The Rule of Luck (16 page)

My stomach twisted into a knot and I felt sick. I shuddered. “I
can't
go back to that life. I'd rather die first.”

“And I would very much prefer it if you stayed alive, regardless of how many other lives get in the way.”

“My life isn't more important than anyone else's.”

“Not true. In my estimation, you are too valuable to lose and I won't waste what you represent.”

“And what do I represent to you? Is it just luck and easy access to my mother, or something more?” I asked, my voice a breathy whisper.

“Stay around long enough and find out.”

I swallowed again and fought the shiver at the promise in those words. “Oksana says you'll be able to find the things they took. I know they can all be replaced—even my Tarot decks, but…but it's me. They're trying to mess with what it means to be me. I'm not just a shell that they can wipe free of memories and fill me with whatever personality they want.”

His expression softened and his hands grew gentle, his touch becoming a caress. “I will get it all back for you.”

“Thank you.” Despite everything, I believed him. Even if I didn't trust him, I knew he would do this for me. The realization that he now held so much of my life in his hands made me shiver again. “You should probably let me go.”

He smiled, but there was nothing gentle in it anymore. He'd felt my shiver, alright. Whatever distance that had sprung up between us since the flight to Denver was now gone. “What if I say no?”

I had no response to that. In that moment, part of me just wanted someone to look after everything and take away the chaos. I knew he could do that, and much more. After the past few days, it would be a blessing not to think, to know I could take what was in front of me without worrying about the rest of the world.

Behind us, Oksana cleared her throat. “Perhaps we should go inside,” she suggested. “Felicia needs to rest. She's refused the zone acclimatization meds and has been running too many hours without sleep. You can continue your discussion once she's refreshed.”

“Take the zone meds,” Petriv advised, pulling back. Apparently the interrogation was over. “Without them, you won't make it through the next two weeks.”

“More traveling?” I asked, fighting back sudden exhaustion. I'd been gearing up for this confrontation and now that it was done, so were the last of my reserves.

“That, and potentially other things,” he said, then let me go. Without his hands on me, I felt adrift. “I'd planned a debriefing for later today to discuss your next task, but I'll reschedule.”

Now I knew fatigue was getting the best of me—Petriv hinted at the next step in his master plan and I hadn't even blinked. In fact, I couldn't even seem to work up the proper fear or worry I knew was required.

“And what's next?” I ventured.

“We're going to Brazil. It's time you met your mother.”

I'm not sure how long I slept. Hours, or maybe minutes. Though the bed was beyond comfortable and I couldn't hear any sound from outside, I couldn't seem to settle. I felt terror mixed with rage and regret every time I closed my eyes. I was angry with Roy, my mother, Petriv, Pennyworth—everyone associated with this mess. I felt stupid and lied to, and not sure who I could trust. I could see the horror on Roy's wife's face every time I closed my eyes. And the jealousy I felt ate at me like some awful, consuming beast. She had the life I was supposed to have.

I gave up on sleep as sunlight crept around the drawn window shades. I sighed and considered my surroundings. The sheets and one of my pillows were on the floor. I must have kicked them off in the night. A quick check of my c-tex bracelet showed it wasn't even seven yet. Having my shop on Night Alley meant I worked most nights and rarely saw anything resembling morning. What did one do with oneself so early in the day?

I got out of bed and threw on a robe over my nightgown. Actually, a blue-green silk negligee was a better description. I wasn't sure why I'd even packed it. Sometimes I could be such an idiot. Still, at least it was mine, which counted for something. Right now, all I owned in the world was stashed in the two suitcases I'd originally brought from home. Did that make me lucky or just foresighted?

“It makes me fucking brilliant,” I muttered as I dragged both to the bed and surveyed their contents. A few outfits, plus toiletries. That wouldn't get me far unless I planned on washing my clothes every other day. I swore in frustration and scrubbed a hand over my face. The thought of TransWorld breaking into my condo, rifling through my belongings, and taking my things left me feeling violated and helpless all over again. I alternated between knowing rationally they were just things that could be replaced and freaking out because I wanted my favorite lounge pants. What was I to my mother and TransWorld? A pawn in their scheme? A science experiment that needed monitoring? Had Roy constantly looked for examples of my supposed “luckiness” and reported back to them?

