Grace Finnegan—or Gracie as she preferred, since it was cuter—was one of the worst sorts of girls to know. A classmate of Adam’s since their earliest years, he’d known her for fourteen out of their almost eighteen years of life. From the start, Adam found her insufferable. She liked irritating people, calling her disruption attitude.
Adam entered the spacious interior of the main hall for his next class, passing a pair of giggling girls from Gracie’s circle. He didn’t know the names of these two, since Gracie replaced members of her crew according to her moods. Already six minutes late for History of Galactic Travel III, he found few other students besides them navigating the polished halls.
Another of Gracie’s females shifted into his way, appearing from an adjacent corridor as he passed. She spilled a contented laugh as she studied a hologram of class listings. Blonde, but not the right blonde. Adam knew her better than Gracie suspected.
“Get out of here, Heilani.” His nose pricked at her cloying scent, remembering it from their brief encounter. “I know what you’re doing.”
The girl, Heilani, clasped her hands behind her back. Her voice followed as Adam turned the corner.
“Don’t know what you mean, starlight.”
Adam reached the class led by Professor Edelig and scanned his fingertips on the door’s control panel. He slipped through the sliding doors once he gained entry, though Professor Edelig addressed him before he’d made it two steps inside.
“Finally, Mr. Pendergast.” Edelig’s bald head tilted back. His sound carried up the rows of seats, amplified by the bot hovering behind him. “You’ve graced us with your presence. What a relief.”
“I’m sorry, Professor.” Adam hurried past the other students staring at him, climbing the stairs two at a time to the highest row. He slid into the first available chair as he heard from the front—
“Leave.”
He froze, turning toward Edelig. “What?”
“This class has hours. You surpassed your five-minute grace. Whatever made you late was more important than your grades.” Edelig remained focused on the projection before him, a star map of humanity’s expedition from Earth with a collage of Ipir’s potential location. “Ten-point penalty to your marks. I hope your work can hold that weight.”
A dryness sank in Adam’s mouth. His grades, though positive, didn’t need the burden. “Ten? Are you serious?”
“Yes, I’m serious—and I know who you are. Save the reminder. Your name grants you no privileges here.” Edelig waved a dismissive hand. “You’re expected to meet the same standards as the rest of these mere mortals. Every one of them managed to log in at the correct hour. Show yourself out. You’re dismissed. Don’t make me find an escort.”
Sparse laughter broke from the observing students. Adam glanced at the rows of faces, most of their forms in the senior red with a few advanced third-years in blue interspersed. Several stared back while others looked away. Adam straightened, his pride sparked, and cursed.
Fucking Edelig.
Seconds later, he swallowed his emotion, presenting the control he worked hard to maintain. “Yes, sir. Sorry for the lateness. There’s no valid excuse.”
“Didn’t think so.”
“No. It’s my fault. Sorry for disturbing the lesson.”
Adam descended the stairs, keeping his attention on the exit. As he neared the door and reached for the panel, Edelig coughed.
“It’s our last session before Harvest, and a tough time for many.” Edelig peered at Adam over his shoulder. “Mr. Pendergast, I’ll consider your lateness a seasonal distraction. Your records prove tardiness isn’t your issue. Complete the semester without another lateness—not a single minute past grace—and I’ll void the penalty.”
Adam processed the words as he scanned the dozens of eyes watching him.
“Thank you, sir. I won’t be late again.”
“I believe you.” Edelig turned back to his display, and the bot zipped to a new position. “Ten points is severe this close to graduation. You’d have to work harder to score average marks. I know that tarnishes your status.”
Adam nodded. “You’re right. My goals are clear. I appreciate your generosity.”
“Good day, Adam.”
Adam returned to the halls, flicking through his COM messages while irritation needled his nerves. He thought of Edelig’s penalty, and the redheaded reason for his lateness. With Edelig’s expulsion, he found himself free for the rest of the day. He loosened his tie as he linked to one of his two best mates, Ivan Rodinsky.
“Hey, shithead,” he muttered to the answering note, clearing his throat before starting his message. The sound of swishing fabric made him stop talking.
