Two Can Play (Entangled Ignite)

by Atkins, Dawn

  Now Maya gave her a quick hug, the obsidian earrings Rena had given her tickling Rena’s neck, then smiled. “Good luck, Rena. Trust Nigel.” Maya passed her key card over the elevator security sensor, which flashed a green that matched the swirling shade of her mood ring. Green for go, go, go.

  The door closed and Rena soared upward, her heart rising, too, as if it wanted to fly from her chest. At the top, the elevator opened onto a hall leading to a door painted red with a black border of carved dragons.

  Before she could knock, her cell phone beeped, signaling a low battery. Cassie had dropped it a few times, cracking the screen, and dunked it once, weakening the battery. When Rena had the spare points, she’d replace it. The beep reminded her to silence the phone. It wouldn’t do to have a call interrupt her precious moments with the Blackstones.

  A tiny Asian woman opened to Rena’s knock and bowed. Naomi? No. Naomi’s hair was red, not black. She motioned for Rena to enter. The museum-like space was open and bright with light from overhead skylights. Wind chimes tinkled and she smelled sandalwood. She liked the smell, but it sometimes made her dizzy. Plasma TVs ringed the room, silently flashing the colors and lights of EverLife.

  She turned to ask where to go, but the woman had disappeared. Rena moved slowly past a giant red-and-gold Buddha, water bubbling from its base into a box of fist-sized black stones, on her way to a seating area at the far end of the room. She realized her mouth hung open in awe.

  “It is an honor to have you in our home.”

  Rena spun to see Nigel bowing before her. Where had he come from?

  “It is an honor to be here,” she blurted. At the last second, she jerked into a bow.

  When she righted herself, Nigel’s eyes bore into her, the shiny black of the Buddha stones.

  “And you are enjoying your work for us, yes?” His long white hair hung loose over his jade tunic and his razor-edged beard and soul patch made him look like an EverLife magician, which delighted her.

  “Very much… Very much.”

  “And your living circumstances please you?”

  “Oh, yes…yes.” Stop repeating yourself.

  “We have followed your progress closely.”

  “You have?” There were hundreds of Lifers across America. How could Nigel and Naomi possibly track each one? Maya must keep them informed since Rena was her Recruit. Or maybe the Blackstones’ love was so large it blanketed them all. They’re not gods, Rena reminded herself, though deep inside she wanted to believe love could be that big.

  “I am grateful to be here.” Her throat tightened and her nose stung. Where was her control? She called up Astra’s hot, white light to calm herself.

  “As we hoped. Always we aim to create enriched lives for our Family. As the American Indians believe that every stone has a spirit, we believe the same of man-made objects. Each results from an act of creation, the application of human brainpower and energy and love. We celebrate that spirit by acknowledging the life force in all material goods.”

  She nodded.

  “Ah, but I am not your sensei, as Naomi points out whenever I start my little talks.” He chuckled. “You are here to learn about your future. You are anxious to achieve?”

  “I strive to be better each day.”

  “You have blessed our Family with exceptional members.”

  “My Recruits? Yes.” Cassie, of course, and eleven others, eight of them girls. “And I became a Mentor today, too, which is a great honor.”

  “As Naomi says, everything is unfolding as it should.” He smiled, then motioned toward the low table surrounded by jewel-colored cushions. A tray with fragile-looking white teacups and a matching teapot easing steam had appeared, as if by magic. “Naomi sends her best to you on all you have achieved.”

  “Thank her for me.” Naomi wasn’t coming. Rena felt a throb of disappointment. She’d only seen Naomi once—at the launch party for the EverLife Expansion Pak—and that was from the mezzanine where she stood with Nigel to wave. Rena adored Naomi.

  Half Japanese, her features were a pretty culture mash-up—slanted eyes with thin black brows, high cheekbones in a square face with long auburn hair. In the photo of her and Nigel that Rena kept near her computer, Naomi wore a silver medallion that said tranquillity in Japanese. It was the perfect word for her. Rena fought to replace her own restless turmoil with Naomi’s easy calm.

