Null and Void

by Susan Copperfield

  I’d flirted so much with the idea of having Dylan as mine in my dreams I doubted I’d be able to resist the real thing if he did show up. “Well, my side isn’t nearly as romantic as having a leech fall hopelessly in love with me. He paid forty-eight million dollars for twenty-four hours.”

  Jessica cracked up laughing. “Go home, and if you haven’t had your medication today, wear your scarf and be careful until you can take it. You’re so tired you’re about to overshare. I don’t want to know the details. It’s quite obvious what you two were up to.”

  “I think you’re right.” I checked the clock. “It’s after midnight.”

  “Have a safe trip home, Mackenzie. I’ll call you in the morning about the testing, but so far, so good. She’s aced the preliminary tests, so now they’ll be refining her academic levels to know which classes she should be taking.”

  “Thanks, Jessica.”

  “Glad to help. Pat’s on his way back to Dallas to oversee the government while I’m in Colorado, so if you need anything, let him know.”

  I wouldn’t, but I wouldn’t tell her that—or him, either. “Should I just leave him a key so he doesn’t have to be inconvenienced breaking into my condo?”

  Jessica snickered. “Might not be a bad idea. It might lower his detail’s blood pressure.”

  I shook my head, wished the Texan queen a good evening, and set the phone on its cradle, marveling how my life had turned upside down so quickly.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I made the walk home aware I still had a few hours before I needed to take my next dose of medication, but I still wore a jacket and scarf home just in case. I hadn’t tested my luck, and I meant to keep my promise.

  When in doubt, I’d play it safe with my allergies.

  I enjoyed the walk, grateful no one had been waiting outside my office for me, and I relaxed as I climbed the steps to the front door. As always during the dead of night, Dallas quieted. I found the city serene, as though all the darkness in the world disappeared, leaving behind a sky filled with stars and a cool evening breeze.

  Something flashed and clicked, and I yelped, whirling to face the source. My heel caught on the edge of the step, and my ankle gave out beneath me. I whipped out my arm to catch the railing, clipping my wrist on the metal bar.

  Gravity took hold, and my shoulder smacked into the bottom step. The back of my head cracked into something, and the next thing I knew, someone was shining a bright light in my eyes.

  “Don’t move, Miss Little,” Winston, one of the complex’s night security guards, ordered. Red and blue lights splashed over the sidewalk. “You took a nasty fall.”

  Not moving worked for me. My ears rang, and jolting pain shot up my right leg. Once I added in the skull-splitting throb in my head, never moving again seemed fine to me. “Something flashed,” I slurred.

  “Someone took your photograph from the bushes, and you slipped on the step. You hit your head when you fell. Until we know if you hurt your neck, don’t move unless told, okay?”

  “I don’t suppose we can keep this a secret, can we?”

  “Sure. It’ll be a secret between me, you, the entirety of the evening security team, and the paramedics, who just arrived. I’m sure the pair of cops coming up the walkway would be happy to keep it a secret until they have to file a report.”

  I sighed. “I deserved that. How about we keep it a secret from my boss? I’m just going to blame my medications. The ones that let me go cold places. Those medications.”

  “We’re aware of your medications. Elis is running up to your unit now to fetch your prescriptions to make certain there are no issues at the hospital.”

  Considering how badly my ankle hurt, I wouldn’t be surprise if I’d broken it. Tears burned my eyes, and I clenched my teeth so I wouldn’t start snarling—or worse, screaming profanities so I wouldn’t cry.

  A pair of paramedics descended, and whatever they saw when they flashed their lights in my eyes displeased them enough they trapped my neck in a brace and carted me to the hospital, where my least favorite person on Earth was manning the ER, Dr. Teslink.

  He looked me over and planted his hands on his hips. “You’re not here asphyxiating?”

  While my neck was trapped in a brace and strapped down to make sure I couldn’t move my head, there was nothing wrong with either hand, and I flipped my middle fingers in his direction. “I’m on preventative prescriptions.”

