by Jody Klaire
“Why, ’cause you can play a fiddle?” I asked, using Nan’s name for it.
“It’s a violin.”
“Same difference.” I shrugged. “It’s not like it’s hard. It’s not even a proper skill. You can’t build or buy nothin’ with a hunk of wood and strings.” If my last dig hadn’t gotten to her, I was sure that would get her riled.
“Excuse me?” Miranda shoved her nose in the air. “I doubt you can even read let alone music.”
Wow, I didn’t have a lot of admiration for Jed’s taste in women. “Even a child can play them. I bet you’re not even playing something original for the gala, are you?”
She glared like she would impale me on her bow. Easy to reel in.
“Classical musicians have about as much originality as a fast food joint anyhow.”
Miranda slunk onto one hip. I was getting through, good. “You’re comparing incredible artists with people in a burger joint?”
How superior. “Yeah, both of you are just following what somebody showed you. Someone else did the creating, they were the genius. You ain’t doing nothing a computer program couldn’t.”
“And what about expression?” Her voice shot up an octave. I tried not to smile.
“Big deal. Loud, quiet, fast, slow . . . burger has ketchup, mayo, or plain . . .”
I half wished I could take a picture of her without the camera blowing up ’cause she was a beautiful color purple. “I mean fiddle players . . . you’re all pretty predictable, right. Who doesn’t play the Chaconne when they want to pretend they are good?” I shook my head. “Like a production line.”
I’d seen when I walked in that was the score she had. She sucked in her chin, stomped up to me, and thrust her violin into my hands.
“If you’re so clever, you play it.”
“Easy . . . music?” I smiled a sweet smile at her.
She ripped the stand up, slammed it down in front of me, throwing the music my way. I held the violin upside down, for comic effect, as she shot a sneer at me.
The glint in her eyes was enough. I’d played the piece in Serenity a lot. It wasn’t my favorite piece but it was a test. It made you work technically, it tested your stamina. It also looked impressive. I turned the violin around the right way. I gave a nice ear-grating bow just to make her wince.
“Ready?” I asked, ignoring the fact Renee had just wandered into the room. Did she have a tracker on me or something?
“This oaf thinks she can play Bach.” Miranda sniggered, a snide smile on her face.
Renee nodded and took a seat to the side.
Not wanting to look at her, I focused on the music and started to play.
Miranda’s jaw dropped as I caressed the strings. The thing about Chaconne Partita Number Two in D was that it resembled a workout. It tested strengths in both hands, it got harder and harder and finished with a flourish. The ultimate showpiece. It lasted fifteen minutes too, so any weakness was gonna show up.
There were sections to it and I learned to play them all by heart. By the time I got to the last section, I stopped pretending I was reading the score and closed my eyes. I savored the sound, the release, and let my heart take over. Every note resonated with all I felt.
I finished and opened my eyes.
Miranda stared like I’d grown a moustache and Renee was dabbing at her eyes.
There was a strange connection between her and me playing the violin. I couldn’t explain it but the music seemed to dance around her in quiet moments when we talked.
I missed that. I missed that bond. Well, at least the bond I thought had been there. She was a stranger now, so distant, so hostile.
Would I ever be able to have the energy or be willing to try and bridge the gap again?
I couldn’t do it by myself. I was in no man’s land ready to sound the retreat and just accept she weren’t the friend I’d thought she was.
Still, I missed her smiling at me, dumb as it sounded. I missed her real accent, the joy in her eyes when she found me funny.
A wave of melancholy hit me as I kept my gaze locked with hers. I wondered if I’d just chosen to see what I needed to in a tough time and forgotten all the misunderstandings, the hurt, and the confusion that had come with knowing her.
“Where did you learn to play like that?” Miranda asked, her voice a lot more respectful now.
I broke the link with Renee, turned to her, and put the violin on a chair. “Prison.”
