“I’ll let you know,” he said.
Sarabelle gave him a skeptical look before retreating up the stairwell. “You’re lucky to be a dog,” Kade said to Goldie, who glanced up with an expression that was surely the canine equivalent of a shrug.
Kade entered the kitchen and liberated a container of suspicious-looking chunks from the fridge. He struggled to remain awake while the meal whirled in the microwave. A concluding ping drew him back into alertness.
Yawning, he deposited the steaming contents into a plastic bowl. He ate in front of his desk, stabbing one rubbery lump after another, and stared at the article on his screen.
Had Sarabelle been tinkering with it in his absence? The fifth paragraph seemed different somehow—
Goldie snuffed, a powerful, explosive sound.
“Dust in your nose, boy?”
Goldie snorted in frustration and batted his snout. A puppyish gesture that evoked memories of the way Ash had used to play with him. She’d loved to roll him across the floor, turning him into a squirming, black-and-brown ball of fur and claws…
Why the fuck had Nikolas taken them to the grave tonight? Her name seemed so apt now that she was choking him, making his eyes sting. Even the food seemed flavorless on his scorched tongue.
He would have loved to show her this stupid article. She’d have laughed at his subtle jokes, frowned at his poetic excesses, noted where his arguments were unclear. Even a week later, she’d have sprung on him with some unexpected contribution.
I was thinking about another way you could end that article, if you still weren’t happy with it…
Though Lexi had never cared much for his writing, she too had found ways to build up his pride. She’d let him into her rough, adventurous lifestyle, taken him to clubs, introduced him to people she knew. This is Kade, she’d say, he’s my best friend.
If they’d laughed—which they often did—she’d snarl at them. Sometimes, there had been violence on his behalf, and he’d watch the ensuing skirmish with a mixture of horror and gratitude. But sometimes, they hadn’t laughed. Sometimes, Lexi had introduced him to girls who smiled as if they didn’t know. This one’s straight, Kade. Trust me, I’ve tried. Definitely into guys only. You should go for it.
He was crying now. Couldn’t pinpoint when he’d started.
He opened a drawer, took out a flask of something, tasted it. Sharp in his mouth, hot in his throat. Maybe more would muddy his mind. Dull the ache.
Goldie’s big, melancholy eyes reminded him somehow of Callie Roux. What would she say about his past? Would she stammer and stumble on all the wrong things? So you were born a… When did you decide… What did your parents call… So, do you have a, uh, you know…
No. Not Callie. She’d say: That’s cool. We’re all a little different. Something nice like that. He’d still never tell her, but it was reassuring to imagine.
Poor, daredevil Callie, with her selfless loyalty to Mineko. What could those two really have in common? Callie was instinctive, expressive, and content with small things, whereas Mineko was cerebral, reserved, and ambitious. She’d stunned Kade with the breathtaking intelligence in her cool green eyes, the quiet resolve in her voice. She was reminiscent of Nikolas, Ash, Lachlan. Rare people with the quality of leadership.
Lachlan…
Did he ever feel guilty? He had duped Kade, Sarabelle, and Mahesh for three years, yet he had always been honest about his disdain. His Codist education often made him sound arrogant, even pompous, but under all his verbosity was a bitter lyrical streak. Like Lexi, he had an eye for absurd detail, a determination to speak his mind and an incisive quickness of wit. Betrayer though he was, it was tough not having him around.
Codism was like an infection that never quite healed. There were several ex-Codists in the underground, and all of them were eccentric—forever haunted by their social blueprint. It was the reason Nikolas was afraid to trust Mineko. The reason Amity wouldn’t be satisfied until she saw the enclaves burning.
Bat-fucking-shit crazy, Sarabelle had said.
It couldn’t have been further from the truth. There wasn’t a drop of madness in Amity, not a hint of anything but remorseless sanity. Besides, it wasn’t as if Kade were a saint. He’d taken two lives himself this week. A brutal, racist gangster and some anonymous Codist on a motorcycle.
