Deprecated

by Michael Karr

  Permanently remove her grandfather from the Deprecation list? And let Preston go free? How could she hope for anything more. Except…

  “How do I know you’ll keep your word?” she said.

  “You don’t,” he said, and then leaned in menacingly. “But, if you don’t, I can guarantee neither one will make it through the end of the week.”

  The CA stared at her, and Rylee stared straight back. She knew he spoke the truth. His cold, hard eyes told her that he wouldn’t hesitate for a moment. This was a man who was willing to kill his own son. She looked away.

  “What will happen to me?” she whispered, not really wanting to know.

  “Miss Day, you can’t possibly be hoping for salvation now. You’re much too deep in.”

  Involuntarily, Rylee shuddered. It was all too clear to her. The CA planned to frame her for the murders, or at least as an accomplice. A scapegoat. And, unless she was willing to let her grandfather and Preston face Deprecation, there was absolutely nothing she could do to about it.

  “I’m giving you forty-eight hours, Miss Day,” the CA said, leaving his perch on the front of his desk and strolling around to sit in his own chair. “If it eases your own conscience about killing my son, you should know that he’s not without his own level of culpability in the murders. In fact, he played a rather vital role. It’s unfortunate that he must die, but it’s the way things are. I’ve finally come to peace with the decision, I’m sure you can too. Now,” he added, standing again, “if you don’t mind, the Chief of Regulation is downstairs waiting for you.” He held out his hand for her to accompany him out of the office.

  THIRTY-THREE

  Grayson now knew his father was behind the string of murders among the Enhanced. He knew it. Those dead included Grayson’s best friend, Lander. The thought made him squeeze his hands into fists. Even though he wasn’t a fighter—not like that, anyway. He would fight back, in his own way. Bring down his father.

  The fact that he was still alive baffled him. Sure, he’d been hiding until tonight. But his father had just held him in his control and let him go. Well, technically he wasn’t free. Not so long as he remained in his father’s building. As he considered it, though, he knew his father wouldn’t do anything to him now. Nothing that would bring suspicion to the illustrious Chief Administrator’s head.

  No, his father would devise some other means. If he hoped to stay alive, he’d have to figure out by what means. And soon.

  That was something he couldn’t worry about right now. He still needed to know how his father was getting away with the murders. Lander’s work. If only he could get to Lander’s office…

  Only one problem with that plan. Miles. One of his father’s bodyguards. Of course, his father hadn’t trusted Grayson to return to the main floors and talk with Chief O’Connor on his own. That’s why he ordered Miles to escort him.

  Fighting or outrunning Miles were absurd ideas. How Rylee had fared so well against two of his father’s men still amazed him.

  “I need to stop by my apartment,” Grayson said, intentionally not making it sound as though he were asking for permission. “It will only take a minute.”

  “That’s not what your father instructed,” Miles replied.

  “Yeah, well, since when have I followed my father’s instructions?” They stepped into the elevator and Grayson pressed the button for the sixty-fifth floor. “Don’t worry, I won’t snitch.”

  Beside him, Miles frowned and let out a little growl of annoyance. But the man didn’t argue further. There were some perks to being the CA’s son.

  The elevator opened, and they stepped out into Grayson’s apartment. A wave of remorse and longing washed over Grayson as he strode in. Though less than two weeks had passed since he’d run away, it felt as if he’d been gone for a year. He ached to go indulge in a long, steamy shower, then collapse onto the sofa and fall asleep. For a few moments, he might have been able to pretend that everything in his life wasn’t garbled beyond recognition.

  Things wouldn’t ever be back to normal. Not now. Not with Lander gone. Never again would he walk into this room and catch Lander lost in his infamous virtual conquests. Never again.

  Grayson shook his head, pushing away these thoughts. He wasn’t here to reminisce, or even to take a shower.

  “I just need to grab a few items,” he said, walking over to the kitchen.

  “Like another one of your EMPs?” Miles replied, falling in behind him. “I’m not letting you out of my sight, Steele.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to follow me into the bathroom? Is my dad paying you enough for that?”

