Beneath the Shine, Page 2

  Chapter Seventeen Percy It’s dark in this alley, though thanks to dear old Dad I can see clearly. I meant to get here earlier, but I had to have a leisurely dinner with Auntie, and I had to convince her I’d be with my imaginary girlfriend tonight. She hasn’t made the connection between my nightly forays and the rumors that technocrats are being smuggled out of Washington, and I make sure to distract her every time she gets close. There are no streetlights on in this part of town, which is adjacent to the tightly guarded zone where the Fortins and many other technocrats live. Especially tightly guarded tonight, as it turns out, because federal cars have ringed the zone. The place is being cut off, isolated. I wouldn’t be surprised if they blocked transmission of signals soon—it’s getting that extreme. Yet no one is talking about it on the Mainstream, which makes me think the channels are being monitored and wiped by federal agents. This is not freedom. It’s not justice, either. It’s als

  Chapter Eighteen Marguerite My mom coms just as El and I are leaving the apartment. Weirdly, she doesn’t buzz me—it’s El’s band that hums and shows her face. I’m your daughter, I want to scream. But technically, El is her boss. Her sadistic boss. “Hey,” he says. “How’s the big guy?” “Waiting for some good news,” she says. “And how are you?” he asks, giving me a sidelong glance. “I’m doing great, El. I have more energy than I have in ages. Thank you. I mean it.” His grin loses any shred of cynicism. “Anything, Colette—you’re paying me back with that smile.” I feel sick again. “Marguerite and I are actually headed to Bethesda. Want to come?” “Is this what we talked about?” Mom asks. “You know,” El says. “I think we can trust Marguerite to handle the information maturely.” “I’ll meet you there, then,” Mom says. “I need to deliver that one last briefing you sent me.” “Perfect. Maybe we can get dinner after?” “Sounds good!” She hangs up. “I’ll tell you what,” says El. “Those neurostims are

  Chapter Nineteen Percy I badly need a medical time-out, and I’m desperate to know what my father wanted Chen to give me, but just as we end our connection, Chen drops another bomb—he tells me he’s come into possession of a vid so secret that people would kill to get it back, so sensitive that he’s scared to transport it from its chip back into the District for fear of detection. I have to go back to Arlington. Yves, looking all muscular in his new SUV body, picks me up at the navy yard and glides across the Potomac. He touches down without incident in the parking lot of a restaurant, then drives along a narrow residential street before turning onto a dead-end road. Marguerite is right about one thing—outside the few affluent technocrat enclaves, the country is in dreadful need of a makeover. Most of these homes look abandoned. Not shabby chic, just shabby. As I start to get out of Yves, he tells me Jacques is on a suicide mission. “What does that even mean?” “He monitored police channe

  Chapter Twenty Marguerite Catch me if you can. Is this a game to him? Or maybe it’s a trick—a way to keep us tied up in knots, trying to find the account and its user, while he goes off in another direction? Is this Percy? If so, does he have any idea how dangerous this is? I want to help either way, whether this is a stranger who hates me or . . . the strange boy from school who probably also hates me. Because in a short time, the technocrats who appeared enemies now seem largely innocent of everything except privilege and obliviousness, or at the very least of the murders I know at least one person on our side is capable of. It doesn’t change a thing about what I believe—all Americans deserve access to the same technology and education and jobs, things I will never stop fighting for. But the battle can’t be won when El is on the field. He seems too willing to destroy our humanity just to score a victory—and that’s something I can’t live with. Leaning over my desk screen, I call up th

  Chapter Twenty-One Percy It’s not a button. I log out instantaneously, after which I get the notification from the AI ghost that any trace of FragFlwr has been scattered randomly across the Mainstream in pieces of data so small that even if they’re detected, they’ll be indecipherable. More importantly, my link into the Mainstream can’t be traced back here to the embassy, both because of the security and because of how I get around it. I learned this particular trick a year ago from Chen, and so far, it’s been quite useful. Never more so than now, as I lean over my desk and let her words brand my brain. It’s not a button. She was telling me she’s being watched, that she had to call the hackers in to find me. I run my hand over my mouth, my perfect teeth and perfect lips. I’ve learned a few things in the last several minutes. First, the new guard in the White House is just as oppressive as I thought, just as desperate to find and crush any person who defies their vision of order. So desp

