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  I placed my hand on her arm, wary of disquieting her further. “Cadence, darling, are you alright?”

  Cadence whimpered, pressing my hand into her skin. Even in the cool morning air, the heat of her stung. I moved around her, peering into her downturned face. Eyes staring at the ground, framed prettily by wisps of her black hair, she swallowed hard and gave a firm nod.

  “Yes.”

  She rolled her eyes and took a breath, forcing a smile onto her lips. “Yes! I’m fine!” Closing her eyes, the tortured smile evaporated like a drop of water in the desert. “Not fine, I’m not fine, someone’s been killed after all. But…relatively. I mean, I’m not dead right now, and I feel very good about that!”

  She opened her eyes, shoulders falling as she met my confused stare. Moaning, she fell forward, wrapping her arms around me, burying her face in my chest. She was heavy for a woman with so slight a figure, but I absorbed her sudden embrace without pause, holding her tight as I stroked her tangled mass of hair. I understood all too well that people like Cadence and I could be strong for only so long before we needed to stop pretending.

  We stayed there for a few moments, Cadence still and silent in my arms. I kissed the top of her head, drowning in the scent of her.

  She shifted against me, head rolling to one side. “This is bad, isn’t it?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She pulled back, the palms of her hands resting against my shoulder blades. Her dark eyes searched mine, brow furrowed.

  I brushed her cheek with my thumb. “I’m sorry for dragging you into all this, however unintentionally I might have done it.”

  Cadence shook her head, gaze falling to the dew-covered grass under our feet as she released me. She wrapped an arm around her stomach, cradling her face in her free hand. “Do you think–” Moving her hand over her face, she bit down on her thumb, taking another step back. “Do you think Inspector Brisbois will want to see my ident papers now?”

  I squinted at her, grimace twisting my lips. “I don’t know; probably. Why?” A silly thing to be worried about at a time like this, I was about to remind her that as a stranger to the house she would be a prime suspect, when the words died on my tongue.

  The EO’s arrival yesterday had made her so nervous, so guarded, almost afraid, until Brisbois told her not to bother with her ID and travel documents. That same fear was in her eyes now and I reminded myself that I knew next to nothing about the singular woman standing in front of me; even though I had assumed very much indeed.

  Lowering my voice, I reached out to her, looking about for any of the others within hearing distance. “Cadence, is there something wrong with your ident papers?”

  She slid her hand up from her mouth to her forehead, shoulders hunching in around her. “I can’t tell you, Chance. I’ve been enough of an inconvenience to you already.” She clicked her tongue off the top of her mouth, throwing her hands to her sides as her eyes searched the skies above us. “I wish I could just go home.”

  I chewed the inside of my cheek, trying to sort through the seldom experienced emotions Cadence put me through. My heart beat hard in my chest. As miserable as I was, the thought of losing Cadence filled me with a wretchedness I couldn’t bear. I licked my lips and leaned forward, taking her hand in mine.

  “Cay.” She looked at me and I almost lost my courage. Taking in a deep breath, I pulled her close. “I know I don’t exactly come off as the dependable sort,” I put my other hand on top of hers, “but if you’re in some sort of trouble, I will move heaven and earth to help you, I swear. You can trust me.”

  Cadence’s eyes went wide. She looked from my face to our entwined hands. After what felt like forever, she lifted her other hand and, with just a stutter of hesitation, placed it over mine.

  “My ident papers are fake.”

  I nodded, squeezing her hand. “Alright. Where did you get them?”

  “Janus Station.” Cadence tapped the back of my hand. “A man sold them to me. They cost almost all my money.” She stared at the ground, her brow wrinkling. “That should mean they’re good forgeries, though, right? If they cost that much? That makes sense, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, yeah.” I cleared my throat, walking around her and pulling her further behind the gazebo, away from prying eyes. “So,” I mustered a weak smile, “what’s your real name, dearest?”

  “Oh, Cadence is my real name!” A smile burst across her face like a sun flare. “We don’t have last names on Whiston, so I had to make that one up; but I’m still Cadence.”

