by Sarah Noffke
“Oh, so that’s why you employed Antonio and started Group X, so you could save me?” I say.
Her face shows acutely her newest stress. Never did she expect that I’d figure this out.
“Oh yes, Vivian, I saw the fund transfers in Smart Solutions’ records. I know you’re the one who backed Group X and paid Antonio to create anarchy.”
“I had to. And you weren’t working for the Institute when I started Group X. I knew that their activity would be a burden on you,” she says.
“And you knew that by filling up the news reports with events related to terrorist reports that you’d be able to put your Smart Pod plan into place without the Lucidites getting wind of it. But then I took out Antonio. So then you had to reflect Roya and then drug her so we didn’t see what you were doing,” I say.
And the smile that laces around her mouth is cruel and still stunning. “See, you and I belong together. Only a mind as brilliant as yours could be the companion to mine.”
“You are fucking out of touch,” I say.
“Don’t you see how incredibly strategic I’ve been? Doesn’t that impress you?”
And she’s right. Vivian must have read it on me when I recited her plan. It was a bloody brilliant plan. And the way she adapted the strategy when things all changed was creative. And it was all done to move everything into place and dupe the Institute, which has never been blindfolded in that capacity.
“You fucking blew up schools and hospitals. You’re responsible for the bomb that went off in the Underground and almost killed me,” I say.
She sucks in a cry, her hand flying to her mouth. “I didn’t know about that incident. Antonio started to work on his own at that point. I only funded him and didn’t know he had that target planned. You have no idea how angry I was when I found out, but then you survived and I knew God was plotting our union. He saved my man, ensuring you would be with me until the end, walk with me into the valley of heaven one day,” Vivian says.
“That bomb killed my friend,” I say, my words hot as I think of Jane.
“I’m truly sorry for that. I’m sorry people had to die, but you know better than anyone that humans have to die sometimes. I had people murdered, but only so I could create a better future,” she says.
I shake my head. I’ve encountered people all my life who are out of touch. Read the thoughts of psychopaths, but I have rarely met a person as seriously deranged as the person in front of me. “You aren’t just pathetically misguided, you are fucking insane. It’s sad really because you believe you’ve done the right thing. You killed children. Separated families. Destroyed lives. And for what? So you could make a better future. The end doesn’t justify the means,” I say.
“I’m creating lasting change. Even Trey found no fault in my plan,” she says.
This must be another leak from Mae.
“He didn’t know you were behind Group X,” I say.
A sly smile slides on her red lips. “And you would have found that out if you didn’t have Antonio killed. If you’d brought him into the Institute for interrogation,” she says. And Vivian must know that Trey ordered me to do that, but I refused. Killed the terrorist instead.
“Well, no point in regrets. I’m on to your plan now and it’s officially over,” I say, realizing that if I had done as Trey requested then Vivian’s cover would have been blown. However, she’s crafty enough she would have found another way.
“Oh, no it’s not. It’s slightly derailed but nothing that my technicians can’t reprogram,” Vivian says. She’s confident. Not flustered now. She’s regained her composure and looks ready to tear me in half and still make me rule by her side.
“The problem there, darling, is they don’t take orders from you anymore,” I say.
“What are you talking about? Of course they do. This is my company,” she says, sounding irritated.
“No, not anymore.” And now I smile, although only a little. “For as strategic as you are you’re also distracted easily by emotions. Everyone has a shortcoming. Well, not me. But I found yours and it was me. I’m your downfall. You were too excited to have succeeded in your plan to have me. Love really is the worst distraction and blinder. So you dashed off with me and eloped, never even thinking of your precious assets,” I say.
“I didn’t think I had to,” she says, tender pain registering in her words, making her eyes soften. “What we have is real. Even now I think you’re just confused. Whatever you’ve done can be undone, Ren. I will forgive you. What’s mine is yours and yours is mine. We are bonded in a way that this never has to be a concern.”
