Saven Deception (20 page)

Curious and curiouser.

I gravitate toward a pair of startling blue
contacts. My mind registers the connection and a blush stains my cheeks.
Putting them back down, I select a pair of emerald colored contacts instead.

“Here, I’ll show you,” Jarod says,
watching me fumbling to position them in my eye. Kneeling down, he pauses,
drawing a steadying breath. He removes his navy colored contacts, revealing his
warm chocolate brown eyes underneath. His Adam’s apple jumps in his throat as
he watches me anxiously.

A steady thrumming picks up pace in my
veins as unspoken tension laces the air. He stares at me expectantly and a
truth rests on the outer edges of my mind, just beyond reach. “You don’t
remember me?” he asks.

A tiny dart of amber glints in his eye and
it sparks the memory alive. “Oh my God. I remember. You’re Watson Manley? The
guy who escaped from the penitentiary?” Now his reaction the first time we met
in the Mock-Up Facility makes total sense. 

He presses his forehead to mine. “Yes. I
wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure it was safe for you to know the
truth.”

“You can trust me.”

“I already know that, dummy,” he teases,
mock punching me in the arm. “There’s some serious shit going down, Sadie. I
could be putting you at risk by telling you what I know.”

“I want to know,” I rasp, without
hesitation, memories of my tarot session and hidden agendas still fresh in my
mind. I can’t wrap my head around the fact he’s here. I remember the thought
I’d had as we parted that day: that it would be nice to enter Thalassic City
semi-knowing another person. Perhaps I should be mad at him for concealing his
true identity, but given his status as a wanted criminal, I can understand his
reluctance to divulge his real persona. Something else occurs to me. “Why were
you imprisoned?”

“I’d been using my IT expertise to spy on
the government and they caught me.” He sounds relaxed but his muscles are rigid
with tension, and I don’t have to be Einstein to deduce it’s something he
doesn’t wish to discuss.

“I’d hoped that day we met that we’d see
each other again.” I deliberately switch the subject.

He takes my hands in his. “Me, too. I
couldn’t believe it when Vin introduced you to me. It felt like it was meant to
be, like I already had a friend.”

I timidly hug him. “I’m glad you told me,
and I promise I won’t tell a soul.”

“You’re not scared of me?” The look of
vulnerability on his face guts me.

I smile reassuringly. “Of course not.
You’re about as dangerous as a fly.”

He hugs me again. “Thank you. And for the
record, I trust you. I wouldn’t have told you otherwise.”

“Good. Now, no more shirking, time to tell
me what you know.” I sit down.

 He rests his cheek against mine. “I’m not
exactly sure what the government is up to, but there’s an unusual flurry of
activity at the power plant and the space station, and there’s other construction
on the outskirts of Thalassic City. I’ve been sneaking around the computer
systems, trying to discover more, but it’s slow and tedious work, and there’s
only limited snooping time. I figured tonight might be a good chance to
identify up close what’s going on. If we get caught, we’ll be in a butt load of
trouble. Are you sure you want to take the risk?”

His warm brown eyes stare earnestly into
mine.

“I’m sure. Nothing is more important than
the truth.”

“Well, let’s get this show on the road
then.” He grins as he stands, extending a hand to help me up.

After he’s demonstrated how to insert the
contacts, he hides his blond hair with a black wig and trades his usual navy
blue-eyed look for a hazel hue instead. I slap a load of makeup on my face and
position a pair of glasses with cool black-rimmed frames over my ears.

We inspect our reflections in the mirror
and collapse in a fit of giggles. It’s both strange and comforting to look
nothing like my normal self. Anyone we know would be hard pushed to identify
either one of us in a lineup.

Assured that we’re both suitably
disguised, we set out.

***

We try to look inconspicuous as we draw near a brightly lit
City Hall. A steady line of luxurious vehicles approaches the building
depositing glamorous couples and VIPs at the entrance. A long velvety red
carpet covers the steps and walkway to the glistening glass entry point.
Waiters, stiff in posture and attire, distribute elegant flutes of sparkling
amber-colored liquid to guests as they arrive.

I follow Jarod around the back of the
building to the service entrance and allow him do all the talking. Once we’re
processed and tagged, we are directed toward Ms. Mountbatten, a tall, thin, formidable-looking
older lady wearing an unflattering black skirt suit. Assigning us both to the
main dining hall, she barks out orders like a sergeant major.