I took a breath, then two, counted to a hundred, and didn't feel better. I needed to talk this over with…well,
someone
before I lost what remained of my sanity. Besides, I was starving. When had I last eaten?

After a quick shower in a sunken tub with numerous hoses and nozzles I didn't have time for, I slapped myself together with whatever I had on hand. My luggage contained items selected for Denver's colder weather, not the warmer temperatures of Nairobi, so I threw on the coolest outfit I could manage—a cream microfiber skirt and cami with breast-molding enhancements that held everything wonderfully in place. Both were stain-repellant, thank the gods, or the cream would have never stayed cream. They also had temperature controls built in so if I got too hot or cold, they regulated as needed. I put on a pair of sandals, and that was the best I could do.

Opening the shades, I discovered a balcony overlooking the yard. The weather was perfection, the sky without a hint of rain. That would change soon enough when the rainy season hit in a few weeks. I cast a glance up at the sun. Its rays felt like nothing on my skin and I whistled in amazement. A nano-sunshade must have covered the balcony, or I'd already be feeling a slight burn.

From my balcony I could see the entire back of the house. I counted six other balconies in addition to mine. How many guest rooms did Petriv have? In the distance, trees ensured maximum privacy; I couldn't see another house and had no idea how far away one might be. I could hear the drone of a helicon overhead. Was it security, or just more richie-riches heading into the city?

Far to the left was a large swimming pool where someone was swimming laps. I could also see an extensive patio where people were eating. Gods, was this what rich people did in the morning? Ate breakfast at ridiculous hours and swam insane numbers of laps over bodies of water the size of small lakes? Apparently, or at least in Alexei Petriv's world.

I left my bedroom, stepping into the hall. It was long and narrow, marked with lots of closed doors, sedate lighting, and many small tables with vases of fresh flowers. I wondered if those were replaced daily, then decided I needed to concentrate on finding the pool.

I found a promising looking staircase leading down to an open foyer on the main floor. It looked familiar; I was sure I'd used it earlier. Overhead was an enormous chandelier I also recognized. At the bottom of the marble staircase, I turned left on my gut's advice and headed down another hall. I heard voices. I didn't recognize them, but maybe I could ask for directions to the pool, or better yet, the kitchen.

The first door on the left was a living room. Strike that—a hotel lobby given its sheer size, tasteful furniture, high ceiling, and art hanging on the walls. Inside were two men. With them were four chain-breakers, taking up various positions around the room.

“Sorry to interrupt. I was just…” A quick look told me I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The scowls on both men's faces said as much, and I backpedaled with more speed than I normally mustered.

Two chain-breakers caught me in a firm grip and I shrieked. Damn it! I was so sick of being molested by these vat-grown, musclebound apes! I tried to jerk free. No good, but I did get more bruises to add to the ones I'd already collected.

“If you just let me go, I'll be heading to the pool,” I snapped.

One of the men fixed me with a wintery gaze. Older, he looked to be in his late forties, which meant he was clearly
old
. He had dark hair graying at the temples and blue eyes that could cut you to the quick. They weren't as impressive as Petriv's, but I suspected few were. Broad-shouldered, with ramrod straight posture despite sitting in an oversized armchair, he looked like some medieval king of old. Tattoos covered the backs of his hands and his knuckles, but I was too far away to see them clearly.

“So you're Alexei's latest project,” he said, the words reflecting a subtle hint of Russian accent. His tone was not kind.

He turned to the other man, who was even older. That was a shock all on its own. Nearly everyone began One Gov's sponsored Renew treatments the month of their twenty-fifth birthday, with upgrades done annually. Not even Grandmother at eighty-one looked as old as this second man did. His hair was a thick, flowing mane of white that reached his stooping shoulders. Deep lines were etched in his tanned face and milky green eyes regarded me with nothing short of armed hostility.

“This is what he believes will bring us an empire?” continued the younger man, gesturing at me.

