by K W Quinn
“I keep company with people who bring excitement to my life,” Marv deflected. His status as the family scapegoat and screwup was well cemented. Most of the time, he managed to skate around the edges of notice, keeping his useless playboy reputation as a shield to do whatever he wanted.
“I should have long ago given up hope that your excitement wouldn’t come at the detriment to the Conglomerate, and yet you manage to surprise me still.”
Marv smiled. “I assume you didn’t summon me to express surprise.” He’d spent hours trying to understand why he was being summoned now but better to hear it from the source.
Jedrek swiveled in his chair and stood. He took a few steps forward before gesturing to the table and plush chairs in the office.
“I didn’t.” He reclined in his chair. “I need you to be more forthcoming about your friend who robbed you.”
Marv didn’t miss the stress and skepticism in his father’s voice.
“I don’t know how much more there is to tell, but I’m happy to comply,” Marv replied smoothly. He was proud of himself for managing to keep his calm. It had taken years to be able to face his father without shaking.
“If you weren’t my own son, I’d question your ancestry. Must be a Water back in your mother’s line somewhere with the way you always go with the flow.” Marv didn’t flinch at the familiar slur. “Nonetheless, I find myself in the unenviable position of seeking your help.”
Marv kept his face calm and waited. He wouldn’t give away more than he had to. He’d only kept his position in the Conglomerate to keep tabs on the corruption. An empire built on slavery and Elemental superiority had plenty of corruption to watch.
Keeping friends close and enemies closer wasn’t just a trite saying. It was sound business wisdom. The first rule of negotiations was to never be the first to ask for a favor.
“Your car was on the coast, under a glamour?” Jedrek asked. The leading question was clumsy, not very like his father at all.
Marv nodded. “Good thing too. With the kind of cars it was surrounded by, if it weren’t for the glamour, it might have been vandalized or stolen all over again.”
“Why go to the trouble of protecting your property and returning it after stealing it?”
“Despite what you’ve heard, sir, there are decent people outside the Conglomerate. I’m sure Cass didn’t intend to do me any harm. He was looking for a way out of trouble and knew that I had the resources to spare.”
“Don’t start on your Morality of the Lesser Elements lecture, Mardav. I’ve heard it too many times.”
Not enough for you to understand the truth, Marv thought bitterly. “Yes, sir.”
“He stole a Bonded and then killed him while trying to un-collar him. Those are serious crimes that cannot go unpunished. Without justice, we have nothing.” Jedrek crossed his legs and tapped his fingers gently on the arm of his chair.
He was trying to seem relaxed, but Marv could read the tension in his shoulders. There was a hint of sulfur in the air. His father had let Volcanics in this office, and that was never a good sign. How deeply shaken was he? Did he know about the Ravi collection? Had word of that storm made it up here?
“Please help me keep things in order for once.” It wasn’t a request, no matter how politely worded it was. His father wasn’t the type of man to ask for what he could just as easily take. “It’s long past time for you to have outgrown this messy phase of yours. I looked the other way when you brought that flighty Water girl into your home, but this is too much.”
Marv swallowed the sigh that was his natural response. “I’m not sure what more I can tell you, sir. Cass took the keys to my car, clothes from my closet, and cash from my wallet. He returned the car to me safe and sound, if a little dusty. The rest of the things are gone for good, but it’s all replaceable anyway,” Marv said with a shrug.
“No respect for property.”
“Airs are nomadic anyway, so it’s to be expected. They don’t make lasting attachments.”
“I was talking about you,” his father continued. “You’re so flippant and flamboyant with the privilege and gifts you’ve been given. You hardly do a day’s work to earn the salary you squander on fashion and food.”
Marv smiled. They were back to this worn-out argument. It was barely worth the effort to come all the way up here for such cursory questioning. His father could have gotten the same information from sending any number of lackeys.
What Marv knew couldn’t be exposed here. He wouldn’t let his father rattle him, so he dug deeper into his practiced insolence.
He shrugged and glanced at his father’s broad desk. “I intend to enjoy this life I’ve been given. What’s the point in hoarding all this money instead of spending it?”
“What you’ve spent is the reputation and the power of the Conglomerate to manipulate your way around any real responsibility and play like a child, but these toys are more dangerous.”
“I haven’t been given any responsibility. A useless desk job to keep me out of the way? Fine, I’m staying out of the way, but you can’t blame me for making the best of being pushed out to the fringes.” Marv let himself scoff openly.
“When given a little, you create such a mess. Why would I trust you with more? Your sisters—”
“Are the perfect children and perfectly capable of keeping everything running the way you like it when you eventually die. So why do you need me? Just let me live my life and let them live yours.”
“Mardav, you have no idea what your sisters go through to make up for your incompetence. What I go through. The time I’ve wasted defending your little habits and excursions as harmless playtime. But this is bigger than a crashed car or broken toy.”
“This isn’t the first time a Bonded has died trying to escape. What’s the big deal? Go find another debtor or traitor or something. Plenty of people waiting to be Bonded.”
“If I wanted more Bonded, I could scoop anyone I wanted off of the streets. Who would stop me? But this isn’t about that.”
