The Devil You Know

by Kit Rocha

  Rainbow shook her head and pressed the button. The scanner started, and she watched it intently. “I promised,” she whispered. “I made a deal with Maya. To scan books in exchange for the clothes she bought me.”

  “Okay, but … you don’t have to do it right this second.” Except maybe this was her way of dealing with the tension and stress that was permeating everything. “Unless you just want to.”

  The girl finally looked at Nina. Only for a moment, her eyes huge and haunted, before her gaze jumped back to the scanner. “I won’t be here much longer.”

  She said it so matter-of-factly, but her eyes held such startling pain that Nina reflexively shook her head. “Where are you going?”

  It was Knox who answered. “Did you hear us talking, Rainbow?”

  Rainbow hunched her shoulders again and said nothing.

  Oh, hell. “Honey—” Nina turned the stool so that Rainbow was facing them and bent a little at the waist, putting her face level with the girl’s. “We wanted to talk to you about why Syd’s coming here and what’s going to happen.”

  Her small feet swung above the floor. She was wearing the shoes Rafe had helped her pick out—sneakers with rainbow laces. Knox crouched down and tightened the loose laces on her left shoe. “How much did you hear?”

  “Just that she’s coming to take us.” Rainbow bit her lip. “I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

  Nina smoothed an errant lock of hair behind the girl’s ear. “Syd is coming to help, because that’s what she does. She has a place for people like us, where we can be safe while we figure things out.”

  “I hear it’s pretty nice.” Knox smiled up at Rainbow. “There’s a lake, and horses. Lots of space to run around. Ava has been there, so she could tell you more about it.”

  Rainbow’s big, green eyes still looked sad. “And that’s where we’d live?”

  Knox nodded. “For a little while. Some people stay there, but most people … Syd helps them find families. People who are special, like you, who can help you learn how to live in the world.”

  “So the question,” Nina said softly, “is whether you want to go there with the other kids or stay here. With us.”

  Rainbow’s head jerked up. She looked back and forth between them, eyes widening. “I can stay?”

  “Oh, honey. Of course you can. We don’t have ponies, and it’s not as nice as Syd’s compound. You’ll be the only kid. But we all want you here, if that’s what you choose.”

  “Oh.” It was a whisper of wonder. Her small brow furrowed. “What about the others?”

  “Nina already talked to them,” Knox told her. “They decided to go with Syd and see if they can find families of their own. But you already found one, if you want it.”

  Rainbow moved in a tiny blur, flinging herself off the stool and into Knox’s swiftly opened arms. Her arms twined around his neck, and he held her, one hand gently patting her back, and smiled at Nina over Rainbow’s shoulder.

  Nina had no idea if this was the best decision for Rainbow or not, but Knox spoke the truth. In the short amount of time she’d spent with them, she’d become part of their little blended family. They could have let her go if that was what she wanted, but otherwise, it was unthinkable.

  Tears pricked Nina’s eyes, and she blinked them away with a smile of her own. “Come on. Ivonne made dinner—everything fresh, nothing freeze-dried. We can’t miss that.”

  Knox rose to his feet and extended a hand to Rainbow. She accepted it, and offered Nina her other hand shyly.

  Instead of grasping it, Nina hooked their little fingers together and raised their hands in a gesture she remembered so well from childhood. “Families are forever, especially the ones you make yourself. Remember that, Bo.”

  “I will,” she promised solemnly.

  “Good.” Sometimes, that vow was all they had.

  TECHCORPS PROPRIETARY DATA, L2 SECURITY CLEARANCE

  From: SKOVGAARD, B

  To: RICHTER, T

  Date: 2075–05–09

  You may want to update your latest addition to 66–793’s recruit file. It’s unlikely you’ve been aggressively monitoring him for fourteen years, as he’s only been a recruit for nine.

  From: RICHTER, T

  To: SKOVGAARD, B

  Date: 2075–05–09

  I monitor a lot of people, Birgitte. It’s a fact you’d do well to remember.

  TWENTY-NINE

  The first thing Gray heard was Maya’s voice.

