by Dima Zales
“Seriously?” Kara asked.
“Yep. Keep your heads down.”
Zion grimaced. “Thanks.”
At that point, Koji looked at me over Zion’s shoulder, so she turned and introduced me. I put my hand out to shake and blushed all over again when he swept it up dramatically and kissed it, then winked at me.
A doorman let us in. Zion and Kara seemed to know him, too, but didn’t stop to chat. He took us into an elevator, using a special key to send it to a top floor.
After he stepped out, the doors closed and the elevator began to rise sluggishly. To pass the time, I asked if Koji and the doorman were Nolanders.
“Yeah,” Zion said. “Couldn’t you feel it when you touched Koji’s hand?”
I shook my head.
“That’s … strange,” Zion said, looking appalled.
“She also can’t see workings,” Kara said. “Halfings, yeah, but not the full ones. Weird, huh?”
“Yeah,” Zion said. “I’ve never heard of that happening.”
She looked me over, eyebrows knit. I felt like someone with a rare disease surrounded by astonished medical students.
“Graham didn’t even try to do something about it — just tested her for gifts. As if she’d get a gift before seeing workings. Can you believe that?”
“I don’t think he knew —”
Zion cut me off. “Sure I can believe it. He didn’t want her looking into that strait you had sitting open up there, right? You can’t see workings, you can’t see a strait — simple as that.”
Kara looked stunned. Then her surprise turned to anger.
“That bastard! He really was trying to get us killed.”
“What does seeing workings have to do with knowing someone’s a Nolander?” I said, feeling uncomfortable and hoping to get them off the subject of Graham.
Still steaming, Kara explained that normally you can get a general feel for someone else’s capacity to work essence by touching them. “It’s like your power senses their power. You can definitely tell if they’re able to work essence or not. Often you can tell how strong they are, especially if they’re weaker than you. That’s why you won’t see Seconds touching each other very often — not skin to skin.”
“I guess that’s another way my development’s screwed up.”
“I’m sure it’ll be okay,” Kara said.
“Do you think I’ll get a replacement trainer?”
Zion cleared her throat. “I heard Lord Cordus wants to teach you himself.”
Kara shot me a glance that was pure horror, then quickly looked away.
“As for telling who’s a Nolander,” Zion said, filling the uncomfortable silence, “just look for black clothes. Seconds generally don’t like wearing black, so that’s what we wear at events where we’ll be mixing with them. Those of us with significant strength wear a little silver or white, like my barrette or the trim on Kara’s dress, but that’s it.”
Koji and the doorman had both been wearing all black. I looked down at the beautiful beaded top of my dress. Not only were the straps whitish, but the top four or so inches of the dress were too.
“Yeah,” Kara said, following my gaze. “That’s a lot of white.”
“Am I going to get in trouble?” I would’ve thought Cordus’s staff knew the rules.
Zion shook her head. “If that’s what Lord Cordus’s staff put on you, that’s what he wants you to wear.” She paused. “It just means you’re very strong — the more white, the more power. He’s decided to advertise your potential.”
“I wonder how much white he’d put on Callie. If he ever got her down here, I mean,” Kara mused, looking at my dress.
Before I could think of anything else to say, the doors hissed open. The elevator, along with several others, emptied onto a marble hallway. There were attendants waiting at one end to take our coats. They both looked like tough customers, so maybe they were guards as well as coat-checkers.
After handing off my fur, I followed Zion through a short hallway into a large room, with Kara trailing behind.
I’d been vaguely imagining some medieval scene — everyone standing around watching Cordus sitting on a dais at the end of some ornately decorated hall. Maybe he’d even be on a throne, like a king.
What I’d walked into looked more like a hoity-toity cocktail party. We were in what seemed to be a very large living room. It stretched dozens of feet to both the right and left. The floor was carpeted, and people were standing around in clusters, chatting and drinking. Some were seated at various furniture groupings. Some stood alone or with just one other, near the walls. A few were standing at the floor-to-ceiling windows, taking in the cityscape. I couldn’t see much, with all the people in the way, but it seemed we were up pretty high.
