Venus City 1 (28 page)

She heard a noise outside her cell and presumed they'd returned for more interrogation, probably intending to use the plugs they were discussing earlier.

It wasn't Quinn or Giselle, though.

Sir Channing was standing outside the now open cell door, his hand outstretched for her.

Braya glowered at him. “What are YOU doing here?”

“You've been cleared. You're free to go,” he said simply.

“Just like that?” She spat. “And how do you play into that? Who are you to release me? And what were you doing at my house the other day?” She couldn't help it, the question was a thorn in her side.

He chuckled. “Just a business matter, nothing serious. Come, Miss Vace. I'm sure you'd like to return home.”

She refused the hand he offered her and brushed past him out the cell. “The only thing I want is answers.”

Channing shrugged. “I cannot give you those answers at this time. Please, if you will, we must leave this cell.”

He motioned her toward the exit, but she didn't budge. Two shadows loomed behind her, and she saw that Quinn and Giselle had returned, loitering near the exit.

“You don't want them to escort you out, do you? Aura Seeks, they're not the friendliest bunch of women,” Channing said, attempting to be lighthearted. Braya had never heard of Aura Seeks, but in the light of the moment, found she didn't care much. All she was concerned about was unraveling the enigma that Channing was. Why did he keep popping up at the most random moments?

“I don't care,” she hissed. “Why am I suddenly cleared of all charges? How did you do this?”

“Ah, a
light can never remove every spot of darkness,” Channing replied with a tight-lipped grin. “In this case, releasing you is more beneficial than keeping you locked away.”

Braya stared into his magenta eyes, shocked. That was the same exact phrase that Page always quoted, but why was Channing saying it? It certainly wasn't a popular phrase—she'd never heard it until Page had said it the first time at the bottom of the underground stairs! She studied the man before her as he ushered her out the door. He was tall, well built, and moderately attractive with black hair and a strong jaw. But his eyes were magenta...What connection could he possibly have to Page? She had to confront Page, get to the bottom of this, as Braya didn't get the chance to ask Channing any further questions.

Her mind whirred. She’d just been deposited outside, and from the looks of things, she was somewhere in the Diamond District, but she had no idea where.

Braya went in search of a Rail station, but it seemed there weren't any nearby, as far as the map on her tech pad showed. Yet, it seemed luck was on her side that night—if it could be called luck, anyway.

Asher appeared only minutes after she'd left the jail. He fell into step with her as she walked along the busy street, and Braya felt her nerves bristle at the sight of him. That wasn't all, though. She couldn't deny it—there was an overwhelming sense of relief at the sight of him, and she couldn't blame it on conjoined emotions. This wasn't the same sensation of messy, mixed watercolors she'd felt before when they'd almost kissed. This was her own emotion, plain and clear.

“How did you find me? Were you in that prison with me that whole time?” She accused. It felt weird being released from that cold, depressing cell after so much grief, so much interrogation with absolutely no consequences. It felt surreal.

“No,” he whispered. “The link...the master...friend link, it led me to you.”

“
Great
,” she spat. “Now you have a GPS tracking on me?”

“No,” he hastened to amend. “It was more of a feeling...I could feel your despair, your hopelessness. It was really strange. But it led me here. I saw when they released you.”

“So you weren't going to go in there and break me out yourself? It was
your
fault I was there in the first place. You running your mouth so loud.”

“I was, but they released you before I needed to.”

Braya looked at him, considered him. Would he know what was going on between Channing and Page? She figured it wouldn't hurt to ask, but he spoke up first.

“Braya,” he uttered. He never usually said her full name unless he was issuing an order. She tensed. “I wanted to clear something up with you. It's about the master-slave link. I...looked more into it. I wanted to know why that...thing happened the other night. I came across two possible reasons. One, I think I touched your mark. It must be on the back of your neck. By touching it, the bond between us was completely open and our emotions were free to pass back and forth. The second reason plays a role, too, I suspect. You see, the link only makes use of genuine feelings. When we feel something mutual for each other, it breaks the border between our emotions so that we can feel what the other feels, experience the sensations our...partner feels. Like Ness said, it was meant for husbands and wives to increase their...pleasure.”

“So you expect me to remove the blame from you?” She asked dubiously.

“That would be a nice start.”

Braya shook her head. “Only if you tell me something.”

He could sense her tone, and froze. His magenta eyes were staring brightly at her, hesitating. They had stopped walking, and were standing off to the side so that the other people passing by could not bump them. “You know it depends on the nature of that something. I can't tell you just anything.”

“Tell me,” she urged, stepping closer to him so that no one could overhear. “What's going on between Channing and Page?” The flash of surprise in his eyes told her she was right in assuming he'd know something about it. “Is Channing a foreigner, too? Is he part of this Locer gang you have?”

“I can't—”

“Tell me,” she hissed, leaning in so that her cheek brushed his. He fell back against a fence, his thick lashes skimming delicately across her skin. “I need to know. I'm already aware there's something going on.” She was gripping the front of his shirt. “Tell me! Why'd that horrid Channing man released me from that jail?
Who
is he?”

Asher gazed at her helplessly. She could see the fight in his expression, see how he was debating with himself. If his eyes weren't sealed off in that magenta coat, she might be able to see the way the broken ice splinters in his gaze would smolder into a blue fog as he caved. Because he
did
cave. She witnessed it. It might’ve been because he felt it fair for her to know, or because he liked her. Either way, Braya could see it plain in his handsome features.

