Limerence: Book Three of The Cure (Omnibus Edition)

  The second I get sent in there I’ll be accosted by a bunch of dirty old dudes who want to do god knows what with me, and the likelihood of me being able to avoid that is low, by the sounds of the security involved.

  Luke stares at me and the same thing obviously occurs to him because he says, “Yeah, true. Let’s plan for another night.”

  “Hang on, I didn’t mean that. I just meant …”

  “You said she’d be okay because everyone in there will be so wasted they won’t know what’s going on,” Teddy reminds Luke.

  “That’s a good point,” I agree. “While they’re messed up I’ll get the codes or whatever it is and then go straight to the tunnels where you’ll be waiting to swim me to safety.”

  “You’re not a strong swimmer.”

  “Cheers.”

  “It might be a long way.”

  “Well then, it’s a good thing I have my big strong boyfriend to rescue his poor weak little girlfriend.”

  “Shut up.” He laughs.

  “We’re not going to be able to infiltrate the Gates twice,” Will pipes up for the first time. He’s been staring at the map and listening to us in silence. “Getting the information now, then going inside again to get Shadow? No way.”

  “That’s my point!” I say.

  “So what if we take someone to trade with Shadow?” Will suggests. “That way Shadow gets sent to us.”

  We go quiet, pondering it.

  “I’m not sure there’s anyone we could take that Shay would want more than Shadow,” Luke points out. “He hates him a lot.”

  “What if it was his son?”

  My eyebrows arch, intrigued. Teddy types the name in and we’re met with a file photo of Zachariah Shay, aged 19. He has brown hair like his father, coal gray eyes and a gruesome scar pulling at one edge of his mouth. He’s strange looking, and something about him unnerves me despite how young he is.

  “How would we get him?” Luke wonders aloud. “He sure as hell doesn’t leave the compound. He’s probably more highly protected than Shadow.”

  “But he’s not a prisoner, which makes the difference,” I say. “He’ll have the freedom to move around inside. And while the party’s raging I can duck away and find him.”

  “If you find him – and that’s a big if – how are you gonna get him to go with you?” Luke asks.

  I shrug. “I’ll think of something.”

  He groans. “I really don’t like this reckless side of yours.”

  “Sure you do.” I grin. “You’re the one who taught me that lateral thinkers see opportunity everywhere. That boy is a neon sign.” I look at the picture again and can’t help thinking about what we could do with a boy like that.

  “That’s what worries me,” Luke mutters. “Things that seem too good to be true usually are.”

  I shake my head. There’s something in the picture I’m having trouble looking away from. Something in the boy’s eyes. Something, I realize, that reminds me of my own child protection photos as a kid.

  “He’s miserable,” I say.

  “So what?”

  I don’t know. I chew on my lip as I study him.

  “He’s gonna change things for us,” I murmur eventually. “I want him.”

  Chapter 5

  September 17th, 2067

  Josephine

  It’s hot. I don’t know where I am. Pain holds my head captive and I’m not sure I can open my eyes. In fact, I think they’re swollen shut. The sound of footsteps is all around me. I can’t see so I concentrate on what I can hear. Breathing. Lots and lots of breathing. There is a huge group of people surrounding me. A chill runs down my spine as I feel myself being lifted off the cold ground. I’m carried and the hands that hold me have fingernails that puncture my flesh. I know they’re not my people because they’re not talking. There are no voices being raised to give orders or ask questions. It’s too silent with only the rustle of limbs and the thump thump of my blaring pulse.

  Where’s Luke? My head’s too fuzzy and I can’t remember what happened or how I got here—

  The wall. I remember the wall. And Luke didn’t come. He wasn’t answering Teddy’s radio pleas, which means something went wrong on his end and god what if he’s hurt what if he’s dead?

  I’m carried a long way with this terrible fear in my heart. I can taste blood and bile in my mouth. I count the seconds so I can work out how far I’m being taken but it’s a stupid endeavor because I have no idea where I started. I know the scent and feel of the tunnels, and I know that this isn’t them. I’m above ground somewhere, but I can’t think of how that’s possible. It lasts a long time. I move in and out of consciousness. I vomit from the nausea of being carried and the pain in my head. The mess goes all over me but my carriers don’t stop or comment.

  Finally the air outside grows cool enough for night and we stop. There’s a crack and a sting on my face. Someone has slapped me.

  “Wake,” a deep female voice commands.

  I manage to open one of my eyes just a crack. Enough to let the dim inky light of twilight fill my head.

