Fox Forever

  I maintain my position on the tree root until she’s walking across the lawn, and then I stand, wondering if it was her father who prevented her from coming earlier.

  “I can’t stay long,” she says.

  “You didn’t have to come because of me. I already told you I just like hanging out in the Commons at night.”

  She looks at me, her chest rising in a long, slow breath. “Really? Is that all it is?”

  The Commons is big. There’s a million places I could perch myself besides right across the street from her building. She’s not stupid. But I can’t really answer why I’m here. Only more information? It’s not just that.

  “It’s not safe to climb down the side of a building in a nightgown,” I tell her.

  “It’s not safe to climb down at all. That won’t keep me from doing it if it pleases me.” She walks past me and sits on the root, her legs jutting out in front of her like she’s ready to trip me.

  I watch the hard Raine return. The closed one who pushes people away. But it affects me differently now than it did the first time I saw her. She’s afraid. She covers her soft underside with prickly armor.

  I make a deliberate show of stepping around her outstretched legs and I sit down beside her. “So tell me what pleases you, Raine. When I’m not here how do you spend your nights? Where do you go? What do you do?”

  She slides her feet up on the root, hugs her shins, and looks at me. Her eyes grow warmer, like the question has unleashed a part of her that she lives for. Her pupils widen in the deep brown pools and I watch the play behind them, almost like a feral animal … like a fox who enjoys the cleverness of her game, and I realize she’s probably the most complex, contradictory person I’ve ever met. Her eyes narrow. “If my father’s anything, he’s a man of order and routine. That’s both his strength and his weakness. I know I have four and a half hours of guaranteed freedom each night. He doesn’t sleep much but when he does, he sleeps as deeply as a corpse. The only time I’ve ever had a close call was once when he became ill and woke during the night. Hap covered for me.”

  At least I know with certainty where Hap’s loyalties lie.

  She stares unfocused into the shadows of the trees surrounding us, a glimmer in her eyes. “I use that time to breathe. To do the things he would never allow. The first time I went out, I was looking for my mother.”

  “I thought your mother was dead.”

  “She is. This was after she died. I was looking for my birth mother. Not because I wanted to talk to her or know her. I just wanted to see the kind of woman who would abandon a baby. She threw me in a trash bin.”

  I wince, unable to fathom Raine being thrown away like trash.

  “Maybe that’s why Father didn’t want me to know my origins in the first place. He’s the one who found me crying in a heap of garbage. He fished me out and took me home as a temporary measure, but as soon as my mother laid eyes on me, she wouldn’t let me go. Of course they made it all legal, but I wasn’t exactly a planned acquisition.”

  “Did you find your birth mother?”

  “I may have seen her. I don’t know. I went to the parts of town Father would never let me enter—the places where Non-pacts live—and I looked at women there, wondering if one of them was the woman who threw me away, wondering what kind of animal she was. Wondering why she did it. Not many Non-pacts are out in the middle of the night, but a few times in the late hours I found gatherings hidden away in other parts of the city, and I watched them from dark alcoves, looking for a woman who looked like me.”

  “How do you know your birth mother was a Non-pact?”

  She shrugs. “The location where I was found. The clothes they found me in. Besides, Father said they’re the only ones who would throw a baby away. He reminds me every day of the life he saved me from. He had me scanned regularly for years, looking for any lasting damage. He still has me scanned occasionally.”

  I can’t imagine anyone throwing her away, especially not a Non-pact. I saw how the children were well cared for at Xavier’s dinner, and the way he tenderly looked after his own children. I know that sort of thing happens—I’ve heard news reports like that before—but no one in his neighborhood would do such a thing. Why would Raine’s father tell her this, even if it’s true? It seems too cruel. Maybe some lies are for the best.

  “I’m sorry, Raine.”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing to be sorry for. Ancient history. A mere curiosity,” she says, like she doesn’t care. “After those excursions, I went to other places Father wouldn’t allow, like the cathedral on Washington Street.”

