Cornered: Episode Two of the Sister Planets Series Read online

  Norah crosses her arms. “Tell me you can’t be idiotic enough to think that’s an acceptable way for a government to operate.”

  I ignore the question. “Which of you is going to be on the inside with me?”

  Norah squints at me. “You’ll have us for outside support, but I have faith in your natural abilities to get this done right. I can tell you work better when you’re the one calling most of the shots.”

  Everyone in the room looks at her like she just farted.

  “What?” Esau asks, incredulous.

  Norah stands up. With her hands behind her back, she walks the room. “Strapping her down with a lot of instructions is only going to make her performance feel forced. I can tell she’s a good liar. Someone who can keep track of their deceptions and likes to do it, too.”

  I gulp.

  “I want to set her loose on these people and watch as she screws up their entire world. She’s the fox in the hen house. Our virus. Our Trojan Horse.”

  “I know you think you’re saying nice things, but they all sound bad,” I say.

  “I didn’t know we’d be so lucky when we picked you,” Norah says. “Any willing person would do, but you … you’ve got a fire that could burn the higher echelon of Michael Greenstreet’s cohort to the ground.”

  I set my coffee mug on the counter with a satisfying clank. “All right Norah, same question I asked these two goons. Why do you want Greenstreet dead? And don’t give me any shi— … I mean … crap … about justice and bringing down a system.”

  I shoot Jacob a glance. He rolls his eyes.

  I turn back to Norah. Her face switches from simmering happy to ice cold. Her eyes narrow to angry slits.

  “Come on,” I say with a coaxing smile. “I’m going to help kill this guy for you. The least you can do is tell me why.”

  Her face softens for a moment. “I think you of all people will understand when I say my life is mine and my choices are my own. If you can’t live with that, then you’re out of luck.”

  “No.”

  Now it’s her turn to look like someone farted. “Excuse me?”

  “I’ve been told multiple times since joining this circus that if I step out of line, I’m a dead woman. Despite that, you expect me to work with you when I don’t know what’s really going on? No. I’ve asked nicely. Tell me now.”

  “Tell you what?” Norah asks as she leans forward, biting off every syllable.

  “How is he controlling you?”

  She scoffs. “He’s not.”

  I stand up. “Norah, I’m not an idiot. Something else you all keep saying is that we want him dead for the same reasons. I want him dead because he’s controlling me. What is he doing that’s making you feel out of control?”

  The whole room is quiet. Mika looks shocked. Jacob looks tense. Esau looks mad. Norah looks cornered.

  That’s right, you clowns. I’m hella perceptive.

  “Fine,” she growls.

  Esau starts in. “Norah, you can’t—”

  “Esau,” she shouts, “you’re not someone who can tell me what to do. Shut up.” She points at both Mika and Jacob. “That goes for both of you, too.”

  Then her hawkish gaze is back on me. “If you want me to keep talking, it means you’re in this until the end. Whatever tiny possibility there was to back out is gone if I tell you what’s coming next.”

  I know proceeding is stupid. I know I should back down and admit I don’t really want to know. That’s what a normal person would do.

  But if there’s a never-ending constant in my life, it’s that I’m not normal.

  I look Norah in the eyes. “Tell me.”

  She pauses, always evaluating. Always calculating.

  Finally, she says, “Senator Michael Greenstreet is at the head of a movement bent on seceding the Earth states from the union. If he becomes vice president, he plans to cut off all ties with Mars, take control of USEM’s Earth defenses, and shoot down whatever envoys or warships that try to stop him. It’ll be the first time our country has seen civil war since the nineteenth century.”

  I can’t take my eyes off her. I need to hear what she says next. Surely, there’s more. Some good news. Some vital “but” that starts the sentence that tells me why that won’t happen.

  Instead, she says, “That’s why he can’t just be removed from office. That’s why we need to find that control room and kill him before he leads a charge that destroys this country.”

