by Debra Jess
The taste of the brandy remained on Hannah’s lips. She licked the taste before deciding it wasn't so bad. She took another sip. "I don't feel strong. I'm scared. I thought the fear would go away once I arrived in Thunder City, but I'm still scared. Not of the terrorists, not even of Star Haven. There's always this fear of...I don't know. Making choices? And anger. I'm always angry these days." It all made sense to her. Or, maybe it was just the alcohol talking. "I'm angry that I'm forced to make these decisions that I don't think I'm ready to make."
"Welcome to adulthood. Only the very foolish and the stupidly arrogant are never afraid to make choices."
"When have you ever been scared?" The idea of Catherine not staring down fear was unimaginable.
"The first time I became pregnant."
Hannah’s shot glass slipped from her fingers, but she caught it before it hit the floor. Instead of yelling about the near accident ruining the carpeting, as Miranda would have, Catherine laughed. "Do the math. Nik's twenty-eight. I'm forty-five. Thunder City put on blinders when it came to my teenage dalliances."
Seventeen. Hannah hadn't given Catherine's age a thought, but she'd only been seventeen when she gave birth to Nik.
"Of course, I wasn't Captain Spectacular then. I was just a stupid teenage girl who didn't think she'd get pregnant the first time. I wasn't sure I could even get pregnant. My father had warned me early on, when I first got my period, that even if I had the same biological functions as Norms, pregnancy might not be possible. How could a baby grow inside a womb surrounded by muscle capable of withstanding a speeding bullet?"
Catherine stood to pour herself another drink and refilled Hannah's glass. It didn't appear as if Catherine were paying attention to the alcohol.
"Nik proved stronger than my body, though. He survived. Alek and Evan survived. Then Cory. No matter what the Chaos Alts tossed at me, the boys survived while inside of me."
"You fought for Thunder City even while pregnant?"
"I didn't want to. My father had other plans and I wanted to please him. I found out much later he'd been testing me. He hadn't cared about my sons as a grandfather should. He wanted a family of Alts, but he wanted them only if their abilities proved useful for him. He encouraged me to keep having babies to defend him and Blackwood Enterprises. He would have used us, used me, to increase his wealth and power. He thought of Thunder City as his personal playground. Alts were his tools, his weapons. Norms were nothing but wage slaves."
Hannah swallowed more of the warm, smoky liquid. Her head spun a little, but her body sank further into a cushion of pleasure while she listened to Catherine's horror play out. She craved the attention Catherine paid her. She didn't want to break the connection.
"Scott told me you kicked your father out of the house."
"So much evil committed right under my nose and I never even saw it. We'd been fighting, always fighting. T-CASS wasn't born on a whim. Truth be told, I'd been inspired by Demitrios — my first husband. He was the one who wanted to unite the Alts, he was the one who wanted to protest the restrictions Norms placed on us."
"What happened?"
Catherine sighed, another swallow disappearing down her throat. Hannah followed with a sip of her own, the taste no longer distracting her. "He never saw it as something as formal as T-CASS. He never wanted the Oversight Committee. He just wanted it written into the law that Alts could live their lives however they saw fit within the general rule of law set out for Norms. He never wanted a set of rules set aside just for us. He fought me, too. Daily. All through my pregnancy. He was supportive of our marriage, but — "
"You're Catherine Blackwood. Your marriage isn't separate from your job."
Catherine closed her eyes. "I saw myself as an example. I thought if I led by example, other Alts would follow. Some did. Others didn't. The schism between T-CASS and Neuts started because some Alts threatened to leave Thunder City if they had to become a part of T-CASS. Other's threatened violent protest."
"Nik's father?"
Catherine hesitated. "I don't believe Demitrios would have hurt anyone to get his way, but I couldn't say the same about a few others. They were good people, not Chaos Alts, but they didn't believe they should be forced to join T-CASS if they didn't want to. I had to compromise or I risked losing my dream. I didn't want any Alt to feel as if they had to leave Thunder City and the security we offered for freedom somewhere else. I didn't want to lose all of their talent, their drive, their ambition. Demitrios was right. You can't force people to live good lives. You can only inspire the ones who choose to join you and hope the rest will respect the ground on which you stand."