  “Holy Cross?”

  “You’ve been there?”

  Every Sunday at 11:30 A.M. At least until I was twelve. I was an altar boy when I was just ten years old. I can still see my parents and grandparents beaming as I walked in the processional with my hands folded in front of me in prayer. When I was getting ready in front of my sister, I pretended I hated the cassock and crisp white tunic I had to wear, but I remember secretly thinking that maybe God would see me wearing those fancy holy clothes and mistake me for a priest. That, I was sure, would give me a direct line to God, because my regular connection to him seemed pretty shaky. Even though my house, my neighborhood, and my family are gone now, it’s comforting to know the church we went to has survived the ages. Still, I answer cautiously, not knowing what kind of shape it’s in now or if it’s even used as a church anymore—especially since the library is now a food warehouse.

  “I only drove by. I don’t remember much about it.”

  “That’s a shame. It’s beautiful. Spires of open emptiness, jeweled shadows, musical echos, and best of all, I listen to whispers from the stained-glass saints surrounding me. I always sit in the center pews all alone and pretend … I pretend I’m somewhere in heaven.”

  I hear the desperate hush of her last few words, as if she’s embarrassed. I swallow at the sudden stab in my throat. I should leave, but I can’t. Somewhere in heaven. She has to run away in the middle of the night to get a small piece of heaven? To a lonely dark church? She’s telling me more than I have a right to know. I don’t need this kind of information. Or maybe I’m just afraid I might start sharing information with her about myself, the real me. It feels like it would be so easy to do, so natural to share with her, but I banish any thoughts of truth. I have to keep up the charade of who I am. The Favor is more important than anything I might be feeling at the moment.

  I look up and see her studying my face like she was watching the battle going on inside of me, like she saw me hiding away the truth.

  There’s a loud rustle in the bushes and she stands. “I need to go,” she says.

  “It’s only squirrels, or rats.”

  “It’s not that. I just need to go.”

  “All right.” I stand too. “See you tomorrow night at the meeting.”

  “Right. You know where it is. My place.” Her voice is flat, all the warmth of just a few minutes ago, gone, like she’s already bracing herself for tomorrow night when she’ll have to resume being the cool, guarded Raine. “Good night,” she adds, and begins to turn away.

  “Raine—”

  “Just leave it, Locke!” she snaps. “I have to go!”

  “Hey.” I put my hands up like I’m backing off. “Did I suddenly drop a notch on the trust meter?”

  Instead of taking it as a remark to lighten the mood, I see her face darken even more. A furrow deepens between her brows and she bites her lip. She turns her back to me so I can’t see her. The air is punched out of me and I race back through my words wondering what I said that sent her into a tailspin. Or was it the look on my face as she studied it? Does she know I’m hiding something? Or maybe she went one step too far in opening up with me—a slippery place for someone who always walks a very private tightrope.

  I take a step closer to her, staring at her back. “I didn’t mean to—”

  She vigorously shakes her head, her hair rippling across her back. “You sc
are me, Locke! From the moment I first saw you, you scared me.”

  I’m unable to speak. I frighten her. That was the last thing I expected or wanted. I reach out and lightly touch her shoulder. “Raine…”

  She turns to face me and her words run out in a breathless avalanche. “I’ve never done this before. Ever. I want you to know. I’ve never shared my nights with anyone, or told them about the cathedral, or my mother, or being found in the garbage. I’m not any good at this. Worse than not good. I’m a failure at people. But that first night, I saw you long before you saw me and you fascinated me. You looked like you were in the park waiting for someone, someone who never came, you looked so alone and lonely, and for a moment, I thought maybe I should be that someone who comes so you wouldn’t feel all alone. And I thought about that all the next day. I couldn’t get it out of my mind, and that scared me even more. And now everything that I was afraid would happen is happening. And that’s why I told you that first night never to come here again.” She shrugs a slightly hysterical shrug, her eyes glistening, and she adds, “I don’t know Italian either. Only ‘capiche.’”

