The Determining (5 page)

Charlie ignored the backhanded compliment. “Thank you.” She needed to end this conversation. Now. “Well, it was good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too. You know, I think we should get together with Ruth. I could get the two of you tickets to one of my shows.” She beamed. “By the way, how is Ruth?”

Before she could answer, the barista called, “Next.” Charlie’s eyes went wide as she realized the girl was talking to her.

“Um, hi.” Her voice came out breathy.

“What can I get you?” The girl’s eyes flicked to Cornelia before resting on Charlie.

“I’ll take a small Earl Grey tea, black.” Her mind raced, frantic for a way to pass the invitation to the girl without Cornelia noticing. She couldn’t think of a way, not when Cornelia stood at her elbow watching every move she made.

The barista nodded to the scanner. “Three credits.” Charlie took the envelope in her hand before placing her wrist under the scanner’s red beam. The device pinged.

She looked the barista in the eye. “For Nemo.”

Without any reaction, she pocketed the envelope, calling, “Next.”

It was done.

With a sigh of relief, Charlie moved aside to wait for her drink. “I saw Ru—” The words died in her throat as she caught Cornelia’s look. The girl’s hazel eyes, which had been friendly and excited a moment before, were now hard and serious. It was as if a completely different woman stood next to Charlie. She could almost see the wheels revolving in Cornelia’s mind as she processed the encounter she’d just witnessed.

Almost as soon as Charlie noted these details, Cornelia’s face returned to its previously happy state. But her eyes remained closed off. “I’ll see you at the party, Charlotte.” She was gone before Charlie could reply.

The nausea reared its head, mounting as she waited for her order. When the barista set her drink on the counter, she grabbed the beverage but threw it into the garbage outside the door. Cornelia had seen her hand over the invitation. It looked strange, Charlie handing the invitation over to a random barista. Would Cornelia mention it to someone? She shook her head. She’d done as instructed and it was too late to take it back. For the time being, all she wanted was to go home and forget this day had even happened.

She walked a block before spotting an empty cab. She was about to slide inside when her phone vibrated from her bag. She considered ignoring it, but grabbed it with a sigh. Her inbox flashed, indicating an email.

Good work, but it’s not over yet. See you at the party. –N

Heart galloping, she typed a quick response, but the email was encrypted. She had no way to contact the mysterious Nemo. Frustrated, she shoved the phone in her bag.

“Are you getting in or not, sweetheart?” The driver called, annoyed.

She climbed in, slamming the door harder than necessary. The driver muttered to himself as he pulled away from the curb.

Charlie watched the world fly by the window. Everything blurred until it became a mass of vibrant shapes rather than distinguishable objects. In the sea of colors, she felt completely isolated.

He watched Charlotte as she passed the invitation to his daughter, Viveca. A weight seemed to fall from her shoulders the moment the envelope left her hand, allowing her to collect herself again. He was struck by how much she resembled her mother. Both possessed the same regal elegance and fierce green eyes.

The girl’s tension returned when she looked back at her companion. Cornelia said something before marching toward the door. She shot him a quick look when she passed his table. Her eyebrows rose in surprise, but she had the presence of mind to continue without stopping to speak to him. She disappeared through the door, heading down the street.

He returned his attention to Charlotte. Her followed Viveca while she waited for her drink, her fingers tapping against her thigh as she rocked back and forth on her heels. Seeing her discomfort made him question the wisdom of his plan for the first time.

This girl was an essential piece of the puzzle, yet ill-suited. He wished it could have been anyone else. Someone stronger than the naïve, nervous rich girl he now watched. But he knew it must be Charlotte Grey or no one at all.

Viveca set her drink on the counter. Charlie nodded her thanks before walking to the door. Outside, she paused beside the trashcan, then considered her drink. She dropped the full cup inside the garbage before hurrying down the street.

He scowled at the waste but didn’t let it distract him. He jumped up from his table, not wanting to lose sight of her. He followed far enough behind so as not to be noticed. She wove through the crowds of people, keeping a constant eye on the street.

