The Drafter

by Kim Harrison

  A flash of his angry emotion pulled her memory of it into existence, and her feelings of betrayal crowded out his anger until his emotions reasserted themselves and they found understanding. For a moment, they both looked at the memory together, seeing it from the other side, finding common ground, something they could both accept. Perhaps she’d jumped too quickly to a conclusion that was wrong. Perhaps, he thought, his emotion mixing with hers, I should have been honest with you about being on the outs with the alliance.

  “I was cuffed at the loading dock,” he said. “They shot you and triggered a draft.”

  Her eyes were shut and her body went slack as the first memory of being darted rose into existence and Silas dissolved it. She saw herself through his eyes: furious, determined, obstinate as she looked for a way to survive. She didn’t remember it that way, and she felt him take in her emotions of fear, betrayal, and desperation—and they were as real as his vision of her strength.

  “I didn’t betray you,” he whispered as he pulled her to him, and she believed him with a certainty as real as the nail in her grip. “I didn’t know they were there.”

  And as that reality became firm in her mind, her world stopped spinning. Her chest eased and her breaths came and went more easily. She drowsed, the warmth of Silas’s arms around her as their memories meshed and hers became real. There was only one draft left in her, the tiny space of double time reduced to one.

  She was at peace for what felt like the first time in months, and like an addict, she hung in a haze, not wanting it to end. “You’re good at this,” she slurred, and his hand gentled her head against his shoulder as the van swerved and jostled.

  “I used to be,” he said, his breath shifting her hair. “Go to sleep. Let it firm up. When you wake, you’ll have your entire morning back. It’s going to be okay.”

  She doubted that, but she fell asleep right there in the van, confident she would remember everything she’d lost today, holding that nail as if it were a diamond.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  Stomach clenched, Peri did a final pull-up, straining as she hung from the decorative ironwork that had been installed for the sole purpose of making the underground wine cellar look old. It couldn’t have been in place more than ten years by the look of the resort-size log house they’d hustled her through yesterday, filthy and cold from her ride in the back of the van.

  Tucked away in the Kentucky mountains, the high-tech, expansive getaway mansion only looked rustic, with its highly landscaped indoor-outdoor pool, restaurant-size kitchen, and multiple entertainment areas all connected by an engineered waterfall and subtle, state-of-the-art security system. She hadn’t seen anyone when they’d brought her through the first floor, down the elevator, and to the wine cellar, but the three stories of windows overlooking the valley had given her a view of acres of isolation that she could get lost in, figuratively and literally, if she could escape. But not without Silas.

  She dropped to the floor, Silas’s talisman nail stuffed into her boot for safe keeping pinching between her toes. There was a heating duct, but nothing had come out of it in the hours that she’d been stuck down here with the dusty reds and whites, all good but nothing exceptional. She’d checked.

  Slowly Peri collapsed to sit cross-legged on the artfully stained flagstones. Imported or manufactured? she wondered as her sweat went cold and she closed her eyes. Silas had given her a top-notch, professional defrag. She’d been lost, but she didn’t feel that way now. Even imprisoned, she was still riding the high of that one exquisite return of memory.

  Her psyche had been tampered with so badly that what should have been an easily handled draft had pushed her over the edge. She’d been in the first stages of catastrophic memory-eclipsed paranoia, totally losing it, and Silas had not only stopped it dead in its tracks, but returned her memory. He was good. Really good. And she couldn’t stop thinking about him and those few moments they’d shared at the ballpark.

  Eyes opening, Peri scanned the dimly lit, luxurious wine-tasting den past her iron-barred door. She hadn’t seen Jack since Silas’s defrag. Maybe she didn’t need him anymore. She’d never felt so much at peace, even if her life was falling apart. Again.

  The distant sound of the elevator pulled her straight. Dampening the flash of adrenaline, she steadied herself. It would’ve been helpful to have known that Silas was currently on the outs with the alliance, but even so, she doubted his accommodations were as severe as hers. As it stood, her next move hinged on whether he had told the alliance that she had a radioactive tag, shining like a lighthouse to draw Opti in. That she could hear the muted sounds of people gathering above her made her tend to believe he hadn’t.

