by Red Harvey
“Are you all right?”
He laid a hand to her sweaty forehead, which she knocked away.
The dream lingered on, and she felt stuck inside of the memory. Ada took a deep breath.
“I’m fine,” she said. “Did you slap me?”
Kressick nodded.
Drum beats sounded in her head, and she struggled to stay awake. Kressick’s slap hadn’t hurt that bad, and why was it necessary in the first place?
“What happened?”
A squint and a head scratch later Kressick answered her. “You fainted.”
“I never faint.”
He tsked. “You thought you would never mortally wound anyone and look at how that turned out.”
She imagined him writhing on the floor as she fried his organs.
Darcy and Phennell stood together in an opposite corner of the room, whispering to one another. Moretz walked over to them, and their whispers ceased.
“Don’t worry. They didn’t hear me,” Kressick assured her.
From the way her sister and faux brother ignored her, he was right. His witticism pulled a half-smile, half grimace from Ada.
“What kind of grandfather are you?”
“The kind who occasionally stalks his grandchildren.”
“That’s not funny,” she said, even as she flashed another half-grimace smile.
“Never claimed to be.”
He left her to join the Moretz clan in the corner without really clarifying himself or any of his quips.
She thought she caught the gist of his meaning anyway.
~ * ~
Dinner at the Moretz residence was as awkward as it had been on the first serving. No, Ada thought the experience worse the second time. Chancelin didn’t show, and Moretz claimed she had a migraine to sleep off. The glare Darcy blasted at Ada said, you’re the source of the migraine, stupid.
Her non-brother Phennell was far kinder than Darcy and more welcoming than Chancelin’s empty chair. Throughout the meal of venison and vegetables, he asked Ada questions, acting as if he was really interested in her answers. Some of the questions he already asked during their lunch meetings. He either had a terrible memory or he wanted everyone to know what he knew.
A lock un-clicked for her ever since Kressick revealed her and Phennell didn’t share biological ties. He must have known the truth before she did, having grown up with his real father years back. The way he stared at Ada...definitely not brotherly.
Romantic entanglements were low on her list. She refused to allow anything to hinder the end goal, a reminder she pinched herself with after each smile or wink Phennell gave her.
After the meal was over, Ada and Kressick rose to leave. Moretz made them promise to return in a week’s time for another family dinner. On the words “family dinner”, she turned away to roll her eyes. Kressick promised they would be back. Speaking for them both helped, because if she had been forced to give an answer, it wouldn’t have been benign. She never wanted to return to the Congressman’s house again.
Moretz instructed Darcy to see the guests to the sub-garage. It crossed Ada’s mind to wonder why the Moretz family didn’t have servants. No servants served dinner, even if composite venison and vegetables took mere moments to prepare. During the first dinner, no servants had been around either. Chancelin had gone back and forth from the kitchen with each course.
The large property appeared well-maintained. Though Chancelin seemed a capable woman and unemployed, Ada doubted she did all the housework. She put her query to Darcy as they walked down to the sub-garage with Kressick strolling behind.
“Daddy likes his privacy,” Darcy said. “Three times a week, a housekeeper comes by for a couple of hours.”
Likes his privacy. I bet he does.
He probably wanted to limit the number of people exposed to his ability. Ada could relate. She listened to Darcy while the young girl continued with chit-chat about their different housekeepers and how Phennell harassed them all. Ada wasn’t really listening. Her mind whirled. Did Darcy know about her father? Did the whole family know? They must.
Before long, they were in the sub-garage and walking past Moretz’s showcase of glittering vehicles. There were six different cars, none of them electric, all of them expensive, and as there were only four eligible drivers, Ada couldn’t imagine who the other two were for. At any point in her life, there was never more than one car per household.
Destroying them could be fun. As they passed each vehicle, she brought them roaring to life. The headlights shone as bright as searchlights.
Darcy covered her eyes.
“What the hell?” she yelled to be heard over the gunning of six car engines.