So much violence. Enacted by him, enacted for him. Starting from the very beginning, when Lexi had fought on his behalf, so lithe that not even the biggest street bullies could take her. She slipped right out of their hands, came back so fast and vicious they didn’t know how to respond.
Don’t come back here again, or I’ll fuck you up twice as bad…
But Ash had never hurt anyone. She’d been too gentle. He’d loved to stroke her long blonde hair, feeling the delicate shape of her head, while she tilted her face nearer and murmured his name.
His name…
They’d been waiting for Lexi outside an old rail station. Ash had looked him in the eye, begun to speak, and then faltered. Paused. Taken a deep breath. Kade had understood in a terrible instant: Lexi’d told her.
He’d frozen, longing for some escape that might deter his humiliation.
But then Ash had smiled.
Why didn’t you tell me your real name was Kade?
A nose bumped his leg. A quiet whimper. Goldie.
“Hi, puppy.” Each word rasped through the pinhole of his throat. “Don’t worry about me.”
CHAPTER 24
As a child, Mineko had spent many nights under her blanket, hiding from the agents who’d wiped her tutor. She remembered his forbidden stories even if he didn’t, which surely meant they’d come for her next.
Now, with nowhere else to turn, she’d returned to her old sanctuary.
It should have felt absurd, an adult swaddled like a baby, but the snug darkness proved as comforting as before. If only she could be buried this way forever. How had Valerie managed to endure this nightmare for so long? What stopped her leaping off that balcony of hers?
The door opened. “Min?” said Kaori. “Is that you under there?”
“No.”
“What are you doing? Are you masturbating?”
Mineko flung back the blankets. “I am not.”
“You’re a funny thing. I’m glad you’ve decided to stay the night, even if you’re wasting it fantasizing about that red-headed boy of yours.”
“I told you, I wasn’t masturbating.” Mineko slipped from the bed and smoothed her blanket flat. “I was thinking about my exams, in fact.”
“How disappointing. Anyway, your father has a date with the Committee, so it’s just you and me at dinner. Maybe we can bring out a bottle of that juice you like so much and watch a good movie.”
“A romance movie, you mean.”
“There’s a new one with a very hunky male lead. I was involved in the production, believe it or not. The lead plays a young officer, and I had to give permission for the fictional portrayal. Including use of the uniform. Not that he’s always wearing it in the film, if you know what I mean…”
“You make it sound pornographic.”
“The camera is on his naked torso for about five seconds. But when you see those abs, you’ll agree they’re the finest five seconds of a woman’s life.” Kaori leered. “I could always arrange a date. I’m not sure how I feel about an actor being a Tamura, but your children would be gorgeous.”
Mineko stopped fussing with the blanket—it was all an act anyway, as if she gave a damn about how neat the bed was—and moved to the window, where she stood with her arms folded. No doubt her mother assumed she was sulking like a child, unable as always to distinguish between petulance and justified indignation. “I don’t care for abs.”
“Daughter, you’re raving.”
“Lachlan was here earlier. His manner seemed odd.”
“He was around? I must have missed him. Something went wrong with an operation, and he’s likely to get a slap on the wrist.”
“Yes, it is. Though I have to say, you’re not usually so interested in the family business.”
“The family business isn’t always so colorful. I recall a man with spikes on his head. And a white-haired woman.”
“Lurid characters, yes. But quite depraved.”
“Not like you, with your healthy love for abs.”
“Mineko.” Kaori spoke her name like a word of reproach. “You’ve always been so reserved. Some of my friends would say sullen. Yet I know you’ve a generous heart, an insightful mind and a deep love of learning. Maybe you’d be happier if you directed your instincts in a more fruitful direction. All this philosophy is only making you doubt yourself.”
“The Code is an ethical system. How is it not fruitful to study ethics?”
“The Code is…” Kaori fell silent, her gaze moving between the gray-breasted birds flitting in the garden. “The Code can be misleading. We Tamuras are more important than other Codists. Think about it this way. The little finger and the thumb both belong to the hand, but if you had to lose a digit, you wouldn’t choose the thumb.”