  Miles grunted.

  Grayson wasn’t entirely sure his father earned such loyalty from Miles and the other bodyguards, or if it was the result of PNU preconditioning. Brainwashing.

  Walking over to his dresser, he opened up one of the drawers, and started rummaging around. Out the corner of his eyes, he saw Miles tense. “Relax,” he said, as he pulled out a few pairs of boxer shorts. “You won’t believe how badly I need a fresh pair of underwear.” He shook his head as he screwed up his face in disgust. “I’m actually going commando right now. That’s how bad it got.” Though he did—desperately—need clean undergarments, he mainly hoped this diversion would put Miles off his guard a little.

  “I don’t want to hear about your hygiene problems,” Mile said. “If you’re finished, let’s go.”

  “Just need to stop at the throne. Coming?”

  “I’ll wait outside the door,” Miles grumbled.

  Grayson tsked. “My father would be so disappointed in your lack of commitment.”

  Once inside the bathroom, Grayson locked the door and focused his PNU. He’d spent a considerable amount of energy just keeping his nerves under control at the party, and trying to protect Rylee without drawing suspicion. A failed effort. The EMP did its job well, but it instantly put his father’s men on alert once the effects wore off.

  If only he could have used his RARA virus to ease them out of it…But there was no way he could override that many PNUs simultaneously. His brain would have overheated in a matter of moments. That is, if his PNU didn’t run out of power first. No, it was best done targeting one or two others. His PNU could handle the extra load of just one target. One target was simple. A target like Miles.

  When Grayson opened the bathroom door and walked out, Miles didn’t say anything. Miles didn’t follow him. Not even when Grayson pushed the button of the elevator, and stepped inside. And he wasn’t going to. Because Miles didn’t see Grayson leave. He only saw a closed bathroom door, from which the occasional grunting noise emanated.

  * * *

  Rylee didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Had the CA of the Alliance really just blackmailed her into murdering his own son? Was Grayson truly guilty of involvement in the murders? If so, he deserved to die. They all deserved to die. Every last Elect. Just as she’d always believed. Why had she trusted Grayson?

  Chief O’Connor pounced as soon as they emerged from the labs. The CA fended her off.

  “Let the poor girl be, Miss O’Connor,” he said, putting his arm around Rylee’s shoulder and moving her through the press of Regulators. “You can interrogate her another time. She’s had a very traumatic night. And I take full responsibility. For it was at my own party.”

  O’Connor did not give up so easily, though. “Need I remind you that there is a dead body in your hallway? This is a homicide. And it is my duty to investigate it.”

  The CA turned and pointed his finger at O’Connor. “There’s nothing here to investigate. A young lady was attacked by some sicko. And she defended herself. We should all be grateful she was prepared for it.”

  “With all due respect, sir, it is my job to determine whether or not this was a simple matter of self-defense.”

  “No, Miss O’Connor, your job is to ensure the people are safe. Safe from the individual responsible for murdering my people. And so far you’re doing a pathetic job of
it. Now, let the girl go. You’re just embarrassing yourself.”

  Chief O’Connor stared back at him, her eyes narrowed disdainfully. But she didn’t reply. Lifting her chin sharply, she turned and retreated.

  Rylee was relieved to see the woman leave. Though, why that was, she didn’t know. The CA was the one to fear. He was the monster killing off his own citizens. To O’Connor’s face, he’d accused her of failing to find the murderer. If she only knew that he was standing right in front of her…

  Grayson was nowhere to be seen. No surprise there. It figured that he’d abandon her now. Truth be told, she didn’t want to see him. She still didn’t know what she thought about him. Other than the fact that she hated him. Better to not think anything. Not feel anything. It would make killing him less painful.