The good news was that no one paid us the slightest attention when we came in. The bad news was that the room was full of Seconds. Most had a human shape, but some were bizarre, and a few were terrifying.
I saw a green man standing off to the right. The fact that it was holding a glass of wine and chatting cordially with someone made it all the more disturbing. Something in the room’s lighting made its skin fluoresce green all over, as though it were made of foil. Or maybe it could control the effect and was showing off.
I saw a snowman that reminded me, with a sharp twinge, of Bob. The snowman was speaking to something that looked like a miniature elephant.
Across the room, a towering, pale pink, batlike creature hulked near the windows. I could see its grossly long folded arms, pouchy with membranous wings, jutting up above the heads of those standing nearby. I was staring at it, so of course it looked my way. Incongruously, it had the face of a jowly old man, complete with rheumy eyes and a thin, gray comb-over. I quickly looked away.
“Big crowd,” Kara said softly at my shoulder.
I nodded. Zion moved away, into the press, but I stood there frozen.
Even the human-shaped Seconds were clearly other to my eyes. As with Cordus’s impossible beauty, there was something about each of them that was off. The more I looked at them, the more disturbing they became. They were the non-human stuffed into almost-human packaging. It was eerie, wrong. The idea of walking among them was frightening.
Kara moved forward and took my arm. Again, I could feel her shaking.
“Come on, let’s get a drink,” she said.
We threaded our way through the crowd to a small bar set up in one corner. Kara introduced me to the barkeep, a pleasant-looking middle-aged white guy dressed all in black. His name was Hank. He too gave me an admiring once-over. My feeling of being on display intensified.
Glasses of white wine in hand, we moved to the windows. The view was stunning. Directly ahead, we looked down on several smaller skyscrapers, then a mixture of tall buildings and smaller ones. Looking slightly left, far taller buildings marched away for blocks and blocks, including some that looked familiar, even to a girl from small-town Wisconsin.
“That’s the Empire State Building,” Kara said helpfully.
I could see the top of it clearly, bathed in white light. We stood for a few minutes in silence. Kara kept bringing her glass to her lips, then lowering it. I imagined she really wanted to down it, but kept reminding herself it wouldn’t be a good idea. That was certainly what I was thinking.
The reflection of movement behind us caught my eye. I looked back to see the snowman I’d noticed earlier looming over us.
“You are Elizabeth Ryder, are you not?” it rumbled.
“Yes,” I answered, bowing my head in a way I hoped looked respectful. I felt Kara draw closer behind me.
The snowman observed me quietly for several seconds. It made me uncomfortable, but at least there was nothing overtly sexual in its perusal.
“I have heard that you brought death to one of my people,” it said at last.
I looked up at its face. Its expression was not as neutral as its voice had been. Despite the inhumanity of its features, I could see sadness th
ere.
I teared up. I couldn’t help it.
“I guess I did,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Will you offer no reason?”
I explained about the photograph I’d taken of Bob’s foot and how it’d been passed around in Pete’s Eats.
The creature sighed. “A more absurd cause of death can hardly be imagined. Who ordered the execution, and who carried it out?”
“With all due respect, Lady Ambassador,” Kara said from behind me, “that’s something you should probably take up with Lord Cordus.”
The snowman’s eyes flicked briefly over my shoulder at her, then focused on me again.
“I certainly shall. But for now I am asking Miss Ryder.”
I took a deep breath. “All I’ve heard is hearsay. I won’t pass that along as though it were fact. I’m sorry.”
Kara stopped breathing. I felt her take hold of my elbow.
“Perhaps this is an issue we should discuss privately, Lady Ambassador,” a super-sexy voice said from behind the snowman.
The creature stepped aside with surprising grace, revealing Cordus.
“Gnaeus Cornelius Marci Filius Cordus,” it said, and bowed. “I will look forward to discussing the fate of my kinsman, at your convenience.”