  Choosing the jade cushion, Rena folded her legs under her, while Nigel poured tea, then nodded for her to drink. He left his own cup empty. The lip of the teacup was thin as paper and the tea tasted of peach and tingled on her tongue. She felt Nigel’s eyes follow her every move, though he held his silence.

  She sipped again.

  More silence. Was he waiting for her to speak or was this a moment of Zen awareness?

  Rena didn’t do Zen. She jumped in, moved, took action. Should she ask about Girl Power? She fingered the brochure she’d slid into her pocket to show him when the time was right.

  Everything is unfolding as it should.

  Patience was a Life lesson Rena needed, so she kept still while the tea warmed her insides. A wave of dizziness washed through her. Sandalwood again.

  “Ah,” Nigel said, as if prompted to speak. “To reach the point. Naomi and I invite you to accept a Quest.”

  “A Quest? Oh. Wow. Thank you.” So the meeting wasn’t about Girl Power. She felt a jolt of warmth and her head seemed to float above her neck like a balloon.

  “You are aware, I assume, of that despicable reporter and the hostile stir his story has created against us?”

  She nodded. “Yes. It was terrible. Will we be taking action? Filing a lawsuit?” Serenity was useless when an injustice had been committed.

  Nigel smiled faintly. “We are strong and we will sobreviver, as the Spanish say—over live…survive. The many loyal, loving members of the NiGo Interactive Family cannot be harmed by lies.”

  “But a lawsuit would tell the world that they can’t mess with—”

  Nigel stopped her with a raised hand. “Your eagerness is admirable, but our task is to address this ‘Angel,’ this Lifer who has stepped outside our loving arms. Karma has a Gantt chart of its own, but we must act for the good of all.”

  Oh, no. Angel was real. Not made up. Rena felt sick and even more dizzy. “A Gantt chart?” she asked to cover her distress.

  Nigel smiled. “A business reference. Naomi reminds me to consider my audience. My most prostrate apologies.” She loved how humble Nigel was—gentle and coaxing and full of love. “A Gantt chart, Genevieve, shows project deadlines on a timeline. My meaning is that karma has its own pace.”

  “That makes sense.” She was startled he’d used her real name. She went strictly by Rena and had changed her last name to hide her adopted father’s famous one, choosing Novo, which meant new in Portuguese. Rena must have used Genevieve with Maya back before she got sober.

  “Karma and Gantt notwithstanding, it is better for all if she leaves us.”

  She? Damn, damn, damn. Angel was a girl. “Who is it?” Her voice seemed too loud in the still room.

  “First, the Quest,” Nigel said. “You are to evict her from her Quarters and ban her from Real Life Lounge forever.”

  So Lifers did get evicted. To be forced out while wanting to stay? A chill rolled through her at the idea. She felt sudden compassion for the wretched girl. “Maybe she didn’t intend to say anything. I talked to the reporter, too. I didn’t know who he was. I might have—”

  “No. Not you. Our faith in you does not come by caprice or blindness, Genevieve.”

  “Thank you.” She fiddled with her fingers, awkward about his kindness. “But, still, the reporter could have misquoted her.”

  “To climb in the Life, to earn honor, requires burden. You are ready, yes?”

  “I am ready,” she said, wanting to progress more than anything.

  “Do you accept the Quest? When I say the name, there is no going back.” Nigel watched her closely.

/>   Rena wrapped herself in Astra’s glow, a cape of calm light. “I accept the Quest.”

  “Then so it shall be.” He nodded. “The traitor you must evict is Cassandra Fletcher.”

  “Cassie?” Her heart stopped mid-beat. “But that’s impossible. Cassie would never betray us. The Life is everything to her.”

  “Thrust sympathy from your heart, Genevieve. Sentiment must not muddy your vision.”

  “But it can’t be her.” When Cassie drank she got chatty. Had that ass-wipe reporter taken advantage of her?

  “When we know cause and effect, there is no surprise. All is predictable if we know the source code, the precise combination of zeroes and ones, the reason, the rhyme, the why and the wherefore.”

  What the hell was he talking about? She couldn’t speak for the lump in her throat. Everything inside her said no, this can’t be, but the man who was responsible for her every happiness said it was true. Nigel knew more than she did. Trust Nigel, Maya had said.

