Unfit (11 page)

  She lands perhaps eight strikes in a blur. The lightning rod twirls into a living grey disk, whose ends scream a deadly aria, punctuated only by the deafening thuds of her strikes.

  Still Kristanson manages to get to a knee. I can see that he’s using power to absorb most of Kimberly’s blows. Her strikes only bring up red welts instead of crushing bones like they should.

  Elias has crept forward now. I see him glancing at the crowd and back at me. Perhaps he wonders what will happen to us all if Kimberly loses this fight. By the set of his jaw, I know he’s making a very delicate choice right now.

  Kristanson regains his feet and backhands Kimberly, sending her lightning rod clattering away as she falls. He turns his right hand into a cluster of spider-like bolts and tries to set it over Kimberly’s heart before she can roll off her back. She grabs his hand, blocking him from delivering his attack.

  Some people from the crowd try to intervene, but the bolts ripple off the duellers and arc to anyone who gets near.

  “Elias, help,” barks Kristanson as he strains to push his hand through Kimberly’s grasp.

  Elias takes one more look at me, before turning to throw a bolt into the duel. The bolt strikes Kristanson, stunning him for a moment, and allowing Kimberly to land a kick to his face, sending him sprawling.

  “Traitor!” says Kristanson as he sits up.

  It is all the encouragement that the crowd needs. They close the clearing and begin to beat Kristanson with their boards and bricks. It’s too much for him to block all at once. I lose sight of him in the press of bodies.

  Kimberly emerges from the mob, as more people come running around the sides. She tackles Elias as he turns to flee, easily outrunning him.

  Vergen releases me in order to run away with the other mercenaries. I run over to join Kimberly, who has pushed Elias up against a wall.

  She stands in front of him, facing the onrushing crowd, her back pressed to him and arms out defensively. I join her there and do the same, even throwing in a suggestion to the mob that Elias is our friend. But this many minds, all thinking different things, are a little difficult to control.

  Most of the mob rushes past us in pursuit of the mercenaries. Ten people stop to yell angrily at Kimberly. Their collective tempers merge into a dragon above them, claws snapping at us.

  With this as a focal point, I can manage better. I cool the dragon from such a volatile red to spring green. It shrinks quickly under my outstretched hand. When I snap my fist closed, it blinks out.

  “He helped me by turning on his friends,” says Kimberly to the crowd. “This one is not the enemy.”

  The mob before us slows, and more people join them. I can see over their heads, where Kristanson’s beaten body is being hoisted in the air.

  “To the pit!” they yell.

  The construction pit where the functional ‘Canoid waits. My stomach turns into a knot.

  The other half of the crowd has run down the mercenaries. I can hear them pleading for mercy from the blows the crowd gives them. If they are lucky, they will pass out before getting dragged to the ‘Canoid. I will have nightmares about this for weeks. I want them to be punished for what they did. But not like this.

  The mob begins to sing as they drag everyone off. They leave us behind. For now, Elias is safe.

  “When I threw that bolt, I fully expected to die,” says Elias. “I owe you ladies a debt that can never be fully repaid.”

  “Go to the Coalition,” says Kimberly turning to face him. “Tell them to come here and make peace. I will tell Kajo Blue, and we will all sit down and talk.”

  “And you, Hattie,” says Elias.

  There’s a quick transition that puts Hattie back in control. I watch her hug him and cry. Her mind dances with blinding joy as she bear-hugs him.

  “You’re a telepath now, Hattie. The mob wasn’t prepared to just let me go. I could tell.”

  “No, Master Elias. That was my good friend Miss Kwan.”

  “Ohhh,” says Kimberly, her mouth going round.

  “Tell your friend I owe her too.”

  “She can hear you. I love her so.”

 
Really, Hattie. Must you?

 
Yes!

  I roll my eyes.
Kimberly will walk you two to the border. I’m dissolving the merge for now. I’ll keep a light connection on you, so I’ll know if you’re in danger.

  I’m back in my room, the chemistry book on my lap and bedside lamp still burning. I’m tired, but I can’t sleep yet, in case Hattie needs me.

  Back to these frustrating elements, I guess. With a sigh, I raise the book and begin to read.

