Their Fractured Light
Page 37
And now someone, somewhere, has been hijacking that rep I worked so hard to build, using it while they hurt the girl beside me. This girl I care about far, far more than I should. Far more than is safe for either of us. “He’s not going to use me as a weapon,” I say quietly. “Nobody could make me do that.”
She shakes her head. “I know he works for the LaRoux family, or he did at one point. And the friend of my enemy is my enemy too. He could use you against me, if he wanted to.”
“He’s not—” I force myself to sound calm, shoving down the frustration that wants to surface in my tone. This is impossible, having an argument about myself in the third person. “I’ve never seen any evidence he’s involved in LaRoux Industries. I don’t think he likes them any more than we do.”
“You’re wrong,” she says, soft but certain. “I tried to track him down once. Waste of money, of course. He’s too smart to let himself be tracked very far. But I got as far as a newer planet in the Sulafat system, and a bit of property with two names on the deed: Tarver Merendsen and Lilac LaRoux.”
You what? She must have found someone good to do that work. Now’s probably not the time to work out who this person is and take him or her out of the business, but I add it to the list of things to do after we stop LaRoux. “That doesn’t mean he was working for LaRoux Industries, does it? Perhaps he was spying on them.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like.” She looks tired, closing her eyes. “What does it matter?”
“It matters because you’re not just my ally, and I know you’re good enough at reading me to know that.” That’s enough to open her eyes again, and I press on. “Tell me why he was hurting you, and I can keep you safe.”
She reaches for her beer, gulping down a long swallow and setting it down too hard on the floor. “I don’t know why. Just promise me you won’t tell him where I am. Promise me, Gideon.” She’s still gripping the bottle, knuckles white. Whatever’s going on has her terrified.
How can I possibly answer that? If I admit who I am, she’ll run. If I promise, I’m lying. But there’s nothing to do but nod. And something in her releases when I do.
“He’s hunting me,” she whispers. “For almost a year now he’s been following me. I’ve had to learn how to tell when he’s getting close. Alarms, digital trip wires, that sort of thing. He has flags on my accounts, records of my transport travel. Every time I think I’m safe, every time I think I’ve lost him this time, there he is. I only get a few weeks—a month or two at most—before he finds me. This, on Corinth, is the longest I’ve been able to stay in one place. But he’ll find me eventually. I’ve just never been this close to LaRoux, and if the Knave finds me before I can—” Her lips press hard together, and she doesn’t finish her sentence.
I feel like I’ve fallen ten stories. I know these tricks—hell, I invented most of the ways hackers like me track down individuals these days—but I would never use them to hurt someone like Sofia, an innocent. But someone out there’s been using my arsenal, the one I keep for people like LaRoux and Towers and everyone else who condones their crimes—and using it to terrorize people. All I can do is repeat her words like an idiot. “He’s hunting you?”
She nods.
I reach across to cover her hand with mine. “I promise you, whoever’s after you, you’re safe now. I know this game.”
“Whoever?” she echoes, brows drawing inward. “It’s the Knave, Gideon. I’m positive. Three different hackers have confirmed that, separately. He signs his work, the narcissist. Like an artist.” Then there’s a flicker of a wry, humorless smile. “Or a serial killer.”
I’m going to find out who’s been copycatting me, and make an afternoon with a serial killer look like a kid’s birthday party.
“We’ll keep you safe,” I say quietly. “I promise. Trust me with this.” I just need her to stick with me, and I can work this out. Maybe, when all of this is over, I won’t need the Knave anymore. But before I let him fade away, I’ll find whoever hurt her, and I’ll hurt them more.
Sofia steadies herself with a slow breath, turning her hand under mine until it’s palm-up, and she can twine our fingers together. A little more controlled, now. “It’s been a really, really long time since I wasn’t alone,” she whispers, and when I look across, our eyes meet. “I’ve missed that feeling.”
Her gaze goes straight to my heart. I’ve missed it too. And there’s something about this girl—so utterly strong, so vulnerable, so implacable in her purpose, but so alone—she brings all my best intentions undone.
She keeps her gaze on me as I set aside my meal, then take hers and her bottle, setting them aside as well. She swallows as I lean in to press my forehead to hers, curving my hand around the back of her neck, fingertips finding bare skin.