Kressick give Ada a nudge, but she wasn’t done. Only when the engines burned out seconds later did she relinquish her control. The engines died a slow death, gray smoke cooking out from under their hoods. When the sub-garage was silent, she shrugged at Darcy.
Long moments ticked by, and Ada held her breath for a concrete response.
“That was weird,” Darcy said.
She might be pretending. She assumed Darcy wasn’t her biggest fan, and might not be inclined to share her abilities. Pretending not to notice Ada’s powers was a great way to avoid speaking about her own. She brushed by Darcy, who caught her lightly by the arm.
“Don’t get too close to my brother.”
The warning was unexpected, and it tilted her expectations of Darcy.
Slowly, she shyed away from her sister’s touch. “Why?”
“Because he’s a lot like my father.”
In that case, I’ll stay far away.
She was lying to herself already. Thoughts of Phennell were deeply embedded in her brain and not for good reasons. Ada already planned when she would next meet with him, and what they might do. Darcy’s warning was too late.
By this time, Kressick had gotten into the car and turned it on, a signal he was ready to leave. Ada wanted to ask a follow up to Darcy’s comment, but she didn’t have to. The Moretz she heard of was no saint.
~*~
“Is she gone?” Chancelin called from the upstairs landing.
“She’s gone!” Darcy chirped on her way back from the sub- garage.
“Oh, thank god.”
Chancelin returned to her bedroom. Back in the dining room, Phennell and Moretz were smoking cigars. Darcy asked where her cigar was, pulling a laugh from the two men. They didn’t understand she was serious. She tried another question.
“Why did mom stay in her room all night?”
Phennell smirked. “You’re joking, right?”
Their father held up his hand to silence them both. “Children, it’s been a long day. I’m going to tend to your mother.” He put out his cigar.
He makes Mom sound like a sick dog.
After Moretz left the room, Phennell said, “She’s not that bad.”
She, as in Ada.
Darcy knew her brother was infatuated with Ada, but there seemed to be nothing attractive about her. Attraction was important to her brother, if Phennell’s former girlfriends were any indication. Ada didn’t compare to the wanna-be actresses and models he let escort him around town. What set her apart was her status as a new member of the family.
Darcy figured Phennell didn’t really want Ada; he wanted to piss off his mother. Chancelin and Phennell had hated each other for as long as Darcy could remember, maybe after she divorced his father in favor of Moretz. Whatever his reasons, dating Ada would satisfy the quota for hurting Chancelin.
“You’re so predictable,” Darcy said.
“What are you talking about?” he wanted to know with a frown.
“If you want to turn Ada into a rebellion project, you’re about four years too late. High school’s over for you, Phennell.” She flipped her hair, feeling very wise.
Her mother might have said something similar, only in a scarier manner.
“That’s not what I’m intending to do.” He raised his brows. “If
anything, you hate her, not me.”
Darcy didn’t hate anyone, least of all her mother. There were times when it seemed Chancelin hated her, and she would ask herself, late at night, why her mother didn’t love her. She tucked the thought into a ball and threw it away.
“I do not hate Mom!”
Phennell bopped her on the head with a flower taken off the table. “Not Mom, dumbass. Ada. You hate Ada.”
“No,” she said slowly. “I don’t hate her.” The truth sprung up, shifting her state of mind. She didn’t hate Ada, but like was very far away. “I just don’t know her. I’m not about to open my arms to a stranger claiming to be our sister.”
“She wouldn’t be a stranger if you got to know her, like I have.”
He rose from the dining room table. He was trying to leave rom before Darcy could reply to his argument, like the coward he usually was about confrontation.
Probably learned how to flee important issues, like his dad, a mean voice inside her said.
“I don’t plan on getting to know her on the same level you do, ya perv!”
Phennell looked shocked, not with the shock of an inaccurate statement, but with the shock of being caught.
Eww.
So her brother did plan on sleeping with Ada. Well, Darcy planned to keep Phennell away from Ada. Darcy wouldn’t wish the idiotic and hurtful nature of her brother on anyone.
