Our Lady of the Ice (35 page)

“You and I both know it was Cabrera. It was revenge—”

“Exactly. Cabrera, and his problems with you.”

Marianella stared at him. “What are you saying?”

Alejo leaned back in his chair, his face stony and cold. “You attacked one of his men,” Alejo said. “If we’d tried to make a deal with him straightaway, or if you’d let me just
take care of it
, maybe this wouldn’t have happened.”

Marianella heard the blood rushing in her ears. The room spun.

“Are you blaming me?” she whispered. “You think I wanted this to happen?”

“I’m just saying,” Alejo said, “that by the time the
AFF
took their offer to Cabrera, it was too late. He refused to deal,
because
of you. We have to do these things early. We should have looped him in from the beginning.”

“And that’s why you lied?” she said. “Why you cut me out?”

“You’re a liability, Marianella. I like you, but you’re a fucking liability. There are always going to be people like Cabrera in the world. Independence won’t get rid of them. So I thought it would be better if the ag dome team understands that. And that means
everyone
on the team.”

Marianella blinked, and tears fell down her cheeks. She hated herself for it. Her face burned with humiliation.

“I’m going to ask you to leave,” Alejo said, leaning over his desk. “That press conference, let that be your last hurrah. It’s as good a swan song as any. I just can’t risk you anymore.”

Marianella shook her head. “No,” she said. “No, I won’t. If you kick me out of this, I’ll go public with the truth about your election money. I’ll take it straight to—”

“And I’ll go public about you being a cyborg.”

Marianella froze. It was the first time he had used the word in her presence, and it brought with it a sharp burst of pain, a dizziness, a rush of blood.

“This is what you would call a stalemate,” Alejo said. “We’ve both got our secrets, and we’ll both keep the other’s. No hard feelings.”

Marianella shook. Her anger and frustration boiled close to the surface. And she was crying, silently, tears dropping over her face at odd intervals.

Everything she’d worked for during the last year was gone. It had exploded and then it had frozen, and now it was being dragged away from her.

“I’m sure Ruben would be happy to escort you back to the amusement park if you’re worried about security.”

Marianella’s thoughts were a haze. Ruben was one of the
AFF
bodyguards. Alejo was kicking her out of his office.

Eventually, she moved according to some other, baser principle. She stood up, steadying herself on the edge of the desk.

“How could you do this?” she said.

She curled her fingers around the edge of the desk, tighter and tighter, until the wood splintered. Alejo watched her like he’d expected it.

“We do what we have to.” Alejo’s voice was flat. “That’s what it takes, to get Independence.”

Marianella stumbled out of his office, her tears turning the world to mist.

*  *  *  *

When Marianella returned to the amusement park, she went straight to the operations room. Sofia wasn’t there, but Marianella brought up the robot scans and waded through each one. Marianella’s heart was beating too fast. Her robot parts could barely control it.

Her rage was a core of heat inside her chest, ignited by Alejo Ortiz. It had grown in the taxi ride on the way back to the park. He didn’t want her anymore, not her knowledge, not her skills, not even, apparently, her money. All because she had demanded integrity from him.

The scans finally dinged on Sofia, recognizing her by her faint aura of electronic feedback. She was down by the ice lake. Marianella left the palace immediately.

It was a fifteen-minute walk to the lake. With each step blood pumped more firmly through Marianella’s veins. She was too angry to pray, to even think about God. She only wanted Sofia.

The lake was a sheet of silvery ice, frozen from underneath and glimmering in the slow-falling twilight. It was surrounded by tall, pale white reeds that rattled as Marianella walked through them. They weren’t living things.

Sofia was out on the ice, walking with slow measured steps, her legs and feet bare. She looked up at the reeds’ rattle and then stopped, watching. Marianella reached the edge of the lake. The ice looked ancient, veined with dark cracks. She supposed it would hold her weight. It held Sofia’s.

And what did it matter if it didn’t? She could climb her way out easily. She wouldn’t freeze to death within minutes, the way a human would.

She took a deep breath and stepped out onto the ice.

Sofia still had not moved. Her hair fell loose around her shoulders. Her face was as perfect and as beautiful as a china doll’s. She said nothing until Marianella was at her side.

“I see Cabrera didn’t kill you.”

“Alejo stole the ag dome from me.” Marianella felt dizzy, saying those words out loud.

“What?” Sofia frowned. “I don’t understand. Isn’t that why you left the park in the first place? To go lay claim to your dome?”

“In the press conference he held about the explosion. He denied that I built it. And now he’s going to build new domes, using my designs and my drones.” Marianella smiled ruefully. “After all, he insisted when I built them that my drones recognize his authority as well.”

Sofia stared at her for a long time, not speaking. The cold, still air settled around them. The ice felt like it belonged to something living.