  His eyebrows rose. “You’re actually taking them?”

  “My next dose is at seven in the morning, and I’d really like to avoid missing it. It’d be a shame if I could walk without impairment.”

  “Lethargy and coordination issues?”

  “Some of both, but that’s not why I fell down the stairs.”

  One of the cops cleared his throat. “Someone flashed their camera at her from the bushes near her home. She fell down the steps. It’s being treated as a criminal investigation, so we’re going to require a copy of the medical record as evidence.”

  “You’re aware Miss Little is a null and doesn’t—”

  “We require a complete copy of her medical record as evidence, and you and your hospital will be held liable if we find you’ve refused to do your jobs due to her caste.” The cop’s tone chilled. “If you can’t do your job, bring in someone who can.”

  “Dr. Glaskow’s nice,” I added. “But he doesn’t work at this hospital.”

  To my delight, the cop browbeat Dr. Teslink so much he left and didn’t come back. The next doctor was a woman, and she took one look at me and lost her temper, turning on the nurses with the same viciousness I expected from a grizzly protecting her cubs. They scattered, and as soon as she placed some calls, she went to work.

  Her name was Dr. Tiffany, and if she had a last name, she refused to tell me what it was. The first thing she did, after consulting with me, was contact Dr. Glaskow. Then she injected me with painkillers, which agreed with me. Thirty minutes later, he showed up, and I waved at him cheerfully. “We meet again.”

  “Thanks for calling me, Tiff,” he said before prowling around me. “What happened?”

  “Tumble down a flight of stairs, and with her allergies, I didn’t want to use the machines without you on hand. The metal’s almost always cold here, and they’ve been keeping the rooms frigid.”

  “Have you been taking your medication, Mackenzie?”

  “On time, every day. My next dose is supposed to be at seven.”

  “All right. I’ll watch for reactions while you work your magic, Tiff. Let’s not take any risks.”

  “That’s why I called you. The coppers were angsty, and they made it clear they’d be filing charges if anything happens. Dr. Teslink cut corners.”

  “He one of the doctors who didn’t give you a preventative, Mackenzie?”

  “Sure is,” I sang out.

  “What the hell painkillers did you give her? She’s higher than a kite, Tiff.”

  “Morphine. I’m having a hell of a time reading her, but I’m pretty sure she fractured something in her ankle, and with her urticaria, I can’t get a cold compress on it.”

  Dr. Glaskow cursed, and I broke down into a helpless fit of giggles. “You gave her morphine? Did you miss the concussion symptoms, or…?”

  “I did a scan when I first saw her. Sure, she’s hard to read, but concussions are an easy check. Her concussion’s minor at worst, and there’s no damage to her neck. I left the brace so she wouldn’t try to get up and damage her foot further.”

  “All right. Let’s get to work, then.”

  The doctors worked together, and thanks to the morphine, I didn’t understand half of what they were doing. Instead of a cast, I got a black, heavy boot that encased my foot and half of my calf, tight enough I could barely wiggle my toes.

  The machines confirmed I had a fracture, and the sensitivity of Dr. Tiffany’s magic impressed me, as the fracture hurt like hell but would heal on its own within a few weeks. I wouldn’t need the crutche
s for more than a few days, so I’d be able to hide the injury if no one looked at my feet.

  I could wear baggy jeans to work to cover the boot. Maybe I could revive the bellbottom trend. Since laughing beat crying, I giggled through my ER visit. A little after six in the morning, I called for a cab and headed home, discovering the joy of attempting to climb stairs with crutches.

  The morphine departed along with the cab.

  Winston beat me to the door, holding it open for me. “How are you feeling, Miss Little?”

  I held up one of my crutches. “See this?”

  “I do.”

  “If I ever meet the photographer that was hiding in the bushes, I’m bludgeoning him to death with this crutch.”

  “Rest assured we’ve already addressed the security gap that allowed this to happen. If that photographer knows what’s good for him, him and his pictures will disappear, as there will be assault charges pressed.”

  “How secret is this?”