  By morning, chaos from the riot has spread across Hillvale, even into the Coalition side, where the Lanarrs’ live.

  Yelling mobs rove up and down the streets overturning garbage cans or getting into fights. The wail of warren sirens is constant whenever I pass an open window. The water truck and firemen have been running all night, so now East Hillvale has the pall of a dark smoke cloud over it.

  West Hillvale, the Coalition side, has no out-of-control fires, but it’s not safe to walk the streets. This means a welcome respite from Alešan, who stays home and misses today’s lesson. It’s my first lesson without her and it goes smoothly, with Mrs. Lanarr working at my pace in mathematics, and Panne helping me in penmanship. Life would be perfect if Alešan would just disappear forever. I ask Greg about it that night when he sneaks into my room.

  “No, we can’t send her back yet. My family is obligated to finish the lessons, or she’ll lose face. That’s bad for negotiations.”

  “Does she know you’ve already chosen me? It would be mean to surprise her with that.”

  “Oh, I’ve been meaning to tell her. It just hasn’t come up yet.”

  “Don’t you think she already suspects? Why not just come out and tell her?”

  “I will. When the time is right. I promise.”

  That’s some progress. Although I’d hate to think he’s stringing her along for some political family advantage.

  Instead, I float the topic of a formal betrothal, but Greg shoots that down.

  “Too rushed,” he says. “People will ask questions.”

  “I’ll be eighteen in a month. They won’t be able to say anything.”

  “Okay, for your eighteenth birthday I’ll give you a promise ring. I’ll try to surprise you with something better on your nineteenth birthday. How’s that sound?”

  “That’s a wonderful birthday gift.”

  “I’m glad to make you happy,” says Greg, kissing me on the forehead.

  After a moment, we’ve kicked off the sheets to find more physical ways to exchange happiness.

  It takes three days for the riots to settle down enough for normal life to resume in the Lanarr household. Their neighbourhood is mostly upperclass to high family types, and they all wisely stay out of the civil unrest. So most of the rioting happens downtown, enclosing the Coalition Lightnings in a ten-block radius around their fortress tower.

  West Hillvale is lost to the Coalition now. I hear from Greg that they rarely even leave their fortress. Control of the demesne has fallen mainly to Kimberly, who patrols quietly at night, and the various independent groups telekinetics.

  They all do this without pay or base of operations. Some are good-minded, and others allow rampant crime and gangs to form. Kajo must declare as Namika and end this. He’ll need to seize the Coalition’s assets and establish a standing police force. The Coalition can no longer do this by themselves.

  “Don’t worry about it so much, m’dear,” says my grandfather when I visit him on the weekend to help him pack. “The demesne will sort itself out. Always does. Worrying won’t change that.”

  “I can’t just ignore it, Grandpapa. Every night I get woken up by someone getting robbed at knife-point or someone getting raped somewhere. I’ve not slept since the second riot.”

  Grandfather sighs and sets a hand on my shoulder so he can read some of the worst of it from me.

  “You’re getting too sensitive to the soul of Hillvale, Kwan. This will eat at you unless you can let it go.”

  “The monster of injustice has already swallowed me whole. What’s left of me will soon be ejected from its rectum.”

  Grandfather chortles as Greg walks into the room.

  “You guys all set? I’ll move the car to the front now.”

  “Thank you Greg. Almost all packed,” I say.

  We send Greg off with the heaviest suitcase, leaving one handbag that’s small enough for me to carry.

  “Grandpa, you look so sad to be leaving.”

  “Yeah, that new nurse isn’t working today, so I can’t get one last hug in.”

  His public-mind thoughts make me shudder.

  “Grandpa, you old coot. She’s a nurse, not a squeeze-doll.”

  “At my age, that line gets a little blurred, young one.”

  “Keep that up and I won’t let my folks give you my old room. You’ll be back up in the attic locked up, like little perverts should be.”

  “Wicked little girl. Wait till I get my hands on you.”

  The good-natured chase tires him out by the time we reach the end of the hall. But his sadness at leaving turns to happiness when the office hands him his discharge papers.

  Greg and I take him home to my parents.