“I don’t think that analogy would go down well in my exam.”
“If the Code is a hand, we Tamuras are the thumb. Obeying ethics, let alone studying them, only diminishes us. We exist to wield power.”
Did Kaori really not realize how sinister that sounded? “I don’t care for wielding power either.”
“Why not? Our ancestors fought for it. They were Codifiers. Their name means something, and when I married your father, I only allowed him to take it because he had the right character.” Kaori squeezed Mineko’s shoulder. “So do you.”
“What have I ever done to deserve anything? I was born into this.”
Kaori released Mineko only to grip her again, as if unwilling to relinquish that small contact. “You should tell me more about your world. Your life. Lachlan says that you and I look like sisters, the shameless flatterer. I think we ought to behave like them. You shouldn’t have secrets from me.”
“What’s the point? I spoke to Dad before, and no matter what I said about my feelings, he told me it was part of a phase.”
“He means well, but he’s a man. They tend to be thoughtless.”
“If men are so thoughtless, what’s the appeal?”
Kaori chuckled. “Do I really have to spell it out?”
Treat me like a sister, she had said. Don’t keep secrets. Well, fine. It hardly mattered anymore.
“To be truthful,” Mineko said, “I find men very boring.”
“What about that redhead of yours?”
“Maybe I invented him to cover some dark secret.” It was like talking with the barrel of a gun in her mouth, the trigger tightening with every word. “Maybe it’s women I find interesting.”
The playful smile slipped from Kaori’s face. “That isn’t funny, Mineko.”
“But I’m the thumb, remember? If I want to see a woman with her shirt off, nobody should be able to stop me.” Mineko laughed—having leapt off the edge, nothing was easier than to keep falling—and gave Kaori a teasing nudge. “If only you could see your face right now.”
“Are you teasing me? You are teasing me, aren’t you?”
“I’m only trying to get a direct answer from you. If we Tamuras are diminished by ethics, why can’t I marry a woman?”
“Because the Code—”
Mineko arched an eyebrow. “The Code can be misleading.”
“Oh, very funny. The fact is, two women aren’t designed to—”
“Designed? Are you a theist now?”
“You know what I mean! This is one of your awful classroom thought experiments, isn’t it? You know very well you’re being absurd, but you want to see me struggle to prove it.”
“Yes, Mother. I’ve trapped you in a web of logic and doubt, because I’m a Tamura, and I reign over whatever my dominion may be. And ethics is mine. So please stop questioning my choice of vocation and instead concede that I’m suited to it.”
“You’re so like your father. You look like me, but you speak like him. And you’ve always been so stern.” Kaori’s smile made a tentative return. “I was always so afraid I’d done something wrong raising you. My mother called you ‘the little grump.’ I longed for a smile, a laugh from my baby girl. Tell me, Min, have I lost you? Have you really grown old so fast?”
Only moments before, Mineko had hated Kaori. Now she pitied her so deeply, her chest hurt from it. “I’m still your little grump, Mom.”
Kaori fumbled for Mineko’s hand and held it tight. “I’m sorry if I made a bad impression. I just so badly want things to work out for you. You have so much potential.” She took a deep breath. “I need to instruct the staff about dinner. What do you want? It can be anything my clever girl likes.”
“I don’t mind. Surprise me.”
“I have a few ideas.” Kaori smiled with more assurance, and Mineko’s ache intensified. This infuriating, interfering mother—impossible to live with, impossible to imagine a life without. “And I’ll decide on a different movie. Now that I think about it, I’m tired of always watching romances.”
Mineko waited for the door to shut before letting her grief escape in a single sob. There was nothing she wanted more than to escape from all this, but God, how she loved them.
* * *
Dawn striped the shutters. Mineko had dreamed, but she recalled nothing but a sensation of loss.
She took the watch from her writing desk, walked to the window, opened the shutters—if a gardener happened to glance up and see the young Tamura in her underwear, good for them—and inhaled. The air harbored a frost that stirred her blood as her lungs expanded.
