arbitrate (daynight) (30 page)

She stumbles off in the direction of Henry, and I march over to Kira. I don’t bother to acknowledge Brad, Blake, or Jax. I just pull Kira away.

“Let go of me, Ethan.”
 

“No. We’re going to talk. And it’s going to happen now.”

She yanks her arm away from me and crosses her arms over her chest. “Speak fast so that I can return to my
other
date…the one who came and rescued me when you decided to shove your tongue down your girlfriend’s throat.”

“I’m sorry. I should have told her about you. I should have made the time to go and break things off with her for good. And I should have realized that she would be here tonight. I really am sorry. She’s not the one I wanted to be with tonight. She’s not the one I want. I want to be with
you—
with you and Zander.”

Rather than comforting her, my words seem to make her more angry. “Your
fantasy
of a quaint little family with Zander and me will never happen. You seem to be able to conveniently forget that Zander is not my only child.”

My eyes sink to the floor as if pulled by giant weights. I say quietly, “I didn’t mean it that way, Kira. I know Zander’s not your only child. I just didn’t think it was my place to step in and pretend that I was something I wasn’t.”

“Everything okay here, love?” Jax couldn’t even give me a minute alone with her.

We’re all at a standstill, staring at each other, daring each other to speak. But no one accepts the dare, and the silence threatens to strangle us all.

“What’s going on here?” It’s Alexa’s voice, but I don’t turn to look at her. I refuse to be the one to back down from our three-way glare fest. “People are looking over here. Maybe we should take this outside? Like now.”

“No.” All three of us speak at the same time.

“Seriously. We need to get out of here.”

She tries to physically herd us out, but she’s not strong enough to budge anyone but Kira. “You guys are ridiculous. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you guys had some sort of love triangle going on.”

I wince. Kira winces. Jax winces. And now Alexa knows. It would have been so much better had I just told her. I’m forced to break my stare and look at Alexa. She looks different, and it’s not just because of the “you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me” look on her face. The big chunky necklace is missing. I guess the extra sparkle wasn’t worth the weight. But I digress. Time to fess up. “Kira and I were Cleaved—that’s equivalent to marriage back home. I thought she’d died giving birth to our child. Jax let me believe that it was true. I swear, I thought that it was true when we met.”

Alexa glares at me like the philandering bastard I am. “Married? Child?” She spits at me.

“No longer Cleaved. But yes, we have a son. One that was conceived in a lab.”

She starts backing away. “You deserve whatever you’ve got coming to you.” The crowd’s at full attention, watching the scene as she storms off.

Jax tries to get my attention. “Ethan, let’s go. I’ve got a bad feeling.”

I’ve got a lot of bad feelings right now. But I’m paralyzed, stuck between the angry girlfriend and the angry ex-Cleave. Jax grabs hold of me and starts to pull, but I stand firm.

“Don’t be stupid, Ethan. Let’s get out of here.”
 

Kira speaks, her lips quivering as the words leave her mouth. “Please, Ethan. Let’s take this outside.” I can tell she’s just trying to get me to listen to Jax. She doesn’t actually want to discuss any of this with me.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” I say this to Jax. If Kira were alone, I’d happily leave with her.

He shakes his head and looks really conflicted. Finally he relents. “Fine, don’t leave with us, but
leave
.”

Kira looks completely humiliated and more than ready to abandon ship. So when he whispers something and tugs at her, she happily follows. I try to figure out where I should go. Do I go talk to Alexa? Try to get Kira to listen to me again? Or just run off to my apartment and get my act together first?

I hear the tapping of a microphone, signaling that Henry’s about to give a speech. People’s heads turn away from me and my drama and toward Henry.

“This will be a night we will not soon forget.” Henry’s voice booms through the speaker system. “Raise your glasses and join me in a toast.” He lifts his glass of champagne to the crowd. “To wiping the slate clean and rebuilding this country from the ashes of our mistakes!”
 

I’d point out that his two statements are contradictory, but I’m more intrigued that several people aren’t participating in the toast. Brad is whispering furiously and angrily at Blake who looks at his watch, says something to Brad and then heads towards the door. Violet and Victor are walking away from where Brad is. And the secret service guy I saw earlier is talking into his wrist as he maneuvers through the crowd to the back of the restaurant.