A light laugh tittered as the correct blonde appeared. Gracie Finnegan wore a senior school uniform, though she had nothing scheduled for that week or the next. Adam noted the other girls present and groaned. Gracie charged forward to block his escape, flashing a coy smile.
“Hey.”
“Fuck off,” he retorted.
She held up a finger, humor dancing. “Not yet.”
“Goddamn, Grace.” He waved his arm toward the watching girls. “I don’t have patience for any of you today. You’re always haunting me.”
Gracie’s eyes widened, their stormy gray-green color glistening with mischief. She touched her chest with a gasp. “Wow. So angry, babe. None of us made you late for Edel-dick’s class. Get that straight.” She jerked her thumb behind her at the others. “The girls told me you were strolling the paths with that one this morning. Chatted with her on campus, too. What a bad look. She’s like, retarded or something.”
“Oh, God. So it was you guys in the lot. You’ve got nothing better to do.” Adam snorted. “Please, get lost.”
“Just looking out for your reputation.”
Displeasure tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You’re a demon, and deserve expulsion for what you did. Huge mistake to show your face.”
“Ouch. Expulsion. I’m a demon, you said. Little ol’ me?” Gracie pouted, rubbing away fake tears. “Harsh. You’ve got a sting on you today. Someone should kiss your boo-boo to make it better.” She tossed her mane of golden curls. “Call me what you want, but while you’re at it—tell me what you’re doing for Harvest.”
Adam’s scowl deepened. “I’ll be wherever you’re not.”
“Funny. But I know your real answer.” She adjusted her cleavage in her school blouse. “You’ll go study in a library like a boring sack of shit until I force you to have a life. The ultimate party’s happening on Eve, and every senior’s going. Word will reach the rest of the sector by tomorrow. I expect you’ll want to be there, too.”
“Party?” Despite Adam’s intent on leaving, he perked at the mention of a Harvest party. Like he’d told Talitha, he hadn’t heard of anything happening on one of the most important Eves of the past thousand years. “Something new?”
“Music. A show. Blood Fang’s playing. Those native fucks hit the top of the charts.”
“Blood Fang.” Adam wracked his memory for the band’s name, making a connection to the sun-drenched wildlands. He frowned as more associations arose, negative ones. “You mean that weird native group that performs with fangs and blood, chanting and thumping dark shit. Night-electro.”
“Exactly.” Gracie nodded with a dimpled smile. “Thumping shit. Night-electro. Dumb savage crap with a dumb savage dance, like you’re stomping the ground for vermin.” She twisted her body, shuffling through the steps of Blood Fang’s dance. “Ooh-ah, ooh-ah, blah-blah-blah. The sequence is nova. Even I’d say it’s catchy.”
Headlines about the band joined Adam’s memories of clips displaying their blood-spattered performances. “Aren’t they banned? Read something a while ago about the band leader biting someone for real.”
“That was last year. Not this year.” Gracie’s shoes tapped against the tile floor as she approached Adam. “These bloodsucking shits are all the same, not one of them worth a damn. Don’t know why we work with them.”
“Grace, if Blood Fang was playing on Eve, it’d be on every news feed. People would protest.” He chuckled. “Someone’s fucking with you.”
“You’re right any other day, but this is happening, and you’re invited. You’re welcome.” She reached inside the bosom of her uniform, removing a black polymer card from her blouse. She extended the item to Adam. “That’s your ticket.”
Adam studied the card, but didn’t take it. “Where’s the show?”
“Westmont.”
“Westmont? That place is dead.” His face screwed with distaste as Gracie’s notice got worse with each revelation. Westmont—the last location he’d suspect for a party. “So much happened there during the Time, and the history’s so dark. It’s still shut down. This can’t be legal.”
“It’s not” Gracie tapped him with the card. “It’s an underground kind of deal.”
“Underground. You mean criminal.” Adam shoved away her offer. “Not interested.”
“Once in a lifetime, Pen. Nothing else like it.”
“Getting caught there can destroy my lifetime.” He scoffed, turning back toward the automatic doors that led to the campus courtyard. “This is the dumbest idea I’ve heard today, and I thought I had my fill. You win.”
