Fox Forever (Jenna Fox Chronicles #3)

by Mary E. Pearson

  My hand tightens on his throat. He doesn’t struggle. I let go, pushing away from him, and walk to the other side of the room, trying to keep from putting my fist through the wall, trying to process what all this means. I know what it’s like to have other people playing with your life like you’re nothing more than a game piece.

  Xavier gets to his feet, rubbing his neck where I’d held it. “It’s not a stupid game,” he says. “It’s a desperate one. One I’ve been playing for years. One I’m tired of playing too. But one I have no choice but to keep playing until the rules of the game are changed.”

  He takes a step toward me. “We’re close, Locke. I can feel it. The climate’s right. Everything Carver told you is true. There are rumblings about reunification. We can only bring those rumblings to the next level with two things—serious money, and a serious leader.”

  “And Karden can give you both those things.”

  “The Resistance lost its heart after he disappeared, and the Secretary’s harsh crackdown afterward all but killed it.”

  I study him. He’s only a man, the one I saw a few nights ago, the one who held an infant on his shoulder, the man quick on his feet when Security arrived, the man dancing with his wife. Not a calculating member of the Resistance, only one man doing what he can. But is it enough? Can all this ever be enough? And at what cost? I remember what Jenna said about the world always changing. Just when we have one problem solved, a new one is created. Xavier is one of those problems. So am I.

  He sits down on the sofa. “I’m sorry we didn’t tell you. We were going to, but after our first interview with you, we saw how close you were to Miesha. We thought knowing Raine was her daughter might just complicate matters for you.”

  “And make me slip.”

  “Yes, and we can’t afford slips. It could cost people their lives. Since she was raised as the Secretary’s daughter, we don’t know a lot about Raine, but she does have a life and identity as a citizen. That means a whole different way of thinking. She has loyalties to that world now.”

  I nod, remembering how she defended the Secretary when we first met, maybe even showed some pride about his prominent position. And of course, she proclaimed her adoptive mother as the best mother in the world. Yes, she has some loyalties, but how strong, I don’t know.

  Xavier leans forward, tired lines creasing his eyes. “At the very least, if she were told the truth she might confront him and blow the whole thing.”

  Knowing Raine, I don’t have any doubt about that. She would more than confront him. She would be an out-of-control force of nature, likely to sweep us all away in the process. But she doesn’t live a life of privilege and leisure as Xavier implied. She’s more like a prisoner in a tower.

  Yes, knowing complicates everything.

  The Meeting

  The guard has rung the ninth floor. He whispers quietly through a privacy shield to someone on the other end. I examine a bowlful of green apples pretending I’m more interested in them than in what the guard is whispering. He eyes me suspiciously and nods, and then whispers again. A final affirmative dip of his chin and he signs off, turning his full attention back to me, suddenly all smiles.

  “You may go up, sir.” He points to a hallway behind him. “North lift.”

  I set the apple in my hand back in the bowl. The guard scrutinizes me as I step in the direction he pointed. I carefully control my movements and expressions. It feels like every single twitch is being watched, and not just by the guard. I saw the discreet surveillance eyes hovering near the crown molding the minute I entered the lobby, but I pretended not to notice. I need to look like a kid on his way to meet schoolmates and that’s all.

  The moment of truth has arrived at last.

  The elevator door is already open as I approach, making me uneasy, like I’m not just being watched. I’m being anticipated. I step inside but there are no buttons to push. The door closes and the elevator begins to rise. The surveillance eyes hover in the corners of the elevator as well. No wonder Raine never exits this way in the middle of the night. I want to wipe my palms on my pants but resist the urge. I don’t want to show nerves even though I have plenty right now. Everything has changed now that there’s actually someone up there on that top floor whom I care about—and someone Miesha cares about too. Bravado has taken a back seat to precision.

  The elevator stops but the door doesn’t open. I wait, and then look around wondering if there’s a bell I’m supposed to ring, like I’m standing on a stoop. I run my hands along the back wall and suddenly I hear the whoosh of the door. I spin around and am greeted by Dorian, the household manager.

