The Chaos of Luck

by Catherine Cerveny

  I needed my cards. I need them so badly, my fingers started tapping on my knee. Alexei caught my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. I shot him a look and he arched an eyebrow in return, privately calling me out. He really did know me too well.

  “I’m sure there will be time for that later,” he said, then smoothed back strands of wet hair clinging to my cheek.

  Naturally, this seemed to require mocking and catcalls from his friends, most of it in Russian, which I didn’t understand since I was still at the “I left my red sweater at the restaurant” portion of my language classes, not the crude sexual innuendo part. And since neither of the men seemed eager to translate and Alexei looked like he wanted to throttle both of them, I figured I was probably never going to find out.

  After getting everyone sorted and dropping them off at various locations around Elysium City—with far too many at Alexei’s house in my opinion—they wanted to be entertained. After being cooped up on The Martian Princess for a month and a half, our visitors wanted to enjoy what Mars had to offer. Well, most of them did. Some, like Belikov, disappeared into their rooms to rest. Either that, or to plot; I wasn’t sure which. I almost felt sorry for the unsuspecting citizens of Elysium City. A few of Alexei’s people looked wild and rough around the edges. I could only imagine what they might get up to during Witching Time.

  I was supposed to go to class tonight, but decided to skip it—my third in a row. I was never going to learn Russian at this rate. Yet instead of going out, I begged off, saying I was tired, that I didn’t feel well, that I was still in shock from the bombing incident. Maybe it was rude, but I wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything if I couldn’t figure out what I saw today. Alexei gave me a hard, inscrutable look, but eventually left without me, taking a horde of overexcited Russians with him.

  Grabbing an apple, a glass of water, and as many crackers as I could carry from a kitchen that looked looted by savages, I squirreled myself away in my new office. Alexei said he’d made this part of the house off-limits—no one would be allowed near any of the private rooms we used on a regular basis. I pulled several different Tarot decks out of my cupboard because I was going to need them, woke up Eleat, finally gave in to my gut feeling, and submerged myself in the cards.

  I wasn’t sure how much time had passed when I heard a scratch at the door. A quick time-check showed me it was nearly Witching Time. I’d been at it almost six hours. No wonder I felt like crap—bleary-eyed, headachy, and my wrists and fingers ached from all the shuffling I’d done. I’d run through every question, every scenario, laid spreads for everyone I’d met today, made notes, compared one deck’s reading against another, but I had an answer. Unfortunately, it was an answer that scared the shit out of me.

  I opened the door to find Alexei, looking rumpled. Only two buttons of his shirt were fastened but they were in the wrong holes, exposing most of his chest and part of his abs, his tattoos on full display. He reeked of smoke, alcohol, and a cloying perfume that made my eyes water. And was that lipstick on the side of his neck, near the spider tattoo? Definitely not mine.

  The way he walked unsteadily into the room, clutching the door frame as he passed it, left me gaping. Was he drunk? He’d claimed that was nearly impossible because he metabolized alcohol too quickly. Yet if he was drunk, what the hell had he been doing all night—which was basically what I blurted out as he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it.

  “This is what happens when a bunch of fucking Russians are trapped together for over a month.” His accent was so thick, I could have spread it on toast with a knife. The words were also slurred, taking me a moment to figure out what he’d said. “They wanted to see the Jewel Box, then they wouldn’t leave!”

  Prostitution was legal throughout the tri-system, but like anything else, no one was going to make any gold notes if they didn’t have the most beautiful girls, the best floor show, or whatever gimmick ensured success. The Jewel Box was rumored to have that and more—one square block devoted to all pleasures of the flesh. Most visitors to Mars, and particularly Elysium City, wanted to visit the Jewel Box at least once. Even I’d wanted to see it, though I’d yet to have the opportunity.

  “Is that why you smell like the inside of a whore’s closet? For the record, Coral Sunset isn’t your color,” I said, gesturing to the lipstick.

