Oversight (The Community Book 2)

by Santino Hassell

  “Elijah. I haven’t seen you in months.”

  Elijah ran a hand through his hair, gaze sweeping left and right before focusing on Holden again. In the past, he’d have leaped into Holden’s arms or pulled him into a grope-y hug, but now he fidgeted with his sleeves and shifted from foot to foot. “Do you think we can go somewhere to talk?”

  “I’ve been holed up in my office for too long as it is. Can it wait until I do my rounds?”

  Elijah bit his lower lip.

  “You’re welcome to do them with me.”

  “Okay.”

  The relief in Elijah’s face was concerning. Had he thought Holden would turn him away after all that had happened?

  Frowning, Holden pulled the slighter man into a brief hug before leading him on a stroll of the club’s perimeter. The dance floor was already packed, the lounges full of people sharing bottles and laughing, and the new bartenders were handling the influx of customers with ease. The best thing in the world Holden had done was to invest in bartenders who’d actually studied mixology, instead of people who’d just worked behind a bar in college. Wait times were shorter and the tendency for bartenders to over-pour was nearly eliminated.

  “The place looks different,” Elijah said quietly. “Did you tear down the stage?”

  “Yes. After what happened . . .” Holden glanced at the space where the stage had once been. He’d had it removed and expanded the dance floor. “I guess I couldn’t bear having other bands come in. It was a constant memory of what had happened, and it frankly felt disrespectful.”

  “I wouldn’t have felt that way. Neither would Taína or Lia.”

  “I know, but after losing two out of five members of the band . . . it was just . . .” The confidence he’d been trying to project was steadily dissipating. “It was too hard.”

  They paused at the edge of the dance floor, and Holden made a conscious effort to take the measure of the crowd who’d shown up tonight. There were very few unfamiliar faces. Six was somehow doing an amazing job of prioritizing Comm members. As Holden eyeballed a couple whose dancing was starting to border on public sex rather than raunchy grinding, Elijah snagged his hand.

  “Thanks for not being weird to me.”

  “Why would I be weird to you?”

  “Because I went AWOL. The guy at the door almost refused to let me in. I had to name-drop you.”

  Holden stopped grilling the couple to stare at Elijah. “Pardon?”

  “He like . . . interrogated me about where I’ve been. I dunno. It was weird as fuck.”

  A bolt of anger lit through Holden. He tightened his hand around Elijah’s, abandoned his rounds, and walked quickly in the direction of the patio. With the music only a soft hum on the other side of the door, and the gate lined with small white Christmas lights, it was almost cozy. A good escape from the bustle of the club, and one of the few places besides his office that he could go to think when he was overwhelmed by memories, or the evening, or life in general. Which happened far too much lately.

  “The doorman is new. Started tonight and instated by my father.” Holden said that part through gritted teeth, swallowing bitterness at having to admit it to someone who’d once looked up to him. “He’s worked security for the Comm for years. I don’t know why he’d be grilling you about your whereabouts.”

  Elijah curled up in one of the metal chairs, pulling his knees up beneath his chin. “If he’s a Community puppet, I get it. They’ve been trying to drag me to CW for counseling, but I’m really . . . not about that right now.”

  “Understandable. Nothing remains confidential.” Holden sat on the edge of the chair opposite Elijah but leaned forward so he could keep his voice low. “Why’ve they been trying to pull you in?”

  “I don’t know. But they’ve basically been stalking me. I was staying with Taína in Brooklyn, but Comm spooks kept knocking on the door and trying to give me an escort to the CW. She was getting freaked out, and I was too, after one of them mentioned realignment, which basically means going to the Farm to be talked at forever about why the Community is this amazing godsend for a poor bummy psy like me . . . blah.”

  Holden slowly nodded and ran his eyes over Elijah. He was different. Everything from the way he held himself to his tone of voice was a far cry from the enthusiastic boy who’d volunteered at the CW and given testimonials about how the Community had saved him.