  “Welcome, Locke. Is that right—Locke?”

  “Yes,” I say. “Locke Jenkins.”

  She leads me through a marble foyer into a large living room, very old-world style, with mahogany paneling, tapestries, and lots of lavish brocade furniture. Not at all what I expected.

  “You’re the first to arrive. Please make yourself comfortable. May I get you a refreshment?”

  “Just water would be great, thank you.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course.”

  I walk around the room when Dorian leaves, examining the decor. The first thing I notice is books. Lots of books. The old-fashioned leather-bound kind. Gatsbro kept his collection behind glass. The Secretary obviously flaunts his. Does he read them, or are they only for show? Something like Raine, the model daughter who jumps through all his hoops?

  “Welcome, Locke.”

  I spin around. It’s the Secretary. But I’m not supposed to know that, since we’ve never been introduced. I step forward and reach out to shake his hand. “Hello, sir. Are you Raine’s father? Mr. Branson?”

  “Yes, Secretary Branson. Nice to have you join the group.”

  “I understand you recommended me. Thank you.”

  “Shane LeGru can make poor choices but he’s a young man with potential. He comes from good lines. Possibly a good match for Raine—when the time comes. There are so few. And I was pleased to see your generous display with him. You might be a good influence on him and the others.” His brows rise. “Tell me, Locke. Will you be a good influence?”

  It’s more of a threat than a question. I swallow. I hate this guy already. I hate everything about him. His patronizing attitude. His disingenuous smile. His weak handshake. His condescending voice. His ego. He owns the world, or thinks he does. But mostly I hate that he stole away Raine and told her she was trash.

  I smile. I learned from the best, Dr. Gatsbro and Kara. I smile and I make it genuine, because I’m going to crush this guy. Crush him with everything I’ve got.

  “I hope I might be able to share a few things with the others, sir, but I’m sure I’ll learn far more from them.”

  “Good attitude, boy. Observe and learn. It’s gotten me far.” He glances at the time on an antique clock on the mantel and frowns—exactly seven o’clock—the appointed time of the meeting. I knew from the files that he was a stickler for punctuality and I made sure I wasn’t a minute late. “I apologize for Raine’s tardiness,” he says. “It’s unacceptable. She should be here to greet her guests. Hap tells me she’s having a clothing issue, which is still no excuse. I assure you it won’t happen again.”

  As we’re speaking, more guests arrive, Vina, Ian, Shane LeGru along with his father, whom I expected to come, and finally Cece. Introductions are made, and we make small talk as Dorian serves refreshments. The Secretary is clearly becoming more impatient with Raine’s absence. Just as he’s whispering something to Dorian, Raine rushes into the room, stopping conversation.

  “Sorry for being late.” She briefly glances at the Secretary but then avoids his gaze—for good reason. He’s not taking this well. I watch his hand tighten around the glass he’s holding, wondering if he’ll break it.

  Her hair is loose and pleasantly unkempt like she’s been out in a breeze. She wears a thin lavender-flowered shift that barely covers the top of her thighs. One sleeve dips off her shoulder
. Her lavender sandals are light-years from the sturdy black loafers she usually wears in public.

  She’s radiant. And now that I know who she really is, it’s as if I’m seeing her for the first time all over again. Rebecca, I want to say. Your real name is Rebecca. I stare at her lips, so much like Miesha’s. That means the rest is Karden. Every time the Secretary looks at her he must see Karden too. I wonder how that makes him feel? If Karden is alive, does he throw that up in his face? That he’s raising Karden’s daughter? What kind of torture has he put Karden through? Something much worse than my centuries of silence?

  “Pardon us, please,” he says and he grabs Raine by the elbow and briskly pulls her into the foyer. The others instantly resume conversation, almost on cue, like they know not to interfere with the Secretary and his daughter.

  I only have a side view of both of them, but I can still read every word.

  Would you mind explaining?