  Partygoers gaped at her as she and the CA descended the stairs and retrieved Rylee’s coat. For the first time that night, she wondered how she looked. With a discreet glance, she noted that her dress—Adrianna’s dress—was torn. The pretty Elect would be upset for certain. Rylee didn’t care. Let Adrianna be livid with her. Let the whole world be livid with her. It didn’t matter. Nothing could make things worse than they already were. So, let everyone gawk.

  The CA helped her into her coat.

  She let him. She shouldn’t let him. She should break each of the five fingers touching her. She should denounce the CA in front of all these people. She knew it would be useless. Knew that whatever she said, he’d find a way to discredit it. He was the CA. He controlled the Alliance. Just like he controlled O’Connor. Just like he was controlling her now.

  A black car pulled up in front of the building and the CA helped her into the back. “See that you get plenty of rest,” he said, his voice sounding incredibly sincere. “And please let me know if there’s anything further I can do for you. Rest assured, Chief O’Connor shall not molest you further.” And with that, he smiled a smile so warm that it gave Rylee the chills. Then he closed the door, and the driverless car drove away.

  Rylee sat back in the plush seat. The cool leather felt soothing on her overheated skin. Her mind felt fatigued, overworked from the events of the night. She needed another of Serghei’s Mountain Dews.

  Through her PNU, the car requested a destination. Home. She wanted to go home. She wanted to forget this night had ever happened. She wanted to eat cold beans and listen to her grandfather give meaningless prayers and shiver herself to sleep on her cold cot.

  She gave the location of her housing unit to the car. In response, it turned to the right, heading in the direction of the slums.

  Closing her eyes, Rylee attempted to shut out the cruel world she saw outside the car’s windows. Her PNU did not comply. It allowed her to recall everything with sickening clarity. Did the PNU have the ability to make her forget everything?

  Without warning, the car screeched to a stop. Rylee leaned forward sharply, pulled by the force of her momentum. She quickly glanced around for the cause of the sudden stop. Ahead, cast in the white glow of the car’s headlights stood Grayson.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Carmine chafed with each step she took, as if Mr. Steele’s words had transformed her satin dress into sandpaper. She’d had enough of his condescending treatment, his outright scorn of her handling of the investigation. She refused to cow to him any longer.

  Something about that girl…the circumstances of the attack, and—most of all—Steele’s emphatic defense of her was not right. Why hadn’t he allowed her to ask a few simple questions? At the very least, she would have liked the girl’s PNU profile. As it was, she didn’t even know the girl’s last name. Leah, was what William Steele had called the girl. The only records returned from her database search of Enhanced citizens with that first name returned a girl a few weeks shy of being Enhanced.

  This could not be the same. For the girl tonight—Leah—was clearly Enhanced. Had the name been an alias? A moniker? If so, who was she really? A girl who knew how to use a handgun, that was for certain.

  Mr. Steele had told Carmine to leave the girl alone. No, he did more than that. He tried to manipulate her—bully her—into dropping her interest in the girl. Could it be that he was hiding something? Forcing her off the trail of a potentially important lead, by humiliating her in front of her officers? Perhaps. The idea felt too conspiratorial. She saw no clear connection between what had occurred tonight and the murders she was investigating.

  It could be an utter waste of time. At this point though, if it defied Steele, she would gladly take that risk.

  Below her, the party throbbed like a living creature, mostly oblivious to the drama that had unfolded a short while before. Mounting the stairs that led to the main floor of Steele Tower, she sent a message to one of her commanders. Follow the girl.

  * * *

  Rylee wondered if her car would obey her if she ordered it to run over Grayson. She didn’t do it. Before she knew it, Grayson was climbing into the back seat of the car. He sat down next to her, and the car rolled onward.

  “Well, that didn’t go quite as smooth as I planned,” Grayson said. He let out a half-hearted chuckle.

  Rylee just looked out the windows, feeling her anger rising just to hear his voice. That voice which had lied to her. Were there more lies waiting to spew out of his mouth? Technically, he hadn’t said any lies. She understood that. They were all unspoken lies.

  A sin of omission is no better than a sin of commission. A lesson her grandfather often liked to refresh her on.

