Liquid Lies

by Hanna Martine

  She turned as pale as a Plant Tedran. When she didn’t say anything, he kept going.

  “I know you didn’t know about the slaves. I didn’t want to believe you at first, but I believe it now. And I understand that you want to make things right. I see it in the way you handle Genesai, the way you’re thinking about my people and your own. We forced you into this situation and you’re helping us. I think you deserve a place on the ship. I don’t think you deserve what will happen after we’re gone.”

  Her face went from bloodless to tomato red in less than a second. Advancing fast on him, she jabbed a finger into his chest. “You want me to leave them? You want me to betray my people, then abandon them to public fear and government investigation while I sail off into the sunset?”

  He threw up his hands in defense, utterly speechless, but she plowed on.

  “I know you think you’re offering me something good, some sort of twisted ‘thank you’ for a job well done, but I’m not a fucking coward. You think I’d give the government the match to ignite the bomb then fly away to avoid the blast? No, Xavier. I’m not going with you. I want every single Ofarian to know what I was forced to do here. I want them to know my shame over how we’ve used the Tedrans. I want them to know I tried to make it better for both races. I’m sure as hell not turning my back on them.”

  As she stomped up the steps, all Xavier could think was that he could not wait to get off Earth.

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Xavier locked her in the bedroom she was so very sick of. When she closed her eyes, the small, clean space retained Reed’s image like pencil marks that clung to a piece of paper even after the drawing had been erased.

  He’d told her once, during the night after their joint shower, as he’d folded her against his body, that he always traveled lightly for a job. So lightly that he rarely brought anything but the clothes on his back. It added to the anonymity, he claimed, and helped to maintain the separation between the Retriever and his true self. She wondered what had been left behind next door. Some socks, maybe. A pair of jeans.

  The thought buckled her body and she collapsed onto the bed. In the rush and worry of that morning, she hadn’t straightened the sheets. For once in her life she didn’t care. She cursed the tears that came as she burrowed into the wrinkled sheets and encased herself in the dark of the piled blankets.

  Her fingers brushed something hard and cold.

  The object in one hand, she stretched for the lamp and clicked it on. She blinked at what rested in her palm.

  Reed’s watch. Not the strange Tedran device, but the Cartier Chronograph. His watch.

  Night came and she clenched it all through the dark. Not even sleep allowed her to let go of him. The next morning, the watch band and time set knob had gouged into her skin. When the marks faded, she squeezed the watch again to make new dents.

  Xavier dosed her with nelicoda and marched her downstairs. They didn’t look at each other, didn’t acknowledge in the slightest way their conversation from last night. He confused the hell out of her. One second he was Nora’s pawn, the angry former Tedran slave. The next he was trying to help her, in his own twisted way. Still, his actions would result in her end and that of the Ofarians.

  That’s why she’d taken the nelicoda that morning without argument. Because when it dulled her and hollowed her out, at least she wouldn’t be connected to the powers that made her Ofarian. At least she wouldn’t feel completely like a traitor.

  All day she translated for Adine and Genesai. By the appearance of their bleary eyes and the scads of nonsensical drawings, they’d stayed up the better part of the night trying to communicate. Gwen sat on the floor next to the coffee table in the living room, mindlessly interpreting Genesai’s explanations about his ship, and describing Adine’s blueprints for some truly remarkable inventions.

  Across the room, near the fireplace, Xavier and Nora huddled, whispering. Though his attention was fixed on his leader, every now and then he’d glance her way.

  Through it all, Gwen kept one hand in her sweater pocket, where she’d secreted Reed’s watch.

  She was laden with reminders that day; before following Xavier downstairs, she’d stuffed the photographs of the Plant he’d given her into her bra. They itched, but she wanted to be reminded of whom, in the end, she was helping.

  Through the glass wall she watched the sun creep down, millimeter by millimeter. Every now and then, Genesai would stare out at the lake, too, and they’d share a knowing look. She’d nod in reassurance, and then go back to watching the sun, how it changed minute by minute on the water. When it fell behind the mountains, backlighting the peaks in stunning color and staining the sky in hot pink and orange, she sighed. Another day gone. Another day closer to the end.

