Gravity (The Taking) (17 page)

I nod, wishing the knot in my stomach would go away, but with each day, I feel closer and closer to losing it. Dad isn’t giving me this card so I can learn. This isn’t part of my training. He’s passing along the torch, just in case he isn’t around to see this thing through. Little does he know, I would never go along with killing off the Ancients. It isn’t right.

I slide the keycard into my boot beside the trick knife and leave the Engineer building. I hop the first tron I see and wait for my stop, but three stops later I stand in the center of Landings Park in front of a row of apartments, all steel and stretching to the sky. I have no idea where to go from here. I consider phoning Gretchen to look up Jackson’s address, but she’ll ask too many questions. Just when I’m about to turn back, I notice that each building has a large letter etched into it like a name. This section is
H
through
J
. Three identical buildings are across the street—
K
,
L
, and
M
. Leave it to Parliament to stay organized.

I wait outside the main door, wondering if a guard will come or if it requires a special keycard, but after a minute or two, I edge closer and almost jump back in surprise as it opens. Weird. I’ve never been to a building that opened without a keycard. Inside, the building is all business, no composite carpet or tile here. The floor seems to be made of cement, the walls all steel, and the elevator is no different. I slip inside and glance stupidly at the floor numbers, unsure how I’ll find him, and decide I have no choice but to ask Gretchen. I send the message and wait, the elevator doors sliding open and closed every few seconds as though asking me to make up my mind. Finally, my phone beeps—
This is all kinds of crazy. 5C. Don’t get caught.

I shove the phone in my jacket pocket, press the fifth floor, and wait for the doors to reopen. Once on the floor, I ease down the hall, my nerves wound tight, and then tap 5C’s door.

The door opens and my heart stops. Jackson is sliding on a shirt, his abs still exposed, then his head peeks through the hole in the shirt and his eyes find mine. “Okay, not who I expected.” He steps out of the way and directs me inside. All thought drips from my mind and all I can do is watch as he smoothes out his shirt.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, I— Well, no, but…” I turn away from him so I can think and take my time examining the tiny apartment. They at least used composite flooring, though I can’t place what it’s supposed to look like. Not carpet; it looks harder than carpet, but it has a texture to it that isn’t common with composite hardwood or tile. A deep brown sofa sits against the back wall with a small T-screen to its right. There is only one window in the main room, cut into the wall across from me, and Jackson has the blinds closed, blocking the outside view. In front of the window is a small table and to the left an open kitchen that would fit inside my food pantry. A door breaks up the right side wall, which I suppose leads to his bedroom.

Bedroom.

Heat rises up my neck, and I wonder if I’ve made a stupid decision coming here. I can’t seem to think. I clear my throat and turn back to Jackson.

“The ball tonight is just so the leaders can get together. They’re planning to decide tonight what to do. Oh, and they’re researching xylem. Whatever they decide, they want to make sure xylem can’t heal it.” Jackson nods while I continue on with everything Cybil told me, even the part about how sure she is that we will win. When I’m done, he raises his arms, locking his hands behind his head. I’ve noticed he does this when he’s deep in thought, and I can’t help wondering what he’s thinking and how much of it, if any, he plans to share with me.

He doesn’t say anything for a long time, just finally stands, pointing to the clock beside his T-screen. “You need to get home. I’m sure everyone’s waiting for you.”

“Wait, aren’t you going to say something?”

“I’m not sure what to say. I need to think about it. I knew the ball was just to hide their meeting, but I haven’t thought out how we’ll listen in on it yet. By tonight I’ll have a plan. But you can’t help if you’re stuck at home. So”—he points to his door—“see you tonight.” He stands, and I can’t help feeling a little hurt. I’m not sure what I expected, but I hate his shadowed emotions, so obvious yet not detailed enough to reveal anything.

I edge to the door, trying not to look as pathetic as I feel. Jackson grabs my hand before I go. “Don’t worry. I know it’s a lot to take, but we’ll figure it out.”

I nod before heading out the door. I hope he’s right.

CHAPTER 18

When I arrive home, Mom waits on our front porch for me, her expression lethal. I’m torn between apologizing and acting like I’ve done nothing wrong. She stands as I step up the stairs, and without a word, she points for me to go inside. This is bad.

Dad is already home and looks as tense as I feel.

