I could feel King staring at me. I tried to ignore it for a while, but I finally turned to snap at him, “What?”
“You’re different,” he said.
I run a hand through my hair, and looked away. I could still feel him staring at me. There’d been too much feeling in his eyes.
I cleared my throat. “Me? Different? No, I wouldn’t say that. I’m just less the same.”
“You seem…kinder. Funnier too.”
“No one can get funnier. You either are, or you aren’t.”
“Is that right?”
“Oh yeah,” I said. “I read about it—it’s a universal law or something.”
He laughed, and I smiled.
“How else am I different?” I asked, hoping to mend my act.
“Well, for instance,” he said, “you blew off the inverted pyramid.”
Inverted pyramid? I thought., before remembering what it was. Ah yes, the crazy simultaneous sniper thing. “I didn’t blow it off,” I said. “Po did.”
“Yes, but you didn’t even back me up in there. You love the inverted pyramid. You said it reminds you of nuked sausage. Splat.”
A wave of sickness hit me. “Not in a public gathering, I don’t,” I finally said, my smile strained.
“No, of course not. You know I was kidding in there, right? Just wanted to annoy Po. She’s hilarious when she’s furious.”
“You like it when the group argues?”
“Don’t you? Builds the family unit. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what that’s like. Oh wait.” His smile weakened. “You got yourself another family. Quite an elaborate cover,” he continued. “A father. A mother. A step-mother. Step siblings? Seriously? And that little girl you got to play your sister? She even looks like you. Well played.”
I hesitated. “Thank you.”
“You do realize that, someday, they might end up collateral damage, right?”
I didn’t. I hadn’t. But now that I was considering it, it scared me. A lot.
“Then again, if anybody can keep them safe, it’s you,” he said.
I nodded, numbly. I felt his hand reaching for mine, and grasping it.
Inexplicably, my heart began to quicken its pace.
“How are you dealing?” he asked.
I stared back, stumped.
“Dealing with what?” I asked, cautiously.
“Your bane.”
“My bane?” I scoured my thoughts. The Director had not mentioned anything about a ‘bane’. Nor had the team. “Uh, it’s fine. I think.” I hesitated, and then took a gamble: “What about you? How…how is your bane?”
There was subtle amusement in his eyes. “Me? I’m fine. I’ve been fine for five years, Fey. Or are you just ribbing me?”
“I don’t know. Am I?” I teased.
Seriously though, I didn’t know.
“I haven’t ripped any spines out, if that’s what you’re asking,” he said, and I blinked.
What?
“The Rage hasn’t surfaced. I like to think it never will again. That chapter is over.”
“I-I’m glad to hear that,” I said.
“Now back to you. How is the Pain?”
“The pain,” I repeated.
“Are any of the meds helping? Did you find a good mix?”
Suddenly, I remembered. Fey Watters, she was supposed to suffer from some kind of chronic migraine. “No,” I said, relieved that I finally knew what we talking about. “No, it’s not gone. It’s still pretty bad.”
“Oh.” He looked disappointed. “It’s just, you seem more upbeat. Less tired. I thought that maybe—“
“It’s nothing,” I said, quickly. “I’m just glad to see you, that’s all.”
He stopped, as if surprised by my words.
“You know,” he finally said, fixing his eyes onto mine. “It was really hard—those years undercover at the facility.”
He thinks he was undercover? I thought. Just how far gone was this guy?
“But you know what got me through it?” he continued, somehow closer, though I did not recall him moving. “You.” His voice was a whisper now. “Your face. Your eyes. Your smile.”
Thump-thump-thump, went my heart. “That’s,” I rasped, “that’s really nice of you to say.”
He smiled. His face was closer to mine. I could feel his breath on my upper lip. It was hot. I pursed my lips, and tried to shift my eyes away. But my eyes, they returned to his. Repeatedly.
I could not take my eyes off his. If I had not known better, I would’ve sworn I was spelled. But being spelled by him, doing whatever he wanted me to; maybe, it would not be so bad.