  “Watchers will accompany you. Soon after, you and I will talk again.” He took both her hands, bent his head, and kissed the back of each. She noticed pink scalp through the thin hair on the top of his head, reminding Rena of a bald baby bird. She closed her eyes against the unwelcome sign of Nigel’s fragility.

  He released her hands and smiled. “From the first day, we’ve had hopes for you.”

  Her confusion muffled the warm thrill of Nigel’s words. “I want to be worthy, but I can’t believe Cassie would do such a thing.”

  “Your reaction is natural. May I tell you a story? A very personal one? It may help you tread the rocky path ahead.”

  “Absolutely. Please do.”

  “I went through a difficult time years ago. I was engaged in research on expanding human potential for the military. Caring only for my theories, I thought nothing of the ugly uses to which my research might be put.”

  How did this relate to Cassie? Rena forced herself to keep still. Nigel was a wise man. She should soak up each precious second she spent with him.

  “This question obsessed me—how to expand a human being’s physical capacity, the ability to withstand pain or heat or exhaustion. I believed this was for the greater good.”

  He paused and smiled sadly. “But this blind focus was flawed—a spoiled, grasping, ego-serving conceit. The experiments went…badly. I saw terrible injuries and broken, broken men.” He hung his head and seemed to shrink.

  “It was the dark night of my soul.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “I tested the protocols on myself, to suffer as these men had done, then I tried to stop the work, to end it, but…”

  He stared off, as if he’d forgotten her, then blinked and returned. “It was my good fortune to be rescued by Naomi. She restored me and, incidentally, showed me the power of video games to conquer pain, helplessness, and depression. When I played, I triumphed. I vanquished enemies, rescued the innocent, saved the day. I felt strong and complete.” He smiled at her. “You share this response?”

  “I do. Yes.” She saw herself all those years ago in her uncle’s basement playing Tomb Raider for hours, becoming Lara Croft, effortlessly besting all foes. Lara was her champion, her alter ego, and, as it turned out, her savior.

  “Of course you do. In the Dome, Genevieve, you fight as if your life depends on it.” So he had seen her fight. “We understand each other.” Nigel put a hand on hers, tears in his eyes. Tears. “We are more alike than you know.”

  She nodded. It was as if he knew about that terrible afternoon with her uncle’s hand where it didn’t belong, his weight crushing her, pushing her face down, her mouth there. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Finish your tea.” He waited for her to sip the last of the liquid, which kept its hot sting despite having cooled. Her cup empty, she looked toward the door, where the Asian woman was waiting. Time to leave. Rena stood.

  Nigel stood, too. “The Watchers will find you. Be ready.” He bowed.

  She bowed back. “I will be. Thank you.”

  As she left, she experienced it all again—the dizzying sandalwood, the chimes, the trickling Buddha, the white light, the game screens—except out of sync, smeary, and not quite real, like a dream.

  The door clicked behind her before she remembered she hadn’t asked about the Girl Power Project. The awful Quest had thrown her off altogether. Next time then. Nigel had said they’d meet soon after the eviction.

  Eviction. The thought churned sour acid in her stomach.

  At the elevator, Maya motioned her in, her mood stone now a pale blue. “Did you accept the Quest?”

  Rena nodded and Maya hugged her tight, as if relieved. “Very good.”

  “But it’s an eviction, Maya. I thought leaving was a choice. If you don’t fit, you leave because it feels wrong to stay.”

  “People don’t always know what’s best for them. You like everything clear-cut and black and white, my love, but reality is shades and blurs.”

  “But it’s Cassie, Maya. Cassie.”

  “She committed a crime against the NiGo Family. That’s the sad fact.”

  “But I know her. She can cop an attitude, but she’d never do anything so wrong.”

  “You identify too strongly with Cassie. You’re projecting onto her, but you are not her. Cassie is a ghost here now, haunted by what she’s done. That’s why her alcoholism has intensified.”

  “We should help her with her drinking, not kick her out.”

  “Addicts must hit bottom, remember. For her, the Life is a crutch. When she no longer has it to hold her up, she’ll get the help she needs. By sending her away, you’ll be helping her to move on.”