It nodded at Kara and me, inclined its head to Cordus, and moved away.
Cordus turned toward us.
“Elizabeth Joy Ryder, you look quite lovely,” he said, looking me slowly up and down.
You’d think I’d have been used to it by that point, but I blushed hotly. His eyes dwelt on my face and neck, perhaps enjoying my evident embarrassment. Usually I looked down when I blushed, since it made me so self-conscious, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I just stared back.
Finally, his gaze shifted over my shoulder.
“Kara Dolores Sanchez,” he said in a different voice, one that tugged at my insides even though it wasn’t directed at me.
Kara gasped, and her hand tightened painfully on my arm. I felt her press her face against my bare shoulder. Cordus let the moment hang. He seemed to be enjoying it.
Then he smiled slightly and said, “I would speak with Miss Ryder alone.”
Cut free, Kara wrenched herself away from me and stumbled off into the crowd.
Cordus watched her go, then turned back to me. He was wearing a slim-cut white shirt and dark pants. I absolutely was not going to look down to get more specific than that on the color. My heart was still racing from catching the edge of what he’d directed at Kara.
“You handled your interaction with the Lady Ambassador reasonably well, Miss Ryder. However, the death of the ice man in Wisconsin is not your responsibility. You had no cause to apologize.”
Burgundy. His pants were burgundy.
Oh my god, what is wrong with me?
“On the next such occasion, it would be best simply to refer the matter to me, as Miss Sanchez attempted.”
Huh. It would’ve been nice if he’d complimented Kara, rather than tormenting her and then praising her once she was gone.
“Come,” he said, holding out his arm.
I really didn’t want to touch him, but there wasn’t much choice. I settled my hand on his forearm — which was covered by his shirtsleeve, thank god — and followed along as he led me through the crowd.
Over the next two hours, he stopped and spoke to at least twenty guests. He greeted each one formally, but the long names quickly blended together in my mind. Not a single one of them addressed me, but most seemed to notice me. Several gave my dress a pointed look. A few others revealed displeasure before schooling their features.
They all made me nervous, but the last — a tiny, caramel-complexioned woman with curly black hair and pretty, delicate features — was the only one who really scared me. She was wearing a pair of loose blood-red pants and a matching sleeveless top. The female Seconds seemed to prefer gowns, so her look stood out. They also seemed to like height, but this one was making no effort to look taller than her five-foot-nothing: she was wearing red beaded flats.
She studied me very directly as Cordus greeted her, which the others hadn’t done. Finally she turned to him and nodded, greeting him by name.
Then, apropos of nothing, she said, “I will give you Florida for this one.”
I was shocked, then flooded with horror. I didn’t want to go with that woman, whoever she was. I glanced at Cordus and saw that he was quite surprised himself. He’d actually arched an eyebrow.
A pained silence ensued. Was he considering it? Surely it was a good deal — I couldn’t really be worth a whole state.
Finally he said, “Thank you for so handsome an offer, my Lady, but I must decline.”
Then he stood there chatting with the woman. She wasn’t much of a small-talker, so the conversation was a bit stilted. Maybe she just had trouble keeping up her end because she was so busy staring at me like I was a prize steer.
Cordus finally moved on from the tiny woman. Instead of greeting another guest, he steered me to a dark corner, where a large someone in all black was standing. It was Williams. Great.
“Miss Ryder needs to rest,” Cordus said to him. “Keep her company.”
Cordus smiled briefly at me — Good girl, I imagined him saying — and moved back off into the crowd. I was left standing there awkwardly.
Well, whatever. At least Williams was human. Sort of.
“Do you know who that small black-haired woman is?” I asked him.
“Lady Innin.”
Shit. The one Koji had mentioned.
“Is she someone important?”
“A great power. Controls the Caribbean and the Gulf — Florida, eastern Mexico, Central America, northern South America.”
Wow. I wondered if she was stronger than Cordus. I felt chilled.