What the flaming muck are you thinking! My brain screamed. You don’t even know him! Move! Turn your head! Push him away!
Finally, with much difficulty, I succeeded in whispering: “King.” I swallowed. “Not here.”
“No?”
“Not now.” My voice was firmer.
“Okay,” he whispered back. But he did not withdraw.
Our noses, our lips, units away from each other. We stayed that way for a moment longer.
“We’re ready,” Po’s voice echoed.
I jumped. Po was standing at the front door. Her eyes were glued to the floor. No doubt she had seen us. My grave was growing deeper.
“We should get back to the table,” she said, her voice soft, nearly monotone. “We still have logistics to discuss.”
“We’ll be right there,” King said.
Po nodded, and disappeared.
“Well,” King said. “Guess we have to get back.”
I nodded, but I wasn’t really listening to him.
I had gotten myself into more than just alternative employment. Suddenly, tonight’s assassination was one of my lesser worries.
CHAPTER 39
After our second meeting, we drove to the airport and boarded a private airship to the Cluster State. A hover carrier took us to Capitol, and then a taxi to the Chalice Hotel.
The Chalice was a seventy-floor, glass structure with a noticeably concave design. The interior was adorned with abstract art and artefacts, many of which were made entirely of clear or mirrored glass. It was alluring, until it wasn’t.
We each got our own rooms.
When I was finally alone, I took a shower, and then stared at my reflection in the mirror for a few moments. I was trying not to be terrified of what we were about to do. I had participated in a coordinated field task before. This wouldn’t be that different—except for the part where the person of interest was a walking corpse, and we were trying to kill it.
I got dressed, applied my concealer, and waited.
At the eighteenth hour, the doorbell rang. I went to answer it. It was King. He was dressed in a paramedic’s uniform.
His eyes flitted over me. I was in the purple dress the team had provided me, with silver earrings and silver shoes. “You look amazing,” he said.
“Thank you.”
The rest of the team was waiting for us in King’s room. Kay was dressed in black, holding a case I knew contained a disassembled sniper blaster. Po was dressed as a waiter.
There was an open case on the centre table, filled with weapons.
“Not a lot of blasters huh?” I said, eying the array of knives and swords.
King laughed. “You want a blaster?”
I remembered what Po had told me during our last training session. “No, it’s fine.”
King handed me a purse. Inside, I found a radio earpiece, and a Hitian embroidered fan. I inserted the earpiece, and picked up the fan. When I pressed the little knob on its handle, blades slid out of the frame.
King grinned. “Nice, huh?”
“Yeah, it’s not inadequate. Or derivative. At all.” I disarmed the fan, and put it back in the purse. “I’m ready.”
“Good. Let’s go.” King smiled at each of us. “We have a dead guy to kill.”
We left the room. King and I were the last ones to leave.
�
�You okay, Fey?” he asked.
Damn it. He could tell I was nervous. “I’m fine,” I said.
He nodded, put on his paramedics’ cap, and left the room.
I took a deep breath. Then, I exited as well and headed for the nearest lift. On the ride to the roof, I went over the plan a hundred times: I would scope the party, and find Pethro. Then, I would introduce myself to him, under the alias Esilia Greene. As I shook his hand, I would subtly check for a pulse. If he had one, we would abandon the mission immediately. If he didn’t—and King was certain he wouldn’t—I would signal Po, who would bring him a glass of wine laced with a paralyzing agent. If the poison did not work, Kay was stationed in the next building, and King would be parachuting by in the sky. They would shoot simultaneously, through Pethro’s heart and brain. It would be messy, and it would cause a public uproar, and that was why it was Plan B. But whether or not the poison worked, King and Kay were going to show up in a ‘borrowed’ ambulance to transport Pethro away from the hotel. Nobody would ever find the body.
It was a good plan, I assured myself. Everything was going to go smoothly. I was working with professionals.
