Chapter 14
Lila watched the cars and shops pass by the truck as the pair sped through New Bristol, the skyscrapers growing larger the closer they drove to downtown. They’d only been a few dozen steel peaks in the distance for the last two days, barely visible above the oracle’s stone wall. She’d nearly forgotten them, as though their influence decreased with their size.
They might not have existed at all.
Dixon exited the highway and turned toward Shippers Lane. The familiar path spurred an unfamiliar reaction in her chest, and her mood thickened the closer they came to the shop. When they stopped at the last light, her chest had become so heavy she could hardly breathe, and her throat had closed so much that she could barely swallow. The grin Blair had gifted Dixon had long faded, and his fingers clenched the wheel at the last light.
“You want to drive past,” Lila guessed, fumbling for her mesh hood.
Dixon shrugged.
The light turned green. The truck didn’t budge.
“I don’t want to go either, but there are things I need in your apartment. Besides, you can’t wear the same thing all week. Blair wouldn’t notice, but washing your clothes every morning would get tedious. I don’t care how much you like that pink robe.”
A car honked behind them.
Dixon finally lifted his foot off the brake. The truck limped into the shop.
Lila donned her hood, annoyed that she must wear the damn thing.
Did she really have to anymore? She was an exile, wasn’t she?
On the other hand, why flash her identity if it wasn’t necessary? She only had to wear it one more time, for although Tristan had insisted for years that he needed her expertise, he’d not asked for her help on his current case. He hadn’t even told her what it was about.
It seemed she wasn’t so important after all.
Surprise, surprise. More lies. More empty words.
“This is the last time I come here,” she vowed over the softly screeching brakes. “Should your brother ever require my assistance for anything again, he’ll have to seek me out elsewhere.”
Dixon put the truck into park.
“I’m tired of playing with a hood.”
A wrinkled knuckle wrapped sharply on Dixon’s window. “You two getting out or aren’t you?” Shirley asked, her voice muffled through the glass. Her assistants rolled up on tiptoes at their places, peeking into the truck.
Dixon and Lila disembarked, handing over the keys.
“Boss man’s upstairs.”
Lila trailed upstairs behind Dixon. He peeked into the apartment, craning his head in both directions before making a beeline toward the heater, then the kitchen. Snatching up the kettle, he started a pot of hot chocolate, metal clattering against metal.
Lila shoved her hood into her coat pocket.
The door to Tristan’s room opened. He emerged wearing a pair of pajama pants and a scowl. “Where have you been?” he asked his brother, ignoring Lila altogether.
She wouldn’t have answered anyway. This was the chest she’d wanted to see yesterday evening, not Nico’s, but she didn’t want to see what Katia had made of it. She’d been a little rough the night before, leaving a red mark across his back. Lila couldn’t help but wonder what they’d been doing.
Had she ever left marks?
Dixon flipped to the back of his notepad, remembering at the last moment that no fresh pages remained. He tossed it on the counter and abandoned his kettle, retreating to his bedroom.
Tristan gawked at the abandoned notepad. His eyes slid to Lila, his expression sullen. He didn’t say a word about the nasty bruise on her cheek. Perhaps she only merited concern when they slept together.
That hurt.
She should have grabbed her bag and her laptop. She could have retreated from the apartment and returned downstairs to wait in the truck.
Instead she plopped down on the leather sofa chair, trying to not look at her ex.
Why had she ever laid a finger on Tristan? She’d known how it would play out. She’d only been wrong about how she’d feel about it.
Dixon returned with a fresh pad. I’m on vacation. I just came back to get some clothes.
“Came back from where?”
The oracle’s compound. I’m helping Lila.
“You’re working the case without me? So much for a vacation. You didn’t even tell me where you were going.”
You’re not my boss. You’re my brother. Besides, you’ve been busy. Dixon’s gaze flitted toward the bathroom. The shower turned off, and the apartment grew quiet.
Lila hadn’t even noticed. Perhaps she hadn’t wanted to notice. Reluctantly, she slipped her hood over her face once more.
“I’ve been busy before. It never bothered you then.”
Do you even want to work the oracle’s case?
“Of course I do.”
