Black and White (42 page)

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Authors: Jackie Kessler

BOOK: Black and White
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Glaring at the sunrise, Jet clenched her fist. An inky stain spread over her fingers. “How do I make this right?”

“You graduate tomorrow. You’ve already interviewed with the Squadron recruiter, so all that’s left is the waiting. Once you get assigned, your first duty will be to this city—your sponsor as well as your protectorate. You’ll do what you’re told. You’ll save lives. You’ll keep Corp happy, and will be the perfect Academy graduate. And when Iridium shows up, you’ll strike.”

“You’re so sure she’s going rabid,” Jet said, nostrils flaring. “She could just go rogue, be a vigilante.”

“And is that any better?”

Although her heart screamed yes, that made all the difference in the world, she said what the Academy had taught her: “No. Not at all.”

Iridium whispered,
You proved that you’re a lapdog who parrots the party line no matter what.

She thinks I sold her out.
Jet bared her teeth in a silent scream.
She really thought all I cared about was getting press. It never occurred to her that I’d helped her.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jet said—maybe to Iridium, maybe to Night. “She’s shown her true colors.”

You’ll never, ever be able to grow a backbone and think for yourself.

And that’s where you’re wrong
, Jet vowed. “I’ll do what I have to do.”

“You’ll find her, Jet.”

She stared out into the dawn, the light and color playing in the sky as if in tribute to Iridium. “I will. A hero never quits.”

A hero whose entire time at the Academy was spent by having everyone protect her from the things that went bump in the night. From the boogeyman in the shadows. From the voices.

From life.

She thought of Iri, that day long ago, telling Jet to stand up to Dawnlighter, and that if anyone gave Jet any shit, Iri would punch their faces in.

Jet took a deep breath, felt it fill her, cleanse her. She exhaled, shedding her worries, her fears. Her doubts.

She was done needing protection.

“However long it takes, I promise, I’ll bring Iridium back home.” Her eyes teared as she stared into the sun and refused to look away. “And justice will be served.”

Night put his gauntleted hand on her shoulder. “It will, little Shadow. This I promise you. There will be a day of reckoning. And then, the Light will fall before the Shadow.”

His words made her tremble with anticipation, and for the first time in days, Jet allowed herself to smile.

The sun rose, and a new era had begun.

CHAPTER 59
JET

Do extrahumans have a choice in their role? Is it destiny? A calling? Or something else, something that drives them to put aside personal gain and dedicate their lives to helping others?

Lynda Kidder, “Origins: Part One,”
New Chicago Tribune,
March 26, 2112

W
hen Jet woke up, she was on the floor, on her side, with her arms pinned behind her. It took her a moment to realize she was awake; her thoughts felt sluggish, almost soupy, and she had to blink a few times before she could focus. That didn’t help much; all she saw was a gray wall, very close to her face.

Floor
, she thought dimly.
Why am I on the floor?

“About time,” someone said, the voice disembodied. Floating. But not one of her Shadow voices; this one she heard with her ears. “Thought you were going to sleep through all the waiting.”

Jet blinked again, connected the rasping voice to a name. “Iridium?”

“Yeah.”

She sat up quickly, steeling herself to fight—and then collapsed back down with a groan, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the world from spinning.

“Forgot to tell you,” Iridium said. “Stun-cuffs. You want to move slow, or you’ll puke all over yourself. Stink up the place in a big way.”

“Go ahead,” Jet grated between clenched teeth. “Gloat.”

“Who, me? Sort of the pot calling the kettle black, don’t you think?”

“What are you talking about?”

She heard soft laughter—a bitter sound, completely without mirth. “I’m just as much the trussed-up turkey as you are, Joannie.”

Jet sat up again, much slower this time, and was relieved when she was able to hold her head up without feeling like her guts would spill out of her mouth. The wall in front of her was barren, just a long slab of gray, or maybe steel. Hard to tell in the poor lighting. She inched her way around, turning slowly until she could see the rest of the small room—a cell, really, with one door and no windows. There was just enough room for her … and Iridium.

