Eliana stopped a few paces away. He didn’t notice her at first, just kept puffing at his cigarette. She’d deposited Mr. Gonzalez’s money on her way home, and the receipt from the banker was folded away in her checkbook, a reminder that she had enough for a visa.
Diego looked up. His eyes, dark and glittering like coals, locked on to her. And then he broke out in a wary smile.
“You’re okay,” he said.
For a moment Eliana didn’t know what he was talking about. Then she realized: the explosion. She hadn’t spoken to him since the explosion, even though she had called his apartment. He’d never picked up.
“So are you,” she said.
Diego flicked his cigarette over the side of the stoop and bounded down the stairs. “I’m sorry I’ve been away,” he said. “I heard you were there.”
Eliana frowned. “How’d you hear that?”
He didn’t answer, only enveloped her in a hug, drawing her in tight against his chest. Eliana closed her eyes and breathed in the smoky-spicy scent of him. For a moment, her worries went numb.
“I wasn’t there there, anyway,” she said, speaking into his chest. “I was at the Azevedo warehouse—”
“You were close enough.” He pulled away and looked down at her. “It’s so good to see you. Mr. Cabrera had me busy, but I came as soon as I could.”
“I called.”
“I was at the Florencia.” Diego looked away and let out a long breath. “Working on something. But you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”
Eliana didn’t say anything. His concern physically pained her.
“Let’s go inside,” she said, threading her arm around his waist. She led him back toward the stoop and into the lobby. It was just as cold inside as it was out, and the light fixture flickered overhead, casting short staccato shadows across the dirty tile. Diego grabbed her hand and squeezed, and they took the stairs together, not speaking. At her apartment, Eliana opened the door and went in, tossing her purse onto the dining table. The receipt inside was a reminder that she almost had the money to leave, a reminder that she would have to tell Diego.
“Do you want something to drink?” she asked. “I think I still have coffee.”
“Don’t waste it on me.” Diego switched on the radio and slid down into her couch. Some crooner’s voice, old-fashioned and soothing, trickled out of the speakers. It was the sort of thing her parents had listened to, dancing together in the living room when Eliana was a little girl.
“They’re saying it was an accident,” Diego said glumly. “That’s the latest news.”
Eliana sank into the couch beside him. He stared at the opposite wall, one hand rubbing at his forehead. “An electrical accident, faulty wiring and all that.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” Eliana sure didn’t. It was like with the blackouts. The city came in with their bullshit explanations that only raised more questions than anything else. “I mean, what sort of power plant has bad wiring? What if it had been one of the atomic plants, for God’s sake?”
“Oh, they keep those safe,” Diego said. “Mainland interests, you know.”
Eliana cringed. Mainland. She had to tell him. And more than that, she had to convince him to come with her. Not just because she’d miss him but because the city was dangerous. Faulty wiring and electrical accidents. Cabrera. The robots lurking in the park.
Over on the radio, the song faded away, replaced by the smooth, dark baritone of the announcer’s voice.
“Hope City is falling apart,” the announcer said.
Eliana jolted. She looked over at the radio, then at Diego. He was frowning, his head tilted, brow furrowed.
“The main dome is nearly a hundred years old,” the announcer said. “Do we really think that old steam technology will last for a hundred years? We need complete atomic power. This is why Independence is a far-fetched dream. Only the mainland can provide us with the resources necessary for our survival, and in turn we provide them with clean, inexpensive energy. There’s nothing wrong with the way the system—”
Eliana reached over and switched the radio off.
“Thank you,” Diego said. “I wasn’t sure I could stand much more of that.”
“I always thought Cabrera was pro-mainland,” Eliana said. “That’s what everyone says.”
“Cabrera is pro-Cabrera.” Diego sighed. “He loves all this shit anyway. Anything to get people anxious. He didn’t do it,” Diego said quickly. “The power plant.”
“I didn’t think he did,” Eliana said, her thoughts on the money for the mainland; she hardly registered what Diego said.
“Good. I didn’t want you playing do-gooder. But he’s sure as shit going to exploit it.”
Something about the bitterness in Diego’s voice made Eliana hopeful. Maybe he knew he couldn’t stay in the city much longer either.
“Listen,” Eliana said. “Diego. I have to tell you something.”
Diego swooped his gaze back over to her. “What is it? Did something happen at the explosion?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just—” Her voice faltered. She took a deep breath and glanced over at her purse, still sitting on the kitchen table. “I had a client come in a few days ago and offer me a pretty easy job for a lot of cash.”
Diego didn’t say anything, just kept staring at her.
“Five hundred dollars,” she said. “Plus another fifty for my retainer. You know I’ve been saving for the mainland. Well.” She shrugged, like it was that easy. “I’ve got it. At least enough for the visa. I’m close to enough for the ship ticket too, and I’m sure I’ll have enough by the end of winter, especially with the way business has been going.”
Her confession was met with a thick, buzzing silence. The light fixture flickered once and settled.
“I want you to come with me,” she said, although she didn’t look at him. “I’m sure Cabrera would get you the money. Just—come with me. Leave. To hell with this place.”