  “While the police were notified, we were able to convince them to preserve your privacy. Unless someone actively looks for a bulletin about you in the system, no one will know what happened.”

  I’d have to cross my fingers that the Royal Protection Service had already checked my police records and wouldn’t again for a while. “Thanks, Winston.”

  “Of course. I know you value your privacy. Call the desk if there’s anything you need today, okay?”

  I nodded despite having zero intention of bothering anyone with anything I needed. Once inside the elevator, relieved Winston hadn’t felt the need to tail me upstairs, I called the office and left a message on Louisa’s voice mail that I’d be out of the office.

  Per Dr. Glaskow’s orders, I took my regular medication, added a little white painkiller to the mix, and went to bed.

  I dropped into dreamless sleep the instant my head hit the pillow. My phone ringing woke me, and with a snarl, I grabbed the wretched device and flung it across the room.

  It fell silent, and hissing a few extra curses, I rolled over and went back to sleep.

  The next noise to wake me was a persistent knock at my door. I rolled out of bed and decided if anyone wanted to talk to me, they’d have to deal with me wearing my pajamas. I hopped across my condo, realized I’d left my crutches in the bedroom, and hobbled for the door, cracking it open.

  Two men in the blue and red uniforms of the Texas police waited in the hall.

  “Police,” one barked, and I was amazed he hadn’t retired several decades ago.

  The AC in the hallway wafted into my condo, and I flinched from the chill, backing away so I wouldn’t have to put my preventative medication to the test. “Come in, please. How can I help you, officers?”

  I walked to the kitchen to make coffee, and they followed me, and without invitation, they sat at my table for two, and I wanted to snarl at the older man for taking my daughter’s chair. Since I’d regret scolding a cop for being rude, I went through the motions of making a pot of coffee while I waited for one of them to decide to answer my question.

  “Security warned us we’d likely be waking you,” the older gentleman stated while his partner, who was much younger than me by at least a few years, sneaked peeks at me. “Someone in the security department here filed a police report on your behalf regarding a reporter photographing your activities. Our records show that you’re a null. We have some questions for you.”

  No matter how many things changed, so much remained the same. “What questions, sir?”

  “Why would a reporter want to take your picture? Please don’t misunderstand, Miss Little. You’re a very pretty woman, but that’s no reason for a reporter to ambush you in the middle of the night.”

  “I understand.” I did, too. Even for normal women of other castes, reporters wouldn’t ambush someone simply because she was pretty. “I’m a recent appointee for a congressional committee. As such, I’ve been involved with several public hearings. As it’s an unusual situation, reporters want to get photographs for their latest scoop.”

  “But you’re a null. You can’t be employed by the public sector.”

  “I’m not employed by the public sector. I work—”

  Someone knocked at my door, and I pressed the brew button on my coffee pot before limping to the entry, regretting I’d left my crutches in my bedroom. I cracked open the door and peeked into the hallway to discover my boss and Senator Forester waiting outside.

  Both looked rather miffed.

  I closed the door, turned, and pressed my back to the smooth wood. “I work as a consultant for congress, and my boss is standing in the hallway.”

  “Yes, I am, Mackenzie,” my boss replied, his voice muffled and soft enough I could barely hear him.

  “Your caste prohibits you from working in any public sectors.”

  Two allies against two cops seemed like the only way I could emerge from the conversation without being arrested, so I hopped on one foot, opened the door, and let the pair in. “Sorry, Mr. Smithson,” I mumbled.

  My boss locked onto my booted foot with the unerring accuracy of a hound after a fox. “You broke your foot?”

  Senator Forester squeezed past my boss, joined him in staring at my foot, and clucked his tongue. The next instant, he tossed me over his shoulder, took the few steps to my couch, and dumped me on it. “Stay,” he ordered.

  My entire face flushed red. “Senator Forester!”

  “Mackenzie Little!” he replied, mimicking my tone while pointing at my boot. “Those things come with crutches. Where are your crutches?”

