arbitrate (daynight) (8 page)

“Furthermore, Jackson will be our liaison with the Ten. He will have access to all Ten meetings we deem necessary for him to attend. He will monitor your actions, and when the Ten’s judgment is…suspect…Jackson will arbitrate. Our Council will be called in as needed to assist in the more ‘delicate’ matters. And if all else fails, we will be quick to escalate.”

There’s groaning and fidgeting at the table, but no one dares to voice an opinion.
 

In a fraction of a second, the Arbiters each have a member of the Ten in a stranglehold with grips strong enough that the Ten’s faces are turning purple.

Eli says, “Never forget that you cannot run from us, hide from us, or evade us. There are consequences for your choices, and if you continue down your current path, you won’t have just us to worry about.”

The lights regain their strength.

Jax remains.

The rest of the Arbiters are gone. And they’ve got Ethan.

CHAPTER FIVE

Ethan

My father’s pacing his blood-red office at the Cross with such ferocity that I think he’ll ignite the carpet.

“You betrayed us. You threatened to kill your own brother. You’ve treated the mother of your child like a common criminal. And you’ve set in motion a string of events that will not bode well for anyone. Have I left anything out?”

I dig my teeth into my lip hard enough to draw blood. He stops pacing long enough to await my answer. “In my defense, Jax was sleeping with my Cleave. ”

He looks incredulous at my answer. “You declared war on your own kind because of petty jealousy?”
 

“Half my kind.” I correct.

“Have you learned nothing? Arbiter genes are dominant. You owe your loyalty to us. Particularly since Jackson did nothing wrong. He respected your relationship with Kira at all times and went to extreme measures to keep her safe. Unlike some, he puts family first.”

I snap my head around and growl. “It’s clear that he’s your favorite son. But Jax kept Kira away from me for a
year
and then didn’t even have the common decency to tell me that she was alive…that my
son
was alive. He played father to
my
son. I will
never
forgive him.”

My father picks up his tablet and starts to read from it. “The first attempt on Kira’s life happened in Farm City nine months ago. Jackson saved her from a machete-wielding assassin. The second: eight months ago in Industrial City. An electric shock device was placed in Kira’s tub. A series of incidents happened in six different cities over a six week span while she completed her Daynighter training. The last incident happened in Military City. A bullet grazed her neck just missing her carotid artery. That’s when they went on the run and ultimately ended up in hiding. But despite his attempt to keep her safe, there was still the attempt here in Heart where she was sliced open and left to die. And those are only the attempts that nearly succeeded. There are at least a dozen more that she doesn’t even know about.”

“The Ten had nothing to do with those attacks. We would have kept her safe. Jax had no right to disappear with her.”

My father sets his tablet on his desk, walks over, and puts a hand on my shoulder. “Your colleagues are not trustworthy. Surely you are not blind. I trained you better than that. Do you not see what they have in motion? The Clean Slate Complexes are just the tip of the volcano. You need to spend less time worrying about your love life and more time worrying about what the SCI plans to do—both on Thera and on Earth.”

“I don’t care about the SCI’s antics right now. Why was I kept in the dark about Kira being alive?” That’s what is really eating away at me. My own father and brother kept the truth from me. They want me to be their mole in the Ten but can’t trust me enough to share things that directly affect me.

“I’m sorry. We needed you to finish up school and take your place on the Ten. The SCI is out of control and needs to be reined in. I knew that Kira’s plight would be a…distraction…for you. It’s not like your mother would have allowed you to come to Kira’s defense. It was for the best even if you can’t see it now. Plus, I think you fail to understand Kira’s state of mind throughout all of this. In the last year, she has spent time both in inpatient psychiatric care and extensive outpatient care. She lost it after leaving Garden City. The deaths of her parents and friends all caught up with her. Add pregnancy hormones on top of it, and she couldn’t handle it.”

I jerk away from his hand on my shoulder. “
I
should have been
there for her. She needed me.”

