Veil (89 page)

“Probably?” he smirked.

Unfazed, Suren continued, “—and my mind
immediately jumped to that one thing he did to me. Though I know he
had my permission, it still doesn’t take away the feeling of
betrayal. My mind jumped to that, and it dawned on me. You left it
out. Which meant you had a reason. You already told me that you and
Ken used me somehow, so I figured out what you really meant by
that. Before, I thought you meant you used it to
create
the
solution, but you actually used it
as
the solution. You used
exactly what Jin did to my brain as the way to stop Veil in
everyone else’s brain. It’s a great plan, and we know it will work.
Jin’s method worked on me.”

“This is all lovely, Suren. I’m so delighted.
Tickled, really. If you figured out all that on your teeny little
lonesome, then what the fuck do you want?”

“You know what I want. What’s the trigger?
How and when does Ken’s Clause get released?”

Hunter grinned. He knew he had something
Suren wanted. Not merely something the old bitch wanted but
something she needed. He wanted to hear her ask for it. He wanted
to hear her say what she wanted, what she needed. He knew she
needed to believe Jin’s brainchild wouldn’t turn into the
apocalypse. He knew she needed to believe the Tsay name would be
untarnished after she was gone. The bitch needed to know that when
she died, her reputation would remain intact.

God, what a fucking ego on
her
.

Hunter grinned away and glanced down at his
finger. He realized he was mindlessly tapping on the desk. His eyes
gazed at his finger and he began to make small circles on the
desktop. He could feel the ridges of the wood grain. He casually
gushed out his confession without so much as looking her in the
face and without any semblance of shame or guilt. Quite the
opposite.

“I’m giving her streaming.”

“What?” Suren bolted upright as much as she
physically could.

“Peyton. I’m giving her streaming.”

“It’s not yours to give, Hunter.”

“It’s not yours either,
Suren
.”

His eyes darted up and glared at her. He knew
she recognized that what he just told her wasn’t an answer to her
question about the trigger, so any irritation from his little
confession would be compounded by that fact. Storage and streaming
already crossed the threshold of the brain at the Temple and
neither triggered Ken’s Clause, so those elements couldn’t possibly
be the trigger. He knew Suren was technologically dense but not
that dense. By revealing his plan to give Peyton streaming, he
wasn’t telling her what she really wanted to know. Hunter knew that
was what actually bothered Suren.

“You can’t do it. It’s forbidden, and I won’t
allow it. Ken wouldn’t have wanted it. Ken would've never let you
do that.”

“Well,” he retorted, “Ken’s not here, is he?
And if you think you hold more sway with Congress than I do, you’re
wrong. I’ve got a better argument than you and mine comes with a
huge benefit to the Veil Industry.”

“Hunter, the Trustees have never publicly
opposed each other. Ever.”

“
Suren
, the Trustees aren’t shit
anymore. We’re not shit. We don’t count for a fucking thing. We’re
old mastheads of a world that’s been gone since the day after you
and Ken executed Lundy. We’re irrelevant. They’re waiting for us to
die. We know it. They know it.”

“Still, it’s not what Ken—”

“Don’t!” He pointed at her. “Don’t you
fucking dare play the Ken card with me,
woman
. You lost that
right when you helped deal his death card, because you were too
fucking selfish to see his life mattered more than your revenge
quest. Besides, you lost him when you turned all Black Widow Tsay
on us. He said he didn’t know you any more. You disgusted him. He
told me,” Hunter leaned forward and lowered his voice an octave to
strike harder, “you were no longer Jin’s wife.”

Suren turned her head away from Hunter and
pretended to stare out the window. A tear fell down the cheek that
faced away from Hunter, and although he couldn’t see it, he sensed
it. He imagined it would feel more victorious. He thought maybe if
he kept at her…

“I know you assume that, because you knew him
longer, you must’ve known him better. You think he was your Ken
first, like Jin was your Jin, and so Veil is your Veil. But you
didn’t, and he wasn’t. You can have Veil for all I fucking care.
Ken was mine. We shared our lives for over ten years. We shared a
bed for longer than that. Longer than you knew about. Ken was
mine
. The man would’ve taken my last name
,
except it would’ve turned his into ‘Ken Lee
Kennerly
.
’ So no, Bukkake Suey, you don’t
get to say what Ken wanted or would’ve wanted. What Ken would have
wanted was to be alive. He would’ve wanted to be here with me for
the last twenty-five years. Ken would’ve wanted to be alive and
here with me!”

Hunter banged his fist on the desk three
times and almost produced a tear but fought it off. He wouldn’t
give the bitch that satisfaction.

Suren still pretended to look out the window.
She couldn’t bear to look at Hunter. She knew he was right; she
knew he was justified; she knew none of it would change anything.
She would go home and continue to be the dried up old Widow Tsay,
and he would stay there and continue to be the same bitter, angry
Hunter, who only lived to hate her. It wasn’t as if anyone could’ve
stopped her from hating Lundy. The more she felt hate for Lundy,
the more she felt connected to Jin. Hunter was no different, and
she couldn’t blame him for it. She didn’t have the energy for
blame.

She finally lowered her head. Suren’s eyes
unleashed tears that she held back for so long she forgot why she
ever held them back. She never wanted things to end up the way they
did. That wasn’t how any of it was supposed to turn out. Revenge
turned into regret, which turned into resentment, which turned into
revenge. Suren was done. All she wanted was to be alone with her
Jin, whatever that meant. She would take Jin however she could have
him. That was all she ever wanted. Her Jin. To be Jin’s wife—which
simply meant being
Suren
.

