Mortal Danger

ICE, ICE, BABY

Wedderburn, Mawer & Graf had offices downtown, a glittering glass and steel monstrosity some twenty stories tall. The only hint as to who owned the building came in the form of a bronze plaque beside the front door with the names graven in copperplate lettering; the sign looked much older than the skyscraper, burnished with a patina created by time and the elements. Doubtless Kian wondered why I went out front to look around when we’d come up from the garage elevator, but I wanted to get a better sense of where I was.

Call it recon.

The reception area was banal to the point of seeming ironic—with beige upholstered chairs in the waiting area and abstract art in shades of brown. Even the receptionist seemed to have been hired to go along with the room, as she had ash-blond hair and brown eyes, skin that almost matched the walls. And she was wearing, you guessed it, an ensemble in various hues of brown and beige. She followed us with her gaze as we went past her to the elevator, but she didn’t speak.

“She’s unnerving,” I whispered to Kian.

“Iris has that effect on people. She … discourages walk-in problems.”

“I imagine. It’s weird the way she blends in with the décor.”

“She’d do that no matter what color scheme they chose.” The worst part was, I had no idea if he was kidding, and I didn’t want to ask.

The elevator seemed really, really cold, so I exhaled as a test, and my breath showed in a puff of white smoke. “It’s warmer outside.”

“Technically, we’re not in Massachusetts anymore.”

While I chewed on that, the car zoomed us to the tenth floor, then the doors dinged and opened. “This is my department.”

“Do you have a cubicle with a desk?” I made the joke because I was growing shakier with every step, and I had no idea why. It wasn’t just the cold, but something about this building just … was not right.

From the elevator, I glanced down an interminable white hallway. In fact, the length of that corridor seemed to exceed the diameter of the building, though I wasn’t sure how that was possible. Occasionally, I’d dream about an infinite hallway, interspersed with identical doors. Dream dictionaries said halls meant untapped portions of your psyche and closed doors symbolized missed opportunities. In symbolic combination, this place burgeoned with loss and untapped potential. We passed eight doors, all spaced equidistant, and from behind a couple of them, came the sound of muffled screaming.

“You said you were afraid this place would freak me out,” I said softly. “Good call.”

It felt like we walked for a good five minutes, but when I checked my phone to find out, it had frozen on the time when we entered the building, and no matter what buttons I pushed, it wouldn’t respond. I glanced up at Kian and he mouthed, Later. Okay, now I was genuinely losing my shit. Only a lifetime of training in the school of If You Cry, We Win kept my poker face intact. I clenched one hand into a fist at my sides, nails biting into my palm.

At last we came to a door at the end of the hallway. When I turned, I could no longer see the elevator from here. This one was distinguishable from the others only in that it had a nameplate on it, K. Wedderburn. I had no idea what madness or horror lay beyond, but Kian entered without knocking. If possible, it was even colder in the office, a big room wrapped with windows on two sides, and those were frosted over so I couldn’t see what lay beyond. Some tiny voice inside me whispered that was best.

Wedderburn was even more inhuman than his photo suggested. Oh, he had all the right parts in the correct places, but he radiated a cold that surpassed the chill in the room. His hair was more like hoarfrost and his eyes were pools of black ice. Even his skin looked like it might crack if you touched it. No wonder they need agents like Kian. They can’t travel too easily in the mortal world. I had no idea why I’d chosen that word, but it fit. This wasn’t a human creature, if it ever had been. He was doing something at an odd white metal desk, only it was no compound I’d ever seen before, as it held the opalescent gleam of mother of pearl. While the back framework looked like a computer, Wedderburn had his fingers in the screen, stretching and pulling at the surface so that shimmers of what looked like liquid mercury clung his fingertips.

On noticing our arrival, he flicked his hands, so that the computer-thing let him go and he rose with the sound of someone moving over fresh fallen snow. “Ah. Miss Kramer. You are a fascinating asset.”

“Thank you.” I had no idea if that was the right response, but when Wedderburn’s cheeks crackled in a smile, I guessed it was.

“I hope Kian has been taking good care of you?”

“He’s made it clear that I’m special.” Why, I had no idea, and I wasn’t sure Kian did, either. WM&G seemed to operate on a need-to-know basis.

