black tiger (Black Tiger Series Book 1)

by Sara Baysinger

  Who could be calling me? I put the earpiece in place and leave the room. I’ve never spoken into a phoneband before, and I’m not sure exactly what to say. “Um. Who’s…this?”

  “Hello.” Forest’s warm voice speaks from the earpiece, and my entire being melts. “This is Forest Turner. Is this Miss Carter?”

  “Forest.” Finally. Something familiar. “It’s so good to hear from you.”

  “Are you doing okay? Are they treating you well at the hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  A pause.

  “Good. That’s great to hear. I was calling because I would like to extend a welcoming dinner in your honor. Nothing big. Not like the Feast of St. Nick tomorrow night. Would you like to come to dinner at my house tonight? It’ll just be you, me, and my family. Something informal to help your adjustment to Frankfort.”

  “Um.” What sort of invitation is this? I’m a prisoner receiving his pity one moment, and now he wants me as an honored guest? I swallow hard. “Sure. But I don’t know how to get to your…um…house.”

  “Not a problem.” I can hear the smile in his voice. “I’ll send a car to pick you up at five-thirty. Will that work for you?”

  “Of course.” Not like I have anything else to do.

  “Brilliant. I look forward to seeing you, Miss Carter.”

  I click the button on my phoneband and take the earpiece out. I have no idea how people manage to wear these things in their ears all day. Setting it on the coffee table, I sink down on the couch. Why does Forest want me over for dinner? I should be flattered.

  But Judah warned me never to trust a politician. I try to see Forest the Politician through Judah’s lens, because what if Judah’s right? What if Forest suddenly decided that I might somehow have valuable information he wants because of my association with Leaf and his association with Jonah Walker? What if he’s trying to weasel his way into my life to gain my trust?

  Because it’s a little bit weird that he invited me over for dinner. In the Garden, people didn’t just invite guests over for meals. Ever. Food is too valuable to serve just anybody. But Judah said food isn’t scarce here, so maybe Forest really is just trying to be nice.

  When I tell LeighAnn about my dinner plans, she’s ecstatic. “Very good! The Turners are great people. We’ll make you look so beautiful, Congressman Turner won’t be able to take his eyes off of you.”

  Five-thirty is still a long way off. It’s only nine a.m., and I have nothing to do. I’m not used to sitting idle. There was always too much work to do on the orchard growing up, and it’s a habit for me to stay busy. I follow LeighAnn into the kitchen, and she begins pulling food out of the fridge.

  “How can I help?” I ask.

  “Go relax,” LeighAnn says. “And I will make you the best breakfast you’ve ever tasted.”

  I don’t tell her I already had breakfast.

  “Or perhaps a stroll in the park will be good for you, after being locked up for so long, hm?” she says.

  “I don’t think I’m allowed to leave the room. I’m still under guard.”

  “Ah yes.” She closes the refrigerator. “Well, then. What do you love to do? What’s your favorite hobby?”

  Hobby? We Proletariats don’t really have hobbies. But then I think of Defender Shepherd and the art supplies he would bring and the elation I experienced by getting lost in creating art. Do I dare say it aloud? “Um. I like to paint and sketch.”

  “Ah. Perfect. A Patrician and an artist.”

  I don’t bother telling her my art sucks.

  “Since you’re a Patrician now,” LeighAnn says, “everything is at your disposal. I will call room service. You can give them a list of everything you want.” She looks at me and winks. “It will be here within the hour.”

  Everything I want? LeighAnn hands me a piece of paper and a pencil. What could it hurt? I might as well soak up these last few hours of luxury before returning to the Garden. I might as well claim my so-called Patrician blood before they realize I’m not really Patrician. So I begin listing off paper, drawing pencils, oils, paint brushes, and canvases. All the things Defender Shepherd used to bring me. When I finish, LeighAnn looks at the list.

  “Hmm.” She taps her pressed lips with her index finger, then holds her hand out to me. “Pencil, please.” I hand it over, and she begins adding more things to the list, then hands it back to me with a big smile. “Might as well take everything you can get, yes?”