  The glass wall exploded.

  A terrible, metallic sound roared through the house. Cold wind rushed inside. Pointed glass shards rained down, stabbing into the carpet.

  Adine was screaming, scrambling over the back of the couch, pulling Genesai with her. Nora wailed behind Xavier’s back as he pressed her into a corner, his eyes wide with fear and bewilderment.

  Gwen calmly rose to her feet. Smiling. Jubilant. She sensed them before she saw them.

  Ofarians.

  There. Movement by the terrace stairs. An arm extended around the staircase opening, a gun clutched in a meaty hand. The man attached to it swept into view. Another appeared, then another. Five black-clad soldiers swarmed across the terrace, crouching low, gun arms extended. Two knocked out the remainder of the glass. The other three hurdled through the ragged hole. Glass crunched under their boots as they fanned out through the living room, shouting to see everyone’s hands.

  Tedranish whispered in the air as Xavier and Nora tried to form two different enchantments—one for invisibility, one for a confusing distraction—but nothing happened.

  “They’ve neutralized us,” Xavier shouted. He lunged for an Ofarian, throwing a punch that had little skill but a long reach and lots of passion. The Ofarian staggered, but another soldier came up, threw his arms around Xavier from behind, and subdued him.

  Nora slyly lowered her arms, one hand going for her watch. A soldier swung around, aiming his gun at her chest. “Don’t move.”

  Gwen knew that voice. David.

  “Gwennie,” David said over his shoulder. “You okay?”

  Hands pressed to her lips, Gwen nodded exuberantly. They were here. Her people. Which meant that Reed had somehow succeeded. He’d reached Griffin.

  It also meant that her father knew where she was and who had taken her. And if he knew, so did the Board. The Plant…the Tedrans…

  One issue at a time. Get out of there. Find out what Griffin knew.

  “Get their wrist devices,” she told David, who promptly gave the order to strip the three Tedrans of their gadgets.

  Faintly, in the distance, started a gentle and repetitive whump whump whump. The sound crescendoed, drawing closer. Helicopter.

  A rubber-melting squeal whipped her attention to the large semicircular window above the front door. It framed the driveway as it slanted up to the road. Two black vans screeched down the drive, busting through the gate, and swerved to a stop. House alarms came to ear-splitting life.

  The front door burst inward. More Ofarian soldiers poured inside like black water after a dam break. They flowed around the main floor and up the stairs. One even broke the lock to Adine’s basement and descended into it.

  The whump whump whump grew louder and louder.

  Gwen whirled in every direction, searching for Reed in every soldier. If he’d gotten a hold of Griffin, maybe that meant he’d come back for her. If he wasn’t here, she told herself, it didn’t mean he was dead. No. He could just be gone. In hiding to protect himself from Tracker. Or from her.

  It was counterproductive to jump to conclusions at this stage. She mentally slapped herself and turned toward the sound of Xavier’s Tedranish cursing. David knocked Xavier to his knees, and the Tedran h
it hard. Instantly Xavier’s shoulders slumped, his chin dropping to his chest. David slapped a black adhesive patch over Xavier’s mouth and clamped handcuffs outfitted with a glowing green neutralizer around his wrists.

  Though appalled by David’s treatment, Gwen said nothing for fear of tipping her hand. It might be better to let her people continue to believe that the established roles of staunch enemies were still alive. She couldn’t explain it; it was just a feeling, and one she intended to follow until she found out what the hell was going on.

  Adine and Nora looked so small and fragile in their restraints. Adine kept her eyes on the carpet. Nora looked her captors right in the face.

  When Xavier lifted his eyes and found Gwen, the resignation in his posture cut deep. David roughly hauled Xavier to his feet. She went to Xavier, plastered a false sneer on her face, and spit out in Tedranish, so the Ofarians wouldn’t understand, “You think this is the end, but it isn’t. I’ll stop Mendacia. I’ll free your people. I promise you.”