Jet stared coldly at the woman across from her. And then blinked. Iri looked terrible. Sure, her posture was all arrogance: seated on the floor, she slouched against the wall like a resentful teenager. But her face told a different story. A nasty bruise, swollen to an impressive egg, discolored Iri’s forehead. Her eyes, usually so sharp and almost icy blue, were out of focus, watery. Framing her ashen face, Iri’s black hair stuck to her brow and cheeks in tangled clumps.

And yes, her arms were bound behind her back. Jet was able to make out the silver-and-electric gleam of the stun-cuffs.

“Yeah, I know,” Iridium said, smiling thinly. “But you should see the other guy.”

“He look worse than you?”

“He will when I’m done with him.”

It was a good act. Jet almost believed her—that she really had been captured and thrown in here with Jet. But this was Iridium. She lied. She cheated. She hit you when you were down. Jet was too exhausted, mentally and physically, to play the game. At least there was some light in the small room; without her goggles or her comlink, the way she was feeling would have made her a punching bag for the Shadow voices.

Small favors. “What do you want, Iridium?”

“Want?” Iridium barked out a harsh laugh. “I want to get the fuck out of here and wrap my hands around Taser’s neck. Christo, you think I’m junked enough to slap a pair of working cuffs onto myself, just to play you?” She shook her head. “I’m trapped here, just like you are.”

Impossible
, part of Jet’s mind declared.
Iridium is a rabid. You can’t believe anything she says.

But that was only a small part of her mind, the part that parroted the Academy Mission Statement and insisted on duty before all else. Duty first. Always. The part that made her smile when she thought of all the good she was doing, of all the people she was helping. Of how wonderful it was to be a hero and have Corp behind her and beside her.

The rest of Jet’s mind—the memory of the girl she’d used to be, the part that feared the dark because she knew it had teeth, that longed for the happily-ever-afters in her romance novels and that thought, sometimes, she didn’t know who she was anymore—whispered that Iri was telling the truth.

Uneasy, Jet said, “Yeah, I just bet. Your man’s the one who tagged me.”

“We seem to have had a parting of company,” Iridium said, “considering he’s the one who flipped on me. Used my own damn neural inhibitor on me, the bastard.”

“Those are illegal.”

“Yeah, I’m learning the error of my ways. Crime doesn’t pay. Blah, blah.” Iridium paused. In the dim light, she looked tired, her face drawn and pale. “My own damn fault. It’s what I get for trusting anyone again.”

That stung. Jet said, “I trusted you too.”

Iridium’s mouth pulled into an ugly smirk. “You’d a hell of a way of showing it. How long did it take you to decide to sell me out to Corp?”

Just hearing that name set off warning bells in Jet’s mind. “You can’t possibly understand.”

“Understand what? That you traded our friendship for herodom?”

“Iri—”

“No.
Only my friends call me that. You don’t get to do that anymore.”

“Fine. Iridium. You don’t understand what happened back then.”

“Right, so says the high-and-mighty Jet, Lady of Shadows, the Hero of New Chicago.” Iridium snorted her derision. “You’re so fucking pretentious, acting like you didn’t stab me in the back five years ago.”

“And you’re so damn self-centered,” Jet said, shaking her head, feeling anger and sadness warring in her heart.

Iridium rolled her eyes. “Coming from you, that’s really something.”

“Damn it, Iri, I
helped
you!”

“You got my ass sentenced to Blackbird! How’s that defined as help, even in the loosest sense of the word?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jet growled, remembering how she’d begged Night, pleaded with him to interfere on that fateful day, and how he’d stood there and scorned her.

“Don’t I?” Iridium sneered. “You were supposed to have my back, Joan! We were partners. Fuck that—we were
friends.
Remember that? How many times did I stand up for
you at Academy? How much trouble did I get into, all because I had to take care of you?”

