Numbered: Episode One of the Sister Planets Series Page 3

  I expect to see Painted Face come up beside him, but I see a young woman instead.

  “Well, well, well. Look who decided to wake up. You’ve got some explaining to do, chica.”

  She wears tactical boots, but she’s posed like she’s in Stilettos. Her bulky black cargo pants do nothing for her figure, but she may as well be in a cocktail dress the way she stands in them. Her black tank top shows off her muscular arms. Her dark hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and somehow it’s a striking choice.

  The fact she’s a striking woman isn’t what makes me immediately hate her. It’s her insufferable smirk.

  She bends down in front of me and rips the tape from my mouth. I yelp. She slaps me.

  “You make a fuss, pendeja, and I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”

  I want to rip her face off with my teeth, but I decide it’s better to scowl.

  Hispanic Tactical Barbie stands up, and Esau bends down in front of me. I can smell him now. No cologne. That surprises me. People who are put together like him usually have a signature scent. I only pick up a hint of tangy body odor.

  He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a palm scanner.

  Damn it.

  “Touch it,” he says.

  “It’s not mine,” I mutter, afraid to speak too much in case Tactical Barbie decides to hit me again.

  “What isn’t?”

  “The number,” I say in a panic. “I don’t know how it got changed. I didn’t bribe anyone or do anything illegal. I swear.”

  He tucks the glass into his jacket pocket. “Does anyone else know?”

  “No,” I lie.

  Tactical Barbie reaches over Esau and pulls me up by the front of my shirt. “Not even that old lady next door? Chica, you better not lie to me, or I’ll—”

  Esau grabs her hand. We’re all an awkward tangle of arms, legs, and zip ties crouched on the floor.

  “Naomi, calm down.”

  Naomi lets go of my shirt. Esau turns back to me.

  “I’ll ask again. Does anyone else know about this?”

  “My next-door neighbor.” My chest tightens with emotion, which surprises me. Feeling bad about tattling on Ms. Niemeyer is unexpected.

  “Anyone else?”

  “No.”

  “Where were you going when you ran from your apartment?”

  I want to lie, but Naomi’s face reminds me it isn’t a good idea. I choke down the untruth my brain has yet to fully develop and say, “Senator Greenstreet’s house.”

  Naomi mutters something under her breath, but neither looks surprised.

  “Are you two friends?” Esau asks.

  “No.”

  “Then why go to him?”

  I bare my teeth and feel my nostrils flare. “I’d be safe there, ok? You sure do ask a lot of questions.”

  Esau stands. “It’s a good thing we caught you. If you’d gone to Greenstreet, it would have caused all sorts of problems.”

  The door opens, and someone rushes in. Even without the face paint, I can tell it’s the same guy who drugged me in the back of the yellow Scion. Same muscular frame, same dark skin, same huge hands.

  He still wears all black, but this time it’s a pair of cargo pants like Naomi’s and a black T-shirt. He isn’t wearing a hat, so I can see he has neatly cut hair. Low maintenance and close to the scalp. He’s younger than I originally thought. He may only be a few years older than me.

  “Esau, they’re here,” he says. “We need an answer. Is she going to be helpful?”

  Naomi turns to face him. “We don’t have to worry about her. She’ll do what we want.”

  “What makes you sure of that?” I snap.

  Naomi turns to me and gives me that infuriating smirk of hers. “Because if you help us, you’ll get to kill Senator Greenstreet.”

  7

  I do my best not to look too eager. “What makes you think I’d want to help kill a senator? Especially one running for vice president?”

  “It wasn’t until I saw the look on your face a second ago. You obviously wouldn’t mind it if he was dead.”

  Damn it.

  Esau butts in. “Besides, he won’t win the nomination. Governor Greyson is too popular. Every poll has him ten points ahead. Your reluctance to help Greenstreet is good. If you wanted to protect him, we’d be having a different conversation right now.”

  “Why would I want to protect him?”

  Naomi lets out a laugh. “Girl, cálmate. We get it. You don’t like the guy.”