  I’m sorry, Father. I had my clothes laid out for the evening but—

  But what?

  I spilled tea all over them. And my others are—

  Then you’ll wear the wet ones. Go change. You look like a whore.

  But, Father—

  Are you speaking back to me?

  She lowers her eyes. No, sir.

  He yanks her back by her elbow as she turns to walk away. There will be consequences for this, Raine. And pull your hair back before I cut it off myself.

  I force my clenched fist to open and relax as he returns to the group and smiles. “The teen years. So trying. You understand, don’t you, LeGru?”

  LeGru’s lips pull back in a skeletal smile that makes my skin crawl and he agrees heartily with the Secretary. Big surprise.

  “Continue on,” the Secretary says to the rest of us. “Mr. LeGru and I have business to discuss in my study. Dorian will get you anything else you need and Raine will return shortly.”

  Everyone in the group responds with thank-yous and the groveling replies that the Secretary expects as the two of them walk away and disappear down a long hallway.

  I feel sick. I know why Raine did it. She did it for me. She didn’t want me to see her in the drab institutional getup that the Secretary insists she wear, especially now that I’ve seen the other side of her.

  “Excuse me,” I say to the others. “I need to use the facilities.”

  “I’ll show you where—”

  “I know where it is,” I say, cutting Shane off.

  I walk down a hallway I’ve memorized a dozen times over. So far, the layout is true to form. If I get “lost” it will be by design. I figure I can use the lost oaf premise at least once if I get caught.

  I know where I need to go. Downstairs. That’s where the Secretary and LeGru went. I might at least be able to pinpoint his office. But where I really want to go is straight to Raine. I know where her room is—at least I think I do—and I still ache remembering her stricken face as the Secretary pulled her away. I more than ache. I want to hold her and never let go.

  Fallen for her? I’m not sure what that even means. But I know something visceral vibrated through me when I could see but not touch her, an urgent need that rattled through whatever fabricated bones Gatsbro gave me when I wanted to run to her but couldn’t. But I look for the stairway that leads down, because now the Favor is just as important to Raine as it is to anyone, even if she doesn’t know it.

  The hallways are narrow and dark. One point two meters across, exactly as the plans indicated, but at my very first turn, another hallway exists where there was none on the plans. I stop and listen, straining to hear any sound, any voices that might lead me to the Secretary and LeGru. Now I have to rely on my instincts more than antiquated plans. As much as my BioPerfect can instill dread in me, wondering what sort of unpleasant surprises it may hold, I’m counting on it right now. I feel the rush in my head, the buzz, and then the silence as my hearing divides the static from the distinct—the distant sound of Vina’s laughter, the click of heels on the marble floor upstairs, and then the lowest of murmurs. Hushed voices that could be the Secretary and LeGru. I head down the unknown hallway, walking close to the wall to avoid creaks. The murmurs grow louder, and at the end of the hall a narrow shaft of yellow light streams through where a door has been left ajar. I edge closer trying to keep my breaths shallow, the sound of my heart pounding so loudly in my ears, I’m afraid they may hear it too. I take another step and the floor creaks. I freeze.

  Damn these old houses.

  I hold my breath listening for movement but I hear only the steady murmur of their voices. I say a prayer for the floor, the first prayer I’ve said outside of grace in years, and step closer. The floor cooperates and I ease myself into position until I can see through the eight-inch gap in the door. It’s a very large room and at the far end I see LeGru’s back. He faces the Secretary, who sits at a desk. LeGru paces like he’s agitated. I hear a few words but mostly they keep their voices so low, I can’t follow what they’re saying, and with LeGru’s pacing, I can’t read their lips either, but at least I know: This is the Secretary’s office. A critical piece of information for when I have the opportunity to return and look for information.

  I’m just about to ease away when I hear movement behind me. I spin. Raine has snuck up on me.

  “What are you doing?”

  I step closer to her, trying to keep my voice low. “I was looking for the restroom. I must have taken a wrong turn.”

  Suspicion flashes across her face. “Down here?”

