Fox Forever (7 page)

The Bot seems to know all the information Carver supplied in my application to the Collective. He’s aware that this is my first visit to the Somerset Club, telling me where various rooms are that I might need, and also telling me some history on the Somerset Club itself including its many uses and renovations over the centuries. He reminds me of Dot in that respect, always part tour guide. I watch politely as he points out Venetian tapestries, carved rosewood balustrades, and elaborately framed oil paintings of old, long-dead members on nearby walls. The place smells of aged wood, polish, and plenty of money.

“The gathering is in the room at the top of the stairs to the left at the end of the hallway. If I can be of any further assistance, sir, please let me know.”

“Thanks.”

He makes a slight bow and steps back into an alcove to await the next arrival.

I walk up the stairs, already hearing murmurs and music and an occasional excited shout. Or were those screams? Halfway down the hallway, I stop, examining all possible exit routes—the way I came, another hallway that leads to unknown parts, and a third-floor stained-glass window—only a desperate exit option. I take a step toward the unknown hallway.

“Can I help you?”

I turn slowly, making an effort not to jump at the unexpected voice, and see a tall thin man with protruding cheekbones looking like he’s more skeleton than skin. It’s LeGru. I recognize him from the file photos. He’s the Secretary’s right-hand man who Livvy warned me about. He slithered up on me as quietly as a snake, seemingly out of nowhere. What’s he doing here at a student gathering? Or maybe the club is used for other purposes as well? I mask my recognition with a confused smile. “Actually you can. It’s my first time here, and I just want to make sure I’m going to the right place—the Virtual Co—”

He cuts me off, pointing back to the end of the hallway with a long, bony finger. “Over there. You were headed in the right direction.” He smiles, a pasty tight-lipped smile. “You should trust your first instincts.”

I nod. “I usually do.” I look at him, forcing a more genuine smile than he offered me. “Thank you.” Livvy was right. This guy is trouble and I don’t need to study his face to figure that out. He wears it like a badge of honor. I turn and walk to the end of the hall, feeling his gaze on my back. I resist the urge to turn around again to see if he’s still watching as I walk through the doors.

The blast of noise masks my entry. I’m surprised to see that the room resembles a modern nightclub, a stark contrast to the revered antiquity of the rest. Music blares and the large dark cavern has colored accent lighting to highlight perimeter areas. Groups of students crowd the edges, either standing in tight circles or sitting together on tufted benches that bend in half circles. There’s a large dance floor in the middle of the room with only four people on it doing something that doesn’t appear to be dancing at all—rigid tight movements that look more like spasms than a dance. None of this is exactly what I expected for a student gathering. Steps lead to another level at one end of the room that overlooks the dance floor and has more students sitting at tables and drinking. Even though there are several groups standing at arm’s length from me, none move to acknowledge my presence. If I ever felt like an outsider, it’s now, but somehow I must find a way to fit in—and fast. I spot a refreshment table over against the far wall and head for it. I’m halfway across the room when a boy stumbles out of a group and into me. He falls to the floor, nearly taking me with him.

He rolls over and looks up. “Sorry, friend, I…” His eyes spin and he forgets what he was saying. I reach out a hand to help him up, deciding it will be wise to choose my refreshments carefully.

“No problem,” I tell him. “It’s dark in here and I probably got in your way.” He laughs, apparently cognizant enough to find humor in the bending of facts in his favor. I pull him to his feet and turn him back in the direction he came from, but as I walk away I notice the music has stopped, the dance floor has cleared, and every face has turned my way, following me as I walk to the refreshment table. I try to pretend I don’t notice. I’m not sure if they’re staring because of the kid who stumbled into me or because I’m a stranger who doesn’t look like the rest of them. Maybe I’m standing out too much.

Thankfully, when I reach the table the disturbance is forgotten and the music and rumble of conversations resume. I sniff a sweet white liquid that smells safe enough, but I don’t take a chance and pour myself a glass of water instead. Who knows what kinds of banned substances these students have snuck in. I don’t want to end up flat on the floor like the kid I just helped up. I lean against the wall, observing the crowd, and try to casually scour the room for Raine. At first I think she isn’t here, but I finally look up and see her standing on the opposite end of the second level with a small group of friends—and she’s looking straight down at me. It’s the restrained Raine who’s here tonight, her black hair pulled back in a tight ponytail, her clothing a dull gray from head to toe. But as hard as she tries, she’s not expressionless. I see the bare hint of a condescending gaze. Charm
her
? Good luck. I smile at her, giving it my best shot. She looks away.