Hannah had always watched Captain Spectacular from the distance of Star Haven. The Captain could inspire her even from across the Bay. Catherine was different — at least this Catherine, the person, not the Alt. "Nik turned out okay. So did Alek and Evan."
Catherine smiled. "Yes. Demitrios and I divorced, but he stood by our sons. I have no complaints. He loves them as much as I do. Without him, I couldn't have undone the damage my father inflicted on them, especially the twins."
"And Scott...Cory?" Her head buzzed. It was getting harder to remember only she called Scott by his assumed name.
"Yes, and Cory. If Cole — his father — had lived, things would have been very different."
"He would have loved Cory even if he hadn't been an Alt."
Catherine opened her eyes again, but she didn't look at Hannah. Hannah wondered if Catherine even remembered who it was she was talking to. "I loved Cory, but he reminded me too much of Cole. I had already lost my mother to cancer and my husband to my own ambitions. Cory looks just like his father. Seeing him grow reminded me of my failure to save him."
"What happened to Cole? Cory told me he only knows what he read in the paper and what his brothers told him."
Catherine leaned over and kissed Hannah on the forehead. "There isn't enough alcohol on the planet for that story." She stood up to leave, but paused at the door. "Get yourself a glass of water before you go to bed."
Then she was gone. Hannah didn't even hear the sounds of her footsteps on the stairwell. Maybe she flew, low to the floor, her feet not quite touching the carpet?
Hannah contemplated the rest of her drink, still a finger left in the glass. She swallowed the rest of it. Why not? If Catherine had served it, there was no reason why she couldn't enjoy it along with her hero. With renewed purpose, she scooped up the box with Roger's urn and left the room.
14
Eight-ball greeted Hannah in the kitchen with a meow before threading himself between her wobbly legs. After Catherine's talk about husbands and fathers, Roger's ashes took priority over cuddling the cat. She would scatter his ashes tonight, giving him peace, before anything could happen that would delay his return to the earth.
All of her plans for food and a shower melted away. The ashes weighed heavy in her hand, all of her emotions boxed behind a wall of control leaking brandy through ever widening cracks. Garrett, the butler, more than likely had retired for the evening. Dani wasn't out in the sunroom, so maybe she'd decided to explore the rose covered trellis at the end of the walkway.
The cat followed Hannah outside, but disappeared to hunt as she made her way toward the dock out back. She didn't see Scott, Nik, or Thomas, either, so they must have disappeared elsewhere inside the mansion. Hannah chose the path leading in the opposite direction from the trellis. The Elusive Lady floated in the shadow of the lanterns lining the wooden walkway. The Lady belonged to Thomas, and Hannah needed to be as far away from the reminder of the Blackwood family as she could while living in their home, so she made her way along the border toward the neighboring estate.
The breeze from the harbor picked up, with just a hint of autumn chill in the air as the sun set. Where the shore curved to hug the Bay, neighboring estates turned on their evening lights, twinkling in the growing dark. The silence opened its arms to comfort her.
She wasn't sure how long she sat there
before Scott's heavy steps found her. Funny, how she could recognize his gait from all of the other members of the household after less than two weeks.
He sat next to her, his arm wrapped around her shoulders and his gloved hands on her knit sweater, keeping her warm against the cool breeze.
"What's in the box?" he asked.
"Roger's ashes," she said. What's left of my heart, she wanted to say but didn't. What she really meant was, what was left of the only man who had ever made her feel like she belonged, like she was normal, as if she were special enough to care about. Roger had cared for her, enough to die for her. How did you honor something so precious?
Scott didn't reply right away. He kept his thoughts to himself, while the water lapped against the pylons underneath them. After a long while he said, "There's a cemetery about ten minutes away if you'd prefer."