  She stands up and walks toward the exit. “You’ve got forty-five minutes before I have a hairstylist down here to make you look like you belong at a senatorial black-tie event. Pull yourself together. You’re on at seven o’clock.”

  Chapter 3

  The dress I’m wearing is blue, its neckline is nonexistent, and the corresponding heels have four-inch spikes. White, elbow-length gloves hide the gashes healing on my arms, and a necklace hangs from my neck made of spun gold so fine it would float away in a gentle breeze. Norah said I look elegant and older.

  I say I look like a fancy hooker.

  The car ride is giving me time to think about the senator. I’m floored that Greenstreet is a traitor. I knew he was a selfish pile of garbage, but not that kind of garbage.

  After Norah left, Esau explained that the situation isn’t quite as immediate as Norah made it sound. The idea of seceding is still an underground one, and lots of things have to happen before Greenstreet can think of pulling the plug on our democracy.

  But he made one thing clear: if Greenstreet is elected vice president, it’s not a matter of if this civil war happens but a matter of when.

  We turn into the long driveway that leads to the senator’s mansion. The gravel eventually stops crunching under the tires, and the car comes to a stop. The door opens, and I step out. I put on my confident face and stride up the long walkway.

  Mika is with me tonight as my muscle, dressed in a beautifully tailored gray suit. Neither of the brothers fit the part of paid protector. Esau can’t talk to people. Jacob’s physique is athletic, but it doesn’t shout, “I’ma kill you.”

  So even though I’ve only just met Mika, he and I are rocking it tonight.

  I feel the stares immediately. It’s like the part in that old DiCaprio film where the dream people realize Leo and Ellen don’t belong. These same four hundred people have been coming to these same parties for years. When a curvy brown girl and a giant tattooed man show up, they’re all going to notice.

  I stride up to the security detail. Most of the other guests walk right in. A few get frisked and their bags rummaged through. Nothing serious.

  Then we show up.

  “Scan,” the first security guard demands, pointing to a palm scanner sitting on a pedestal beside him. His chest and pasty-white arms threaten to tear through his children’s small T-shirt, and his trap muscles look like they’re trying to swallow the back of his head. He’s wearing funky glasses with one clear lens over his right eye.

  I can feel a small trickle of sweat slide down my back. I need to get in fast before the late August heat melts my makeup.

  “That won’t be necessary. I need you to go tell Senator Greenstreet that Maverick Martinique is here, and she wants a private audience with him before the party starts.”

  “I’m not going to tell you again. Scan.”

  I don’t speak for half a second, just like Mika and I had rehearsed. We knew this would happen.

  I remove all emotion from my face. “What’s your name?”

  “Why the—”

  “The lady asked you a question,” Mika growls. He’s lowered his voice a couple of octaves, and he sounds terrifying.

  The guard clenches his jaw. “Trevor.”

  I tisk. “I’ll do what you want, Trevor. Just know you asked for it.”

  I touch the scanner with my gloved hand. The thin fabric allows the device to read my palm through the fibers.

  The machine beeps. I watch Trevor’s face. His eyebrows raise, his jaw drops, and
he leans back.

  I smirk. “You gonna let me in now?”

  He regains his composure. “You’ll need to come with me.”

  I wink. “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.”

  In less than a second, I’m surrounded by four men dressed like Stupid Trevor. Mika steps right up behind me and puts one hand on my lower back.

  They walk us through the main entryway. My mind flashes to the blueprint readout Esau displayed from his fancy glasses back at Scarlet’s house. I also vividly remember the animation he showed me of the electrical defense grid frying an intruder. I take a deep breath and hold it until I’ve crossed the room.

  We’re taken to the left, which is not the way I go when I come to play for the senator. I’m weirdly excited about going to another part of the mansion.

  We go down a long hallway that looks like an art museum and up a flight of stairs. I hike up my dress as lady-like as I can and traverse the granite steps in my heels. Mika takes my hand, thank God. We take a sharp right and enter a room furnished with more paintings and a big tapestry.