  I take a breath and settle down. “Why do you all want to kill him?”

  No one speaks. Then Painted Face says, “A lot of the same reasons you do, probably.”

  Doubtful. I’ll push the issue later. “What makes you think you have a chance at pulling this off?”

  Painted Face walks over and pulls a knife from his pocket. He flips open the blade and bends down right in front of me.

  “Before you, our chances weren’t good. Now, though …” He reaches out and cuts the zip ties around my wrists and ankles. “Now, they’re much better.”

  I rub my arms. “Why? Because you think I’m buddies with him?”

  “Sure seems like it. You two an item?”

  I reach out and slap him. Painted Face turns back to me and stares, a red handprint raising from his ebony skin. I see Esau and Naomi in my peripheral vision. Naomi looks like she watched someone die, and—for once—Esau has an expression on his face other than complete ambivalence.

  “I’d rather die,” I say with all the grit I can muster.

  Painted Face still hasn’t said anything. The silence makes my chest hurt.

  “You really don’t like him, do you?”

  It’s a stupid question, so I don’t respond.

  “Well,” he continues, “we’re going to give you the opportunity to get some revenge for … whatever he’s done to you.” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Jacob.”

  “Maverick. Call me Mav.” I don’t take his hand and stand up on my own.

  Jacob smirks, sighs, and puts his hand in his pocket. “This is my older brother, Esau, and our associate, Naomi. I’m sorry we’ve been rough on you tonight. It was really important you didn’t fall into the wrong hands.”

  “How do I know I haven’t?”

  Naomi scoffs. “Does it matter if you can help kill Greenstreet?”

  Touché, Barbie. Touché.

  Esau walks to the other side of the room. “Let’s go. They’re waiting.”

  I watch him as he walks over to the side table where he and Naomi had been standing earlier. He picks up a compact flashlight, which turns out to be the only source of light in the room. It dims when his fingers touch it.

  He also picks up a pair of fashionable glasses and tosses them to me.

  “Put these on.”

  I do and follow him out of the pristine bedroom into a disheveled and dilapidated hallway. The tattered Victorian décor gives the place a haunted castle vibe. As we walk, the sound of a fire and the smell of smoke fill my nostrils. Orange light flickers up ahead, and we turn into an enormous dining hall lit by a barrel fire. Gathered around it are a group of people in deep discussion. No one sees us enter.

  Jacob clears his throat, and everyone turns.

  “Members of The Red Hand, may I introduce you to Maverick Martinique.”

  8

  Everyone nods to me. One white lady pushes her way to the front, though I can barely tell the color of her skin under all the grime and soot. I can tell she’s crazy: Chilean poncho, frizzy gray hair, Coke-bottle glasses, intrusive and manic green eyes.

  “Did it work?” she asks.

  Esau speaks up this time. “Yes. The number transfer worked.”

  The woman whoops and twirls in a circle. She hurries over and embraces me. “Gawd be praised! Thank ya Jesus! Redemption is nigh!”

  I stand awkwardly as this woman continues to hug me. She smells weird, and her hands are doing a stroking thing on my back. I turn to Jacob and grimace.r />
  “Ok, Auntie. She gets it. You appreciate her. Let her breathe.”

  Auntie lets go, but not before reaching up and cupping my face. “You’re doin’ a mighty fine thing here, child. A mighty fine thing.”

  I should be more receptive to her compliments, but I can’t get past how dirty she is. Filth covers any skin I can see. I cringe at the thought of her hands touching my face.

  She lets go of me and walks back to the barrel fire. Standing around it are ten other people in various degrees of dishevelment. Some look as sharp and put together as Esau, others not so much. None look as bad as Auntie, but it’s obvious that some of them are living in poverty.

  “Why her?” one of the men comments. His proud nose and judgmental eyes clash with his threadbare jacket and pants.

  “She’s his favorite musician,” Jacob says. “From what we’ve observed, she goes to the senator’s house at least once a week to entertain guests.”

