Divided (15 page)

I decided to take Auden home to the Grid. Completely unable to guess how Chord’s going to react. I came close to telling him earlier in my text but I made myself shut up.

There is nothing I can say or do that will make things easier, to keep Chord from instantly thinking of Luc’s incompletion when he first sees Auden.

Easier said than done. I should know. To look over, see my brother, and tell myself I don’t know this person.

“Sabian,” Auden says stiffly. “When he hired you. He never said why?”

“Only that you were an Alt to one of the Level One kids and needed to be assassinated for the sake of Kersh as a whole.”

He shakes his head. His smooth cap of hair that is so different than how Luc wore his, though the color is identical. “I don’t get it,” he mutters.

I don’t tell him that I think we’ll find out soon enough. Too soon, probably, when it comes down to it, our lives being on the line. So I tell him what I
have
figured out.

“You already being a complete actually explains a lot,” I begin. Carefully, the way I would with anyone I’ve just met, who I know nothing about. “Now I understand why Sabian had to get a total outsider to do it. The other Board members know you, and they know you’re a complete.”

“So Sabian told you I was still an idle.
Would
you have accepted the contract if you knew I was a complete?” His eyes are suddenly wary again. Just because I’ve made it obvious I’m not going to kill him doesn’t mean I’m not a danger to the system, to the barrier.

“No, I …” I trail off, suddenly no longer sure how deep I would have fallen. If Sabian promised me the same thing, and somehow convinced me that killing Auden would be for the good of the city, would I make the same decision? Would I let myself be convinced? “I didn’t know,” I add lamely. This much is true at least.

“What was he like, your brother?” Auden asks.

“His name was Luc,” I say, my voice flat. I turn away, look straight ahead. There’s an elderly couple at the front of the train watching us, and I wonder what they’re seeing. Two people who resemble each other enough to be siblings. I bet anything they haven’t come close to guessing the truth: a fifteen-year-old striker with her target, who also happens to be the Alt of her dead brother.

“You’re not betraying him by talking to me, you know,” Auden says when it’s clear I’m not going to continue.

His logic makes me feel foolish, immature. It must be a big brother thing because Luc managed to do that a lot, too. I exhale. “Luc was a good guy. He had a really great sense of humor—way better than mine, though I’m sure you would never have guessed.”

Auden laughs, but it’s abrupt and over quickly, as though he feels bad for forgetting even for a second that we’re in deep trouble.

“I miss that a lot, just having him around to make me laugh,” I add. “He and Chord were best friends, and they used to get mixed up in all kinds of—”

“Who’s Chord?”

“My boyfriend.”

“Is that who you were texting earlier?”

“Yes.”

“So does he know about who I am? About Sabian or any of this?”

“Some. Just … some.” I think back to Chord in that hotel room and watching him learn to not trust me. “But we’re meeting up with him now, and I’m going to have to tell him everything.”

“It’s going to be weird for him. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t have a choice,” I say. Suddenly I feel defensive and mean. “And if Luc had been given the choice to become an active, he might be the complete and not you.” Before I’m done saying it, I already know how unfair I’m being. I rub my eyes. “Sorry, I didn’t mean … that came out wrong.”

“I didn’t kill him,” Auden says.

“And you want to hear that you could have?” I ask, very serious.

“It doesn’t matter now.”

It doesn’t.

“When the notice came in that I was a complete,” Auden says, “I was shocked.”

“And relieved,” I murmur.

“Well, wouldn’t you be?” Silence, and then he says carefully, “It said he was a PK.” So curious about this person who could have meant his own death.

“Yes, he was, all right? I was there. I saw the whole thing.”

He has no response to that, and I’m glad for it. What can he say? That he’s sorry? That he’s not? My hands tighten on my bag, and I don’t want to think about Luc anymore. It feels wrong to talk about him with this stranger.

Auden sits up straighter in his seat. “Wait. Did you ever ask Sabian why he wanted
you
for this?” he asks. A thoughtful expression on his face. Something’s crossed his mind.

I glare at him, wanting to know what he’s thinking, hating to ask. “Because I’m good, that’s why.”

He coughs into his hand, doesn’t bother to cover up the slight roll of his eyes. “That’s nice, but anything more specific?”

“He said because I don’t have any family left, it makes things easier,” I mutter. “No ties to worry about.”

“Level One didn’t know about your brother being my Alt because he was a PK,” Auden says slowly. “All Sabian cared about was that I was already a complete. When Alts become incompletes through anything other than a natural completion, their assignment numbers don’t get fed into the normal Alt data log, the one that Level One monitors. They go through legal first, who checks things out before passing them on. By the time Sabian and the others would have gotten to Luc’s number, he would have been already been filed as a PK.”