  She had no doubt that Opti was going to track her down through her new radioactive beacon, and she was still trying to decide if she was going to warn the alliance about it or not. Much depended on whether they trusted her. She wanted out, but if they weren’t going to give her asylum, she’d be better off with Opti, where she’d have a chance to run.

  Another metallic thump, and Peri twitched, cracking an eye as she sat in a lotus position. But her eyes opened wide when she recognized the feminine voice raised in demand as Taf’s, the young woman who had been with Silas at Eastown. The daughter of the head of the alliance.

  “You’ve checked me twice. Will you back off. It’s not like you can bake a file into a batch of muffins. I didn’t even make them. Gawd!”

  The clatter of heels on flagstone vanished as Taf and two security suits strode into the carpeted wine-tasting den. Taf had a bundle of clothes in one hand, a covered basket in the other. “Lights up!” she demanded, and the dim lighting brightened against the rich décor, silent black flat screen, and informal seating around a central gas fireplace. “Make yourselves at home, gentlemen,” she said, pointing at the white couches. “Munchies are at the bar.”

  “Ma’am,” the one with glasses protested, and Taf jerked to a stop.

  “Look, Brian,” she intoned, glaring at them both until they fidgeted in their black suits. “I don’t care if you sit or stand, but you will back off. I have ten minutes, and I don’t want you hanging like vultures.”

  Peri could smell muffins, and her stomach growled.

  “Yes, ma’am. Five minutes.”

  “Ten minutes,” the blond woman protested even as she came forward. “She can’t eat in five minutes. You tell my mom they can wait. These things never start on time anyway. Someone always forgets about the time zones and they have to be tracked down.”

  Still sitting behind the barred door, Peri watched the woman drop the clothes on a nearby table so she could push one of the chairs around to face her. Only now did Taf’s bluster falter as she stood before her with the basket of muffins, and Peri cringed inside at her look of hopeful expectation, hope that Peri might remember something they’d once shared, something that was important but that she’d forgotten. “Ah, hi. Are you hungry?” the woman asked hesitantly.

  Peri got up, her muscles chilled from the cold floor. “I’m sorry. I don’t remember you. It’s Taf, right?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Most of my friends don’t remember our nights out, either.” Pinky in the air, she pantomimed sipping wine from a nonexistent glass. “Here. Fresh this morning.”

  Taf paused at the bars, then tilted the basket so it would fit between. Peri took it, the warmth through the wicker and linen liner pleasant on her fingers. “Thanks. If it helps, I know that I like you, even if I don’t know why.” Her lips quirked at the muffins. “And it has nothing to do with you bringing me breakfast. Emotions linger when events don’t.” Chuckling, she took a bite, adding, “Why am I feeling as if it has something to do with my mom?”

  Beaming now, Taf sat forward on the plush white chair, the picture of wealth and privilege as her perfectly styled hair bumped about her shoulders. “I can answer that. Both our moms are control freaks. We met at a horse event. You were asking for help to rescue Silas from Opti so he co
uld defrag some information, and my mother tried to exchange you for him instead. Howard and I rammed the van you were in to get you free. I thought that was going to be the end of it, but when you went off to rescue Silas, we came along to help.”

  The cranberries were almost burning hot, and Peri swallowed fast, enjoying their tangy sweetness. “Silas said there was a gun involved?”

  Taf nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yes. I got to shoot someone in the foot and drive the getaway car. I, ah, brought you a change of clothes,” she said as she glanced at the guards. “They should fit.”

  Peri set the basket down, wiping her fingers on her pants before reaching for the bundle. “Thank you!”

  “There’s an athletic body wipe in there, too,” Taf said, looking eager to help. “I’ve used them before in a pinch. They’re almost as good as a shower.” She turned to the guards playing with the fireplace, turning it off and on with their voice commands. “Big strong men afraid to let you shower!”

  Peri found the packet, her mood brightening. “Thank you very much!” she said, dropping back deeper into the wine cellar and out of the guards’ sight.