What’s sad is she believes this. Vivian still believes our relationship is as strong as an elemental force. She really never saw the game I played.
“What’s yours has just now become the property of the Lucidites,” I say, my voice rehearsed. “I sold Trey Underwood Smart Solutions this morning. It’s all final.”
“No!” she says, and if disbelief has a look, then it’s the throbbing gaze she’s giving me.
“Oh yes. And as your husband I had full rights to do this. The deal is done and he’s liquidated the company. It will be dissolved and all employees disbanded by the end of the week. They will all receive generous severance packages, of course, since they had no idea what they were doing. And the Smart Pods will soon be recalled due to a nasty wiring problem that could cause small explosions in homes. People will throw that bloody technology out so fast,” I say.
“Ren, you’ve betrayed me. And I never…” She drops her chin, her shoulders too. Vivian never saw this coming. This woman truly deluded herself into thinking I loved her. And people scorned by their own misrepresentation of love are the craziest. I know that and that’s why I keep my eyes firmly focused on her.
“There are agents outside this office that are going to take you to the Lucidite Institute where you will be tried for your crimes and sentenced,” I say.
“But Ren, they’ll keep me a prisoner, won’t they?” And I knew all too well that her spying would have given her information regarding how we treat our criminals.
“Yes, you’ll probably be sentenced to a lifetime with the dream blocker on. You will never dream or see the light of day again,” I say, my voice cold, but nearing to crack. Somehow I don’t want this fate for her. I don’t like the pain sketching itself over her eyes, as though the orphaned girl stands before me now. I see her on the day she was abandoned by her mother. Cast aside because of who she was going to become.
“I can’t…I can’t be imprisoned again,” the orphan says in the voice of a woman with too much power.
I spy the flex of her hand. The telegraph of her oncoming move from her shoulder. But it’s the wicked smile that actually takes me by surprise. It’s like that of an evil clown just before they decide to abandon hope. “And the Lucidites can’t imprison me. Not if they never catch me.” And then she lunges at me at the same time she says this. Her claws out, her mouth open. And she’s fast, her reach seeking to pull the buds from my ears. And the old Ren would have fought her. Maybe lost, not reacting fast enough to her since she’s shot forward like a spring uncoiling. But my training is intact and I reach for her wrist and tie one behind her back and the other around her neck, where I have her in a lock. My body presses firmly to her backside. And then she struggles but it’s useless. And soon she realizes it. Realizes I’m too strong and have her pinned in a way she can’t fight.
A whimper as real as the sun and just as scorching to my insides trembles from her lips. “Please, Ren. Don’t let them take me. Show me mercy. I can’t rot away in a prison, like I did at that orphanage. You know I’ll go insane. If you’ve ever loved even a shred of me then make this stop. Put me out of my misery now. I’ll always be crazy. I’ll never change. I’ve tried,” she says and suddenly I have the real impression that she has the ability to use her voice to make me feel. It’s not a control, it’s a manipulation. But I feel it’s absolutely negotiating with my will.
I thin
k through her request, her desperate plea. My hands are strong, holding her in place easily. And I feel the truth in her words. She’s lost and lonely and has been this way her whole life, much like Adelaide. And it’s too late for her. Too late for her to change and atone for these sins. Vivian is evil and it’s wrong and also just the way of this world. And she’s also strong and brilliant and the only adversary I’ve ever respected.
“Maybe in the next life, Vivian, your parents will love you,” I say, my voice not sounding like mine. I’ve never heard this tone. This sympathy come out of me.
“Maybe in the next one you will love me,” she says. “My soul will never stop loving yours. Forever and ever, I’m yours, Ren.” And the words slips out of her beautiful mouth just before I jerk my hand up and press it to the place on her neck where Clint showed me. The movement is fast and hard, full of a special force.
There isn’t a struggle from Vivian. There’s only a brief moment where the pain makes her stiffen all over. And then she’s gone. Gone forever from this world. I lay her down as gently as I can manage on the ground. Touch her face once with my fingertips, not hearing a thought from her consciousness, which has passed into the next world.