I remember Sabian’s watchful eyes as he told me the same thing, back in that café in the Grid. “I guess so. But what difference does it—” Now I sit up in my seat, too. Outside the train windows the streets fly by as we leave Leyton behind and enter Jethro.

I look at Auden. “When Luc died, your half of the shared assignment number automatically deactivated.” Things become clearer as I speak. “So even if I did kill you, your number wouldn’t show up on the Alt log for Level One to see. Since it’s already gone from the system.”

“And if you
didn’t
kill me, they wouldn’t know that, either.”

“But it also means I have no way of convincing them that I did it,” I say to him. “Only my word.”

“So if I stay hidden, he’ll never know I’m still alive.”

We only have a few hours left until Sabian expects to hear from me, one way or the other, and making him believe Auden’s dead would be easier if I knew why he wanted him that way.

“You’ll have to figure out pretty quickly why Sabian wants you dead,” I say to Auden. “Because if he finds out I didn’t kill you, I might as well be dead, too. We’ll both be on the run.” I wonder if I should tell him about the other two Alts. But I decide against it—what’s the point when we might end up living that kind of life, too? And what’s the point of reminding him that Sabian really
did
intend to save Board Alts … just not him?

Auden nods curtly, and his face shuts down, goes bleak with frustration.

The train enters the Grid.

This is where I’ll find Chord.

And where Chord will find a ghost from the past.

I see Chord as soon as I turn the corner. True to his word, he’s standing against the chipped brick wall between Dire’s place and the store next door, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Against the late-afternoon sunlight his familiar profile makes my heart hurt with wanting.

“Stay back for now, okay?” I hiss over my shoulder at Auden.

He stops, sighs. Makes a face and looks so much like Luc that for a second I feel my hand curl into a fist to I can punch him in the arm. “Where do you want me to go? Just … hang out here on the sidewalk?” he asks, so out of his element here.

“Yes. Whatever. Five minutes, that’s all I need.” I’m distracted, staring ahead at Chord, willing him not to turn this way and see Auden. Not yet. Not until I know what to tell him.

“Fine. I’m waiting.” Auden stands right where he is, looking ridiculous and uncomfortable and somehow still refined as the crowd swirls around him, some people giving him dirty looks as they’re forced to adjust their course.

“No, not there.” I look around. We don’t exactly stick out, but Board Operators move like smoke. I grab Auden by the arm and steer him toward a café that’s so full the front window is steamed over, making it hard to see inside. Perfect. “Just get in line or something, all right? I’ll be back as soon as I tell Chord—”

“West, it’ll be fine,” he says quietly, suddenly very serious. It’s the first time he’s said my name, and it’s like Luc’s voice is yanking me back in time. “I know they were best friends. You told me that on the train ride here, but I didn’t kill Luc, remember? Do you really think Chord’s going to have a problem meeting me?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t.” I don’t want to tell him it was Chord’s Alt who killed Luc and that the sight of Auden is going to bring back those terrible moments in one massive rush. Chord would have died for Luc; for him to see Luc’s Alt alive and well … I just don’t know.

Auden pulls open the café door, muttering to me under his breath as he leaves, “He’s coming over.”

He disappears inside, and I turn to face Chord.

I meet his eyes, and they aren’t filled with hate. They take me in, waiting, and I move closer. My heart in my mouth, I wrap my arms around his waist and simply hold on.

“You’re late,” Chord says quietly.

“I’m sorry.”

A low, rough curse. “Me too.”

“I feel like I keep saying that, but it’s true.”

“I know.”

Our mouths meet in the middle and the heat chases away whatever lingering fears I might have had.

“West,” he says against my skin. “Are you okay? How many left? Are you done?”

I feel my face start to give with the impact of his questions, the weight of his wishes, what I can’t give him yet. “I never finished, Chord.”

“So you still have to—”

“No, I don’t.” I squeeze Chord as hard as I can, to make up for the words that never come easily for me. “I don’t have to hurt anyone else, all right?”

He nods slowly. “I’m glad,” he says.

That’s all, and it’s enough.

But now I have to tell him. Auden, Sabian, both of them in my head now, demanding my attention. “Chord, there’s something else.”

A flicker of exhaustion crosses his features. “How is that even possible?”

“About why I didn’t finish.”

His hands go still. Drop to my shoulders. “That’s something
you
decided, West.”

I take a deep breath. “The last contract, the Alt I couldn’t kill—or couldn’t make into a non-Alt—it’s … it’s …”

“I don’t want to know about who you kept yourself from killing, or who you didn’t kill but still ended up destroying, anyway.” Chord’s face goes tight, reminding me again that though he accepts my being a striker because it’s who I am, it still doesn’t change what a striker is. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

“I
do
have to tell you this, Chord.” Rushing now, before it’s too late. “It’s—”

“No, you don’t, I …” And he goes absolutely still. Chord is looking over my shoulder as though he’s been pulled into the past and is no longer here with me.

