Venus City 1 (27 page)

Latham looked bewildered at her question, and straightened his glasses as he leaned down to take her appearance in. His magenta eyes were smooth, and the spark of intelligence buried in their depths reminded her of the same mark she'd witnessed in her brother's gaze. “Why are you asking me these things, sweet Braya? Are you worried about something? If there is a matter bothering you, lay it out on me. I am to be your loyal husband, and I need to know all of your problems in order to be of assistance.”

Braya deflated. She might be posing the questions wrong, but she admitted to herself that even if she were a master word-smith, she could not get him to answer her question the way she wished. She decided it was no use. “Oh, please don't worry. It was just a...passing curiosity, nothing more.”

Latham's smile returned, and he embraced her. Braya allowed the hug, finding his strong warms around her to be somewhat of a comfort. What came next, however, shook her to her core.

His hand cupped her jaw line, and he leaned in to press their lips together. Braya had not expected the kiss, and stood rigid in his arms as his mouth did forbidden things to hers. What was he doing? Where had that come from? As far as she knew, the intimacy part of the whole Bride and Groom deal didn't come until they were ready to make babies—and even then, it was to serve its purpose, not to actually
be
intimate with each other. Her eyes widened. Was that his intention, to take her right there in the middle of the hall? No one ever claimed men to have the brightest rationales.

Braya jolted to action once she felt the kiss had stretched far too long. She disentangled herself from his arms and took a few steps back, mussed and breathless—why was she breathless? The kiss had been three fleeting seconds, a prolonged
peck
! She blamed it on the suddenness of it, the embarrassment.

Her face was flushed, and his seemed to be, too. She wanted to yell at him, ask him what that had been, but she stopped herself. They were to be married...weren't married couples supposed to kiss? Disgruntled, she stomped around the corner and left Latham there to stare at his shoes. She didn't get very far before she bumped into Asher, leaning against the side of the corridor, his shoulders tense, one eye gold and one eye blue.

“You saw, didn't you?” She asked boorishly.

“Saw what? You finding fulfillment in your dearly betrothed? Surely you can't be speaking of
that
?”

Seeing him, and knowing he'd seen what just transpired, re-doubled her humiliation as she was reminded of what had happened last night with him on the roof. What had that been, that almost-kiss? She had vehemently convinced herself it was nothing,
absolutely
nothing, but now she wondered if she
should
consider it her first kiss. If it wasn't, then her kiss with Latham had been her first. She didn't want either of them to have claim to it, but she had to rationalize with herself and decide which one she wanted to have claim the
least
. It didn't matter which one had been better—no, not a single aspect of either 'kiss' had been any shade of good—or which of the two males coerced her into the throes of desire, because both of them had cheated. That was it. Neither counted as a kiss, because she hadn't been a participant of either.

****

They were in the Moon District de-hazing again. They were almost done with it, and would move onto the wealthy residential areas of Senna and Paith upon finishing.

After Asher had collected her in the hall, they were joined by Page and the three of them had ridden the Rail. They were lurking around the Moon Tamer Stadium at the moment, as three of the dots on the map were marked along the outside of the stadium. As far as she could tell from the crowded parking garages they'd passed from their way out of the Rail station, and the subdued noise inside the stadium, there was a game going on, though nothing of the same caliber as the weekend games.

“How long are you going to stay angry?” Braya asked, throwing Asher a glance. He followed her at a disturbing closeness and his right eye was still glowing an intense amber color. She could see it out of her peripheral vision at all times, so close as he was. “Is that a stupid foreigner thing, too?”

“How 'bout for as long as you're planning on marrying that stupid oaf and popping out a few of his children,” Asher replied coolly.

Braya grimaced. “Nice choice of words.”

“And your little naivety act is getting old,” Asher added, half a step behind her as she moved toward the next dot on the map. “Asking if everything is just a foreigner thing—is that your way of avoiding the problem? Of pretending like there's not something wrong with the men here, but with us?”

Braya gave a forced laugh. “Oh, right, you clever guy, you. Figured me out.” She threw her hands up as if surrendering.

“I've had you figured out for a long time,” Asher countered. Their voices were growing louder the longer their argument stretched on, and there were random passersby that gave them concerned looks.

“
A light can never remove every spot of darkness,” Page intoned.

“Right, right,” Braya said sarcastically. “What is that supposed to even mean, Page? How 'bout you add something useful to this argument?”

“You don't need to drag him into this just because you can't defend yourself anymore,” Asher said snidely. They had just located the next mapped dot and Asher was rummaging in his bag for a booster. “He's too weak to be any use to either of us, anyway.”

Braya scoffed. “Is that another foreigner thing? Handicapping any other person who could be a possible threat before they even get a chance to have a word in edgewise?”

“You think he'd join this argument on your side?” He asked incredulously, slamming the booster into her hand. People were still staring at them, but Braya and Asher were not paying attention to them anymore. Page was standing just beyond them, shifting his feet anxiously, his white-blond hair curling into his eyes and hiding his expression.

“It would be wise to quiet down,” Page muttered.

Braya gazed at him, startled. “He
does
know how to say something else?”

He so rarely said anything of variety that Braya had forgotten he could.

“So it would seem,” Asher replied dryly. “Come on, hurry up and post the booster onto the building already!”

“Or else what?” She asked testily, peeling the back paper off of it. “You'll flood me with your sick desires? Force me to kiss you—”

“That wasn't my fault! It was something different—”

“Of
course
it was.”