  I scoffed, smirking, my mind rejecting the implications of what I had just heard like an organ rejecting poisoned blood. “On Whist–?”

  The rapid flow of new data pouring through my synapses clicked and merged with what was already there, dropping the truth of my guest’s origins fully formed into my mind like an atom bomb. I looked at the hand I held and threw it away like it was a snake, wiping my palm down my front as I turned, shaking my head. “No, no, no - you told me you’re from Paraesepe. You said–”

  “I lied.”

  I spun around to face it. Its inky blue eyes, bright in the shadow of the gazebo, searched my face. A sad, half smile wilted on its lips. I watched, mind wiped blank by confusion, as it lifted its hand to my shoulder and squeezed, fingertips warm even through my robe.

  Jerking away, I threw myself against the side of the gazebo, the only thought running through my scrambled mind being, ‘Don’t let it touch you’.

  Panting as if I had just raced around the entire estate, my body shook, beads of salt water on my chest growing clammy in the cool air. My head heavy, my heart aching, all I could think was, ‘Dear god, please, please don’t let it touch me’.

  The acidic taste of vomit and alcohol mixed at the back of my throat. I gagged, forcing it all back down as I croaked, “You…you’re not one of, of them, are you?”

  It pulled its hand back towards its chest, holding it to itself as if it’d been slapped. There was something in its bioengineered eyes, a simulation of an emotion called ‘hurt’.

  “Yes, I am an animanecron. I’m also Cadence.” It shook its head, raven black hair swaying. “I’m not ashamed of what I am. I only lied to protect myself, not to hurt you, Chance. I ran because I didn’t want to die; if the EO catches me, they’ll send me back.” Its shoulders began shaking again. “I can’t go back. The…the things they’ll do to me, I–” Its voice was soft, anguished. It bit its lower lip, pressing a hand to the top of its forehead. Its eyes screwed shut.

  The sensation hit me like a bucket of cold water. I wanted her, needed her with a desperation I’d not known, to look at me. I needed to see Cadence’s beautiful blue eyes meeting mine. Because it was Cadence. Somehow. It was the magnificent creature who’d caught my eye on the train, whose smile lifted me into heaven, whose mere presence here had given me strength after my father’s earth-shattering passing. It was Cadence. My Cadence. It had to be.

  The feeling was there. Then it was gone. The cold water turned lukewarm, and I was left clammy and damp.

  Cadence stepped towards me, hand outstretched, her eyes avoiding mine. “Please, Chance, could you–”

  I leaned back from her, staring, my lip pulled back from my teeth. “Did you kill him?”

  Her head whipped up, eyes wide. “Chance!”

  “Did he figure it out? What you are?”

  Cadence’s jaw snapped shut. Gripping the gazebo, as if something like her would need steadying, her face slid back into its usual impassive expression, lips parted and eyes half-lidded. It felt inappropriate to breathe, which was when I realized she wasn’t.

  From beneath her half-closed lids, she watched me, as still as death and with a detachment that struck me, for the first time, as truly alien. Was this what had first attracted me? In my heady passion, I deemed it exoticism, but in the thrall of this new, icy fascination my desire for her seemed to be a freakish quirk, a perversion, the consequences of which I dreaded.

  Cadence took
in a breath, blinked, and then exhaled. “If your father discovered who I am, he didn’t tell me.” Rolling her eyes, she gave a sharp shrug, her composure cracking as she glared at me. “And even if he had, I wouldn’t have killed him! Do you go around killing people who find out who you are?”

  My whole body relaxed, my belief in her answer comforting me more than perhaps it should have. I turned my back on her, drawing my hands down my face.

  Swallowing down my toxic cocktail of emotions, I shook my head, massaging my throat and neck. “You have to leave.”

  “I can’t. If I run, Brisbois will chase me. I’ll be caught and sent back to Whiston.”

  A mirthless laugh tore itself from my throat. “Do I look like I care?”

  Cadence walked around to face me, throwing her hands up into the air and matching my scowl. “Why does this matter so much to you, Chance? I’m still the same person I was five minutes ago!”

