by Ellery Kane
“In an exclusive interview, Mr. Steele informed SFTV that he was very excited to announce the release of Zenegenic’s new emotion-altering drug, Docil-E. Mr. Steele stated that the drug will likely be approved by the government for public use in the coming weeks. Though he remained relatively tight-lipped about this new EAM, Mr. Steele hinted Docil-E would support the common good. He said, “Our company is extremely proud of Docil-E. We believe this product will go a long way to making the world a little kinder.”
Mr. Van Sant muted the television and turned to me. “Now I’m really worried.” Edison nodded gravely as Elana and I looked on, confused.
“Xander Steele is up to something,” Edison explained.
“You’re right, Son. That man doesn’t do kind.”
CHAPTER THIRTY - FOUR
FIRST QUESTION
I TURNED UP the collar of my jacket to shield my face from the biting wind—its cold, desperate fingers whipped and tousled my hair. It was just after 9, leaving me roughly an hour to walk the two miles from Pacific Heights to Coit Tower. I set a brisk pace, just in case. Just in case—the words Edison said to me before I left. In case of what? I didn’t want to answer my own question, but it burned in the back of my brain.
Elana had tried to convince me to stay. “Lex, I’m not so sure this is a good idea. Can you really trust Emma? What if she lied to you? Set you up?”
I couldn’t reassure her. I had the same doubts. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Edison reached into his waistband and held out a gun. “Take it,” he instructed. “Just in case.”
I could feel the weighty metal of it pressed to my skin as I walked, passing block after block of houses, each indistinguishable from the last. With the curfew nearing, most were lit from within, their occupants hidden away, safe. Like I wished I could be.
I stopped again to look behind me. The empty street extended into the darkness, and I imagined Valkov’s yellow-brown eyes stalking me from beyond where I could see. There was a gnawing in my bones, a crawling in my skin, an unshakeable feeling I was being watched. It wasn’t until I reached the stairs and the familiar dumpster with its raccoon family that it hit me. String had been following Quin. He followed him here. To Coit Tower. And along with that came another, darker thought—what if he’s following me?
In the distance, I heard the rapid drumbeat of footsteps. I crouched behind the dumpster and quieted my breathing. The sound drew nearer, filling the silence—louder and louder—until it stopped right in front of me. A young man I didn’t recognize stared ahead. His eyes were panicked, darting with desperation. Then he ran. Seconds later, I saw them, wearing black bandanas around their mouths just like they had on that cold December afternoon: Satan’s Syndicate, one of the Bay Area’s most violent street gangs. And that was before Onyx.
They traveled in a pack, huddled and fast, stalking their prey. I waited until they were out of sight, waited for the gunshot I knew would come. Expecting it, I flinched anyway—feeling grateful, then ashamed—as I stepped from behind the dumpster.
I edged around the base of Coit Tower toward the entrance, holding the gun Edison gave me close to my side. The door was pulled shut, the boards that once secured it propped against the concrete wall. Stepping over a wad of discarded KEEP OUT tape, I gave the door a gentle push with my foot, then ducked out of sight, its gentle creaking the only reply. I inched forward until I could feel an icy draft escaping from within. Past the doorway, the blackness seemed to pulse with life, even if it—whatever it was—remained just out my sight. I stepped inside.
In an instant, everything happened. So fast, it was impossible to sequence the pieces, but there was no mistaking what came first: the smell of pimento. A hand covered my mouth, then an arm twisted mine until I felt my shoulder wrench, loosening the gun from my grasp. I bit down hard, both relieved and horrified at the taste of blood.
“Ow!” A howl of pain—familiar somehow, though at first I couldn’t place it—and the vise grip around me tightened.
Then a realization. “Quin?” Like an incantation, when I said his name, I was free again. Stupefied, I turned to face my captor. From the darkness, a flashlight’s click revealed his face.
“Lex?” He wasn’t celebrity Quin anymore. He looked like himself again—blue jeans, T-shirt, my favorite leather jacket. He shined the light on my arm. It was hanging loose and throbbing at my side. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”
I shrugged, wincing as I moved. I glanced at Quin’s finger. It was bleeding a little. “I should ask you the same question.”