The moment was too good to pass up. He pulled out his phone. Writing a quick message, he signed it,
N.
He hit send just as she hailed an empty cab. When her phone received the message, she froze, as if she knew it was from him. She pulled her phone out, reading his words.

Her shoulders tensed and her jaw clenched. In that moment the scared, unsure girl he’d watched in the coffee shop morphed into a fierce woman with anger in her eyes. Her fingers flew over her phone. He knew the moment she tried to send her response and failed. She nearly threw herself into the cab, slamming the door so hard that people on the sidewalk shot her curious glances.

He couldn’t help chuckling as the cab pulled away. Any doubts he’d had disappeared the moment that angry look crossed her face. She would do fine, so long as he could push her to keep that anger and determination close at hand.

Stuffing his hands into his coat pockets, he headed toward the subway station. Usually he avoided public transportation. Being stuck underground with few escape routes didn’t appeal to him. But, as the quickest way to get back to the cathedral, he couldn’t let his claustrophobia get the better of him. Especially since he was already running late.

Like all cities in the Confederation, the surface of Portestas was broken up into rich and poor districts. Anything below street level belonged to the lower classes. This division became more obvious as he descended the stairs, heading toward the subway platform.

The graffiti-covered walls looked like they were one strong wind away from collapsing. A man wearing little more than rags sat on a bench, muttering to himself. His greasy hair clung to his head and a questionable smell permeated the air around him. He leaned back against the wall, oblivious to its structural flaws.

“Hello, Harold.”

The homeless man looked up at the sound of his name. “Ah, it’s you.” He smiled widely, revealing black teeth. “I haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

Nemo sat down on the bench next to him. “I have a big business deal in the works. I’ve been spending most days going over the details. How’ve you been?” he inquired with genuine interest.

Harold shrugged, looking away. “Things aren’t so good. I’ve been looking for work but no one wants to hire an old geezer like me. Too many young, blue collar guys in better shape, willing to do anything for a credit.” He shook his head, sadness filling his voice. “Times are hard, my friend. Very hard. I don’t know how much longer us normal folks are gonna survive.”

“A change is coming. I can feel it.”

Harold glanced at him. Utter hopelessness filled his eyes. “Not in my lifetime.”

Nemo wished he could tell Harold everything. He wanted to give the man a reason to keep living, but he couldn’t. One never knew which walls had eyes and ears. So he simply gave Harold’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I have a good feeling. Don’t lose hope.”

The rumble of the approaching train caused plaster and concrete to rain down on them. Harold smiled faintly, brushing some of the dust from his face. “You better get going. Another train won’t be by for a while.”

Nemo grabbed a small scanner from his coat pocket, holding it over his chip. After pressing a few buttons, a red light appeared on his skin, pulsing quickly. Before Harold could protest, he grabbed the homeless man’s hand, flipping it over to expose his wrist. With another press of a button, the scanner came to life. Rather than a red light, blue light illuminated Harold’s skin.

“I can’t take this,” Harold protested, trying to pull his wrist away but Nemo held on tighter.

“You aren’t taking anything. I’m giving them to you. I hope these credits can help.”

Harold’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “You better catch your train.”

“I’ll see you around.” Nemo stood, pocketing the scanner.

Harold nodded. “Thank you.” His voice cracked.

Nemo returned the nod and hurried toward the train, managing to slip inside just as the doors closed. He turned, watching Harold as the train pulled away from the platform. The homeless man smiled as tears streaked down his cheeks, leaving wet trails in the dirt caking his face.

Nemo watched until the platform and Harold were out of sight. Picking a seat, he settled down on the dirty plastic bench. Only three other people occupied the car with him. A few rows away, a little girl sat beside her mother. Beyond them, a man dressed in ripped jeans and a black sweatshirt sat motionless. His menacing eyes fixed on the little girl as his hand slid into his pocket.

The mother rested her head against the window, breathing evenly, deep in sleep and oblivious to the predator mere feet away. Her daughter swung her feet back and forth, humming to herself. She wore a pink coat that hung off her frail frame. It had faded with age and small holes in the fabric allowed him a glimpse of the purple shirt underneath. Her light blonde hair was pulled up into pigtails held in place with mismatched blue and green bows. She couldn’t have been much older than four.