We silently line up with our colleagues at
the back wall of the elegant dining hall as guests start to filter into the
room. Massive twinkling crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling over the long
mahogany table lavishly decorated in shades of cream, beige, and gold. Numerous
tall golden candelabras line the middle of the table, interspersed between vast
centerpieces of cream and red roses. A delicate floral scent lingers in the air
as guests start to take their seats. No fake crap for the VIPs, I muse.

A tingling sensation furls in the pit of
my stomach quickly spreading to all parts of my body. I freeze on the spot.
Afraid to draw any attention to myself, I stare straight ahead and try to
ignore the familiar feeling.

The tall dark-haired man catches my
attention first.
What is Vin’s supervisor doing here? And why is he talking
to the president?
Holy crap. Our president is standing less than ten feet
away from me. If we’re caught, I’ll be booted out of the city for sure. My
concern blasts into outer space. Jarod’s fingers brush mine on the sly, and I
focus on quelling my racing heart and frantic breathing.

That holds for all of thirty seconds.

The minute Logan steps into the room, my
heart starts skidding around, demanding an outlet. Blood rushes to my brain,
dulling my senses and rendering me a silent quivering mess. Handsome as hell in
his fitted black tuxedo, he covertly scans the room, a slight frown creasing
his brow. Jarod’s hand clamps down on mine and he pinches me. Hard. The roaring
in my ears subsides as I concentrate on the feel of his fingers digging into
mine.

A tall red-haired older lady clings to
Logan’s arm. With her hair swept off her face in a graceful chignon, her pale
face openly displays naked terror. Logan pats her arm and pulls out a chair. He
sits down beside her, immediately taking her hand in his.

What is he doing here? And
why?
Neve said his father was an important bullion
with direct ties to the president.
So, is he here too? And who is the lady
at his side?

A subtle dig in my ribs pulls me back into
the moment. Straightening up, I studiously avoid looking in Logan’s direction
and focus on inhaling and exhaling until my composure reappears.

Acute awareness keeps me on edge while I
attend to my duties. Grateful that I’m on the other side of the table from
Logan, I serve the various courses to my assigned guests as unobtrusively as
possible.

My nerves are totally frayed by the time
the main course has been served. I’m clearing plates at the top of the table
when the tail end of a conversation snares my interest. “What of the
experiments in Sector Twenty?” the president asks quietly.

“The latest round failed; however, we’ve
made a significant breakthrough,” Vin’s supervisor replies.

The president grimaces. “The longer this
goes on, the more uncomfortable I feel. Perhaps we should revert to the initial
plan.” He scrubs a hand over his jaw.

The dark-haired man coughs and tips his
chin down. “We will stay the course, and it will work. This is the best plan
for both our people.” His heavily accented timbre confirms he’s not from around
here.

“Yes,” the president says, a smile gracing
his thin lips. “This is the best plan. Yes, yes. We will stay the course.”

“Move along,” a curt voice says as a hand
applies not-so subtle pressure to my lower back. I look up at Ms. Mountbatten.
“Into the kitchen. Now.” Her clipped tenor brokers no argument. Out of the
corner of my eye, I notice Logan staring at me as I walk the length of the
table. His eyes follow my movements, and little sweat beads dot my brow. The
battle-axe discreetly prods me toward the kitchen.

She lambasts me the minute we are behind
closed doors. Up pop my shields and out flies my concern. After she’s gotten it
all out of her system—including the requisite threats to have me thrown off her
service—I mutter the usual platitudes, and she lets me off with a final
warning.

I step back into the room, and two pairs
of eyes find mine. Jarod visibly relaxes. Logan’s eyes narrow suspiciously.

Jarod is oblivious.

Logan is anything but.

He can’t know it’s me! It’s
impossible!

An invisible cord ignites the space
between Logan and me, buzzing and sparking, as if it was a tangible thing. Keen
to create distance, I move to the far end of the table and begin clearing more
plates.

The next couple of hours pass by in
torturous slow motion. I stay as far away from Logan as possible, but the weird
electric charge hovers in the background like a lingering stench. Each incline
of his head strikes fear into my heart, and I intercept a bunch of sly looks
directed my way.

It’s inconceivable, but somehow he knows
it’s me.

