by H. D. Gordon
“Good God,” said the woman. “That thing was coming so fast!” She glanced around, suddenly angry. “I should sue. Where’d that… that death ball come from?”
I shrugged, though I knew exactly the direction it had come from, and bit back a little chuckle at the name she’d given it. She was right that she could’ve been badly injured, but she hadn’t been, so I thought she should chill.
She stalked off without saying thank you, mumbling about not wanting to come here in the first place. I sighed, pushing the negative vibes she’d let off away from me with conscious effort. This was a reason I was never fond of crowds; there was always bound to be some steamed up kettles amidst the pots and pans.
Looking in the direction the ball had come from, I saw a young man with a sheepish look on his face. He gave a small wave as our gazes met. My eyes narrowed, and I held up the metal ball, my eyebrows rising in question. He nodded. I exited the line I’d been waiting in and went over to him.
When I reached him, I was taken aback a bit by how handsome he was. He had striking blue eyes and stylishly messy hair that was a luxurious brown. His clothes were crisp and expensive; a dark blue collared shirt and kakis that suggested private school. A watch was on his wrist that probably cost more money than had ever crossed my hands in my entire life.
I was instantly both attracted to and distrusted him.
I held up the metal ball. “This yours?” I asked.
He grinned, and I wondered why the hell his teeth had to be so white and straight. Taking the ball from me, he said, “Why, yes, it is.”
“You could’ve knocked that lady’s teeth out. You should hold onto it a little better.” I turned to go, not trusting the way my stomach seemed to be fluttering.
He reached out and touched my arm. “Wait,” he said. “What’s your name?”
I swallowed, feeling dorky all of a sudden for no reason. “Aria,” I said, turning back.
He grinned again, and I saw that there were dimples in his cheeks. Holding out his hand, he said, “Hi, Aria. I’m Caleb. It’s nice to meet you… and thank you for keeping my ball from hitting that lady in the face.”
I shook my head, not liking that he was joking about what had happened, or the fact that he was cute while doing it. “What is it?” I asked, nodding at the ball.
His face lit up and he held it up between his fingers. “A drone, of course,” he said. “Self-navigating… or at least, it was supposed to be.”
“You made it?”
He shrugged, and the humility was endearing. After studying me in a way that I was sure was making my cheeks pink, he said, “My father’s having a showcase later. You could come check it out. It’s at the end of Row A at four o’clock, big green tent. Can’t miss it.”
“Oh… uh… Cool,” I said, and sounded anything but. I tended to lose my abilities of speech in the presence of appealing members of the opposite sex.
But, luckily, this made his smile broaden, and he held the metal-drone-ball out to me. “Here,” he said. “Keep it. So you don’t forget me.”
I took the ball and was getting ready to come out with what I hoped would be some really clever line when Sam came up to us. “Hey, everything okay?” she asked me, her eyes flicking over to Caleb. I didn’t miss that this made her cheeks flush as well.
I nodded. “Yep.”
“Hey,” Caleb said, “you’re the girl from Grant City High who won the Tech Award last year, aren’t you? You were a freshman.”
Sam’s cheeks were practically afire now, and my heart sank a bit. Of course my newly professed ‘best friend’ would have a crush on Mr. Perfect. Now that I thought about it, something told me that all the young ladies in Grant City probably had a crush on this guy.
“Yeah,” Sam said, pushing her glasses up her nose and staring at him in a way that would become uncomfortable if she kept it up much longer. At least I wasn’t the only one who turned into a dumbass whenever hot guys were near.
He held out his hand to her. “Caleb Cross. Nice to meet you.”
Sam gripped his hand and shook it in a near daze. “I know who you are,” she blurted, and I cringed for her. “I mean, I know of you,” she corrected. “Of course… um, you know, because of your dad… or whatever.”
Even though I’d known Sam less than a day, I felt compelled to save her from the plane crash that was her flirting. I broke the awkward silence that fell. “Well, great talk. See ya around, Caleb.”
“Four o’clock,” he said. “Green tent. Don’t forget.”
Sam craned her neck to look at him while I pulled her away. When we were out of earshot, she said, “Oh. Em. Gee. That was Caleb Cross!”
I nodded. “That’s what he said.”
“His dad owns, like, half of Grant City.” She sighed. “The Cross Corporation is a world leader in bioengineering, among other things… and he’s so beautiful.”
I nodded again. I had noticed that also.
“What was he saying about a green tent?”
“His dad is doing some sort of demo later,” I said.
“What? And he invited you? Well, then we have to go!”
“Is it a big deal, or something?”
Sam shook her head and smiled, linking her arm through mine. “Dude, when Caleb Cross invites you somewhere, you don’t ask questions, you just go.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like a cult leader.”
She laughed. “You’re a strange girl, Aria Fae.”
“Yeah,” I sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”
CHAPTER 5
We got food at last, and I did my best not to consume it like a starving hyena, as I had a rule to only do so when in private. When Sam wasn’t looking, I stuffed some of my sandwich into my pocket for later, as since I’d been kicked out of the Brokers and cut off from their funds, I never really knew where my next meal was coming from.