Miranda’s shoulder’s hitched up. “But you’re a genius, the way you played . . .”
“I’m just repeating what a load of other violinists could do just as well. Bach was the genius.” I hated how sad, how drained I felt. “It wouldn’t matter if I was a genius.”
“Of course—”
“No.” My voice wobbled. I took a breath. “Jobs, duty, career, they just mean you get paid.” I sighed. “Love what you do, sure, but it don’t make you no better than anybody else.” I avoided looking at Renee. “It won’t ever make you happy neither.”
“Performance, glory, they make me feel good.” Miranda’s barrier lowered. The uncertainty clear. I got a flash of why.
“They give you a cheap thrill. Happiness, love, being free, it comes from inside.” How could I explain it to her without revealing what the truth of her situation was? “You can’t control what goes on around you with a violin. It’s a friend, sure, but it ain’t a weapon.”
Miranda shook her head and picked at her sleeves. “It can buy me a better life.”
I was glad she didn’t know the true weight of her words. It would buy her a life of slavery. “It buys nice stuff. It don’t mean you’ll feel any less alone when you have it.”
I could feel Renee’s gaze on my cheek. I kept my eyes on Miranda.
“Building up a wall, pretending you don’t care, it may stop folks hurting you but take it from me, being lonely is a lot worse.”
She bit her lip. “I can’t get distracted.”
“Kid,” I said, walking over to her. “Your wrist is so bad that you can’t sleep, you can barely move your neck. Your head is full of so many worries that you can’t even stand the sight of it anymore.” I sat beside her and we both looked at the discarded violin. “Your mom would have loved you even if you’d never played a single note, no matter what they told you.”
Her eyes widened at my words. She’d never told a soul what drove her.
“How do you know that?” Her voice was quiet enough that I could hear Renee shifting in her seat.
“Because my mom weren’t around neither. She still ain’t. Although she got a funny way of showing it, she loves me . . . in her own way.” A prickly feeling rippled up and down my arms. I felt raw just talking about it. “Judging by your nice violin, she loved you like all moms should.”
“I used to . . .” She sighed. “I used to feel her when I played.” She ran her hands through her hair, undoing her ponytail. “It was like she was with me but I don’t feel her anymore.”
“Try playing what’s in your heart next time.” I sensed the storm around Miranda weaken. “She’ll be there.”
“It hurts so bad when I play.” She didn’t need to tell me, the kid was in agony.
“Then rest.” If I’d had my burdens, I would have fixed it for her but Frei’s words about me not interfering entered my mind. “You’ve been playing since you could hold a bow. You know what you’re doing.”
“I can’t mess up at the gala—”
“No.”
Miranda frowned, so I nodded at her. “You think like that and there’s no point you turning up.”
I glanced at Renee. Her eyes unreadable, a stranger.
“Focus on what you can control. If you play when you’re hand is so bad, you will narrow your chances of success. It don’t mean you won’t succeed but it’ll be harder.”
“Focus on what I can control,” she mumbled.
I smiled. “Combating scary stress one-oh-one.” I’d learned that from Renee. “Someone who I
care a lot about once told me to think baby steps. It helps.”
The bell rang.
Miranda jolted into life, gathered her things, and fled like I’d shot at her.
I sat, staring at a wobbling music stand and trying not to look at Renee who I swear was burning a hole in my cheek. Not at all awkward, nope.
“When did you get so wise?” There was the accent I knew, her tone. It hurt to hear it. It hurt and it helped. How did that work?
“Been through a couple of learning curves.” I didn’t dare look at her. “Don’t mean I know much, just means I get kids with issues.”
“You’re very good with them.”
Was I? Not really. I treated them like I’d treat anybody else. Kids were easier to reach sometimes. Adults seemed set on shielding themselves too much.
“You are always so good to be around.” I met her eyes, shocked at her words. Gray, open, warm, like she cared. “I—”
“Roberta, there you are.” Wonderful. If Renee had a tracker on me, sure-as-shoots, Owens had one on Renee. I fought not to roll my eyes.