He wiped his finger against his jeans, then examined it in the flashlight’s glow. A half-moon of teeth marks dotted both sides. “I’ll live.”
Now that we were face to face and finally alone, all my words—the speeches I practiced, the questions I collected—every single one of them escaped me. Quin, too, seemed stumped by our reunion.
“I guess you got my message,” he said finally as I retrieved the gun from where it had fallen. “What happened with Emma? And why were you at Green Briar?”
“It’s a long story. And you’re famous now. I’m not sure if you really have time for it.”
Quin sighed. “I deserve that.”
“Yeah, you do.” I frowned at him. “I think I’m entitled to ask the first question.”
“Okay,” he agreed. “It’s a deal. There’s just one thing I have to do.”
“Make it quick.” I half expected him to turn off the flashlight and disappear again. But Quin stepped toward me and pulled me close to him, his breath soft and even in my ear. Surprised, I stiffened. The last time I was this close to him was the day of the verdict, a lifetime ago. It wasn’t until I felt him start to pull away—the cold space widening between us—that I understood I was waiting for this.
“Or not so quick,” I whispered against his neck, hugging him tighter, inhaling the scent that disappeared from his T-shirt long ago. When he finally released me, we exchanged shy smiles.
Quin pointed to me. “Lex. First question. Go.”
“Do you have Augustus?”
His eyes widened in momentary astonishment. Then his poker face returned. “Yes.”
“Where?” I scoured the narrow stairwell.
Grinning, Quin shook his head. “Uh-uh. It’s my turn now.” I rolled my eyes but didn’t protest. “How did you know?” he asked.
“Easy,” I bragged, wrinkling my nose. “Pimento.”
Quin pointed to a room just inside the tower and answered my second question. “He’s handcuffed in there.” I stared at the small wooden door and listened to the profound silence. Not the way I’d imagined an ensnared Augustus would sound.
“Are you sure?”
He nodded, gesturing me over as he cracked the door. Augustus was secured to the railing, head hung down. Since I saw him last, he was thinner. His twig-like wrists seemed as brittle as pencil lead—his pothole cheeks, dark and sunken in. At the noise, he looked up, his eyes brightening. “Hello, Lex. It’s so nice to see you.” I lurched back at the sound of his voice, as if I was bitten. He never called me Lex, always Ms. Knightley or Alexandra. And his tone … it was soft, kind. Docile.
I raised my eyebrows at Quin.
“I’ll explain later,” he said as he ushered me out. Still in disbelief, I glanced over my shoulder. Augustus gave me a vacant smile and a childlike wave. “Bye-bye.”
“What’s wrong with him? How long has he been here?”
“Since just after Xander’s press conference. C’mon.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the stairs, but I resisted. I swallowed the question on the tip of my tongue. Can I trust you? My heart answered the way it usually did, but I couldn’t trust it either—not when it came to Quin.
“Where are we going?” We had been whispering until now, and my voice came out louder than I’d expected. In here, it echoed.
Alarmed, Quin spun toward me. He put his finger to his lips. “Where do you think?” he mouthed.
I shook
my head and spoke out loud again. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Quin grabbed my arm, securing me in front of him, my back to his chest. My breath hitched, heart jolting into my throat. With his hand over my mouth, he pressed his lips to my ear, and for a moment, I couldn’t tell whether I was terrified or exhilarated. “Lex, I’m being followed.”
I tried to speak. “Mmmnoh.”
By String. I know.
“Mmmnoh,” I said again into his palm.
He eased his grip, and I relaxed against him. “It’s safer up there. We can see what’s coming.” He paused, his breath marking time against my cheek. “Can I let you go now?”
I nodded. I was glad he couldn’t see my face. Exhilarated. Definitely exhilarated.
CHAPTER THIRTY - FIVE
DÉJÀ VU
“I’M HAVING SERIOUS déjà vu right now,” Quin teased as he opened the door to the observation deck. I followed behind him, tiptoeing over the boards he used to secure it.