After we ate, the day went by surprisingly quickly. I continued to marvel at all the advancements in human technology, and actually felt pride toward the half of my blood that wasn’t Fae. Being a Halfling had always left me conflicted over my lineage, and it would be a lie to say that there hadn’t been days when I’d cursed my mother for having made me.
Of course, thinking of that just now was putting a damper on my mood, so I pushed the thought out of my head. I asked Sam if she wanted to go outside and grab some air. As much as I loved the exposition, it would be good to get some open space, take a break from the crowd.
She agreed, and we went out to do just that. Despite the city air being rank in comparison to the fresh sea air I’d grown accustomed to in Blue Hook, it was still refreshing.
Sam and I stood beside the enormous Convention Center. When she pulled out a cigarette and stuck it in her mouth, I raised an eyebrow.
Before lighting it, she looked at me over her glasses. “What?” she said. “Don’t judge, okay?”
I gave a shrug. “I wasn’t.”
“Pfft,” she said, lighting the cigarette. “You were too.”
“Well, what’re you, like, fifteen?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound rude, I was just realizing I’d spent all day with her and didn’t even know how old she was.
She took a drag and blew out the smoke, courteously away from me. “Let me get this straight, Aria Fae,” she said, her voice neutral, for which I liked her more. “You’re totally cool with me hijacking the school computer system, playing hooky, going to an exposition with stolen badges, but the cigarette… the cigarette is where you draw the line?” She paused. “And, yes, I’m fifteen, by the way.”
I felt a slow smile come to my lips. “You may have a point,” I said, and we both laughed.
When we sobered, I said, “But, still, that shit’ll kill you.”
Sam took one last drag and put out the cigarette, replacing the butt in her pocket, for which I nodded approvingly. “I know,” she said. “Which is why I’ll quit before I get old. I just have… a lot going on right now, and I’m dealing.”
This made her smile. She checked her watch. “It’s almost four,” she said, smile growing. “We gotta go watch Caleb’s dad’s showcase.” She waggled her eyebrows.
I chuckled. “You’re kind of a dork, you know that?”
“Why? Because I don’t have nun-chuck skills like you?” She smirked. “And I prefer nerd.”
“Me and you are gonna get along just fine,” I said.
She blinked at me. “It’s ‘you and I’,” she said. “And we already are.”
“I know. I know that. I was saying that we’re going to keep on getting along just fine.”
She laughed. I laughed. It was great.
And then things got interesting.
CHAPTER 6
We found our way to the green tent, spotting it at the end of Row Four, just as Caleb had said.
Checking her watch again, Sam said, “Hey, do you need to text your mom or something? School let out an hour and a half ago.”
“I already texted her,” I lied. “It’s cool.”
She nodded. “Nice.”
“What about your parents?”
“I texted my dad, too. He knew I’d be coming here today.” She gave that sly grin of hers. “He just thought I’d wait until after school.”
“Did he know about the badges?”
She pushed her glasses up on her nose. “My dad stopped asking me questions a little while ago.”
As she said this, I saw a somber, almost pained look flash briefly behind her blue eyes, and I dropped the subject. I, of all people, knew what it was like to want to hold onto secrets, things that had left scars. Not because I was ashamed of them, but because they were mine.
We made it to the green tent and had to have our I. D. badges scanned by two rather large gentlemen in crisp black suits. I considered this oddity a moment, and then shrugged it away. Sam had said that Caleb’s dad was a powerful man, maybe these two were his bodyguards or something.
Once we were inside the tent, I saw that there were only a hundred or so people inside, and that all of those present were of the upper class sort. They were subtly wealthy, not dripping in jewels or wearing thousand-dollar shoes, but instead, one could see the money in the fine fabric of their shirts, the clean, styled hair, the manicured fingernails, and of course, the newest, shiniest gadgets in their pockets and clutched between their fingers.
These were the intellectual upper class, and I immediately felt out of place. I was more of an artist than a scientist. Looking over at Sam told me she felt right at home. As well she should. Despite the company in the green tent, the fifteen-year-old girl standing next to me was probably better with computers than anyone here.
People were gathering near a small platform that served as a stage. There were no chairs, but tall cocktail tables were placed about where people could set the drinks and hors d'oeuvres being passed out by servers in actual penguin suits.
I accepted some bacon-wrapped crab skewered with a toothpick and shoved it in my mouth, pinky held out as I did so, earning a giggle from Sam. My cheeks went slightly red as I saw Caleb Cross staring at me from across the room, grinning.
Thankfully, the moment didn’t last long because a man who could only be Caleb’s father climbed atop the platform and greeted the crowd. His brown hair was kept shorter than his son’s, and he was wearing a nice suit, but other than that, the differences between the two stopped there. Cross Sr. had the same striking blue eyes and dimpled smile as his son.
“Thank you all for coming,” Dr. Cross said, charming smile pulling up his lips. “I know most of you are here exhibiting works of your own, so I appreciate you taking time out of your schedules to attend this small showcase.”
A camera flashed, and I noticed for the first time that there was press in the room. Just one guy with a video camera and a perky female with a regular camera and a notebook. My eyes went back to the stage.