She stood, still unable to face Hunter, and
smoothed her dress with her free hand. The gaunt fingers of her
other were wrapped around the handle of the white cane, which she
used to support over half her weight. As she crept toward the
office door, she decided she couldn’t fight any of it anymore. She
couldn’t fight anything anymore. It was over. It was time to let
go. Not give up … let go. Suren wanted peace.

The sterling silver tip of her cane struck
the hardwood floor as she stepped beyond the massive Persian area
rug. It made sharp, piercing, rhythmic pings with every step she
took toward her grand exit. When she arrived at the door, she
turned her head and looked at Hunter. The stream of tears slowed to
a trickle, which meant she could speak real words—with real meaning
and honest emotion—without tensing up.

“Do what you want Hunter, I’m letting go. I
don’t think it’s right or what Ken would’ve wanted, but do what you
want. Jin would’ve done the same exact thing in your shoes. He
would’ve given up the future of Veil for one more second with me.”
Awestruck, she tilted her head during her next realization and
sighed out her words heavily. As she spoke them to Hunter, she also
admitted them to herself for the first time. “God, Jin would’ve
liked you so much. You love like he loved, and he would’ve been so
happy to witness you loving Ken. And … you would’ve gotten him to
laugh. Jin would’ve felt so close to you, Hunter. Perhaps closer
than he ever felt to Ken.”

She left him with that. No matter what
transpired between the two of them from that moment forward, Suren
felt those would be her last real words to Hunter. She had nothing
left to say, and that last realization said it all. Those words
almost said more than she wanted to admit. She inched through the
office door. When she made it through, she stopped, supported
nearly all her weight with the cane, twisted her body and used her
free hand to shut the door.

“Ah, damnit,” Hunter groaned and slapped the
desk.

If Hunter ever harped on Suren when he and
Ken were alone, although Ken might’ve totally recognized that Suren
was behaving like a bloodthirsty madwoman, he would immediately put
Hunter in his place. Prophet Ken, patron saint of the Rhetoricians,
would chariot to Suren’s defense and proselytize things into
perspective.

“How do you think you’d react if someone put
a bullet in my head?” he preached. “Don’t you think you’d do the
same shit as Suren, if not worse? And—I knew Jin. If someone did
that to Suren. Oh God, if someone had done that to her…”

Ken wasn’t able to make himself finish the
thought. Apparently, Jin would’ve fucking flipped. He would’ve lost
his shit. Hell, look at the time bomb he implanted in Suren’s
brain. Forget Suren-crazy, Jin would’ve gone all Hunter-crazy. And
thus the troubling, troubling epiphany of Suren’s last
realization.

Ken was right. Hunter knew it back then, and
he still knew it. He was right: Suren’s bloodlust madness was a
testament to how truly devoted she could be. After finding Ken (the
first and only man he ever wanted to give his love to) Hunter
understood that kind of devotion. Hunter knew most people assumed
he was cold, insolent, and heartless—well, ok he could be all
those—and that he came across as unstable and unhinged. However,
Hunter liked to think he was merely reserving his true self for
those few deserving people. He was holding himself back. Few were
worthy of his attention and affection, so withholding it from
everyone else meant those few could get more of it.

Hunter loved Ken more than the biggest,
fattest fucking kid loved the biggest, icing-est goddamn cake.
Hunter believed he was only able to love Ken so much because he
denied his love to so many others. He saw no problem with that at
all. Nevertheless, Suren presented a different problem, and Suren
was right: Jin and Hunter were alike—in the way they loved and how
that love would fuel their thirst for revenge should anyone ever
harm the person they loved.

Would Ken have gone as far as giving up what
Hunter was going to give up, so Ken could experience some
artificial Hunter in his mind? Hunter didn’t have to ask himself
the question. The answer was:
ah hell nah
. Suren was right:
Ken wouldn’t have wanted it; Ken wouldn’t have done it. It wasn’t
that Ken didn’t love Hunter as much as Hunter loved Ken
.
It was just not what Ken would’ve done. Even if
somehow it were the right thing to do, it wouldn’t be the noble
thing to do.

Hunter knew all along that was precisely why
Ken served as the vAtoner for Lundy, despite the risk. That was why
it was Ken’s idea in the first place. Regardless of how logical (to
a fault) Ken could be, there was still a contradiction in his
character, which Hunter found inherent in all people. No one,
including Ken, was immune to some intrinsic and internal
personality clash, some duality of character.

No matter how logical Ken was, Hunter knew
Ken was more caring. Consequently, Ken was more intent on doing the
good and noble thing, even if that meant acting completely
illogically. When necessary, Ken could simply use logic to find a
way to justify doing the good and noble thing, even if it weren’t
the right or smart thing. That was Ken, and it was what made him
Ken
.

It was just like Suren: no matter how utterly
prim and proper she was, Hunter knew Suren was more doting and
devoted. Suren would protect and preserve everyone and everything
she loved, even if it meant forgoing her composure and acting
completely bat-shit-crazy. That was Suren, and it was what made her
the
Great Widow Tsay
.

Hunter placed so much blame on Suren for her
role in Ken’s death precisely for that reason: because he was able
to see Suren
for
Suren.

It was Ken’s character that compelled him to
be the vAtoner for Lundy
.
As much as
Hunter wanted to hold Ken fully responsible for the decision, he
couldn’t bring himself to do it. It was who Ken was; it was what
made him Ken; he couldn’t do anything else. Hunter didn’t want to
feel that way, but he selfishly couldn’t stop it. At some point he
stopped
not
wanting to feel that way.

In the beginning, Hunter likened his own
blame of Suren for Ken’s death to how dumb folks tended to blame
the person their lover cheated on them with—rather than blame their
lover. Hunter knew that was what he was doing, but he felt so damn
guilty for his own damn reasons that he ended up drowning in a sea
of not knowing what to do or who to blame.