Everything between us—the ones we love who died, the way our hands linked together as we ran from Mae’s betrayal, the mad flight from LaRoux Headquarters, the taxi driver shouting after us, the tortured climb up the elevator shaft, that one perfect waltz—all those moments whirl through my head and coalesce into one instant of pure instinct.
All the things I should say—I’m the Knave, you don’t know who my allies are, I’m falling for you—are swept aside.
Her breath catches, and mine sticks in my throat, and then we’re surging together, rising to our knees so she can reach up to twine her arms around my neck, and I can duck my head to find her mouth, and I lose myself in her.
It’s hours later when Sofia stirs and murmurs in her sleep—that’s what wakes me. Our nest is lit only by the dim glow of my screen nearby, and I carefully ease up onto one elbow to check the time. Still a few hours until dawn.
When I look back, she’s curled up in a ball, her forehead lined, some dream causing her to push out a hand as though to defend herself. I’ve seen it over and over the last few days, but it strikes me anew. Even in her sleep, she doesn’t feel safe.
Carefully I lift the blanket, pulling it up over her where she’s pushed it off. It’s enough to settle her most times, and it works this time, too. “You’re going to wake up looking like a question mark,” I murmur, and she tucks herself up into a smaller ball, breath slowing. “A small, surprisingly beautiful que—I sound like an idiot. And I’m talking to myself.”
I’m smiling, too—also like an idiot. I have to get it together before she wakes up and sees me like this.
I’m easing down to lie beside her once more, and let her skin warm mine, when I see it.
Her outflung arm is bare, and where there’s always been perfect skin before, now there’s smudged makeup concealing a hint of some design below showing through. Is it a tattoo? Or—wait. It’s a genetag. I looked for one of these on her arm that first night in Kristina’s apartment, when I realized Sofia must be from Avon. I didn’t see it then, and now I can tell why. She’s done a good job hiding it. I haven’t seen one on an actual person before—they’re used by colonies that don’t have planetary status yet, taking the place of a proper government ID. And most people from those planets never have the money to travel anywhere I’d meet them. Or anywhere at all. There’s a booming black market for selling the genetag sequences to fully fledged citizens who want to operate under the radar—I’ve got half a dozen of them myself. They’re the kinds of IDs people like Towers use when trying to disappear. But this one’s actually hers—actually tattooed into her skin.
She shakes her head. “I know he works for the LaRoux family, or he did at one point. And the friend of my enemy is my enemy too. He could use you against me, if he wanted to.”
“He’s not—” I force myself to sound calm, shoving down the frustration that wants to surface in my tone. This is impossible, having an argument about myself in the third person. “I’ve never seen any evidence he’s involved in LaRoux Industries. I don’t think he likes them any more than we do.”
“You’re wrong,” she says, soft but certain. “I tried to track him down once. Waste of money, of course. He’s too smart to let himself be tracked very far. But I got as far as a newer planet in the Sulafat system, and a bit of property with two names on the deed: Tarver Merendsen and Lilac LaRoux.”
You what? She must have found someone good to do that work. Now’s probably not the time to work out who this person is and take him or her out of the business, but I add it to the list of things to do after we stop LaRoux. “That doesn’t mean he was working for LaRoux Industries, does it? Perhaps he was spying on them.”
“That wasn’t what it looked like.” She looks tired, closing her eyes. “What does it matter?”
“It matters because you’re not just my ally, and I know you’re good enough at reading me to know that.” That’s enough to open her eyes again, and I press on. “Tell me why he was hurting you, and I can keep you safe.”
She reaches for her beer, gulping down a long swallow and setting it down too hard on the floor. “I don’t know why. Just promise me you won’t tell him where I am. Promise me, Gideon.” She’s still gripping the bottle, knuckles white. Whatever’s going on has her terrified.
How can I possibly answer that? If I admit who I am, she’ll run. If I promise, I’m lying. But there’s nothing to do but nod. And something in her releases when I do.
“He’s hunting me,” she whispers. “For almost a year now he’s been following me. I’ve had to learn how to tell when he’s getting close. Alarms, digital trip wires, that sort of thing. He has flags on my accounts, records of my transport travel. Every time I think I’m safe, every time I think I’ve lost him this time, there he is. I only get a few weeks—a month or two at most—before he finds me. This, on Corinth, is the longest I’ve been able to stay in one place. But he’ll find me eventually. I’ve just never been this close to LaRoux, and if the Knave finds me before I can—” Her lips press hard together, and she doesn’t finish her sentence.