“There seems to be a mistake. I just want to know where the pool is.” I tugged again. Maybe I could talk my way out of this. Maybe—

“Bring her here,” he ordered the chain-breakers. “Let's have a closer examination of the savior of Mother Russia.”

With that, I was frog-marched inside. I wasn't getting out of anything.

My gut, I decided as I was forced into a wingback leather chair, meant for me to be there since it had indirectly led me to this room. Maybe I needed to learn about my role in the Tsarist Consortium's little scheme. After all, I couldn't keep wandering around in blithe ignorance, mooning after Petriv and letting him decide my future. Maybe these were the true power players. Or maybe they were just thugs. Time to find out. Behind me, I heard the doors lock. I didn't like the finality of that sound.

“Well, this is pleasant,” I said, offering a glare around the room. “Last time I checked, I was a guest, not a prisoner.”

The younger man laughed. In a way, I was glad Petriv wasn't here. When he was around, somehow the full force of my anger was blunted by my confused lust.

“He would say that to a pretty girl,” he said, looking to the older man. “Sometimes I can't help but wish to be that young again, enjoying the excitement of the chase. He'll get it out of his system in time, I suppose.”

The older man said nothing.

I took a breath, thinking before I spoke. Anger wouldn't get me far, and gods only knew what was really happening here. “I assure you, it isn't my goal to be the most popular girl at the party, and I think you know I'm not here for anyone's entertainment—my own included.” I looked from one man to the other, meeting their eyes and using every skill I'd gained in years of reading both the Tarot and people. “You seem to know who I am, but I can't claim the same. I assume you are Mr. Petriv's associates in the TransWorld bid.”

Both men startled at that. “So Alexei has told you our business? He must be quite taken with your abilities then,” the younger man said.

“If you mean my ability to read the Tarot cards, then yes.” I leaned forward and smiled with a confidence I didn't feel. “Mr. Petriv wants me to ensure the Consortium wins the bid. We have an arrangement beneficial to both of us. If you want to know more, you'll have to ask him. If you don't know the details, I suppose that's because he doesn't want you to.”

The older man fixed me with a steady gaze, his faded green eyes boring into me. “You've no doubt never met anyone as old as I,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice, no trace of Russian in his accent. “To me, you are but a gnat on an elephant's ass. Or rather, a baby wailing fresh from her mother's womb. It is an act of kindness on my part to even suppose you have relevant thoughts. For me to believe you are the key to resolving our past wrongs and reconciling the future of the tri-system is beyond laughable. Alexei believes it to be true so we will work with him so long as good sense allows. My only concern is, given the time and resources we've put into his training, that we reap the rewards of that investment. He will guide the Tsarist Consortium to its rightful place. If you are a tool that will help him succeed, so be it. But you will never be more than that and I am too old to see you as anything other.”

Wow. I narrowed my eyes and returned his stare. “May I ask your name, sir?”

“Konstantin Belikov,” he answered, giving the name such a regal quality, I wondered if I should kiss his ring.

“Mr. Belikov, I appreciate your honesty. It appears we have something of a gap between us, which neither of us is able to properly cross. However, I'd like to assure you I never go back on my word. I have an arrangement with Mr. Petriv and I will see it through to the end, whatever that end might be. By the same token, I'm working on good faith that the Consortium will do the same. And though I may seem like an…ass gnat to you, my life is as worthwhile to me as yours is to you. To you, I'm a child. To me, you're an old man grasping for control that's slipped from your fingers.” I stood up, and eyed them both. My knees shook a little, but I rose smoothly enough. I don't think they caught my falter. “Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm heading to the pool. Again, I'm a guest here, and I was going to rustle up some breakfast.”

I was halfway to the door on my unsteady legs when Belikov called out to me.

“Girl!”

“My name is Felicia Sevigny,” I answered without turning. “You may call me Felicia or Ms. Sevigny, but I don't answer to ‘girl.' ”

“Felicia, then.” The tone sounded exasperated. I turned and found the man half in, half out of his chair. He sat in a huff, the chair groaning under him.

“Yes?” I asked sweetly. “Did you have something to add?”

