Deadwire

by A K Blake

  He stopped when they were inside the corridor of the blood dispensers, past the far corner, so that they were out of sight of anyone passing by.

  “You have what we’re after.”

  Luca nodded, not questioning how he knew. He was already aware that, whoever these people were, they had eyes and ears everywhere.

  “You know you need a key too.”

  The workman nodded. “We’re aware. I’m authorized to offer you double for the key as well as the access codes.”

  Luca knew he should negotiate, but such a sum was already more than he could spend in a lifetime, and there was a part of him that simply wanted to be done. Mutely he pulled the key and the access codes, written crudely on a piece of paper, from his bag.

  “I want to see the money first.”

  The workman nodded. Producing a bag, he unzipped it, showing Luca the contents: stacks upon stacks of gleaming plastic cards.

  “You won’t mind first if I verify that these work.”

  It wasn’t a question. After satisfying himself that the codes were genuine, the workman turned to him, the arm with the bag outstretched.

  “350,000,000 cc’s, bundled in increments of 10,000. Looks like your life is looking up. You know what to do, right? Don’t spend it all at once. If you have to deposit it, do it slowly, small bits at a time. Don’t go flaunting it around like a drug dealer, or you’ll get yourself thrown back in here before you can blink. Won’t be so pleasant the second time.

  “We won’t be seeing you again, you won’t hear from us. Don’t make the mistake of thinking if you get arrested the police are going to track us down or think you’re anything but nuts. Better for you to forget we ever existed. Got it?”

  Not feeling at all prepared, Luca nodded. The man transferred the cards to him, a much heavier burden than he expected. Automatically, he put them in his bag.

  “Lie low, be smart.”

  The workman nodded again, and Luca knew it was time for him to go. Wistfully, he asked, “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what all this is for?”

  “And here I was starting to think you had some brains. You know better. Don’t go giving me a reason to think you’re trouble.”

  Luca sighed. “Nope, no trouble here.”

  Shouldering the bag, he took a last look at the terminal before he went. He assumed it would be off limits to him again after tonight, the usual physical barriers magically rebuilt by the workman. Then again, he supposed it didn’t really matter. Now that he was rich, he didn’t plan on staying on at the colosseum one night more than he had to, and once his employee certificate was deactivated, he would no longer have access to it anyway.

  Luca looked at the sleek white machine with a sort of wistfulness. Such power had been his, if only for a few brief moments. Now he supposed he would have a different kind of power. He was about to find out what sorts of things unlimited money could buy. Yet he had a feeling nothing in his life would quite compare to the excitement and anxiety of the past few months.

  ***

  Luca was in a fantasy world on the way to the sick ward, only coming down when he ran into the large group of heavily muscled vampires outside the door. They were spread in a semicircle around it, kinetic handguns clearly visible in the holsters beneath their expensive suits. One of them held up a hand as Luca approached.

  “No nonessential personnel.”

  “I work here…”

  “You have id?”

  Obediently, he allowed the guard to scan the work certificate on his spore.

  “Hmph. What’s your business here?”

  “Just...helping out. Everything is pretty crazy right now, they’re just sending us wherever they need people the most.”

  The vampire squinted at his spore again as if this would reveal some ulterior motive, his massive face set a picture of reluctance. Luca struggled to keep his face neutral, trying not to sweat, despite being acutely aware of the sharp plastic corners of 350,000,000 cc’s digging into his leg through the material of his bag. Was this how it ended? Not even a night to revel in his victory before palace security threw him straight into a cell?

  Another vampire ran a threat detector over his body, and he was suddenly incredibly grateful for the privacy measures the Munificents had scraped through in Assembly, grateful that the x-ray machine ran an algorithm to display only potential dangers rather than the standard images of all his most personal possessions, as it had in the old days. After what felt like an eternity, the vampire waved him through.

  “You can go in then. But keep your eyes and ears shut about what’s in there.”

  Luca wasn’t sure how he was meant to do either of these things, and personally felt that keeping his mouth shut was probably the most important if the guard meant that he shouldn’t talk about whatever the Prince was doing, but he wisely kept these thoughts to himself. Giving the vampire a wide berth, he squeezed past him and through the door.

  It was all he could do not to turn around and go directly back out. The common ward was a nightmare, though of the type that was becoming unbearably familiar the longer he worked in the arena. Automatically, he found himself taking shallow breaths and wishing for matra. It was a good thing he was done with this job. He tried to make himself walk forward, tried to scan the cots for Iona, but he felt as if there were an invisible barrier through which he couldn’t move. Signaling a bit frantically to one of the nurses, he managed to flag the vampire down, learning to his intense relief that she had been moved to another ward.

  It was only after he was safely ensconced in the clean, white hallways of the pro area, marveling despite himself at his proximity to Artemon and Vleg, that he realized how strange it was that a no-name human would have been placed here. Did Iona have money he didn’t know about? She certainly hadn’t seemed to have any connections inside the arena. One would think she would’ve gotten herself help before she was eviscerated if she had. So what would have prompted the staff to give her such preferential treatment?