“Goodbye, Vivian,” I say before teleporting away.
The agents outside her office will have a new job, one cleaning up my mess. And Trey will be livid but I don’t care. My adversary was shown something I’m learning comes natural for me. Mercy.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The sight before me when I enter the house takes a minute to register. Maybe it’s the strangeness of killing another human still creating a slow-moving fog in my brain. But still the image isn’t something I’ve ever seen and it takes me a minute to figure out what I’m seeing, like when Native Americans saw the pilgrim ships on the horizon for the first time. It is difficult for humans to assimilate brand new images, especially ones so outside the norm.
Dahlia flips her head up and lets out a huge sigh, which I almost don’t hear over the wailing of the thing in her arms.
“Oh thank god,” she says, rushing forward and holding Lucien in her arms like he’s a Grammy and not a baby. Her hand is on his bottom and the other one around the back of his neck propping him up and away from her. “Here,” she says, nearly running and shoving the thing into my arms. Once he’s in my grasp, his cries stop at once, turning into only a few soft noises.
“For the love of god, I’ve been taking care of him all afternoon and he hasn’t shut up in all that time,” Dahlia says.
“Why the fuck are you taking care of the little monster?” I say, kind of hesitating on the last word.
He lies unmoving in the crook of my right arm, his eyes seeming to search my face although I know newborns can’t see much detail.
Dahlia combs her hands through her hair, her fingers catching on several knots. Sweat beads on her forehead and for a rare occasion she looks absolutely flustered and untidy.
“Because there’s no one else here to do it,” she says, throwing her arm wide. “I don’t even have a kitchen staff member here I can rely on. You’ll remember I’ve only just returned and all my staff is still on unemployment.”
“Wait, where’s the nanny I hired?” I say.
She lowers her eyes at me like I should already know this answer. “She quit.”
“No fucking way,” I say. “Another one. Why this time?”
“She didn’t really elaborate when I got home. The woman just said the baby was never quiet and his mother had the decency of a crazed terrorist. Then the quitter handed me Lucien and left. And he hasn’t been quiet for hours, not until just now,” Dahlia says and now she smiles at me, looking amused.
“Get that bloody look off your face,” I say to her.
“He likes you, Ren, and he doesn’t appear to like anyone.”
“He’s a fucking baby who doesn’t know what he likes.”
“Uh-huh,” Dahlia says with a knowing tone.
“Where’s Adelaide?”
“That’s the thing,” Dahlia says, turning fully around and throwing her hand at the stairs. “I’ve had the guards search and no one’s seen her. She was gone when I got here.”
“She’s not here? Where would she go?”
“Probably to the bar,” Dahlia says with a laugh.
“Not funny,” I say. “No one saw her leave? Have you questioned the guards?”
“I’ve been busy caring for your grandson, who by the way would make Mother Teresa want to slit her throat. A person can only handle so much noise. I’m not sure I blame the nanny for quitting,” Dahlia says.
“But where is Adelaide?” I say, pacing to my study down the hallway where I can find a place to put the little monster down. He makes a noise of contention when I lay him down. Starts the telltale sounds that precede his cries. “No, you don’t,” I snap at him. “Stay quiet.” And at once his mouth pops closed. His eyes go wide as he flays his little fists in the air.
“Okay, that’s hilarious,” Dahlia says.
“Buy a dictionary, diva. You don’t know how to use that word,” I say.
“Just saying that you of all people seem to be a baby whisperer, which makes total ironic sense.”
I spin around and face Dahlia. “Your logic is about as soundproof as a shredded up cardboard box.”
“I missed you, Ren,” she says, walking forward and sliding her arms around my waist.
I grip her head in my hand and hold her against me. At once I press my nose into her hair. “I missed you,” I say for the very first time ever. I had called Dahlia as soon as I left Vivian’s quickly cold growing body. I told her in a few short clipped remarks what had happened. Told her to come home, that it was all over with now.