Gracie tapped her cheek with the ticket as he stepped away.
“Go on. News of this broke an hour ago. You’ll be grateful for the scoop.” The polymer card went back into her loosened uniform, and she raised her chin. “Anyone who’s anyone will be there.”
“Don’t care.”
Her taunting voice followed him as he turned his back. “I’ll hold on to your invite, love.”
“Fuck off.”
Getting to the top chair—becoming Union General like his father—was Adam’s top priority for the past fifteen years. Winning the seat would never happen if he went down the wrong path. The wrong path included an invitation to an illegal party by a pushy blonde.
10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWa4nXl7twg
☼ ☼ ☼
10Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡijZO90BjFc
Talitha followed Spencer out of Cloverland’s rest hall to the path leading into the academy’s sprawling garden. They stopped on one of the looping paths and halted in the shadows, secluding themselves from the din. Spencer faced Talitha with a steeled expression. Their interactions that day were the closest they’d been since the split.
“You’re trying to prove a point.” Beads of sweat formed on Spencer’s brow, glinting under the patchwork sunlight beaming through the trees. “Agreeing to party in Westmont of all places. That’s not like you.”
Talitha feigned a smile. “I’m not proving anything. It’s my life. I want to go. The party’s controversial, but that’s part of the fun. Right?”
“It’s more than a scandal. It’s dangerous.”
“Please. If we were together, we’d be planning how to get there.”
“Not the same this time. You’ll regret going.”
Talitha waved a flippant hand. Tired words. He’d said that already.
“Right, it’s bad for me, but you’ll still go with your gang to deal.”
“I have to pay back what I owe. There’s no choice for me. I’m stuck.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Firestorm’s the reason I got the flat I’m living in now—and where I wanted you to live with me. I owe all my success to the gang.”
“Congrats, Spence. Get a bigger flat with your next score, one where you can run around with your arms stretched wide.” Talitha extended her arms to illustrate, her expression tight. “Go sell more drugs. You love that more than anything or anyone.” She pointed to herself. “I’ll be out with my friends.”
“I’m warning you—stay away. It’s one stupid party. We’ve been to so many. You can afford to miss it.” He moved nearer, and Talitha took an instinctive step away. “If you ever loved me the way I still love you—listen. You know when I’m being serious.”
Talitha sensed his desperation again and folded her arms, a note of anger rising at her weakness. Eleven years together, with a bond since childhood. Unseen glue made it impossible to turn away. Not entirely. Not in three short weeks. Not after all they’d shared.
“Go on. Talk. If there’s a problem with the show, I deserve to know. So does everyone else.” She rested a hand on her hip, huffing a short breath. “Don’t say shit half-finished and expect me to trust you. I don’t trust you anymore.”
Spencer’s expression softened at that. He absorbed her aggression. “I’m sorry.”
“Say what you have to say.”
“I can’t.” His mouth opened like he’d speak, but he pursed his lips tight instead. “I want to tell you, but I can’t. Makes me sick to think of spilling.” He spoke in a deliberate tempo and bowed his head. Talitha felt a sharp sting in her heart as she assessed him—thinner than before, gaunt shadows hollowing his cheeks and his eyes. “I’ve never felt like this. It’s physical. Something’s off.”
“You’re strung out,” she replied. “You fucked yourself up on your own supply, like usual.” She remained stone as she turned away. “I asked you to give me space. You’re not.”
Spencer touched her arm, and she jerked back like the contact burned. She hissed, her eyes already damp.
“Don’t touch me. Ever.”
“You’re angry. You deserve to be.”
“I won’t forgive you.” Her voice wavered.
“I know.” Spencer rubbed his head. “I did something wrong to you.”
“You hurt me.”
Talitha faltered at her words. She touched the back of her neck where he’d dragged her around his flat in a rage. He’d ranted that she, Adam, and all of Union were plotting against him, and she cowered in his bathroom to hide until he’d stormed out of the flat. Afterward, she charged home to Altir without her bags. When he returned her items days later, he explained that he’d overdosed on something new. No—she didn’t care. As soon as he stopped talking, she ended their long relationship.