  Chapter Twenty-Two Marguerite I push the icon. Instantly, the screen goes gray, and I slide back from it as if it’s contaminated. What if he left traces of his path behind? What if they’re able to find him? By the time my comband vibrates a few minutes later, cold sweat has broken out on my forehead. “What’s wrong, Mar?” El asks drily. “Seen a ghost? Wrestling with demons? Both at once?” I hate him. “I did what you asked.” “Did you? Hans just informed me that you only signaled him after Frag had signed off.” “Frag told me he’d be able to tell when the scan started,” I babble. “I was hoping Hans could get something if I did it quickly enough right after?” El has his face close to the screen, so it’s the only thing I see. “Nice try.” I roll my eyes. “No matter what I do, it’s never good enough.” “Just do exactly what I say. Frag is willing to engage with you, Marguerite. That makes you valuable. I took a quick read of your transcript, and really, it’s masterful.” I start to relax, but th

  Chapter Twenty-Three Percy I don’t check until I’m in the car and on the way back to the embassy, but it has meant fighting temptation every second. Once I’m inside Charles, though, I can’t hold out any longer. I activate my comband and see what I’ve got—and what I’ve got is more temptation. I’ve cloned Marguerite’s device, so I have access to everything. I can already see that it’s been capped by someone who knows only slightly less than I do, maybe the hacker who so clumsily left his or her gummy fingerprints all over Marguerite’s message space on her channel. This is all right, though. It could be useful. I can also see the coms she’s made, the posts, her search items. I could check to see if she’s looked me up. I will not do any of these things. From what I can see, Marguerite is living her life under an electron microscope. Whether she knows it or not, she hasn’t had secrets for an age, except those locked in the maze of her own mind. But anything she’s done, said aloud, or seen,

  Chapter Twenty-Four Marguerite The taxi drops me off at Hazen Park, the spot indicated by the coordinates Percy sent. Mom was still at the White House when I left, so I asked Renata to tell her I am meeting a friend for a late-night slice of pizza. It sounds so random, but I also streamed a vid earlier this evening talking about how I needed to experience life as a normal teenager, especially when it was this stressful. I’m hoping she sees that and lets me have a few hours. More likely, El will see it and know I’m up to something. I know how I’ll spin it—I’m trying to catch FragFlwr. I’m trying to lure him in. And I am, sort of. I swear, this afternoon, when he was so close to me . . . we had a moment. I don’t know what to make of it, but I know I want a chance to figure it out. I’m trying not to let doubts about it creep in, but Percy is an amazing actor, too. He’s serious and heroic, but he wears the mask of a fool more often than not, a brilliant disguise. And he’s documented his li

  Chapter Twenty-Five Percy I put up a good chase before I let them catch me, because I don’t want them thinking I’m doing this on purpose. I discover something fun in the process: I can climb like a spider up a wall, because my fingers and toes and eyes all work together to find acceptable leverage points with perfect balance, efficiency, and coordination. It’s somewhat startling, but all my body’s systems are online, and the adrenaline fuels them with urgency. My oxygenation is remarkably efficient. The cannies come after me, but they expect me to function wit
hin the limitations of a typical human body, so it takes them a little while to adjust their settings. When I reach the top of an apartment building at the edge of the Potomac, I look out on the river’s glittering expanse and wait. I could jump. It’s tempting to hurl myself into space just to see if I could fly. I don’t know if my body would survive the fall, though, and I don’t have my parents here to put me back together. So I d