And then Sofia reached over and smoothed down Marianella’s hair. She cupped her hand around the curve of Marianella’s neck. Her touch was cold, but Marianella didn’t care. It was perfect.

“That’s what humans do,” Sofia said. “They use you up.”

Marianella closed her eyes. She thought about what her life had been like before the procedure, back when she was still human. There weren’t many memories from that time, and the ones she did have were dull and worn down at the edges. She didn’t know if that was the fault of the procedure, or the fault of her humanity and its inability to hold on to the past.

She opened her eyes. Sofia was still touching her neck, and her fingers had grown warm with the heat of Marianella’s skin.

“You were right,” Marianella said. “I was pretending to be human. And I realize now how stupid that was.”

Sofia didn’t react except to trace a path into the hollow of Marianella’s throat.

“I want to help you,” Marianella said, the words chattering and echoing inside her head. It was so easy to say this, to admit to what she was. She should have done it years ago. “I want to help you take over the city. I want a place where cyborgs can live too.”

The words sang against the air.

“I know,” Sofia said. “And one day, you’ll have it.”

She leaned forward and wrapped Marianella up in her arms.

CHAPTER THIRTY

SOFIA

Sofia lay at Marianella’s side and watched her sleep. It was as dull an activity as she remembered from her days with clients, but she didn’t feel like being alone. Not right now, so soon after Marianella had finally agreed.

She was on Sofia’s side. She was on
their
side, away from the humans. On the side where she needed to be.

It was a beautiful night.

Of course, Sofia wasn’t thinking beautiful thoughts. In the dull evening she was contemplating Ignacio Cabrera. Her programming could no longer betray her, and that meant it was time to dispatch with Cabrera as neatly and quickly as possible.

There was only one way.

Sofia crawled out of bed and paced silently around the room, planning, as Marianella slept. Around four in the morning, Marianella rolled over under her quilt, and her eyes fluttered open. Sofia heard the movement; she was aware of Marianella watching her in the dark.

“Tired of sleeping?” Sofia asked.

Marianella smiled a little. “That’s not exactly how it works, no.”

Sofia shrugged. Marianella stretched underneath the blankets.

“Something woke me up,” she said.

“I was being as quiet as possible.”

“I know. It was something else. A dream.”

“Oh.” Sofia sat down on the edge of the bed and ran one hand through Marianella’s hair. “Dreams can wake you up?”

“Sometimes.”

Silence. For a moment Sofia thought Marianella had fallen back asleep, but then she felt the weight of her gaze again. Her eyes were still open, watching.

Sofia stretched out beside Marianella and kissed her. “I’m glad you’re awake,” she said. “It was dreadfully dull before.”

Marianella laughed. “You didn’t have to stay here.”

“I wanted to.”

Marianella seemed pleased—happy. And that made Sofia happy, in a way that had nothing to do with her programming.

“Are you still serious about joining with me?” Sofia said in a low voice. Marianella didn’t answer right away, and Sofia waited, unmoving, not sure if Marianella would say yes or no.

“Yes,” Marianella said.

Sofia fell onto her back and smiled.

“I’m not as flighty as you think I am,” Marianella said.

“I never thought you were flighty.” Sofia stared up at the ceiling.

“I won’t hurt anyone, though,” Marianella said. Sofia dropped her head to the side to look at Marianella. “No one innocent.”

“And if they’re not innocent?”

Marianella pushed up onto an elbow. Her hair, mussed from sleep, fell over one side of her face. “What does that mean?”

“Cabrera.” Sofia kept her eyes on Marianella’s face. “And his men, the high-ranking ones. The killers.” She paused. “My reprogramming worked. We don’t need the programming key. So he’s of no use to me anymore.”

Marianella collapsed back down. “Alejo said the same thing about me,” she whispered.

“This is different. Cabrera has tried to kill you twice, and he wants me to do it the third time. We’re lucky he hasn’t stormed the park yet. Besides, how much damage to the people of the city have he and his men done? The innocent people?”

Marianella didn’t say anything.

“The only way you’ll ever be safe is if he’s gone completely.”

“I know how Ignacio Cabrera works.” Marianella continued to stare up at the ceiling. “Alejo wanted to do this too, you know. Kill him.” She paused. “Murder him. And I couldn’t stand the thought . . .” Her voice faded away, and she closed her eyes, took a deep breath. “He’s hurt so many people. His men—”

Sofia lay her hand on Marianella’s chest, right over her heart. “They’re the worst kind of humans. I know you see that. And you know this is the only way to keep you safe.”

Marianella didn’t say anything for a long time. Sofia waited with all the patience of a clock. She knew she needed to let Marianella work through the repercussions on her own.