  He swiped at it with his hand, grimacing. Then he staggered from the door and fell on me. I ended up sprawled in my chair, his face in my lap. I heard him sigh, his breath gusting over my bare legs. “Hmmm…I could stay here all night. Fuck, I love how you smell.”

  “Get off me. You’re heavy and you stink to high heaven.” Instead, I felt a determined hand questing its way into my shorts and a mouth pressing hot, wet kisses into my thighs. I started to squirm, getting aroused despite myself. I needed to talk to him, damn it! Now wasn’t the time for this. “Quit it, Alexei. I mean it. I don’t want you groping me after you’ve been trolling brothels all night! Gods, how many women were hanging off you anyway?”

  “Doesn’t mean I wanted to be there,” he protested, raising his head enough to look at my breasts. “If I want to see great tits, I’ve got yours. They’re perfect and they’re mine. I love how they bounce in my hands and fill up my mouth.”

  I slapped his hands away when he moved to illustrate his point. “Ass. Why the hell are you so drunk?”

  “Because I was bored waiting for those duraki. After a while, I just left them. Only hope I don’t need to bribe any MPLE officials to get them out of jail.”

  I had no idea why, but this whole conversation struck me as hilarious. Maybe because it served as a giddy outlet after what I’d read in the cards. “So you didn’t have fun tonight with your friends?”

  “Nyet, but I am now. Only want you. Want you naked. Under me. Or riding me. Or…”

  He was off, describing all the things he planned to do to me in glorious, filthy detail. Unfortunately, I didn’t catch most of it because his accent got thicker as he spoke. Also, most of the words were punctuated with kisses and licks, followed by hands I couldn’t fend off. Soon he’d removed my shorts and panties while he held my legs up in the air and spread open wide. His tongue plunged into me and I was gasping for breath and clutching the arms of my chair to keep from tumbling out of it.

  Several orgasms later, he looked a lot more sober while I was a limp, oozing puddle, nearly dripping out of my chair. He sat back and regarded me, looking smug.

  “Looks like we both need cleaning up,” he drawled. Then he finally took his attention off me and looked at the cards I’d spread everywhere. “I thought your cards were lost in the explosion.”

  That had me scrambling to get dressed. “Brody gave them to me this morning. He said he found them at the site.”

  “Interesting how he’s making himself so indispensable.”

  I didn’t want to deal with the dark undercurrents in his tone, so I just kept looking for my panties. He sighed and produced them from somewhere. Then he had me stand while he slid them up my legs, his hands moving over me with appreciative slowness.

  “I’m usually tearing these off, not putting them on. I don’t like it,” he complained.

  When he’d finished, he rested his forehead against my stomach and his hands cupped my ass in a possessive grip. He sighed again and I got the feeling he was exhausted, that whatever he worked on for the Consortium was wearing him out. Tonight’s drunken episode was him finding his own outlet.

  Though he smelled awful, especially there in my small office with the door closed, I ran my fingers through his hair and let him hold me.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered.

  “That’s the second time you’ve asked me that today.” He lifted the cami I wore and pressed a kiss to my bare stomach. “Just tell me you love me.”

  “I love you. You already know that.”

  Another kiss before his tongue dipped into my belly button and became a lick that ended in another kiss. “Did you find the answer
s you wanted?”

  And that was it. Back to the scary stuff I had to face if we were going to make it through this in one piece. “A few things are still confusing, but yes, I did. It doesn’t mean it’s set in stone. Things can change. Variables can shift. There are some random factors I can’t quite figure out, but I will. Now that I know what’s coming, it’s possible to work around it. I’m concerned, but I’m not giving up. I’m never giving up.”

  A beat of silence, then, “Konstantin’s dying, isn’t he? He doesn’t have much time left and he wants me to restart the homunculus project. He wants a new body.”

  Of course he already knew. But did he know everything?

  “Yes,” I whispered, then tilted his head back so I could kiss him. I had to and couldn’t help myself. He was mine, even if he’d spent the night getting drunk in a brothel. I wasn’t letting him go.

