by Brenda Poppy
Her mission clear in her mind, Burn lowered her gaze and trained it on their destination. It was difficult to miss, with its array of glass rooms lit up like a beacon in the night and hordes of finely dressed people making their way to its entrance.
Kaz and Burn joined the crowd filtering into the building, queuing behind a stout man with a blue sash and sharp woman with a long feather stretching from her hat. From this vantage point, Burn could make out even more details about the house and its adjoining estate.
The residence itself appeared to be three stories tall. With the exception of the Peace Station, it was the largest building Burn had ever seen. She wondered how one family could possibly make use of all that space. The crowded lane obscured her view into the ground floor windows, but she could make out an extravagant living room and kitchen on the second story, with more rooms branching off behind them. The third floor was dark, but Burn surmised that it likely housed bedrooms and personal spaces for each of the family’s members.
To the left of the house was a sprawling terrace with a garden, although not in the traditional sense of flowers and trees and riotous color. This was a stone garden, a dead place full of cold sculptures and sharp metal art. In the flimsy light cast on it from the house, it looked menacing, like a threatening field that had been drained of color and left as a warning.
Burn looked away, a chill creeping up her spine. Kaz eyed her inquisitively, as if sensing her unease, but she reassured him with a small nod. The pair hadn’t spoken since stepping into this strange new world, as if a single word might break its spell. Or maybe, like Burn, Kaz didn’t know how to put into words the awe and revulsion and unease he felt warring inside. Or, more likely, Burn thought enviously, he was just taking it all in, enjoying the moment and the crisp air and the pretty girl on his arm.
The woman in front of them, the one with the pointed features and quivering feather, glanced back at Burn and frowned, audibly tsk-ing in disapproval. Burn, confused, looked down at herself then up at Kaz, who wore a similarly bewildered expression.
A sudden fit of laughter bubbled up inside of Burn, due to some combination of his look and her nerves and the utter absurdity of the whole evening, and she had to clutch her hands to her mouth to contain it. Kaz caught her eye and silently mimicked woman’s disapproving sneer, and the pair dissolved into an audible fit of giggles that had several heads turning in their direction.
The spell – or curse – that had held the pair in thrall lifted, and some of Burn’s tension eased. Feeling lighter than she had since the evening began, Burn returned her arm to Kaz’s and the pair made their way forward.
The crowd converged at the home’s grand front entrance. Several armed officers manned the doors, assisted in their endeavors by revolving portals that scanned each guest before allowing entry. Burn was familiar with the portals, which had made a prominent appearance in her anxious worries. They not only scanned your body and belongings, but also your face and fingerprints, almost instantaneously comparing them against the entire Peace Force database of criminals and suspected terrorists.
Even though Burn knew that the portals would not be able to see into her handbag or detect her hidden comms unit, she was still worried as she approached the whirring machines. It was entirely possible that Cross has marked her as a suspected terrorist in their system and that her presence would be flagged immediately. If that happened, she was done for. In this crowd, there was no easy means of escape. The best she could hope for was getting thrown out – although she doubted they would be that kind.
Kaz breezed through the machine with no trouble. He waited on the other side as Burn crossed through, her nerves fizzing under her skin. But the machine made no noise, no alert that she had been flagged as suspicious. She breathed a sigh of relief and began making her way to Kaz.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” came a deep voice behind Burn, startling her. Gulping, she turned around to find a burly man with curly dark hair whose muscles bulged menacingly through his dark suit. Unable to speak, all she could do was gaze up at him questioningly.
“Could I please see your bag?” he asked, his tone unreadable. Mutely, Burn handed over her reticule.
She cursed her stupidity. She never should have come. This was far too dangerous a mission to undertake, especially alone. Maybe Hale had been right from the beginning. Maybe violence was the answer.
As her head spun with worry, the man stuck his beefy fingers into the bag, drawing out her lipstick, her cash card, and her glasses. He fished around some more and found the tin of mints, opening the container to examine them. With interest, he grabbed one of the “mints” and was about to place it into his mouth when Burn spoke up.
“Be careful!” she shouted. The guard glanced at her, his hand halfway to his mouth and confusion contorting his troll-like features.
Scrambling for a suitable explanation for her outburst, Burn continued, “They’re cinnamon.” She prayed to any god who would listen that this man hated cinnamon. She didn’t think it would go over well if his head randomly exploded in front of the city’s most powerful – and most well-armed – inhabitants.
Frowning, the man returned the mint to the tin and closed it, clumsily stuffing the items back into the bag and handing it to Burn. She forced a smile and threw him a curt “thank you” before joining Kaz.
That was a close one, she thought as two servants held the doors open and ushered them inside. She would have to talk to Scar about that particular product design. Maybe exploding coins would be more practical. Or an exploding key. Something people didn’t automatically want to put in their mouths.
Her thoughts continued in that vein as another pair of servants took their goggles, masks, and cloaks and steered them through a set of massive doors into the main hall. Once she saw the ballroom, however, all thoughts of exploding trinkets vanished from her mind.
