Mortal Danger

SHADOW DANCE

My parents weren’t back from university yet, so I left Kian waiting in the front room while I scrambled out of my uniform and into jeans and a T-shirt. I pulled my hair down, conscious that I was trying to downplay my appearance. I hated the thought that he might look at me and see his own creation, not me. If he was on the level, he was taking a big risk, pretending to chase me with ulterior motives, while giving me top-secret info. It chewed at me, not knowing what exactly might happen if they caught him. But he might also be double-crossing me, doing exactly what I’d suggested in the car. There was no way for me to be sure.

Still, technically, this was my first date. It was cliché, but I was excited, even if he might be doing this to please his boss.

I sent a text to my parents, who would probably be astonished that I had plans involving other human beings, and then went out to join Kian. “Ready.”

“Let’s go.” He led the way to the car and we drove for a while in silence.

“You realize the Mustang makes you the total package. Girls will drive me nuts tomorrow asking about you.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Only in the sense that I don’t know anything.”

Kian tilted his head, and it took all my self-control not to brush back the hair that tumbled into his face. “That means I can be anything you want.”

“Sounds dangerous. How will I remember what lies I’ve told?”

“Write it down? Or would you rather know the truth?” He pulled into a small parking lot, nestled behind an Italian restaurant with red-and-white-checkered tablecloths visible through windows draped with twinkle lights. Inside they seemed to be trying to evoke a sense of Tuscany with the textured walls and dark wood. The hostess escorted us to a booth and left us with menus; I couldn’t help but notice the way she studied Kian as if he were a chocolate éclair.

I held my answer until the hostess moved out of earshot. “If you’re allowed to tell me, I’d like to know the truth.”

The appreciative glint in his eyes said he knew I was playing to a potential audience. “You’re a special case, Edie. I’ve been granted clearance to be straight with you.”

I grinned. Despite the risks, this was kind of fun, knowing how much subtext simmered between the lines. “Then tell me about the real you.”

“I’m twenty,” he said quietly. “I was fifteen when I had my … moment.”

Extremis. When Raoul made him an offer he couldn’t refuse. He’d already told me this, but if Wedderburn hadn’t been listening in, it was best to pretend that conversation never happened. Kian couldn’t afford for his boss to doubt him. Or maybe he just wants you to believe he’s loyal to you. But why would he support a girl he just met over the powerful figure who can do unspeakable things to punish him? I had no ready answer.

“Do you want to tell me?” It seemed really intimate, but I still wanted to know.

His voice was soft, barely audible below the music tinkling from the speakers. “It feels like a long time ago. I can talk about it. But let’s order first.”

I hadn’t even opened the menu. “I trust you.”

The waitress came over in response to Kian’s signal. “We’ll start with the bruschetta and then we’ll share a Caesar salad and chicken parmigiana. Just bring two plates. We’ll divide the food at the table. Thanks.”

Once she left, I sat frozen, staring at him. I mean, he’d informed me that he knew everything about me, but it didn’t feel real until he ordered all of my favorite things in the same meal. “You weren’t kidding about being an Edie expert.”

“Work occasionally gives me an edge. You’ll be even more wowed when I take you to the Science Museum for a planetarium show.”

“Is that in the works?”

His gaze met mine. “It could be. If you want.”

“Maybe. So you were about to tell me…?”

His smile faded. “Right. My family had money, up until I was twelve. At that point it came out that my father’s empire had been built on a Ponzi scheme.”

I dug around my memory, trying to recall where I’d heard the term. Oh yeah, on the news, when the anchorman was talking about fraud and how a fake investment business stayed afloat when the “broker” took money he got later and paid it out to early investors, constantly moving money around. From what I recalled, that could go on for years, but eventually all the stockholders would demand their own payments. I suspected that was when things fell apart for Kian’s dad.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Rather than go to jail, he killed himself and left my mother to clean up the mess.” He responded in a monotone, like he was talking about something he read, not his own life.

I hesitated, not knowing what to say. “Was it just you and her?”

“No, I had a sister.”

“Had?” I asked with growing dread.

Kian closed his eyes briefly and flattened his hand on the table. Impulsively I reached over and covered his fingers with mine, because whatever was coming, it had to be awful. “She came into my dad’s study … he had the gun—”

“Tell me he didn’t kill her.”

“Not on purpose.”

