“Dammit, Kylie!” Marc shouts. I’m grabbed by my middle and yanked away from Collins. I throw my head back, headbutting him. He drops me, and I twist around to shove him away from me.
I turn back to Collins. She’s gulping for breath, flipped onto her side. “Stop, Ky,” she says with a hoarse voice, extending her palm in my direction.
Back at her, I flip her onto her back and look her in the eyes. “Beg me to stop, Collins,” I order.
Marc pulls me back again. “Kylie, stop! There are other pressing matters we need to handle right now.”
“Killing you will have to wait.” I smack his hand away from my arm. “I’ve only got a small window before someone else falls through that hole.”
Marc jumps in front of me. Beyond him, Collins is on her hands and knees catching her breath, having a hard time recovering. I snatch my gun from my pocket and aim it at him. “I could shoot you right now, Marc. Right in the head. Sean won’t make it to you in time. You want to die for her?”
Marc snatches my gun from my hand, fast as a flash of light. “You won’t kill me, Kylie,” he says in an uninterested tone. “Your love for me runs too deep. You’re mad, and we all get it. But cut the shit for now. We don’t have time for this.”
Nodding, I look away from him before I twist my entire body back around to throw a TKO. Eyes rolling back in his head, Marc stumbles backward and topples to the ground.
I drag my gaze away from his fallen body back to Collins. She’s yet to stand. I aim my gun at her temple and place my finger to the trigger.
“Ky, wait!” Sean’s fallen through the hole.
I face him. “No,” I say, pulling the trigger.
Sean grunts, falling to the floor, hand clutched at his chest while the other catches his fall. I grumble, watching Collins shuffle from the floor after being pushed out of the way by Sean. In my periphery, I see Marc turning onto his side. I march over to him. “I accidentally shot your brother. If you want him to live, I suggest you get it together and save him,” I say impassively.
He props his foot up, attempting to rise, and I kick him in the chest and force him back to the ground. Like I said, I will not be the only one without a twin. Marc hits the floor. I pass him, and he snags my ankles and yanks my legs from under me. I slap the ground and land on my wrist, groaning against the pain that can only be a sprain. He climbs onto my back and pins me to the ground, a hand pressed down on my head.
Marc takes a fist full of my hair and slams my head against the ground. He grunts, shoving me down as he gets up.
My sight blurs and fades in and out of focus. I squeeze my eyes shut, dazed from the impact worsening my already throbbing head. I push myself up on my arms and collapse, lightheaded.
I clear my throat and shake the dizziness away. When I part my lids, I can see clearly.
Marc’s made it to Sean. He’s healed. The others fall through the hole.
I stand, taking the back of my head in my hand, as they rise and look over the scene.
Seits rushes over to me saying, “We are in Highrum, not Arizona.”
I take a moment to survey my surroundings. The ballroom where we celebrated the Premier’s birthday. The golden floor where the attendees danced. Golden columns in all four corners accented by black flowers. Tables, chairs, and the band is missing, but it’s the same place with wall-length windows and gold drapes. “Why’d she send us here?”
“To discuss the reasons for abolishing Creations,” Seits says. “After you were through the hole Noranti said the Guidance needed to be notified about their change in plans.”
I scoff, testing the heat of the gun’s barrel before I stuff it in my front pocket. They never returned my holsters. “Change in plans…”
Seits flicks her gaze to her left and rubs her index finger down the bridge of her nose. “We’ll have to find out what’s going on.”
Jord steps to Seits’s side and says, “We will locate the leaders of the Guidance. We need to warn them and let them know what we found out and accomplished during our mission.” His voice booms through the ballroom. “Kylie,” he says, with a heavy base of authority, “stand down.”
I stiffen at the demand, and anger pumps through my veins. “Stand down?” I thrust my arms out at my sides. “Why should I?”
His boots snap together, and he faces me, arms drawn behind his back. In his stance, his frame towers over me, and his narrow-eyed bore rebuts my questioning. “Captain, you are too angry and unfocused. Your blindness is putting us at risk. Find a hotel room and stand down until someone comes to get you. Respond.”