“I thought I was going to die.” Her lids sank at the memory. “I have nightmares of you charging at me. You were an animal. I don’t know you anymore.”
Spencer drooped as he listened. “I don’t remember everything that went on, but I felt my hands on you. You hid from me that night, and still flinch around me.” His tone dampened to a monotone. “I’m lucky you didn’t call CDPD.”
“I don’t feel lucky.”
“Right.” The rings around his eyes, discolored purple, made it look like he hadn’t slept in a while. Talitha wondered if he suffered the same nightmares. “Ivan laughed when I took a vial of that new stuff. I thought I was a pro.”
Talitha cooled. “Too bad. You went too far. Can’t undo what’s been done.”
“If you told me how to fix this, I’d do it.”
She shrugged. “I accepted that night happened because of Dot. Doesn’t change the fact that we’ve had issues since you joined Firestorm. You’re not the guy I remember—the boy I loved.” Her breath caught over the word, love, and she allowed herself a second to regroup. “I’ll never see you the same.”
“I made a mistake. Whenever I look at you, I remember what I lost.” Spencer dropped his voice low. “We’ve been through hell since our earliest days. You and I, together. These society types will never understand the bond we have.”
A note of defiance rose in Talitha at the dismissal of Altir, though she’d said similar herself. “The Pendergasts care. They’re the reason I’m here. The reason you were accepted to Asylum. Their work doesn’t stop at human borders. Did you enjoy living in the slums?” A shiver passed through her as she recalled the zone he’d been shuttled into after quarantine, a dangerous area where he’d joined his gang. “You drifted through crazy places before you made any money. I always worried about you while I was here in Altir.”
“I don’t need Asylum anymore. I wouldn’t join society if the Pendergasts paid me, either. They’re the types that’ll yank their help back the minute we stop being useful for a campaign.” Spencer focused on Talitha. “I’m making more with Firestorm than I ever could in Union. That’s for our life together after you finish school.” He reached for her hand, and to her own surprise, she didn’t swat him away. “I used to make you smile. You’ve got such a pretty one.”
She separated from his touch, but not with anger. “I won’t pretend we’re okay. That’s not what we agreed to talk about.”
“I know. It’s part of the honesty I owe you. What you deserve.” The strained look returned to his face. He exhaled with frustration. “If I could say more, I would. I’m trying to but I’m…blocked.”
“Oh, fuck off. You’re blocked from telling the truth.” Talitha snorted. “There’s nothing wrong with the party.”
“It’s an awful idea. Please don’t go.”
“Enough.” She wrapped her arms over herself. “Don’t do this. We’re over.”
“I hear you, but I’ll still prove I’m here about your safety and nothing else.” He raised his hands in resignation. “I’ll make sure nothing happens to you, and also deal with Gracie. No strings attached. I don’t like that she’s stressed you out behind my back, even while we were together. Everyone knows how important you are to me.”
A forlorn weight hung over his face; a twinge of guilt struck Talitha as memories of their past resurfaced. Somewhere behind Spencer’s drug dealer mask was the boy who’d visited her faithfully during solitary confinement. The world was afraid of her, but not him. Never him. He was part of her and she was part of him, always. He gazed at her but kept his distance.
“Don’t get involved.” Talitha broke the silence after a moment. “That confuses things. Worry about yourself.”
“It’s what I want to do. It’ll happen anyway.” He nudged his head toward the campus. “When Gracie buys, I’ll tell her to fix her attitude and that’ll end it. She won’t touch you, because I’ll make sure she knows I mean it.”
Talitha sighed. “Don’t.”
“You’ll see. It’ll work.” He moved close again, and Talitha turned her head when he pecked her cheek. “Let’s be friends. It’s a shame to lose everything we built. We know each other so well.”
Talitha’s arms remained cocooned around herself, though she slackened. Somewhat. “It’s over, but we can share space. This is the last time we’ll be alone together, though.”
“Got it.”
“All right.” She studied his earnest gaze. “We can be friends.”
ns216.73.216.82da2