  “I don’t remember you being this cynical,” Holden said.

  “I didn’t use to be this cynical. I used to think the Comm was a godsend that would keep me and my people safe.” Elijah laughed dryly. “What a joke that turned out to be. They sent a predator to infiltrate an LGBT space because they didn’t care enough to vet her and make sure she wasn’t a threat. All they cared about was someone making sure Evolution wasn’t making too many waves. When it comes down to it, everyone is just out for themselves.”

  “You mean my father is.”

  Elijah met his eyes. “Yes. Sorry, but yes. If he cared more, he wouldn’t have sent a murderer. There’s no way no one knew she was twisted by resentment and hate. Maybe they knew, and they dropped her here to get rid of her? It’s not like we matter to them.”

  “I see what you’re saying but . . .” But what? It was likely true. And yet Holden couldn’t help but defend his father. The Community. The people who’d allowed him to have this privileged life instead of growing up misunderstood and paranoid about his abilities like so many other young psys. “I just hope they learn from this experience even though it’s too late to make amends.”

  “They can’t make amends, and they don’t even try.” Elijah dropped his feet with a thump. “Anyway, that’s not why I wanted to talk to you. I want to know where Chase is.”

  “I don’t know, Elijah.”

  “But you’re his brother.”

  “Yes, but that doesn’t mean anyone tells me anything. As you said, my last name may be Payne, but my primary function is still just the owner of an LGBT space within the Community. I’m not privy to confidential—”

  “Why is it confidential?” Elijah demanded. “Chase didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, he tried to get me out before any of that went down—”

  “What?” Holden’s eyes narrowed. “When?”

  Elijah’s gaze dropped. He pressed his hands together. “He’d been trying to convince me to get out of town since Theo died. Was killed.”

  “How . . .” Holden pressed his fingers to his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Let me get this straight. My brother knew there was a danger in the club, a danger that put you at risk, and he didn’t say anything . . . to me?”

  “He didn’t even explain himself to me,” Elijah said quickly. “He just kept stressing that he wanted me to leave before things got bad. When I asked him to explain, he . . . I don’t even know, Holden. It was so strange. It was like he literally couldn’t explain it to me. He’d start to say something, and he’d stammer and break into a sweat, before finally snarling at me to just trust him. Every single time.”

  Holden’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand.”

  “I didn’t understand either, but there was definitely something he wanted to tell me and couldn’t. I’m betting it’s the same reason he didn’t tell you. And why . . . he instead found a way to get Nate here so he could pick up where Theo left off.”

  The explanation was at once overly convoluted and the most straightforward theory that had come up so far. He’d wondered why Nate had shown up in New York, how he’d found out the things he had, and why Chase would have sent him visions instead of a brother in the same city. One he worked with and saw every day. But he’d never gotten answers to those questions, because Chase had never come back.

  “Maybe Beck was exerting her control over him and preventing him from speaking?”

  Elijah shook his head. “She would have killed him. There’s no way she knew that he knew about her. That’s why he kept putting on his asshole act so hard when Nate got here—to keep up the
appearance that he was all on board with her. I just don’t know what was holding him back. And I don’t know how he knew what was coming when no other precogs saw it.”

  Holden ran a hand through his hair. Only then did he realize it was trembling. “Talking about this makes me feel sick.”

  “Same, but . . . I can’t stop. We need to find Chase. I just have this awful feeling that he’s in trouble.” Elijah rubbed his hands together before dragging them along the knees of his jeans. “I keep having these dreams . . . that he’s like . . . strapped down. And there’s this scary guy—”

  Holden’s heart leaped. Images from his own dreams rushed back, and he clearly saw the man with the cat eyes.

  “Does he have a tattooed band around—”

  For the second time that evening, a door opened abruptly and interrupted Holden. This time, instead of Richard Payne, it was his puppet. Six.

  Elijah automatically curled in on himself again, glaring up at Six from beneath his wild brown curls. Six stared back impassively before turning his attention to Holden.