The lift stopped, and the doors opened.
Show time.
The rooftop of the Chalice was beautiful. Lanterns hung from the glass ceiling, and tiny lights dotted the floor in widely spaced rows. There was a swimming pool at the centre of the floor, with floating lily pads and flower petals. There was an abundance of exotic foliage, all of which I found preferable to glass articles and figurines. The gala was already well underway, and the floor was busy with elegantly dressed guests. I took one look at the apparel on display, and suddenly, I was very glad that I had not chosen to wear one of my own dresses from home.
My earpiece crackled. Are you on deck? King asked.
“I’m at the gala, if that’s what you’re asking,” I said.
Do you see Pethro?
“Not yet.”
A waiter brought me a glass of champagne, and I received it gratefully. I walked, scanned, sipped.
Drinking on the job? Really? Po’s voice said.
I looked around, and spotted Po at the appetizer table. “Hey,” I said. “You want me to be believable, don’t you? Who goes to a fundraising gala, and doesn’t drink?”
Kay. King again. Are you in position?
Kay’s voice. Yeah, boss. Just breezin’, waiting on you.
I looked up. I couldn’t see the hover carrier that was supposed to be waiting several throws above the Chalice. It was probably behind the clouds. I couldn’t believe King, or anyone for that matter, could really snipe a target whilst dangling from a moving parachute.
Keep your eyes on the ground, Fey, Po snapped.
I lowered my eyes, and…
“I see him,” I muttered.
There he was: Pethro, talking with some guests. He said something, and they all laughed.
Is he alone? King asked.
“No. Should I try to isolate him?”
Give it a moment.
I stood by an enormous velvet red flower, and waited. Pethro kept talking to the guests. They kept laughing at the things he said. For a dead guy, he sure knew how to work a crowd. But eventually, members of his audience began to wander away.
“I’m about to go in,” I said.
Understood.
I was just about to step forward when a body got in my way. Puzzled, I looked up. A Ruby man was grinning down at me.
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he purred.
I was so taken aback that I forgot how to use my words.
What’s going on? King asked. Fey? Are you there?
Oh she’s here alright, Po said. She’s taking some time off the mission to flirt. But that’s okay because, it’s not like we’re on a schedule or anything.
Fey! Kay sounded amused. You sly girl, you.
Trying hard to ignore the voices in my head, I smiled up at the man. “Hey there yourself.”
“This party is turning into a real snore, eh?”
“Yeah, well, raising money for blood cancer will do that to you,” I said.
He let out what I’m sure he thought was a charming chuckle, so I knew my sarcasm had escaped him.
I tried to look over his shoulder as he talked. “A girl as pretty as you shouldn’t have to be subjected to another moment of boredom. There’s a pretty good bar on the basement floor. Let me buy you a drink. Maybe try to get into your head, see what makes a girl like you tick? What do you say?”
Kay chuckled. The doe’s got lyrics, have to admit.
Oh please, King said. That’s a generic pickup line if I ever heard one.
Po’s sigh crackled the radio. Is anyone interested in getting this job done, but me?
“Sorry,” I told the man. “Not interested. But thank you. I’m flattered.”
There were even fewer guests with Pethro now. I needed to move quickly.
“I have to go,” I said, and tried to side step the man. That was when he grabbed my arm.
My reaction was immediate: I connected a fist with his groin, and slapped my free hand over his mouth to contain his cry. I glanced around the place, hoping nobody had seen what I’d done. Kay must’ve been watching me through his scope, because he burst into loud laughter.
I bent over to the man’s ear. “I said,” I whispered. “Not interested. Thank you. I’m flattered.”
He nodded, whimpering.
I patted him on the back, and proceeded to Pethro, who was free of his guests. King was now pestering Kay to tell him what had happened. Why were they all so relaxed about this? Frustrated, I took my earpiece out, and dumped it in my purse. How did they get any work done like this?
Before I reached him, Pethro turned in my direction. He smiled.