I can’t get out of here quick enough. I’m
debating my options when I spot Horace Tonnard, the vice president, sidling out
the service passageway. My senses flare perceptively.

Without pausing to think, I walk swiftly
to the corridor and push through the swinging double doors. I pass by the
kitchen, the bathroom, and staff room, until the sound of hushed conversation
tickles my eardrums and I slow down. Flattening against the wall, I cross
myself and pop my head around the corner. I retract immediately, pulse
pounding. The VP and the dark-haired foreigner are deep in discussion mere feet
away. Straining my ears, I try to latch onto the words.

“We need more girls,” the dark-haired man
says, in his strange accent.

“That’s becoming problematic,” the VP
replies.

“I don’t care how you fix it, just fix
it.”

I’m so engrossed in my eavesdropping that
I don’t heed the approaching timid footsteps.

A hand clamps firmly over my mouth, and an
arm wraps securely around my waist. Manic fluttering pummels my chest, and I’m
close to hyperventilating. A mad rush of blood to my head blurs my vision, and
my body slumps, feeling weightless, boneless. 

Incapable of mounting any defense, I’m
helpless as my captor drags me backward along the corridor.

I’m hauled into a dark side room. A switch is flicked and
the room floods with light. We’re in some type of storage closet. The
restraints around my mouth and waist are removed as I’m spun around to face my
captor. Logan’s mouth is set in a hard, firm line. “What the hell are you
doing?” he hisses.

I invoke an old reliable strategy. When in
doubt, deny, deny, deny. “Who are you? What do you want with me?”

“Cut the crap, Sadie. I know it’s you.”

I can be stubborn when I need to be. “You
are clearly mistaking me for someone else. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to
get back to my job.” My hand curls around the door handle, and I pull the door
open.

Logan slams it shut again with the palm of
his hand, and he spins me around, forcing my back into the door. Reaching up,
he whips the wig off my head in one fast, fluid motion.

Oh, crap.

“I was right!” He grits his teeth and his
jaw flexes.

“How did you know it was me?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions.”

He’s livid. I see it in his eyes, and I
hear it in his voice.

“And you don’t get to hold me against my
will.” I yank the wig out of his hands and stuff it on my head.

“Goddammit, Sadie.” He presses his
forehead to mine, his powerful body crushing against me.

The image of Ria wrapped around him rises
to the forefront of my mind, effectively deflecting the bolt of desire igniting
my insides. It’s like being doused in icy cold water. “Get. Off. Me.”

He jerks back, stunned by my tone. A noise
in the outside corridor distracts us both. Raising a finger to his lips, he
cautions me to stay quiet. As if I hadn’t figured that out myself. I glare at
him. When the footsteps recede, he refocuses on me. “We don’t have time to
debate this. You need to get out of here before he makes the connection. Come
on.” Sliding me to the side, he takes my hand as he tentatively opens the door
and peeks out.

“Before who makes what connection?” I
hiss.

He ignores me on purpose and I’m instantly
mad. I attempt to wriggle my hand from his, but he tightens his grip. “Don’t
fight me.”

“There’s no need to go all Neanderthal man
on me.” I pout.

“Logan? Logan?” Someone calls out
anxiously in front of us. Logan curses as the red-haired lady rounds the bend.
“There you are.” She looks relieved.

Up close, I notice the smattering of gray
hairs dotting her hairline and tiny fine lines that crease the skin at her
eyes. Her gaze is shrewd as she rakes over our conjoined hands. “This is her?”

Logan nods tersely, and her eyes soften.

“What about me?” I shoot Logan a sidelong
glance.

“My dear,” the lady says, taking my free
hand in hers. “It’s so lovely to meet you. Logan has told me all about—”

“Meme,” Logan interrupts, peering
worriedly over her shoulder. “Now isn’t the time. I need to get Sadie out of
here, and you need to go back to the hall. I’ll return as quickly as I can.”

“I understand.” She releases my hand.  Her
kind eyes glisten. “Thank you.”

“I, ah … for what?”

“For hope.”

“Evana, please.” Logan speaks in a calm
controlled manner. Dropping my hand, he pulls her into a gentle hug. “Go back
and wait for me. I won’t be long. When I return, we’ll leave, okay?”

She kisses his cheek before exiting. Logan
relaxes a smidgeon. He quickly scans the corridor. “We’ll have to go through
the kitchen. Come on.” He threads his fingers through mine and bundles me
through the doors.