She felt Diego’s eyes on her, and in that oppressive silence she had to resist the urge to flip the radio back on. They sat like that for a long time. Eliana kept staring at the far wall. It was the only thing she could do.
Finally, Diego spoke.
“I can’t do that,” he said. “I can’t leave Mr. Cabrera. Christ, you know that.” He touched her chin and turned her face toward him. He looked sadder than she had ever seen him. “I’m happy for you,” he said. “I know this is what you wanted.”
“It’s not just a matter of what I wanted,” Eliana said. “It’s what’s safe. It’s like the guy on the radio said, the city’s falling apart. Atomic power’s not going to fix that. Cabrera sure as hell isn’t going to fix that. The city stopped existing when the amusement park shut down. It stopped existing before I was even born. There’s no reason for me to stay here.”
Diego pulled back from her, a sharp, subtle movement she almost didn’t see.
“There’s no reason for either of us to stay here,” she said. “For anyone, even. I just— Please, Diego, come with me.”
Diego looked at her for a moment longer. Then he rubbed his hand over his face and stood up. Eliana felt him pulling away from her, the way you would peel a wrapper away from a candy.
“I can’t,” he said. “I’m glad you’re getting out of the city, I really am. You’re right, it’s not safe here. But I can’t.”
“Diego—”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
Eliana was struck dumb. Diego shook his head and grabbed his coat from the hook beside the door. “I’m sorry,” he said again, louder this time.
And then he walked out into the hallway, the door swinging shut behind him.
* * * *
Eliana wouldn’t even call it a fight. Neither of them had been angry, and what haunted her that night and into the n
ext day wasn’t a raised voice or a screamed barb designed to wound, but the deep-throated sadness in Diego’s apology, the way he had shuffled out the door as if dragged by a chain.
A chain pulled by Ignacio Cabrera.
She went into the office the next day because she wanted the comfort of routine. Besides, another client or two, and she’d have the money saved up for her ship ticket and living expenses. Despite everything, the thought still made her warm inside. No wonder. Diego had chosen Cabrera over her.
But the morning went by uneventfully. No phone calls, no visits from potential clients. By eleven thirty Eliana considered closing the office early. It was cold, the radiator barely able to keep the room warm.
And then Marianella walked in.
Eliana almost didn’t recognize her. She had covered her hair with a scarf and put on a threadbare, dark blue men’s coat that was at least thirty years out of fashion. When she pulled off her sunglasses, her face was pale, and dark shadows rested under her eyes.
“Marianella?” Eliana blurted. “Should you be—out?”
Marianella sighed. “At this point it doesn’t matter. I have to be. For Ignacio, we worked up a story to explain my survival in the dome, so I’m not officially in hiding, but—” She looked off to the side. “I’m still trying to limit my time out and about in the city.”
She sat down at Eliana’s desk without taking off her coat or scarf. “I need a favor, Eliana. As a friend. I’ll pay you for your work, of course, but this isn’t exactly what you do, and I can’t ask Luciano.”
“What is it?” Eliana said. She was glad to see Marianella again, glad to have something to take her mind off yesterday. She wondered about this story, though. There hadn’t been anything official in the newspaper about Marianella’s trip out to the desert.
“Do you know what the Midwinter Ball is?”
“The what?”
“The Midwinter Ball. We had one last year. It’s a fund-raiser for the agricultural domes. Essential to the cause, in some ways.”
“Is this some rich-person thing?”
Marianella gave a strained smile. “I suppose you could say that. I’m going to attend, of course. It’s two weeks away.”
“You’re what!” Eliana stared at her. “Attend? Isn’t that dangerous?”
Marianella sighed. The dome light shining through the blinds illuminated her face. She looked like an aristocrat—elegant, brave, stupid.
“I can’t stay in hiding forever,” she said. “And the Midwinter Ball is imperative to our success. The story we worked up is—believable. I walked out of the dome in a fit of melancholy, and one of my maintenance drones sensed danger and opened the entrance for me.” She grazed her fingers over the side of her hair. “It should elicit sympathy with the right people, and of course it’s scandalous enough that it’ll spread like wildfire while everyone’s pretending they aren’t talking about it.” She laughed bitterly.
“I see.”
“I just want to see my ag domes built,” Marianella said. “And if I have to deal with Ignacio financially—well, it’s a small price to pay, I think. Although, of course I hope I won’t. I hope he’ll just believe the stories.” She gave a weak smile.
This devotion to Hope City, to Independence, was something that Eliana knew she wouldn’t ever understand. And which Hope City was Marianella fighting for, exactly? She lived in a private dome, with her own drones and a power system that never faltered. Even now, hiding away in the park, she was protected. She didn’t understand that this place shouldn’t exist. It was unnatural, for people to live out in the ice. Marianella’s devotion seemed misplaced.
“Anyway.” Marianella slumped down a little, like a fire had died inside her. She smoothed down her skirt. “We are taking extra precautions for my attendance. Which is why I came to see you.”
Eliana frowned. She wasn’t sure she liked where this was going.
There was a pause. Marianella took a deep breath.
“What do you—” Eliana started.
“I need you to be my bodyguard.”
Eliana stared at her.