  However, all thoughts were stripped from his brain as a vampire exited the room at the far end of the ward, time slowing to a halt as he was once again face to face with the future king of all of Laemia. Earlier, when he’d fumbled his way through their conversation about directions, Luca had been in shock, unprepared to be in the same vicinity as His Majesty, let alone speak to him. He hadn’t been sure it really even happened. But that time the magnetism of his presence had been blunted. He’d been surrounded by security, impatient. Luca’s presence barely registered. This was different. They were the only beings in the corridor, two points on an axis, only space between them.

  The Prince was tall, felt taller even in person than in holovids, particularly now that he was on his own, away from the bulky mass of his guards. Yet, despite appearing lanky, there was a sense of strength the emanated from him, long arms corded with thick veins, skin smooth and gleaming like para-aramid fiber. His eyes, when they were once again trained on Luca, had the same intensity as before, that same feeling of sucking the air from the room.

  “And who are you?”

  “I’m...I…work here.”

  The Prince continued to stare, golden eyes brimming.

  “I’m just here to see...a friend. She’s in...I think she might be here.”

  The Prince cocked his head as if to consider this. “Your friend, is it the girl from the aechillian match?”

  “Yes! The one with...the one who fought the vampire.”

  “I see. In that case, she may well need you soon.”

  Luca wasn’t sure what to make of this, could barely think at all. There was a moment of silence, as the Prince looked at him, as if evaluating.

  “If I were to offer you a position at court, would you take it?”

  “Me? I’m not, I don’t” he trailed off, before beginning again in a what he hoped was a stronger tone. “I would certainly consider it. Your Highness.”

  “I believe you would be a great asset to your friend in the coming
months and, by extension, to me. I’m afraid the context of your duties is a sensitive issue in the eye of the Crown. As such, I cannot reveal the nature of the position until you have accepted. You must decide with only my word as a failsafe. You could be well compensated, but more importantly, you would be serving your country. ”

  He paused, again considering.

  “What do you say, boy? Will you serve your king?”

  Luca was taken aback. Despite the incredibly surreal quality of the choice at hand, it was hardly a difficult decision. There was not much left here for him in New Gamen, with Mykal gone off to some military base, his sinister deal with the workman done. In fact, the further from the arena he found himself from now on, the better. Moving to the palace, taking a job from the King, did not exactly fit the workman’s definition of “lying low.” Yet it would help him account for his sudden increase in wealth. That is, assuming he didn’t get caught.

  Feeling a bit grandiose, his chest swelling with destiny, Luca drew himself up to his full height before lowering into a deep bow.

  “Your Majesty, it would be my honor.”

  “Good. Then let this mark the bond. My assistant will be in touch with contractual information. Until then, your friend is in need of you. She is enduring a transition that could prove difficult in more ways than one.”

  He made to move past Luca but stopped, placing a hand on the top of his shoulder and leaning in meaningfully. Luca felt as if he were drowning in molten gold.

  “Be ever mindful that you are my vassal in this. Steadfast, liegeman. Look after her well.”

  And then he was gone, whisking away in a blur that belied his relative youth under the weight of such power. The place where his hand had rested on Luca’s shoulder felt hot, like a brand, a reminder of his enigmatic charge.

  Luca continued down the hallway numbly until he reached the only unmarked door. He wasn’t sure what had happened, whether it was real or imagined, and what it could all possibly be about. Him, in the palace? Iona, some friend of the Prince?

  When he reached the hospital room, he found a doctor bent over her unmoving body, a bag above her head pumping in blood. Instinctively feeling that he did not want to be seen, that he could not possibly withstand another unexpected encounter after the series of encounters he had already withstood that night, Luca ducked into a bathroom off the hall until the doctor had gone. Iona’s door was locked, but his work code overrode it.

  Standing over her inert form, he wasn’t sure what the King thought he could do. Her skin was ashen, and he had to check several times to see if she was breathing. She looked strange, so motionless, so vulnerable, her body punctured everywhere by cords, engulfed in a bland hospital gown. He tried not to look at her arm. He had not known her long, but it felt wrong somehow that one so strong would be rendered helpless, so unable to fight back.

  Not knowing what else to do now that he’d come, he sat heavily in one of the plush chairs. Yet even as he sat, he thought she looked better from the lower angle. Arranging himself more comfortably, he looked closer, sure this time that her color was beginning to return, her breathing evening out. Surely patients didn’t normally look so rosy and well rested this soon after reaching the brink of death. He looked at the monitors as if he could read them, but to no avail. He had only seen a few blood transfusions before, all of them illegal, givers from the casino scamming for more private sessions. He recognized the effects, but normally it took hours to look this good, and that was from a far more minor blood loss.

  Even as he leaned in toward her, Iona’s eyelids began to flutter, the fingers on her good hand twitching so fast they were almost a blur, so fast it was as if it were inhuman. As quickly as it had begun, the motion stopped. There was a pregnant pause. Luca found himself holding his breath.

  And then Iona awoke.