  The four men don’t come in. It’s just me and Mika.

  Step one complete.

  Mika reaches over and places his hand on mine. This single tap is an inquiry into how I feel. I tap his hand twice to let him know I’m fine.

  I take a closer look at the tapestry. It depicts a beautiful olive-skinned woman with shimmering black hair. She reminds me of Naomi a little. Her eyes are closed, and she’s standing on a hill lit by pale light. The tapestry is framed in dark branches and thorns.

  Below her, sitting at the bottom of the frame, are three other figures. One is small and hunched over. The other is wearing a cloak. The third looks like she could be the other girl’s twin except she has no feet.

  It’s a weird piece. It doesn’t seem to fit in any kind of artistic epoch. If this were music, it would be like a mash between a dark classical piece, a folk song, and an electronic dance mix.

  The door opens behind us. My first, anxious instinct is to whip around and see who it is.

  I won’t do it, though. I know who it is, and I have the upper hand. I won’t look at him. He has to come to me. He has to earn my eye contact.

  I calm the muscles in my face, then attempt to look disinterested.

  “Well?” the senator barks.

  “You need to fire a security guard named Trevor. He’s a dick.”

  Is that a word a socialite would use? Eh, what’s done is done.

  I turn to address Greenstreet. He looks sharp in his tuxedo. Even his crooked nose goes with the look. It somehow makes him look mysterious instead of like he was in a bar fight. If he weren’t frowning, he’d be attractive.

  I keep my face impassive. “By the way, congratulations on sticking it out longer than Greyson. You’re a heartbeat away from running Earth’s states.”

  “Why do you have Don Merkatz’s number?” he asks, ignoring my statement.

  “Because he gave it to me.”

  “Why?”

  “That’s a discussion for another time. Until then, just know we’ll be seeing much more of each other.”

  “Why?”

  “So I can make sure his interests are carried out during your campaign.”

  My heart barely beats once before he’s on to the next item. “Why were you in the same house as a band of terrorists two nights ago?”

  I fake being insulted. “Those terrorists followed me, senator.”

  “Liar.”

  “Don told me to go dark when he died. My grandmother’s house was the safest place I could think to go. Somehow, whoever it was Don was worried about found me. They followed me to my safe house and tried to kidnap me. I couldn’t let that happen, so I blew them up.”

  “How did the trackers in your head turn off?” he counters.

  Oh no. How do I explain that? How the hell did we not talk about that?

  If I falter, he’ll know something is wrong. I trust myself and start talking.

  “Don gave me a device that would shut them off temporarily. I used it the second I found out he was dead. I knew they’d come back on while I was at Scarlet’s, and I hoped you’d still be keeping an eye on my signal in case it reappeared. Those terrorists figured it out and deactivated them again to kidnap me. But again, before they could do that … bang.”

  I turn my back to him again to look at the tapestry. I play it off as feigning disinterest, but I need to take a deep breath and give myself an internal high-five for coming up with that on the spot.

  “Who the hell do you think you are?” the senator shouts.

  I should be scared. He sounds royally pissed. But I’m not the struggling artist anymore. I’m not a second away from being on the streets. I have a number that makes me one of the most powerful people in the country.

  And my kill-switches don’t work anymore.

  I still don’t turn to face him. “Language, senator.”

  “Listen here, you ungrateful little bitch—”

  That word breaks something inside me. Every barrier that has kept me from being me for the last two years is gone, and I’m desperate to let him have it. This isn’t part of the plan, but I’ve waited so long for this moment.

  I whip around to face him, indignant rage swelling in my body.

  “No, you listen to me.”

  I point my finger at him and advance one slow step at a time. “O Fortuna” fires up in my head, the choir practically shouting as the music swells like an erupting volcano. My heels click on the marble floor as I stride toward him, channeling power I didn’t know I had.

  “I’m not some penniless pawn you can tell what to do.”