  “Stefen is following my lead. I’m going to assess your security and begin making preparations for upgrades.”

  “No, you’re not. My security has been fine.”

  “Given the disappearances you were unable to track with your surveillance system and the murder, I would say it’s a fucking failure.” The words were harsh, but there was no heat in them. Six didn’t even raise his voice. He said it matter-of-fact, as though it were a normal way to converse with other people. After a beat, he looked at Elijah. “You should be encouraging Comm members to check in at the CW. It’s what Richard expects.”

  Elijah flipped him off without comment. Six didn’t react.

  Holden frowned, looking between the two. “That expectation has never been made clear to me. I didn’t realize we were supposed to check in, and I was raised in the Comm.”

  “Well, you’ve never been part of an investigation. Now you are.” Six jerked his chin at Elijah. “So is he. Get him to the CW, or I’ll make a call.”

  Elijah tensed. Holden crossed his arms over his chest.

  “Elijah, why don’t you let me and Six have a moment? I’ll find you in a bit.”

  “Sounds great.”

  Elijah shot Six one last glower before hurrying inside, likely out of the club and to the subway. Holden had forgotten to ask where he was staying now.

  The door shut with a bang, but Six didn’t jump. He didn’t do anything. Just stood there in his skintight polo and khakis, looking both absolutely gorgeous and like a blank slate. His lack of expression was alarming.

  “Do you understand that you’re being a fucking asshole?” Holden asked.

  Six raised an eyebrow. “No? I’m just telling you facts. Richard expects Comm members to check in on the regular, especially members who are involved in an active investigation.”

  “‘An active investigation,’” Holden repeated. “Meaning the investigation surrounding Beck.”

  “Surrounding all of you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The board is looking into all of you. They want to know how the perpetrator was allowed to prey on Comm members in this club for months, and how the psys who run the place never noticed. You’ll probably get off easy because of your last name,” he said bluntly. “But the others? Maybe not.”

  Holden’s eyes widened, and he took a step forward. “What the fuck are you talking about? They’re the ones who put her here! If my father, or the board, are investigating anyone, it should be themselves.” For the first time, a flicker of something crossed Six’s countenance. Interest? Intrigue? Holden had no idea, and he was too fired up to try to figure it out. “I have no idea why they’re trying to redirect the blame and find a scapegoat, but I won’t have you harassing my employees, my customers, or my friends. The next time you have a question, you ask me. Or I will kick your ass out of here regardless of what my father or the board has to say about it.”

  “That won’t happen, but duly noted.”

  Holden wanted to punch him. Punch him until he bled all over his goddamn beard. He didn’t know what was more infuriating—the dismissal or the calm tone it was said in. Richard had said Six didn’t perceive emotion the way others did, but did he even feel them?

  Again, Holden reached out with his gift, but this time it was like a steel gate slamming shut on him. The connection was cut off violently.

  “Don’t try to read me,” Six said. “It won’t work. And I can feel it. If you don’t want me fucking with your friends, you stay out of my head.”

  “Oh? Does it bother you, Sixtus?”

  “Yes. I frankly find you people creepy, and I’m glad I can keep you out.” Again with the brutal honesty in that flat tone. “Your father warned me you try to influence people with your gift, but rest assured—it won’t work with me. Don’t bother. You can’t affect my mood or my opinion, and you can’t seduce me with your little brain tricks.”

  Holden forced a smirk that likely resembled a snarl. “So I can seduce you in other ways?”

  “You’ll never find out if you keep relying on your empath shit, instead of the words and actions the rest of our species have utilized since we first evolved.” Six looked Holden over once, twice, then scoffed. “Put it to you like this: stay out of my head or I’ll beat the shit out of you.”

  “First you challenge me to seduce you and now you threaten me. Does my father know you’re this kinky?”

  “Your father doesn’t know a lot about me.” Six turned to the door. “I’m going to fix your shitty security system. Don’t bother arguing. Your opinion is literally worthless.”