Nemo tensed when the man used his free hand to gesture to the girl. He curled his finger, beckoning her over to him.

Fear filled the child’s eyes. “Mama,” she whispered, tapping her mother on the arm. “Mama?”

Her mother stirred but didn’t wake. Leaning into her mother’s side, the little girl shot a nervous look at the man. A sinister grin crossed his face. He stood, moving toward his target with menacing fluidity.

Before he could close the distance between them, Nemo stood. He placed himself in front of the predator, leveling him with a look.

“I suggest you return to your seat.” Nemo spoke with a furious calm.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” the man hissed.

In a flash, Nemo had the man against the wall, holding him there by the neck. “I said, sit back down.”

“Alright,” the man managed to wheeze, his face turning purple.

Nemo loosened his grasp, allowing the man to breathe. Once free from the constricting grip, the man stumbled back to his seat. Slumping in the chair, he kept a wary eye on Nemo.

Rather than returning to his own seat, Nemo stood in front of the mother and daughter, shielding them from sight. He ignored the assailant, knowing the man was too much of a coward to attack him. The mother continued to sleep, unaware of what had almost happened to her daughter.

She woke a few stops later. She eyed Nemo standing in front of them before taking her daughter’s hand protectively. When the train stopped again, the two walked onto the platform. Though it wasn’t his stop, Nemo also exited the train, but not before shooting the man a warning look.

He followed the pair to the surface, watching as they entered a nearby apartment building. Before they disappeared inside, the little girl looked back. She smiled at him, giving him a shy wave.

Harold was wrong. Change was coming. Nemo would make sure of it.

Nemo stuffed his hands in the pockets of his sleek black overcoat. He carefully avoided a pothole filled with rainwater, cigarette butts, and empty condom wrappers as he turned up a long driveway.

At the top of the driveway stood the empty shell of a once magnificent cathedral. Ivy crawled up its crumbling walls. In some places, the thick vines made it impossible to see the stone beneath. The stained-glass windows were long gone, broken by looters and troublesome adolescents. Traces of colored glass still clung to the lead that once served as the outline of a cross.

He couldn’t remember seeing the cathedral in its former glory. It, along with almost every religious building and center, had been abandoned when the chip took over. With the introduction of this new convenience, people lost their need for religion. Though a select few still clung to the old faiths, technology became the new altar of worship and the sacred buildings died with the people’s devotion.

A rusting wrought-iron fence surrounded the cathedral. It towered over Nemo as he neared, casting faint shadows in the gray light. He pushed one of the two intricate gates open. It moved with a protesting squeak.

Trudging up the stairs, he couldn’t suppress the heaviness that had plagued him since seeing Harold. He crossed the threshold, closing the thick doors behind him with a sigh.

“What’s with the frown?” The gruff voice didn’t startle him. He turned, watching the speaker materialize from the shadows.

“Owen.” Nemo examined him. He stood well over six feet tall and boasted broad shoulders that connected to thickly muscled arms. Tattoos peaked out above the collar of his long-sleeved shirt and inked the backs of his hands. He’d first met this beast of a man fifteen years earlier. At the time, both men bonded over their mutual criminal status.

“The Leaders are already assembled. They’re impatient,” Owen warned.

“They always are,” Nemo acknowledged with a nod. Noting the curious look on Owen’s face, he continued, “She delivered the invitation.”

Owen nodded, keeping his thoughts hidden by a composed expression. “You better get going, boss.”

They parted ways, Owen slipping back into the shadows and Nemo turning to the spiral stairs that led to the second floor. Angry voices traveled down to him as he climbed, echoing against the narrow cement staircase.

“We were told he’d be here.”

“What is the point of a gathering if he isn’t here?”

“I’m not waiting any longer.”

Nemo turned the corner, running right into Drayton. The ex-military general from the Province of Washington glowered. Used to Drayton’s surly disposition, Nemo didn’t let his size or the terrifying look frighten him.