Torn (Lords of the City #1) (12 page)

Wrapping myself in a blanket, I went into the front room, frightened by the ferocity of the wind. I wasn’t alone. Julia sat on the couch, sheltered in her own blanket.

“I’ve never seen it so bad,” she said. “We get windstorms, but not like this.”

At the window, I looked down upon the street. Litter was tossed around by the gales, rising almost as high as our apartment. Branches from the trees that lined the street shook, releasing their foliage all over the ground. I wouldn’t be surprised if, come morning, some of those trees had toppled over.

“I’ll make us some cocoa,” I decided. “I know it’s not the season for cocoa, but it’s comforting.”

“I won’t argue with you there,” Julia said. “Cocoa sounds perfect right now.”

An hour later, we still sat in the front room, our mugs empty, the electricity of the storm and the roar of the wind making it impossible to sleep.

“How is the new department going?” I asked her.

Her eyes lit up. “Wonderful. They really respect me, and it’s such a joy to actually be able to apply my degree. I have a lot to offer, and now I get to do just that.”

“Have you talked to Mr. Stafford?”

“No. I told you, once you’re gone, you mean nothing more to him. How is it going for you up there all alone?” she asked with concern.

“I’ve got Peter, but it’s lonely without you. Thankfully, Mr. Stafford and I’ve reached some sort of homeostasis. He messages me when he needs something, and I get it done. It’s a strictly professional relationship. If I’m being totally honest, I kind of miss the friendship that we were starting to build.”

Julia tapped the side of her mug. “In an effort to be a truly supportive friend, I feel I should say something to you. If you ever did want to extend your agreement with Mr. Stafford, I won’t judge you. How could I judge you? I understand the enticement of it all, especially when you’re new to the city.”

I bristled a bit. “I’ve lived in the city before.”

“But not this one. And you know there’s more to the agreement than just the lessons he tries to teach you. When you agree to be loyal to him, he treats you like a queen. On one of our dates, he took me to a Red Sox game in Boston, and I got to meet the players.”

I appreciated Julia telling me that. I would never admit to her, but my intrigue of all the promises Noah made had not diminished. My darker, more sensual side was being drawn out by him, and he had barely even touched me. With his perfect body and his designer suits and his fast lifestyle, he was hard to resist. As the days passed, I began to wonder if he was right when he claimed the ultimate freedom was to live without the burden of choice, no longer tormented by insecurity or indecision.

“So when did nerds get so good-looking?” Julia asked, changing the subject before it got awkward. “I went down to analyze the market value of a new unbreakable beaker for high school science labs, and man did I choose the wrong department. Lab technicians are hotties.”

“That’s because they’re all so stylish underneath their lab coats. Everyone looks better with style.”

“Says the girl wearing pajamas covered in a Japanese cartoon.”

“Anime is my style.” I pulled at a thread on my pajamas, contemplative. “If a new department doesn’t open up that’s more suited to me, then research is probably where I’ll request to go when my year as an assistant is over. I’d like to develop something useful for the environment.”

She grinned. “As long as whatever you develop makes the company a lot of money, you have the approval of my department.”

A formidable burst of wind shook the apartment, causing a few pans in the kitchen to topple over, the bang of their fall like echoing thunder.

“Are we safe up here?” I asked, pulling my blanket closer.

“I want to believe so,” Julia said. “But I think I’ll sleep out here for the rest of the night.”

“Me too,” I decided, and we arranged it so that we were both stretched out on the couch, her head at one end, mine at the other.

Julia laughed. “Look at us. Aren’t we a couple of old grandmas.”

With a comedy playing on the television in the background, it didn’t take long for Julia to drift off. She kept laughing in her sleep, for reasons I doubted had much to do with a comedy invading her dreams. She was happy. Being promoted suited her. She was where she belonged.

I thought of Noah again. I hadn’t actually seen him in two weeks. We only communicated through messages on my wrist device. It was probably one of his games. He was ignoring me to catch my interest.

It was working.

***

The microchip in my arm didn’t work. I ran it in front of the door to Noah’s office, my white dress reflected in the solid gold sheathing, but it wouldn’t scan. None of the doors that led me to Noah were willing to open.