“That was a very dissuading response you gave that young man,” he said, when I was next to him.
I cringed inside. He shouldn’t have seen that. I tried to recover with a coy smile. “He was trying to stop me from talking to you.”
He smiled. “Oh? And to what do I owe the pleasure of your attention?”
For a zombie, he sure is well mannered, I thought. But even if he didn’t sound dead, he definitely looked dead. He looked even worse than he had in the pictures King had shown us. Up close, his skin wasn’t only grey, it looked moist, as though every inch of his body were perspiring at the same time. And the smell—it was faint, but detectable; it was disgusting. How had he kept those guests talking to him for so long?
His smile faltered. “The biggest drawback, of having cancer of the blood, I think, is having your audience perpetually more interested in the state of your body, than in the soundness of your words.”
I faltered. “Excuse me?”
“I noticed you were inspecting me.” His eyes were sad. “I doubt you were admiring my suit. But, it’s alright. Mana radiation therapy, it does not leave one glowing with health. Our learners say that mana energy is predisposed to form and order, but half a million radiation patients world-wide beg to differ.”
I didn’t say anything. I only paid attention as he talked. His eyes did not wander for a moment. His voice was clear, convicted. The emotion in his words, near tangible. I didn’t notice a single tell.
“Let’s try this again,” Pethro said. He extended his hand. “Pethro. Benmark Ron Pethro, president of the Aurora Health Organization. But I assume you already know who I am, otherwise you wouldn’t be punching suitors in the stones just to talk to me.”
I surrendered a small smile, and reached for his hand. “Esilia Greene.”
But just as he stretched forth his hand to take mine, I noticed something green at the corner of my eye. I shifted my eyes from Pethro’s, to see Evon standing behind him in a plain white dress, drinking casually from a flute of champagne.
Evon was scanning the crowd, her eyes bored.
By the time I had regained my presence of mind, Pethro was done shaking my hand. I had failed to check his pulse.
“So Ms Gre
ene, what did you want to talk about?”
“Sorry?” I said, trying to ignore the hallucination behind him.
Pethro cocked his head. “You punched a guy to come over and see me. So, what is it that you wanted to talk about?”
I racked my brains. “Uh, I hear you have a big announcement for us tonight. Thought maybe I’d get an advance on the good news.”
My eyes flickered back to Evon. Now, she was looking at me. She smiled.
“Are you a reporter?” Pethro’s smile had turned wry. “Because I feel like I know you from somewhere.”
“No, no, I’m not a reporter,” I managed to laugh. “I’m just a student, writing a thesis on drug research.”
“I can tell. You’re an enthusiastic one, aren’t you?”
Evon was shaking her head. You can’t do this, she seemed to mouth. Run. The champagne in her flute begun swirling with a red mist. Then, the crimson liquid overflowed, running down Evon’s green fingers and splatting against the floor.
Blood.
My breathing was starting to quicken. My chest tightened.
I noticed Po nearby. She was holding a tray with a singular flute of champagne, undoubtedly already laced with a neurotoxin. She looked peeved—likely wondering why I had taken out my earpiece, and why I was just standing there, like a canine hit with bright lights. She lifted a brow, and threw me a questioning look. I tried to concentrate on what Pethro was saying.
“…And that’s why I think drug testing needs to be streamlined,” Pethro was saying. “This new model will make drug companies more autonomous, and speed up the drug approval processes, whilst still maintaining high levels of safety for consumers. Are you alright, Ms Greene? You don’t look so good.”
I swallowed. “Just perfect. I’m sorry. Excuse me for a moment.”
I walked away from the baffled man. I needed air. Now. I reached one of the ledges and held onto the stone railing, sucking in deep breaths. The air was cold here at the edge of the rooftop. City lights spread out like a sea of fireflies below me. I kept breathing. In. Out. In. Out.
When I could feel my panic subsiding, I retrieved my earpiece and popped it back in.
The BETA Agency Page 19