“Plenty of backs breaking to keep your Conglomerate running.” Marv wanted a drink. This wasn’t a fight he wanted to have sober.
“This is more than loss of property.”
“They’re people, not property,” Marv said sharply. It wasn’t the right thing to say in this office, but his friend was dead, and he was done being nice about it. If he could get his father angry about this, maybe Marv could keep his secrets.
“Bonded are just that. Bonded. They are property to be used as the owner sees fit. It’s the only value they have. If you had half a brain, you would know that. If you paid any attention to what we do here, you would know that.”
“I’m aware. I just don’t agree.”
His father leaned forward, pointing his finger in Marv’s face. “This is a breach of the Dome. Your friends did the impossible, and I have the entire Conglomerate breathing down my neck, demanding to know why.”
Jedrek stood and peered down at him. The Mountain wasn’t a big man. Tall and lean, with a square jaw and sharp nose, but not broad and thick like the title implied. He was, however, an expert at looming in a very intimidating way.
Jedrek cracked his knuckles and walked to the window. “If I didn’t have a string of witnesses watching you take your little plaything home before the fights even started, I’d suspect you smuggled the Bonded out.”
“Juji is—”
“Save it. You’re now connected with the biggest security breach we’ve had in decades, and I can’t save you from the consequences of that. I won’t. Your choice in friends has cost us too much. Turn in your badge, and you’ll be escorted out of the building.”
“Aren’t you taking this a bit too far? I know I’m your favorite scapegoat, but I’m not the one who committed a crime,” Marv protested. This was the outcome he’d feared for years, but now that it was here, it held less sting than he’d imagined. He would put up his token resistance and make his escape too. He’d been as trapped as any B
onded.
“You’re the one who has gone too far. The Dome, Mardav. It’s not just a building. It’s a symbol of everything we’ve worked so long for.” His father sighed. “Your badge.”
“As you wish.” Marv pulled his security clearance from his pocket and handed it to his father with a small bow. He turned on his heel to leave.
“Spend some time thinking about what you’ve done. Perhaps with an appropriate show of repentance, the board of directors might—”
“No need, sir. Thank you.” And with that, Marv walked out of his father’s office for what he hoped was the last time. They could continue to rehash their favorite arguments at holidays and family gatherings, but his father wasn’t his boss anymore. Now to put this new freedom to maximum efficiency.
Street
After a nap, a workout, and some meditation, Reyah headed back to the corner where she’d seen the target, dancer, and Bonded performing before. From the cover of the crowd, she moved closer.
Dez, with her ribbons and bells, was lean and lithe, like water poured from a cup. When she stopped and spoke, her softness and curves became apparent. Reyah had always envied the soft, approachable kind of femininity. Maternal, comforting women who were ready to hug you at a moment’s notice and the round, sensual women who breathed vitality.
The target glowed like always. Softer now than before but still distractingly bright. The halo of golden light seemed to shimmer around him, accompanied by the bells on his wrists. He spoke in his dramatically deepened voice, calling for tips. Two steps and Reyah could be at his side, pressing her blade to his spine. It would make a scene. It would make a mess. It would ruin Dez’s show.
Reyah couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do it. She was contractually obligated to take the target, and she would fulfill her part of the job, but these people weren’t collateral damage.
Reyah watched the strength and precision of the dance, the focus and power in Dez’s movements. What she wasn’t watching was the target, which is how she found herself face-to-face with him. He peeked between the couple in front of her. He lifted the basket with a little wiggle.
Reyah froze. Years of training trickled out of her brain. Face-to-face with that glowing smile, her muscles locked up, and her mind screeched to a halt. Her expression must have been enough to rebuff him, because he tipped his head down and moved along, shaking the basket at others.
Reyah let out the breath that had stuck in her throat. What an awful rookie mistake. She hadn’t messed up that badly in years. Or since the beach the other night. Not since her first few jobs had she been so scared. Back then, she’d been looking into the pain of souls so shredded that she’d wanted to vomit. That was at least a reasonable fear. What about his ethereal face was worth being scared of?
“Find what you were looking for?” The dancer’s voice pulled Reyah out of her mental self-flagellation. Staring at the dancer’s face, the words sank in. She felt exposed. How had the dancer figured it out? “On your road trip to self-realization or whatever?”
Reyah blinked and was grateful that her blue skin didn’t blush easily.
“Oh. Well, I was,” she fumbled. She needed to use this to keep the ruse going. Aimless, wandering dragonkin on a journey of introspection was the story, and she was sticking to it. “So far, the only thing I’ve found is you. Twice now. I was surprised to see you here. I didn’t know you did this.”
The dancer smiled, and Reyah could see the sheen of sweat on her face, hear the deep, heavy breaths of her exertion. “Well, I do a lot of things, little dragon.”
Reyah raised her eyebrows. Did this woman know the meaning of her alias? Who was this dancer, anyway? “I’ve never danced, but I’ve studied some martial arts, and I think some of what you do looks similar.”
