It was no use. Dejected, Amber descended the front steps. Her dream of a normal life now seemed more out of reach than ever
✽✽✽
The events earlier played out again in Amber’s mind while her fingers glided over the piano keys automatically. For a Wednesday evening, the bar was unusually full. The clock on her piano lid read exactly nine.
Only one more hour to go.
She spent most of her evenings at Indigo Tavern—the only place she knew where music was welcomed and not shunned, where people, though rarely sober enough to catch the nuances and intricacies of her performances, appreciated her talent and passion. Every so often, happy listeners would walk up to her, nod their heads and drop a few copper coins into the mason jar next to the clock.
In their digitized world, few found ways to earn a living in coins. The kind of money and people Amber dealt with on a daily basis existed only on the outskirts of society. Did the State know how the untagged managed to exist? Of course. But they did not think enough untagged people existed to pose any immediate danger. After all, those who stepped out of line usually disappeared quickly.
And so, Amber played on, night after night, collecting tips from generous listeners. Tonight was no different. Until a spikey-haired man walked over to the piano, whiskey in one hand and copper coins in the other. He leaned over just close enough for her to smell the alcohol on his breath and see the red in his eyes. Too close.
Customers like these were always looking for trouble and were best ignored. Shifting her gaze to her hands, she played on. The melody continued to flow, but it lost some of its lyricism.
With a drunken smile, the man staggered to the piano bench and sat beside her, leaning his body against hers. Amber scooted away in disgust, her fingers missing a few notes as she did so. Around a table not far away, a group of men laughed, pointing at their buddy who had just spilled whiskey all over the piano keys.
“Get away.” Amber stopped mid-phrase when the drunk man lay down on her lap. Alarmed, she pushed him off and leaped from the piano bench, her eyes searching for the bartender who also owned the place. He was nowhere to be seen.
On the bench, the drunkard grinned at her, dumping the copper coins over the piano lid. “Come play another song, beautiful.” He made to grab Amber’s hand but rolled off the bench instead. More laughter filled the bar. In one swift motion, he scrambled back to his feet, his previous grin gone.
Amber stepped back against the brick wall, adrenaline pumping through her veins. She tried her best to appear threatening. Like a cat assessing its prey, the man swayed from side to side, his bloodshot eyes fixed upon his target. Then he pounced. Strong arms closed around her body while a helpless scream escaped her throat. Though she fought against his hold, he easily picked her up from the ground and forced her onto the bench. The second he let go, Amber used the opportunity to punch him in the nose.
“Don’t touch me!” She glared at the man, who staggered back. After years of playing night gigs in bars, she learned how to deal with sticky situations like these. Quickly, she snatched the mason jar and circled around the piano to leave, but the drunkard latched on to her arm.
“Let her go!”
Out of nowhere, a young man with red hair came swinging at the drunkard. In an instant, the drunkard was on the floor, shriveling and moaning in pain.
“Serves you right,” the red-haired young man spat. “Are you alright?” He turned to Amber wearing a look of concern.
“I’m fine,” she said, though her heart still raced. “Thank you for stepping in.”
“Roy, what happened?” A round potato of a man wiggled past customers to get to the piano. Amber felt relieved to see Xavier, the bar owner.
He is a regular? She studied Roy’s kind, freckled face with intrigue. How come I have never seen him before?
“This one here”—Roy kicked the man on the floor—“was giving this young lady trouble.”
Xavier wiped his hands on his apron, breathing heavily.
“Thanks, Roy. Let me handle it from here.” With one hand, Xavier grabbed the drunkard by the collar and pulled him upright.
“Listen here, Stan.” He jammed a finger into Stan’s chest. “If you even think about putting a finger on that girl again, I will make sure you lick this bar floor clean. Now, get out of here and get sober.” He dragged Stan to the door and threw him out into the street.
Although a few of his friends rose from their seats in alarm, no one dared to speak in opposition. Xavier had his rules and never allowed anybody to break them.
“Why don’t you head home early today?” Xavier walked back to the piano while the customers stared.
“Thanks Xavier, but I need the money,” Amber muttered, wiping the whiskey off the keys with a rag.
A tap on the shoulder caused her to look up. “Is this enough for an hour?” Roy held out a fist full of copper coins.
Eyes wide, Amber froze, at a loss for words.
“Looks like you’ve had a pretty bad day.” A wide smile spread across his face as he dropped the coins into the mason jar, filling it to the brim. “Why don’t you call it a night?”
Xavier stepped forward, taking the rag from Amber’s hands. “Listen to Roy! Go on home! It’s getting late, anyway.”
“I-I...” Tightness welled in her throat.
“Come, I’ll give you a ride home.” Roy handed the mason jar to her. “You are untagged, right?”
The questions set off alarms in her head. A sudden suspicion crept over her. How did he know?
As if he read her mind, Roy explained, “Tagged people don’t play piano, especially in bars.”
Though his assessment was correct, Amber still felt uneasy. Years of living as an outcast in society taught her to withhold trust, even from those who appear innocuous.