  “How does this help?” The Nose asks. “A small army of people come in and out of his mansion who have higher status than a musician.”

  Esau speaks this time. “Status isn’t necessarily what we need. We need someone close to the senator and someone the staff trusts, too. The people who work at the mansion will have some of the information we need.”

  They want me to probe the staff? Interesting.

  “We looked at every viable option,” Esau continues. “She’s the best Trojan Horse we have.”

  “And she’s all right with this?” The Nose asks.

  Jacob crosses his arms and nods. “Mav’s been incredibly receptive to helping us oust the senator.”

  “Kill,” I say. “You said kill.”

  Jacob smirks. “We’re all following pretty well, but thanks for clearing that up.”

  Heat rushes to my face. I start to fiddle with the glasses Esau gave me, but I stop and clench my hands into fists instead. If these people are going to let me help kill Senator Greenstreet, I have to convince them I’m not some silly musician from the streets.

  And Jacob is playing along. He smiles at me, mouth full of charisma and eyes full of disobedience.

  I like this brother.

  A commanding voice from the back of the room speaks up. “If you’re keen to kill Greenstreet, why haven’t you already? Surely you’ve had the chance.”

  I do a double take as the woman speaking steps forward. Not because she’s ravishingly beautiful, but because she has the most striking aura I’ve ever come in contact with. Her deep black skin is aged, but in a timeless and impressive kind of way. She’s proud, but not like The Nose guy is proud. He’s holding on to his tattered ambitions the same way he holds on to his shabby clothes—desperately. This woman’s pride isn’t something she owns. It’s a part of who she is.

  She’s a queen.

  She walks toward me with her hands behind her back, her heels clicking on the floor. Her red skirt and jacket make her look like one of those lawyers from the old Net shows. She doesn’t blink as she moves closer, circling me like a hawk would a scared jackrabbit.

  “Playing for the senator is how I survive,” I answer. “My livelihood. I’m not going to give that up unless something better comes along. Besides, he’s become too high-profile since he started his stupid bid for vice president.”

  The Queen squints at me. The corner of her mouth moves up a fraction of an inch. She’s testing me. Seeing what I’m made of. This is my audition.

  “How do I know you aren’t one of the senator’s spies?”

  Esau jumps in for me. “We did a full body scan. No wires, contact lens transmitters, or implants we weren’t expecting. We deactivated the tracking capabilities of the ones in her ears, but it's too dangerous to remove them.”

  My hand flies up to my scar before I can stop it. “You know about those?”

  “Like I said, full body scan. I’ll admit, I thought they were tracking devices at first. It’s much more advanced than that, though. Looks like a kill-switch. Correct?”

  “That and worse.”

  Esau’s face scrunches. “What’s worse than a kill-switch?”

  “For a musician? Losing your hearing.”

  Everyone in the room gasps.

  Jacob’s struggling with what I just said, almost as if he’s trying to translate it. “He was going to … leave you deaf … if you, what? Misbehaved?”

  “Essentially.”

  The Nose scoffs. “All of that? For the musician? Why on Earth and Mars would the senator go to the trouble of subjugating a musician like that?” He shakes his head, crosses his arms, and sticks his giant schnoz in the air. “She has to be a spy. Or at least more than a musician.”

  The Queen scowls and turns to The Nose. “For God’s sake, Nathan, you don’t need to know all the details. That’s not what this meeting is about. Greenstreet does that to every member of his staff that I can tell. Even the gardener. I vetted her myself. She’s safe. Be supportive, and shut up.”

  An awkward silence envelops the room. I can’t take it. I turn to Esau. “I hope to God you made it so he can’t push a button from his couch and fry my brain.”

  “The devices in your ears are shut off, but the way they’re attached makes them impossible to remove without surgery. Besides that, you’re clean. If you were a government spy, you’d be riddled with enhancements.”

  Jacob lets out a little laugh. “If she were a spy, she would’ve been dead a long time ago.”

  Before I can say anything in retaliation, The Queen says, “Explain.”