  “‘… but that didn’t matter. All the intimidation in the world didn’t matter. She was Marjorie Starborn, and she had a job to do. Thankfully, she wouldn’t have to do it alone.’”

  He frowned—or, at least, he tried to. Her voice was so clear, lilting over consonants and vowels, rising and falling in a rhythm he knew now like the beating of his own heart.

  Was it a dream? It felt like one, hazy darkness pierced by one single dazzling point of light. Or maybe—

  Maybe—

  He flexed his fingers, then tried to curl them into a fist. It didn’t work perfectly, which was perversely what convinced him he was definitely alive. Imperfection was a realm reserved for the living.

  He opened his eyes.

  Maya was sitting cross-legged on a cot next to his bed, a paperback book open on her lap. Her fingers traced the edges of the page as she read, the touch reverent.

  Maya. It came out garbled, more like a groan than her name.

  Her head jerked up. The book fell from her lap as she scrambled to her feet, her fingers closing around his hand a moment later. “Gray? Can you hear me?”

  It took a herculean effort, but he squeezed her fingers.

  Tears filled her eyes. She lifted his hand, kissed it, and turned toward the door. “Mace! He’s awake!”

  Heavy, quick footsteps pounded through the building, such a flurry of them that Gray thought he could feel each impact jarring up through the bed. Mace hurried in, intent on listening and measuring and assessing.

  Gray kept staring at Maya. She looked okay, tired and sad but unhurt. He ignored Mace’s fussing and asked the first thing, the most important—for all their sakes, but especially hers. “Richter?”

  “Dead.” She twined her fingers with his and smiled shakily. “Do you remember choking him?”

  When he tried, everything was fuzzy and far away, more like trying to picture something imaginary than anything real and remembered. “I don’t think so.”

  “You were incredibly badass.” She used her free hand to dash away tears. “And so was I. I shot out the lights and took out the guards, just like you taught me.”

  Pride made his chest swell—until Mace intruded, ruining the moment. “Your vitals look good. We’ll keep monitoring your ICP, but I’m pleased. You’ll need a full neurological workup—”

  “Will it wait?”

  “I’m afraid not,” Mace said. “You made it through the surgery alive somehow. Now, we have to keep you this way.”

  Maya moved over to make room for Mace’s exam, her eyes still wet with tears. Gray struggled to sit a little straighter but winced when surgical tape pulled at the skin of his neck and scalp.

  He reached up and felt only bare skin punctuated by bandages. “What happened?”

  “You started seizing after you killed Richter. You were crashing. I—” She hesitated, then plowed ahead. “I’m the one who made the call. I thought you’d want to go out fighting. So I told Mace to try to replace your implant.”

  “I don’t understand. That wasn’t…” He trailed off as he realized what she wasn’t saying. What the look in her eyes meant. “Savitri?”

  “It wasn’t as bad as you think.” Maya perched on the edge of his bed. “I mean, I would have made a deal with the devil himself, but … I don’t think she’s going to get pushy. I’m worth too much as an ally, now that Richter is gone.”

  But she had promised the woman something, and Maya had too much integrity to renege on a deal once it was struck. Gray stared at her
, searching her face as well as his soul.

  And he didn’t know what he felt.

  A handful of memories surfaced in his brain at once. A wickedly sharp blade slicing into his skin. Unimaginable agony. Silence. Maya, sobbing.

  Then another recollection supplanted them all, just as painful in its own way as the others—the certainty of death.

  He’d been ready to die.

  The door flew open, and Knox rushed in, his face tight with tension. He stopped at the other side of Gray’s bed, his assessing gaze sweeping over him in a familiar manner. Knox’s expression finally eased. “You’re alive?”

  “I am,” Gray answered, almost wincing at the wooden sound of his own voice.

  Maya noticed. Beside the bed, she went rigid, doubt clouding her eyes. Gray wanted to say something, to comfort or reassure her—

  But he’d been ready to die.

  “Yeah, yeah, you’re alive. Show-off.” Conall shoved past Knox, looking a little paler than usual but grinning like he couldn’t stop. “You know, I survived a gut shot and was planning to milk it for maximum sympathy, but you had to one-up me with impossible brain surgery.”