There were no furnishings, nothing with which to entertain or make another person comfortable. So I stood in the icy air, wishing I dared reach for Kian’s hand. Even though he was supposed to be making me fall madly in love with him, I wasn’t sure how far along we were supposed to be, and I didn’t want extra attention from Wedderburn. Kian always used a particular tone when he mentioned his boss, and now I understood why. A whimper boiled up in my throat, but I choked it down.

“I see that you’re uneasy,” Wedderburn said. “I apologize. But certain necessities preclude a more welcoming environment.”

If it’s warmer, you melt into a puddle of goo? That wouldn’t surprise me at all.

“It’s all right. I’m more interested in hearing what you have to say than in taking tea.”

“Excellent. I appreciate efficiency. Just ask Kian.”

Despite myself, I glanced at Kian, who nodded. His expression was as flat as I’d ever seen it. Even his normally expressive eyes gave nothing away. This is the creature he works for, the one he’s trying to save me from. I wished I could be sure of it, and not fear he was secretly working in tandem to make me do exactly as they wanted.

God, I sound so nuts.

“He said you wanted to meet me,” I murmured.

“Indeed. Come around the desk, my girl.” The proprietary tone sent a shiver down my spine and I moved quickly to avoid one of his long, spidery fingers lighting on my shoulder.

What had looked slightly like a computer from the other side now looked like nothing I’d ever seen before. It seemed to be part creature, part machine, with a square head, for lack of a better word, and a metallic neck that led down to shoulders and arms that seemed to have been fused with the desk, which might also be alive, as far as I knew. The otherness of it was so appalling I had to look away.

“What is it?” I whispered.

“My interface to the Oracle. Through her, I can sort through various alternate futures, shadow threads, and encourage others.”

“Like the Moirae.”

“Ah, an educated girl. How charming.” But he reacted as if knowledge were a persimmon, unexpectedly tart on his tongue.

“But unlike the Fates, I can only shape or suggest. I cannot cut or create threads.”

If you could, you’d have won your game long before now.

He continued, “A shadow on a mortal fate, however, is often enough to blight it. I believe there are those who have been most unjust to you. It seems unfair that you must slog toward vengeance when a mind like yours should be turned to more important endeavors.”

“What are you proposing?” I asked.

“Let me take care of it for you.”

I thought of the assholes in the Teflon crew and could only imagine what Wedderburn would consider proper retaliation, but I sensed I had to be super careful in how I turned him down. Kian had counseled me to say I needed time to think, but if I didn’t nip this in the bud, it would only get tougher to say no later. “While I appreciate the offer, it would rob me of satisfaction not to orchestrate their downfall personally.”

Wedderburn sighed. “I was afraid you would say that, but … I understand. You will, of course, to permit me to be of service in some other fashion. I want to help you reach your true potential, Edie.”

With him wearing that insane smile, I feared I might be the next scary dictator in what Kian called my optimum timeline. “Thank you.”

“Would you like to see a demonstration?” he asked.

Part of me thought it was a bad idea, but I also couldn’t refuse everything. Wedderburn seemed like the easily offended type and I preferred to get out of his office without being flash frozen. So I forced a smile, the same one I gave to the Teflon crew, and said, “That would be amazing.”

“Come a little closer.”

Kian shifted and pulled in a breath, as if in instinctive protest, but I didn’t dare look at him. It required all of my willpower not to shiver uncontrollably and wrap my arms about myself. In addition to the cold, this strange creature also radiated a primordial dread that made my skin creep, trying to crawl all the way off my muscles and bones in horror that no amount of meds or therapy could fix. The whimper in my throat became a silent scream.

“Of course.”

Wedderburn turned toward the head-monitor-thing and swiveled it so I could see the liquid mercury stuff. Before he reached inside the frame, it was opaque, but at his touch, it shimmered and turned translucent, so each time he stirred icy fingertips, a new pattern rippled, first a star, then a pentacle, and then it turned into a cephalopod with tentacles lashing in all directions. He speared one with a fingertip and it flowered into a murky image, similar to a convenience store surveillance camera’s, only cast in liquid.

Vi.

Like the room around me, my blood iced over. Fear wasn’t a deep enough for the feeling that swamped me, tighter and knottier than sickness. Outwardly, I kept a cool front, apart from my breathing, but I couldn’t do anything about it. My stomach swirled as we spied on her. She was at home, head bent over her schoolbooks. Now and then, she smiled at the candid photo of her and Seth taped to her mirror. I took that shot. The scene was ordinary in every possible way, and it was unspeakably wrong for us to be watching her like this.