  “You’re so lucky to have your grandfather,” says Greg on the drive back to the Lanarrs’. “My grandfather died young of a heart-attack. I was two at the time.”

  “Oh, Greg, that’s so sad.” I lean on his arm as much as I can without throwing off his steering.

  “My grandmother survived him by four years, but she just kinda faded out. You could see it all happen.”

  “Aww.”

  We drive in silent melancholy until the house comes into sight. I sit up, in case the neighbours are watching.

  “Actually, you know what? Let’s shake this mood by celebrating,” says Greg as he opens my door.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “The Wenthen’s are having a soirée tonight. Let’s go there. There might even be dancing.”

  My first opportunity to dance. I squeal with delight.

  “But wait,” says Greg. “You’ll tone down the face-paint huh? We want to fit in there.”

  “Anything for you, Greg.”

  And he releases me to go start fussing about my outfit.

  I end up in my navy blue dress, red heels that Panne lends me, matching ribbons for my hair, and neck scarf. Panne assures me that this a little simple, but elegant enough for the function. It reminds me how few outfits I have that can blend in with high family.

  We hire taxi carriage to get to the Wenthen’s since Greg doesn’t fancy being seen arriving in the family car. Their house is bigger than Greg’s and has extensive gardens to it. They’ve placed underground wires to run spotlights in the lawn that shine on the house, giving it a healthy cream glow in the evening light.

  There are a dozen guests in the front area being admitted by Wenthen house staff. The female guests all wear fancy bodices that push up their cleavage. I’m too thin for that to work, even if I owned a corset, so I have to settle for watching them with envy.

  The guests have gathered under the cheerful glow of the spotlights and the many lines of hanging lanterns. Little cast-iron tables form a loose cluster in the grass by the patio stones. The stones make up what I hope will become the dance floor, because I see violinists setting up there.

  There is a long table of appetizers set up by the entry way as we walk in, but Greg steers us away from it and to the centre of the space. There, to shake hands someone he knows.

  “Good to see you, Greg! And who’s this lovely young lass?”

  “Kwan, meet Lucius. Lucius, Kwan, my date tonight.”

  Lucius kisses my hand. A date, Greg called me. So he’s not gone public with his friends about us. Good to know, so I don’t make any slip-ups.

  “Kwan, may I leave you over there with the ladies and join Lucius upstairs for a cigar?”

  “Of course,” I say, though I hope he doesn’t plan on getting any play tonight, reeking of cigar smoke.

  I allow him to escape and make my way to the tables where eight women have gathered. I bet their husbands are all upstairs coughing their lungs out on those cigars.

  The women have formed an excited group, except for one on the end who looks a little left-out. I do a double-take on the end one. She’s wearing my golden dress.

  It’s a high family woman I think. About my age and size, of course, for the dress to fit her. She’s added fancy earrings and bracelets, but the dress remains the same.

  All at once, I remember the heavy bag of gold I’ve hidden for Kajo under my bed. I can afford to buy back my dress. I don’t really need it, of course. But maybe I can use it as a wedding dress when the time comes. I would want to be married in that dress because of how much I sacrificed to make it.

  I hustle over to the other side of the woman. She glances at me when I sit down beside her.

  “Umm excuse me there,” I say.

  “Yes?”

  I can’t believe how long and thick her eye lashes are. They have to be some cunning fakes.

  “That dress you’re wearing. It used to be mine. I’d like to buy it back from you, when you’re done with it. If you’re willing.”

  She finds this funny; the corners of her mouth turn up.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am Kwan.”

  “Kwan what?”

  I pause. It would be impolite to use the Lanarr name in this circumstance. Even if Greg was acknowledging us.

  “Just Kwan.”

  “No family name? Are you some kind of peasant girl?”

  “I’m a Hillvalian just like you. And I’ll pay you anything you want to get that back.”

  “Since when do peasants feel like they may address Zeta Megerin?”

  Lovely. Megerin has given the dress to his daughter. Fortune mocks me again.

  The other seven women have stopped chatting to watch us and giggle to each other. If only Zeta hadn’t raised her voice at the end there, I might have escaped this encounter with some shred of my dignity intact.

  “Furthermore, where does a commoner like you get such expensive shoes?”