  Chapter Twenty-Six Marguerite As I wait in an empty exam room, I say a little prayer that the vice president actually hates me less than she seems to. Before I got out of Yves, I asked Chen to get me through to the president. If he was the hacking god he was supposed to be, I figured it would be easy. But apparently Uncle Wynn wasn’t at the White House tonight, and guess who was? “My secretary said it was important,” said the veep, her voice low and thoroughly annoyed. “I need to talk to the president,” I said. “And it is important.” “Your mother isn’t in the office,” she replied. “If you’ve scraped your knee and need a Band-Aid, I can send a medical canny to make a house call.” “You’re not being fair, Madam Vice President.” I stayed formal. Unlike with the president, there has been no such invitation to call her Audrey. “This is actually a matter of national security. It’s urgent. Which makes it critical that I speak to the—” “And you’re talking to me instead,” she snapped. “If you wa

  Chapter Twenty-Seven Percy This was not what I expected to happen. I knew I needed my internal menu to pop up at just the right time, with all the pieces in place, all the options on the table. I thought I knew what came next. Sometimes I’m a little too arrogant for my own good. I lie here, stiff as the floor beneath me. My muscles are screaming. My lungs are screaming. My skin, my teeth, my fingernails, my ears and nose, my eyes. There is not a single part of me that isn’t in utter agony. I wish I had triggered the self-destruct mechanism. Surely that would have hurt less. But no, no. Being the optimistic fellow I am, having faith in my parents and their brilliance, having read all my father’s instructions to me before I enabled all the options in the menu, I decided to do something else. System update. Now I’m looking at the countdown to completion: nine minutes and forty-two seconds. Until then, I have to lie here and watch Marguerite, her fear for me, her panic, surrounded by enemi

  Chapter Twenty-Eight Marguerite Wynn curses and bends down to grab El’s arm. His face is purple with anger as he pulls the screen off El, drops it to the ground, and then stomps on it. “Send a message to the tech team that Marguerite’s account has been hacked and a fabricated vid was just streamed,” he says to a Secret Service canny. “Do it now! Get that video off the Mainstream right now.” The canny rushes out of the room, leaving the one who still has a gun aimed at my heart. Then, unbelievably but unmistakably, Percy’s heart beats beneath my palm. It jolts my entire body. Wynn’s eyes go wide as Percy Blake rises from the floor, a real-life Lazarus. I am pretty sure I look just as shocked. “Put the gun away, old man,” he says in his usual teasing tone. “Enough people have seen her live vid by now that she must walk out of here alive for you to prove it’s a fabrication.” He glances at me with an approving smile. “You are so good, darling.” “Percy,” I say, “what—” “I know, it has to be

  Chapter Twenty-Nine Percy Marguerite screams into the silence that follows. Wynn Sallese blinks and cranes his neck to see beyond the machinemen surrounding me, checking to see if I’m hit. “I said, fire!” The cannies just stand there, waiting for an authorized order. From me. This room is in such vivid color. I can see the baby hairs along Marguerite’s hairline, which I’d love to smooth with my fingertip. I can smell the sweat on the president’s upper lip, and it makes mine curl. I can feel the hum of every single artificial brain in this room. They’re connected to me now. I am online. “Lower your weapons,” I say. “We’ve had our fun.” They comply and stand aside. “Oh, and please restrain the president if he attempts to do anything rash.” They close in. “Stop,” he shouts. “Execute him, dammit!” “They won’t listen to that kind of nonsense,” I tell him. “Not anymore.” Lord, I can feel them all. Every thought. The sensation is like streaking through the sky, moving at lightspeed, everythin

  Chapter Thirty Marguerite I tuck my hair behind my ear, feeling it curl against my chin, and grin at the screen. “It’s been a busy few weeks, but I wanted to let you all know how I’m doing.” I glance across the room at Mom, who smiles. It’s a real smile this time, one generated under her own power. And yes, it looks weary and a little sad, but it’s better than nothing. “I know it must feel like the world’s been turned upside down. I believed in Wynn Sallese as much as I’ve ever believed in anything. I believed he would fix our economy and help us achieve our dreams of tech equality—and then total equality.” I sigh. “I was wrong. I’m so sorry for my part in everything that happened and in the lives lost. But we’re already on the road to healing, I promise you.” I sit up straighter. I can see my image in the streaming box. He was right. I do look good in violet. “This afternoon I met with President Savedra. She restated her commitment to increasing tech access for all Americans, to worki