Beside me, Wedderburn was silent, a faint smile playing at the edge of his lips. “A shadow here … or here … would change everything,” he said conversationally. “Your friend seems to have a bright future.”

Seems. That’s definitely a threat.

He went on, “It would probably crush her if something happened to her new beau. Ah, first love. I’m not sure she’d recover.”

He stirred the surface again, without pulling or changing anything that I could tell, and now we were watching Seth. He didn’t have a picture of Vi on his wall, which might disappoint her, but she was the wallpaper background on his laptop. I didn’t know if that made it better or worse. Idly Wedderburn flicked the liquid and Seth rubbed his head.

“Very impressive,” I managed to say. If I revealed how much I cared, it would go poorly for my friends. I understood that instinctively. The prick of pain on my palms told me I was dangerously close to breaking through the skin with my fingernails. “But surely there are rules about harming mortals who aren’t part of the game.”

Wedderburn straightened, wearing an inscrutable look. “Are there?”

Oh God. If there weren’t … if he could kill anyone he wanted, anyone who wasn’t a catalyst, then I’d put everyone close to me at risk. You didn’t know. But you can fix this. Somehow. It was so hard to keep my teeth from chattering, but I couldn’t show Wedderburn how rattled I felt. I could easily drop down on the floor and cram my head between my knees while I hyperventilated; only the fact that I needed to help my friends prevented me from melting down completely.

“This has been wonderful,” I choked out, “but I have homework. I look forward to our next meeting, sir.”

“As do I, Miss Kramer.” I noted his reversion to formality, now that the lines had been drawn. I suspected Wedderburn knew that I was not—and never would be—his ally.

Kian didn’t speak until we were outside the building. “Are you all right?”

Silently I shook my head and he wrapped me up in his arms. This might be exactly what was supposed to happen, a good cop, bad cop routine, but I leaned on him anyway. I felt like I might never get warm again, even with the late-summer sun shining down on my head. The shivers didn’t abate for a few minutes, despite his hands moving up and down my back. People walked around us with nervous looks, as if my distress might be contagious.

“I don’t understand. He’s supposed to be the good guy, on my side?”

“Good and evil doesn’t apply here,” Kian said softly. “There are only different agendas. I can’t say I’m fighting for right, I’m just trying to survive. And I realize hearing that doesn’t inspire you to trust me more.”

“I doubt you’d tell me that if it wasn’t true. Because it doesn’t cast you in the best light. So at least I know you’re being honest.”

“Text your parents.” He stepped back but left an arm around my shoulder and he guided me to his car.

“And say what?”

“That you’ll be back by dinner.”

Since I was too freaked to head home anyway, I did as he suggested, then hopped in the car. Kian shut the door behind me and I buckled in. “Where are we going?”

“Someplace we can talk.”

Kian drove out of the city; it was early enough for us not to be caught in rush hour traffic. Half an hour later, we ended up driving along the coast, a swath of land remarkable only for the fact that there was nothing particular here, except the rocky shoreline and the pounding of the sea. Kian pulled off to the side and got out of the Mustang. A path led down from the road.

“What’s special about this place?”

“Something in the stone, it’s like … a blind spot. Neither side can spy on us out here.” He tapped his watch with a satisfied look.

“You won’t get in trouble?”

He shrugged. “I barely got out of my burning house the other night, and since I’m not a ‘fascinating asset,’ the company still hasn’t done anything about it. I don’t much care what they do to me at the moment.”

For a few seconds, I wondered if that was just what he thought I wanted to hear. But if this was a blind spot, he had no reason to lie. Maybe this was just his first chance to tell me how trapped and unhappy he was. On the other hand, it might not be a blind spot at all. He could be playing me perfectly—at Wedderburn’s instruction. I almost wouldn’t blame Kian if that was true; his boss was terrifying.

“You should care,” I said quietly. “You’re important.”

He shot me a warm look, one that quickened my heartbeat a little. But his tone rang with sad finality. “Not to them.”

Following his lead, I sat down on the sand, a few feet from the water. The late-afternoon sun warmed my skin, gradually washing away the freezer-death feeling that had sunk into my bones during the interview with Wedderburn.