“Do you have a bell on her?” I muttered through gritted teeth.
Renee’s eyes veiled then hardened and I didn’t bother to wait for an answer. It wouldn’t be nothing I wanted to hear anyway. I stomped out and headed down the corridor filled with a silent stream of much younger students. I didn’t want to think why there had been only thirty in my age group to start the year. Where had the others gone?
I paused at the top of the stairs and turned back to see Renee in conversation with Owens. It wasn’t my place to help her no more, that much was clear. I was only good to talk to when nobody else was around. I was worth her time when she wanted something.
That sounded a lot like my mother. At least Sam hadn’t cared who saw us talking.
Wasn’t that just great? I’d had a father who’d been too embarrassed by me, too hung up on the woman I resembled to tell me anything. I had a mother who hadn’t bothered to stick around long enough to see me walk. Sam, my so called best friend, was a homicidal maniac who had tried to kill me. Then there was Renee, who’d been a friend, she’d pretended like she cared. I’d had to fight for every bit of her she’d shared. I didn’t count enough for her to think I deserved an explanation.
I wasn’t important enough to her for an apology. I’d felt that she knew she was wrong yet it still didn’t matter.
Why bother saying sorry to me? I was just somebody she worked with. What did it matter that she could see I was hurt? She had better things to do.
I sighed. So I’d found out someone else had been less than truthful. I didn’t mean a whole lot to her, at least not enough. I’d found out the same thing time and time again, so what made this any different?
I turned away when Renee looked in my direction and headed down the stairs. A friend who wasn’t quite the friend they’d made out to be . . . It was all too familiar.
Some things never changed.
Chapter 33
URSULA FREI LEANED against the smooth, hard wall of the tower and slid her aviators up her nose. Her phone tucked discreetly into her shorts, she clicked the Bluetooth button to answer the call. No one would hear her. She’d stuck a scrambler on the tower. She could speak freely. Not that speaking to Huber could ever fit into that category.
“Good afternoon, Locks.” His tone said business. Short and sweet. Better for her anyway.
“I’m listening.”
“The genius and the musician have just shot up in price. In fact they are now worth treble the original estimate.”
Ursula drew her breath in slowly, carefully. He didn’t need the pleasure of hearing the shock she felt racing through every muscle. That was a huge jump. More buyers would be sniffing around now. Elite buyers. The kind she didn’t want to tangle with. “Any ideas why?”
“My guess would be the promise made to a visiting buyer.” She heard the click of his solid gold pen as he tapped it on and off. She could see him in his office with it. It was etched with his family’s heraldry. His office bigger than most people’s houses. How small she’d felt as a child sitting in front of his desk. The relief she’d felt as a teenager when he’d still wanted to keep her. The pride in his eyes as an adult when she’d bought her freedom from him.
“Promise?” Her voice betrayed her interest and Huber laughed.
“It’s not every day a child can hack into our database.” Even Huber would pay for someone with that kind of “genius.”
“The kid is in observation after trying to throw himself off a roof.” There was no way that she’d tell him who the real geniuses were. She had the notebook now and if Miroslav and Jessie stayed quiet, maybe she might be able to get them out. “The kid isn’t worth a cent.”
“He said he had notes on how it could be done, Locks.”
Ursula again steadied her breathing. She had the notes and Huber wasn’t the one she’d give them to. “I’ll check out his room but the kid is unhinged.”
“Not what Jäger thinks.” Huber was blunt. He knew her ability to embellish or cover what the truth was. His tone used to terrify her into telling him anything he wanted. It still made her heart pound and sweat pour out of her. She hadn’t forgotten any of it. No matter how hard she tried. Closing her eyes, she tried to unhitch her shoulders, to breathe.
“He is no genius himself.”
Huber laughed with genuine shock pulsing through it. “Haven’t you grown a backbone.”