  “This place has twelve bathrooms, and they won’t let you into one. Barbarians.” Taf’s attention went to the guards again to make sure they kept their distance as Peri stripped to her skivvies. “I can’t bust you out this time, but I can at least help you look good for your lynching.”

  The body wipe was a spot of clean, and Peri relaxed at the chill menthol scent. “It won’t be that bad,” she said as the dampness air-dried with the heat of her body. “I’ve got something they want, they’ve got something I want. Win, win.”

  Slumped over her knees, Taf shrugged. “Silas said that chip wasn’t the list.”

  She’s been talking to Silas? The feeling of an impending something grew, but she felt almost normal as she slipped into the tailored navy blouse and slacks and buckled the tiny belt. Taf had good taste. “I’ve got more than that,” she said, coming forward as she tapped her head. “There’s no reason we can’t work together.”

  Taf’s eyes brightened, and she handed Peri a brush. “You remember?”

  “No, but it’s in there. Silas can get it out.” Peri ran the brush through her hair, then checked out her distant reflection in the bar mirror. Not her best effort, but a hundred times better. “Thank you.”

  Taf stood up, and the suits came forward. “I hope you’re right.”

  “Me too,” she said, then jumped, outraged, when a dart buried itself in her thigh.

  “What the hell is wrong with you!” Peri exclaimed as the guard with the glasses lowered a dart gun and Taf protested hotly. She immediately jerked it out, but the smooth metal against her fingertips felt fuzzy. It was too late, and the chalky taste of a jump blocker coated her tongue.

  “Maybe you shouldn’t keep busting the audio blockers,” the guard said, and she threw the dart down to look at the tear in her new slacks.

  “Those pants are Chanel,” Taf complained. “Brian, this is coming out of your paycheck. Open the door.”

  But the other agent had his stopwatch app going on his phone, and Peri knew they wouldn’t let her out until they reached some arbitrary number that made them feel safe.

  “Put them on,” Brian said, tossing in a pair of cuffs.

  Peri’s jaw clenched at the metallic ping as they slid across the flagstones.

  “No one said anything about cuffs.” Taf was furious, face red and lips in a tight line, but Peri put them on, glad they let her do it so her hands were in front instead of behind.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Peri said as the guard with the phone nodded and tucked it away. It was irritating, and they’d slow her down, but if she wanted out, she’d get out. In fact, seeing her cuffed would make them careless.

  Brian unlocked the door. Immediately Taf grabbed her arm, yanking her onto the carpet. “This way,” the young woman said, glancing back at the two men as she stalked to the elevator. The weapons of the men behind her were holstered but unsnapped. She could probably take them out with minimal risk even cuffed, but why bother when they were clearly headed upstairs?

  “If you move too fast, you’ll be shot,” Brian said, then gave her a shove. “Go.”

  He got a dark look instead of the foot in his face that she wanted, and eyeing him appraisingly, Peri stepped into the elevator.

  One of them hit the button for the fourth floor, and the panels slid shut. She only remembered seeing three floors, but then the doors opened with a cheerful ding to the window-lined, octagonal aerie she’d noticed from outside when she’d arrived. She’d thought it was only decoration, but the enormous room was at least fifty feet in diameter and was set up for high-class entertaining, with a neon-strewn bar against one side and a circular comfort pit of white couches taking up the majority of the space.

  The vista out onto the cloudy mountains was almost overwhelming, with an astounding 315-degree view, even in the light fog. It was hazy and overcast, and a line of storms threatened. A biting whiff of electronics came from the small camera on a tripod set in the middle of the circular room. Lines snaked from it to a card table, where an awkward tech guy in an off-the-rack suit fussed over two glass-technology tablets. It was clearly a teleconference, and Peri watched an aide come up a staircase, furtively crossing the camera’s line of sight to whisper in a security guard’s ear.

  Howard sat glumly at the bar under the restraint of an agent, and a confident older woman, draped in jewelry and attitude, stood beside the camera in the middle of the room, her white business dress tight and her heels making her tall. Her hair was done up in a French chignon, and before her on the couch and in front of the camera was Silas.