Fine. We’re here now. Or do you have other plans?
The door to the bathroom opened. Katia emerged, her hair wet, her eyes widening at Dixon and Lila’s reappearance. She straightened her black trousers and gray sweater and cleared her throat. “Hello.”
Lila’s gaze swept over her, landing on her neck. Katia had a slave’s scar, a scar that she and Tristan shared.
Why hadn’t Lila noticed it before? Because she didn’t want to look too hard at her replacement?
Lila’s stomach twisted as Katia sat on the end of the couch near her. “Are you and Dixon together now?” she whispered.
Dixon withdrew two mugs from a kitchen cabinet, ignoring Tristan’s attempts to push his fresh notepad closer.
“Dixon and I have been working together, Katia, nothing more,” Lila said, seeing no reason to whisper.
Tristan gave up on Dixon and sat on the couch next to Katia, watching Lila’s mesh hood. “I find that hard to believe. My brother’s been tied up tighter than a sailor’s knot the last month. He comes back after a couple of days with you, and he’s suddenly more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him.”
“Maybe he just needed to get away. Maybe he still does.”
“With you? I don’t recall you being particularly restful.”
“Play back this conversation and then ask me who’s the restful one.” Lila retreated to Dixon’s room. She knelt in the corner, digging through her bag, snatching up her hard drive and a cable.
She returned to find Katia still on the couch. Tristan had gone back into the kitchen. He and Dixon hunched over the counter, their heads bent over mugs and Dixon’s notepad.
Perhaps Tristan had coaxed him out of silence with a different attitude.
Good. The sooner they talked, the sooner she could leave. Hopefully, Tristan’s renewed bluster in helping hadn’t been serious. His help in combing through the logs would have been nice, but she’d rather not sleep all week than ask for it now.
Lila plopped down at Toxic’s desktop, which had been left untouched in the corner. She woke it up and inserted a cable. The tower chugged back to life.
Katia slid a barrel footstool beside her, the bottom scraping against the hardwood floor. She sat down and squirmed on the seat, her fingers combing through her damp hair. “I’ve known Dixon for a very long time. He’s a good man.”
“Katia, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but I don’t have time for matchmaking. I really do need to work. That’s the only reason why I came back. I wouldn’t even stay if Dixon didn’t need to speak to his brother and pack a bag.”
She wouldn’t have stayed if she had money, either. She would have taken her car back to the oracle’s compound. Unfortunately, she didn’t have enough gas.
Lila transferred a program from a star drive to the computer.
Katia watched the screen as Lila ran the program. “You don’t have to wear that hood around me, you know. You can trust me. I’ve known all about this place for nearly a year, and I’ve kept the secret. I take such things very seriously.”
Lila’s fingers stilled upon the keyboard. “He brought you here last year?”
“Of course—early February, back when he first thought about buying it. He wanted my opinion. I advised him to make the purchase. What did you say?”
Lila typed so heavily that the keys might have gone flying off. Tristan hadn’t brought her to the shop until after he’d abandoned the last safe house. They’d been in the middle of a job together, and she’d had no idea where he’d gone.
He’d brought his ex-lover, though.
“It’s much better than that drafty old hotel, don’t you think?” Katia asked. “The renovations might take ages, but the shop is a good cover. It was worth it in the end.”
Lila transferred the kitten pictures onto the computer. “I think it’s great that you guys kept in touch while you were away at college.”
“Of course we kept in touch. We’ll always be together in some form or fashion. Why else would Tristan keep me around?” Katia’s eyes widened suddenly. “No, I didn’t mean it like—”
“Of course you meant it,” Lila said, waving her off. “You didn’t mean it as a slight, though. I know when someone’s being catty. Besides, you’re right. He wouldn’t have remained friends with you unless he wanted to get back together.”
“I didn’t mean get back together.”
“Why not? You and Tristan seem like a good couple.”
“Did you and Tristan seem like a good couple?”
“No.” Lila set her programs to run. “Look, I don’t know what he’s told you, but I think you have the wrong idea about us. We weren’t lovers. What happened between us was brief and stupid and never should have happened at all. It was a mistake on both our parts.”