Twenty One
As Shylar watched the two of them interact, he was happy to be on a committed path. The old Shylar might have read into their familiar glances. The old Shylar might have been bothered by their flirty conversations. Lastly, the old Shylar most definitely would have gotten jealous over the quick kiss the pair shared.
He forced detached awareness to prevail as he surveyed Ada and Phennell. He wasn’t meant to feel anything anymore, except faith in the mission and faith in his superior. Still, whenever Phennell spoke, Shylar narrowed his eyes, and his mouth creased into a thin line at the moment Ada and Phennell touched lips.
She lingered on the kiss, but he pulled away from it like a blushing schoolgirl. Shylar thought the move was amusing, as he could infer the implications behind it. Phennell was playing coy, because the more he drew away, the more she wanted him near.
From his expert execution, he had used a similar technique on other women. A glance at his wristlet reminded Shylar of Phennell’s history with women. Kressick had sent his grandson’s file, along with the files of the entire Moretz family. All of their secrets belonged to him. He had Ada’s file too. Sometimes, Shylar read it over and over, even thought he had memorized each fact. Subject has graduate degree in historical literature. Subject married for ten years. Subject hates frogs. He wondered about some of the facts, like why she hated frogs.
Often, he wondered why she blamed anyone for the demise of her husband. It had been an accident. Someone should have told her that by now.
None of it mattered. His personal assessment had no bearing on his current assignment, as the re-wired parts of his brain reminded him yet again.
Watching the tiny images on his arm gave him a headache. To ease the strain, he tapped an option, bringing out a three- dimensional display of the surveillance stream. Miniature versions of Ada and Phennell popped up in front of him. Mini-Ada leaned over to speak intimately with mini-Phennell. Her pixilated one-inch hand extended to caress his arm.
Shylar frowned. From her file and everything he watched in the interim, she was a cold-hearted woman, nearly like a Prominent when it came to affection. She wasn’t always so. He had read how she used to mentor underprivileged students, how she loved attending basketball games, and her love of rescuing animals from the local shelter. Her recent attitude was a by-product of her powers, and the accidental maiming of August.
On a few observations, Ada’s treatment of men had been horrible, with the worth case involving her instruct a man to “fuck off and die” after he had handed her his communication acronyms. Phennell received the opposite treatment. She could have an angle, Shylar thought, but really, he didn’t think there was one.
“You still tailing the love birds?” Shana’s entrance to Shylar’s hideout was undetectable, a specialty of hers.
He told her earlier where he might be, but he changed venues last minute. She managed to find him anyway and sneak up on him too. His admiration for her grew.
She tapped her interface to his. The file transfer took seconds, and he quickly scanned through them. “You got all of this in one day?”
“I may be young and hungry all the time, but I’m not incompetent.”
He tossed an apple her way, which Shana caught without blinking.
She appraised the piece of fruit the way one might a piece of fine jewelry. “This modulated or is it real? I never know with you.”
He checked on his charge, who was still chatting up her stepbrother. Phennell touched the side of her cheek briefly, and she smiled. Shylar wanted to vomit. “It’s real.”
Shana whistled. “You sure are set up. I still don’t see why you need me to follow that Sammie around. She’s not even messing with your girl.”
While shadowing his target, Shylar had noticed another tail of the government variety. When a woman with dark hair and glasses had shown up in more than one location, he figured her appearance was more than a coincidence. After employing Shana to watch the watcher, they learned she was a Sammie.
A Sammie hanging around translated to bad news, and Shylar meant to be careful. “She might be trouble later. Keep on her and get back to me.” He handed her a bag of apples, and Shana gave a hoot. A recurring noise with her, but not heard often, as she only sounded off when happy.
“Thanks, hoss. Good luck with that.” She winked at the hologram surveillance.
“Yeah. See ya later.” He did a double take and shook his head. His goodbye had been for naught, because she was already gone. She was a show-off sometimes.