As she breathed, she stroked the watch’s cover. Memories of her friends returned in vivid detail. Paradoxes, all of them. Selfish, gentle Zeke. Brooding, joyful Callie. Arrogant, protective Lexi. And Kade, who had entered her life as a terror and left as an inspiration—a man suggestive of quiet mysteries, depths Mineko would never know.
How many mornings could she hold this timepiece and keep from crying? What was the point of all her courage if she never directed it toward what she truly wanted?
Beyond the floral hills and groves of the district, past that towering wall, was the sky she’d seen on the day Callie had driven her through the desert: a brilliant dome above a wasteland, from which Foundation appeared only as a line on the horizon. There was no grass there, only soil dried to dust the color of sand and bone. Yet it was beautiful because it was endless. Because nobody had yet thought to enclose it.
Yes, Mineko loved her parents, which was why she had to save them from the prison they’d created. Yes, she was a Codist—a Tamura—but that only made her responsibility all the more pressing. She had to flee, but not to save herself.
It was her duty now to liberate everyone.
She dressed. Each button she fastened seemed to increase the constriction in her throat, and sealing the collar left her breathless. But when she looked at the mirror and saw herself consumed again by formless blue fabric, a rush of air filled her chest. The time had come.
Callie would rescue her. It had been a promise. And as Mineko closed her hand around the watch and felt it tick in her palm, she had no doubt that promise would soon be kept.
* * *
For the first time, the cleanliness of the campus subway station appalled her. Plastic and steel surfaces gleamed under light panels that emitted a warm, constant glow. Not a trace of dirt. In fact, the platform’s blue and silver tiles—laid out as an ornate spiral mosaic—were being swept even as Mineko walked through. The janitor, an elderly man in a dark brown overall, seemed aware only of the broom in his hands. A sharp whisk to the left, a quick sweep to the right, a pointless repetition on a spotless floor.
The escalator carried her upward, as monotonous and unthinking as the world around it, and she tasted the sharp scent of the white blossoms tha
t dotted the trees around campus.
What kind of trees were they? Why had Mineko never thought to wonder that before? Did they exist anywhere else in the world or had Codism alone preserved them? If there was one upside to her people’s ecological excesses, it was that they kept alive species that would otherwise be extinct.
A student walking alongside her stopped short. Mineko glanced ahead. Oh, God—what were they doing here? Two Intel agents stood where the path curved around a flowerbed, both youthful but still suitably grim and officious in their black uniforms.
The duo nodded at Mineko, and she gave them a smile that trembled on her lips. No good. She had to focus.
The main lawn, usually a place of chatter and play, was silent. A dark figure sat upon a stone wall, watching a group of students who kept a respectful distance. Everyone looked glum. Little wonder. Nothing was more frightening than seeing these creatures in the innocent heartland of Codist learning. Wherever a black uniform was sighted, it meant somebody had misbehaved, and what if that were a friend, a study partner, a tutor? Had a wrong answer been expressed in some essay, an inappropriate thought raised in a seminar?
Steeling herself, Mineko marched across the lawn. The agent on the wall looked in her direction. She knew this one—Jasmine Turani, a quiet, serious young woman who had been working her way up the ranks. She’d even earned the privilege of attending several dinners at the Tamura household.
Mineko gave a curt nod. “Hello, Jasmine.”
“Good morning, Ms. Tamura.” With her penetrating topaz-brown eyes, flawless copper skin, strong jaw, and regal nose, Jasmine looked—at least in Mineko’s imagination—the way the stone warrior woman might if some sorcerer had brought to her life. Despite her sultry good looks, however, she was unfailingly modest and polite.
“I can’t imagine why my father has you here, of all places.”
“It wasn’t his order, ma’am. We’ve been posted by Mr. Reed.”
An indiscreet answer, but not unexpected. Intel agents often showed deference to Mineko, no doubt assuming it would benefit their career at some point. Today, that dynamic might work in her favor.
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