“Noah,” I called, knocking on the door. It hurt my knuckles. “Let me in. I want to talk to you. You can’t avoid me forever.”

“He’s not in,” Peter said, coming up behind me. “He hasn’t been in all week.”

“Is that normal?” I asked.

“Not for him.”

“Maybe he’s traveling,” I speculated.

Peter didn’t think so. “If he were, we’d both be traveling with him.”

Worried, I knocked on the door again, knowing it would do no good, stopping only when a shrill alarm sounded throughout the building. Instantly, I covered my ears, protecting them from the horrendous noise.

“What is that?” I asked, shouting over the alarm. “Did one of the monster robots get loose?”

“It’s an emergency drill,” Peter informed me. “It’ll be over in a second, followed by a message.”

The alarm did stop, but there was only silence afterwards. Peter frowned. “That’s strange. “There’s usually a message from… you. The personal assistant.”

“Me?”

Moving quickly, I went to my office and scanned my tablet. Sure enough, there was a message from Noah telling me to send everyone home.

“It’s no drill. It’s real. He’s worried about the storm. Why didn’t he forward the message to my wrist device?” I muttered. “And who activated the alarm? Why didn’t they tell me Noah had sent us a message?”

“Mr. Stafford has remote access to everything in his company. Wherever he is, he’s probably the one who set off the alarm.”

None of this had been part of my training. “What do I do?” I asked Peter, frantic. “I need your smarts, boy genius.”

He went to Julia’s desk and looked around. “There must be an intercom around here somewhere.”

“An intercom seems a little old-fashioned in a place like this.”

“You’re right, girl genius,” he said with the excitement of someone who had just discovered a new species. Returning to me, he took the tablet out of my hand. “The reason you didn’t get the message on your wrist device is probably because it’s not linked to the app that systemizes the emergency alarm. An oversight, really.”

He swiped the screen a few times. “You’ll probably get a bonus if you bring it to Mr. Stafford’s attention, like the big internet companies who pay people who find flaws in their programming. There.” He handed my tablet back to me.

An app for the emergency alarm dominated the screen. Above a copy of the message Noah had sent was a flashing red button. As a test, I pressed it, sounding the alarm once more. When it died down, I made my announcement, using the microphone of the tablet. “Attention, please,” I said tentatively.

An image of Julia popped up, and I realized that while I spoke, it was her image and voice broadcasting throughout the company.

I continued. “Last night’s tempest is predicted to elevate to one of the worst category storms in recent history. Please safely secure your work and proceed home. Under the advice of our mayor, do not leave your home until it is safe. You will receive a message when Stafford Scientific reopens.”

Finished, I hit the button to repeat the message every ten minutes and set the tablet down. “It sounds pretty serious.”

Peter looked terrified. “Stafford Scientific has never been shut down before. From my understanding, the lights have never turned off, not since Mr. Stafford founded the company. Whatever is about to hit us, it must be big for the doors to close.”

“That explains why the app was hidden away. It’s probably only ever been used as a drill.” I reached into my bag and pulled out my keys. “Do you have a way to contact Julia?”

He nodded. “I can contact anyone.”

I handed Peter a key. “Before the storm gets worse, I want you to go to Milwaukee. You’ll be safer there than you will here. Take Julia and whoever else you can find. You can stay at my grandma’s house. Just don’t destroy anything. There are some precious relics of hers in there. And if you find any winning scratch tickets, they’re mine.” I gave him the address.

“What about you?” he asked, tucking the key into his pocket.

I shoved him toward the elevator. “I might be down later. I have something I want to do first.”

***

Once again, I stood outside Noah’s door, but this time, it was to his penthouse apartment. I’d had packages couriered here but had never been myself. My name was familiar to the concierge, likely because of the packages, so I’d been allowed up the elevator, but the door was still a barrier between me and the man I was certain was behind it. A giant, in his own way.

Evidently, Stafford Scientific had not been responsible for the design of the building. A plain looking buzzer with a security camera was fixed outside his apartment. I pressed the buzzer, but no one answered. I tried knocking, but that didn’t work either.