I feel like I’ve fallen ten stories. I know these tricks—hell, I invented most of the ways hackers like me track down individuals these days—but I would never use them to hurt someone like Sofia, an innocent. But someone out there’s been using my arsenal, the one I keep for people like LaRoux and Towers and everyone else who condones their crimes—and using it to terrorize people. All I can do is repeat her words like an idiot. “He’s hunting you?”
She nods.
I reach across to cover her hand with mine. “I promise you, whoever’s after you, you’re safe now. I know this game.”
“Whoever?” she echoes, brows drawing inward. “It’s the Knave, Gideon. I’m positive. Three different hackers have confirmed that, separately. He signs his work, the narcissist. Like an artist.” Then there’s a flicker of a wry, humorless smile. “Or a serial killer.”
I’m going to find out who’s been copycatting me, and make an afternoon with a serial killer look like a kid’s birthday party.
“We’ll keep you safe,” I say quietly. “I promise. Trust me with this.” I just need her to stick with me, and I can work this out. Maybe, when all of this is over, I won’t need the Knave anymore. But before I let him fade away, I’ll find whoever hurt her, and I’ll hurt them more.
Sofia steadies herself with a slow breath, turning her hand under mine until it’s palm-up, and she can twine our fingers together. A little more controlled, now. “It’s been a really, really long time since I wasn’t alone,” she whispers, and when I look across, our eyes meet. “I’ve missed that feeling.”
Her gaze goes straight to my heart. I’ve missed it too. And there’s something about this girl—so utterly strong, so vulnerable, so implacable in her purpose, but so alone—she brings all my best intentions undone.
She keeps her gaze on me as I set aside my meal, then take hers and her bottle, setting them aside as well. She swallows as I lean in to press my forehead to hers, curving my hand around the back of her neck, fingertips finding bare skin.
Everything between us—the ones we love who died, the way our hands linked together as we ran from Mae’s betrayal, the mad flight from LaRoux Headquarters, the taxi driver shouting after us, the tortured climb up the elevator shaft, that one perfect waltz—all those moments whirl through my head and coalesce into one instant of pure instinct.
All the things I should say—I’m the Knave, you don’t know who my allies are, I’m falling for you—are swept aside.
Her breath catches, and mine sticks in my throat, and then we’re surging together, rising to our knees so she can reach up to twine her arms around my neck, and I can duck my head to find her mouth, and I lose myself in her.
It’s hours later when Sofia stirs and murmurs in her sleep—that’s what wakes me. Our nest is lit only by the dim glow of my screen nearby, and I carefully ease up onto one elbow to check the time. Still a few hours until dawn.
When I look back, she’s curled up in a ball, her forehead lined, some dream causing her to push out a hand as though to defend herself. I’ve seen it over and over the last few days, but it strikes me anew. Even in her sleep, she doesn’t feel safe.
Carefully I lift the blanket, pulling it up over her where she’s pushed it off. It’s enough to settle her most times, and it works this time, too. “You’re going to wake up looking like a question mark,” I murmur, and she tucks herself up into a smaller ball, breath slowing. “A small, surprisingly beautiful que—I sound like an idiot. And I’m talking to myself.”
I’m smiling, too—also like an idiot. I have to get it together before she wakes up and sees me like this.
I’m easing down to lie beside her once more, and let her skin warm mine, when I see it.
Her outflung arm is bare, and where there’s always been perfect skin before, now there’s smudged makeup concealing a hint of some design below showing through. Is it a tattoo? Or—wait. It’s a genetag. I looked for one of these on her arm that first night in Kristina’s apartment, when I realized Sofia must be from Avon. I didn’t see it then, and now I can tell why. She’s done a good job hiding it. I haven’t seen one on an actual person before—they’re used by colonies that don’t have planetary status yet, taking the place of a proper government ID. And most people from those planets never have the money to travel anywhere I’d meet them. Or anywhere at all. There’s a booming black market for selling the genetag sequences to fully fledged citizens who want to operate under the radar—I’ve got half a dozen of them myself. They’re the kinds of IDs people like Towers use when trying to disappear. But this one’s actually hers—actually tattooed into her skin.