“What exactly do you want me to do?” Marianella said, and her voice trembled.

*  *  *  *

The Florencia looked worn-out during the day, an old gray building rubbed raw by the salt and cold wind from the docks. Marianella and Sofia stood side by side on the sidewalk, staring up at the darkened sign. If Sofia listened closely, she could hear the hammering of Marianella’s heart.

“It’s going to be all right,” she whispered.

Marianella looked at her and didn’t say anything. She looked resolute. Resolute and frightened.

Sofia leaned over and brushed her lips against Marianella’s cheek. Marianella closed her eyes, tilting her head toward the kiss.

“Ten minutes, and it will all be over,” Sofia whispered.

“Ten minutes,” Marianella said, and fear made her voice tremble.

“It’s time.” Sofia pushed her doubts aside. The change in her programming meant she no longer cared what humans thought, but the change seemed to amplify her own emotions, and in certain ways they were wild and unfathomable. In certain ways they were dangerous. But she would not allow them to be dangerous today.

She and Marianella went into the Florencia.

The maître d’ was gone. No music filtered in from the dining
room. Marianella pressed against Sofia. Her breath quickened. All those little remnants of humanity.

Ten minutes,
Sofia thought.

Diego and Sebastian walked in from the dining room. Diego’s face was bruised and darkened, and Sofia noticed the way Marianella turned away from him.

They pulled out their guns when they saw who it was.

“Hello, boys,” Sofia said. “I brought you a present.” She stepped in front of Marianella as she spoke.

“Took you long enough,” Sebastian said. “And he wanted her dead.”

“And she will be.” Sofia smiled. “I thought he might like to watch me kill her in front of him.”

Diego and Sebastian glanced at each other, and Sofia tightened her grip on Marianella’s hand, trying to calm her.

“That’s not usually how he operates,” Sebastian said.

“It’s how I operate. Let me see him.”

There was a long pause. Marianella whimpered beside her.

But then Sebastian nodded, frowning, and he and Diego led them into the dining room.

Cabrera sat at a table in the center of the floor, eating a steak. The meat wasn’t the frozen, reconstituted stuff Marianella and Eliana and Araceli had been eating. It was fresh. Sofia could tell by the smell of it, by the bright red liquid pooling at the bottom of his plate. Sometimes she hated the smell of organic matter.

“Sofia,” he said, setting down his knife and fork. “This wasn’t the arrangement we talked about.”

Sofia let go of Marianella’s arm. Marianella stayed quiet, the way they had agreed.

“I wasn’t happy with that arrangement.”

Cabrera looked up at her, his eyes glittering. And then he laughed. “You weren’t supposed to be happy with that arrangement.”

“What happened at the gala was not my fault.” Sofia slid into the chair across from Cabrera. “I brought you Lady Luna. You can do whatever you want with her. I’ll even kill her in front of you, if you’d like.” She smiled sweetly, even if the words stung like needles. “I’m just asking for some payment in exchange. Nothing major.”

“Payment.” Cabrera shoved his half-eaten steak aside. “Are you so stupid you didn’t realize this was a punishment?”

“You pay your men when they kill for you. Why should I be any different?”

Cabrera looked at her, considering. His eyes flicked over to Marianella. “I bet this comes as a surprise, doesn’t it?” he said. “One of your own bringing you to me?”

Marianella stared at him. Her whole body was shaking. Sofia twisted with sadness. Ten minutes. Ten minutes and this would all be over.

“Fuck you,” Marianella said.

Cabrera laughed. “You think that’s going to save you?”

“No,” Marianella said.

“Smart girl.” He gestured at the table’s empty chairs. “Have a seat, Lady Luna.”

Marianella hesitated. Cabrera slid his steak back in front of him and cut off a piece.

“Go on,” he said.

Marianella sat. She kept her head down, her hands folded.

“Now,” he said. “What payment do you want, Sofia?”

“An icebreaker.”

Cabrera sawed off another hunk of steak. “That’s more than I pay my men. And you didn’t even do what I asked.”

Sofia was ready for this. “I’ve no need for money. The amusement park operates independent from the rest of the city. It doesn’t need to be one of your nicer ones. A converted cruise ship would be fine.”

Cabrera chewed his steak. Sofia glanced around the room, taking in the shadows and the light, looking for secrets. She saw nothing but tables stacked with chairs, a dusty empty stage, and Sebastian, standing by the doors. Sebastian had his gun pointed at Marianella’s head.

“An icebreaker,” Cabrera said. “That doesn’t make this much of a punishment, does it?” He laughed and looked over at Marianella. Sofia felt her stiffen.

“You haven’t gone to the police about what I tried to do to you.”
He slivered off another piece of steak. “You don’t want them to find out your little secret, I imagine.”