“Open sesame!” I shouted. Nothing. “Open sesame!” I tried again. Still nothing.

Defeated, I turned to walk away, but my instincts pricked at me. They were on high drive, feeding off the storm.

Maybe the ordinary looking buzzer is a decoy.

On a whim, I scanned my arm beneath the security camera. Like magic, the door slid open.

“Noah!” I called out as I entered. “Noah, it’s Imogen. Are you here?”

The place was massive, like a labyrinth, filled with rooms with unknown purposes. African masks were the sole occupants of one room. Another contained a single piece of art. Like his office and my apartment, the penthouse was contemporary, comprised of as much bare space as it had furnishings.

“Noah!” I called again.

Eventually, I found him. Covered in sweat and moaning in his sleep, he lay on a leather couch. Heavy curtains were tightly shut, denying light into the room, which had no television or technology of any sort that I could see, only a fireplace and photos of his family.

“Noah,” I whispered, kneeling beside him. Despite the fact that he was dressed in slacks and a black dress shirt, he looked ill. Checking for a fever, I placed the back of my hand on his forehead, which woke him.

“Imogen. You shouldn’t be here,” he said. It sounded like it was a struggle for him to speak. “Go home.”

I didn’t budge. “Have you been to the doctor?”

“He visits daily. I’ll be fine. It’s just the flu.”

“A bad flu from the looks of it. Is this why you’ve been out sick?”

He lifted a hand to his head pressing his fingertips into his forehead. “I haven’t been out sick. I’ve been home, but I’ve been working.”

“Yeah, I got your messages. You should have told someone. Believe it or not, the company can run a few days without you.”

He winced, covering his eyes. “I don’t want it to.”

I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“I don’t remember.”

A gust of wind whipped against the building, making the photos on the wall shake. It looked like it pained him to do so, but Noah sat up. “How bad is it out there?”

“Pretty bad. I’m glad your building has underground parking. Otherwise, the daisy stickers on my hatchback would be blown to Australia.”

He fell back down. “I was going to order you to go home, but you can’t go out there. It’s not safe. You’ll have to stay here until the storm passes.”

“That’s what I planned on doing anyway. Even big bad billionaires need taking care of when they’re sick.”

“Wear a mask,” he grunted. “They’re in the bathroom. I make housekeeping wear them when they clean. There should be plenty there. I don’t want you getting sick.”

“If I get sick, I can be your first human trial for the nanotechnology,” I joked and adjusted the pillow under his head. “Unless you have an injection of it here. I saw the miracle rat. That tumor was gone within a matter of days. I bet the robots would fix you right up.”

“If I’d known this would happen, I would have sped up the research.”

I felt his forehead again. He was burning up. “Don’t act so surprised. Everyone gets sick. Even kings. No one is invincible.”

“Mask,” he reminded me.

Black shadowed the bathroom, from the tub made of obsidian marble to his standalone shower, which looked like the steam room of a luxury spa. From a shelf, I pulled down a mask and put it on. As I left, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and imagined the mask was a gag. I was bound, chained to a bed, my body pouring heat, full of desire and longing. Noah circled me, teasing me. I wanted the gag. I wanted the chains. I wanted him.

“Maybe I have a fever too,” I said, checking my own forehead.

On my way back to Noah, I detoured to the kitchen and prepared a bowl of soup, which I brought to him.

“You don’t have a lot of food in your pantry. Should we—”

I fell silent. Noah was sound asleep. Throwing the mask aside, I sat in the chair across from him and took a few sips of the soup, watching him dream. He looked different when he slept. Troubled and unhinged, like he was fighting unknown demons.

Before he woke and tried to tell me what I could or could not do, I set the soup on the fireplace mantel and went outside into the storm. It was midday, but the streets were dark, the clouds above wrathful. I didn’t go far, spotting a deli nearby.

An old Turkish man cleaned the counters as I walked in. “We’re closing, so make it quick,” he warned. “Gotta get out of this madness.”

Ignoring the menu board, I inspected the pots of soup, meats, and breads that were on display. “Will these last the next few days?” I asked.

“If you refrigerate them.”