I grind my teeth, and the words cut from me. “I understand.” My gaze stays locked on his until he turns away. I turn on my heels and march out of the ballroom.
“Follow her,” he tells someone. “Make sure she makes it in and keep her there.”
Chapter Nine
*Marc*
As ordered, I follow Ky to the lobby of the building we landed in. I keep my distance. The hostility in each of her steps speaks loudly for her anger. I hate fighting with her, raising my hand to her sticks a nail in my side. I should’ve retaliated for her shooting Sean and me, but I understand she thinks I’ve deceived her.
The feeling, at first, was mutual. Kylie and I have broken plenty of rules without looking back or caring for consequences. I’ve proved to her again and again there are no options for me. When I should’ve been looking out for Sean, I saved her. And for her to tell me no matter what she’d choose Luke was discouraging. She, in that moment, deceived me.
But I had to respect it. He’s supposed to come first to her. I just didn’t want to be in this alone.
Bystanders either narrow their eyes and glare or wave and smile at Kylie as she passes. Many Normals hate us for what we stand for, but appreciate there’s someone to make the sacrifices they don’t have to. They want the bloodshed, but not the crimson stains. Especially those here in Highrum.
Highrum citizens have it far too easy. The Creations here also have it better than we do, living in buildings with gold-plated ceilings and floors with the courtesy of maids and chauffeurs. They get their asses wiped and mouths dabbed all because they were lucky enough to be born with privilege. States are being burned to the ground and attacked every other day; farmers are having a hard time growing our crops due to water shortages, and Creations built for war are out there giving up their lives to battle Zombies and aliens. And here they are trotting through the lobby of their high-rated Inn as though none of this shit is going on in the America.
“Hi there,” says a woman who passes, bone-straight, silver hair draping down to her knees. I give her a nod. Her shoes give her an extra eight inches of height, and the painted-on animal print dress likely cost more than all the credits in my reserve.
After Sean and I moved to Arizona’s Creation bank, they swore our mother would be moved to Highrum. A place of absolute worry-free perfection, unlike Chicago, where Waulers lurk around every corner a Creation doesn’t guard and will slit the throat of anyone who passes their block.
Our mother was never moved, even after the Trade swore to watch over her. As long as Sean and I were around, we kept her protected from being hunted down. There’s no telling what’s happened to her now. And it’s not customary to ask.
Other than our twin, in the eyes of the government, our parents are the only ones we can care for without penalty, at least until we are shipped off. Last I heard, she was still in Chicago, battling to be moved to a safer place. The Trade owes it to her.
When we visited for Creation support against the Zombies, a friend of mine said they saw her get thrown into a shuttle to possibly be shipped to a halfway home. But no one has heard anything since. Sean thinks she was turned into a Zombie. And maybe he’s right. After we’re shipped to Separation, we’re supposed to forget about them anyway. But Sean and I can’t.
In a corner of the lobby, I lean against a solid gold column and remove my mask to take a deep breath. Highrum’s oxygen is dus
t- and pollution-free, making it the purest air. I take in a lungful and slowly release it, watching Kylie approach the lobby desk.
A slender woman with straight, corn-colored hair steps to the counter and greets Kylie with a smile. The light over her head shines off her gold teeth. They speak briefly before Kylie is passed a key. Behind Ky, a scrawny, blond boy with a crooked grin taps her shoulder. The sleeves of his white shirt hang past his hands, and his pant legs drag the floor. Kylie turns around, and he throws his arms around her.
I lean away from the column and straighten my stance. What is this?
Timidly, Kylie curls an arm around his shoulder and pats his back twice. She quickly retracts, and her arm falls to her side.
Ky’s back is to me, making it hard to see her response to his high brows, eye-squinting smile, and eager dance-like twisting of his upper body.
He points over his shoulder, and she nods. They walk in the opposite direction of me, heading through an opening that leads to the elevators. I hasten behind them, far enough to not disturb them, but close enough she knows I’m here. They wait for an elevator.
