Malice in Wonderland (17 page)

Instead, I gazed out at the moon, which was full, round, and shining like a son of a bitch. Thoughts began circling my mind regarding Bram. Our conversation tonight had really sparked questions and the more I considered just how Bram fit into the larger context of Loyalist vs. Rebel, the more I had to wonder about Bram’s allegiance in all of this. I mean, at what point was it no longer okay to remain uninvolved and detached? At what point would Bram realize he needed to make a decision as to what side he favored? Furthermore, what did it mean when he said he was a "businessman, first and foremost"?

Everything was coming down to the wire and the time for choosing sides was long past. Thinking more about it, I had to wonder whether Bram could really be considered a friend to The Resistance, especially if he was, to use his own words, primarily a
businessman?
Was he referring to the business of running the biggest nightclub in Splendor? Or was there more to this picture?

Ultimately, when it came down to it, what did I really know about Bram?

I mean, I knew he owned and operated No Regrets, and that he definitely held hands with the criminals of Splendor as often as he held hands with the ANC. Yep, I'd always been able to rely on Bram for juicy tidbits regarding the less than law-abiding citizens of Splendor. But I could only imagine that while he fed me information about the goings on in the streets of Splendor, he also fed criminals information about the ANC. Otherwise, he could never have been able to remain in the middle, regarded as neither a model citizen nor a criminal by the ANC and the law breakers alike. 

I also couldn't ignore the fact that Bram had been in business with my father once upon a time. Of course he'd also said that he'd come to Splendor to escape my father's tyranny, but who knew if that story was entirely accurate? And furthermore, Bram
did
have his own portal to the Netherworld ... Granted, Bram's portal looked as if it hadn't been used in over one hundred years (which was also the story Bram gave me), but just having a private portal to the Netherworld that was still operable had to mean something.
Right?

Now I wondered if maybe Bram wasn't as innocent as he professed to be. But what exactly did that mean? Did I think Bram was responsible for the Denali explosion? No, I couldn't wrap my mind around that one. As much as I couldn't imagine Bram shedding a single tear over Knight's demise, I also didn't think he would voluntarily plot my assassination. Besides, Bram was no insider of The Resistance so he wouldn't have had any way of knowing the whereabouts of the Denali, or Knight and me ... unless, of course, he had an informant.

But regardless of whether he had an informant or not didn't change my belief that Bram didn’t want to see me dead—not after the way he went on and on about his interests in me. As much as I never wanted to admit it, Bram was obsessed with me. But didn’t obsession lead to crimes of passion and violence? Wasn’t everything fair in love and war?

I shook my head, because it just didn't ring true. If Bram wanted me dead, he'd already had many opportunities to see his goal to fruition, especially after taking it upon himself to become my guardian in the Netherworld. No, if Bram was guilty of anything, it sure wasn't planning my end.

My brain continued to find reasons for Bram's innocence or lack thereof, and I was suddenly reminded about Bram's statement that Christina
had
stayed with him on more than one occasion. What did that mean? With all certainty, I believed in Christina's innocence, since she was the leader of The Resistance. But maybe the answer wasn't so complicated. Maybe the answer was as simple as Christina falling in love with Bram? And if she were in love with him, maybe she was feeding him information without even realizing what she was doing. How many times did I hear that love was blind? Well, maybe love
was
blind! Maybe in this case, Christina's blind love for Bram was responsible for her blabbing information she otherwise would not have. Maybe she trusted Bram because she loved him and failed to see the danger involved by trusting him?

Thinking more about it though, I didn't buy it. Why? Because one thing I'd learned about Christina during the course of our
association,
was that she was one bad ass chick. And last I checked
,
bad ass chicks didn't fall head over heels in love with candy ass vampires. Not only that, but I couldn't imagine there was a chance in hell that Christina, even playing the devil's advocate and accepting that she was in love with Bram, would ever give up any information about The Resistance, since she held it so close to her heart.

Hmm, so if a love tryst between Bram and Christina didn't seem
likely ...

What if Christina, knowing that Bram walked the fine line between good and bad, didn't trust him and as part of her distrust, stationed me here, under his roof on purpose? What if this move on her part wasn't so much to secure my own safety as it was for me to keep an eye on Bram? Maybe it was an attempt to get up close and personal with the goings on behind Bram's closed doors? And, finally, to get to the bottom of whether or not Bram was somehow involved in the assassination
plot,
and more pointedly, somehow involved with my father?

That made sense. Christina, being my father's pet before all of this Resistance stuff hit the fan, would have known those who were closest to him. Moreover, Christina would have all the background history between Bram and my father. And, knowing that history, she'd want to make sure Bram didn’t pose a threat. Or maybe it was even simpler than that—maybe Bram was involved with my father all along, and Christina was also aware of it?

'Course, if Bram had been in cahoots with my father recently, then he would know about Christina's fall from my father's grace. Moreover, she'd also be fully aware that Bram knew. And if they were both aware of what happened, there wouldn't be a need for the two of them to play games. Instead, Christina could have simply taken Bram into Resistance custody, or Bram could have fled Splendor for the Netherworld a long time ago.

As far as I could tell, Christina and Bram seemed to be dancing around one another. Bram wasn't a member of The Resistance, but seemed to be considered a friend. Toward that end, Christina paid her own visits to Bram, just as Bram admitted. But the more I thought about it, the more I was convinced that those visits weren’t social calls. No, Christina was trying to decipher whether or not Bram could be considered friend or foe. After all, Bram was a wild card and Christina couldn't count on a wild card in her deck. It was just too dangerous. So, rather than come right out and let Bram know she was sizing him up, she'd
orchestrated
the genius excuse of my needing protection. In doing so, she was putting me directly in his lair where I could watch his comings and goings, and keep track of him in order to decipher if he really was a threat.