  Click, click go my heels.

  “You can’t manipulate me because you put tech in my head.”

  Click, click.

  “I’m somebody. Somebody with the power and resources of a man who can decide your future even when he’s dead.”

  Click, click.

  “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.”

  Click, click. I’m standing right in front of him.

  “Or what?” he asks in a low voice.

  We stare at each other.

  I break the silence, but not my eye contact. “I’m going out to that party and introducing myself to all your fancy friends. Not as the musician, but as an associate of the late Don Merkatz.”

  Click. I take one more step. We’re centimeters apart.

  His face isn’t shocked or angry. The moment I’d turned and faced him, he looked at me like I was a complex math problem or a challenging puzzle. He’s analyzing me, studying me. Life is a game for this man, and he’s looking for the winning move.

  I pull away. “I need to freshen up. Where’s the closest lady’s room? I’d prefer a private one.”

  Greenstreet shakes his head like he’s waking up from a dream. “Other side of the staircase. First door on your left.”

  I start for the door. Mika is close behind me. As I grab the doorknob, Greenstreet says, “You’re going to tell me how you and Merkatz are connected.”

  I give him a seductive look. “Come now, senator. Surely someone running for the most powerful position on this planet has the resources to figure that out himself. See you out there.”

  I walk through the door without looking back and head straight for the bathroom. Mika goes in before me. He comes back out thirty seconds later.

  “One camera, one microphone. Both are disabled. Make it quick.”

  I go in and shut the door. The room is simple. Just a toilet, sink, and mirror. Every fixture or decoration is either white or slate in color.

  I go over to the toilet, carefully bend to my knees, and vomit into the porcelain bowl.

  I pick myself up and go to the sink. I rinse out my mouth and look into the mirror. Norah had the makeup artist straighten my hair for the first time ever. No more ringlets and bounce. Every time I see myself, I’m shocked at how different I look. My round cheeks and the color of my eyes are t
he same, but everything else is different.

  My skin is smooth and my eyes pop dramatically with all the mascara and eyeliner. My lipstick is still a perfect apple-red even after throwing up. I don’t have to do much to get back to square one. I take a mint out of my clutch and pop it into my mouth as I walk out the door.

  I pat Mika twice on the arm. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 4

  Then the maid says, ‘In your sky yacht? How about sky not!’”

  I laugh at Congressman Villa’s joke. Not because I think it’s funny—I’ve already forgotten what the rest of the joke was about—but because I need to make a good impression. I need everyone to ask the senator at the end of the night, “Who was that delightful girl we were speaking with? She’s lovely. You must invite her back.”

  “Oh congressman, you’re too much,” I say as I touch him lightly on the arm.

  He keeps chuckling, but his stare lingers on my hand. I watch his eyes. He’s blinking rapidly like a man having a seizure. Camera implants.

  Pervert.

  A second later, he stops and looks me in the face.

  “Maverick, how is this the first time I’m meeting you? You’re lovely.”

  “Congressman Villa, you and I both know you’ll be remembering me night after night for some time.”

  His face turns a light shade of red. “Oh, come now.”

  I’ve schmoozed all night long, socializing among people with so much tech in their bodies they clank. This is the expensive stuff, too. Not just an implanted Resource Card or diodes for pain. I’m pretty sure most of these depraved old politicians have camera implants in their eyes just like Congressman Villa does. They look like a bunch of twitching idiots as they snap pictures of the people passing by them.

  The sad thing is they think they’re being discreet.

  Mika taps me on the shoulder. “I’m going to go stand in the back.”

  I turn and grabbed his arm. “If you leave me, I’ll kill you. And creatively, too. The police will marvel at what I do to your body.”

  He sighs, but smiles. He knows his presence is helping me out, and not just in terms of emotional support. He’s garnering almost as much attention as I am, since he’s enormous and the only bodyguard staying with their client. All the others have either been excused or are standing at the edge of the room.