I giggled. “You mean we’ve been here before?”
“Well, it was pretty forgettable.” He opened his arms wide and threw his head back, looking straight up at the sky. There was only a sliver of moon. The sky was velvet, a thousand stars winking at us through ancient eyes.
“The view or the company?” I asked.
He pretended to ponder my question, and I elbowed him playfully in the side. It felt strange—good, but strange—to joke with Quin. His laughter trailed off, his face solemn, and I wondered if he felt the same. I left him standing there, walked to the ledge, and looked out at the city. At first glance, it seemed just as deserted as the last time I saw it from up here. Quin pointed to a trail of slow-moving headlights snaking down a nearby street. At the front of the convoy was a police car flanked by a military jeep.
“Patrols,” he said.
I nodded, shivering, not just from the cold. “Seems familiar.”
“Too familiar.”
The longer I looked at the city, the more I saw. Behind night’s curtain, shadows moved with dark purpose. The more I saw, the more I heard. Was that a scream? Another gunshot? I had a flash of the Syndicate, rifle in hand, blindly firing out the window as Artos and I took cover. The doomed man’s eyes as he ran from certain death. Since the curfew’s inception, not one night passed without violence. And this night was no exception. That was Onyx, and it was out there. But so was Valkov, and I wasn’t sure which was worse. I watched the distant caravan of lights press on without pause. Quin was right—it felt safe up here.
I sat down against the wall, pulling my knees to my chest, shielding myself from the buffeting wind. Quin sat next to me. “So you have questions.”
“A lot of them.”
“I have answers.”
There were so many blanks I needed to fill, I wasn’t sure where to start. “What’s wrong with Augustus?”
Quin reached into his pocket and opened his hand to me. In it was a small vial of liquid, the trademark Z etched on its label. “Docil-E,” he said. “Xander’s new product. I’ve been dosing him every eight hours.” He glanced at his watch. “He’s due for another one pretty soon.”
“What does it do exactly?”
His brow furrowed, pensive. “That depends who you ask.”
“Well, I’m asking you.”
“Compliance. Obedience. Submission.” I immediately thought of Emma, the syringe protruding from her leg. Carrie’s analysis of the unknown substance made complete sense now.
“They tried to give it to Emma,” I told him. “That night on the bridge.” Quin seemed more disturbed than surprised. “And if I asked Xander? What would he say about it?”
“It’s a miracle drug. Ends violence. Promotes kindness. It even cures Augustus.” I let myself laugh, but I felt unsettled. Edison was right. Xander was up to something.
“Is that how you got him here?”
“Sort of. When I came back from L.A., I headed to the boat. It seemed like a logical place to stay, at least for a day or two.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “Imagine my surprise when I saw Augustus sunning himself on the deck. I figured he wasn’t there by accident. Anyway, I wasn’t sure what to do at first. Then the thing with Xander happened, and I realized Augustus might make a good bargaining chip. So I went back to the boat. It took a little convincing …” Quin held up the vial. “But he came around.”
“How did you get past the checkpoint?”
“Easy,” he mimicked my word. “I put him in the trunk of my brand new sports car.” When I didn’t ask, he added, “My thank you gift from Xander.”
Quin waited for my reaction, but I was stoic, thinking. “Then why did you bring Xander’s men to the boat? You knew Augustus was gone.”
“Exactly,” Quin said. “I thought Xander would trust me if he thought I was trying to help him find Augustus. Of course, I didn’t expect to have visitors.”
“Neither did I.”
“By the way, why was Augustus on our houseboat?” Quin asked. “Of all places?”
“Ours, huh? I didn’t think there was an ours anymore.”
“You know what I mean,” he said. “Besides, that was what you wanted.” True, I thought, but looking at Quin, it was nearly impossible to remember why.
“I had to keep him somewhere,” I told him. “We made a deal. I help him stay out of prison, and he helps me prove Xander and Valkov framed your dad.”