  That startled Gray out of his distraction. “You what?”

  “Later,” Dani said from the doorway. “Nina’s going on about how you need ice cream. What flavor do you like?”

  He had no clue. “I’ve never eaten ice cream before.”

  “What the fuck?” Dani seemed truly affronted. “Well, I guess that means we’re getting all of them.”

  “Make sure there’s peach,” Maya told her. “And get some pie. I think we all deserve pie.”

  “I know I deserve pie,” Conall said. “I had Rafe’s hands in my guts.”

  “Lucky you.” Rafe slipped past Conall and slugged Gray lightly on the shoulder. “Good to see you up, man.”

  “Not quite yet. Did we find the kids?”

  “Ivonne’s taking care of them for now. Ava has a contact who’s coming to pick them up.” Rafe’s smile widened. “All except Rainbow.”

  Maya tilted her head up to meet Gray’s eyes. “She’s staying with us,” she said softly. “That’s what she wanted.”

  “Good.” So many of them were orphaned in one way or another. Their families were dead, or had disowned them, or had to be kept at arm’s length in order to protect them. Hell, a few of them were exactly like Rainbow—they’d never had families at all.

  It was the one thing Richter had stolen from Gray before he ever even knew the man’s name. Not his future, or his potential, or even his peace of mind. He’d struggled through and found all of those things, after a fashion.

  But never a family. Not until he’d been assigned to the Silver Devils. They crowded around his bed, eager to reassure themselves that he was still here. And he was—there, alive, and going to be just fine.

  Gray mostly hated himself for not knowing how he felt about that.

  November 13th, 2080

  I believe Richter knows. Worse, I believe he’s gathering proof. Contingencies must be set in place.

  He will not have Marjorie.

  The Recovered Journal of Birgitte Skovgaard

  THIRTY

  Scanning books had lost some of its charm.

  With Gray still oddly withdrawn and silent, Maya had retreated to her safe haven. Box after box sat stacked against the wall, waiting for her to lovingly digitize and catalog their contents. Thousands of books that had waited underground for decades, alone and forgotten, would finally flow out into the community again.

  Usually the potential of it excited her. But she’d finished the cookbooks and moved on to gardening without feeling the spark. The 2030s rooftop gardening craze had provided ample how-to guides that would be in hot demand come spring, but Maya couldn’t find her usual enthusiasm.

  She’d saved Gray’s life. And now she wasn’t sure he had actually wanted her to.

  So much for miracles.

  The scanner beeped softly. She set aside Upcycled Container Gardening and replaced it with 24 Gardening Containers You Already Own. She didn’t even have to think to start the process all over again. Press the button. Check the entry. Confirm the metadata.

  This had been more exciting when her algorithm was buggy as hell.

  “I’m glad you’re finding my gift useful.”

  Maya didn’t even jump. Maybe she was just too tired to be startled. Which was probably a good thing—if she’d pulled a gun on Ava, she would have lost a few fingers. “It’s very nice,” she said without turning around. “If I tell you how nice it is, will you promise not to buy me a citrus juicer?”

  Ava appeared in her peripheral vision, dressed in her usual chic business-casual black—a blouse with a neckline cut deep enough to show off her necklace that matched Nina’s, wide-legged black trousers, heeled boots, a sleek leather belt, and a statement buckle so large Maya was pretty sure the prong doubled as a throwing knife.

  Ava leaned one hip against the counter and picked up Upcycled Container Gardening. “You shouldn’t be so hasty to reject the juicer, you know. I saw one last week that recycles the rinds in order to 3D print biodegradable cups.”

  “I don’t need biodegradable cups,” Maya said patiently. “I have normal glass cups. You wash and then reuse them. Multiple times.”

  “If you insist.” She paged through the book, speaking her next words without looking up. “You seem sad.”

  Great. Her distress had reached levels so perilous even Ava had noticed. Maya’s eyes burned, and she bit the inside of her cheek hard. She would not cry in front of this woman. “In case you didn’t notice, I’ve been through some shit.”

  “I know.” A brief pause. “Did Nina tell you much about our sister?”