Aside from not appreciating being left to my own defenses in the enemy's lair (if that was, in fact, what Christina considered Bram to be), I didn't fail to see the beauty of the arrangement. The only risky part for Christina was betting that I would experience this epiphany in the first place. But then again, it must have been a bet that Christina was willing to take. And, not to toot my own horn, but given my ANC record for weeding out the facts, I was the perfect candidate for this job. Not only that, but I believed Bram trusted me. I'd never given him any reason not to.

Hmm, so Christina might be suspicious of Bram continuing some level of involvement with my father. While I couldn't say I wholeheartedly wrapped my brain around the idea, I also couldn't deny it. Thinking about it, though, upset me. Granted, although I never considered myself to be close to Bram, at the same time, I always enjoyed our awkward relationship. When it came down to it, I didn't want to believe Bram was guilty of associating with my father and supporting his cause. I wanted to believe Bram was innocent, but I'd also been trained well enough to leave my personal feelings out of it. As an ANC Regulator, I had to focus on the facts, to focus on the cold, hard truth, the black and white ... just as I'd always done.

One thing I did know, though, was that if Bram was a Loyalist, in cahoots with my father, and (for the sake of argument) partially responsible for the detonation of the Denali, there had to be someone else involved. Why? Because Bram was too separated from The Resistance
itself
in order for him to even
get
an inkling of information about the internal goings on. That could only mean one thing—someone was feeding him information.

My mind was swimming with "what ifs" as well as feelings of anger, betrayal, and sorrow if the "what ifs" were actually valid. Deciding to sleep on everything, I closed the curtains and started for the bed. Yes, it did occur to me that if Bram was behind the Denali detonation, I was now basically as good as dead. But I abandoned the thought
because I imagined
Bram wouldn't show his hand quite so quickly
. Besides,
Christina and Knight knew the location of my whereabouts,
which meant there would be too
many witnesses. Nope, Bram would opt for stealth if he were behind the attacks. Killing me now would be too convenient and way too obvious.

Besides, I wasn't wholly convinced of Bram's involvement in any of this
anyway ...

I removed most of the pillows from the headboard, noticing how much bigger the bed appeared when it wasn't overflowing with fluff. Then I crawled under the covers, while a yawn seized my entire body. I closed my eyes and felt the luxury of sleep invading me.

#
##

It was one of those dreams whe
re
you realize you're dreaming, but you can't wake up so you end up just going with the flow. In it, I saw myself lying in an enormous and god-awful golden bed. It took me a second or two to realize it was the same bed I'd gone to sleep in and my
room was
also the same: an ornately overdone gold bedroom.

I felt as if I were floating at the top of the room, glancing down at the enormous bed where I could just make out the top of someone's head. Her hair was a wavy, honey-gold and when she turned to her other side, I immediately recognized her profile. She was I and I was she. As soon as the thought occurred to me, I felt a great swoosh of air against my face, as if I were in a wind tunnel. When I opened my eyes, I noticed my vantage point had changed and I was now no longer floating along the ceiling, but firmly planted on a bed, with my cheek against a satiny pillow.

I've been sucked back into my body
.

At the revelation, a sudden wind gusted from an open window at the far side of the room. It was a window that
hadn’t been
open when I went to bed. The gust of wind blew out the candle beside the bed
which was concerning since
I didn't recall going to bed with the candle lit, or, for that matter, a candle even being on the bedside table. The drapes rustled in the cold breeze and I felt myself sitting up, my eyes swollen with sleep. I watched the curtains dance suggestively with the breeze and didn't feel threatened in the least, even though I imagined I should have, considering windows couldn't open themselves. Instead, I enjoyed the feel of the cold night air against my cheek. I yawned and urged myself to stand up in order to close the window and the drapes, but somehow couldn't quite motivate myself to do it. Instead, the breeze against my cheek felt icily delicious and I pulled my knees into my chest, loving the fact that I felt so warm beneath my covers.

Forgetting the window and the drapes, I closed my eyes again and willed myself to go back to sleep. Almost immediately, the temperature in the room dropped until it became painfully cold, like an ice locker. I rolled onto my back, trying to convince myself to get up and shut the window, but my body was still completely in Morpheus' grip and I couldn't wake myself up.

Dulcie
, close the window!
I yelled at myself.

I opened my eyes, feeling irritated that I'd have to leave the haven of my warm covers in order to brave the freezing room on an errand that I still hadn't convinced myself was even worth it. I noticed the moonlight streaming in through the window, where it highlighted the gold of my coverlet until it appeared to glow. Following the rays of the milky
moon, I watched the curtains while
they danced this way and that, as if in the throes of a passionate affair with the wind.

I felt my eyes growing heavy as I watched the heady dance of the curtains. I thought it must have been an optical illusion, but as I watched, the air just at the end of my bed began to grow opaque, almost as if mist were rising up from the floor. As I watched, the mist grew slowly denser and thicker. What was more interesting, it now embodied the shape of a man. I could clearly see shoulders, a head, arms, and legs.

I wasn't sure why, but the manifestation of the mist didn't frighten me. Instead, I just stared at the outline of the man in awe. And somehow, I felt it staring back at me—as if we were both in the throes of a dream-like stupor, where warning and worry don’t enter into the equation. The mist seemed to grow even more opaque. What were once mere wisps of
smoke,
now became a thick fog.

I watched the fog man moving toward me, his legs losing their outline as if someone turned a fan on them. I could see him resting his fog hands on either end of my bed, and even though he didn't have eyes, I could clearly feel us staring at one another. The fog man seemed to reach forward and as I glanced down, I noticed my coverlet hovering over me, as if being picked up by invisible fingers. When I glanced back up at the apparition, it was gone.