“May our impact be swift and powerful.” Henry raises his glass again and then takes a sip. “Like the shot heard around the world.”

BOOM.

The deafening sound ripples through the room.

I’m thrown from where I’m standing.

Pain slices through me as the room and world fade out.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Blake

A few minutes prior

Brad is gripping my arm with a little too much force.
“Follow Jax. I don’t trust him or any of the Arbiters. They are clearly interested in interfering with our livelihood. Now that Henry’s won the election, they’ll likely pull some kind of power play. I want to know what they have planned the moment they plan it.”

“Now? In the middle of Henry’s speech?” I look at my watch. Brad’s being ridiculous. The only power play Jax has going is one involving Kira and Ethan.

“Yes. Go.”

I walk away from him and towards the restaurant exit. Guys in black suits, who I assume are Secret Service, make me sign out at the entrance. I look at my watch again, so I can note the time. What’s worse? Listening to Henry drone on or getting mixed up in Kira’s latest love triangle? Not that I see Jax and Kira anywhere to interfere. They could be long gone by now. How exactly did Brad expect me to “follow” an Arbiter who could portal anywhere across two worlds in a nanosecond?

Henry’s voice comes through the microphone. “May our impact be swift and powerful. Like the shot heard around the world.”
 

I look back in to see the smug grin on Henry’s face. What I’d do to permanently wipe it off him. He’s clear at the other end of the restaurant, but he might as well be screaming his satisfaction.
We won. We won and there’s nothing the American public can do to prevent an SCI takeover now.
Screw the SCI. I think I prefer to deal with the love triangle. In fact, it’s a relief that I’m not
in
the love triangle. Gads, what a hassle it is having the girl you like have split affections. I’m always going to feel something for Kira, but I’m so happy to have distance from the drama.

A flash of light interrupts my thought. Followed by a fireball and deafening boom.
 

It all happens in a matter of seconds.
 

I’m still in one piece. The blast missed me.

The shock wave doesn’t.
 

Crap.

Air rushes back into the space, bringing with it flying objects.
 

I’m thrown forward, flattened to the ground. I cover my head with my hands to prevent any projectiles from embedding in my brain, but that just means my arms take the brunt of it.

When the whooshing and crashing sounds cease, I crawl back away from the main dining room.

I’ve got a few scratches but nothing too bad.

I pull out my phone and dial 911, trying my best to communicate the severity of the situation and injuries. Who is still in the restaurant? I’m almost certain Jax and Kira left, but what about Ethan? Joshua? Alexa? My mother, Brad, Henry and his family, the Ten…I’m pretty sure they’re all in there. Some small part of me thinks that the world would be better off without the SCI politicians—but I can’t ignore a bunch of injured, dying people. I’d never be able to live with myself. I’ve got to at least account for my family members, Jax and Kira.

A huge chunk of the restaurant ceiling is gone, exposing the sky. Smoke is starting to fill the expansive room, but I can see that the windows are all blown out, and there are glass, dishes, food, furniture parts, and artwork strewn everywhere.
 

There’s a small fire where the blast started. If it spreads, it’ll get ugly. A click-click-click noise catches my attention, and I see water spraying from the intact portions of the ceiling.

Ear-piercing screams fill the air.

People are pushing…

… and tumbling

… and crawling out of the room.

The large foyer outside the restaurant fills with the injured.
 

Oh my Gads—their skin.

Red. Mottled. Shredded. Blistered. Sizzling. Gone.

Chemical burns.

The sprinklers.

I look up. The foyer sprinklers are off but that could change.
 

“Hurry,” I yell into the phone before I throw it down.

I hold my shirt over my face to combat the smoke and search the faces of those streaming out for people I know. Although I recognize many of them, none are the faces I want to see.

The whirring and clicking of the sprinklers stops, but the damage has been done.

I grab ahold of one of the guys in a black suit. “I’m going in. We’ve got to get the rest of the people out of there. They need immediate medical attention. Whatever was in that water is eating them alive.”