“Really?” Katia turned her head back toward the kitchen.
“Really.”
The truth struck Lila once more. She really had made a mistake. A big one. She’d believed Tristan when he claimed that he’d fallen in love with her, that she was the only one for him. He’d taken an ex-lover more seriously. He’d given Katia far more of his trust and time. If Lila had abandoned her family for him, she would have woken up to a reality he hadn’t promised, to a man who hadn’t cared that deeply about her, to a man who had done nothing but lie.
What would she have done when he introduced her to Katia?
If he introduced her?
She would have felt like a fool.
Perhaps Tristan wasn’t as monogamous as he claimed. All that bullshit about highborn cheating. All that shaming about the highborn taking multiple lovers. All of that, and he’d kept Katia in the background, waiting.
Gods, Katia could have him. She was done with Tristan.
She was done with all men.
“Here’s a piece of advice, Katia. Never sleep with someone you work with. Shit just gets awkward.”
Katia scratched at her slave’s scar. “Are you sure it was just sex? He called you his ex.”
“He broke up with you ages ago, yet you two never stopped talking to one another. He can’t wait to get rid of me. What does that tell you?”
Katia turned back to the kitchen.
“In any case, I won’t be staying for long. I only needed to get the rest of my things, and perhaps Toxic’s help in reviewing some logs.”
“Toxic? I think she’s gone on a job. Can I help?”
Lila nodded, hoping she wouldn’t regret it later. Even ten minutes of help would be ten minutes. “All right, just until Dixon and Tristan are finished with their tête-à-tête in the kitchen. The more eyes the better. What was your degree in?”
“Business, with a concentration in natural resources. A lot of lowborn are hiring, trying to compete against the highborn in the industry. I might even have a job lined up next month. I’m reading through a half-dozen contracts right now, seeing which one offers the best benefits.”
“A half-dozen? Congratulations,” Lila said sincerely. “Use that business expertise from school and your common sense on the logs I’m giving you. Look for things that seem weird to you. Messages that sound awkward, like they’ve been written in code or by lawyers using doublespeak. Or people sending nothing but kitten pictures.”
“Oh, I like kitten pictures!”
“Yeah, but you’d send a few words along with your picture, wouldn’t you? ‘Hey, Tristan, check out this cute picture.’ Then you’d add a title. Something. It’s human nature.”
“Ick, not to Tristan. He doesn’t like cats. He’s more of a dog person.”
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” Lila spent a few moments outlining things Katia should flag. At the same time, she downloaded a few batches of files that she had not gone through, saving them to a spare tablet. “Flag whatever looks odd to you. Even if you mark half of them, that’s still half I don’t have to look through.”
“On it.”
“Of course, you should keep anything you read to yourself. I pulled every user ID from the list, but I don’t think anyone on that compound would enjoy the thought of a stranger reading their private communications. If you’ve ever had any loyalty to the oracles—”
“I would never do anything against them.”
“Good. I trust you.” Lila handed over the tablet.
The weird thing was that Lila did trust the young woman. Katia was nice, sweet, and completely uncomplicated. No wonder Tristan had fallen in love with her. No wonder he’d never let her go. Being with Katia was like falling into a bed of rose petals, rather than shards of glass.
Lila flipped her hands over, studying the scars that cut across her palms. Perhaps Tristan had been the same for her.
Katia shoved the footstool back to the couch and sprawled out with her tablet, already scanning through the data she’d been given. Lila joined her, settling in with her laptop as she searched her own portion of the files.
Dixon startled her half an hour later, handing her a mug of hot chocolate. “Are you ready to go?” she asked, and blew on the liquid to cool it.
He looked unsure. He and his brother had talked, and Tristan had obviously convinced him to stay. What had his brother said to change his mind?
“Hood’s letting me help,” Katia said when Tristan snuck a peak at her screen. “I’m on the case now too.”
“Really?” Tristan snorted. “Usually Hood doesn’t trust anyone or anything but her own brain, her own computers, and her own programs. The rest of us—”
“Do you want to help too?” Lila asked.
“Am I needed? Do you want something from me today?”