“She just offered to trade Florida for me.”
Williams turned and looked at me. Perhaps I’d actually surprised him. Or maybe not. After a few seconds, he shrugged and said, “Florida’s gonna be underwater in fifty years, anyway.”
No doubt he was trying to be an asshole, but it struck me as funny. Or maybe laughter was just my response to stress. Whatever the reason, I had to clap my hands over my mouth and turn to the wall until I got a handle on myself.
Not much happened for the remainder of the evening. Kara found her way back to me, and we hung out quietly near Williams. Gwen and Zion both drifted by, drinks in hand. Just to be sure, I asked Kara if Graham were there.
“Are you kidding? That sonovabitch is in a world of hurt. No way is Lord Cordus letting him out to play.”
I saw the memory of our elevator conversation flit across her face.
She frowned. “Ratfink bastard.”
I stifled the impulse to defend him. What did I know? Maybe he’d been negligent not to realize I didn’t start seeing full workings along with halfings.
After another hour or so, guests began to leave. Eventually, only Cordus and his people were left. Cordus headed into his study to make some calls, and the rest of us hung out in the living room while our cars were brought around.
I got to put names to some new faces. In addition to Hank, there were two other bartenders, Hortensia and Bud. Kristin, James, and Rafiki had been circulating with drinks and hors d’oeuvre. Mary and Valerie had been working in the kitchen. The bruisers taking coats were Andy and Theo.
Looking around at everyone, I started to get a sense of how things worked. Nolanders with less strength or power, or whatever you called it, did lower-status jobs: the waiters, caterers, and bartenders were all wearing all black. Koji and the doorman, who was named Grant, had been too. I’d bet Cordus’s estate staff were in the same category.
In contrast, Kara, Zion, Gwen, and I, who were all wearing some white, had been circulating freely among the guests. Andy and Theo, the coat-checkers-slash-guards, were also wearing white — folded pocket handkerchiefs and silver cufflinks. Maybe we were the security detail, or maybe we were just assets to sho
w off.
Though everyone seemed cordial enough, I noticed that people tended to group according to clothing color. Maybe the members of each group worked with one another more often and had gotten to know each other better.
As the rest of us talked, Williams leaned against the far wall, looking down. He seemed to be profoundly antisocial.
I realized as I watched him that he was an exception to the color-coding — he’d been circulating, and Kara had implied he had a lot of strength, but his clothes were all black.
Grant called up to let us know the Porsche was ready, so Zion, Kara, and I got in the elevator. It went down a lot faster than it had gone up.
When we saw the car, it appeared to have a big scrape along the driver’s side. It turned out to be masking tape — Koji had put it there to see Zion’s reaction. Everyone had a good laugh except Zion, who cuffed Koji on the shoulder. Not hard, though. I could tell she was only pretending to be mad.
As we crossed the bridge out of the city, I asked Kara and Zion whether they ever hung out with any of the dressed-all-in-black people.
“I’d sure like to hang out more with Koji — he’s hot,” Kara said. “But I guess it can get a little weird with them sometimes. They’re all pretty nice, though,” she added.
“How about you, Zion?”
“I don’t ‘hang out’ with any of you people. We’re coworkers, not friends.”
“Fuck you,” Kara said. “That’s stupid. There’s no one else for us to be friends with.”
Zion shrugged. Kara chewed her out a little more, then lapsed into resentful silence. After a minute or two, she said something else pissy.
Zion lost her temper. “You know what, Kara? You need to grow the hell up.”
“What does that mean? You think you’re too good for everyone else?”
“What do you think this is, high school? Like we’re in different cliques or something? You people are blind.”
I was more curious than offended.
“Blind? What do you mean?”
Zion rolled her eyes. “Lord Cordus gives some of us higher status and makes us advertise it to the others. That breaks us into groups that resent each other — we resent the weaklings for not doing the dangerous work, and they resent us because they’re menial labor and get paid a lot less. So now there’re factions instead of unity. That makes us all easier to control. See?”