The Heirs of New Bristol (Lila Randolph Book 1)

by Wren Weston

  “I’m going to get chewed out for this.” Rosemary sighed.

  “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “Want to go to a party at the Masson vineyard? If you can get me out of here and back home without being seen, I’ll even buy you a fancy dress and shoes.”

  Rosemary’s face brightened. “You’re serious? A highborn party? New clothes?” She clapped her hands like a child.

  “I thought the vineyard would be the exciting part of that invitation. You do realize that highborn parties aren’t like the fun ones you’ve dragged me to before?”

  “No, I don’t, but I will,” she said, rocking back on her heels. “Okay, I’ll get Dr. Daniels if I can. She’s discreet.”

  Moments later, Dr. Daniels slipped into the room with Rosemary trailing behind. A few strands of gray dotted the doctor’s red bob. Lila was surprised a woman in her profession had not succumbed and dyed it early, but supposed that working at one of the top hospitals in the country made her hair color a moot point.

  “Rosemary, this is highly irreg—” The doctor’s gaze stopped on Lila, who sat in a plastic chair in the back of the room.

  Lila smiled innocently. “I cut my hands.”

  Dr. Daniels toed a stool toward her and slipped on a pair of latex gloves before sitting down. “The magnifying lamp,” she said to Rosemary.

  The young woman tugged it over.

  Dr. Daniels fussed with lamp for several moments, then gingerly turned Lila’s hands this way and that for a better look. “How did this happen?”

  “Dropped a glass figurine. Tried to sweep it up with my fingers.”

  “Really?” Dr. Daniels raised an eyebrow. “Next time, use a broom.”

  “What’s a broom?”

  Rosemary’s lips twisted, and she turned her head away.

  The doctor peered into Lila’s face. “You’d be surprised by how many highborns come in saying similar nonsense, chief. The only difference is that I believe them. I don’t believe you.”

  “Too much?”

  “These cuts tell a different story. They’re all in a line, and the way they’re imbedded… Were you doing handstands in the shards?”

  “Yes, that’s exactly it. It was a dare. Rosemary is an evil and demanding wench.”

  Dr. Daniels snorted. “I’ve been on for the last twelve hours, and I’m tired, so I’m just going to pretend that I believe you. And because I like my job and I want a raise at my next review, I’m not even going to ask why you smell like smoke and gasoline or why half the staff believes you’re in exam room four.”

  “I like you already. I’ll see what I can do about that review.”

  The doctor washed out Lila’s cuts before injecting her palm with a small amount of local anesthetic. With a tweezer-like tool, she pulled shard after shard from her fingers, dropping them in a metal container in Lila’s lap with a little plink.

  Lila bit the sides of her cheek with each tug.

  “I think that’s the last one.” Dr. Daniels twisted Lila’s hands under the arm of the magnifying lamp one last time. “You’re lucky. You don’t need surgery, just an awful lot of stitches.”

  The doctor quickly sewed up Lila’s palms. After wrapping her hands with bandages and administering a tetanus shot, she cleaned the shallow cut on her neck. Then Rosemary and the doctor fetched a tube of ointment and extra bandages and scooted Lila out through the staff door, down the staircase, and into the parking lot.

  Rosemary drove Lila back to the Randolph estate in her green sedan. Despite the music blaring from the radio, her eyes drooped.

  “You’re not going to tell your mother you saw me in the hospital, are you?” Lila yawned as Rosemary stopped in front of Simone’s. Though Rosemary could easily get inside the estate, Lila had no wish for the blackcoats to start asking questions.

  “I like telling my mother secrets, but I like highborn parties and new clothes more. Don’t let my mother find out, and I’ll take care of Jackie back at the lab.”

  “Deal.”

  Lila stuffed her ointment and bandages into her pockets and closed the car door gently.

  As Rosemary’s car pulled away, she turned on her jammer and dodged the restaurant’s chained-up tables and chairs. Punching a code into a panel by the door, she slipped inside, racing through the darkened space, lit only by the glow from the display cases.