  I look over the list and read the extra things she added. Things called colored pencils and water colors and acrylics and three different kinds of papers and sponges and brushes and things called glass window paint sets and crayons and coloring books.

  “Look good?” LeighAnn asks.

  I nod.

  “Very good.” She calls room service, and they bring all the art supplies within the hour.

  Because of my love for books, I automatically pick up the coloring book first and flip through all the pre-drawn pictures. They’re deeply detailed and intricate and I wish I could draw something like this.

  LeighAnn hands me the crayons. “Why not add some color to that picture, hm?”

  I feel like a kid who’s been given her very first birthday present, and I don’t even care. I accept the crayons, select a cobalt blue, the color of Forest’s eyes, and begin filling in the shapes. Coloring is a different form of art entirely. It’s almost therapeutic. I mean, the basic picture is finished, I don’t have to worry about creating anything, although I like creating. I just let my brain rest and focus on the simplicity of colors. It feels good to not think about anything else right now.

  When four-thirty rolls around, LeighAnn interrupts me from my art-trance. I’d just learned how to use the watercolors to paint a small, palm-sized octagonal stained glass window.

  “Time to get ready for dinner.” She disappears into my room.

  I rise from the desk and follow her. She selects a lovely white and red toga with white sandals, and without my consent, she begins undressing me, all the while talking excitedly about the mystery of my Patrician blood.

  “Everyone saw it,” she says as she puts the finishing touches on my hair. “They had the cameras on you during the escape. A little slice of excitement in this city that’s always hungry for drama. Everyone saw you communicate with those black tigers, just like a regular Patrician.”

  “So, wait, can you communicate with black tigers?”

  She looks at me in surprise and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’m not Patrician. So, no. I don’t have that kind of power.”

  “But, you act like it’s common knowledge that Patricians can control the tigers. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  “It’s not public knowledge.” She finishes fixing my hair. “I only know because I’ve lived in Frankfort all my life. But to have Patrician blood. That’s a gift.”

  “Why does it matter? Who cares that I have Patrician blood?”

  “Don’t you know?” She leads me to the door. “Patricians are royalty. You are a part of the original founders’ of Ky’s bloodline. My advice to you, miss? Soak it up and revel in the delights Frankfort has to offer. This is a rare gift. Rare indeed.” And she walks me out the door and closes it firmly behind me.

  The vehicle is waiting outside the hotel at exactly five-thirty, as promised. This is the first time I get to see how the Patricians actually live. Do they really live in mansions, like Judah said? But I’m more excited about seeing Forest, despite Judah’s warning.

  The vehicle travels through Frankfort for twenty minutes, according to the clock on the dashboard, then rolls up to a black iron gate. The gate opens, and the jeep rolls down a black-top driveway. Trees arch over the driveway, shading the vehicle from the sun. The road curves and an enormous mansion with a red tile roof comes into view. When the driver opens the door for me, I step out and climb the stairs to the front porch, which is huge and graced with a white banister. The doors open before I get a chance to knock, an
d an older woman looks up at me.

  “Miss Carter.” She opens the door wider and gestures for me to enter. “This way, please.” I step in and she closes the door behind me. “Wait here.”

  All these maids are probably the most polite people I have ever met.

  While she’s gone, I study my surroundings. The foyer alone is a three-story tall cylindrical chamber, with a stained-glass ceiling. Sunlight glints off the railing of a spiral staircase. Plants wrap around the edge of the room, and a black leather couch harbors the space in between them. This room looks like something from a palace.

  “Miss Carter,” Forest says as he descends the marble stairs. He approaches me and kisses me lightly on the cheek. The small gesture makes heat rush to my face. “I’m delighted to host you for dinner. Please, this way.”

  So formal. I link my arm through his extended elbow and follow him through the hallway, hoping my embarrassment or lack of Patrician manners isn’t too obvious. “Thanks for having me, Forest.”