“You have a gun, of course, and a license for it. All I ask is that you come to the party with me. I’ll provide a dress and a hairstylist, anything that you need.”
“And you want me to what, shoot Cabrera for you?”
Marianella looked momentarily stricken. Then she laughed. “No, of course not. I just—if anything happens, if there are any issues, I would like to have some measure of protection.” She hesitated. “Alejo offered to lend me one of his bodyguards, but I—don’t trust any of them to keep the secret of my nature.”
“I’m an investigator,” Eliana said. “Not a bodyguard.” She rapped her fingers against the desk. The last time she’d fired a gun, she had shot someone. An andie, yes, but that memory, of his skin peeling away from the metal bones of his face, was bad enough. And Marianella still wanted Eliana to serve as bodyguard, even after seeing that? Maybe Marianella really was losing her mind.
“I would feel the safest with you.”
Marianella’s voice rang out in the cold office. Eliana fell silent, stunned by the confession. There was no way Marianella was thinking straight.
“It’s a society gala,” Marianella said. “I can’t take Luciano or Sofia.” She smiled. “I’m sure you won’t even have to pull your gun out, much less use it. And I’ll pay you, of course.”
Eliana started to shake her head, but Marianella said, “Don’t you want to know how much?”
Something in her voice made Eliana look up. The ship ticket. She wouldn’t think about leaving Diego behind. He’d already made his choice.
“How much?” Eliana said cautiously.
“One hundred up front. If you’re required to do anything more than drink cocktails and flirt with old men, I’ll pay you five hundred.”
Eliana lost her air for a moment. Five hundred. The one hundred plus her savings would easily cover the ship ticket, but that five hundred—that was enough for her to start a proper life on the mainland. Maybe that would be the way to convince Diego to come with her.
Marianella watched her, hopeful.
“I’ll do it,” Eliana said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DIEGO
The party was on the top floor of a hotel downtown that looked out over the city. Diego ordered a whiskey and sipped at it as he stood next to the window. His reflection was a ghost over the veins of light that made up Hope City. It was an unusual occurrence, these days, to see the city lit up like this, and ever since Eliana had broken the news to him two weeks ago—the good news, the bad news, he couldn’t decide—he’d sure as hell felt like a ghost.
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Mr. Cabrera speaking with a young woman in a shimmering silver gown. She kept laughing and touching her hair. Diego eased around and leaned up against the window. He swirled his drink around in its glass. You had to have one for appearances, at a place like this, but he knew better than to get drunk.
The woman in the silver gown put her hand on Mr. Cabrera’s arm and pulled him down so she could whisper into his ear. Mr. Cabrera grinned and nodded, then slipped his arm around the woman. Together they glided toward the dance floor.
Shit. Now Diego’d have to give up his spot next to the window.
He drifted along behind them, aware not only of Mr. Cabrera but of the people around Mr. Cabrera—mostly rich old aristocrats and their sparkling wives. Nobody suspicious.
He found a new place, this time up against a wall next to an ugly abstract painting. People swirled past him, and he scowled at them each in turn to discourage anyone from trying to strike up a conversation. Not that it was necessary. Despite the tuxedo Mr. Cabrera had lent him, it was clear Diego did not belong in a place like this. Neither did Mr. Cabrera, when you got down to it, but there were some Independent-minded city
politicians Mr. Cabrera needed in his pocket, just in case this whole agriculture dome thing ever happened.
“You can sit around worrying about this shit,” Mr. Cabrera had said a few hours earlier, as they’d ridden in his sleek dark car toward the hotel, Diego forcing himself to focus on his assignment and not Eliana, “or you can take some precautions. So that’s what we’re doing. Taking precautions.”
Diego had only nodded in response. He knew all about Mr. Cabrera’s ideas on precautions. He had been helping with those precautions for the last five years, ever since Mr. Cabrera had taken him out of the pool of errand-runners and said, “You’re practically my son. I don’t want you wasting your time with this shit.” There had even been a suggestion, never explicitly stated but often implied, that someday Diego might take over Mr. Cabrera’s business. But Mr. Cabrera’s retirement was a long way away.
Diego didn’t want to think about that possible future, though. The woman they’d thrown to the ice, this was the sort of place she should be. Standing up on the dais telling all the dancers just how welcome their contributions were.
The thought made Diego feel hollow.
Mr. Cabrera left the dance floor, the silver woman at his side. Diego took another sip of his whiskey and followed them across the party, keeping a respectful distance—close enough to see but not close enough to hear. Mr. Cabrera went over to the bar, bought his girl a drink, and then herded her toward the balcony.
Diego went along for it all. This kind of work wasn’t so bad, although watching Mr. Cabrera flirt with the girl reminded him of the good times he’d had with Eliana. Which he didn’t need right now.
The balcony doors were closed, and when Mr. Cabrera pushed one open, the artificial wind gusted in, cold and smelling faintly of the docks. The woman laughed as her skirt fluttered up around her knees, and she put one hand on her hair as if to hold it in place. They stepped out. Diego hesitated, not sure if he should follow—but then Mr. Cabrera glanced at him over his shoulder and nodded once, his expression hard and serious.
Diego stepped outside.