Anew: Book Two: Hunted (4 page)

“I’m good,” I say more calmly. “What about you?” He was with
me on the raids to round up the HPF leadership and he fully shared the burden
of the interrogations that have just concluded.

“I was thinking of treating myself to a nice warm bubble
bath but I’ve been diverted,” Hollis drawls.

My mouth twitches at the image of the straw-haired, buzz-cut
Kentuckian with ice blue eyes and a penchant for boar hunting lolling around in
a bubble bath, at least without appropriate feminine company.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“Not sure but Gab’s concerned so I thought we’d better give
you a heads-up.”

Gab is Gabriella Innocente Darque, the six feet plus
French-Haitian cyber-engineering whiz kid who runs information security for
Slade Enterprises. If she’s worried, I am, too.

“Go on.” I say.

Ten minutes later, I get off the link and stare into the
distance, thinking about what I’ve just learned. Rumors, that’s all there is,
nothing more. Gab made that clear when she joined the conversation.

“It’s just a vibe I’m getting,” she said. “But I can’t shake
it. For a couple of days now we’ve been hearing about more unrest below. That’s
why there are so many police on the streets. The problem is I’m not picking up
anything like that myself. As far as I can tell, the scavs are as beaten down
as ever. Plus there’s the gala tonight at the Crystal Palace. If the situation
is as tense as the city leaders want us to believe, why aren’t they increasing
security there?”

I can think of a couple of reasons why not. The Crystal
Palace is in the park, an exclusionary zone for almost all workers and a place
where a trespassing scavenger would be lucky to get out alive. But in addition,
surrounding the place with heavily armed police would put a damper on the
night’s festivities and make people question the competency of the city’s leaders.

I consider calling Edward, telling him what I’ve learned,
and suggesting that he enjoy a quiet evening at home with his grandmother and
Amelia but the whole thing may be a false alarm. Not that I think Gab’s wrong,
I don’t. Something’s up but the chances of it having anything to do with the
Crystal Ball seem remote. All the same, I’m not about to take risks with
Amelia’s safety.

In the back of my mind, I know I’m grabbing a convenient
rationalization for what I really want to do anyway but I don’t care. Heading
for the shower, I can’t contain a wry smile.

Gab may be a weird pick for Fairy Godmother but thanks to
her I’m going to the ball after all.

Amelia

S
et on the edge of the
park beside a reflecting pool filled with hundreds of floating lanterns, the
Crystal Palace looks as though it belongs in a fairy tale. Sparkling panes of
glass supported by an almost invisible titanium lattice reflect the glow from
the building’s vast interior. Entering, the guests become shadows back lit by
the radiance. I can’t help thinking that they look as though they have ascended
into a world even more rarified and beautiful than the one that surrounds me.

To the west beyond the park the sun is setting in a blaze of
glory that turns the building’s dome into a prism casting rainbows across every
surface. Music wafts from speakers in the nearby trees--Mozart’s “Eine Kleine
Nachtmusik”. The air is filled with the scents of rare perfumes and the
laughter of beautifully dressed men and women.

Gravel crunches under the thin soles of my ridiculously high
heels as I walk beside Adele and Edward from where the limo dropped us off. The
smile I’ve pinned on is making my face ache. I can’t stop thinking about the
children I saw. They’ve even managed to push Ian from my thoughts, if only for
the moment.

My hand is tucked into the crook of Edward’s arm. He places
his own over mine and squeezes gently. “You look lovely, Amelia.”

I know his intent is to help me relax and I’m grateful for
that. But the truth is that I could be as ugly as sin and I would still be
drawing admiring glances because I’m wearing the McClellan diamonds. Edward
brought them to me in my room as I finished dressing. As my maid stood off to
one side, trying not to gape, he opened one black velvet box after another and
laid them out before me.

“Susannah rarely wore these,” he said. “She thought they
were a bit ostentatious but they are a family tradition and I think you might
find them…useful.”

I understood what he was telling me. By wearing the pieces,
I will be distinguishing myself further from Susannah. People would be even
less likely to suspect the connection between us.