Ms. Mountbatten charges forward the minute
she notices me. “I’m sorry, sir. I’ll have her removed immediately.”

I sling my most venomous look her way.
She’s all too ready to point the finger of blame when she doesn’t actually know
if I’ve done anything wrong!

“That won’t be necessary. I’ll be
escorting the young lady home myself.” Logan stares into her eyes.

“But, sir …” Her eyes glaze over.
“Delightful.” She beams at me. “As you are.”

Logan moves me to the service elevator and
pushes the button.

“What did you do to her?” I ask the minute
we step inside.

“What?” He feigns ignorance. “Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.” I plant my hands on
my hips.

“I don’t care.” Drawing his wrist to his
mouth, he talks quietly into the thick black and silver watch.

“What is that?” I ask, wondering where
I’ve seen it before.

“Nothing for you to be concerned about.”

His deliberate vagueness and casual
dismissal infuriates me. “How dare you speak to me like that!? Who do you think
you are?”

“Someone who’s trying to save your ass,
yet again.” He emphasizes the last word.

“I didn’t ask for your help, nor do I want
it. Why do you even care?”

He sighs in frustration. “Why do you ask
so many questions?”

“Why are you such a douche?” I throw back
at him.

His lips curl up as the elevator door
opens. He propels me out into the dark alleyway. Haydn steps out of the
shadows. “Take her home, and make sure she stays there.”

“Stop manhandling me.” I twist out of
Logan’s grip. “I am not your property.”

“Stars! Why are you making this so
difficult?” Although his voice has risen, he’s not quite yelling at me. Yet. A
fire burns behind his eyes. Spinning around, he slams his clenched fist
repeatedly into the concrete wall. Ouch. That has got to hurt.

“Logan?” Haydn says, concern lacing his
tone.

“Get her out of here before I do something
I’ll regret.” He storms inside as Haydn takes my arm and steers me away. The
black and silver watch strapped to his wrist reflects under the lamplight, and
I realize it’s the same watch Logan wears. And Neve too, I acknowledge, finally
remembering where I’d seen it before. Weird. But on the scale of recent
weirdness, it barely registers.

***

Haydn left as soon as we reached my apartment, and now I’m
all alone with my addled thoughts. I twist onto my side in the bed and rub my
tired eyes. Tonight was supposed to be about gaining answers, not adding more
questions. My brain struggles to make sense of all I learned at the ball.

Who is the dark-haired man, and why was he
talking to Dante in the Mock-Up Facility if he isn’t Vin’s supervisor as I now
suspect? What types of experiments are they conducting in Sector Twenty and
why? The troubling conversation with the VP is also concerning. Why do they
need more girls, and what are they doing to them? This must be tied up with the
girls who are going missing from the Outer Circle on a nightly basis. I shudder
as all manner of horrific visions enter my mind.

I can’t wait to talk to Jarod about what
I’ve discovered. I sent him a mail the minute I got back. I deliberately didn’t
mention him to Logan or Haydn as I was trying to keep him out of the picture.
But he’s probably freaking out over my sudden disappearance.

My mind naturally switches to Logan. Who
exactly is he, and why was he there with that woman? I’d also love to know how
he figured out it was me underneath the layers of disguise. The bizarre way he
dealt with Ms. Mountbatten didn’t go unnoticed by me either. There’s something
about Logan that isn’t usual, isn’t normal, and I’m determined to get to the
bottom of it.

***

I update Jarod fully the next morning, and he’s as puzzled
as I am regarding the experiments in Sector Twenty. Not gleaning much that was
of use himself, he’s delighted I managed to uncover two different nuggets of
information, and he promises to investigate further.

***

The next two weeks fly by. Mercifully, school keeps me busy,
and I throw myself into my studies with gusto. My class tutor—noticing my
enthusiasm—signed me up for some additional projects and proposed my name as a
student mentor. I’ve already begun harassing Vin in relation to the new project
positions the government is offering to select participants of “The
Experimento.” I’m determined to throw my name into the ring early, hence my
over-eagerness.

In my spare time, I mainly hang out with
Fern and Jarod. Fern was the one to tell us about the government’s new TV
program highlighting life in Thalassic City. According to her dad, they are
airing a weekly hour-long program showing edited highlights of day-to-day life
here. Presumably, it’s their way of enticing as many people as possible to sign
up for a new life underwater.