  When his tongue dipped into my mouth and his hands threatened to stray back into my panties, I pulled away. I reached over to the table and grabbed a card, letting him see it.

  “Is this literal, or metaphorical?” he asked.

  “This time, it’s literal,” I said, then turned enough so he could see the other spreads on the table. All the results were the same. All ended in the Death card.

  He looked back up at me, his eyes meeting mine. “What does it mean?”

  I dropped the card and ran my fingers through his hair again, needing to reassure myself that he was there with me and, for the time being, he wasn’t going anywhere. His hands tightened on me as if needing the same reassurance.

  “What does it mean?” he repeated, whispering now.

  “It means, if you give him a new body, he’ll want it all back. The power. The wealth. Everything the Consortium represents. If that happens, you’ll be in his way. Even if you step down, it won’t be enough. Just the fact that you exist is a problem because he’ll always see you as a threat. The Death card isn’t predicting death for him. It’s for you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  I spent the morning after breakfast staying out of everyone’s way. I had no idea how long the house would be overrun by the Consortium, but ever since I’d made my announcement, Alexei seemed determined to keep everyone as close as possible. Something about keeping friends close, enemies closer—the usual clichés. I just hoped he cleaned up the enemy business as quickly as possible. There were too many people in my personal space, watching and judging my every move.

  Luckily, I had Celeste’s party to get ready for and a mess of potato salad to make. Normally I might not be so enthusiastic about the task, but hunting down the ingredients meant I could spend hours at the market instead of home, my chain-breakers chaperoning my every move, of course. While I was out, I also visited clients I considered friends who were concerned after what they’d witnessed on Mannette’s live-feed—Mrs. Larken and her dog Puddles among them. I assured everyone that closing my shop was only temporary and I’d be happy to make house calls.

  By the time I got home, it was late afternoon. I didn’t see Alexei though that didn’t surprise me. He also wasn’t at dinner, where I endured more Consortium scrutiny. I did get a shim saying not to expect him until sometime the next sol, but little else. So I went to bed alone, got up alone, lay low again, then took over the kitchen to make my potato salad.

  I ended up wasting most of the sol; I wasn’t familiar with the kitchen and it took forever to find what I needed. Everything was state-of-the-art with AI this and programmable that, beeping and chiming at me, questioning why I wanted to use the manual overrides and not the CN-net interface. I’d never used equipment this elaborate and found the experience so frustrating, I wanted to throw everything in the trash and tell Celeste she could make her own damn salad.

  I supposed I could have asked the house staff to take care of it for me, but that would mean admitting the machines had beaten me. Plus, you didn’t hand out secret family recipes to strangers. Absolutely not! So, I peeled mountains of potatoes by hand, chopped onions, ground mustard seeds, and set about making enough salad to feed an army. At one point, I shimmed Celeste demanding to know why she wasn’t having her party catered. Her answer? It wasn’t part of the deal. Trust my cousin to work out some kind of scam on the side to get her event done on the cheap.

  I’d been sweating in the kitchen for what seemed like years when I felt hands slide around my waist and a kiss pressed to my throat. I stiffened in surprise, not sure how to fight off an attacker with only a fork and a pot lid in my hands.

  “You could try for a fork in the eye, but I’m certain I could stop you,” Alexei said, pulling me back against him, going in for another kiss.

  I relaxed. “I was thinking of jabbing you in the hand and a knee to the groin,” I countered.

  “That might be just as effective if you could make contact.” His arms tightened almost uncomfortably around me, and he buried his face in the curve of my neck and shoulder. “You may want to try both after we talk.”

  I tried to pull away, nervous. I wanted to see his face, but he wouldn’t let me go. “What’s going on?”

  “You’re not wearing my ring,” he said instead.

  The way he said it sent guilt cascading over me, crushing me like a waterfall. It was like he’d implied I’d purposely decided not to wear it. Or was it me being hypersensitive because of this thing with Brody I didn’t know how, or even want, to stop?