  She pivoted away before she could see his reaction.

  “Gwen!”

  That dear, dear voice, back from her past. Griffin stalked across the foyer. Dark hair combed back, black uniform crisp, weapons holstered, he headed right for her. She vaulted up the two steps into the foyer. They met in a crushing embrace, the various doodads attached to his vest digging into her chest.

  “You’re alive,” he whispered into her hair. Even under the screeching alarm, she heard him.

  “You came.” Because of Reed. She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “Where’s—”

  “Don’t.” Jaw clamped shut, Griffin’s lips barely moved. His eyes flickered from side to side, like he was ten and sneaking a beer. “Not here.”

  The WHUMP WHUMP WHUMP devoured the house now, fighting with the blare of the alarm. Outside the air churned, whipping the trees around the house in their own little tornado. Through the busted front door, she watched a great black helicopter land on the main road, its blades slicing the air and throwing the surrounding foliage into a fury.

  Griffin circled one arm in the air, keeping the other firmly around her shoulders. “Move out!” Even standing right next to him, Gwen could barely hear the order over the cacophony.

  Underneath the din of the copter and the house alarm cut the first high whine of distant Primary police sirens.

  A sea of black ebbed back through the front door. Uniformed men and women streamed out from the corners of the house, heading for the vans. One carried a laptop computer up from the basement. David and others pushed the three Tedrans toward the waiting vehicles. One Ofarian dragged a writhing, howling Genesai.

  “No! Wait!” Gwen peeled free from Griffin’s embrace and went for Genesai.

  She pried him from the Ofarian’s clutches, but she recognized the first signs of him about to pass out.

  “Genesai.” She took his face in her hands. “It’s going to be all right. These people are with me.” These people. Who are Ofarians.

  His eyes rolled back. “They took Nora. They took Adine!”

  “Gwen,” came Griffin’s warning. The sirens were drawing closer.

  “My ship…my ship…” Genesai wailed. His bound hands grabbed at the air toward the shattered window.

  “Look at me, Genesai. I will bring you to her. You will fly with her again. I promise.”

  So many promises. She prayed she wouldn’t have to pick and choose which ones to keep.

  He passed out. An Ofarian lugged him over his shoulder.

  They fled the house. Outside, the vans loaded up, circled the drive, and gunned it up the steep hill back to the road. They jumped the curb and swerved around the helicopter, heading north. The sirens and flashing lights approached from the south.

  Griffin pulled her up the steep drive, sprinting right into the gale created by the copter. Her calves and thighs burned. Her lungs pressed flat against her ribs. She fell into the helicopter, Griffin following suit half a second later. He yanked the door shut and the craft lifted with a jolt.

  Up, up they rose. The sun had set, and the blue and red lights of the Primary police sparkled brightly in the new darkness below. She wondered what they would find in the lake house when they investigated. She wondered what, if anything, they would make of it.

  Had the Ofarian soldiers royally screwed up? By coming after her in the way they had, had they compromised themselves?

  The copter careened southwest, back toward San Francisco. Back to the only place she’d ever called home. Back to the place she dreaded. This must be what it feels like, she thought, to have your arm ripped off then reattached, only to have your body reject it.

  She sensed eyes on her and turned from the window to find Griffin watching her with a dark, guarded expression. What had Reed told him? Where was Reed?

  Griffin gave her a small but firm shake of the head, echoing what he’d conveyed in the house. Not here.

  A terrible BOOM shook the entire valley. Overtook the deafening buzz of the helicopter. Vibrated in her chest.

  “Fuck, what was that?” Griffin screamed, motioning for the pilot to circle and check it out.

  The pilot banked sharply to the right. When they came about, a great fireball tumbled upward, smoke and flame unfolding, swallowing every inch of the rocky promontory where the lake house had sat.

  She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t feel her skin. Couldn’t hear. The helicopter froze in midair.