That painted a picture in my mind. I imagined her rushing over, trying to stop him, them struggling for the weapon. It goes off, he’s shocked and horrified. Then he turns the gun on himself. Bang, bang. Half a family’s dead in just a few seconds. Jesus. I had no idea what to say. I’m sorry seemed so inadequate.

He went on, “So then it was just my mom and me, and … she leaned, so hard. I wasn’t even thirteen. I tried to step up … to help. But it wasn’t enough and pretty soon, she was hooked on pills. In time my uncle put her in rehab and I went to stay with him and my aunt.”

“You said something about his fishing cabin?”

“Yeah. He’s hard-working, my uncle. Not like my dad. I tried to restart my life, but it felt like there was nothing but a hole from everything I lost.”

“And there was a girl,” I guessed.

“Right again. She was the last straw. It took all of my courage to talk to her, and when she said, in front of everyone, that she’d rather die than date me, I kind of … lost it. Hitchhiked to my uncle’s cabin where nobody would find me. I had already tied the noose when Raoul showed up. Not gonna lie, he freaked me out.”

“But he also saved you. So this girl … to impress her, you asked to be incredibly hot, you asked for the sports car, what was the last favor?”

His eyes burned with an intensity that stole my breath, locked on mine so I couldn’t look away. “Show me how clever you are. Guess.”

Before I could, the waitress brought our food and Kian served. After eating only salad and yogurt for lunch, I was starving. I ate a few bites of the chicken while I pondered.

“You wanted her to fall for you, probably so you could shoot her down.”

“Spot on. After my last request kicked in, she became completely obsessed with me. Stalked me, in fact. I had to take out a restraining order.”

“What happened to her?” I asked.

His expression was flat and dark, completely unreadable. “She killed herself.”

A gasp slid out of me, and I nearly dropped my fork. “Jesus, Kian. That’s taking payback way too far.”

He flinched. “I didn’t mean for that to happen. I just wanted her to know what it felt like to be rejected. They didn’t tell me until later, but in my best timeline, I was supposed to be with her. The opposition interfered, drove her over the edge.”

“That’s horrible.” It dawned on me how dangerous this deal was. So many factors I hadn’t calculated before making the agreement. Quietly I stared at the marks on my wrists. No going back now.

“I know.” He paused, unsure whether he should continue. “When she died, I lost my potential as a catalyst. That’s why I work for the company now.”

“You say ‘work’ but that’s not the impression I get.”

Kian swallowed hard. I guessed I’d trespassed into forbidden territory. His boss likely wouldn’t be happy, no matter what he said. So I was surprised when he pulled a pen and notebook out of his pocket, then scribbled an answer. With his watch under the table, he nudged it toward me and ate some chicken parm with his other hand.

Aloud, he said, “It’s not so bad.”

Yeah, that’s the company line. I nibbled at my food while skimming the reality of his response. My life’s not my own. Indenture might be the right word, except that means having the chance at freedom someday. I don’t. I belong to Wedderburn. Shock and sorrow cascaded through me. I might’ve suspected that was the case, but seeing the desolate look in his green eyes as he finished his pasta tightened my chest until I couldn’t breathe.

I struggled to keep the conversation going, casting back to a different point. “Wait, what’s a catalyst?”

“You’re one. It’s somebody destined for great things.”

“And who gets offered a deal. But … what opposition?” I seized on that like a lifeline. There were so many mysteries that I couldn’t decide what I needed to know most—or what might get in him in trouble, if Wedderburn was listening.

A flicker of his eyes told me his boss wouldn’t like him focusing on the downside of this arrangement. He was supposed to be wooing me, not scaring me. “It’s complicated.”

But I couldn’t help asking. “What I’m extrapolating is that I could be in danger?”

“That’s why I told you not to trust anyone but me. The competition might contact you, just to screw with your head.”

Damn. Apparently, when I’d worried that the deal seemed good to be true, I was on target. Yet if I hadn’t, my parents would’ve claimed my body from the morgue, and I wouldn’t even be here. So the complications and risks were better than the alternative.

“Because…?”

“If they shift the equilibrium enough, your fate changes and you cease to be a factor in play. If that happens, you lose value as an asset, and Wedderburn puts you to work.”

I thought about that. “So … whatever you were supposed to accomplish, it’s not happening, because this girl died?”

He nodded.

“And you’re trapped because you have no way to repay the favors. That could happen to me, huh?”