I try to catch Jenna on those rare
occasions when she isn’t with The Hulk, but I haven’t spent nearly as much time
with her as I’d like. She is spending an increasing amount of time at his
apartment, and I’m alone most nights.

 I’ve made it clear to Haydn and Neve I’d
prefer to keep my distance. Nevertheless, they still hover around me all the
time. Every so often, I notice a pang of sadness on Neve’s face, and I’m
tempted to cave, but I have to remind myself she’s lying to me, and I can’t
trust anyone who won’t tell me the truth.

Jarod continues to dig for dirt, but so
far, he hasn’t discovered anything new. Or if he has, he isn’t sharing. Though
there’s no denying he’s one of the good guys. He hounded me until I made a
medical appointment. The doctor confirmed my symptoms are a result of the
synthetic environment, and she’s insisting I attend weekly appointments so she
can keep a closer eye on me. Before I left, she gave me some pain shots, which
have soothed the aches.

Everywhere except my heart.

Of course, I see Logan around campus, but
he avoids me as if I’m contaminated. While I have many unanswered questions,
I’ve tried to wash that boy right out of my hair. Most days it’s easy to avoid
looking at him because some adoring female usually accompanies him. I don’t
think he’s been with the same girl twice, mind you, but it still hurts like
crazy.

I’m constantly giving myself little pep
talks. It’s not like Logan and I had anything real going on, and I’ve never
even kissed him. So I can’t fool myself into thinking I have some claim on him.
But he’s the first boy I’ve felt a true connection with and the only one I’ve
seriously entertained as a romantic possibility.

My last conversation with Neve and Haydn
often flits through my mind, and the suggestion I might be precious to Logan
keeps me going on days when I’m feeling down about the whole situation. While I
try not to dwell on him too long, and I won’t become one of those girls who is
solely defined by the boy she’s crushing on, some days, emotion gets the best
of me and the rejection weighs heavy on my mind.

I auditioned for the TC Drama Club, and I
was delighted when they confirmed I’m in line for a part. Excitement competes
with unease as I make my way on foot to the auditorium after school. Today is
the day when the cast is announced.

The sight of a familiar head stops me dead
in my tracks.

Logan disappears through the front
entrance ahead of me.
What’s he doing here?
I stride forward with
renewed vigor.

Covertly, I scan the vast auditorium for
Logan, but I can’t see him anywhere. My heart thuds expectantly.

I sit in a row at the front while the director
greets us. “I’d like to thank you all for coming, and I’m pleased to inform you
that everyone who auditioned has been chosen for a part in our forthcoming
production of
Romeo and Juliet
.” My ears perk up at that. My
conversation with Neve back in the Mock-Up Facility rises to the forefront of
my mind, and a guilty feeling overcomes me. I miss her company. I wish she
could learn to trust me enough to share the truth, so that we can resume our
friendship.

When my name is called, I step up onto the
stage. “Congratulations,” the director says. “You’re our Juliet.”

My jaw hits the floor. “Seriously?” I
stare at him in shock.

He chuckles good-naturedly. “Yes. You’ll
be perfect.” His fingers weave through my hair. “With the right wig and costume,
you’ll be the perfect, ethereal-looking Juliet. Beautiful.” He taps two long
fingers off his lips as he peruses me, and I don’t want to know what visual
images he’s conjuring in his mind.

A boisterous cough from the middle of the
auditorium distracts him. “Now, where was I?” he asks himself. “Yes!” He grins.
“Time to announce your Romeo.” He looks down at his list.

As he says this, my heart spirals to
coronary-inducing proportions. I’m well accustomed with Shakespeare’s
Romeo
and Juliet
, and I’ve just realized that I’m going to be kissing some
strange boy on stage. Hell. Why on earth did I sign up for this? Stretching
oneself outside the usual comfort zone is a nuts strategy, I concur.

“Conal M—” He stops mid-sentence and his
eyes glaze over. He peers at his list again and scribbles something out. With a
quick flourish of his pen, he smiles and tips his head up. “Dante Chandler.
Please step up.”

I stumble back in shock as Dante saunters
up to the stage with a swagger. Wiping my sweaty palms down the front of my
jeans, I avoid looking at him and stare out into the crowd. My eyes find Logan
in an instant; my terror is perfectly matched in his gaze.