  “No, no, it’s not – it’s just – you’re not!” I sputtered, eyes darting around us as if I might find the words that would explain to both of us the things I felt and why hanging in midair. “You’re not a person!”

  Cadence tilted her head to one side, her hands on her hips. “What am I then?”

  “You’re a machine!”

  “So are you!”

  “What?” I tore my hands through my mangled hair. “What the hell does that even mean?”

  Cadence waved at me. “When you things are opened up you look like machines too, just different kinds of machines.”

  I shut my eyes, rubbing my forehead as I groaned. “It’s – it’s different, damn it.”

  The fight drained out of me. I was too tired, too wrecked to stay angry for any length of time; it wasn’t worth it. I sucked in a long, deep breath of air, hoping my limbs would stop shaking on their own.

  “Are you going to tell him?”

  Dropping my hand, I stared at her. Cadence shifted her weight from foot to foot, arms limp at her sides. “Inspector Brisbois; are you going to tell him who I really am?”

  I looked at it, its skin catching the glow of sunlight, my eyes drawn against their will. She was so beautiful. The thought was there before I could stop it. Bile rose in my throat as I shook my head, grimacing.

  “No. No, I won’t say anything.” I jabbed my finger towards her. “But if your forged papers don’t pass inspection there’s nothing I can do for you.”

  Cadence clasped her hands in front of her hips, her head bobbing in agreement. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me.” An all too realistic expression of pain flitted across her face, and I dropped my gaze. “Just…stay away from me, alright?”

  “Alright.” Cadence hesitated before starting forward, careful to give me a wide berth as she went around me.

  Several steps behind me, she stopped. I closed my eyes, praying that she wouldn’t speak, that she would keep walking and never come back.

  “I’m sorry, Chance. I’m very, very sorry.”

  Staring at the thick grass under my bare feet, I waited a full minute before seeing if she was gone. Alone, I succumbed to my body’s weak desires, collapsing onto the grass, morning dew seeping into my clothes as I cradled my head in my hands, concentrating on breathing.

  11

  Chapter 11

  Henry said nothing as he sat down next to me on the lawn. How long I had been in that prone position I was unsure, but Henry seemed content to sit there with me until the planet crumbled beneath us. He began picking at the grass, tying the blades together into a chain. As much as I wished for his guidance and comfort, I had decided not to tell Henry what I had learned about Cadence, seeing how fond of the girl he was and wanting, as always, to spare him pain. Revealing Cadence’s true nature would be kind to neither of them. I never was an altruistic man, but I nevertheless had no desire to become a cruel one.

  As the better part of the morning wiled away, Henry induced me to stand and come inside the gazebo, where Minerva joined us. Conversing with Henry, drawing him out of himself by asking after his studies and work, all the while she held my hand, squeezing it now and again and giving me a smile.

  A little after midday a servant brought out some cold sandwiches and water, apologizing as she explained that it was all the EO would let her take from the house. Having missed breakfast, most everyone helped themselves to at least two of the sandwiches, Desdemona and I being the only ones who refused food.

  Cadence made a point not to talk or look at me the rest of the day, my wishes having been made clear earlier, but I found that I could do little else than stare at her when I was sure others weren’t looking. Everything about her was artificial, I knew, and the feelings I had for her had to be wrong given that fact. I couldn’t want a machine.

  The sun began to set, and we moved back into the sitting room, waiting to be interviewed by Inspector Brisbois. One by one everyone was called into the study, returning after a half hour or so with the same shell-shocked expressions, the smallest smidgen of displeasure coloring their cheeks. Even Cadence looked disquieted, though I assumed by the fact she returned at all that her forged papers had passed inspection. Relieved by her return, a warm sensation bloomed in my belly at the sight of her, which I was quick to stamp out.

  Soon, everyone had been seen but me. Staring out the sitting room window, I watched the last few rays of sun paint the orange clouds pink when Henry fell into the seat next to me, hands balled up into fists.