  And then, before I know what I’m doing, my head is lowering to hers, my lips to hers, my breaths becoming hers, and I forget about everything but the taste of her mouth, the scent of her hair, and the knots of her spine as my hands pull her closer.

  The Rules of the Game

  I’m in trouble. Big trouble. I’m exhausted. Not at the top of my game by a long shot. And worried.

  It didn’t stop with one kiss. Or two.

  And then when I got home, I relived every moment. Her hands sliding along my back. Her tongue tracing my lips. Her hair brushing across my face when we fell to the ground. Her leaning over me, staring, and then lowering her face to mine again. Everything about her was sweet, and perfect, and dangerous. But I couldn’t stop and neither could she. Our mutual trust status made an instant leap to ten.

  And I said things. Things I never should have said. You fascinate me too. I couldn’t get you out of my thoughts. That’s why I came. You’re beautiful, Raine. I don’t know where it all came from. The words rushed out. For a few minutes every bit of restraint I had vanished. She made it vanish. And right now, the one thing I need more than ever is restraint.

  I can’t lose sight of the goal. I’m going to find Karden, no matter what—dead or alive—for Miesha and for everyone else too. Five years from now, if Security shows up in Xavier’s neighborhood, they’ll be begging on their knees for help, not demanding it, and I won’t be hiding in the shadows with a shawl thrown over my head.

  Xavier is on his way over, ignoring Carver’s rule of no contact. He found out I was out again last night. He’s not happy. When he arrives, he rings the bell and is wearing a delivery uniform, a cap pulled down over his eyes. He walks in with two bags of groceries.

  “Nice disguise,” I say, trying to lighten his mood. I even add the little lighthearted smirk that always defused Gatsbro’s concerns. It doesn’t work with Xavier. He slams the door and dumps the grocery bags on the living room floor.

  “What were you doing in the Commons last night? Someone on the way home from the docks saw you across the street from Raine’s apartment. We have a plan in case you forgot! Who do—”

  “The plan was for me to get in with Raine and her friends, in case you forgot,” I snap back at him, and then in a lower voice, I add, “I’ve gotten to know her.”

  “You what?”

  “She likes to go out at night.”

  He stares at me, his jaw tight, his scar white against his reddening face. “How many nights has this happened?”

  I pick the bags up from the floor. “Almost every night, if it’s any of your business.” A stupid thing to say. Of course it’s his business. Everything to do with the Favor is his business.

  He looks at me for the longest time. His jaw goes lax. “No. No.” He shakes his head and turns. “Noooo.” He groans. “I can’t believe it.” He spins around to face me. “My God, you’ve fallen for her.”

  I nearly drop the bags again. “That’s the jump of an insane man.”

  “Look at you. It’s all over your face.”

  “So now you read faces?” I turn and walk to the kitchen with the bags. “The only thing on my face is lack of sleep because I’m doing what you told me to do. I can’t just walk into this thing without—”

  “Have you kissed her?”

  I stop and turn back to face him. “What?” But I can tell I’ve already given it away. All I can do now is damage control. I force my shoulders to relax and I shrug. “So what if I have? It doesn’t mean anything.”

  “Nothing? You sure?”

  Am I? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her for days. Not just the kiss, but even before that. Every time I try to focus on other things, I still circle back to her. But how could I fall for Raine when I still love Jenna? I’ve always loved Jenna. Thoughts of her are what got me through centuries of being trapped in a six-inch cube.

  Locke, it just isn’t right.… I may look like the Jenna you knew so long ago, but I’m lifetimes from that girl. I’m two hundred and seventy-seven years old now.… You deserve the chance to live a life.…

  Xavier waits for a reply. I turn away and unload the groceries on the counter. “There’s someone else in my life,” I answer.

  “Good. It wouldn’t be smart for you to get mixed up with Raine that way. She can’t be trusted. She is the Secretary’s daughter.”

  I whip around at the remark, ready to defend her. “She’s not like the Secretary. She’s adopted. Did you know that?”