“It could,” he admitted. “There’s no way to be sure what events are pivotal in your personal timeline. You’ve heard about the butterfly effect?”

“I’ve read about chaos theory, and I probably qualify as a strange attractor.” It was a weak joke at best, but my heart caught at his smile. “I think I see where you’re going with this. Basically, there’s no way to be sure I’ll retain my worth as a catalyst.”

“I’m sorry, Edie. I wish I could guarantee your safety.” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, as if bracing for intense pain.

I immediately wanted that look off his face. “Hey, it’s okay. At least you’re honest.”

Or is he? There was no way for me to verify any of this … unless …

“What’s your last name?” I hated myself a little for asking.

“Riley. Do you intend to check me out?”

“Do you blame me? Your story might be sympathy bait.”

“I don’t. Feel free to look it up. You can use my phone if yours doesn’t have Internet. The scandal with my dad was pretty well publicized.”

Mentally I did the math as I took his cell. If he was twenty, it would’ve all happened nine years back. So I specified the date in the search bar, along with “Riley Ponzi scheme” and the phone spat back a bunch of links. I picked one at random and read a summary of what he’d just told me.

“Is your mom all right?”

“She’s in and out of programs, they never stick. She misses being a socialite but she doesn’t have the money to support the lifestyle. So she goes back to using to cope.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be. Working for Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf has its perks.” Judging by the sardonic twist of his mouth, this was more verbal propaganda.

So I played along. “Like what?”

“The house in Colorado. And they don’t mind if I take college classes as long as I keep up with my workload.”

“Which right now is only me.”

I thought about the cabin he’d brought me to, back at the start of the summer. At least they paid well for him to afford a place with a view like that. He was pretty young to own property, and his favors had only included the car, not wealth.

“True. Lucky me.” He was smiling, but I wondered how far I could trust him.

Kian might be playing a long game, building rapport for reasons that would become clear only after he sprang the trap. After all, that was what I planned to do with the Teflon crew, so I couldn’t believe the warmth I saw reflected in his green eyes. On one hand, he had saved my life, but a girl was dead because of him. Though I wanted to, I couldn’t trust him.

“Do you talk to your mom much?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I can’t be around her when she’s using. But I pay for rehab when she chooses to go. Once a year, she has a ‘breakthrough,’ makes a bunch of promises about how it’ll be different, and we start the cycle all over again.”

“That sucks.” Possibly the least insightful response ever offered.

“Yeah.”

“Is it possible for me to tour Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf?” I asked, mostly because I regretted prying, and it was the first topic that sprang to mind.

“Sure. Why?”

“Knowledge is power.”

He studied me for a few seconds, then nodded. “I’ll talk to my boss and set it up. Just … be prepared. If he permits you to access more than the public areas, you’ll see some … strange things.”

“I can hardly wait.” The reply was pure bravado. I couldn’t let him see how nervous I was, or the fact that I was in way over my head.

After that, we finished our food—it was really good—and he drove me home. I was wary of getting too deep before I had a handle on what I’d learned. Kian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. The more I learned about him, the more torn I was. Part of me thought that with so much tragedy in his past, he just couldn’t be as simple and straightforward as he pretended. It made me feel like he had to be playing me. He cast a few looks in my direction, but I couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead I stared out the window at the passing buildings. Once he reached for my hand, but I pulled back and flattened it on my knee. His breath caught, a whisper of sound I barely heard against the rush of the vents.

Smooth, Edie. You hurt his feelings.

By the time he pulled up in front of the brownstone, tension quivered in the air between. I hardly knew what to say. Finally, I managed, “Thanks for dinner.”

“I’ll call you.” He didn’t ask for a kiss or suggest we go out again. In fact, he wasn’t even looking at me.

The distance came from me, but crazily, I didn’t like it. Sitting here wouldn’t solve anything, so I offered a jerky nod and climbed out. It took all of my resolve not to look back, but as I climbed the steps to the entryway, the Mustang roared off. Then I did spin around, watching the red car weave into traffic and turn the corner a block down.

Sorry, Kian.

I plodded upstairs. My dad was home, but my mom wasn’t. He still had on his tweed jacket, which made him look like a professor, and maybe that was the point. He glanced up from the journal he was reading and asked, “How was your day?”

“Fine. I had an early dinner, so I’m getting started on my homework.”

“Good idea.”