  “I thought you deserved a better welcome than a lonely stay at the hotel.” He smiles down at me. “By the way, I told you that you’d pass the test. How did it go?”

  I grimace, remembering the black tiger and how I almost died. “I passed. That’s all that matters.”

  He stops and faces me. His smile fades and a deep sorrow fills his eyes. “What happened?”

  I wave my hand in the air. “They stuck a black tiger on me. It was—it was like escaping the prison all over again. Like Judah’s death all over again. And I—” My voice chokes off and I look away.

  “I’m sorry,” Forest says softly. “I honestly didn’t realize they would actually use a black tiger.” He reaches out, takes my hand and presses my palm firmly between his fingers. The gesture is oddly comforting. I look at him, at his honest blue eyes, an ocean of raw emotion.

  He swallows convulsively and says, “I won’t bring it up again.”

  I nod. Grateful. Because I’m so incredibly ready to move on from the nightmare that was this past week. We continue walking through the hall until we arrive at the dining room. A crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling above a long wooden table, and the floor is made of black tile. A window runs the length of one wall, allowing the orange light of the sunset to spill into the room. A thin, older man with pale skin, graying hair, and eyes as blue as Forest’s sits at the head of the table. He rises to his feet and inclines his head toward me.

  “Miss Carter, I would like to introduce my father, Congressman Thomas Turner.” Forest looks at his dad. “Father, this is the girl I told you about.”

  He talked about me?

  Thomas smiles gravely. He wears a crisp black suit with the traditional politician vest. His fedora hangs on the knob of his chair. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Carter. Please, sit.”

  “We are still waiting for my brother.” Forest rolls his eyes. “As usual, he’s running late. Mother won’t be joining us. She always works late on Fridays.”

  I accept the chair the maid offers, and Forest sits across from me.

  Thomas leans forward in his chair. “It’s remarkable, Miss Carter, that you would be able to escape Frankfort Prison. That place is flooded with Defenders and alarm systems. It’s wired to the bone with cameras. Please tell me. How did you manage to escape?”

  I gasp because I didn’t really expect an interrogation, but then maybe I should have because Judah told me. He told me Forest only wanted to question me. So he brought me here and now I’m trapped by him and his father.

  Forest clears his throat. “I doubt Miss Carter wants to relive her near-death experience, Father.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  “My apologies,” Thomas says with a polite nod. He accepts a glass of champagne from the maid. “Perhaps, instead we could discuss the matter of—”

  His words are cut short by the doors bursting open. I glance at the doorway, and every last thought collapses in my brain because Rain.

  Rain. is. here.

  His newsboy cap is crooked, his vest wrinkled, and his white shirt untucked. He pauses when he sees me, his gray eyes flashing with amusement, then smirks and strides into the room. “Sorry I’m late, Father. Didn’t miss anything, did I?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Surprise doesn’t quite cut what I’m feeling at this incredibly awful moment. It’s like a nest of ants decided to take up residence in my stomach and now they’re digging digging digging and turning my stomach inside out until I think I’m going to puke. Because Rain isn’t exactly the bearer of good news.

  He brought me to the prison.

  He gave me the Black Tiger Test.

  He’s the arrogant, smirking son of a jackal who never ceases to bring the absolute worst out of me. And right now, in front of Forest and Forest’s father, I desperately need to be on my best behavior.

  Yes. Rain’s unexpected presence is a serious problem.

  I’m not the only one who tenses at Rain’s presence. His father’s posture becomes more rigid, his brows more furrowed. “Rain,” Thomas says. “I’d like to introduce to you Miss—”

  “Carter,” Rain says with a brilliant smile as he pulls out the chair beside Forest and hunkers down. “The living legend. Pleased to see you again.” He lifts his champagne in salute. “Welcome to Frankfort. My brother wouldn’t stop talking about you.”

  “You—you’re brothers?”

  “You’re surprised.” Rain grins like he’s enjoying my discomfort.

  “Well, it’s just—Forest never said anything about a brother.” They’re so incredibly different.

  “I didn’t think it necessary,” Forest says.