Marianella stayed quiet. Sofia wished she could reach over and take her hand, tell her everything was going to be fine.

“I thought about letting you go,” he went on. “What harm can you do to me now? But this one—she needs to remember that I’m her employer. Her
master
.” He looked at Sofia.

She quaked with rage.

“It’s rather quiet in here, don’t you think?” he said. “I’ve never liked the silence. Mateo! Put on some music.”

Sofia lifted her chin and said nothing. The music that came spilling over the speakers was a recent song, what she would once have called a safe song, and Cabrera sawed at his steak as if he expected nothing to happen.

“There,” he said. “Isn’t that better?”

“No,” said Sofia.

“I promised not to play any music from before 1936.” Cabrera peered up at her. “Now. I’m not giving you an icebreaker.” He sliced off a piece of steak. “But I’ll loan you one. The
Snow Queen
is currently docked. We’ll go out there when I’ve finished my lunch; I want to make sure you do as I’ve asked.”

“Thank you,” Sofia said, a phrase that was like speaking with knives.

Marianella squirmed in her seat, her skin shining with sweat.

“The cops have pulled back lately,” Cabrera said, chatting around his food. “Not sure why. I haven’t upped their payments.” His laughter bled in with the soft whine of the music. “Still, it’s been making business easier. And what’s good for me is good for you, isn’t that right, Sofia?”

“Yes.” She didn’t take her eyes off him. She was watching for tells—a change in his heart rate, a quickening of his breath. But so far he was only eating.

“By the way, your last part should be arriving soon. The programming key, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sofia said.

“Weird little thing. Had to buy off a fellow in Colombia for it.”

Sofia didn’t answer. Cabrera was watching her. His fork moved into his mouth. His jaw worked up and down. There were only a few bites left of steak on his plate. That steak was a timer. A countdown.

Fortunately, Sofia had a countdown of her own, ticking away inside her head. The drones were amassing as they waited, responding to the electronic pulses she sent out in waves, unnoticeable to the guards, unnoticeable to Cabrera. That was why she and Marianella had arranged this trade today, at lunchtime, because Sofia knew it was customary for Cabrera to eat a steak alone inside the Florencia.

Two or three bites of steak remained on Cabrera’s plate. Marianella shifted beside Sofia, and Cabrera jerked his head up, glaring at her.

“Careful,” he said. “If you move too much . . .” He nodded at Sebastian. Diego had vanished. “He might get overzealous.”

Marianella glanced at Sebastian, then turned away quickly.

“As for you.” Here Cabrera pointed at Sofia with his fork, a hunk of steak dripping at the end. “We’re going to be certain that you do as I ask.”

“Oh, Ignacio,” Sofia said. “It’ll be so much easier aboard the icebreaker. You won’t have to clean up the mess.”

Cabrera looked at her with his glittering black eyes. He set his fork down.

“I never clean up my own messes,” he said.

The music stopped, midsong. The silence buzzed around them. Sofia tensed. She stared right back at him. She didn’t move.

“Mateo,” Cabrera said.

Music flooded into the room, loud enough that Marianella jolted in her seat and put her hands over her ears—a human gesture, worthless, that she didn’t need to bother with. At first Sofia didn’t recognize the music, but when the singing began, mournful lyrics swelling through the room, she knew she had heard this song before. It was just that she had never
heard
it, not without her programming interfering with her thoughts. It was “
Paciencia
,” the song Cabrera had used on her before to make her pliable.

Sofia broke into a smile. She laughed, the sweet twinkling laugh she’d used on clients all those years ago. Cabrera’s eyes widened.

“Oh, you didn’t really think that would work, did you?” she said.

Cabrera’s knife clattered to the plate. “Impossible,” he whispered.

Sofia just laughed harder. She could feel Marianella in her periphery, watching her, frowning, but Sofia didn’t care.

“You are not my master,” Sofia said.

And with that, the countdown hit zero. Sofia sent out one more electronic pulse, not to the drones but to Marianella, and together they moved like lightning.

Sofia slid forward, across the table to Cabrera. Marianella ducked beneath the table, angling her body sideways.

The emergency hatches in the walls split open, and the maintenance drones poured in.

Gunfire arced across the room, light and smoke and heat.

The music was still playing, and for the first time Sofia could appreciate the beauty in Echagüe’s voice and in his words as the song hung like a tapestry in the background of the restaurant.

She wrapped her hands around Cabrera’s neck. His chair tipped, and they both slammed against the floor, and Sofia squeezed and Cabrera choked and wheezed. She shut out the music, the gunfire, the muffled shouts from the men who had been waiting—she’d
known
it—in the back corridor. She focused only on Cabrera, his neck soft beneath her hands.