  “Solely out of curiosity,” he said, “what exactly happened with that Elect? You know, the one you shot in the chest? We all heard the gunshots.”

  “You tell me what happened,” she bit back. “Some slime-ball pokes my arm with something, and suddenly he’s luring me away like I’m his personal slave.”

  “Ah, I see now. He gave you a nanotronic sedative—of sorts. He couldn’t control you, exactly. Just render you more…compliant.” He sighed heavily. “I’m really sorry about that. I didn’t…I can’t tell you how worried I was when I heard that gunshot.”

  “Thanks so much for your concern. Don’t worry, I kept to your stupid plan, despite that creep. Little good that it did.”

  “I didn’t mean…” he trailed off, pausing. When he spoke again, his tone was colder. “So, did my father turn you against me so easily, then? I’m very aware of how persuasive—even manipulative—my father can be. He always sprinkles some truth with his lies. It can be difficult to tease the two apart.”

  “A trait you seem to have inherited,” she snapped, still not looking at him. If only she had a loaded gun right now, she’d be sorely tempted to do exactly what the CA asked of her. Unfortunately, though the gray suits had returned Adrianna’s gun to her, she didn’t have any more ammunition. Adrianna really needed another thigh holster to carry an extra magazine or two.

  “That’s a fair accusation,” he said. “I deserve that, and worse. At least give me a chance to defend myself. I think I at least deserve that.”

  “You deserve a bullet to the head. You and every other Elect. Maybe not Adrianna. But only because she gave me her pistol.”

  “Good,” he said. “I’m glad we’re back to how things used to be between us. It was starting to get awkward not having you threaten my life all the time.”

  “Keep being a jerk,” she said. “It will make things less complicated for me.”

  Outside the car, the lights of the Elect sector vanished as the car crossed the threshold into the slums, plunging them into darkness. To keep anyone from seeing the car, she ordered it to turn off its headlights, making the darkness complete.

  “Hey,” Grayson replied, “I’m just doing what apparently I’m best at. By the way, you did look stunning tonight. I’m trying to make up my mind about whether it will be nicer or worse to die at the hand of a pretty girl. At the moment, I’m leaning toward better. That way, the last thing I see in this life wouldn’t be some ugly dude’s face.”

  Rylee’s heart
stuttered. Did he know what his father wanted her to do? How could he? He wasn’t there. Perhaps he’d figured it out on his own. The CA was Grayson’s father, after all. Twisted brains thought alike. But if he knew that, why wasn’t he running? If he thought that she wouldn’t do it…

  “Your silence is not very reassuring,” Grayson said, after a few moments.

  She didn’t reply. What should she say? Her thoughts and emotions were in a fierce battle—and she had no idea which side was winning.

  “I know I don’t deserve it,” he went on. “But would you at least tell me what my father said, so that I can have a chance to defend myself? I can probably guess at it, but I’d rather hear his side first.”

  There was a pause. Rylee deliberated. She knew she shouldn’t say anything. If Grayson managed to shatter her current impression of him, it would make it all the more difficult for her to save Preston. Almost against her will, though, she found herself speaking. “He said you developed the virus that’s been killing the Elects. Is that true?”

  “Unfortunately, I believe it is. In part, anyway. I was a…somewhat innocent player in my father’s scheme.”

  “Somewhat?”

  He let out an audible sigh. “For some time, Lander and I have done special coding projects for my father. My father doesn’t ever tell us what a particular piece of code is for. But usually, I figure it out. Sometimes, like this time, it’s after the fact. However, it’s never been anything so serious. I expected it to be the usual fare: blackmailing an Advisory Board member, spying on a potential threat, doing cover-up—nothing I’m proud of. If there’s anything I’ve learned from my father, it’s that running the Alliance is a messy business. But I swear, I had no idea my father would use my work the way he did—to murder.”

  “You created a virus capable of killing other Elects for your father and you didn’t think he’d use it to kill?” It was an absurd idea. If Grayson knew his father so well, he’d know what his father was planning.