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This book was a true collaborative effort, and so my first thank-you must go to the editor who joined me to hone and grow the idea: Courtney Miller. Courtney, your excitement over this story’s potential, and our conversations that forged its backbone, kept me going through the challenges of writing it. Thank you so much for your belief in me and your willingness to take on this project. Thank you also to the amazing team at Skyscape, and to Jason Kirk for stepping in to help usher the book through its final steps toward publication. Thanks to Janice Lee, my copyeditor extraordinaire, for caring about all the details and for reminding me that there are only five weekdays per week. Thank you to Phyllis DeBlanche for final eagle-eyed typo assassination. Thank you to Devon Fredericksen, my production editor, for keeping the project on the rails. And of course, I am grateful once again to Leslie “Lam” Miller for guiding me through the developmental editing process. As always

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR Photo © 2012 Rebecca Skinner Sarah Fine is the author of several popular series, including the Impostor Queen and Guards of the Shadowlands. And while she promises she is not psychoanalyzing those around her, she manages to use both her talent as a writer and her experience as a psychologist to great effect. Sarah’s stories blur lines, challenge convention, and press boundaries. Her mash-up of seemingly disparate genres yields stories that not only are engaging but will keep readers guessing. Sarah has lived on the West Coast and in the Midwest, but she currently calls the East Coast home. She confesses to having the music tastes of an adolescent boy and an adventurous spirit when it comes to food (especially if it’s fried). But if her many books are any indication, writing clearly trumps both her musical and culinary loves.

  PRAISE FOR SARAH FINE

  “As a modern-day ‘Orpheus and Eurydice,’ Sanctum will be a hit with urban fantasy readers, who will love its top-notch world-building, page-turning action, and slow-developing romance.”

  —School Library Journal

  “In this well-developed concept of the afterlife, details are well-executed and the setting is described flawlessly. Without a doubt, readers will look forward to the next installment of the Guards of the Shadowlands series.”

  —Library Media Connection on Sanctum

  “This is one of my favorite books of this year! Smart and sexy.”

  —Reading Teen blog on Sanctum

  “Theology be damned, though: Lela and Malachi are both likable protagonists, and readers will be happy . . . this trilogy opener has a lot going for it.”

  —Kirkus Reviews on Sanctum

  “Fans of Rae Carson’s books and Victoria Aveyard’s Red Queen will find much to love in Fine’s engrossing novel.”

  —VOYA on The Impostor Queen

  “Sarah Fine presents a fresh and fascinating magical world with its own rules and rituals, riveting action and relationships (and a sequel-worthy ending), featuring a protagonist who grows in wis
dom, compassion, and self-awareness.”

  —School Library Journal on The Impostor Queen

  ALSO BY SARAH FINE

  Young Adult Fiction

  Guards of the Shadowlands Series

  Sanctum

  Fractured

  Chaos

  Captive: A Guard’s Tale from Malachi’s Perspective

  Vigilante: A Guard’s Tale from Ana’s Perspective

  Stories from the Shadowlands

  Of Metal and Wishes

  Of Dreams and Rust

  Of Shadows and Obsession: A Short Story Prequel to Of Metal and Wishes

  The Impostor Queen

  The Cursed Queen

  Scan (with Walter Jury)

  Burn (with Walter Jury)

  Adult Fiction

  The Reliquary Series

  Reliquary

  Splinter

  Mosaic

  Mayhem and Magic (Graphic Novel)

  Servants of Fate Series

  Marked

  Claimed

  Fated

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2017 by Sarah Fine

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Skyscape, New York

  www.apub.com