“All right,” he sighed, not making any effort to remove her from him. “Channing...he's Page's father.”

Aside from the fact that Channing was Page's father, Braya couldn't force Asher to reveal anything more on the topic that night. She had declared that the next time she saw Page she would force him to tell her everything about his father. Why was he in Venus City? What connections did he have with Mother Ophelia, Leraphone, and her own mother, Charlotte? What power did he have to clear her charges and release her from prison in the matter of minutes? And most importantly, what was his connection with the Locers? Were they working separately, or was he a secret member—no, maybe their leader after all? Braya was itching to have these questions answered. Things had become too complicated, too dangerous for her to simply sit back and ignore what she knew.

Braya had intended on rushing back to the chapel that very night in order to interrogate Page, but Asher had issued her an order. An order to go back to the manor and sleep soundly, get some rest. And not to go searching for Page.

Braya knew she would get her chance to speak to Page, despite Asher's order. She was impatient to resume their de-hazing because Asher always brought Page with him. This time wouldn't be an exception, would it?

It was Thursday, which meant the wedding was approaching at an alarming rate. Her Sisters wanted to spend the day with her—though she had an inkling Maydessa would rather she didn't join them and Emma couldn't care either way—celebrating their soon-to-be-lost single-ship, but Braya emphatically declined. She could imagine it, strolling around the quaint little shops in Heart District, chatting about their wedding dresses... Braya's mind would implode on itself.

Instead of lingering around the manor, Braya decided to visit her mother. She knew somewhere deep down that it wasn't a good idea, that her mother might even resort to physically removing her from the property, but Braya was beyond caring. She was antsy over the events of last night and if she didn't do something to keep her mind occupied...well, she didn't want to finish that thought.

Braya took the Rail. She could have ran, could have spent all her energy in physical exertion so as to force her mind into a numbed and exhausted state, so much as to render herself incapable of chasing circles with her thought process. Because that's all she could do with the little scraps of information she had. Nothing fit, nothing made sense, and nothing gave way to answers.

But she didn't run. Didn't want to appear mussed and sweaty when she arrived. It was important to uphold an air of refinement, even if her reason to visit was the sole opposite of that ideal. Her mother had bred her to live and breathe and
expect
delicacy and class in whatever she endeavored, and Braya intended to employ it in her last desperate attempt to regain her mother's favor. Even if there was no symmetry in what Braya wished to explain, even if her words were crisscrossed with uneven, jagged lines, she would force herself to appear dignified when she talked to her mother today. It was her only hope. That, and Channing.

She couldn't tell anyone about the master-slave link or the Locers, but that was because they didn't exist to anyone else. They were fabrications, ghosts. Not Channing. He was real. Mother had seen him, and if she could warn her, tell her that he was not a Venusian, tell her he was up to no good, it might be enough to open an investigation on him. And, if she were extremely lucky, perhaps it would lead to the capture of the rest of the Locers. It was her last shred of hope. Her wedding was so close and she was nowhere closer to success in turning in the Locers. Channing was her last link to them. It had to work in her favor. It had to.

The house looked just as it normally did from the outside. To anyone else, nothing of the family's current turmoil was evident in the appearance of their home. For some reason the sight of it, the same as ever amidst all the strife and drama lately, made her unutterably sad. How had things changed so fast?

Braya approached the door, inhaled deeply, and knocked. It took her a while, but when Harmony finally answered the door, her eyes widened. It wasn't hard to see that she'd been stretched beyond her limits in the last couple weeks. Lines that hadn't previously been there now creased her face, dark bags circled beneath her bloodshot eyes, and the color of her skin was an unflattering pale gray.

“Miss!” She cried. “No, you mustn't be here,” she said urgently. “Please, just go.”

“Harmony, just let me talk to Mother real quick,” Braya implored.

“No, it's out of the question,” Harmony said forcefully, shaking her head. “Please, go, before she—”

Harmony tried to close to door on Braya, but she placed a firm hand against it and slid her foot into the doorjamb.

“Harmony, dear,” a honey, sweet voice trickled down through the foyer. “Why are you being so impolite? Who is it at the door?”

“No one of consequence, Miss,” Harmony replied, straining to shut the door on Braya.

Braya decided this might be her only chance. She moved closer to the door so that her voice could carry through the foyer, and called out, “Mother! Please, come down here for a moment! I have something very important to tell you. I promise you'll want to know this.”

 
There was a long stretch of silence, and then an irritated release of breath. Braya could hear her mother descending the staircase. A moment later, Harmony was forcefully removed from her spot guarding the door and her mother's large shape filled the space.

“You!” She said through clenched teeth. “Did I not make it clear that you were never to return to this residence?”

Braya bowed her head. “Yes, and I'm very sorry for disturbing you, Mother, but I had to tell you this. Last time we were here, that man...Channing. I saw him entering when we were leaving. I found something out about him that I think you should know.”

“I don't wish to hear anything you have to say,” her mother's bulgy eyes flared up in annoyance.

Braya swallowed hard, and forced herself to continue despite the pang in her chest. “He's not a Venusian, Mother. He's a foreigner! He's—” She tried to explain that he was part of a secret combat group, but all she could do was choke over the words. “Mother...” she cleared her throat. “Don't trust him. Report him!”

Her mother was staring down her nose at Braya, the look of condescension in her expression almost making it hard for Braya to keep eye-contact. She was smirking, and realization dawned on Braya like a bucket of ice water over her head.