“As many of you may know, there’s a new drug flooding the streets of Grant City,” continued Dr. Cross. “They call it Black Magic, and it’s twice as addictive and more dangerous than Crystal Meth. Last week, a man went into a CVS on 53rd and Broad and tried to eat the face of the night clerk on duty. Luckily, an off-duty policeman was near and shot the crazed man. Autopsy showed Black Magic in his system.”
The small crowd was utterly silent now, the mood in the space suddenly somber. Being so new to Grant City, this was all news to me, but when I looked over at Sam, I saw this all must have been common knowledge. And that dark look passed again behind her eyes.
Dr. Cross continued. “A week before that three pedestrians came across an individual who’d been attempting to eat off her own hand. They called the police, and several officers were bitten in the process of trying to restrain the young lady. Later it was discovered she’d been using Black Magic the night before.
For a long time, the medical community has ignored addiction as a legitimate disease, has regarded it as a sort of moral failing, rather than a condition that deserves acknowledgement and treatment, the same as does diabetes or depression.”
Dr. Cross paused, his eyes running over all those present. “Now, more than ever, we need to stand together to protect the city that we love, and see to it that Grant City doesn’t fall victim to this dangerous drug. We need to take action.”
There were a few mumbles and approving nods, but for the most part, the people here were smart; they were reserving judgment until everything had been presented.
“I believe we can be a part of that change. I believe as the scientists and doctors of this community, we have an obligation to be a part of it, and it starts by devoting the brainpower, and yes,” Dr. Cross smiled, “the funds to the correct area of study.”
A pretty woman in her forties near the front of the platform spoke up. She had her arms folded and her lips were slightly pursed. “You want money, Christian,” she said. “So tell us for what, exactly.”
As a Fae Empath, I could tell Dr. Cross found this interruption rude, and I watched as the aura surrounding him went bright red.
But his outward appearance showed a stark contrast; his shoulders were relaxed, a slight smile still on his lips. His blue eyes even sparkled as he looked at the woman who’d spoken.
“Ah, Dr. Small,” he said. “Ever prudent.” He snapped his fingers, and a projector opposite the stage came on, turning the canvas of the tent—which was white on the inside, rather than green—into a movie screen. On the screen were the words: MINDFULNESS AND ADDICTION.
The next fifteen minutes of the presentation droned on a little for me. It was all science-y and stuff, and I, well, was not. I’m not stupid, though, and I understood the gist of what Dr. Cross was saying. He believed he could develope a pharmaceutical that could engage and disengage certain areas of the brain; specifically, the part that controlled addiction.
Minus all the terms and lingo that went in one of my ears and out the other, his idea was pretty simple. He wanted to eliminate the drug problem in Grant City by eliminating the demand.
Sam leaned over to whisper to me, and I noticed that her aura was full of conflicting emotions, her eyes on the verge of tears. She didn’t let them spill, though. “He’s a genius,” she said. “Such a good man.”
I looked back at Caleb’s father, Dr. Christian Cross, and found that the vibes coming off of him didn’t match this assessment. I didn’t have much time to ponder this, however, because apparently I wasn’t the only one who felt this way.
A man at the edge of the crowd pulled a gun from his jacket and grabbed Caleb around the neck with his free arm. He placed the barrel to Caleb’s temple.
“No one move,” he said. “Or I’ll blow off his head.”
CHAPTER 7
Despite all the things that would follow because of what I did next, had I time to go back and think it over, I probably wouldn’t have acted any differently.
I could blam
e it on my training with the Brokers, or call it a kneejerk reaction—both of which surely played a part, but the truth of it was I was seeking a thrill. I had, in fact, been seeking this since all the things in my life went down the toilet. It was the reason I’d moved to Grant City, though I didn’t know it at the time. It was the way I was dealing with my depression.
I was young, and I didn’t know any better. I’d just wanted to feel a sense of purpose, to shake the sadness, and it had me acting rashly.
So when the gunman grabbed Caleb around the neck and placed the barrel of a 9mm against the side of his head, telling the small crowd not to move, my mind was already gaging the weight of the metal drone ball I was slowly removing from my pocket, my heartbeat slow and steady in the tense situation, as the Brokers had trained it to be.
The two large men who’d been guarding the entrance reached for their guns, but the man holding Caleb hostage turned toward them and shook his head. It was in this small space of time that I acted.
This movement put the gunman at a forty-five degree angle to me, offering a clean shot at his head. I slipped off the hairband I always wore around my wrist (a girl never knows when she might be compelled to have a messy bun or pony) and stretched it over two fingers. Luckily, it was super elastic-y due to the fact that I have a lion’s mane of reddish-brown hair.
Then it was as simple as loading the metal ball into the chamber, and firing away. All of this I did in a matter of seconds. I lined up the shot and let her fly, knowing my target would hit home, trusting my aim to the fullest.
The metal ball whizzed through the air so fast that no one even saw it. When it struck the gunman hard in the temple, his eyes crossed and he stumbled back, dazed, and released his hold on Caleb just enough for him to slip free.
Most of the people in the room had no idea what had just happened. Their brains were in shock at the turn of events, and they’d been solely focused on the man standing before them with the gun.