“—Luc’s Alt,” I finish weakly, the words still foreign on my tongue. I turn around slowly, careful to keep myself between the two.

Auden is just leaving the café, a coffee in one hand, a tray with two others in the other.

“Wait,” I say to him as he nears. Behind me, Chord’s stunned silence is loud, a living, breathing thing. People are moving all around us, only inches away as they walk by, but they suddenly seem very far away, nothing more than a faded backdrop.

“I
did
wait,” Auden says, one eyebrow lifted. “Here.” He holds out the tray.

I yank it from him, the coffees wobbling. Holding it awkwardly, I watch Auden glance over at Chord standing behind me. The look on Auden’s face switches from confusion to curiosity to defensiveness in reaction to Chord’s silence. I’m guessing he’s wondering if he should say something to Chord first, regardless of my asking him to wait. He has no way of knowing why Chord’s shock is as great as it is.

And Chord … there is no mistaking he’s reeling. As always, it’s when he gets very quiet or goes very still that I know he’s losing it inside, and right now he’s both. He’s absolutely frozen right now, just staring at Auden like he’s watching a ghost come to life. Which isn’t that far from the truth.

I take a step back until I’m right beside Chord, grabbing one of his hands with my free one. “Chord, this is Auden. He’s Luc’s Alt. Obviously, I mean.” I look from one to the other and the moment is surreal, off-kilter.

“Yeah, I figured out that much,” Chord says stiffly, still holding Auden’s eyes with his own. His expression is wrenching, speaking of emotions I know all too well. Guilt, love, hate. “I’m … Chord.”

“Hey, I’m Auden.” He sounds casual enough, but no way can Auden miss the tension in the air, connecting the three of us. “West tell you everything? It’s a lot to take in, all at once …” I can tell he’s more nervous than he shows, the way he’s rubbing his upper arm with his free hand. Luc used to have that same habit.

Chord nods, a flicker of pain rippling across his face at the sound of Luc’s voice. His hand around mine is very warm, and holding on tightly enough that I know his nerves are stretched thin, ready to snap. Strange to be his anchor for once, when he’s always been mine. “You should be dead,” he says bluntly to Auden.

I wince. Whether he means by my hand or Luc’s, I don’t know.

Auden studies the cup in his hands. His face is full of unease again. “You might be right about that,” he says to Chord as he reaches over and tosses his still steaming drink into a nearby garbage can. “We’ll find out soon enough, I guess.”

I take Chord with me as I move over to the same garbage can. But instead of throwing away the tray of untouched drinks, I balance the whole thing on top—idle coffee or not, it’s hot, and free, and it won’t be long before an active comes by and finds it.

The sun is lowering bit by bit. Close to late afternoon now. Close to when Sabian has to hear that I’ve killed Auden.

“We’ve got to go,” I say to them, walking fast toward Dire’s place. I don’t stop to check to see if Auden’s keeping up or slow down so I’m not dragging Chord. Auden’s sharp command for the time is the only way I know he’s still behind us, and the heat of Chord’s hand in mine tells me that he’s still with me. We weave around knots of people.

“How did you find out it was him?” Chord asks me in a voice low enough so Auden can’t hear. “When?”

“Right before I was about to shoot him.”

His hand squeezes mine. “That’s … pretty timely.”

When we reach Dire’s place, I’m the first inside. Chord follows, his features hard and full of resentment as he looks around the store, taking in the plug-in and download stations, the mostly-shorted-out holograms lining the walls. Despite how normal everything seems, this whole floor is nothing but a front for Dire’s base of operations downstairs—recruiting and tracking strikers, tattooing marks, and—even though Dire did this unknowingly—the source of my learning how to kill without killing.

“So what’s this place and why are we here?” Auden asks me, looking around like Chord. Except while Chord’s eyes can’t hide his suspicion, Auden’s eyes are filled with questions—and troubled confusion. How can this dingy place play a part in saving him? If Auden was out of place before on the street, his being an outsider to the Grid is even more obvious in here. “This is what you meant when you said underground? Because I’m not so sure this is—”

“For someone who hates this job, you sure can’t stay away for long.”

I turn around at the familiar sound of Dire’s voice. Both relieved and wary at seeing him—but mostly relieved. No better person to help me counter the Board than someone who makes a living doing it.

“I need your help.” It’s all I dare to say to him up here, with customers throughout the store. Too many ears and eyes. And in the far corner of the store, Hestor.