“No. She needed Jackson. Still needs him. He has the calming touch—an ability you don’t have.”

“I
loved
her and Jax took that from me.”

My father drops his head and shakes it. “If you don’t love her any more, it surely has nothing to do with Jackson. Kira stayed faithful to you—and had been excited to see you again, until you waltzed in with a giant chip on your hypocritical shoulder and then threw Jackson to the wolves. I don’t know if the two of you can be fixed. Certainly not if you continue to treat her the way you have been.”

I need to get out of here. I’m so angry and frustrated that I can’t see straight. I need time to process everything that has happened. Everyone acts like this is all
no big deal
because there were
extenuating circumstances
. That I shouldn’t be the least bit bothered that I missed out on the first three months of my son’s life. That I should forgive Jax and Kira for letting me think she was dead, that the only thing I should care about is what the SCI has done and will do. Well, sorry, it just isn’t that simple. They can’t just screw me over and expect me to look the other way. People need to be held accountable for their actions.

“Is your lecture finished? Am I free to leave? I have some thinking to do.” I square my jaw, lean back, and fold my arms across my chest.
I’m done here.

“You are dismissed. But not trusted. You’re going to have to earn that back. Keep tabs on what the Blacks and your Uncle Henry are up to. That would be a good start.”

I concentrate on my apartment—not the one with my new “roomies,” Kira and Jax—but the one back on Earth. I empty everything else from my mind but where I want to go.

And then I go.

One Month Ago: Los Angeles, California

I stood in the
front row and watched as my Uncle Henry took the stage at the US Democratic National Convention. Alexa flanked my left and Joshua hers—she knew to separate the two of us. Excitement surged through the air as Henry stood to accept the nomination as the Democratic Presidential candidate. The crowd—a sea of red, white, and blue—chanted, “We want more. We want King.”

The polls showed that Henry had this thing sewed up months ago. This was a formality, an exuberant tribute to the man who obliterated the competition and stood to annihilate the Republican incumbent on Election Day. Henry’s platform was unbeatable and seemingly substantive, unlike so many politicians. Former Chairman of the Board of The Second Chance Institute and current senator of California, he had an impeccable track record.

If they only knew how true the statement, “The devil’s in the details,” is.

Henry stood with my aunt Elizabeth and their two daughters—my cousins Anne and Mary. They basked in the spotlight, waving to their constituency with smiles as fake as their promises.

Finally, Henry stepped forward to the podium and waited for the crowd to settle. There were a few shouts of “We love you Henry!” that made it through before he was allowed to speak. His thank-you’s were interspersed with boisterous applause. And then he cut to the chase—lies wrapped in promises so beautiful that even staunch Republicans had a hard time looking the other way.

“This great nation needs a reboot. A fresh start. A Clean Slate…”
 

“We want
more
. We want King.” The crowd chanted.

“Our freedom is threatened daily. Terrorist incidents are on the rise. We need
more
security,
more
safeguards for our citizens.”

“We want
more
. We want King.” Signs were waved furiously and the decibel level was stifling.

“Our educational standards have fallen to sub-standard levels. We need
more
focus on education and greater consistency across our schools. Why should a child in a rich neighborhood get a better education than one in a poor neighborhood? I have repeatedly told you of the great success The Second Chance Institute has had with their pilot educational programs. Now is the time to give our children
more
opportunity.”

“We want
more
. We want King.” Red, white, and blue confetti crowns rained down from the ceiling.

“Our health care systems are a train wreck. The people of this great nation deserve better medical care and
more
of it. As it happens, I have a bit of an inside connection to some of the best doctors and scientists in the universe…”

Laughter.

“I’m pleased to announce that our private sector partner, The Second Chance Institute, has developed a universal blood test that can screen for cancers, chronic ailments, and autoimmune disorders. Under my leadership,
every citizen
will be offered this test, free of charge, on an annual basis.”

Deafening cheers. Five men and women joined Henry on stage.