That concluded the parental talk for the day. He went back to his article as I headed for my room. I did try to focus on the assigned reading, but certain aspects of Kian’s story gnawed at me. Guilt plucked at me because I’d definitely cooled off toward the end, communicating my reservations unmistakably. With a muttered curse, I threw down my World History book and opened my laptop. I pulled it across my lap and opened the browser.

First I searched for information about his father, just in case his phone had been tampered with, but I came up with the same results. Albert J. Riley’s house of cards tumbled today. After defrauding hundreds of investors, the self-styled financial genius died at his Pennsylvania home. In a double tragedy … I read on, confirming that Kian had, in fact, lost his sister that day. Riley is survived by his wife, Vanessa, and his son, Kian.

But this wasn’t enough to put my mind at ease, so I input “local girl suicide” plus the town name and the story came up, short and to the point. Tanya Jackson of Cross Point, Pennsylvania, took her life today. She had a history of mental instability and she overdosed on her mother’s prescription medication. EMTs attempted to revive her, but ultimately failed, and she was pronounced dead on her arrival at Cross Point Memorial Hospital. It seemed … bizarre that whatever Kian was meant to achieve, it had been tied inextricably to one teenage girl. What if I screwed up my timeline unintentionally?

You’ll end up enslaved to Wedderburn, too.

That sent a shiver down my spine. Well, at least now I had proof that Kian hadn’t made it all up to engage my sympathies. Reassuring, even as I suspected there was something off about the whole thing. I couldn’t dismiss the possibility that he had, in fact, wanted Tanya dead. Maybe that was his wish, not for her to fall in love with him. I had no idea if murder could be one of the favors; he’d said it was limited only by imagination and the company didn’t seem to value human life very much.

You could ask, a little voice whispered.

Someone at Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf might be willing to talk, though that would reveal that I didn’t trust Kian. No way to tell how that would impact the game he was running on his boss about making me fall for him so I’d use my favors faster. Damn. It’s too much to decide about tonight. My life had turned from untenable to unfathomable in the space of a summer, and each step felt like walking across a high wire.

On impulse I searched Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf, just to see what came up. A glossy Web site provided very little information on what the company actually did. The mission statement was about as illuminating as the one in Blackbriar’s brochures. Our responsibility, professionally, is to leverage resources in order to orchestrate diverse opportunities. Our challenge is to proactively maintain information to allow us to innovate cutting-edge mindshare. Our goal is to seamlessly create new technologies to stay relevant in tomorrow’s world. Losing interest in figuring out if WM&G had any products or services, I clicked around the site. In time I found Kian’s name on one of the subpages. He was listed as a financial analyst and it gave his e-mail address. I almost added it to my laptop contacts, then I decided we probably shouldn’t use company servers.

The executives had pages all to themselves, especially the titular ones. I selected Karl Wedderburn and read his bio. In his picture, he looked like an elderly man, well-groomed mustache, and a thick head of white hair, but there was an unnerving look in his eyes, even in the photo. He looked older than the sixty years the picture gave him, and when I narrowed my eyes, it was like the pupils swallowed his irises, leaving only black holes where light should be.

“Creepy,” I whispered.

Restraining a shiver, I shut down my laptop entirely. It was possible that Kian’s talk about shadowy enemies and trusting no one had worked on me until I was suggestible, but there was just something not right about Karl Wedderburn; I could tell that much from that quick glimpse. And Kian’s at his mercy.

It took some effort, but I finished my homework and went to bed. I was just about to fall asleep when I realized I hadn’t thought to check for messages from Ryu or Vi. Tomorrow, I promised myself. First thing. I couldn’t let go of the first two real friends I ever made—and in some ways, my only link to normal life.

The next day at school, Jen was waiting for me at my locker. “I haven’t seen Allison this agitated since her hair got fried with knock-off straightening product.”

“Why?” I’d forgotten about firing the first shots at her yesterday. The revenge thing seemed almost petty in comparison to the deep water I was wading elsewhere. It wasn’t that I’d forgiven them, more that high school drama didn’t weigh heavily against life and death.

“Because you made her look like an idiot at lunch and, apparently, your boyfriend is so hot that she’s dying of jealousy.”

“I’m not sad about that,” I admitted.

She smiled. “I don’t blame you. She’s my least favorite person in our crowd. Brittany is pretty nice when you get her alone. It’s just … around other people, she feels like she has something to prove.”

“Genius.”