  Another explosion consumed the boathouse. The submarine had been in there. A hideous wail filled the helicopter cabin and she realized, seconds later, that it was hers.

  Nora’s final statement. Her fail-safe, should anything go wrong. If returning to Tedra wasn’t going to happen on her terms, it wasn’t going to happen at all.

  THIRTY-FIVE

  The helicopter touched down on a circular cement pad some-where on the peninsula. It wasn’t San Francisco International; it didn’t even feel municipal. Another of the Company’s hidden places secured with money bled from Tedran lives.

  A huge silver BMW waited at the edge of the pad.

  “My dad?” she gasped as the helicopter blades whined to a stop.

  Griffin shook his head. “The Chairman is on his way back from Saint Petersburg. A few others have to fly in on red-eyes. The Board’ll gather tomorrow.”

  That left her a little speechless. She’d only been “dead” a week and the Board was already back at work? She could understand the others, but her dad? He’d mourned Delia’s exile for weeks. But then, Delia had never been nearly as involved in the Company as Gwen.

  As they hurried to the waiting car, Griffin pressed the communication piece in his ear. “That kid’s still out,” he reported to her.

  She worried about Genesai. “He may be for a while. Can they get him to me? I should be the first person he sees when he wakes up.”

  Griffin eyed her, then nodded before relaying the order. “Who is he?”

  “Not a Tedran.”

  The fact that Griffin didn’t ask another question said that he knew far more than he was letting on. Everything she needed to say bubbled up inside her, threatening to split her skin. As they tumbled into the waiting BMW, she opened her mouth to let out a barrage of her own questions, but he gave that little shake of his head again and pointed to the ceiling. Company car. Of course it was bugged.

  Griffin directed the driver to the fluorescent-lit corner diner the two of them had always turned to in their early twenties when their late-night, alcohol-filled stomachs demanded it. They wedged themselves into a booth, their butts barely touching the vinyl before their voices overlapped.

  “What the hell is going on, Gwen?”

  “What do you know?”

  “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “What are we supposed to do now?”

  “Did you talk to Reed? Where is he?”

  “Reed.” Griffin leaned back. “You want to start with him?”

  She
swallowed, trying to bring moisture to her dry mouth. “You knew where I was, which means you must have talked to him. Have you seen him? Is he alive?”

  She’d only been gone a week, but Griffin’s eyes seemed much darker than she remembered. He just sat there, staring at her.

  “Oh, God.” Her breath hitched. “Just tell me.”

  “He’s alive.”

  She started to laugh. A hysterical, crazy sort of laughter.

  “He’s being held with the Tedrans at the Plant.”

  The laughter died. “What?”

  Jaw set tight, Griffin ground out, “It was the only way. I had to tell the Board we caught the kidnapper. How would that look if I hadn’t?”

  “You captured him?”

  “At least I know where he is now.”

  “Yeah, but you captured him?”

  Griffin showed her his palms. “Whoa. I think you need to back up and start from the beginning. I’m flying blind here.”

  She twisted the zipper on her sweater. “Can you tell me what he said to you when he called? I’ll fill in the rest.”

  He ran a hand through his glossy brown hair. The pieces around his ears and neck curled a bit. Stubble shadowed his cheeks and chin. So unusual for Griffin, who’d always made a point to be styled and shaved.

  “I almost didn’t pick up the phone.” He stared at his hands, fingers spread on the table. “The number came through as ‘private,’ but I just had a feeling. I can’t explain it. It was almost a premonition. Like how, even when my back is to the door, I know when you walk into a room.”

  Though he said it matter-of-factly, an uncomfortable flush crept up her neck.

  “I thought you were dead—we all did—but I knew the phone call had something to do with you. Then I heard this guy’s voice and my stomach dropped. He said there wasn’t time to talk but that you were still alive, being held hostage by the Tedrans. I asked him if he was one of them and he said no. Then he told me I couldn’t go after you until he told me the whole story. Only me.