“So now you care about my dad?” I scrutinized Quin’s face in the dim light. He looked everywhere but at me. “Now you believe him?”
“Quin, you know that already.” He just stared straight ahead until I couldn’t take it anymore. I pressed my fingertips against his jaw, forcing his eyes to mine. “Do you?” I demanded. “Do you still believe him? Or is what you said in that ridiculous interview the truth?”
Quin took my hand from his face, holding it for a moment, before returning it to me. “What do you think?”
Exasperated, I exhaled audibly. “I’m not sure. Obviously. Or I wouldn’t be asking the question.”
He chuckled to himself. “I guess I’m a better actor than you thought.”
I groaned. “Remind me to give you your Oscar.”
Grinning mischievously, Quin took a half bow. “I’d like to thank the Academy, and—”
“Speaking of acting,” I interrupted. “I’m dying to know how you ended up saving the life of your mortal enemy.”
“It’s genius, right? I only wish I could take credit for the idea. My dad and I decided I should come back here, tail Xander for a while and hope he’d slip up. So we came up with the story about an argument between us. That night, I followed Xander to Zenigenic. I was waiting for him to leave, when I saw Radley. I guess it was just right place, right time, you know? The perfect chance to get on the inside. But I gotta say, I never expected it to work this well.”
Listening to him, a wisp of unease fluttered through me. “A little too well … ” I tried to put my finger on it. “Why is String tracking you?”
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “But I’m guessing it must have something to do with that picture of my dad Max found. Do you think he’s still working for Augustus?”
“Maybe.” Anything was possible when it came to Augustus. “But he knew Radley. He was there right before he jumped. He gave him Emovere.”
Quin’s mouth twisted, perplexed. “Weird.”
“Very.” I kept hearing String’s voice, smooth as honey, the night he lost Quin outside the tower. “I think he might’ve been following your dad too.”
“My dad? Why?”
“Well, the picture, of course, and something I overheard him say. He said you were harder to tail than—”
Suddenly, Quin turned toward me, his expression earnest, and I stopped talking. “Lex, I have to say something.” I nodded, barely breathing. “I’m sorry. About that awful interview with your dad, but not just that. I never meant to lie to you or keep you in the dark. I only wanted to protect you. That’s all I’ve
ever wanted.”
“I keep telling you not to do that.” I expected him to look away, but he didn’t. I broke first. My eyes traveled to his hands. They were planted firmly on his knees, unmoving. I found myself wishing he would touch me.
He shrugged. “Old habits die hard, remember?”
And I did remember. Old habits, some habits, don’t die at all.
CHAPTER THIRTY - SIX
BLUE AND RED
“WAKE UP.” It was Quin’s voice, and he was afraid.
I tried to find the thread to trace it back to the last thing I remembered, but I couldn’t get further than a dream—Quin’s arms locked around me, his face nuzzling my hair. I love you, Lex. It must’ve been a dream because when I opened my eyes, he was standing over me. And he was frantic.
“Get up!” He grabbed my forearm and pulled me to my feet so fast I felt light-headed. “The police are here.” Brain buzzing, I ran to the ledge and looked down just as Quin yanked me back. But not before I saw them. The base of Coit Tower flashed blue and red, blue and red.
I sank down to my haunches and buried my face in my hands. Breathe, Lex. “How long have they been there?” I asked, finally looking up.
Quin shook his head, disgusted with himself. “I don’t know. We fell asleep.” He paced to the wall and back again. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have asked you to come here. ”
“Don’t panic.” My words were meant for both of us. “We can’t even be sure they know we’re—”
“Alexandra Knightley.” The megaphoned voice traveled up from below us, finding and claiming me with its shrill insistence. “This is the police. Come out with your hands up.” In spite of my racing heart, I half smiled at the irony.
“You were saying … ” Quin deadpanned. I met his eyes and shrugged.
“Guess they finally figured out I’m not Emma.” He nodded, then hung his head. “Quin, it’s not the end of the world.” I walked to where he stood. “I’ll just turn myself in. They only want to question me, and I haven’t done anything wrong.”