The dancer nodded. “There is definitely an intersection between fighting and dancing. Why don’t you join us for dinner? I’ve got some explaining to do to my new assistants, and I don’t like to repeat myself. You can listen in and learn a little something new. Isn’t that the point of this trip?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose,” Reyah deflected. She wasn’t sure she could handle the glow up close for that long.
“It’s no imposition. You’re buying.” The dancer’s smile was wide, and her eyes were unwavering in their sincerity.
Reyah nodded along. She had funds to spare. Maybe a short exposure would help her acclimate, and she could build up a tolerance for the enticing pull of the soul she was trying to capture.
“We’re gonna slip into something more reasonable. Meet back here in half an hour. You choose a restaurant. We'll follow your lead when we get back.” The dancer turned and gathered her assistants.
Reyah smiled as they turned to look at her. The Bonded and target looked right at her. She smiled her best nervous smile. She was a nervous dragonkin, taking a road trip with money to burn, looking for answers and family and fulfillment. It was a decent cover story. It was so close to the truth, it made Reyah’s jaw ache.
She wandered the town square slowly, looking for a place to eat and letting her thoughts tumble around. She hadn’t planned on needing a cover at this point in the game. She didn’t enjoy the deception part of her job as much as some of the other Dragons.
They all got the same training, the same preparation, but individuals used it in their own style. Reyah was an ace at the physical parts and not just because of her dragonkin strength and stamina. She was naturally gifted at kinetic learning.
Top of her class in combat, she’d struggled with the practical magic that came so easily to the other trainees. Tarone said it was an incompatibility with her dragon blood. He believed all the old legends about real dragons working magic outside the laws of the Elements.
Reyah had never found anything otherworldly about her difficulty in casting Spells, though. She resented not being the best at things, but persistence had gotten her to a level of functionality with the basics of magic. Enough to graduate to full Dragon, at least.
She glanced in shop windows, remembering other missions. She had a flawless record despite some tight corners she’d had to fight her way out of. Fighting was second nature, and she thrived on active conflict. Her temper was a furnace, and though she couldn’t actually breathe fire, she could focus her rage into lethal force with ease. It scared some of the other trainees, but Tarone had spent years conditioning her to control it.
She tried to recall that training now. Controlling her rage was so much easier than controlling her curiosity. Her brain writhed with questions about this target. She wanted to interrogate him and Tarone until she understood all the strange aspects of this job.
The dancer was approaching. Even without her costume, she was dramatic and appealing. Less like a mythical creature made of music, though. Now she was just a woman that men would cross the street to talk to.
Reyah straightened her spine. Meeting new people was often awkward, but Reyah had done it enough to have fixed answers for the most common questions now.
“So, what’s for dinner?” the dancer asked and crossed to where Reyah was waiting.
No introductions, no small talk. Reyah liked that.
“Well, I didn’t know what you would like, but I thought a place with vegetarian options would be best. In case you were, you know, traditional.”
“How thoughtful. Lead the way, Kaida.”
“I’m Cass, by the way,” the target said, leaning forward with his hand out. Reyah braced herself. She reached to shake his hand. What if the glow burned her? What if she was overcome with that weird soulprint emotion? What if her hands were clammy or she said something stupid?
His hand was warm, but only in the normal, human way. The Bonded was smiling at her.
“Andy,” he said, extending his hand too.
“Kaida, obviously.” She shook his hand and stepped aside to lead them to the restaurant.
“Dez told us she met you on the beach? We’re kind of on a road trip too,” the target said, falling into
step next to her. She nodded and kept her head down. A heartbeat ago, she’d wanted to force the target to answer all of her questions. Now she didn’t want to know anything more than she already did. She couldn’t get to know this soul if she was going to destroy it.
“So, where are you on your way from?” the target continued.
“Leave her alone, Cass. Not everyone likes to spill their deepest secrets to people they just met,” the Bonded chimed in.
“Can’t be her deepest secret. It’s polite small talk,” the target protested.
“It’s nosy.”
“Dez, am I nosy?” the target asked.
“Love, if your curiosity showed on your face, your nose would be bigger than mine,” the dancer replied, gesturing to her face.
“But what a lovely nose it is,” the target cooed. The three laughed together, and Reyah felt warmed by their ribbing even as she felt excluded by it.
“The other side of the mountains,” she said. The three fell silent and looked at her with tilted heads and wrinkled eyebrows. “Where I came from before this. The hills beyond the mountains. Eastern side. Little town near a river with some cool, old caves that are mostly hidden, but there are thousands of them in there, and most aren’t big enough to crawl into unless you’re a squirrel or something. Some, though, you can get a long way into if you’ve got the right kind of light.” Reyah trailed off, looking at three blank faces. The awkward rambling wasn’t part of the persona she’d planned, but it was in character.
The target smiled, and then it spread to the other two. “See? Polite small talk, like I said.”
Stepping closer, the target chatted amicably about all the things he loved about his little town outside of the big city, all forgotten and nestled in the valley between mountains. It was a deluge of unasked-for information. They were all swept along by the force of his personality, and the conversation ebbed and flowed at his direction throughout dinner.