Fine. Have it your way. But you aren’t going to like Plan B.

I don’t really like Plan B either. I grab a handful of nuts from the table and head for the steps to the second level. I slip through the crowd and walk straight toward her. I don’t have time to waste. If I can’t charm her, I’ll work on her friends. I have to find a way in. I step up to their group of five. Raine, two other girls, and two boys.

“Hi. I’m Locke Jenkins. New to Boston—and all of this.”

Raine doesn’t respond. She just looks down at the torn knees of my pants and then away. The blond girl next to her smiles. “I heard there was a new guy in the Collective. We rarely get new blood. I’m Vina.” She holds out her hand, the backside of it up, like I’m supposed to kiss it. I’m caught off guard. I missed this lesson on social graces, but since I don’t know what else to do I take her hand in mine and lightly kiss it.

“A pleasure, Vina.”

The group’s eyes widen and I know I’ve missed the mark, but Vina giggles and seems pleased.

“And you are?” I say to Raine.

“Bored,” she replies. She begins to look away again but I don’t give her a chance to disengage.

“Not having fun?”

She’s a piece of work. She blinks her eyes at glacial speed. “This is a requirement of the Collective. Do I look like I’m having fun?”

“Dance?” I grab her hand and pull. She doesn’t budge, but there’s a brief moment of surprise on her face. It’s a relief to see any expression there at all, but just as quickly she gives me a very firm and deadly, “No,” and shakes my hand loose. From behind her shoulder I see a large Bot rapidly approaching us. He’s taller than me and his skin is rigid metallic gold. Even his eyes are gold and he has no pupils at all. He looks like he’s been extruded from one solid chunk of metal. He steps around her and grabs me by the throat, lifting me off the ground so we’re eye to eye.

“Never lay a hand on the Secretary’s daughter unless you would like your hand permanently removed. Do you comprehend?” I claw at his grip, unable to respond.

“Hap! I have it under control! Put him down!”

Hap drops me and I land on my feet coughing. I put my hands up indicating I’m backing off. “No problem, pal—she’s all yours.”

I turn to her friend, trying to rescue the situation. “Dance?”

Vina’s shoulders rise in a happy gush. “I’d love to.”

I shoot a disgusted glance at Raine as we leave and I’m happy to see what I think is irritation on her face. At least it’s something.

When Vina and I reach the dance floor, I look at the upper level and see that Raine’s watching us. Vina grabs my shoulders, her arms board stiff, and begins making the spastic dancing movements I had seen earlier. I’m in trouble. I don’t know how to do these moves. With all the things Gatsbro taught us in our year at the Estate, modern dance was not part of our studies. I reach out and put my hands on Vina’s waist and sway to the music instead, periodically glancing up to see if Raine is still watching. She is. Just beyond her I see the gold muscle-head in the corner probably still ready to dismember me, but then something much more interesting catches my eye.

Sitting in the shadows at a table is the Secretary. He’s chatting with LeGru, who must have entered another way. The Secretary finishes his drink with a quick backward movement and rises, whispering something to Hap. He’s not an easy read, cautious with his lip movements, but I make out,
Leaving for the night
. He disappears through a door on the second level, followed by LeGru. I see other adults on the upper level so he wasn’t the only parent here, but I suspect he’s the most intimidating. As soon as he leaves the volume in the room rises and I notice more people coming out on the dance floor.

“Locke?”

I look back at Vina. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“Where’d you learn to dance this way?”

“Oh. This? I can’t remember. I guess it’s kind of old-fashioned.”

“No, not at all,” she says. “But it is strange. I like it! Show me!”

The music changes to a slower beat and I slide my hands around her back, pulling her a little closer. “Well, you just—”

“Excuse me. I need to speak with Mr. Jenkins. Do you mind, Vina?”