  I shake my head and backtrack. “I was looking for you.”

  I hate lying to her but it works. She nods like she understands and holds her hand out to me. “Let’s go back up.”

  The office door swings open wide and light floods into the hallway. “What’s going on?” the Secretary asks.

  “Locke got lost,” Raine says. “He was looking for the restroom.”

  “Really?” LeGru steps past the Secretary. His beady eyes narrow, making him look even more ghoulish. “That’s quite a wrong turn you took, boy,” he says. “Upper floor. Perhaps you should ask directions in the future before you begin wandering.”

  “Of course, sir.” I make my apologies, mumbling about my bad sense of direction, and Raine and I depart down the hallway. I feel their steady stares drilling into my back. We turn a corner and I stop to look at Raine, her hair pulled back in a severe braid at the base of her neck, not a hair out of place. I reach up, gently stroking her cheek with my thumb, and only briefly brush my lips to hers, not knowing how long we have before LeGru or the Secretary might follow after us. “Are you okay?” I whisper.

  She clears her throat and swallows. “He embarrasses me terribly. I should be used to it by now.” Her lower lids brim with tears and she blinks, willing them away, a skill she has perfected. She shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. Let’s go back up.”

  I grab her arm as she pulls away, holding her so she has to return my gaze. There’s so much I want to say but can’t. She needs to escape and doesn’t even know why and I can’t tell her. That’s the worst part. All the lines of my goal—the Network’s goal—are blurring.

  She waits for me to say something and I force words out of my mouth that have nothing to do with my thoughts. “Your clothes aren’t wet,” I say. “We need to take care of that before he notices.”

  “He’s noticed. He notices everything.”

  Not everything. I’m still under the radar. At least for now. For the first time I’m grateful for all the possibilities of my BioPerfect and I’m going to mine them for all they’re worth. “I think I should still pour some water down the front of you when we get upstairs.”

  She manages a smile. “You would.” We start up the stairs and at the last step she stops me and kisses my neck, whispering in my ear, “Locke Jenkins, trust meter—a solid ten.”

  We join the others and the rest of the evening results in the forced socialization that the Collective requires. Shane LeGru is more than a boy
who makes poor choices. He’s a narcissistic bore. I also have to spend most of the evening trying to avoid Vina’s advances. I notice Raine’s expression darken every time Vina lays a hand on my shoulder, or my thigh, or my chest. She’s not shy about where her hands land. I finally wedge myself into a small armchair across from her, a safe distance from her reach, and Raine gives me a faint knowing grin. It’s more than just a new level on the trust meter between us. It’s something else. I’ve never met anyone like her. Her eyes turn to watch me again, like she knew I was thinking about her. She seems to read my mind. How long can I keep the truth from her?

  Ian Dvorak seems to be the most focused of the group, steering the conversation back to the project every time Shane steers it away, so concentrated he seems to be oblivious to Cece’s constant gaze on him. It’s an interesting ensemble. It might be an exclusive group, but aside from the virtual notes they talk into place on virtual screens, in many ways it’s not that different from the assigned study groups I had when I was in school—an awkward mix of personalities trying to make the best of a few hours of enforced confinement. Probably the only thing they all have in common is money and pedigrees. I guess my supposed father’s wealth is what opened the door for me.

  Since it’s the beginning of a new term, they must collectively agree on a community socialization project to engage in over the coming year. As a group their project will be researched, outlined, and then proposed to the Virtual Collective for approval. I try to follow and contribute to the conversation as they discuss possibilities but being the newcomer I can fake like I’m pondering it all, when what I’m really thinking is How soon can I get into the Secretary’s office and search it? How long do I have to keep up this charade for Raine? Forever?

  I stare at her, following the line of her profile, looking at the lips that eagerly kissed mine last night. She turns to look at me, again somehow sensing my eyes on her. My stomach twists. How can I feel this way about her? It’s the last thing I ever expected to happen, but then again, my whole life has been one unexpected turn after another. Now Raine has become one of them.