  He was gone before Holden could get in a last word.

  Holden’s opinion did turn out to be worthless.

  In the week following Six’s abrupt intrusion into his life, they’d bickered over the security system until Holden had demanded they put it to a vote with the rest of Evolution’s crew. Surprisingly, Six had agreed. Unfortunately, the entire crew had voted against Holden.

  “You’re a traitor.”

  Kamryn, one of the new bartenders, didn’t look up from wiping down the bar. She cleaned it constantly throughout the day. Given Holden’s tendency to binge watch old episodes of Bar Rescue, he didn’t poke fun at her for it.

  “You’re being silly,” she said. “It’s a good idea. The old system was ancient.”

  “It worked perfectly fine.”

  “Holden, you’re being difficult because you don’t like him.”

  “I have no strong feelings about his existence one way or the other.” Holden examined his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He tucked hair behind his ear and tried not to pay attention to Six moving through the room behind him. It was a Wednesday night, so the place wasn’t as packed as it normally was. Now that they didn’t have live music, they attracted even less of a crowd at off-peak times, so he had no problem tracking Six as he went from the staircase to the patio. For such a big person, he was light-footed and moved with a certain elegance that was eye-catching.

  “Did you just zone out while staring at your own reflection?”

  Holden’s gaze snapped back to Kamryn. “No. I was watching our head of security. He’s always prowling around.”

  Kamryn rolled her eyes. “He’s really not that bad. It’s not that serious, Holden.”

  “‘Not that bad,’” he repeated. “How?”

  “He’s a little strange because he’s so straight-faced all the time, but he’s polite. Sometimes it seems as though he is actually trying to be friendly but doesn’t know how. It’s endearing.”

  Holden looked between her and Six’s reflection. “I’m sorry, are we talking about the same cyborg?”

  She snorted. “Yes. He even told some of us that his primary concern with having the security revamped is so nothing like what happened in the past can happen again.”

  Now that put Holden’s back up. He drew to his full height and crossed his arms over his chest. �
�I’m not sure what he means by that.”

  “Oh, come on, Holden. The disappearances? The murders? We all know, we still chose to work here anyway because we trust you and the Community to keep us out of harm’s way this time around. The way I see it, that’s what Six is trying to do as well. He doesn’t have the social skills to be . . . charismatic about it.”

  “I’m so glad you’ve gotten to know him that well. Did you also discuss the childhood trauma that turned him into a complete ass?”

  Kamryn held up a wineglass, inspecting it to ensure not a single particle clung to it. One of her big brown eyes focused on Holden through it as she arched an eyebrow. “We didn’t have personal conversations, boss. Just him trying to make me feel less awkward while he was installing cameras in my domain.” She put the glass down and swept an arm out around the bar. “If you stopped snarling and pissing all over the club to mark it as your own, you’d probably get along better and be less stressed out.”

  “Oh, is that so?”

  “Mm-hmm. You could try getting laid too.”

  Holden scoffed. “Trust me, that’s not an issue.”

  “So then talk to your security dude and stop being so damn extra.”

  Heaving a loud sigh, Holden eased off the bar chair. “Fine. I’ll go ask him to finally show me how the new computers work. But first—have you seen Elijah today?”

  She shook her head. “Not since last night. He was looking for you but was acting pretty cagey.”

  “Hmm. Okay, thanks.”

  “No problem.”

  Holden turned away from the bar, bypassing a small cluster of baby psys who were approaching for a drink. There had been a time when he’d been unable to spot a psychic in a crowd of voids, and he’d thought that was the way it was supposed to be. After all, he wasn’t a spotter like Beck. He couldn’t sense them. But . . . if he deliberately reached out with his gift, he could pick up on vibes that were just a little different from the average person. Everybody had emotions, but psys had this extra crackle of electricity that served almost as a signal to Holden that, Yes, this was someone like him. Someone different. Someone who also belonged to this group of misfits with gifts who’d come together as a family.