She hated it when he laughed at her. It shook her until she felt like that scared kid all over again.
“It’s a fact. Kid is a dud.”
“Make sure of it before you write him off. He’s not worth your kind of money but think of the look on Jäger’s face when I have him.”
It was all a game. It always had been. Huber didn’t care if Kevin could hack a system or possessed the mind of a genius. He cared about getting one over on Jäger.
Her jaw clenched at the thought. Kevin, like all the others, just like her, they were all property. It was too familiar. Huber had always used the fact she was worth so much to ignite her competitive nature. It was how they worked. It was how the system worked. Isolate one slave from the next, stop any kind of unity. Slaves couldn’t rebel if they never talked, never bonded, never saw each other as equals.
“Worth the dagger flying your way?” she asked. Huber wasn’t stupid and Jäger would only react in one way to someone stealing something from under his nose.
“Hah,” Huber fired back. “He’ll have to catch me first.”
She fought the urge to roll her eyes. “So anything else you called for?”
Huber laughed at her again. She ground her teeth. “You’ve always been impatient. No, that is all. Find out if the boy is bluffing. If he is, it will make it all the more amusing.”
Huber cut the line.
Ursula leaned her head back against the wall. She had no idea what Huber’s plans were for a messed up kid but she doubted she’d want to know.
The memory of Catalina smashing to the floor, of Aeron trying to help her, flashed through Ursula’s mind.
She sighed.
There went her conscience again.
It was ridiculous how it had never existed before she met Renee but now, she couldn’t shut it up.
She pulled out the sim card from her phone and replaced it with the CIG one.
“And how are my girls?” Lilia sounded happy. Children giggled in the background and Ursula could hear Eli’s calls.
“Working well together.”
Lilia sighed. “Which means they aren’t.” She heard a door creak and shut. “What’s happened?”
“Nothing, Aeron is doing great. In fact the kids love her . . . Renee . . .” She stared at the buildings, the bright blue sky. “You could be right. She could be exhibiting side effects.”
“So Nan was right,” Lilia muttered. “You can’t get involved, you know how important it is that they work this out together.”
Ursula w
atched a bird high above her in the sky. It swooped and then held still as if frozen. “I’ll only get involved if it goes too far.”
“And the POIs?”
Ursula stared down at her sneakers. “Renee doesn’t know the full story. Aeron is on board. She’s keeping confidence about it.”
“Good. It’s better we keep it that way for now.”
She clenched her jaw. More games, or at least that’s how it felt. She understood the need to keep the little information they had to themselves. The differing part of the vision Lilia had seen. She knew why Lilia was cautious. She just didn’t like lying to Aeron. Frei wanted to prove Lilia wrong, prove that they wouldn’t implode.
“They’ll need to know eventually,” she said.
Lilia sighed.
“If you talked to her, she’d understand why. She’d understand your reasons.”
“I’ll take her distance, her dislike over anything happening to her.” Lilia’s voice was strong, decisive. It was her call to make. “We have the chance to bring down a small part of a trafficking ring but we have to strike at the right moment.”
“Your vision show a Rolex?” Aeron had mentioned a watch.
“Yes.”
It was good enough for her. “She saw it without the gifts.”
Lilia laughed. “Nan said they would be postponed but they will never be completely removed. In emergencies it’s called off altogether.”
It explained a few things. The class bell sounded in the distance.
“I have to go. I’ll expect a call when you have things ready your side.”
Lilia creaked a door again. Aeron’s half-sister’s laughter sounded. “Take care of them both. You know what the vision said. And now these three remain faith, hope . . . one is left behind to face her fear.”
Ursula cut the call. She didn’t need to answer. They both knew she’d do anything to keep them safe, even stay behind.
Chapter 34
THE TOUR WAS another gauntlet for the students. Frei had warned me that this portion could well see single figures remaining. Not many of them passed.