As soon as the door closes behind her, she whips around, jabbing her finger between the two of us. “I know you both seem to think you are immortals, somehow able to survive when others can’t, but I’m here to tell you that when I ask for Ari to come home after school, she is to come home right then, not a second later. Forget training. She is still underage, and I will not have you two pretending that she has the experience that those who have been doing this for years have! Now, we will all be leaving this house as a family in forty-five minutes.” She walks around us without another glance.

I release a long breath and turn to look at Dad, who just shrugs and follows Mom to their room to get ready.

What feels like hours of hair pulling and nail clipping and sucking in my breath so I fit into my dress later, I stand in the Cartier home, sipping a bubbling drink that tastes both sweet and sour. The sparkling bubbles rise to the top of the lavender liquid, burst once they reach the surface, and send alcohol pouring into the drink. It’s a clever way to ration alcohol based upon the age of the drinker. Around the room older guests’ drinks bubble continuously, while mine bubbles only on the rare occasion, like an afterthought.

I walk into the foyer, which could be a mini ballroom. Its massive size, crystal chandelier, and real marble flooring—not composite like the rest of ours—reveals the grandeur that is the Cartier name. As I’m staring into the twinkling chandelier, I hear someone enter and smile as Lawrence, dressed in a white tux and simple gold mask, bows in front of me. I wish I knew if Gretchen was watching. I don’t want her to see how he’s expected to act around me and think it’s real. Law’s feelings for me are only a result of expectation, but I know firsthand that actions can hurt, intentional or not.

“You are…” He takes my hand and brushes his lips against it. “Sinful.”

I glance down at my dress and give a half smile. It is spectacular. Golden bronze, strapless, with an empire waist. Draping that cascades in folds down to my knees. My hair is swept up into a messy array of loose curls, my makeup simple and enchanting, while a black feather and gemstone mask conceals my eyes. “The perfect blend of innocence and seduction,” Gretchen had said when she created the outfit.

He leans over to kiss my cheek just as the lights dim, saving me from figuring out a way to avoid the kiss. It’s time to attend the formal portion of the ball. We file into line by the elevators, again a Cartier perk, which lead to the belowground ballroom. There, we will enjoy more drinks and expected mingling.

Law guides me to the far left elevator. It closes before anyone else can enter. Mirrors surround us, so I’m able to see, really see, Law for the first time tonight. His dark brown hair, full and wavy, hangs over his forehead and ears in that perfect sort of way. He notices me staring and smiles, his teeth startlingly white against his olive skin.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I look down. I want to ask him about Gretchen but wonder if she would rather I not. Maybe they haven’t worked out their feelings and I don’t want to be the one to make it awkward between them. So, unsure of what to say, I just stare at him, remembering how it used to be—simple, easy. Even now, I feel so normal with him. Just me. I wonder if he, like Jackson, senses the changes in me. I avoided the topic at Jackson’s. I’m not ready to talk about what’s happening to me or what the changes suggest. For now, I have enough to worry about.

The elevator doors pop open, and we’re escorted into the atrium. It’s the shape of an octagon, with alternating silver and gold walls covered with ornate framings of past American presidents. The atrium leads to a grand marble staircase, sloping down into the main ballroom where hundreds of round tables, topped with the most expensive linens and silver available, circle the dance floor. From this view, we can see all the guests, all the splendor. I’ve been to these sorts of things before, but they were nothing like this. With the orchestra music playing below and so many eyes on us, for a moment I feel like royalty, like nothing is wrong with me.

Law smiles at the onlookers as we descend the stairs. I take the final step off the staircase and wish I could turn back. In front of me stand my parents, along with Alaster Krane, the European president, and to his right, his creepy son, Brighton. He’s the worst kind of guy. At last year’s ball, he got drunk, blurted out that I was too pretty to be a commander, and then smacked my backside. He didn’t expect what came next—a blow to the face.

I walk over to President Krane, intentionally avoiding Brighton, who seems fixed on staring at me until I look his way. My parents have yet to notice I’m here, but then they all turn and grin at Lawrence and me.

“Oh, there you are,” Dad says. “I’m sure you remember President Krane and Brighton.”