Lila refused to rise to the bait. “Bring me a tablet, and I’ll give you some files.”
After a moment’s pause, Tristan wandered into his room. He returned with a tablet. Lila sectioned off a portion of the filtered logs and loaded it onto the device, then handed it to Tristan.
I should help too, Dixon wrote, his shoulders sinking.
Duty, then. Tristan had appealed to his sense of duty.
Gods, it was like being on the Randolph estate, watching as her mother pulled on someone’s strings.
Lila said nothing, though. It wasn’t any of her business. Dixon would have to stand up for himself, just as she’d had to push back against her mother the day before.
Lila loaded another tablet and tilted her lips toward Dixon’s ear. “We don’t have to be in the same room to do this, you know. You and I can go back to the cabin. They can send me what they’ve flagged.”
Dixon shook his head. How long will it take to go through this list if we all work on it?
“A day?”
Good. That means if we all work hard on this, you can get some sleep tonight.
Lila sipped her hot chocolate and returned to her file, a file much larger than what she’d given the others. Regardless of what Dixon had written, she intended on working throughout the night.
From time to time, Katia leaned over and showed something to Tristan, usually ending with him nodding and agreeing. It didn’t take long for the pair to get more comfortable. Katia shifted on the end of the couch and put her bare feet in his lap. While Tristan scanned through his files, his fingers latched on to her toes, absently pressing and rubbing.
It was another small cut among hundreds. Tristan had never liked her feet. He’d just liked feet. Or perhaps he’d been thinking of Katia’s feet while he’d massaged hers. The more she saw of Tristan and Katia, the less special she felt, the more she felt her entire relationship with the man had been a lie.
As she snuck glances at Tristan, she began to wonder about her own feelings. Had he really been so special for her? Could she have the same feelings for someone else?
Perhaps Nico?
Lila pretended to read a message while her mind slipped away. Maybe she shouldn’t swear off all men. Connell and Mòr seemed happy enough, didn’t they?
Lila returned her attention to her list, wondering if that couple ever spaced out and focused on their partners rather than work. For the brief few weeks she’d been with Tristan, she’d often work at the great house, because it had been difficult to concentrate around him.
Her mind had drifted toward sex when he’d been around.
Not sex, actually. She’d daydreamed about making love. Sex was different. Sex was the scratch of a natural bodily function, little different than eating and drinking to cure hunger and thirst. Making love consumed you. Making love satisfied you.
Making love fucked with your mind. Made you believe things you shouldn’t, even when you knew better.
Making love turned you into a fool.
Perhaps sex should be her only goal from now on. Love dulled your concentration and your senses. She had lost herself in the feeling. She’d been tempted to give up her entire world.
And for what?
For nothing. None of it had been real. The proof was right before her. She’d been a pit stop until he could return to Katia, the woman he’d always wanted, the woman he’d always trusted so completely.
The thing inside her belly taunted her, making her feel even more idiotic. Gods, what if the baby did turn out to be his? Was that why she cared so much? Was that why she couldn’t move on?
Had her hormones merely shifted?
Clearly, Tristan had nothing holding him back. He’d already moved on to the next woman. No anchor dragged him into the deep, but she could only gulp and scratch at the waves, drowning. Maybe she’d continue to drown, never able to break the surface until she got rid of the thing inside her.
Maybe it knew its father. Maybe it couldn’t let go either.
If Tristan even was the father.
Pulling out her palm, she typed a message to her doctor. I need to talk about paternity testing tomorrow.
It vibrated almost immediately, drawing Tristan’s attention.
We can do that. I’ll see you at six.
The desktop in the corner beeped as she slipped her palm back into her pocket.
Lila put down her laptop and shuffled to the back of the room, reviewing the results of the first photo. Her hunch had been correct. There really was something embedded in the pixels, but that something was gibberish.
Another code?
She let the program work on the rest of the kitten pictures sent from the account, using the same decryption algorithm on each one. Then she brought up her snoop programs and launched them at the file of gibberish.
“You’ve found something?” Tristan asked from the couch.
Lila turned her head.
The group blinked at her expectantly.
“I’m not sure yet. I won’t know for several hours. Perhaps days. Don’t disturb this computer. It’s coping with quite a lot right now.”