  “I don’t like the way Brisbois is asking questions.” He shifted against the chair, gritting his teeth. “I don’t think he’s going in the right direction at all.”

  “I’m sure he knows what he’s doing,” I sighed, sinking down further in my seat, managing a smirk. “He certainly didn’t become inspector because of his good looks.”

  Henry snorted. There was a pause while he composed himself, but it wasn’t long before his hand pressed into my hunched shoulder. “How are you doing, chum?”

  “Oh…surviving.”

  “Mr. Hale?”

  I lifted my head to see a walrus mustached EO officer standing in the doorway. He gestured down the hall. “This way, please.”

  Henry gave me another pat on the back as I hurried to my feet, following the officer out of the room and down the hall, smoothing my rumpled hair and clothing. He knocked once on the study door before opening it, ushering me inside with a nod.

  “Mr. Hale,” Brisbois, standing behind my father’s desk, turned, swiping an array of windows and documents off the front screen and onto the desktop panel, clearing his view. “Please, sit; I’m sure you must be exhausted.”

  One of the room’s plush leather chairs had been pulled in front of the desk. I collapsed into it with a grunt. Brisbois walked to the sideboard, smiling. “Is it presumptuous of me to offer you a glass of your own brandy?”

  I rubbed my forehead, chuckling. “Oh, very; I’d accept it anyway, if that helps.”

  He poured a liberal amount into one glass and a small puddle into another. Resting his back against the front of the mahogany desk, he leaned forward with a tight, sympathetic smile, handing me the larger glass. “How are you feeling?”

  I took the drink, smothering a hysterical laugh. “I don’t know if I’m feeling anything right now. Just…” I swished some brandy around my dry mouth, lowering the glass onto the armrest, “…shock. Pure bloody shock. I still can’t believe this is happening.”

  Brisbois swallowed his own mouthful of brandy with a nod, crossing behind the desk and easing himself into his chair. “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your father like this, Mr. Hale?”

  I shook my head hard, my mouth agape. “No, no one! He was–was–” I stuttered over a positive description of my father, the lie too much for even my grief to sustain. Turning away to stare at the floor, I brought my glass to my chest, speaking with slow deliberation. “Inspector, my father was not the easiest man to get along with. Quite frankly, we never got on very well ourselves. He was demanding,
and patronizing, and a genius businessman; I’m certain he made a few enemies in his time. But I honestly can’t think of anyone who would want to murder him.”

  Brisbois sat there for a moment, staring at me, assessing my character and doubtless finding me wanting. But at the time I couldn’t think of anything except the way my heart had stopped when I saw my father’s head smashed open on the floor.

  An EO officer knocked at the door and Brisbois walked to the open portal, accepting a small diskette from the woman. He let the door swing shut behind him, tapping the disk against his palm, olive eyes cutting into me like shards of glass.

  “Money can be a strong motivator for crimes like these, Mr. Hale. You’d be surprised how easily men will kill for it. And your father was a very wealthy man.”

  The hair on the back of my neck began to rise. I narrowed my eyes, shrugging. “Yes, I suppose he was.”

  Brisbois strolled back to his seat. “Do you know where your father kept his will, Mr. Hale?”

  “I know he had a copy of it on the docu-disk in the top drawer there.” I gestured to the desk, sipping my drink and wincing at the harsh flavors. “The official one is at his solicitors, I think, in Römer.”

  Brisbois made no move to validate my statement, leaning forward and meeting my eyes at last. “Do you know who benefits from his will?”

  I watched him, crossing my legs. “I do, I believe.”

  “Your father must have loved you very much.”

  “I don’t know how he felt about me; I never did.” I cleared my throat, scrutinizing the desk’s leg as my streak of honesty continued. “If my father left me anything it was because he was a stickler for tradition, the family name and all that. If he’d had another son, I’m sure he would’ve had no hesitations in passing me over.”

  “You’ve certainly hit the nail on the head there, Mr. Hale.” Brisbois’ stared at me in mock surprise, his eyes bright, but his lips pulled tight across his face.