“I never asked you to take care of me!”

“But you walked away from our friendship, all because of the Academy and Corp!”

“I did what I did
because
we were friends,” Jet shouted, “because someone had to intervene on your behalf. And damn it all to Darkness, Callie, it was the best I could do! It was still better than what they wanted to do to you!”

Iridium’s mouth opened, a retort on her tongue, but then she seemed to really hear Jet’s words, and she paused. “You’re the one who got me sentenced to Blackbird,” she said.

“Yes.”

“And you’re sitting here now, telling me that was helping me?”

Jet sighed. “Yes.”

“And I’m supposed to believe that?”

“Frankly, I don’t care if you believe it or not. It’s true.” Jet lowered her voice, said, “And when you escaped, they made my life a living nightmare. They never let me forget that you were my fault.”

“Aw, poor little hero. That’s what they were holding over you all this time? A little fubar like that was enough to keep you leashed and barking when they said ‘dog’?”

“No.” Jet closed her eyes. “What’s done is done, Callie.”

“Yeah, right. Done, my ass. You can’t wait to bust out of here and drag me to the EC. Crow to the media about how you’d finally corrected your mistake from five years ago!”

“A week ago,” Jet said softly, “you would have been right. Even earlier today, you would have been right.”

Maybe Iridium heard something in her voice, because she stopped hurling accusations at Jet, barbs that cut into her and bled her soul.

Light, how long have I been their puppet?

“Jet?”

“They got into my mind,” she whispered. “They did something to me, and—oh Light, they did something to my mind. I can’t even say their name without thinking happy thoughts, and even as I’m saying this, I still want to serve them and be the hero and get a pat on the head!” She was shouting by then, but she couldn’t stop, couldn’t hold back her rage. “They brainwashed me so completely that I can’t even say their name when I want to curse them all to Darkness!”

Her words echoed in the still air, and she panted, trying to regain some semblance of control.

Iridium broke the silence. “What happened, Jet?”

Not daring to open her eyes, Jet told her about Night putting her on the hunt for Lynda Kidder—about Frostbite’s hostile help, about Martin Moore and what he and Everyman had done to the reporter. About how she was instructed to back up the claim that the Undergoths, with Iri’s help, had tortured and murdered Kidder. About her last call with Night. About Everyman having an agreement with—

Her brain caught fire.

Jet doubled over, almost bit through her lip to keep from screaming as searing pain stole her thoughts.

Slowly, the agony faded, leaving behind a steady ache in her temples. Jet opened her eyes, blinked back tears. She was curled up on her side, and her throat hurt.

“Joannie?” Iri’s voice, soft and surprisingly tender. “Can you hear me?”

“Yeah.” She swallowed, winced from the rawness. She must have screamed after all.

“I think I know how they did it.”

Jet whipped her head around to stare at Iri, then almost vomited from the motion. Damned stun-cuffs. She ground out, “How?”

“Your comlink.”

Jet’s throat tightened, and she sucked in a labored
breath. When she’d had the first … episode … in her apartment, hadn’t she wanted to shove the earpiece into place? Hadn’t she had a wild urge to tuck the comlink into her ear and tap it on?

“Before I took down Ops,” Iridium said, “I saw hundreds of frequencies broadcasting. Not receiving. Not connected to the main network.”

Jet blinked at Iridium, not wanting to understand.

“Don’t you get it?” Iri said. “They
have
been brainwashing you—really brainwashing you—and the Squadron … shit, even the students at Academy. For years. Not counting those of us who never wore the damned earpiece, I guess …”

Iridium kept talking, but Jet didn’t hear her.

“You missed part of the uniform,” Night says that day back in Second Year. “The most important part.”

Oh Light, no.

Something else gleams at the bottom of the plastic wrapping. Jet reaches into the bag and scoops up a metallic earpiece.

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