“I am two years shy of five hundred years old. I remember the world before One Gov crushed it under its heel. Few of us do, but I do. Grigori does.”

“Konstantin!” the other man protested—Grigori apparently. “This is not how we agreed to handle this!”

Belikov waved a dismissive hand. “Clearly she believes what she says. Not even pawns can afford to be alienated.”

Thanks a lot,
my brain screamed. Outwardly, I gave nothing away. “You were born before the Dark Times.”

“That's a pretty way of saying we thought the Earth was finished, but yes, that's correct. Oceans rose. Earthquakes. Anomalies in the planet's tilt. All these things conspired to destroy civilization. Then, One Gov was necessary. No one would have survived without strong central leadership. It was harsh because it was needed, but they were greedy bastards. They took what they could and stole what they couldn't. The Tsarist Consortium was one group of many who suffered under their rule. The Renew treatments were ours, and they took them from us. They said they needed a more robust version of humanity to survive the dangerous conditions throughout the tri-system. We understood, but the time has come to reclaim what is ours.”

“And Mr. Petriv is who you believe can do that,” I said, getting it, though it didn't make me less irritated. “Well, I am the person he believes can crack TransWorld. If you can't accept that, it doesn't speak well for your confidence in him.”

“You misunderstand, Felicia,” Grigori, the younger man, said. He cast a look at Belikov, who nodded. “We are the ones endorsing Alexei. There are many in the Consortium who believe him too young, and that he is bringing too much change, too quickly. The TransWorld bid is where he will make his name among us and begin his true ascent to leadership. We are here to ensure that happens. There is much riding on his success with this project. It will usher in plans for a potential future we would like to make a reality. We also report to the other
vory v zakone
should there be cause for concern. Others would prefer to see him fail.”

“What's
vory v zakone
?” I asked, mangling the Russian.

“It belongs to a time when we were the only law in a land full of corruption. ‘Thieves in Law,' ” Belikov answered. “Despite what you think, we follow a code of honor, though time and history have distorted it. Of course, your thoughts on the matter are irrelevant to me.”

I frowned. “Why are you telling me this?

“Because Alexei is the best hope for we have for unity within the Tsarist Consortium. We will not allow him to be led astray, not by you, or by anyone. Alexei was crafted to be the leader we need. He thinks you are relevant. We do not. We felt you should know where you stand and that we will act if any issues arise,” Grigori finished.

“I see. Well then, now that we've all laid our cards on the table, I'm starving and would like to get some breakfast.”

I had to get the hell out of there before I ran screaming. I headed for the doors, doing my best not to hurry, when they burst open. The lock securing them shattered as if it was nothing. I was far enough away to miss the brunt of the entry, but not so far to avoid coming face-to-face with an enraged, dripping-wet Alexei Petriv. Or rather face-to-chest, since the top of my head didn't clear his shoulders. Well, at least now I knew who'd been in the pool.

Chain-breakers leaped into action, taking up defensive positions around the seated men. Through the open door, I glimpsed a frightened-looking woman in a gray maid's outfit. Her mouth was a frozen
O
of horror while she blessed herself with the sign of the cross.

The room quieted. Everyone looked at everyone else. I took a step away from the barely winded Petriv. Part of it was shock. One of the doors had torn clean off its hinges and lay on the floor. The sheer strength something like that took was mind-boggling. The violence behind it was staggering as well, even if being rescued was nice. The rest of my retreat was so I could admire the partially clad Petriv.

He was still soaking wet, hair slicked back from the pool, and my eyes couldn't help but follow the water as it dripped down his chest to dampen the floor. Tiny black swim trunks left little to my imagination. I suspected there wasn't an extra pound of fat anywhere on his body. His shoulders, arms, chest, abs—all looked sculpted, chiseled, and cut to perfection, as if he'd been carved from marble.

However what held my eyes were the tattoos covering his body. Not head to toe, but an extensive array of old-school blue-black ink was spread over the canvas of his skin. Stars on his shoulders and knees. A crucifix in the center of his chest. A serpent, or perhaps a dragon, coiled around his waist and down his left leg. A small Madonna and child over his heart. A spider near his right collarbone. I blinked, but couldn't see more as he stalked nearer, his hands on my shoulders giving me a little shake to break my stare.