  She found the iron door in the basement, typed in her code once more, and ventured into the tunnels. After a ten-minute walk, she found the exit for the great house’s basement. She wasn’t sure yet how she’d explain away the bandages on her hands, so she crossed her wrists behind her back, keeping them out of sight.

  Slipping through the scullery, she found Alex, sitting on a stool in the dark. She flipped on the lights as soon as Lila’s boots met the tile.

  Lila bit her lip. She’d hoped that she could hack Reaper’s server before she spoke to her friend, but perhaps that was part of the problem. She should have spoken to Alex hours before, immediately after her mother and brother’s arrest.

  She’d make time, and then she’d deal with the article.

  Then she’d go to bed and sleep for days.

  “Where have you been?” Alex hissed. “I had to eat your dinner as well as my own. My stomach is killing me.”

  Lila saw nothing but confusion and frustration in her friend’s eyes. It was obvious that no one had told her yet about her family. Perhaps the staff hadn’t turned on the news. Perhaps the story had not even hit yet. The militias had only been called an hour before. The reporters might have only just descended, kept too far away from the compound to ferret out the story.

  It was a small stroke of good fortune. One last chance to talk to her friend.

  “I’ll tell you upstairs. Is the way clear?”

  “Probably. Everyone else is getting ready for bed.”

  Alex led Lila up to her room, stopping only when Ms. O’Malley ventured from her workborn quarters for a last cup of tea.

  When the elderly woman turned toward the kitchen, Alex and Lila padded up the stairs as quickly as they dared. Though Ms. O’Malley might not hear them, other staff might be lurking in the great house.

  “What happened to your hands?” Alex asked as they reached Lila’s bedroom.

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Fine. I’ll start you another bath,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You reek of smoke.”

  “Alex, no, we need to talk.” Lila gestured for Alex to sit on the couch while she perched on the edge of the coffee table. “I have to talk to you about your mother.”

  “That’s where you were?”

  Lila nodded.

  “She’s been arrested, hasn’t she?”

  “It’s more serious than just that.”

  Alex stared at Lila while she recounted Patrick’s arrest and the chairwoman’s interrogation. She finished with Bullstow’s forced invasion of the Wilson-Kruger estate, leaving out how and why she’d come to be there. “Your mother’s chief must have called them in a panic when they started burning down buildings. People were hurt. I messaged Chief Shaw on the way over. He promised to send me a copy of his—”

  Alex shook her head. “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

  “No.”

  “Patrick couldn’t have done any of that. You have to tell Chief Shaw. He’s just a boy.”

  “He’s Johnny’s age.”

  “Don’t throw that back in my face. You’re wrong about him. The whole thing was my mother’s doing, not Patrick’s. Patrick’s not very… You know him. How can you even think for one moment that he had anything to do with my mother’s scheming, that he could come up with anything like that?”

  “Because I was there when he confessed. Patrick’s not innocent in all this. He was the one supplying
her with—”

  Alex slapped Lila’s cheek.

  Both stared at one another in shock.

  Alex looked away first. She walked into the bathroom, stood before the mirror, and smoothed her blonde hair back into her bun.

  Lila hopped up on the counter beside her, her cheek still burning.

  “I lost my temper,” Alex said, watching Lila’s face from the corner of her eye.

  “I know. I also know this is difficult for you to hear, but Patrick tried to murder me, Alex. He tried to—”

  “Maybe you deserve it,” Alex said quietly. “Did you ever think about that? You’ve stolen me from my family. You’ve stolen Simon and given him away. You’ve killed my mother now as well as Patrick. Right now my family’s estate is burning to the ground, all because of you. What do I have left?”

  Lila stared at the floor, not sure how to answer. Wasn’t this why she couldn’t face Alex earlier in the day? Because she knew what her friend would say? Because she had destroyed Alex’s family, her home? Because she was the reason that Alex would lose her mother and her brother in a few months?