  Acknowledgements

  I owe a debt of gratitude to many people for their help in making Deadwire come to life. First are my wonderful beta readers, including the unendingly positive Kerrilee Quaintmere, my kick-ass mother-in-law, and many other friends and family. I also want to thank my parents for reading the same children's books to me over and over, for instilling in me a love of words, and for always being my biggest fans. Thank you to my husband for the late night walks hashing out plot, for being brave enough to be my first and wholly unwelcome critic, and for always believing so staunchly that I will one day become his sugar mama. Lastly, a huge thanks from the bottom of my heart to Carson Pynes Kullos, my biggest fangirl, who has given me more pep talks than I deserve and without whom Iona would still be a mouse in the woodwork.

  introducing

  If you enjoyed

  DEADWIRE

  look out for...

  LIVEWIRE

  The Laemia Chronicles: Book Two

  by A.K. Blake

  Chapter 1

  Lux was getting tired of wearing black. It was fine for the rest of the country. After the first week following the Queen’s death, businesses had reopened, and most people had gone back to their normal lives and normal clothes. Giver duties resumed as well, but with the palace in official mourning until the new king’s coronation, black had becomes Lux’s every waking moment. She ran out of appropriate formalwear after her fourth night back at work and could hardly bear the thought of rewearing within the same week, though she supposed it would be better than dying one of her other gowns. Worse, her hair was still auburn from the jubilee. It looked fantastic, of course, but it was too seductive for the occasion by far. She’d been meaning to dye it back, but she’d been busy after Iona’s arrest, and now...well, she hadn’t gotten around to it.

  Finally slipping into a charcoal dress with a revealing cowl back that she’d only worn once, she added a red lip and took a few pulls from the bottle of scotch on her vanity. It was wasn’t her usual habit to drink before work, but tonight she needed a boost. Looking again at her reflection—still beautiful, despite hollowed out eyes and puffy skin—she popped a few vis pills and ate some matra just to be safe. Everything began to soften a little after that. Much better.

  The scene in the main hall was dismal, all the lights covered with black crepe and everyone talking in hushed voices around tables that dotted the usual dancing area. It was a summit for something science-y, and a succession of speakers with big glasses and bigger noses droned on from the podium until she was bored out of her mind. Sighing, Lux flicked open her spore and began scrolling through people’s posts. This was her first mistake. It was all sickening, people professing their deep ruminations about the nature of death alongside pictures clearly meant to highlight their mourning couture. Then an ad popped up, and she didn’t immediately close it. That was mistake number two. The opening scene was all too familiar, Artemon and that other one with the green and black outfit racing around on their hoverboards. Lux instantly felt sick. She knew what came next.

  It was a highlight reel that had been popping up everywhere, hype to sell tickets for the next round of games. The scenes flashed from fight to fight, colorful adjectives and cartoony noises layered over the real footage, getting faster and faster until the grand finale. Then it stopped, everything slowing, only the sound of heavy breathing as it zoomed in on Iona. Her face was unreadable under the helmet, angry or shocked, it was hard to say. She could’ve been thinking about anything. It showed the match play-by-play, Iona sticking the vampire in the leg, her opponent striking her shield.

  Lux closed her eyes when the vampire’s blade sliced through Iona’s arm, but she could never look away from the end. They always did a close up when Iona dropped to her knees, the bright lights blanching her face, blood spurting from her severed arm. It was like Lux could see the light drain from her eyes. Guilt tugged at her. She’d promised Iona, told her before she died that she would look for Jedrick. And she would. She meant it. Just not now. Still, she couldn’t shake Iona’s expression. It would have haunted her dreams if she’d ever been sober.

  A finger pressed down on the top of h
er screen just as Iona began to fall, collapsing it back into her spore. Hann’s face appeared where it had been, his usually smug expression grim. “C’mon, don’t watch those. Don’t torture yourself.”

  Lux closed her eyes, as if it would erase the images burned into her brain. She opened them, glaring at Hann. “What do you care?”

  “What do I—”

  “You always hated her, you made that pretty clear.”

  “That’s not true!” He looked shocked, overly hurt. “I didn’t hate her. I know I said some things that I, you know, maybe shouldn’t have. But still.” His voice softened. “I wouldn’t wish what happened to her on anyone.”

  “Well, how inconvenient that you can’t tell her yourself. But then, I guess you should’ve thought of all this before she died.”

  Leaving him there, gaping like a carp, Lux went straight to the bar and ordered two shots, taking them one after another, then signaled the bartender for another round. She wanted to punch Hann in his sorry, guilt-ridden face. Breathing hard, she let the liquor taste settle on her tongue and waited for the numbness to come. Instead, she heard an all too familiar voice behind her.

  “Hey there, girlie, that’s quite a few drinks for someone so lovely and petite. Not that I mind a good tear myself every so often, but what’s the occasion?”

  Drowan Callandra was the last thing she needed. Not getting up, she turned her head toward him. It was hard to believe he was the scion for one of Laemia’a oldest and most moneyed families. If Lux had his kind of money, she would have invested into fat reduction surgery. And mouthwash. Gritting her teeth, she pasted on her least convincing smile. “No occasion.”