The closeness of this maggot’s proximity to Kylie is infuriating. He brushes her hand with the back of his, nudges her shoulder, and smiles far too much. There’s nothing on this earth that should make him this happy.
I drag my hand across my chin, looking over the two again. There actually is one thing on this earth that would make him this thrilled.
My flaws are selfishness and jealousy. I hate for someone to experience the pleasures I’ve encountered, to know my joy, because they’re so small in number. I want them all to myself. Being a twin with a greedy brother like Sean, who has to do everything I do, makes that hard, and for him I let it go. But everyone else can back off my shit. Especially this guy.
I step closer to them. The scrawny boy is saying, “You should consider living here with me. We could go to a lot of celebrations together as dates instead of escorts.”
The elevator chimes, and the doors slide open. I follow them in. Ky is yet to respond to his offer. She stares at me as I look him over.
“Hi,” he says, rocking back and forth on his heels. “I’m Carden, leader in place for the Guidance.” His smile stretches across his face.
Acknowledging him with a slight nod, I turn my attention back to Kylie. “What floor?”
The elevator doors are closing, and we’ve yet to select a number.
Kylie continues to stare at me silently.
“What floor?” I repeat in a firmer tone. Doing so causes my throat to scratch though I don’t clear it. Clearing it hurts worse than speaking.
The elevator doors open again, and Kylie exits. I grab her arm and gently pull her back.
She snatches her arm from my grasp and barges out of the elevator, Carden right behind her.
I grit my teeth and remind myself to not be aggressive. She’s angry, and I don’t want to make it worse. I follow them back into the hall. Cat and mouse she wants, cat and mouse she’ll get. The doors close behind me, and I wait.
“You don’t have to follow me, Marc,” she states, stopping in her tracks with her back to me. At some point between our arrival and her charge for the lobby, she’s pulled the tie from her hair and let her light brown hair flow down her back. The reflecting shine from the gold elevators complements it with beams of light that are slightly distracting.
She faces me.
I’m briefly distracted by the blue in her eyes, the pink of her lips, and her flawless neck, growing jealous of every strand of her hair that brushes against her skin. Straightening my stance, I meet her eyes. “It was an order, Kylie,” I drag out the words, bored with this cat and mouse game already. To follow her was my exact order.
Carden, still facing the opposite direction, looks over his shoulder. “Is everything okay, Marc the Creation?” he asks cheerfully.
“This is a Creation dispute. You should take a walk while Kylie speaks with me.”
He looks me square in the eyes as he asks Kylie, “Kylie the Creation, is this okay with you?”
Kylie grabs the shoulder straps of her vest, turns to Carden, and says, “You’ve taught me that we determine what’s best for ourselves. You do what you think is best.”
I scoff, shaking my head. She’s putting the ball in his court because she can’t yet reject me. She’s going to keep herself at a distance, like I’ve done to her. I nod, accepting her challenge.
Carden shrugs once and smiles at me. “Then I’ll stay.”
I pull my shotgun from my back and hold it in front of me. My nostrils flare as I strike him with a deadpan stare. “Take. A. Walk,” I order. “Now.”
Stroking the back of his neck, Carden nods and heads off down the hall to our left.
I punch the elevator button again, and the doors chime as they open. I throw my thumb toward the entry, turning my attention to Kylie.
Déjà vu… She steps in, keeping her eyes pinned forward. “You’re just begging me to kill you, you know? Is that what it is?”
I follow her in and point to the numbered board on the wall.
“Four,” she says, looking up at the ceiling. The elevator’s number board brings the number four forward in a golden glow, and the doors close.
The box climbs the floors smoothly without the recognizable feeling of ascension. The doors part, and Kylie exits, entering a cream-colored hall.
I stuff my shotgun into my back scabbard and take in the break from the abundance of gold. I blow a breath past my lips as the relief kicks in.
Kylie heads down the hall and stops at room 434. I stop her from swiping her key. “Hand over your gun and any other weapons.”
“No. You give me your guns and keep watch on me from the outside.”