  Peri’s breath caught, and she stumbled to a halt on the thick rug as something struck through her. He didn’t know she was here, clearly angry, his neck red and his muscular shoulders pulling his shirt tight as he sat on the edge of the indulgent couch with his back to her and argued with that woman. Peri’s thoughts went to the note she’d written to herself not to trust anyone, and she wished she could take it back.

  “Mother, why is Peri in cuffs?” Taf said loudly, and the tech guy had a fit, waving his hands for her to be quiet.

  Silas jumped, emotion crossing his face as he turned to her. Peri moved to join him only to be pulled back. This domineering woman is Fran? The head of the alliance? Peri looked between Taf and Fran as Taf continued to argue, seeing not the resemblance, but the resentment when Fran’s cheeks reddened and she told her daughter to be quiet.

  “Shut up!” Brian barked, and she started when he poked her.

  “I haven’t said anything,” Peri protested. “Why don’t you go poke Taf? She’s the one who won’t shut up.”

  “You still maintain your actions were for the benefit of the alliance?” Fran said as Taf was pulled to the bar where Howard tried to mollify her. Fran’s attitude was so familiar that Peri felt as if she should know her, but nothing was clicking.

  “I do.” Silas shifted on the couch so he could see Peri. It put him at odds with the camera, and the tech guy made an exasperated sigh and went to adjust it.

  “From our first encounter in February, Peri Reed has been looking for asylum from the same corrupt Opti faction that we’re trying to eradicate. My actions and those of the people with me were to prevent her from being returned to Opti—where she would be scrubbed and remade into what they wanted. Our actions were never intended to betray the alliance but to prevent a mistake that would set us back another three years. It’s time to end this, Fran.”

  “I agree,” the woman said with so much bile and frustration, a sudden doubt erased Peri’s confidence. Something was going wrong. “But let’s finish with you first. You ran with her, Denier. After you were instructed to bring her back in. You refused to disclose where she was until we could do nothing. How do you explain that?”

  Silas’s expression was peeved. “You were hell-bent on giving her back to Opti. I never agreed to tha
t.”

  Fran took a step closer, almost in front of the camera. “That’s where she belongs. She doesn’t have what we need to bring Opti down, and I don’t think she ever will.”

  Peri’s lips pressed. Clearing her throat, she said loudly, “I do. I simply need Dr. Denier’s help to dig it out.”

  “On the couch . . . ,” the tech guy bitched. “Say it in front of the camera on the couch. The mic doesn’t pick up the back of the room.”

  “Then tell grabby fingers here to let go of me,” Peri said, yanking out of the agent’s grip again. I’m going to take those glasses of yours and shove them up your nose.

  Fran waved the tech guy back to his station. “You’ll have a chance to state your case shortly, Ms. Reed. Please refrain from comment until then.”

  “I should be allowed the opportunity to regain my memory before an inquiry,” Peri said loudly, and the woman narrowed her eyes. “That’s what this is, isn’t it?”

  “If there are enough credible witnesses, your recalling your actions won’t factor in,” she said, then turned to Silas. “Nothing has been changed by what you have said. You’ll join Howard in protective custody until such time as we can be certain of your loyalties.”

  “My loyalty is to the alliance,” Silas exclaimed, but an agent had come forward at Fran’s directive and pulled him to his feet. The screen on the tech’s temporary desk showed only an empty couch, but the chat room associated with it was busy.

  Peri’s gut clenched as they forced Silas to sit at the bar beside Howard and Taf. Her past made her appear both guilty and untrustworthy, and her association with Silas wasn’t helping.

  “Your actions show that your loyalty is to yourself,” Fran said, gesturing for security to bring Peri forward to take Silas’s place.

  “Thinking for oneself does not imply disloyalty,” Silas said, but it was likely no one outside the room heard him. “She thought she was giving us the information we needed,” he added as Brian manhandled her forward. “She shouldn’t be standing before you justifying her actions. She should be in conference with you to bring Opti down!”