As much as I understand that, my first glimpse of the
diamonds that now collar my throat, dangle from my earlobes, encircle both my
wrists, and nestle in my hair stunned me. The smallest is at least a carat, the
largest many, many times that. Beautifully cut, set in white gold, they glitter
with the fire of the inner earth.

Among the larger stones, Edward tells me, are fabled gems
smuggled out in the garments of aristocrats fleeing revolutions, pilfered from
the treasure palaces of rajahs, and discovered amid the ruins of ancient
Amazonian temples. Any one of them is worth a king’s ransom. Taken together,
they are a declaration of my family’s power and my own identity as a McClellan.

Approaching the Crystal Palace, I am vividly aware of the
avid stares directed at me, the quick tilting together of heads, and the
groundswell of whispers. The thought occurs to me that more than any guest, the
McClellan diamonds are the real belle of the ball. For the first time that
evening, my smile is genuine.

The three of us give no sign of noticing the attention we’re
drawing. My brother has been pre-occupied since we left the residence but my
grandmother is livelier. She leans close to me and says, “Chin up, my dear.
It’s all in a night’s work.”

A few weeks ago, the notion that attending a ball could be
called ‘work’ would have baffled me. But now I understand that it is in
settings like this that the true business of the city--and the world--is done.
Business of all sorts, as it turns out.

Adele has let slip that inquiries have been made regarding
the young, previously unknown, and apparently very eligible McClellan who has
suddenly appeared in Society. Discretely, young men--and young women on the
chance that such is my inclination--are being put forward by ambitious
relatives or on their own behalf. It’s the way of such things, my grandmother
assures me. Money is drawn to money. Love, or at least affection, can follow or
not as the case may be. What matters is that there be no disruption to the
established social order. It’s all very pragmatic, she says, even as she
dismisses the thought that I should consider any such marriage for myself.

I wonder what the ambitious parents and their progeny would
think if they had any idea of the truth beneath the identity that Ian arranged
for me. Would they recoil in horror or would they be too blinded by the glare
of the McClellan diamonds to care?

Not that it matters. The only man I can bear to think of in
such intimate terms is--

Here.

My head turns in response to an attraction that my body
acknowledges even before my conscious mind is aware of it. I glance around
quickly, certain that I must be wrong. The Crystal Ball is exactly the sort of
event that Ian stays away from.

At first, I see nothing apart from the mass of people. But
then the crowd shifts enough to give me a clear view across the ballroom. I
catch a glimpse of a head towering inches above smaller men, dark brown hair
shot through with shards of gold, the sweep of broad, muscled shoulders tapering
into a powerful back and--

My reaction is visceral. In an instant, the tempo of my
heart increases. I am swept by a wave of heat that makes me belatedly aware of
how cold I have felt throughout these long, empty days and nights.
Shamelessly,
I drink in the sight of him even as my thoughts tumble over each other.

Does his presence mean that the threat from the HPF is over?
If that’s the case, I’m immensely relieved that he’s no longer putting himself
in danger for my sake. But why would he choose to attend the Crystal Ball? Does
he have a fondness for dancing that I don’t know about? Nervous laughter
bubbles up in me at that thought. I press my lips together tightly.

Unlike many of the men, he is conservatively dressed in
formal eveningwear, the black waistcoat and trousers contrasting with the ivory
slash of his shirt, dove gray tie and matching waistcoat. The veneer of
elegance suits him yet it is also at odds with the aura of barely contained
power that he exudes. I cannot bring myself to look away from him.

 “Is everything all right, dear?” my grandmother asks.
Her beautiful face creases with concern. She follows the direction of my gaze
and immediately brightens. “Oh, good, Helene and Marianne are here. Let’s go
say ‘hello’.” She grasps my hand, intent on drawing me along.

“No!” I pull back sharply, fighting to control myself. At
her startled look, I say more softly, “That is, you go. I’ll join you…later.”
Much later as in never. My single greatest goal for the evening has just become
to avoid contact with Ian for his own sake. There is nothing I yearn for more
except to be with him, held by him, my breath filled with his, his mouth
claiming me and his--

“You look flushed,” Edward says, glancing down at me. “Is
something wrong?”