He yanks me back, nearly dislocating my elbow. “Leave it to the professionals. They’re on their way up now. You’re not going anywhere.” He slaps a cuff on one of my wrists and then secures me to a heavy iron art piece—a giraffe—in the foyer. “You’re a witness
and
a potential suspect.”

“Are you kidding me? A
suspect
? Henry King’s my uncle. My mother and brother are in there—potentially injured or dead. And you think I’m somehow responsible?” I’m spitting my words at tall, dark, and stupid, loud and full of disgust. “We could be saving lives and you want to interrogate me?”

“I don’t care who you are. You were sure in a hurry to get out of here, right when the blast happened.”

“Fine. I’ll just sit right here.” I sink down to the floor across from the wide entry to the restaurant and scene of the crime, clanging my cuff against the stupid giraffe.
 

First responders start to flood into the space.
It’s about time
. I’m whacked in the head and arm by their equipment as they rush by, given I’m unable to move out of the way.
Don’t mind me. Or feel bad about causing injuries when you’re supposed to be fixing them.

I watch. And wait. And wait. And wait some more.

This is ridiculous.

The government must be running the rescue effort because I’ve never seen anything so slow, painful, or full of red tape in my life.

“It’s not safe to enter.” That’s what the man in charge keeps saying. “No one can go into the restaurant until we’ve made sure it is structurally sound and have neutralized whatever caused the chemical burns.”

The people who got out are in the best shape—and those are the ones being helped.

The ones that need the most help are still inside.

I can hear the whir of helicopters overhead, the stomping of feet up the stairwell as more of the rescue crew arrives, and screams of those in pain and agony. Sharp chemicals burn my nostrils.

It gets to be too much. I lean over and vomit on the Secret Service guy to the left of me. The one that shackled me to this iron giraffe.

A fist connects with my jaw in return. Okay, maybe I did deserve that. I did aim for him.

Spots fill my vision, and I can feel the trickle of blood down my chin. I press my shirt up to my jaw with my free hand and close my eyes.

Minutes tick by. The restaurant area gets sprayed with something that counteracts what they determined to be acid. Then the structural engineers, bomb squad, and some other experts do a sweep, marking hazardous areas. Once they decide it is “relatively safe” to enter, the EMTs are allowed in to attend to the injured but not before being given clear instructions to avoid tampering with evidence and leaving the corpses where they lie.

I watch as victims are pulled from the rubble and brought out of the restaurant.

A stretcher with a familiar face comes out and I quickly stand. With my free hand, I grab the edge and halt them.

Ethan.

“Is he…okay?” I put my hand atop his and it twitches in response.
Thank the Gads.
“Ethan…” My eyes scan his body, looking for injuries. It appears that he avoided the acid, but he’s definitely hurting.

He looks up at me and whispers. “Have you seen Kira or Jax? Alexa? Joshua? My parents?”

I shake my head. “I haven’t and I’ve been looking, trust me. I’m pretty sure Kira and Jax took off right before it happened. Brad and Vi…I mean our mother…were both in the restaurant when I left. I’ll keep looking. You just get yourself better. I’ll be there as soon I can.”

“You got any clue who did this?” he asks, his voice hoarse and weak.

“That is the million dollar question, isn’t it? I already have about a dozen people I suspect. How about you? You see anything?”

Before Ethan can answer, the idiot Secret Service guy who cuffed me, still covered in my puke, interrupts. “Move him along.” He directs the EMTs to get Ethan out of there. To me, “As for you…since you seem to have so many theories, I’m going to go get you moved up on the list of people to talk to.”

“Super. I’m looking forward to it.” I respond sarcastically. I do want to clear my name, but I’m more concerned about finding out the status of my missing friends and family. If I get locked up for hours in an interrogation room, then I won’t be able to look for them.
 

I’m also not sure how much is safe to share. Will the person that questions me be a member of the SCI or not? Unless this was an assassination attempt on the future president’s life—and I’m sure Henry’s made some political enemies—then it must be SCI-related. And I’m going with the latter theory. A single bullet could’ve taken out Henry. There would be no need for both a bomb and acid to rain down on a party full of people.