rub my eyes. “Never mind,” I mutter. Pressa leans closer to me with a concerned look. I just try to give her a grin. “I think I’m just exhausted from everything that’s happened.”
She looks unconvinced. To her credit, she looks across the crowd again, just in case she’d missed what I was talking about. Then she turns back to me and takes my arm. I try to take solace in the warmth of her touch. “Come on,” she says. “Let’s head to the lounge, cool off a bit.”
I nod numbly and follow her off the dance floor. We jostle past bodies all around us as we head out of the main atrium and into a narrow side hall.
I do a double take as we pass the lines at the bathrooms. A figure in dark clothes is leaning against the wall, and as we go, I swear he turns his head to follow us, his gaze penetrating. I look directly toward him. But I just see a group of giggling girls and boys, trading some secret among themselves.
My heartbeat starts to quicken. Dominic Hann’s men can be everywhere at once. He’s murdered people in the Sky Floors before. What if he’s here right now? Are they watching me?
But even as I think this, a part of me scoffs at how ridiculous it sounds. All I can remember is the genuine interest in his eyes and the charisma in his words. Hadn’t he been so supportive of me? Why would he want me dead, if he seemed so interested in what I could make?
We reach the lounge. Pressa forces me to sit down, then grabs me a glass of water from the bar. “You look like you just witnessed a crime,” she says as she hands me the glass. “Everything okay?”
I take the glass and don’t stop drinking until the water’s gone. My eyes scan the room, searching for a shadow. Maybe I’m too tired to be here. Maybe it’s too much noise and too many people. “I think I need to go home,” I whisper, my eyes darting from person to person.
Pressa nods. “Okay.”
She gets up, and I follow her gratefully. The colors swirl around me, making me light-headed. Maybe the shadows are nothing but my own anxieties, or maybe I’m even lost in a nightmare. I’ve had dreams like this, where I’m stuck in dark hallways and trying in vain to find the exit. I keep looking for the shadows.
My thoughts keep lingering on them. Dominic Hann’s men, the whisper goes in my head.
It’s stupid. Why would he waste time following me around?
But as I stumble out of the club’s exit with Pressa, I see one last glimpse of dark figures behind us. There are two of them, both silhouettes with hands in their pockets, and their eyes are trained on me.
Virtual figures, I tell myself. They’re not real. I turn back around and hurry out with Pressa. But the
sight haunts me, and I keep looking over my shoulder the entire way home, expecting to see them following close behind.
And even though I don’t quite believe it, the nagging whisper in my head keeps talking to me.
They’re coming for your brother. They’re coming for you.
DANIEL
By the time I return to my apartment, my thoughts still swirling around what had—or hadn’t—happened with June, Eden’s still gone to who knows where. I step in through the doorway, expecting to hear the security system’s usual announcement of my name.
But there’s nothing.
I pause in the entryway, glance up at the speaker system, and then frown at the screen embedded against the entry hall. “System’s rebooting again,” I mutter, then flash my hand against the screen and watch as it lights up blue, resetting all of its features.
But something’s off in the apartment. I look around again, warier this time. Everything seems like it’s in its place; Eden’s shoes are still clustered haphazardly near the doorway, and his dirty dishes are in the sink, left in a hurry as usual. Dim light spills across the floor.
But the place doesn’t feel empty like it should. I step into the center of the living room, trying to pinpoint exactly what’s bothering me. There’s a hint of something foreign in the air—a faint cologne, maybe, or the scent of a mint that neither Eden nor I buy.
My eyes go to a shadow stretching behind me.
It’s not the shadow of the kitchen counter.
Every hair rises on the back of my neck. Someone’s here. I whirl around, but it’s too late—there’s a woman in a black suit standing in front of my door. For a split second, I think she’s an AIS agent—but she’s not recognizable, and she’s not wearing our uniform. Another presence moves behind me.
I duck, managing to dodge out of one lunge for me—but then another set of arms catches mine, forcing them behind my back. How many people are in here? I bare my teeth, ready to spin around and attack. But a damp cloth is shoved over my mouth. The overwhelming smell of chloroform invades my senses.
I fight wildly to escape it, but whoever’s holding me is easily double my size. Before me stands a figure blurred by my motions. I recognize the neat trim of his beard and the tint of his glasses. He smiles at me.
“Daniel Altan Wing,” he says. “Well. I’m really going to cause a stir in the city this time.”
It’s Dominic Hann.
Eden. Where is he? But my senses are already starting to cloud over. My movements turn more labored. The lingering, relentless stench of chloroform triggers some old memory this time of the Republic’s labs, and I feel a sudden rush of panic—I’m ten years old and back at the Trials again, have failed again, and the soldiers are putting me under, cutting open my knee and injecting poisons into my eye, leaving me for dead. I am going to wake in a pile of corpses. The panic surges through me.
No. I’m not going back to that.
But I can’t fight out of this darkness. The world closes in around me.
In a last, desperate act, I bring up June’s account in my view. Then I message her. I don’t even get a chance to say anything—all I get to send her is an empty few seconds of static.
We aren’t what we used to be, but we know each other enough to sense when something’s gone wrong.
It’s all I have the strength to do. The last thing I see is the silhouette of Dominic Hann standing over me, giving a command to his men.
Then the darkness settles in, and I don’t remember anything more.
EDEN
Daniel’s not answering my call. Not only that, but the call doesn’t go through to his account at all—I just get an automatic message telling me to try again later.