“It’s the heat,” I blurt even though the temperature inside
the Crystal Palace is perfect. It would never be allowed to be anything else.
“I’m just going to--” I gesture vaguely toward where I think the ladies’ room
may be.

“Of course,” he says. “I’ll hold off the hordes of your
would-be dance partners as long as I can but hurry back.”

With a nod that in no way expresses my true intentions, I
flee. I can’t get away quickly enough even though there is really nowhere for
me to go. I could hike across the park to the house but as secure as the park
supposedly is, I’m not about to do that while weighted down with enough
diamonds to buy a small country. Not to mention all the concern I’d cause
Edward and Adele if I suddenly disappeared.

I just need a few minutes to myself. Ian may only be putting
in a token appearance with the intention of leaving shortly. But even if he
plans on remaining all the way through to the grand finale fireworks, the
Crystal Palace is huge and it’s filled with hundreds of people. There’s no
reason for our paths to cross.

A sudden thought occurs to me. What if he isn’t here alone?
What if he’s with a companion? That debutante people were whispering he might
be interested in, or the divorcee, the one who’s rumored to be into light
bondage? The bolt of jealousy ignited by the thought of Ian with another woman
makes me reel. The lights are suddenly too bright, the sounds too piercing.
Colors swirl behind my eyes. My vision begins to blur around the edges as
dizziness threatens.

Forgetting the ladies’ room, I push my way against the crowd
toward the main doors. The sharp edge of panic is building inside me. I taste
metal and realize that I’ve bitten my lower lip hard enough to draw blood.

The physical pain is of no consequence but the emotional…
That’s entirely different. I blink back tears as it occurs to me that not long
ago I was afraid that I had no will of my own. As it turns out, I needn’t have
worried. I’m perfectly capable of getting furiously angry at Ian, disobeying
him without a single qualm, saying ‘no’ to him, arguing with him, and even
sending him away. What I can’t do is stop longing for him. Logic, I’m
realizing, has little part to play in human relationships. The heart wants what
it wants, devoid of reason or sense.

Outside, I quickly move away from the guests who are still
arriving. I’m not paying much attention to where I’m going until I realize that
I’m standing beside the reflecting pool. By the time I notice, it’s too late.
The dizziness returns with a vengeance, hurtling me into another agonizing
memory.

The white-coated technicians are priming their machines.
Soon the pain will begin. I open my mouth to scream but my throat is paralyzed.
Panic strikes and I struggle to breathe only to realize that I can’t. I have
never taken a breath, never eaten, hardly moved of my own volition. My body is
maintained. My mind is left to fend for itself. As for my heart…

Where do the people go when they aren’t on the other side of
the glass walls? Where am I when I am not awake to see them?

Time passes, moments merging one into another. Suddenly, in
a flicker, there are more beings on the other side of the glass, many more,
working intently. So many, so busy that I try to brace myself for the agony
that is to come. It does but not in any way I could expect.

Motion--I am moving!

Different walls surround me, a room I have never seen before
but I hardly notice.

The level of liquid in my chamber is suddenly dropping.
Terror fills me. How can I exist without the medium that has sustained me all
this time?

I begin to thrash and am restrained. A tube is forced down
my throat. Air fills my lungs for the first time.

Light unfiltered by fluid strikes my eyes. Sounds assail
me…the murmur of voices, the beep of machinery…

I am strapped down on a hard surface. Something that I can’t
see is attached to my head. Pain and fear are so much my normal companions that
I hardly notice them anymore. But suddenly there is more…much more…something
faint, elusive, growing…

Someone.

Awareness explodes within me. For the first time, I have
words and with them a flood of concepts and ideas that they illuminate. From
all that, my mind forms a single, transforming thought:

I.

I exist. I am.

I blink and Ian is coming toward me out of the shadows. His
stride is steady, his eyes intent. The world is falling away before me. I reach
out frantically, feeling the brush of his fingers, the touch of his breath in
the moment before hope slips from my grasp and I plummet into drowning
darkness.