“Really, I looked into it—”

“That's unlikely. Here comes another dose of lies.”

“I've never
lied
—”

“Fabricating the truth, same thing.”

“Would you just
listen
for a second?”

“I'm a little busy trying to put this stupid booster on, and you keep talking, and it's like, make up your mind! What do you want me to do? Listen, or do my job? The job which you forced onto me in the first place—”

“BRAYA!” His voice echoed a great distance as the booster sealed onto the stone of the building, ripples of purple spreading in a spider web's pattern along the wall.

“What's going on here?”

Braya spun to see a tall, gruff woman with a tight blonde ponytail, a long, pointed nose and glittering black eyes. She wore a bulky protective suit and the backs of her hands were tattooed with boosters. She was a Hem Liner.

Asher remained facing Braya so that the woman couldn't see his golden and blue eyes, while Page slowly turned to face the Hemmer, though his gaze was still hidden by his hair.

The Hemmer's eyes were inspecting the wall where Braya had just implanted the booster, and all Braya could think of were the delicate spider lines that wove across the stone. Could the woman see those? Braya could only imagine if she could—possessing unregistered boosters the way they were was illegal, and Braya would be captured and locked up.

“Let me ask you once more,” the Hemmer said, eyes flicking back to Braya. “Is there a problem here? What are you doing with unauthorized boosters? Young man, turn around.”

The Hemmer reached to spin Asher around. His mismatched gaze met Braya's for a split second before he vanished under her touch. Page followed suit, and Braya was left there with an astonished Hemmer, whose eyes locked onto Braya.

“Run.”

Asher had commanded it, so Braya did it.

She ran from the Hemmer when everything in her told her not to. Resisting capture would only make matters worse. They would end up catching her no matter how fast she ran. That woman was probably boosted up with more enhancements than Braya could name. What if getting captured was a good thing, though? Perhaps they could discover the master-slave link, remove it, and let her tell the whole truth.

It didn't matter, though. Braya's issue was ordered, and she had to follow it.

She raced across the field, split through small groups of people meandering through the fields, dodged trees, and continued down the main street. Braya ran so fast that the setting began blurring around her, but she could still tell where she was due to the vision booster she had.

Braya figured the command would wear off after a few minutes, and it did. She stopped running when she came to an empty parking lot, and leaned against the building, panting. She didn't get the moment of respite she'd been hoping for, as a fist came barreling from behind her. Braya dodged it easily—she thanked Asher over a million times for the reflex booster, though she supposed the gratitude was misplaced—and spun around to see that the Hemmer had followed her. Go figure she had super speed. She probably had a super GPS and other navigation imbued into her person as well.

The Hemmer continued to punch at her with lightening speed. Braya dodged, and supposed she should be thankful for that Petti race with the Locers, too. She decided to run for it again, even though she knew it wouldn't do her a lot of good.

Instead of going in a straight line, Braya ran in a zigzag, but no matter how elaborate a path she forged, the Hemmer was always at her ankles, despite the extra stamina Braya had, she could only run so far. She was slowing already, and the Hemmer seemed to have no shortage of energy. Braya tapered off in the backyard of some Finch's house, dodged a couple more punches, but it was the end of her. The Hemmer announced her under arrest, cuffed her hands, and called in a car.

****

The cell she was held in was somewhere underground. She was curled up on a cold stone floor with three thick slabs of stones looming over her. The fourth wall was made up of thick bars warped into grotesque gargoyles that looked like shadows guarding the exit.

She'd been stripped down naked and examined closely upon being admitted. They found nothing but the four boosters on her back—upon which they'd mercilessly interrogated her on—and Braya had felt a little bit of her hope wither away. They had not seen anything of the master-slave link, which left her alone in this situation.

After she had refused to speak of how she'd come to attain the boosters—strictly because it involved mentioning Asher and Ness and by association the Locers—they'd thrown her into her cell. After an hour had stretched by, they had dragged her out to resume their interrogations.

“Who were those boys you were with? The ones who disappeared?”

The two women interrogating her were different. They were not Hemmers, Braya was sure of that. They were both plain-faced with unremarkable dirty blonde hair, and their pale skin was wrought with aqua blue markings, like their skin was too thin to conceal their veins, only Braya thought it was the opposite, that their veins were too bright to be concealed. They wore dark, long cloaks and spoke in tight, icy tones.

“I can't say.”

The Hem Liners protected the city, the Handkerchief Society monitored and created boosters and plugs, and the Fair Lady’s Court ran the government. Who were these women and what role did they have?

She heard them confer with each other enough to know their names were Quinn and Giselle. They didn't seem to care that she overheard them—perhaps they wanted her to hear what they were discussing.

“A truth booster might force her to give us some answers.”

“I was thinking of using the Double Plug.”

“You think an illegal plug that detects other plugs is necessary?”

“That Hemmer said those boys became invisible. This sounds serious.”

They continued to pummel her with invasive questions, but none of them yielded helpful answers. Braya began to despair, feeling they would keep her locked in there forever for her lack of cooperation. Her mother might even like that, think it a good way to erase her shameful daughter from existence.

That thought sent her into a fit of sobs. She was in the cell again, and it echoed loudly. She tried to calm herself by thinking of Asher. She found it soothing to attempt to draw the lines that defined her hatred for him. Braya determined it was some warped, twisted thing that had been edged with a more intimate grace due to the mixing and spoiling of their emotions. She wished she could know how she actually felt about him—to feel that natural dislike without inhibitions—so she wouldn't feel so bothered by it.