  “Norah, she used her new number to buy vending machine food and a ride to the senator’s mansion. Deep cover spies don’t make dumb choices like that.”

  I’d like to argue with him, but he has a point.

  Norah seems appeased, too. “Let’s capitalize on this. Worst case scenario, we all die. Get Ms. Martinique up to speed. We have to act fast.”

  “How fast?” Nathan The Nose asks. Everyone else seems to be thinking the same thing.

  “Tomorrow fast,” Norah says.

  A shrill beeping interrupts her. I turn to see Esau tap his watch, then touch the side of his glasses. The beeping stops, and his jaw tightens.

  “Something’s tripped a perimeter alarm. They know we’re here.”

  The Queen and five others instantly vanish. I’m shocked, but then I realize what the glasses are for. Those people weren’t actually here. These are mixed-reality specs.

  Everyone who is physically in the room scatters.

  Jacob grabs my arm, and we run. We pass through a darkened doorway and into a lobby of some kind. I try to keep up, but Jacob is practically dragging me through the building.

  “Let go of me,” I say through gritted teeth. I twist my arm from his grasp.

  Esau’s voice echoes from behind us. “Where are we going, Jacob?”

  I look behind me and see him and Naomi close on our heels.

  “Jacob!” Esau shouts again.

  Jacob doesn’t respond, but I can hear him muttering under his breath. “No, no, no, no ...”

  We pass through a series of rooms and doors faster than I can process what they look like. I get the feeling we’re moving down into the building as opposed to directly through it. Then we start going up flights of stairs. My legs burn. I haven’t moved this much in a long time.

  “Where are we going?” I pant.

  “Let me think,” Jacob says.

  “You don’t know?” Naomi shouts.

  “Will you shut up for a second and let me figure this out?”

  “Where are we?” I ask.

  “Independence. East off 291.”

  I grin. “I’ve got a place.”

  “Is your place close?”

  “Yeah, we’re close.”

  We walk through a door and into an empty department store. We hurry to the front, but Esau stops us before we go out the door.

  “Hold on a moment. I need to disable any surveillance before we walk outside. And give me those.”

&
nbsp; He snatches the glasses off my face, then reaches into his pocket and pulls out a round metal disc. He presses a button in the middle.

  “Nice toy, James Bond.”

  “Who?”

  “James Bond?” I ask, thinking he must not have heard me. “The British guy from the Net shows?”

  “Is he a scientist or something?”

  I turn to Naomi for support. “Back me up, here. You know who I’m talking about.”

  Naomi’s face wrinkles up as if she’d watched me transform into a giant turd. “You think I have time to watch British movies?”

  “Wow. Forget I mentioned it. Can we go now?”

  “Not yet,” Esau says. We wait ten long seconds, then he waves us forward.

  We step outside onto an empty plaza. A dilapidated hotel rises into the night sky from across the street, its broken windows like the wicked teeth of some mangy two-dimensional animal.

  It’s quiet. There isn’t even a breeze. All I can hear is the four of us trying to catch our breaths and the cicadas screaming their summer song in the background.

  I look at Jacob. He’s collected, but worry tugs at the corners of his eyes. His lips are set, not relaxed like before. I turn to Naomi, who looks pissed. Esau’s face is impassive.

  I notice a set of blinking lights in the night sky. They sit over the buildings across the street and hover a thousand feet above our heads.

  “What’s that?”

  Everyone looks, but it’s Esau who speaks first. “Midge drone. Run.”

  Both brothers grabs me by an arm, and we take off sprinting. Naomi is just ahead, her boots pounding the pavement.

  We don’t make it one hundred feet before a whistling noise sounds from behind us.

  An explosion throws me forward.

  9

  A wave of heat accompanies the blast. I hit the ground, forearms first. My feet fly over my head, then my hips and legs hit the asphalt.

  I let out a panicked grunt, roll over, and struggle to regain my footing. Jacob helps me up. He has a wicked looking scrape on his forehead, but otherwise he’s unharmed. The intense heat forces us to flee down the street.