I nod to both of them. Brighton is handsome for sure, with his dark skin and equally dark hair. Too bad he’s a total lemur. I wish he’d bother the African heiress, who seems to appreciate his forwardness, and leave me alone. I scan the room for her, curious if she’s in attendance, and find her chatting it up with Qwen, the Asian heir. They’d make a nice couple…if international marriages were allowed.

Law and I stand post for another few minutes before the president and Brighton move to the next group of attendees. I release a long breath when they leave. The last thing I want to do tonight is hang around Brighton. I wait until they’re out of earshot and lean in to Law. “Where are the others?”

“No clue; time to eat.”

The lights dim, and we take our places. Law ends up sitting at the presidential table, while I meet my parents at one of ten Engineer tables. Murmuring starts around the room. The Ancients. The attacks. What we plan to do. Finally, President Cartier rises from her seat and moves to the front of the ballroom, preparing to address the crowd.

“Thank you,” she says as everyone quiets down to listen, “for joining us yet again for a celebration of food and dancing on this very important day. It is necessary that we remember why we celebrate. Remember, dear friends, peace is not a guarantee and humanity must always prosper. No matter the costs.” All eyes focus on President Cartier, all movement and noise cease. She stares with fierceness into the crowd, and then suddenly her face breaks into a wide smile. “Now, let’s eat!”

Dad clears his throat beside me, ignoring the gaze of the people at our table. Everyone in the crowd doesn’t miss whatever President Cartier meant by her speech—Dad knows. I switch my attention to Mom, whose hands are shaking in her lap. This isn’t good.

I search the crowd, curious if Jackson was invited as an Op trainee, and find him at an Engineer table three back from my own. His eyes burn holes into President Cartier, never leaving her. It must be hard for him to be in the same room as his mother, knowing she won’t speak to him, knowing she likely doesn’t even recognize him.

My gaze drops to my plate, and I glance up only when spoken to. Luckily, I’m not the only one mesmerized by the food. It’s as exquisite as the ballroom. Essence of butternut squash soup with a seared sea scallop. Fire-roasted corn cilantro and buttered leeks atop a lump crab cake. Roasted beet carpaccio with creamy goat cheese and aged balsamic. Grilled fillet of beef with caramelized red shallot, potato rösti, and white asparagus. Everything tastes amazing, and if I weren’t focusing on not throwing up, I might actually enjoy it. Finally, when I can handle no more, they bring the dessert.

I scoop the last bite into my mouth just as the lights flicker. The help enters to disassemble the tables and escort the older attendees to a lower level. This is it. The leaders will have the perfect opportunity to sneak off to meet without anyone noticing.

My eyes dart around for Law, and then Jackson, but both have disappeared. The meeting will start any minute, and it does me no good to get there after they’ve made the decision. I move through the crowd, keeping my eyes peeled. The lights dim and the band sets up at center stage. They look more rugged than usual. All leather—well, composite leather—clothes, purple-black hair, and a mix of silver and gold tattoos.

Drumbeats fill the air and the lights dim until we’re almost in the dark. Colorful lights flash across the room and most everyone rushes to the dance floor, their bodies causing shadows to dance across the walls. I strain to see around me, fearing Jackson and Law went to the meeting without me, when I feel someone touch my shoulder and I whip around to see Jackson, a finger to his lips. He points to the steps and motions for me to go left while he goes right.

I make my way around the crowd to the stairs, glancing behind me briefly before ascending to the top. When I get there Law and Jackson are standing close, their tones both hard, like they’re arguing. They shut up when they see me. “Try to be less obvious next time,” I say. “Care to share what you’re talking about?”

Law presses the elevator button. “We’ll explain later, right, Jack?”

Jackson shoots him daggers and says through clenched teeth, “Of course.”

There’s no time for me to push the issue, because we’re already exiting the elevator into Law’s house. He waves to the guard outside the elevator and then directs us upstairs, as though we’re going to his room, but as soon as we’re out of sight, he dips left, leading us to a door at the end of the hall. He slides his keycard, and the door opens to another set of stairs. We slip into the open room just inside the door and wait as the door clicks closed. The stairwell is tight, barely enough room for two people to stand side-by-side. It drops one flight, then there’s another open room like the one we’re in with two doors, one to the right and the other to the left. I assume they lead to the main level, but there’s another flight of stairs that shoots down from that landing, and where it goes I’m not sure.