  “And where will she go? Not home. She hates her mother.” Cassie ran away when her mom turned a blind eye to Cassie’s stepfather hitting on her. When Rena recruited her, Cassie had been giving gamers BJs to play in the Lounge on their dime, crashing on friends’ couches at night.

  “We’re abandoning her, Maya. That’s cold.”

  “I will be talking to her, Rena. I help Lost Lives transition into the outside world. I’ll get her into rehab if that’s at all possible.”

  “You will? That’s good.” A surge of relief passed through her, though her heart still ached for her friend.

  Maya watched her in that diggy-jabby way she did in Group. “This is for the best, Rena. For Cassie, too. Trust us.”

  “I do. Of course I do.” Maya knew a lot about addiction and Nigel said Cassie had betrayed the NiGo Family, unbelievable as it seemed.

  “Cassie has her pride, so she’ll likely deny it,” Maya said. “Prepare yourself. She’ll be convincing. Alcoholics lie to themselves most of all, so you’ll have to be strong.”

  “I will.” Rena squared her shoulders. “I’ll be strong.” The Life mattered more than Cassie or Rena or Maya or any one Lifer. The Life mattered more than anything.

  If that wasn’t true, then Rena was lost for good.

  Chapter Three

  Gage watched a vacant-eyed gamer in a Radiohead T-shirt log in at an EverLife station. Four bucks flashed on the meter, so Gage waved over a Card Girl dressed as BloodRayne, complete with torpedo tits. When she ran the guy’s Visa through the reader, very low on her hips, the guy stared, slack-jawed, just as NiGo Interactive intended.

  Nigel and Naomi Blackstone knew how to work their customers for sure. The air buzzed with hypnotic music and, as in Vegas, there were no clocks to remind players how long they’d been in suspended animation, thumbs twitching, burning up their credit, sucking down Electrique, the electrocution in a can they sold only in the Lounge. The one he’d sipped had him as buzzed as if he’d had four espressos in one pull.

  The operation was slick, but wrong somehow, his reporter instincts told him, though he wasn’t here on a story.

  He was here to find his sister. He’d come back from Mexico after three months on an investigative piece to find Beth’s cell phone dead, her apartment empty, and no forwarding address. She’d dropped out of ASU months
before and, worse, cashed out the thirty grand he’d set aside for the graphic arts business he’d hoped she’d open after she graduated.

  The police put out an “Attempt to Locate,” which meant zip, according to the PI he’d hired to run a skip trace on her. He’d come up empty, too. A Phoenix detective owed him a favor from an investigative piece he’d done, but Gage didn’t want to waste that favor. Not until he got desperate. It didn’t help that Beth changed her name as often as her hair color, going from Lizzie to Betsy, to Eliza, even Elizabeth during her Jane Austen phase. Her last name was different from his, but she’d hated her dad, so she’d no doubt changed that, too.

  But Gage had gotten a break a couple weeks back. Killing time waiting for a bagel at Einstein’s, he’d picked up the weekly rag with the cult story on its cover. The Day-Glo tattoos had tipped him off.

  The last time he’d taken Beth out for a beer, black light on the dance floor had lit up her shoulder like neon. She’d shrugged off his questions, acting fidgety. He should have pushed for more, but his big-brother lectures made her go stone silent, which should have been a clue that all was not well.

  When he read that Life Lounge employees turned over all their personal assets to NiGo for the “greater good of the Family,” it hit him like a gut punch that Beth had probably forked over the thirty grand.

  Worse, in ten days, when she turned twenty-one, she’d get the 100K from her dead father’s life insurance. Beth had hated the guy, who’d left when she was five, but she would take his money. He owes me, she used to say. Gage had to talk her out of throwing away her trust fund, too.

  He’d been furious at first—at the cult, at Beth for hiding from him, at the PI who’d cost too much and learned too little, and at himself for not being a better brother in the first place.

  Then he calmed the hell down. He would take the cold, careful steps he’d learned as a reporter on staff for two major dailies and a freelancer for the last year. He’d get more being on the inside than from official inquiries, so he would track her down as a Lifer himself. Lifer. That’s what the brainwashed employees called themselves. Like a prison sentence.