“That means she has.” Tristan stretched on the end of the couch. “It also means we can safely order dinner without fear of repercussions.”
Katia chuckled. “Then that is a very good thing indeed. Plum Luck?”
“Plum Luck. What do you want, Hood?”
Lila pecked at a few keys. He knew very well what she wanted. Usually he’d order for her while she worked on more important tasks. “Kung pao chicken.”
Tristan’s head snapped up. “You’ve never ordered that before.”
“Perhaps my tastes have changed.”
Dixon scribbled something on his notepad, and Tristan pulled out his palm, punching in the restaurant’s ID.
Lila returned to the sofa, snatching up her laptop once more. She’d managed to scroll through fifty log entries before Tristan excused himself and returned with three Plum Luck Dragon takeout bags.
Katia snatched up her food and two forks. “Let’s leave these two alone.”
Gods, despite what she’d said, Katia still believed that Lila had been the cause of Dixon’s good mood, a mood that had stalled over the last few hours.
Tristan took his dinner and followed Katia into his bedroom.
Lila whipped off her hood and snatched up the container of kung pao chicken, food she had no desire to eat.
Why the fuck had she ordered it?
You haven’t looked at me the entire day.
She poked her food with a plastic fork. “I’m looking at you now.”
No, you aren’t. You’re mad me.
“I’m not mad at you.”
Dixon closed the Styrofoam lid on her food and grabbed her chin, turning it to face his.
“I don’t understand why you pushed me towards Tristan when you knew he was with Katia the whole time, when you knew he was still in love with her,” she whispered. “You never told me about her. He never even told me about her.”
He wasn’t with her anymore. Did you tell him about your ex-lovers?
“That’s a lot different. There was nothing to tell. I’d never had feelings for them.”
There was nothing to tell in his case, either. He hadn’t been with Katia in two years. They’d become friends.
“Oh, yeah, I’ve heard how friendly they are.”
I’m not wrong.
“I think you don’t know your brother as well as you think. Either that or you want something for him that he doesn’t want for himself.”
She’s not right for him.
“No, she’s perfect for him. I’m the one who was never right for him.”
This thing with Katia isn’t going to last. He’s not doing it to be with her. He’s—
Lila stilled his pencil. “I don’t care why he’s doing it. It’s none of my business. I was right when I said we never would have worked in the end, and I know now that we never really worked at all. He never meant any of what he said. He made me believe I was special, but seeing him with Katia has made one thing clear. No one is special. No one is one person’s everything. It’s all pointless bedroom chatter.”
That’s bullshit.
“I don’t think it is. If I wanted to, I could have those feelings for someone else. We were only together for a few weeks. We’ve been broken up for longer than that. I’m over him.”
No, you aren’t.
“I’m over the illusion. He’s over me and moved on. I intend on doing the same.”
You’re wrong. He isn’t over you. If he were, he wouldn’t be giving me a death glare every time I look at you.
“I think he’s just annoyed that you’re playing with his discarded toy. All that bullshit about workborn monogamy and—”
As a plume of anger stirred in her chest, she realized that her feelings for Tristan had begun to shift away from love. “You know what, Dixon? I really don’t want to talk about this anymore, not ever again. I’d rather hear why we’re not going back to the oracle’s compound.”
He shrugged.
“If you want a break from all this, you deserve a break. Whatever guilt trip he pulled on you earlier, tell him to shove it straight up his—”
He saved me from that place. I owe him.
“Did he bring that up?”
No. He’d never say anything like that.
“He thinks you’re choosing someone else instead of him. It always goes back to that. At some point, you’ve got to make him realize that you’re choosing yourself, not another person. You have a right to your own life. If you want to join up with Tristan, fine. If you don’t, that should be fine too. Otherwise, he’s putting you in a cage, whether he means to or not. He acts just like a damn matron sometimes.”
Dixon popped the lid on her lunch.
Lila slammed it back down. “Oh, no. We’re not done. I also want to hear about your night with Blair, especially what happened after breakfast.”
Dixon stared at his sweet and sour pork. You only ordered that to screw with Tristan’s head. You made your point. I ordered this so we could trade. I know you like it.