Hannah shook her head, but realized Scott wouldn't see the subtle motion in the growing darkness. "I want this done. I loved Roger, but he was Miranda's husband before he was my stepfather. No matter how much I cherish my memories of him, I can't think of him without thinking of her. I don't want Miranda lingering anywhere near Thunder City. She doesn't belong here. She doesn't belong anywhere. Her body might be lost at the harbor. I don't care about that. I have to let Roger go here, now. I can't have him without her."
She still couldn't bring herself to open the urn and scatter Roger's ashes. She just sat there, huddled against Scott, her fingers growing numb from her death grip on the urn.
Scott let go of her shoulders to rub her back in slow circles. "Take your time. We're in no rush."
But she was in a rush. A rush against possible incarceration. A rush against the need to prove herself. A rush against an investigation that wasn't going anywhere fast.
There were so many unanswered questions. What had happened to all of Roger's money? Was there really nothing for Hannah to inherit except the urn and his ashes? Miranda had married Roger for his money, so Miranda's accounts, and Roger's by default, must have been tied up with building the quarry and paying Miranda’s mercenaries. Or maybe it had been transferred to the Court of Blood. Not that the money would do her any good now, but what about her future? Did she even have one? Would the Committee let her have a say in her future at all?
"When I was eight," she said, leaning into Scott, "I won a science contest at school. A demonstration with prisms about light refraction and rainbows. Miranda's second husband had helped me pick out the prism and tape it to the cardboard box. I hadn't thought Miranda had noticed what we were doing, much less cared. But something changed that day. She got a phone call and became all excited. Out of the blue she offered to help me bring the project to school and even spell-checked my essay. She offered to let me use an old tripod we had out in the garage as a stand for the cardboard box. After I won, she took me out for ice cream, just the two of us. She let me pick out whatever flavor I wanted. I decided to try strawberry, though I'd never eaten strawberry-flavored ice cream before. Miranda bragged to the waitress about my science project and asked her to put extra sprinkles and whipped cream on top. When the waitress came back, the bowl had more whipped cream than ice cream."
Her tears softened the stars appearing in the sky.
"You had a good day with her," Scott leaned low, to whisper in her ear, still keeping his lips just far enough away to not touch her. "She introduced you to your favorite ice cream flavor."
"I had forgotten that." Her throat tightened, her voice became more ragged. "After her third marriage, I had forgotten about the ice cream. I had forgotten even after Roger took me out one day before he married Miranda. He offered to buy me ice cream and I asked for strawberry with extra whipped cream and sprinkles. I've always thought of Roger when I thought about strawberry ice cream, but it was really Miranda who bought it for me first."
Scott's arm tightened around her shoulders, pulling her closer, the pressure of his arm keeping her strong, keeping her tears in check.
"Why am I remembering this now? I hate her. I hate what she became, I hate what she did to you, I hate what she did to me, and to all the other Alts stuck in her prison. Why can't I dump Roger's ashes? I should be thinking of him. He used to take me out on his sailboat. Why can't I think about that without thinking of Miranda?"
Scott said nothing for a while, rocking Hannah back and forth in a gentle motion. Hannah closed her eyes, imaging herself on Roger's boat, and Scott's rocking motion was just like the Bay lulling her to safety and comfort.
"Miranda is all you know," he said, finally. "For better or worse, she raised you. She's your most dominant memory and you can't forget her so easily until you have other memories, better memories, to erase her."
Better memories. Yes, that's what she needed. Better, happier, memories. Memories she would build here in Thunder City. Hadn't she already started? With Scott? The Committee was ruining the memories she should be building, damn them.
Hannah inhaled the salty air, long and slow, but the brandy still kept her heart wide open. Scott had her back and she had his. He wanted her to build new memories. That would be her mission, her mantra. New memories and a new life with Scott by her side. They would make it happen, somehow.
With care, she unhooked the top of the urn.
"Go ahead, Hannah," he urged. "She can't hurt you anymore."
Hannah turned the urn over. The wind picked up with a burst, scattering the ashes far across the murky waters. Without a second thought, she tossed the urn into the water along with the ashes.