  There wasn’t a way to fix it. There wasn’t any magical phrase that could turn her friend’s anger away. At least she couldn’t think of any, not with her friend’s large eyes searching her face, waiting for her to reveal a punch line, to claim it was all nothing more than a prank.

  Lila wished it was.

  “Say something,” Alex snapped.

  “What can I say? I thought your mother was behind everything. You did, too, or you wouldn’t have helped me. I was wrong, though. We were wrong. Alex, I—”

  “Don’t you dare call me that anymore,” she hissed. “Was it even real when you took me to my family’s estate? All that stuff we overheard in the car?”

  “Of course it was real.”

  “No, it wasn’t. You wanted to keep me as your pet while you tore my family apart, just like after your mother bought my mark, and I was stupid enough to play along because I can’t remember my place.”

  Lila hopped off the sink. “You’re upset. I understand that. I’ll take care of Simon. I’ll make sure that Chief Shaw revisits his case. He’ll be turned over to us as a minor slave, and I’ll get my mother to put him back in school until he graduates. I’ll do the best I can for him and for you. But Patrick did this. He’s guilty whether you want to hear the truth or not.”

  “No, he’s not. And don’t you dare go near Simon. I don’t want him anywhere near you or your family. You turn everything to ash.”

  Lila tried to grab at her friend’s shoulder, but Alex brushed her off, nearly knocking her off balance.

  “Let me go. I have to go clean something before I’m the next one sent to Bullstow.”

  “Alex—”

  Alex turned, red-faced, and poked Lila in the chest. “I said not to call me that again. Not ever. I don’t understand why you couldn’t have just waited until my mother died. Do you and your mother really need the money right now? Did you have to frame Patrick to get it?”

  “I didn’t frame—”

  “Oh gods.” Alex breathed in. “Your family really did kill them, didn’t you? Lizette and Madeline. I was in that car too, Lila! I heard them cry out. I watched them bleed and die waiting for an ambulance. I almost died, too. Were you there when it happened? Did you watch?”

  “Gods, no! I had nothing to do with it, and you know it. They were like sisters to me. If I thought for one moment that anyone in my family was involved, I’d bring them to Bullstow myself. Alex, I—”

  “I said don’t call me that!”

  “You saw your mother’s compound. You know that what I’m telling you is the truth!”

  Alex’s fists bunched at her side.

  Lila knew her friend was far too close to the edge. “You should probably go now before you say or do something you’ll regret.”

  Alex bowed low to the ground. “Of course, madam chief. Whatever you wish. I’ll consider myself dismissed.”

  Alex turned on her heel, marched from the room, and slammed Lila’s bedroom door.

  Chapter 29

  Lila sat in Chief Shaw’s office three days later, out of uniform, sipping a mug of chocolate at six o’clock in the morning. He’d zoomed the map on his wall to East New Bristol, centering on the Wilson-Kruger estate. Lila followed the lights as they zoomed down the streets. Shaw did the same. He seemed unwilling to look away, as if it might erupt into fireworks if he took both eyes away for more than a fraction of a second.

  “How are your hands?”

  Lila slid the sleeves of her sweater over the bandages. Only her fingertips poked from the gauze. “They’re fine. It was just a spill on my Firefly. I was going too fast.”

  Shaw leaned back in his desk chair with a squeak. “I’m sorry that I haven’t had a chance to meet with you before today. We’ve been busy resettling the highborn into public housing until they can find servant’s contracts. Our tech department has been digging through the security footage, or at least what’s left of it, and processing those who were arrested. Governor Lecomte is demanding trials for anyone responsible of violence. Seven dead, four of those highborn. A dozen more in critical care. Scores injured. It’s a nasty bit of business.”

  “I knew three of the dead through Alex.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss. Hers too. I hope she wasn’t close with the child.”

  Lila shook her head. A boy of fourteen had caught a bullet in the shoulder, bleeding out on the way to Randolph General. A son of a third cousin with few dividends, he likely would have spent the first few years of his adult life as a slave, for his parents had frittered away what little money they had on clothes and cars.