  “But he raised her. That’s enough to make her dangerous.”

  He doesn’t miss a beat with his reply, which is more than a little odd. He’s not surprised with this new information about her adoption. Maybe because it’s not new to him. Why didn’t he include it in Raine’s files? If telling me that she likes fencing is important, it seems like this little fact might be important too.

  “You look like hell,” he says. “You better get some sleep, Romeo. You have the performance of a lifetime tonight, and the Secretary’s going to be a much tougher audience than Raine to fool.”

  I note how smoothly he changes the subject. He’s covering, trying to erase the ground he just gave me. I grab an orange from the groceries he brought and score the peel with the blade of my Swiss knife the way my dad used to. I sit at the kitchen table and plop my feet on top of it, lean back in the chair, and pull the neatly scored peel from the orange. Sometimes more can be said with silence than with words. I learned that from Miesha. Raine’s incomplete files weren’t just sloppiness. I wipe the oily orange residue from the blade with my fingers and fold it back into its red hilt, pulling out the scissors next, and then the tweezers.

  “Why the sudden interest in the knife?” Xavier asks.

  “Just paying attention to details.”

  “Did you hear anything I said about getting some sleep?”

  I look at his face, staring at every angle, every plane. He knows exactly what I’m doing. He wants to turn away, but he doesn’t. I have to give him that. I see anger. I see fear. But mostly I see a mountain of guilt.

  And that’s when I know.

  All the clues that didn’t add up before click into place. More than click—they explode. I drop my orange on the kitchen floor and run to the living room, swiping papers and maps aside as I bring up the file I need.

  File 52

  Raine Branson (pronounced: rayn)

  Age: 17

  Xavier follows me, talking, shouting, buzzing around me like an angry bee, but I block it all out, flipping through the virtual pages until I find the one I want. The image looms in front me, frozen on the virtual screen. Raine staring at me, her lips parted, the lips that made my hair stand on end. Raine’s features are dark, her hair, her eyes, her thick line of black lashes, all of these new and unfamiliar to me, features that threw me off, but her mouth, the distinct V of her upper lip, the wide pout of h
er lower lip, lips I had seen countless times trying to hold back information from me until they no longer could. Miesha’s lips.

  I fall back in my seat, air trapped in my chest. That’s why they didn’t tell me she was adopted. That’s why there were no images of Karden. Dark and dangerous. That’s how Miesha described him, and exactly how you could describe Raine.

  I shake my head in disgust. “You’re trying to save Karden, but not her?”

  “From what? The only life she’s ever known?” Xavier doesn’t apologize for the lie he has perpetuated. His tone is accusatory. “Save her from her life of privilege and leisure? Believe me, I thought about it. No one hates the Secretary more than I do. How do you think I got this?” He touches the scar that slashes the entire length of his face. “He personally dragged a blade across my cheek while his security forces held me down. A little message he called it, to all Non-pacts who ever considered Resistance again. So when I found out who Raine was a few months ago, my first impulse was to expose the Secretary’s dirty secret.” He looks away, the sneer on his upper lip fading. His voice becomes softer. “But she is Karden’s and Miesha’s daughter. What would I be condemning her to? She’d be caught between two worlds, not fitting in anywhere anymore, not to mention what the Secretary might do with her.” He looks up at me. “But really, the bottom line is, after all this time she’s part of their world now. She has a life in that world. That’s where her loyalties are. Not with us. She can’t be trusted.”

  I spring to my feet, jumping him, throwing him to the ground, moving so fast he doesn’t have time to react, moving faster than anything he’s ever had to react to. I wedge my hand against his throat. “It doesn’t matter!” I yell. “She’s a human being! Not merchandise! Not a pawn in this stupid game of yours!”

  My hand tightens on his throat. He doesn’t struggle. I let go, pushing away from him, and walk to the other side of the room, trying to keep from putting my fist through the wall, trying to process what all this means. I know what it’s like to have other people playing with your life like you’re nothing more than a game piece.