"Thank you for Roger, Miranda. Thank you for giving me the gift of a real father. I hope you only spend most of eternity in hell. Roger, you gave me hope, which was more important than what anyone else had given me."
She watched the urn bob in the waves for a moment, then sink beneath the surface. It was done. She owned nothing from her past and was glad for it. So why did her soul weigh her down like a wet blanket over a kicked puppy?
The tears started to spill then, because she couldn't see Scott, even in the light of the lanterns against the darkening sky. Her world blurred and her cheeks cooled with the wetness. Scott shifted, pulling his hand from her shoulder to run his gloved fingers through her hair.
She curled into him, wanting the contact, damning the Committee for taking human contact away from her. She need to touch someone. The feeling of skin, the warmth of a someone so close to you, you could feel their pulse, breathe the same air. If touch could be addictive, she was desperate for a fix and it had been so long since she last touched Scott on board the yacht. Touching skin to bloodsurf only teased her with possibilities. She had control when she healed Scott. If only she could dam up her pain and let it leak through more slowly, controlling the vicious sorrow that clawed away at her stomach, her heart, her mind.
Her tears slowed after who knew how long. She wiped her eyes. The stars shone across the sky, and the sun had set. Scott still held her, rocking a gentle rhythm in time to the water lapping against the dock.
"I want to spend the night with you."
Had she said that? She must have because Scott broke his rhythm mid-rock. "We can't."
"We can." Her determination overrode her grief. She needed to feel Scott, like she had oh, so briefly in his bedroom before his arrest. Nothing had made her feel more blissful than having Scott's whole body pressed against her, all hard muscle, except his lips, which were soft and playful. The memory of his fingers touching her between her legs sparked a slow burn where her jeans pressed into that same juncture. Skin-on-skin contact would lay the foundation for all of her new memories, and only having Scott's rough hands on her body could satisfy her. "I want you. I want this. No one has to know."
"My parents will know. It's their house. Nothing happens in there that they don't know about. Alek and Evan will probably stay the night too. You know those two will be snooping around getting up to no good."
Hannah couldn't stop the giggle at the idea of all Catherine's grown sons sneaking around the mansion.
"Do you think Nik will stay? With Dani?"
Scott's shoulders lifted in a half shrug. "Maybe."
"I want to make love with you," she repeated. "For real this time. No bloodsurfing." Scott's arms were still around her, his gloved hands tucked around her waist. Instead of giving her comfort, it made her remember what his hands were doing when they were in his bed. The feel of his fingers touching her where she'd never been touched before, the orgasm he gave her without even entering her body. Yes, that was how she wanted to feel, to sweep away the pain, push it so far away it couldn't hurt her anymore. "If Nik and Dani can sleep together, there's no reason we can't. We have control right here, right now. Even if we didn't, no one is going to get hurt but us. We'll take responsibility if someone finds out."
Even in the low light she could see Scott lick his lips, temptation in his eyes. Good to know that despite everything, he still wanted her. She rested her head on his chest where she could hear his heart. He had a perfect heart because she'd made it perfect.
Without warning, Scott pulled his long legs up onto the dock. He stood and with one smooth tug, pulled her to stand next to him. Hannah took one last swipe with her sleeve across her eyes to keep her tears from showing. With firm resolve, she put Roger, and with him, Miranda, out of her mind.
Making love with Scott wasn't a mistake. She wouldn't let it become a mistake. The Committee might regulate everything else, but she wasn't going to let them control this. What she and Scott shared together was none of their business. They were adults who'd survived too many attempts on their lives to let others decide what was best for them. The Committee would call them selfish, but it was the Committee that was selfish. They wanted to keep the Blood Surfer to themselves.
Instead of bringing her back into the house, Scott led her onto the Elusive Lady. No one would see them here. He turned on a light but kept it low. Ignoring the master bedroom, Scott took her to a guest bedroom across the hall.
Like the rest of the yacht, this room had the warm, earthy colors of late autumn. Outside the porthole, Hannah could see the lanterns from the deck reflecting off the low waves from the Bay. The yacht rocked ever so slightly as each wave rolled against it.