Kaz and Burn stood at the top of a grand staircase, which swept downward into a cavernous space. Sizing it up, Burn guessed it was at least twice as tall as her own humble abode and at least three times as wide.
Her gaze was automatically drawn to the ceiling, which was dominated by an enormous glass chandelier that broke the light into rainbows and showered them back onto the partygoers. The room was clad in windows along two of the walls, with the remaining two blanketed in intricate wallpaper depicting a shimmering silver-gray forest that danced in the light. Even the smell of the room was enchanting, a wafting sweetness that reminded Burn of honey and oranges and a spice she couldn’t place.
It was enough to make Burn’s head spin, even without the throngs of people dancing and eating and talking all around her. The presence of so many people added a buzz to the room, a noise that vibrated in the space like a long, unending note.
Burn could have stood at the top of those steps all night, absorbing the grandeur and the energy of the room and its inhabitants. But people continued to enter behind them, pushing Kaz and Burn forward like leaves in a swirling stream. Once again arm in arm, the couple descended together into the chaos.
Chapter 13
As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Burn took stock of her surroundings. She needed to get her bearings and discover everything that this place – and these people – were hiding. She couldn’t do that if she was frozen in place, awestruck by the beauty and excess.
“Let’s explore,” she suggested, guiding Kaz to one side of the room. “I want to see this place. And maybe you can point out your colleagues while we go.” It would be nice to put names to the faces – and determine who to listen in on as the night progressed.
“Sure,” Kaz responded, smiling down at her.
They started off on a lap around the room, pausing almost immediately as Kaz grabbed two drinks off a passing tray, handing one to Burn. She sniffed at the unfamiliar fizzy liquid before taking a tentative sip. An explosion of flavor hit her tongue, melding a sweetness like nectar with an unfamiliar tartness and a shallow burn of alcohol as it went down.
But Burn had never tasted anything like this. It left the flavor of honey on her tongue and made her want another sip as soon as she’d swallowed the last. This was more dangerous than any back-alley spirit, she decided, resisting the temptation to down the glass in one gulp.
She scanned the room, noting that most of the guests held similar drinks – plenty of which were already empty. If they kept drinking like this, getting information on the Peace Force’s plans would be a breeze. She just had to keep a clear head until then.
Drinks in hand, the pair started walking again, ambling around the edges of the room while Kaz pointed out his fellow officers and superiors.
“That’s Sergeant Radix,” Kaz said, pointing at gangly man whose too-long limbs stretched out from his too-small suit. “And that’s Corporal Brika,” he continued, indicating a brunette woman in a tight green dress.
Women weren’t as common on the force as men, although there were no rules banning them from serving. The type of woman attracted to the job, however, was typically the same as the type of man who found his way onto the force: brash, arrogant, and in search of power. They held no more compassion for the people of Kasis than their male counterparts, and believing otherwise was the downfall of many.
Kaz pointed out a few more officers and superiors as they finished their lap around the room. There were many people he didn’t know, or only knew by sight and not by name, so Burn was still left with a good number of gaps in her knowledge. But she knew more than she had upon entering the room, which was a start.
She hadn’t seen Detective Grayland around, although she hadn’t really expected to. This wasn’t exactly his type of event, and his rank wasn’t high enough to make his presence required. It would have been nice, though, Burn thought, to see his familiar face in the crowd.
She was thankful that she hadn’t yet spotted Cross amongst the guests. Burn knew he had to be around somewhere, but she was hoping she could stealthily avoid him for the duration of the party – or at least avoid being spotted by him. She knew, no matter how much she wished it otherwise, that listening to him and his conversations would be the best way to learn more about whatever the Peace Force was planning.
“Do you think they’d mind if we explored the house?” Burn asked, hoping to scout out more of the building and its secrets.
“Bored of the party already?” Kaz asked, finishing off his drink and placing it on a nearby table.
“No,” Burn said truthfully. She didn’t think she could ever get bored of such splendor. “I’m simply curious to see what else this place holds.”
Kaz considered this. “Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin in thought. Then he held up a finger. “Give me a minute,” he said before turning and disappearing into the crowd.
Burn didn’t follow him, trusting he’d return and explain. Instead, she took the opportunity to survey the room as only she could. She closed her eyes and focused her thoughts, centering herself before opening them again. Homing in on small groups at a time, she scanned the room in search of useful conversations.
Most of the party’s guests were discussing the event itself – the house, the food, the people. Others were flirting or joking or complementing each other’s appearance. Two were swiftly getting to know one another behind a large curtain, out of sight of the rest of the party. Burn didn’t linger on that particular interaction for long.
The party was just beginning, and it seemed nobody was yet discussing business. Right now, people were getting acclimated to the space and the crowd. Time, plus the addition of more drinks, would change that, freeing tongues and inhibitions alike. Burn just had to be patient.
She sifted through a few more conversations, this time focusing on the people Kaz had pointed out as his superiors. She was just zeroing in on Sergeant Radix when a cold voice came from behind her, making her muscles tense.