Dire lifts one eyebrow. “Again?” He glances over at Auden. “Who are you?” he barks. Squints as he does a once-over of Auden’s face. “You her brother or something? You look alike.”

I shake my head, trying to answer but unable to, my breath stuck in my throat.

“He’s not her brother,” Chord snaps as he moves to stand behind me.

Dire sends me a look. “Another guest, Grayer? It’s practically a party in here.”

“I know, it’s kind of”—the front door opens, and the gust of incoming wind plays with my hair, puts chills down my spine, reminds me what needs to be done—“hard to explain. But we need to get out of sight for a bit.”

Dire scratches the side of his beard. He knows what I’m asking, and I admit it’s a lot. I had Baer to vouch for me when I first showed up here, and I’ve slowly earned Dire’s trust, but Chord and Auden mean nothing to him. And Auden has Board ties, a potential threat. The enemy is at the door, and I’m the one who showed him the way.

“You have to give me more than that, Grayer,” Dire finally says. He scans the room, turns his back to it so he can’t be heard by anyone other than us. “Does this have anything to do with what you were here for last time?”

My questions about the Roark gun. I nod. “Everything to do with it.”

“Who’s after you?”

Against my will I glance over at Auden before facing Dire again. “The Board.”

“The Board?” Dire’s eyes go flat, like liquid blue ice. “Don’t tell me your last visit had anything to do with them, Grayer. That I helped them by helping
you.
” Quiet disappointment in his voice, and it’s worse than any kind of anger.

I nod, then shake my head. Words failing me,
again.
Whatever skills I have with weapons, I fall far short with those meant for communicating.

“Who on the Board?” he asks.

“Level One. An Operator named Sabian.”

The name has Dire swearing under his breath. “Not smart, Grayer. Not smart.”

“You know him, don’t you?”

Instead of answering, he looks at Chord and Auden again. “You two. What’s the story?”

Chord glares at Dire, says nothing. Not a good decision, and I can tell Dire’s about to lose it.

I grab Chord’s hand, know that Dire can’t miss me doing it. “This is—”

“If you know Sabian, then you probably know my father.”

Auden’s rash words have the effect of grease on a fire. The air turns thick and dangerous, though Auden is oblivious.

“And who is your father?” Dire asks.

Auden looks from me to Dire. Whatever is on my face has him going very still, bracing for Dire’s inevitable bite. “Meyer Parrish. He’s a Level Two Operator.”

Dire blinks and says calmly, “Just a Level Two?”

Auden shrugs. Still guarded.

“Well, your dad was never overly ambitious. If he weren’t already a member of the Board because of his folks, Meyer might have been just as satisfied slumming it out here in Jethro, doing something else.”

“How do you—” I ask Dire, too stunned to stop myself from interrupting. Dire’s about as far removed from the inner workings of the Board as I can imagine.

Dire ignores me. “Your old man aside, how are
you
involved with all this?” Dire asks Auden. “With Sabian? And Grayer?”

“He, uh, hired her as a striker to kill me.”

This time when Dire swears, he doesn’t bother trying to be quiet. When he’s done, he pulls out his cell and taps out a text.

“Who is he texting?” Chord whispers into my ear.

I shake my head, frowning. Who else could Dire want involved with this? “I don’t—”

“Baer,” Dire says. The name from him is nearly a curse, his voice resigned.

“Who?” Auden asks, looking from Dire to Chord to me and back to Dire again.

“Baer,” Dire says again, still tapping away. “He used to work for the Board with your old man. If we’re trying to figure out what Sabian’s up to, having Baer here will help.”

The bizarreness of what’s happening is a storm in my head, and it’s Chord who manages to ask, “How do you know all this? About the Board?”

“Because I used to work there, too.” With that, Dire shoves his cell back into his pocket and motions for us to follow him as he moves past the front counter and disappears down the stairs.

Her back is to us, but I know who she is. The only other person I’ve seen in here, other than Dire.

Innes. Even her posture is elegant as she works at one of Dire’s computer stations, and I still remember the catlike green of her eyes, the way her lips curled as she tattooed the marks on my wrists. She couldn’t quite hide her disapproval over Dire’s choice to accept me as a striker.

Innes turns around at the sound of Dire’s approach, standing up as we fill the room. Her expression cools as she looks from Dire to us. Lingers on me for seconds longer, and I can’t miss the surprise in the lift of her brows, the slight widening of her eyes. Maybe simply surprised to see me back here. Or surprised that I’ve lasted so much longer than she expected.

“Dire,” Innes says to him, a warning tone behind the smooth tones of her voice, “what are you doing?”

He shakes his head. “It’s fine. They’re fine. Having a meeting down here is all.”

“I have work to do.”