  “I had it on earlier, but the potato skins kept getting stuck in it. Then I somehow caught one of the claws with the peeler and this happened.” I held up my left hand where I’d scraped my knuckles raw—a cheap shot from karma reminding me of my betrayal, in case I’d forgotten. The bleeding had stopped, but I hadn’t had time to slap any skin renewal patches on yet. “I’m not used to wearing something that big.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, lifting my hand and kissing it. “I didn’t consider practicality when I had it made.”

  Gods, he’d had it made? I felt even worse. “I’ll just be more careful in the future.” I tried turning again, and still he wouldn’t let me, almost as if he didn’t want to face me. “Alexei, you’re acting strange. There’s barely been a word from you in two sols. Now you won’t let me look at you and say we have to talk. Talk about what?”

  He sighed into my neck. “Because I don’t want to see your face when I tell you I can’t go tomorrow. I promised I would and I know it means a great deal to you, but I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  I felt a horrible, awful dread slash through me, so sharp I dropped what I was holding. The fork and the lid clattered on the countertop. Along with the fear came something I hadn’t expected—relief. It was almost like I was…glad he couldn’t go. What the hell? How could I feel both at once? Or was I afraid because I was relieved?

  “Why not?” I asked, my voice a whisper.

  “The readings you did—I need to stay on top of this situation with Konstantin. I don’t think it’s wise to be away even for a few hours. Not until I have the full measure of the situation.”

  “Has something happened?”

  “Not yet, but Konstantin is making noises and some in the Consortium support him. Others have taken my side because they’re tired of his influence and like the new direction we’re exploring but I need to solidify my position.”

  “I get that. I understand how important this is. Whatever Konstantin’s doing, you need to figure it out so what I saw in the cards doesn’t happen. But can I just say I really need you with me tomorrow? I feel panicky and scared, and I’m worried I might do something I’ll regret. Please, Alexei. I need you.”

  He made a noise like a wounded animal. “I know you do. I know, but I can’t. Konstantin’s being here has fucked with everything. I wasn’t even aware he was en route to Mars until a few sols ago, and that’s not acceptable. He can’t continue to hide things from me, not if I truly lead the Consortium. And now that I’m investigating for myself, I see discrepancies in all the records. He’s funneling the Consortium’s assets elsew
here. I should have known he would attempt something, but I missed it. Probably because I never believed he would risk fracturing the Consortium like this, so I overlooked what should have been obvious. Now I see he’s locked away the details in his memory blocks, in places I’m unable to access.”

  “Like the homunculus project?”

  “That and I’ve no idea what else. I should be able to access anything from anyone in the Consortium at any time, but I can’t. And the fact that he’s locked me out and taken pains to hide from me is all the proof I need.”

  “Can you snipe his memory blocks?”

  “With time, yes. It may take up to a week at most, but I fully intend to find everything he’s hidden. He’s carried the homunculus program on in secret. I’ve seen his latest model and Karol thinks it can do what the last one couldn’t: host a human mind without the need to return to a physical body. I’m not even certain Konstantin needs me to pilot it, but I don’t think he realizes that. Regardless, it won’t be long before even I become irrelevant to his plan.”

  “How? I thought you were the only one who could merge with the homunculus.”

  He sighed. “In the beginning, yes. However, the intent was for everyone to have that ability. In the code I wrote for the Consortium’s neural interface, I created a subroutine to launch a direct link between the human mind and AI mind in the homunculus. It copied the human brainwave data into a series of codes the AI could integrate into its own programming. After Brazil, I deleted the subroutine, or so I thought. Konstantin apparently kept a copy. Once it’s tested, anyone could pilot a homunculus. In theory, the human body would become disposable.”

  The idea of people—of everyone—downloading themselves into machines and abandoning everything that made them human so repulsed me that for a moment, I couldn’t speak. It wasn’t that I was against the idea of living longer, or even of living indefinitely. What gave me nightmares was thinking about what we had to give up to achieve that dream. What would we lose in our quest to be immortal? “Can you stop him?”