  “Is there anything else I should know?” I ask.

  Forest’s eyebrows flicker. “Like what?”

  A mischievous glimmer sparks Rain’s eyes. “Perhaps she’d like to know that you and Olivia Doss are engaged.”

  The words are like a blow to the stomach. Olivia, the girl who assigned me my career. The girl who kissed Forest on the cheek on Career Day. I wondered if something was going on between them. But engaged? Heat creeps up my neck and I swallow hard, wish I could disappear forever.

  A muscle jerks in Forest’s jaw, but his eyes remain locked with mine. “I meant to tell you, but—”

  “But he thought you were going to die.” Rain offers a mock-sorry smile and shrugs. “Turns out you’re clever enough to escape the most guarded prison in the country, you can talk to black tigers, and––surprise, surprise––you’re a Patrician.”

  “About that.” Thomas looks at me. “Did you have any idea you had Patrician blood, Miss Carter? Or was it as much a surprise to you as it was to all of us?”

  I tear my gaze from Rain’s and stare at Thomas. “I had no idea. I didn’t even know you Patricians could communicate with black tigers. Tell me, how is it possible?”

  Thomas considers my question for a moment, then curls his upper lip in an arrogant smile, making him look much like Rain. Even with age, he is handsome, like both of his sons. “Let’s just say the Patrician genes are…altered. Different than Proletariat genes.”

  “How so?”

  He waves his hand dismissively in the air, the way I’ve seen both Rain and Forest do so many times. Those two are a bit more alike than I care to admit. “I don’t want to bore you with the details. I’d rather hear your story. How did you come to be Patrician?”

  I look down at my plate. Sometime during the chaotic moment when Rain entered the room, our food was brought out. A big round plate with a giant steak, potatoes, and an assortment of vegetables remains untouched. My stomach is too tied up in knots to be hungry.

  But Thomas’s question lingers in my mind. How did I become a Patrician?

  Looking at Rain, I arch a brow. “Rain was the one who tested me. He should be able to tell you.”

  All eyes turn to Rain, but he stuffs a bite of steak in his mouth and shrugs. “I took her blood and sent it to the lab. Results aren’t i
n yet.” He swallows. Grins. “Hopefully they’ll know in two days.”

  “Two days?” I ask. “Two days?”

  He nods.

  Two days sounds like an eternity. I don’t want to stay in Frankfort for two more days.

  “You tested her?” Thomas asks Rain. “Why were you placed in that position?”

  “Brown had me do it. I was shadowing him for the day, he had some business to attend to, so he temporarily assigned me to the position.”

  “How did you like Brown’s job?” Thomas leans back in his chair. “Do you think that will be the career you choose?”

  Choose.

  “I don’t know, Father.” Rain rolls his eyes. “I’m still deciding.” He finishes off his champagne and sets the glass down with cool indifference.

  “You already turned down the career as a General of Defenders,” Thomas says. “I thought you would do well with that title.”

  General of Defenders? He was offered that position? That must be why he was the one who took me to the stadium.

  “Yeah,” I snap. All eyes are on me. “Why didn’t you choose the career as a General of Defenders, Rain?”

  He stares at me with those steel gray eyes. “Why on earth would I?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Lack of emotion? Heart cold as stone?” I size him up. “Perfect attributes of a Defender.”

  He tilts his head, narrows his eyes. “Ordering a bunch of brainless Defenders around isn’t exactly my idea of living life to the fullest.”

  “And Brown’s job? That didn’t suit you?” Thomas asks.

  Rain stares at me a moment longer, then clears his throat and looks at his father. “No.”

  “Well, you’d better find something you like,” Thomas says. “Time’s running out. The rest of the country’s graduates have already been assigned their careers. The other Patrician children have chosen theirs. What’s the hold-up, son?”

  “Ugh. Here we go again.” Rain rolls his eyes for the second time and stuffs another bite of steak into his mouth.

  “Can we drop the issue?” Forest cuts in. “This is hardly a discussion to have in front of our guest.”