“Ms. Alendra, how nice to see you,” the voice stated, sounding anything but pleased. “I don’t remember seeing you on the guest list.”
Burn turned, coming face to face with Illex Cross. He looked her up and down, as if appraising her value, and Burn instinctively crossed her arms over her chest.
“I’d heard how fun your parties were,” she said, her tone sickly sweet, “and I couldn’t stay away.”
Cross moved closer, his posture stiff as he towered over her. “You’re not welcome here, Burn.” He spat out her name as if it were a swear word.
“I was invited,” she said simply. She kept her face blank and her expression neutral, stemming the tide of her anger so it wouldn’t come crashing out. The last thing she needed was to be chucked out of the ball before she’d even had a chance to discover anything.
He scoffed, not even trying to hide his scorn. “You mean you tricked someone into bringing you? Who’s the poor soul you’re using now? Does he know what you’re really after?”
“And what am I after, Mr. Cross?” she bit back, purposely omitting his title. As he glared at her, she took a step back, folding her hands in front of her in a gesture of innocence. “I think you have me wrong, sir. All I want is to enjoy a nice evening with you and your fine officers. Nothing more.” Her eyes didn’t leave his as she spoke, and Cross returned her glare mutely.
Kaz chose that instant to suddenly reappear behind her. “There you are!” he said, relieved and a touch out of breath. “I thought I’d lost you. This place is…” He trailed off as he caught sight of General Cross. “Sir,” Kaz greeted him, bobbing his head respectfully.
Burn broke her eye contact with Cross and turned to face Kaz, noticing that he held two plates piled with food. Seeing her gaze, Kaz said, “I didn’t know what you liked, so I got a bit of everything.” Smiling, he held out a plate. She took it, giving him a small smile in return.
“Officer Petala,” Cross said by way of a greeting. “I didn’t know you and Ms. Alendra were acquainted.” He sounded genuinely intrigued, and Burn had to dig her nails into her palm to keep from spitting back that their relationship was none of his business. Instead, she remained silent, letting Kaz do the talking.
“We’re…new friends,” he responded delicately. “I’ve always wanted to attend the ball, and Burn did me the enormous favor of accompanying me.” He beamed down at Burn as he spoke.
Cross’ face was unreadable as he processed the new information. “How nice,” he said after a brief pause. “Well, I wish you two the best tonight. I must go and mingle.” He turned to go but paused as a thought struck him. “Ms. Alendra, would you do me the honor of saving me a dance? I would love to continue our fascinating conversation.”
Burn wanted to slap him. Or spit in his face. Or hand him a mint and watch his head explode into a thousand little pieces. But instead, she smiled and said, “Of course.” With that, Cross turned on his heel and strode back into the crowd.
“What was that about?” Kaz asked, his face betraying mild concern.
“Nothing,” Burn said, picking at her food. “He wanted to know what I was doing here. Can we get out of here?” she asked, indicating the ballroom.
“Sure,” he replied, although he sounded as if he wanted to ask more.
The two made their way out of the crowded room and into an adjoining hallway. Burn kept walking, passing portraits and doorways and sculptures, until she found a semi-secluded set of chairs set into an alcove in the wall. The location was perfect for a private conversation – and an equally good place to watch passersby without being noticed. She positioned herself on one of the low chairs, fanning out her dress on either side of her.
Kaz sat down tentatively, something clearly on his mind. Finally, gathering up his nerve, he spoke. “Is something going on between you and General Cross?”
Kaz kept his gaze down, not entirely convinced. “It’s just that…the times I’ve seen you together, it seems like there’s something between you. Something intense.”
Burn looked him over and sighed. “You’re right. There is something between us.” She watched as Kaz’s face fell slightly, then reached over and took his hand in hers. “It’s called hatred. Utter hatred. He wishes I didn’t exist, and I feel the same way about him. I did warn you about this when you asked me to the ball,” she reminded him.
“Yeah, you did,” he said, shaking his head. The smile was coming back slowly but surely. “Sorry. I guess I got jealous when I saw the way he was looking at you. It sounds so stupid now.”
Burn shook her head, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. “He was looking at me like he wanted to throw me out of the party. And if you hadn’t come along when you did, I’m sure he would have. So thank you.” She paused, but he didn’t seem inclined to respond. “So…what is all of this?” she asked, gesturing to the plate of food in front of her.
Kaz perked up at the mention of food, turning his attention to the piles he had scavenged for them. “I don’t even know,” he admitted, his eyes roaming over it all. “It all smelled so good. I think there are a few types of meat on sticks. Some exotic fruits. And a bunch of desserts.”
It turned out that the food tasted even more wonderful than it smelled. The contents of her plate put her plain pastry that morning to shame. The roast meats were delicious, dripping juices that she sopped up with wonderfully soft herbed bread. And there were types of cheeses she had never even heard of.
But it was the desserts that made her mouth water. Soft, sponge-like cakes drizzled with honey that tasted like flowers, chocolates filled with sticky sweet caramel and clusters of nuts, and perfectly rounded cookies that hid bursts of lemon and orange that tickled her tongue.