  “Bedroom.” I refused to look at him, but I pointed in the right direction.

  “And your phone? We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning. You’ve gone and worked Jessica into a panic, as she was trying to get a hold of you and you’re not answering her calls. As you’ve never missed a call from her, she’s convinced the sky is falling. She almost sent Pat over with enough food to feed an army, convinced you needed rescuing.”

  “Bedroom,” I repeated.

  “I’ll get the phone, Lane. You deal with the cops,” my boss said, heading for my room. A moment later, he yelped. “What the hell did you do to your phone, Mackenzie?”

  “It may have been thrown across my bedroom.” I bit my lip, aware of how I’d gotten that phone and what its loss represented. Without it, all I had left to remind me of Dylan was his daughter and a box full of things I couldn’t use because they were all made with gold in some fashion or another.

  I was, piece by piece, losing his daughter to the rest of her life.

  “It’s in at least ten different pieces, and there’s a hole in your wall.”

  I wanted to believe there was no way I was going to cry over a phone, but my eyes burned and my throat clenched.

  Senator Forester crouched in front of me, and he grabbed a tissue from the coffee table and wiped my cheeks. “It’s okay, Mackenzie. I’ll take the phone in and see if it can be repaired, and if it can’t be, I’ll try to get all your data off. What happened?”

  “Excuse me!” the old cop said, rising to his feet. “We’re in the middle of—”

  “Silence,” Senator Forester snapped.

  On the average day, I didn’t pay much attention to the talents of others; I’d never have magic, so I tried to avoid thinking of what others possessed. Flames cloaked the senator, then they streamed out and condensed into pulsing ball.

  A soothing heat radiated from the him and the sphere.

  I lifted my hand, but before I could poke at the ribbons of orange and red, Senator Forester caught my hand. Some of the flames cloaking him spread and danced over my skin, and my eyes widened. While warm, the fire didn’t burn.

  “Better. First, I heard you berating Miss Little because she is ranked as a null. Allow me to enlighten you gentlemen. Miss Little is, on the demand of the Montana Royal family, in charge of the auction Texas is hosting this year. His Royal Majesty of Montana made the official announcement yesterday that
he would be participating in our auction and looked forward to working with Miss Little. As such, she is a person of interest. If anything has threatened Miss Little’s safety, she has been approved for an RPS detail and has already been assigned an agent.” Senator Forester’s glare landed on me for a moment. “Whom I’ll be calling as soon as I’m finished here.”

  My boss emerged from my bedroom with the broken pieces of my phone in his hands, which he set on my kitchen counter. Striding to my side, he held out his phone. “Please call Jessica before she has a meltdown. She’s listed under HRMJ in my contacts. If you tell her there are police here, she’ll take care of them.”

  Senator Forester released me, and with slumped shoulders, I found Jessica’s contact and connected the call.

  “Any word?” the queen demanded.

  “It’s Mackenzie, Jessica. My phone broke, so I couldn’t answer your call. I’m sorry.”

  “Thank god. We’ve been trying to get a hold of you all morning. What happened to your phone?”

  “I had a disagreement with it.”

  “You smashed it to pieces,” my boss contributed, loud enough I had no doubt Jessica could hear him.

  “I had a somewhat violent disagreement with my phone. In my defense, I was mostly asleep when it happened.”

  “But you’re all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  Senator Forester grabbed my boss’s phone out of my hand. “It’s Lane. There are two cops in here who were grilling her for being a null involved in congress, she’s in tears because her phone is broken, and her foot is in a cast.”

  “It’s a boot, actually,” I protested.

  Not to be left out, my boss stepped closer, and I realized he had my hospital invoice in his hand. He waved the discriminating documents at me. “You broke your foot!”

  “Douglass has uncovered evidence she has a broken foot.”

  I scowled. “It’s a hairline fracture.”

  “Fracture means broken,” Senator Forester replied. “Sorry, Jessica. She’s getting feisty. I’m about half a minute from scorching a pair of cops. Can you take care of them for me so I don’t have to scorch them?”