  “About Zoey?” Her curiosity finally piqued, Maya turned on her stool to fully face Ava. “Some. You were all designed to be good at different things. Nina was the fighter, you were strategy, and Zoey was…”

  “Our heart.” The corner of Ava’s mouth barely ticked upward. “You all think Nina is warm and loving, but even she could seem harsh and pragmatic compared to Zoey. Zoey was light. Zoey was everything good in the world.”

  “I never really understood that,” Maya admitted. “Why make someone like that and give them superpowers? Seems like it’d be impossible to get them to go out and do bad shit for you.”

  “You of all people know better than that, Maya.” Ava finally closed the book and set it aside, turning the full force of her gaze on Maya. “How many of the people in the TechCorps are completely convinced that every day they are working to advance the greatest good?”

  Too many. Of course, the greatest good for them somehow never took into account collateral damage. “Are you trying to make me even sadder?”

  “No. I’m trying to…” Her brow furrowed and she made a frustrated noise. “I’m not Zoey. Or Nina. I can’t soothe you with hugs and soft, comforting words.”

  “Uh, no shit,” Maya retorted. “Trust me, Ava. Last thing I expected from you.”

  “But I can tell you the truth.”

  Oh, God help her. Maya wasn’t sure she wanted whatever truths Ava had to offer. But the quickest way to get rid of her was probably to just let her say her piece. She could curl up in a ball and cry once Ava tired of trying to connect. “Sure, let’s hear it.”

  Ava met her gaze squarely. “What’s happening with Gray isn’t your fault.”

  It hit her straight in the chest, and tears filled her eyes. Maya wasn’t sure why she hadn’t expected it—Ava always knew exactly where to hit to cause the most pain. Except she wasn’t looking at Maya like she wanted to cause pain. If anything, Maya’s tears seemed to agitate her.

  “It’s not your fault,” Ava repeated, her voice soft. “You didn’t do the wrong thing by saving him.”

  To her horror, a sob welled up in Maya’s chest. She tried to choke it back, but the question tearing through her came out in a broken whisper. “Then why is he pushing me away?”

  “Becaus
e it hurts,” Ava whispered. “It’s so hard to give up a dream. You have to kill it every time it tries to take root. You have to tell yourself over and over again that you don’t get the future you want more than anything. You have to salt the earth in your own heart.”

  Maya had never done that. She’d accepted the risk, she’d promised Gray she was okay with it. But she’d never torn out hope by the roots. She’d held on, daring reality to take him from her.

  Gray hadn’t had that luxury. He’d had to face his own mortality.

  “And then,” Ava continued, “one day someone hands the dream back to you. This tiny, fragile seedling. And you have to find a way to plant it in barren soil and keep it from dying. And that hurts, too.”

  An ache totally unrelated to Gray settled in Maya’s chest. For a moment, with her expression unguarded and her eyes soft with remembered pain, the resemblance between Ava and Nina was uncanny.

  And that was the dream Ava was talking about. The dream of finding her sister alive. Ava was clearly still struggling to find fertile earth to shelter the awkward, feeble seedling of that dream. The fact that she was here, making an obviously difficult effort to comfort Maya, said it all.

  Weirdly, it did make Maya feel better. If Ava, in all her dysfunctional glory, could come back from the edge, Gray would find his feet. She just had to hold on.

  She had to trust him, the same way he’d trusted her.

  Maya dragged in a shuddering breath and scrubbed tears from her cheeks. “You did pretty good with the truth.”

  “I don’t usually,” Ava admitted. Then, surprisingly, she smiled wryly. “If you’d like to hear something soothing … So far Gray has handled this better than I did. He hasn’t kidnapped anyone that I know of. Perhaps that’s a good sign.”

  She wasn’t sure if the sound she made was another sob or hysterical laughter. “I don’t know how soothing that is considering he just underwent brain surgery. Maybe you should stick to hard truths.”

  “Probably.” Ava picked up Maya’s tablet and idly scrolled through the recently scanned book. “I think it will be all right, Maya. I may not have Zoey’s emotional intelligence, but I have an extremely developed awareness of the tactical implications of interpersonal relationships.”