“Paul was screened and a marker was found for colorectal cancer. He just finished a successful preemptive treatment and is expected to live a long life.”

“We want
more
. We want King.” Flags waved and feet stomped.

“Diana had been plagued with poor health for a decade. The new screen detected a rare autoimmune disorder. With proper treatment Diana’s quality of life will increase exponentially.”

The introductions and cheers continued.

“Let’s move on to a tough topic. Our nation is plagued with high unemployment numbers. Our people need
more
jobs. Places to live. Food on the table. The SCI Clean Slate Complexes prove that it is possible to give the poor and downtrodden a fresh lease on life without raising taxes and with complete self-sufficiency.
No one
should have to sleep on the streets or go hungry. A vote for King is a vote for
more
hope for every citizen’s future.”

“We want
more
. We want King.” Balloons were unleashed rising into the air triumphantly—just like Henry’s ascent to political stardom.

A security guard came and demanded that Alexa go up onto the stage. She reluctantly went, plastering on a fake smile as she climbed the stairs and stood by Henry.

“Meet Alexa Knight. A few months ago, Alexa was living in the back of a van with her mother and brothers. An SCI bus happened upon her as she was being attacked by a methamphetamine addict. She was taken to a Clean Slate Complex, and she and her family were given food, lodging, medical care, jobs, and an education.” Alexa clenched her teeth at the mention of her mother. “Look at her now. Every fair citizen of our country deserves what Alexa has. They deserve
more
than they have now.”

“We want
more.
We want King.” The crowd hungered for more as they ate up the lies with reckless abandon.
 

“We call you to serve. If you want
more
—take action. Join millions like you and
Stand Up
for what you believe.
Stand Up
against big business and lobbyists who don’t have your best interests in mind.
Stand Up
for
more
security, better education, better healthcare, and zero unemployment. Don’t sit idly by and watch our country continue its downward spiral.
Stand Up
and be heard.”
 

Henry had organized weekly
Stand Up
rallies at thousands of locations throughout the country—an evolution of Occupy Wall Street and flash mobs that were more popular than concerts or televised sports. Sit-ins were a thing of the past and considered passive-aggressive.
Stand Up
s were a literal standing tribute to diversity, an unbroken chain of supporters spanning miles unified in their desire to have my Uncle Henry reign supreme. A single campaign worker would start the chain, dressing in red, white, and blue, and holding a large American flag—and then one by one, fueled by social media blitzes, people would join the chain, snaking it through and around each city—in essence, taking it hostage. People left cars abandoned, walked off jobs, and ditched school to
Stand Up
.

“We will
Stand Up.
We want
more.
We want King.”

Gads help us all.

Present

I wake up from
a short nap in a terrible mood, likely because I dreamed of Jax and Kira doing everything but sleeping in my bed back on Thera. I’d like to stay here and avoid them indefinitely, but I went and found them so I could develop a relationship with my son. And I will not let either Kira or Jax scare me away from that.

Just thinking about the meeting with the Ten and how Jax and the Arbiters played us makes me livid. I think Jax purposefully provoked me into dragging him there by gunpoint. He could have easily left before I showed up and found him with Kira on my office couch. It’s not like he didn’t know I was coming.

I nearly killed him. I can still feel the weight of the revolver in my hands, the cool feel of the metal against my skin, my finger pulsing against the trigger.

I still want to kill him.

Gads, I hate him.

I catch sight of my reflection in the mirror above my dresser and barely recognize what I see. Dark circles under the eyes, unshaven face, expression that screams failure. I hate that guy too.

I grab the lamp off my nightstand and hurl it into the mirror.

Shards of glass clank everywhere.

It’s oddly therapeutic.

A tall marble glass cat comes to mind. My mother got it for me as a housewarming gift. I stalk out to the living room and seize it. It’s heavy and awkward and the perfect accessory to mayhem.

The bathroom’s my next destination. I flip on the light switch and take a deep breath. Is it so wrong to want something to be more broken than me?