Raine cuts in. No one is more surprised than me. “I don’t think so,” I tell her. “I don’t want to lose a hand.”

“I’ve spoken to Hap.” She stands there waiting like I’m a huge jackass for even mentioning it.

I look at Vina and shrug. “We’ll dance more later?”

She nods and smiles but aims an annoyed roll of the eyes at Raine before she walks away.

I turn to Raine, leery of touching her first. “You sure?”

She grabs my shoulders, her arms stiff, keeping me at a distance. I don’t put my hands on her waist. “So, what kind of clothes are
those
?” she asks.

“Regular ones.”

“You don’t think much of social codes?”

“Ones that matter.”

“I see.” She bites her lower lip, all orchestrated affectation, like she’s really contemplating my words. “Does that include peeping at girls in the middle of the night?”

The charm is punched out of me. Busted. That’s why she was staring at me. She saw me last night. Going on the offensive is my only save. “You own the park?”

“Yes, for the most part.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “The truth’s a bitter pill,” she says. “Don’t look so put out.”

Put out? Hardly. I study her, trying to figure out what she wants. Her face is hard. Each plane a mask, hiding something beneath. She closes everyone out. I think my chances with Vina were better, but then, her father isn’t the Secretary who has the information we need.

I shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“So your mother lets you walk the streets of Boston in the middle of the night?”

“And your father lets you straddle rooftops?”

She glances over her shoulder to where the Secretary had been sitting.

“He’s gone,” I say.

She looks back at me. Her eyes are large worried pools of deep brown, soft and beautiful, but her pupils are the tight hard circles from the photos. Something inside of me catches. Is she frightened of her own father?

“I won’t tell anyone,” I whisper. Her hands relax on my shoulders and I reach out and try to pull her closer like I did with Vina so we can really dance.

She vacillates between stepping forward and pulling back, both of us acutely aware of my hands on her waist, a moment that seems to stretch on forever, and then she jerks away from me. “Never come to my park again. Capiche?”

She stands there waiting for a response to her ridiculous order with her hands on her hips and her brows raised like I’m her dense gold-headed Bot.

Capiche?

Lesson two: Restraint. Restraint, Locke. Don’t blow it. Don’t let her push you.
But something else inside of me speaks up. I’m not a Bot or her lackey. I’m not anyone’s lackey.

“I don’t speak Italian,” I finally answer, my tone thick with ice.

She hesitates for only a second before rage flashes across her face and she turns and walks away.

A Pig’s Eye

I walk down the steps to the PAT station. I’m not ready to go back to the apartment.

Her park? Capiche?

I’m livid. At myself. At her. I want to break something. Maybe my own bonehead. I didn’t let Carver push my buttons when he asked about my past. Why did I let her push them? Yes, something about her is dangerous. And incredibly annoying.

I hope Xavier doesn’t try to call me tonight but I know he will.
Did you charm her? Are you in?
What will I tell him? Is there any way I can salvage this? Vina took an interest in me, but Vina won’t open the doors I need. Even if she gets me into their small group, that isn’t going to get me close to the Secretary.

The PAT pod opens and I step in. “Ashmont,” I say.

“Not a valid destination.”

How can Ashmont not be a valid destination? But I don’t care where I go. Anywhere away from here is fine. “Jackson Square.”

“Not a valid destination.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Not a valid destination.”

“Copley Square!”

The hatch closes and the pod takes off. I try to focus on the speed, the lights, the thrill, but none of that feeling is with me now. I redirect three times and exit as I’m required, still feeling just as ready to blow as when I started. I’ve walked two blocks before I realize I’m not even sure where I’ve ended up.

The skin of my palm ripples. The iScroll is alerting me to a message. I don’t answer. Whoever it is, Xavier, Carver, or Livvy, they’ll have to wait. It ripples again a minute later. I swipe the iScroll, and yell, “Off!” The iScroll goes silent and disappears, the tattoo invisible in my palm. I imagine Percel cowering somewhere in my hand, wondering what set me off.

I look around for a street sign, trying to figure out where I am, but there are none. I sit down on the steps of a nearby stoop and lean forward, running my hands through my hair, staring at my scuffed boots. How could I let her rattle me so much? Something about her gets under my skin.