“I never said she was bright. In fact, that’s part of the problem. Her dad’s been telling her ‘it’s a good thing you’re pretty’ since she was ten. She thinks her brain is what keeps her skull from echoing. And she kinda … hates smart girls as a result.”

“Because she thinks she isn’t?” I didn’t want to learn more about my enemies. If I understood why Brittany acted this way, it would make it harder to bring about her downfall.

“She’s not as dumb as her dad makes her feel, but she’s not on your level. Now that you’re hot, too…” Jen shrugged. “Anyway, I’ve been told to ask you to sit with us today at lunch, but I think they’re planning something.”

“Allison and Brittany?”

She nodded. “I understand if you’d rather not deal with the drama.”

“I can handle it.” Besides, this was my way in. I felt reasonably sure I could parlay this invite into a permanent place at the table, provided I turned whatever prank they had planned back on them. If they thought I was the same beaten girl they’d abused last year … well. I smiled at Jen. “I’m looking forward to it, actually.”

Morning classes went quickly, especially since I started with AP Lit. Most of the girls stared at Colin, dreamy-eyed, but I listened to his lecture. He was good, offering insights I hadn’t considered on a poem I’d read many times before. The rest of my teachers suffered by comparison. Then it was time for the showdown at lunch.

Jen picked me up and walked with me to the cafeteria. We got food from the line and then went over to the Teflon table. They were such a fixture that they’d claimed it by scrawling on the top with Sharpies, and nobody else ever sat there, even if the whole crew was running late. This time I didn’t hesitate when I saw Cameron at the other end. I sat down beside Jen, careful to ignore him, even though my stomach was swirling like a toilet. The nausea came back, reminding me how I’d felt that day, so utterly helpless, and my mouth dry, my throat tasting of vomit.

Drawing from pure determination, I pasted on a smile and said, “Hey, Cam.”

Do people call him that? They do now.

“Cameron,” he corrected.

I opened my eyes wide as a couple of guys from the lacrosse team approached. “Seriously? You won’t let anyone shorten your name?”

“It’s because it sounds like ‘can,’” Russ Thomas said with a smirk. “As in ass and garbage.”

“Maybe you should call him Can. Because he is kind of an ass.” I paired that with a smile, making eye contact first with Russ and then with his friend Phillip.

A few more people showed up in time to hear Russ say, “I love that. After what you did to my car, bro, I will call you Can.”

“What did he do?” I asked.

Russ wore a disgusted look. “Barfed all over it. Bitch can’t hold his liquor.”

“That’s … surprising.” With a twitch of my shoulder, I dismissed Cameron Dean and listened to Russ ramble about the lacrosse team’s chances at the championship this year.

I cared minuscule amounts about that, but his attention kept Brittany and Allison from talking to me because every time they tried to start whatever drama they’d planned, he aimed a disgruntled look in their direction and said, “Christ, you can talk to her about how awesome her hair is later.”

Which was incredibly offensive, as girls did talk about issues more important than hair and makeup, but since it served my purposes, I didn’t call him on it. Not like I’m being myself with these imbeciles anyway. So if the pretense made me a little sick to my stomach, it was understandable.

As break ended, I said to Russ, “We have the next class together, don’t we?”

Sadly he had to think about it. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Want to walk me? I’d like to hear more about lacrosse.” I capped my smile, giving just enough warmth to show interest in the sport, not Russ.

Since I have a boyfriend. Who might’ve killed the last girl who rejected him.

“A budding fan, huh? Absolutely.”

Davina watched us go, wearing an expression I couldn’t interpret. Once we left the others, I pitched my voice low. “What’s the deal with Can?”

He snickered at the nickname. “What do you mean?”

“He seems a little … sensitive.” I said it like it was a dirty word. To most guys it seemed to be.

“You mean, like he can’t take a joke?”

I nodded. “I’ve seen him dish it out, but…”

“Yeah. To tell you the truth, he’s kind of a whiny bitch. We roll with him because he’s got a sweet house and his parents are never home.”

“Interesting.” I smiled up at him, making a mental note to repeat that in front of Allison at the first opportunity. I suspected she wouldn’t have the judgment to be discreet.

Russ shouldered through the halls, and smaller students got out of the way. I felt like an asshole walking with him. He stopped outside our class and gestured for me to go ahead. It was interesting, like an anthropological experiment, to see that he was capable of using manners with someone he considered worth the trouble.

“You’re a nice guy,” I lied.

He winked at me. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”