“So your boss … what is he?”

“I’m not sure,” Kian answered. “Not human anymore, if he ever was. His name has been on the building for a hundred years, and I’ve dug up a few pictures of him, looking exactly that way for at least that long.”

“Creepy. Does he disappear and then come back younger?”

“No. That’s the odd thing. And he never fakes his own death, either.”

I’d read books about vampires doing that, then pretending to be his or her own grandchild, but a life eternally encased in ice? That was new.

Kian went on, “But he doesn’t go out either. It’s all done through intermediaries, and when you have as much money as he does, nobody asks too many questions.”

“I imagine bad things happen to those who poke around in his affairs.”

“You handled yourself well in there,” he said unexpectedly. “Struck the right balance between wariness and respect.”

I frowned, trickling a palmful of sand between my fingers. “I don’t understand why he offered me payback. Do I hate those assholes? Absolutely. I dream about finally knowing what it’s like, how I felt, but—”

“It was a test,” he cut in.

“Of what?”

“Your character. A lazy person accepts all help, even if he doesn’t need it. An evil one would’ve asked Wedderburn to inflict all manner of horrors on his enemies.”

“Oh.” My breath was shaky when I exhaled. “I can’t say I wasn’t tempted. A dark part of me would love to see them all broken.”

Not just humiliated, but destroyed. That part, I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud.

“After what they did, it’s understandable. But you’d never actually harm them, no matter what fantasies you play with.”

“I wish I didn’t have it in me. But I look at Brittany, who held the camera, and I think, What would it take to break you? Would I have to mess up her face?” I couldn’t believe I was saying that, because it was so ugly, and it made me sick, that I could still be this full of hate. I knew for the sake of my own mental health, I had to let it go.

But I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe saying these awful things to Kian would help. He could be my sounding board, and once I vented it all, I could move on.

“Do you want to hurt her?” he asked.

“No. I mean, I don’t think so. Do I want people to laugh at her? Yeah. I want her to know how feels. But I’m not thinking about carving her up or anything.” I picked up a smooth stone and chucked it toward the ocean. There was no way I could look directly at him and ask this question. “Did you see it? The video they made?”

A pained sound tore from him, and his head dropped into his hands. I could see his fingers tearing at his hair, hard enough that it looked painful. “I was there, Edie. My job was to mark your progress, see you skate ever closer to extremis. I could’ve stopped it. I didn’t.”

Jesus. I almost threw up. It was bad enough that he knew, but this—

“Take me home,” I managed to say. “Right now.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Take. Me. Home.”

Then he grabbed my hand and the world speeded up to rushing insanity, and in a single swirl, we were both in my room. That was the last straw; I stumbled to the wastebasket and barfed up my lunch while Kian held my hair. I wanted to hit him—to hate him—but mostly, I was just sick and ashamed that he’d seen. I mean, I’d known he was watching me, but I didn’t realize how closely. Afterward I curled up in a ball on the floor, too drained to shove him away when he pulled me close.

“I’ve seen so much pain in the last three years, logged it, and done nothing to make it better. I’m so sorry, Edie.”

“If you don’t do your job, what happens?” I asked eventually, head against his chest.

My parents could come in at any time, and I had no explanation ready for who this boy was or why he was holding me on my floor. I didn’t care either; the strangeness of the day had sucked it all out of me.

“A human resource that refuses to perform its function is useless.” He sounded like he was quoting someone, maybe Wedderburn. “So … I’d be terminated.”

“As in killed.” I had little doubt, but it seemed best to be sure. Considering his obvious guilt over failing to intervene, I didn’t imagine he would’ve chosen inaction, if interference didn’t carry an enormous penalty.

“Yeah.” He pulled back, as if that wasn’t a good enough explanation.

“So essentially, you’re apologizing for not dying for me. You hadn’t even talked to me at that point. No offense, Kian, but I’d rather have you here on my side. As long as we’re still breathing, there’s hope, right?” Somehow I managed a lopsided smile.

“Oh God, Edie.” He brushed his lips across my forehead. We both knew why he wasn’t kissing my mouth.

“We’ll be okay,” I whispered.

How I wished I believed that. It felt like I’d fallen down a well rapidly filling with dark water. As I wrapped my arms around Kian’s back, I felt the tremor that ran through him and wondered how long I could hold my breath.