“Thanks, but you’re not getting out of this so easily.” She said, smacking him in the arm. “I want details. Lots of details.”
Lila made loud kissy noises, then giggled harder and harder as Dixon blushed crimson.
The bedroom door opened, and Tristan stepped inside. “It’s just me.”
Tristan stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of wine glasses. His eyes washed over Dixon’s cheeks. “Do you want any wine?”
Both Lila and Dixon shook their heads.
Tristan gave Dixon one last look, grabbed a bottle of wine, then returned to his bedroom.
“So?” Lila prodded, a little giggle escaping. “Start with last night. What happened?”
Dixon swapped their meals then returned to his scribbling. Nothing much. She’d ask a question. While I wrote out an answer, she’d work. It was sort of nice, actually. I didn’t have anyone staring at me while I wrote.
Lila realized she’d been staring while he wrote.
She looked away.
He grabbed her chin and turned it back. It’s okay. I don’t mind when you and Tristan do it. You’re not impatient. You’re interested.
“So you just talked?”
Mostly. We looked at a few stars, too. I suppose she thought she’d stump me, but I knew enough of them for her to be impressed. She talked about her work. Perhaps that impressed her more than anything else. No one listens to her when she talks, at least about things she wants to talk about.
“And?”
Dixon looked away.
“You totally kissed her!”
He blushed and fiddled with his notepad.
“You really like her, don’t you?”
Dixon forked a bite of chicken and didn’t answer.
“Send her a message, then. She should be awake by now, and women like that, especially women as pragmatic as Blair. I don’t think she kisses guys that often.”
So she kisses women?
Lila slapped his shoulder, and Dixon erupted into laughter. He pulled out his palm, though, and began crafting a message.
After dinner, the group reconvened. They pored over the files until nearly midnight, when Tristan and Katia finally finished their sections and excused themselves for bed.
“You should go too,” Lila said to Dixon as she tossed her hood onto the coffee table. “You didn’t even sleep last night.”
Come too. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.
“I gave myself most of the files, and I’m only two-thirds through. Go to bed, Dixon, you’re exhausted.”
I could say the same about you. There’s not a time limit on this, Lila.
“We don’t know that.”
Dixon made her a pot of tea, then finally went to bed.
Light snores soon came through the open door. It contrasted greatly with the noises from the other bedroom.
Tristan and Katia had opted for a bit of fun.
Lila’s gaze fell upon the locker in the back of the room. She could find plenty of Sangre inside to occupy her mind. I didn’t matter if she had a few glasses, did it? After all, she had no plans to keep the baby. She’d tell Helen as much at her appointment.
Lila tapped her fingernails against the armrest, lost in thought, then returned to the files.
Hours later, long after Katia and Tristan had finally settled down for sleep, she stood up and stretched her legs. Wandering into the kitchen, she put the kettle back on for some hot chocolate. The sun would rise soon. She’d gotten used to watching it at the cottage, striding out onto the dock regardless of the weather, the cold breezes playing with her hair.
Toxic’s computer emitted a feeble beep.
Lila turned off the burner and dashed to the computer, watching as her programs decoded each file and placed it in a folder. It quickly filled up with several years’ worth of messages.
Two or three years’ worth, to be exact.
Lila opened the files as her program finished, but all she found was more gibberish.
She plopped into her chair and scrolled deeper through the text. The more she read, the more she saw pockets of understanding. A word in Spanish. A word in French.
Italian, maybe? The algorithm had worked, but writer had not been writing in English. Her programs had used a hundred different dictionaries to make language comparisons while decoding, and a small subset of a few thousand others to cover the rest.
Why in the world hadn’t she been looking for Italian?
“This is why I trust computers,” Lila muttered to herself, opening a translation program. She copied the first file and let it work, but the result didn’t make much sense.
Taking out her palm, she sent a brief message to the oracle. I might have found something. Do you know anyone who speaks Italian?
Lila didn’t wait for a response.
Instead of venturing into Dixon’s room for some much-needed sleep, she took a shower and grabbed her car keys.
She had a doctor’s appointment to get to.