I frown as I head away from the nightclub and back home after parting ways with Pressa. It’s a beautiful space, a walkway between two skyscrapers that’s been transformed into a lush green landscape, full of roses and willow trees and vines that crawl over the side of the walkway’s glass barriers to hang down to the floor below. Now in the middle of the night, it’s quiet, with only the occasional late partyer heading back home.
Maybe Daniel’s still out with June. It would be the only reason why he’s not returning my calls.
The only reason I want to think about, anyway.
The memory of the figures in the club is still fresh in my mind, along with Daniel’s worried eyes and ominous warnings. Here, in the upper echelons of the city, it’s hard to dwell on the fact that I’d just been in the Undercity days earlier, face-to-face with a notorious killer. It’s so serene here. All I can hear is the trickle of water from a central fountain on the walkway.
It’s nothing, I reassure myself. Daniel’s fine. There had been a warning this morning, anyway, about a solar flare that might knock out transmissions for the next few days. Maybe service is just bad right now.
Another automated message comes onto my view right as I reach the elevator station that will take me back up to my floor, telling me again that Daniel’s not available.
I pause, my eyes fixating on the glowing red outline of the hovering text box. It’s true that Daniel’s been on missions before that have required him to keep his system powered completely off … but he’s always given me warnings about that in advance. And after our meeting at AIS yesterday, the timing on this seems off.
A knot tightens in my stomach. I don’t know for sure, because an error message is hardly a reason to panic about something. But the knot is a familiar one. I remember it from childhood, from the nights when Daniel was still fighting his illness—of how I’d stir awake to see a blurry image of him hunched on the edge of his bed, his face pointed down at the floor and his lips tightened into a wince.
And even though a part of me keeps repeating Solar Flare Interference and AIS Business to myself, the knot still feels the same.
Something’s wrong. I know it without confirmation, without hearing Daniel saying it to me.
I bring the error message back up. “You better have a good reason for this,” I mutter at the message under my breath. With a sigh, I try to shake off my growing sense of unease.
The elevator station is empty tonight, and for the first time in a while, I’m the only one heading up fifteen stories to my floor. The music playing in the lobby echoes against the empty floor. I swallow, the knot in my stomach twisting into something painful.
It’s going to be okay, I tell myself as the door finally slides open and I step in. My thoughts whirl as the elevator rises silently. Daniel’s going to be at home, and he’s going to be wearing that annoyed expression he always gets as he asks me why his messages weren’t getting through to me.
Then, abruptly, the elevator stops ten floors shy of mine—and a man and a woman in suits step inside.
I stiffen immediately. Both of them are looking at me.
“Do you need something?” I ask.
The woman gives me a terse smile. “You’re Eden Bataar Wing, yes?” she asks.
I realize I don’t have my name displayed over my head right now. “How do you know?” I reply.
The man gives me a nod so courteous that it seems mocking. “A pleasure,” he says. “My employer, Mr. Hann, would very much like to extend a cordial invitation to you for a meeting with him tonight.”
Mr. Hann. Dominic.
The name hits me like a hammer, and the wind is knocked out of me so hard that for a moment I can’t respond to him. The knot pulls tighter. Something is wrong something is wrong something is wrong.
“I—” I start, then stutter to a halt from the dryness in my throat. “I can’t make it tonight,” I try again.
The woman smiles at me and puts a hand on my shoulder. It feels ice-cold. “Mr. Hann would very much like to make it worth your while,” she replies.
I’m trembling now. Through the elevator’s glass windows, the walkway to my university disappears far below me. I shake my head, wishing I could come up with a clever reply. “I’m sorry,” I say instead. “I have some homework
to finish up, and I need to work on an engine—”
The man doesn’t wait for me to finish repeating my pitiful lie. He waves a hand subtly in the air, and suddenly a video screen appears between us.
It’s a feed of someone following Daniel as he leaves a hotel room. June’s, most likely. The video trails him down through the Sky Floors as he takes the elevators, his hands casually in his pockets, his silhouette familiar. There’s a small, lingering smile on his face. He has no idea someone is watching him.
Every hair rises on my neck at the sight.
Daniel steps inside our apartment. The alarm system doesn’t greet him in its usual way. The door starts to slide shut behind him, but the video feed follows him in. Whoever it was that was trailing him got into our apartment.
The feed cuts off.
As if on cue, I get an incoming call from June that appears in my view. When I don’t answer, her voice starts playing automatically. “Eden,” she says. “This is June Iparis. I just received a blank transmission from Daniel, and I can’t seem to call him back. Is he with you? Where are you? Eden?”
The knot in my stomach turns to stone. The world around me hazes at the edges. The echo of Something is wrong fills my mind until I can hear nothing but its shrieks. All this time, my brother had been the one worrying about me, and I’d been stupid enough to believe that that meant he was invincible. All this time, I’d never thought about what might happen if things were the other way around.
“Mr. Hann would like to insist on seeing you tonight,” the man says to me now. “You’ll be very pleased to know that your brother will also be in attendance.”
DANIEL
I’m back on the streets of Lake. I don’t know how the hell I got here.
My boots splash in dirty puddles as I hurry down the familiar roads near my old home. The metal of my artificial leg feels so cold that I think it’s encased in ice. All the homes on this path are boarded up, their doors sprayed with red Xs, and the silence roars in my ears. My lips part and I try to call out for someone, anyone—but when I try to utter a sound, nothing comes out. It’s as if the world had been muted.