Carefully, she took the copper coins and thanked him for the offer. “I’ll walk home,” she insisted. “Don’t want to trouble you more. You’ve been a big help already.”
Surprisingly, Roy nodded in understanding and backed away. “Then, be safe!” With a wave at Xavier, he pushed open the doors and left Indigo Tavern. A few seconds later, Amber saw a black glider zoom away through the dirty windows.
The chatter resumed. At the center of the bar, a hologram replay of the latest Sumrectian duel captured the attention of Xavier’s customers, who immediately forgot about what had just happened and instead began arguing about the match.
Amber said goodbye to Xavier and was about to walk out the door when one of the Sumrects in the hologram caught her eye. She had seen that same long hair on the steps of the HRC. Rina? Reyna? The exact name escaped her memory, but the face could not be mistaken. She rarely appeared on these Sumrectian duels, but when she did, she never failed to wow the audience with her astonishing abilities.
Gathered around the replay, the bar customers watched intently and hardly paid her any attention when she left. Only Xavier gave her a thumbs up. He had been extraordinarily good to her the past six months, from offering this opportunity to fending off customers like the one she met tonight. He always understood that this gig was only temporary.
“You are too good for bars, Amber,” he reminded her every chance he got. “If you were tagged, you would be so much better off.”
Under the yellow streetlight, Amber sighed. Life would have been so much easier had she been tagged as a child. The State would probably forbid her to play the piano, but they would have made sure she was placed in a job that maximized her potential.
Maximize your potential. She suddenly remembered the fire lit tunnel, the broken glass tubes and Ansel’s strange eyes when he healed her neck. Had he taken the chip? What was behind the building that the official did not want them to see? While her mind swam with unanswered questions, her feet carried her along the route she took almost every night. She was almost home when she heard the engine starting and stopping from a distance behind her.
All of a sudden, the street appeared more deserted than
usual, and the lights seemed dimmer than before.
A shudder ran down her spine.
I’m being followed.
The image of the drunken man flashed in her mind. Stan. He’s coming after me.
She glanced back. Sure enough, off in the distance, a black glider waited, its engine emitting a low rumble. She quickened her step, trying to think of the busiest roads in the nearest vicinity. Up ahead was the T-intersection. If she made a right, she would be within a block to home, but if she made a left, she could get onto a much busier road. She broke out into a run. Left it is.
The glider also picked up speed, the roar of its engine growing louder with each passing second.
“Help! Help!” Amber yelled at the top of her lungs when she neared the intersection, hoping someone would hear. Just a few more steps —
But she was not fast enough. At the last second, the glider accelerated and swung to block her on the left. Its door burst open. A figure leaped out, snatched her around the waist with unhuman strength and dragged her into the vehicle. At once, Amber recognized her kidnapper, but she barely had time to react before a rough hand covered her mouth, muting her scream.
✽✽✽
Regina paced the lobby from corner to corner, a complete nervous wreck. She had betrayed her betrothed, but she knew she did the right thing. Every time the ground shook beneath her feet, her stomach tightened with guilt. Because of her, his plan had failed. Yet again.
But he needed to understand the only reason she stepped in—the only reason she involved the State—was because she loved him. If something were to happen to him, she did not know what she would do.
After all, he was her surah, her perfect match.
He will be fine, she told herself. Nothing could hurt the most powerful Sumrect in a thousand years. That did not concern her at all.
Her main concern was whether he could ever trust her again after today.
The tremors subsided, and all was peaceful again inside the marble lobby. But within Regina, terror brewed. She planted the seed of betrayal, and she feared it found fertile soil.
The gilded back wall vanished. She held her breath as the group of suited men emerged from the tunnel. Most looked relieved, some even happy. At last, Ansel climbed out, smiling and chatting away with the leader.
He spotted her at once.
A minute later, he left the leader and began walking toward her, still wearing the same smile he had on when he first entered the lobby. The fog in his eyes had cleared away to reveal the blue she had come to love. Maybe he did not find out this time. Regina exhaled deeply, the knots in her stomach starting to loosen.
“You did it!” Regina beamed at her surah. He always found a way to win.
With a light chuckle, he squeezed her hands. “Was there any doubt?”
“No...” she replied quickly, her eyes searching his for any sign of unusualness.
He leaned forward as if going in for a kiss. Except his lips grazed her cheeks and traveled to her ear. “We need to talk. Later,” he whispered.
Those soft words thundered in her ears, shaking her to the core. Her worst nightmare had begun.
✽✽✽
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About the Author
Leigh G. Wynn is a fantasy writer based in Miami, FL. She has dreamed of publishing a novel since she was nine, and that dream finally came true with The Eye of Elektron. Before she became an author, Leigh obtained degrees from Harvard, Tufts and the New England Conservatory of Music in education, mathematics and violin performance, respectively. When she is not writing, she can be found playing the violin, teaching Calculus to high school students and chasing after her three cats: Joey, Chandler and Monica.
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The Eye of Elektron: A Clean Urban Fantasy (The Sumrectian Series Book 1) Page 32