“How do I know you won’t sneak out?”
“From the fourth floor, Marc?” she mocks. “Here.” She pulls her gun from her pocket and rams it against my chest. “Have it. Just stay out here.”
I catch it in my hand as it falls, saying, “I don’t want you, Ky.” She gives me an insulted leer, and I correct myself. “Of course, I want you, but not in the way you may think. I don’t need to come into your room, and I’m fine with standing outside your door. We just need to talk.”
She opens the door, steps in, and as I take a step forward, she closes the door in my face.
I chuckle to myself, rubbing my hand over my chin.
I won’t force her. She’ll come around.
Our complex relationship is one that’s as new for me as it is for her. It’s banned, but I don’t care about that. I’ve never cared about it. Creations with the type of feelings Kylie and I have for each other, it’s said we’d be reprogrammed should the Guidance find out about such emotions.
I was trained early on to stuff down my emotions and fight feelings that would give Sean and I away. And I tried. I seriously tried to fight my feelings for Kylie, but it was the hardest thing I’d ever done. Forever, affection and intimate thoughts had laid dormant as they were supposed to. Then she revealed hers to me, and it was like her exposure was contagious, and my own had awakened. The next minute, I was saving Kylie from a Zombie before I even thought to look out for Sean.
I sit against the wall beside the room’s door, rubbing my hand over my empty stomach. Kylie seems quiet. I press my ear to the door and hear her rummaging around. There’s a heavy thud, I assume from her plopping down on the floor, as she’s likely avoiding the bed. Fearing sleep.
I groan, tugging off my helmet to rest my head against the wall. My damp hair brushes my cheeks. I don’t bother to tie it back. Finally relaxing my muscles draws my attention to the ache rising within them.
There’s another thud that comes from the other side of the door. No other sound follows. I knock my elbow against the door twice. “Kylie?” I call. “Let me in.”
A glass smashes against the door.
I shake my head. That’s just childish. What’d the door do to her? And they’re going to charge her for
breaking their shit.
“Come on, Kylie. You can’t ignore me forever?” Silence. “At least let me in so I can help.” There’s no way I would turn on Ky. I wouldn’t have even put her behind those bars, but there was just so much going on the days leading up to our invasion, and Sean’s life was on the line. I let him down once, and I wasn’t—I’m not—going to do it again.
“Just shut up, Marc!”
I’m tired. I don’t want to give up, but I don’t know what else to say. I’ve also had this suit on for days, and I need a shower asap.
A housekeeper shoving a cart down the hall stares at me as she approaches the room across the hall.
“Hello,” I say.
Propping her hand on her hip, she cocks an eyebrow. “Why are you sitting on the floor, Creation?”
I shift uneasily and flick my gaze away from her. She’s right to show concern. A Creation seemingly on duty sitting around is not a frequent sight in Highrum. However, my business is not hers. “Do you have a pen and paper?”
She rambles around in her pockets. “I do,” she says, grabbing a notepad from her buggy and a pen from her apron. She hands them to me.
“I need you to do me a favor.” I scratch items on the paper: t-shirt, jeans, panties, bra, and socks for Ky, and a sweatshirt hoodie, jeans, boxers, and socks for me. I tap the pen against my forehead, knowing I’m forgetting something. Meeting the patient eyes of the housekeeper, it hits me. I finish the list, add my Creation credit number with a brief explanation of why I’m not in attendance, and hand the pad and pen back to her. “Mind getting these items for me?”
She glances over the note. “Now?”
“Yes. Quickly. Please.” I pull up my right sleeve. “If you have a scanner, I can compensate you for the inconvenience.”
“No. No,” she says waving her hand. “It’s my pleasure.” She scurries down the hall to the stairwell. I wanted her to hurry, but she could’ve taken the elevator.
I disassemble and reassemble my weapons, aggravated by the glittering residue of the fallen Vojin we took out. I drag my scarf over the metal, and the shit won’t scrape off. I’ll probably need a toothbrush and alcohol. Giving up, I put them away and slump against the wall.
Ominous Order Page 6