Dahlia steps back, her hands finding mine and holding them between us. “You did the right thing. In all areas.”
I hadn’t told her I’d been on the fence about the Smart Pods, but Dahlia sensed it as she’s prone to do. And I didn’t tell her I had a strange soft spot for Vivian. However, when I told Dahlia that I killed her she said that she realized I did that out of thoughtfulness. It’s impossible to keep anything from this woman and really, why would I? If anyone is going to be connected to me I’d prefer it to be the one person who my abilities don’t work on. The one who loves me for who I am and not the monster inside me. I’m just about to pull her back to me, sensing I could use more of her comfort, when I notice something sitting on my plaid armchair. A white folded piece of paper. I press away from Dahlia and at first she protests but then spying what caught my attention, she lets me go.
The note has a few doodles on one side. Adelaide’s hand. And when I open it I know immediately by the slant of the writing that she was upset when she wrote it. My eyes scan the note. The three sentences that are insufficient for explaining what she’s done. They lack reason and emotion. They are too plain. Just words that tell what she’s done and what I can expect.
The paper pinches my palm when I crumple it.
“What is it?” Dahlia says at my side.
“She’s abandoned Lucien,” I say as the lines in the note stream across my retinas.
I’ve left. I’m not coming back. Goodbye.
Adelaide
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Three times Trey drums the tips of his fingers on his desk. I’ve let this quiet game go on too long.
“Can we fucking get this over with?” I say, tired of looking at his quiet disapproval and growing internal conflict. “I’ve got something I need you to address for me.”
“Ren, why did you do it?” he says, laying his hand flat and still on the surface of the desk.
“It was my life or Vivian’s. A battle to the death. She just barely lost,” I lie.
He draws in a long “I’m trying not to explode” breath. “I told you to bring her in unharmed,” Trey says.
“And I rarely handle these situations the way you ask me to. Aren’t you figuring that out by now?” I say.
“But with
Antonio you had his guards shoot him. This time your hands killed Vivian,” Trey says.
My nostrils flare at the memory, which I know will forever live in my mind. A memory made of indestructible diamonds. The moment I stole Vivian’s life is a marble statue never to be changed, always the same three movements that preceded her death. The beautiful psychopath was in my arms. Trusting of me. I felt that in the way she breathed against me. And then I gave her what she wanted so she wouldn’t be tortured even though I knew that act would forever torture me. I, Ren Lewis, was unselfish, maybe for the first time. It’s hard to know since selfless acts are about as easy to qualify as cloud shapes.
“I want you to talk about this in therapy,” Trey says.
“With who? Your bloody therapist ran away with the fucking circus,” I say.
“I have other therapists on staff,” Trey says.
“That’s all right. I don’t want to talk to someone else.”
Trey begins drumming his fingers again because apparently he wants to see if I’ll kill him too. “I can cover this up but it won’t be easy,” he says.
“Then don’t. Let me learn my lesson. Let the authorities take me away for killing my wife after liquidating her company. It’s a bunch of easy dots for even a dumb detective to piece together,” I say.
“You know I’d never allow that,” Trey says. “They think she sold the company and ran away. Anyone who could be a potential threat has had their memory wiped, including your personal assistant.”
“You’re such a fucking god, aren’t you?” I say, a playful sneer in my voice.
“Ren, crime rates are already on the rise. Actually they’ve spiked heavily after this. Apparently people went to the other extreme.”
“Good,” I say firmly.
“Good? You think it’s good that families are fighting and abusing each other, and then acting out in society as a result? You can’t mean that,” Trey says.
“What I mean is that it’s good that people get to be human. They get to fuck up and hurt each other. And have broken hearts and then seek to find ways to mend things. People get to evolve. They get to figure out how to change so they don’t lose people in their life. Who are we, Trey, when we aren’t allowed to screw up? We are fucking lemurs who live no real lives.”