“Did they hurt you?” he asked, blue eyes darting over me. His hands were still wet, but the water trickling down my skin was warm.

“No. I'm fine.” I pulled my gaze away from the star on his left shoulder. Eight points. In the Tarot, it meant power. “I was looking for breakfast when I met your…associates. We talked.”

“About?” His voice dipped dangerously low, making me glad the anger wasn't focused my way.

“They had some questions, but I think we've come to an understanding.”

“She's right, Alexei. There's no need for such dramatics,” Belikov said from where he remained seated behind me. “We are done and satisfied with her answers.”

Petriv gazed over my head at the men. His face was calm, but his grip on my shoulders told a different story. “I told you not to interfere. I have things well in hand.”

“So well you were almost killed in an explosion two days ago,” Grigori chided like a scolding parent.

“The situation was contained. There was no need for your ridiculous recall.”

Was that why he'd left me in Denver—not because of anything I'd said or done but because they'd thought the situation was too dangerous? Obviously there were things going on I didn't completely understand, but I hadn't been
that
blind, had I? It seemed Petriv didn't have as much control over the situation as I'd first imagined. I thawed a little at that. I couldn't hold on to my earlier anger if his leaving me in Denver wasn't entirely his fault.

“But it was a situation nonetheless. You are gambling with the balance of power in the Consortium. You were not groomed for this position to put everything at risk.”

“Without risk, nothing changes. Isn't that what you always say, Konstantin? Isn't that why I'm here?” Petriv challenged. He let go of me and I fought not to rub the circulation back into my arms. “The Consortium wants the Earth-Mars transit link. As I've explained before, Ms. Sevigny is vital to our success.”

“Yes, but we've yet to see results,” Grigori continued. “All we have is a girl to whom you've developed an unhealthy attachment, if the evidence we just witnessed is any indication.”

“We're leaving for Curitiba this afternoon. You will see the expected results,” came the reply, offered with all the confidence in the world.

We were? But we'd just gotten back from Denver! He'd mentioned Brazil but I never imagined we'd go so soon. I looked up at Petriv, wanting answers but not sure if we were supposed to present a united front against the old guard. Or was I merely Petriv's puppet? Did I have any say in what happened next or what route my life took? Go to Curitiba this afternoon? Sure. What next? Destroy my mother? Absolutely.

Belikov rubbed his hands together with glee as if he were some cartoon villain from an Old World melodrama, about to tie the heroine to the railway tracks. “Perfect. With you there in TransWorld's nest of snakes, I look forward to seeing the ripple in the CN-net. However, I advise you not to let what happened at the space elevator reoccur. Contract Pennyworth. He's reliable in a pinch.”

“I think you'll be pleased with what I have in mind. I plan to remove TransWorld entirely from the field.”

“
Zamechatel'nyy.
That is wonderful news.
Udacha
, though I suppose saying good luck is redundant.” Belikov laughed at his own terrible joke. “I look forward to the end results.”

I fought not to roll my eyes before stepping around Petriv to leave the whole sordid scene behind me. We'd been dismissed, or at least I had. Funny how I no longer cared about breakfast.

Not sure what to do with myself, I passed the maid still covering her mouth and decided to continue in my original direction. I'd gone a handful of steps, my sandals clicking on the floor tiles, when I heard a smattering of Russian and footsteps, and a hand reached out to stop me.

I whirled. Petriv, naturally. We were alone in the hall, the maid having disappeared.

“Allow me to escort you. The dining room is this way,” he said, tucking my hand around his arm. It was ludicrous given the situation, but he seemed intent on it.

“I'm not hungry.” I tried, and failed, to tug my hand away. I stopped walking and got better results since it forced him to stop with me.

“You need to eat. You also need to take the zone acclimatization meds if we're leaving this afternoon. You've gone two nights without sleep. You'll make yourself ill.”

It unnerved me that he knew how much sleep I'd gotten. “What if I don't feel like going anywhere?”