  His anger had led him to the riot.

  His anger had gotten him killed.

  “He was in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Shaw said, shaking his head. “Just like the rest. What a waste.”

  “He was part of a riot. They all were.”

  Shaw shifted in his chair. “Highborns do not riot. Neither do lowborn. The workborn mob dragged them from their apartments. We have witnesses.”

  “You have stories from highborns who were injured during their own foolishness. What they claim and what really happened are two different things. With the exception of the militia, I didn’t see anyone who didn’t want to be there. They were angry at Bullstow, angry at everything and everyone in their compound. Your own men can confirm that. I’m only surprised more weren’t killed.”

  “Well, we’ll let Dr. Booth and his team finish their medical reports.”

  “You and the press both. I’m just glad your men were wearing vests. How many got shot?”

  “Over a dozen. They should all pull through, all except for Captain O’Bryan. His funeral is this afternoon.” Chief Shaw scratched his mustache. “I don’t want to sound uncaring, but New Bristol isn’t coming out well in the media. We’re the leading topic on every newscast in the Allied Lands, every front page, every conversation. We look like violent heathens after the bombing and the riot. Several of the matrons have already contacted me, fuming about the expected dip in tourism.”

  “The press is easily distracted. They’ll move on to something new in a few days.”

  “How’s Ms. Wilson taking all of this?”

  “Not well. She’s not talking to me. She won’t believe Patrick’s guilt until it comes from his own mouth. Chef’s agreed to bring her down once he’s cleared for visitors, but I suspect that Alex will still blame me.”

  “Give her time. It’s a lot to take in. She lost family, and she’ll lose more in the end.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I’m not happy that you were there, chief.”

  “I’m not happy I was there either. I almost died in a fire and nearly got my head cut off.” She stalled, trying to remember the story she’d told him. Zephyr had called her to the tun
nels alone in an attempt to bribe her. When Lila had refused to pay him off, he’d tried to kill her. She’d shot him in self-defense with his own gun, a gun he’d loaded with bullets without her knowledge.

  She hoped Dr. Booth was too busy to do a proper autopsy.

  “Did you find Zephyr?” she asked.

  “Yes, Dr. Booth and I found him inside the tunnel right by the door, exactly as you said. We’ve recorded his death as a heart attack, and we haven’t included it in our official account.”

  “Who was he really?”

  “Nicodemus Poulin, according to the DNA results. He lived in an apartment in East New Bristol.”

  Lila pulled out her palm. “Give me the address. I’ll head over and start digging into his computer—”

  “We already raided his apartment two days ago, chief. We found nothing. Zilch. He wiped the memory of every computer and gadget he had before he went to see you. Even his palm.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  But Lila knew Shaw told the truth. It made her failure sting a little less, for she’d fallen asleep shortly after returning from the hospital, far too tired to locate the article that night.

  She’d paid deeply for that rest. The quick nap she’d promised herself had turned into fourteen hours, for Isabel had been too timid to wake her. During the night, she’d had another dream of the ancient battle queen, prodding her to visit the New Bristol oracle. This time, the woman hadn’t asked nearly so pleasantly, and Lila’s skull had ached for the next twelve hours. She’d lived on coffee ever since, too wary of falling asleep lest the dream come again, too scared of the article’s release to abandon her search.

  Unfortunately, she’d failed to locate it. The server and the story had disappeared while she slept. Now that she knew Reaper’s electronics had been wiped, it made more sense.

  It also explained why she hadn’t seen the story in the press.

  “I don’t understand. Why would he wipe everything?”

  “Who knows?” Shaw replied. “I know how you’re feeling, chief. We both wanted a clearer picture of what Zephyr was up to, but it looks like there’s nothing to find. You’re free to rifle through his computers. Maybe you can figure out a way to recover his files. I’ll have my men deliver them to your office if you wish.”