The breakfast date ended not long after Ada’s arm caress. While Phennell wired money to the electronic waiter to the cover the bill, Shylar walked to the street, ready to follow his assignment on foot. He stopped when he saw Ada arguing casually with Phennell, which prompted him to turn up the audio on the surveillance stream.
“I can pay for myself,” she said. “I have money.”
“I didn’t mean to offend, ma’am,” Phennell said, dripping with Southern charm. “A man pays for a woman, and that’s just the right thing to do.”
She smiled, less than sweet. “How ‘bout, next time, you let me pay? See how right it can feel.”
Now he was offended. “That wouldn’t feel right at all.”
“Letting me pay for the bill feels wrong because then I would be taking care of you, and it’s not right to let a woman take care of a man, is that correct?”
“That’s uh, that’s not what I said...”
“But it’s what you meant,” she said with a shrug in her tone. “Let’s not make a thing of it. Next time, let’s try the crazy thing of letting me pay, even if we’re on a date.”
Shylar enjoyed the exchange, up until the point of Ada categorizing their meeting as a date.
She had walked to the bistro—the bistro being a few blocks away from Kressick’s townhome. For the meeting—or date—she had donned a blue sundress and sandals. Her long dark curls bounced as she walked back to Kressick’s. Though she wore little make-up— hardly ever does, Shylar thought—she was radiant in the sunlight.
As she made her way along the city, he gave her plenty of lead time. No way was he being made. Digital tracking made it impossible to lose her trail. He strolled at a leisurely pace, occasionally peeking at his arm for confirmation he was on the right track.
The red dot on his screen stopped moving. Hmm, Peachtree and 5th Street. Ada was in the drugstore, maybe to buy contraceptives. If that was the case, she must have quite a bankroll. Contraceptives of any kind cost a small fortune. Like other men of his social stature, Shylar had perfected the pull-out method in lieu o
f purchasing expensive contraceptives. Do you think he’ll pull out or come inside her? the voice mocked him.
He shook his head to clear out the cobwebs. For some time, the only voice in his head had been one of absolute confidence. The whisper came from the unsure part he hadn’t heard from in years.
Pre-Kressick, Shylar had been a selfish, directionless thief. With all of his girlfriends—there had been a whopping three—he had also been a selfish, directionless thief.
While watching the stationary red bleep on his interface, he recalled a conversation. Ada and Phennell were flirting, with him holding back slightly. She asked him why he wasn’t interested in her. He told her he was very interested, but he didn’t think he was good enough for her. She laughed, but his expression remained solemn. Money, he explained, was something he lacked. He was a full-time student, and his parents hadn’t made him get a job.
“I don’t have a job either,” she said.
“Then why would I burden you with my penniless ass? It would be selfish.”
As a comparable jackass, Shylar could tell Phennell didn’t mean a word of what he said. Still, the actual meaning of the words resonated. Each of Shylar’s girlfriends had held honest jobs, supporting him for the duration of the tumultuous relationship. The arrangement hadn’t bothered him, though it had always seemed to bother his girlfriends. Until Phennell’s false words, Shylar hadn’t seen anything wrong in using a woman for her money, her shelter, and her sex.
But it was wrong. As was Phennell for standing on a platform of morals with false intentions.
A job. Having his shit together—Shylar never had any of those things. Suddenly, having them seemed important. The importance of self-reliance momentarily outshone the importance of his mission. He had to talk to Kressick. He would understand.
The red beep was on the move again. No hurry. Yet, there was a blue mass following the red one, and it had been since Ada left the bistro. Shylar jogged to catch up and get a visual of her stalker. Second stalker to be precise.
The second stalker was a woman in a dark suit and sunglasses. Her hair was slicked back into a high ponytail. Everything about her fit the downtown Atlanta atmosphere, except for her walk. Her stride wasn’t confident, as was the norm. She took short steps, always watching Ada as she moved forward. If she was a Sammie, then she was severely undertrained in the art of trailing. At the next street corner, Ada whirled to confront the woman four feet from her.