  Enough to see the moon high above, just a wink of it. It hangs red, tinged with blood, and I understand all at once, like a blow, how this has happened. It all comes back to the blood moon.

  *

  March 6th, 2067

  Josephine

  It occurs to me as we’re driving through the city that not one of us raised a moral objection to kidnapping a young man and using him as a hostage. I feel slightly bad about that, but to be honest it doesn’t weigh on me too heavily, which is probably a more concerning fact. Oh well.

  Luke, Will, Henrietta and I park the car in the underground parking lot and take the lift up into the department store. I have my contact lenses in and my thumb pads on, but none of the others have anything to protect against random scans so we’re sticking to Murder Mall, as we call it, because it’s pretty much filled with drug addicts likely to murder you and funnily enough the Bloods don’t bother with much security down this way. I guess they figure it’s already down the toilet so there’s no point wasting time policing it.

  Today’s agenda is a rather hilarious use of our time: I need to find a dress for the event. Despite how silly it sounds, Luke has assured me that I’ll need to look smoking hot to even be allowed near the Gates. Shallow, chauvinistic scumbags that they are. So I’ve decided to have fun with it. I figure the year of being twenty-two is my year of being young.

  Henrietta is with us for today’s mission – she’s never been above ground on an op before – because I needed some help with the dress. Also, Will begged us to let her come since he’s madly in love with her in a not-so-secret actually-totally-obvious way. For my part I would have preferred pretty much anyone else since she keeps mooning really obviously over my boyfriend.

  On the escalator Luke drapes his arms around my shoulders from behind. “I used to shop here when I was a kid. It smells just as bad as it did then.”

  “Huh. I used to steal here. We’re made for each other.”

  He grins. “What did you steal?”

  “Anything I could get my hands on. It was all very Oliver Twist-ish. I’ve got quite nimble fingers.”

  “Oh yeah? Can you pick pockets?”

  “Please.”

  “Prove it, hot shot. Bet you’re not half as good as Coin.”

  “This seems like a very dumb game to be played by hunted fugitives.”

  “Chicken?”

  I can’t help laughing as I scan the shoppers around us. As we walk off the escalator I spot a bedraggled man following a woman chatting away on her phone. He has about fourteen bags in his hands and looks bored to tears. I angle toward him and eye his tattered jacket. One of the front lapels is slightly more raised than the other – his wallet’s inside a pocket there.

  “Keep your eyes on me,” I tell Luke under my breath.

  “Not a problem.”

  I walk up to the man and brush close enough to gently graze one of
his bags. As he turns to see me I let my foot slip sideways and I hit the ground awkwardly. He almost trips over me but manages to catch himself. I wince in pain and he puts his bags down to help me.

  “Sorry,” he says even though he didn’t do anything.

  “No, god, I’m sorry. Klutz.”

  With him bent down to help me I spy the wallet inside his jacket. I look up and meet his eyes. He’s not expecting it. People don’t meet the eyes of strangers. But I hold his and while he’s distracted I brush closer and pluck the wallet straight out of his jacket. It goes swiftly into the back of my jeans where he won’t spot it. I help gather his bags for him and apologize again. As he walks past me I flash the wallet for Luke to see, then turn and swiftly drop it into one of the man’s shopping bags, all while he’s none the wiser.

  Luke gives me a slow clap as I return. Will and Henrietta look impressed.

  “Redirection, my friends. Never doubt me again.”

  “Never, my little street urchin.”

  We wind our way to the formal dress section. I grab the first few I spot and then see Henrietta’s unbelievably withering glance.

  “What’s wrong with these?”

  She stares at me as though it’s just become apparent that I’m a sewer monster. Which I suppose I am. Her family is very, very wealthy. She’s much better equipped to deal with this than I’ve ever been, so I sigh and put the dresses back. “Come on then. I’ll wear whatever you choose.”

  Her nose crinkles. “In here? I’d have to have a gun to my head.”

  “Let’s pretend you do. Because if I don’t look good enough to get into this party then I’m going to come home and murder you.”

  “What about this?” Luke suggests, holding up a cream lace dress.

  Henrietta of course smiles and nods. “Nice choice, Luke.”

  “Nice choice, Luke,” I mimic.

  He smugly hands the dress to me. Henrietta also pulls out a plunging black gown and a weird red tutu thing. “Try these so we can get your color palette.”

  “It’s very important to get the color palette,” Will agrees, deadpan.

  “It is! I don’t know, you’re all cavemen.”

  Will does an excellent impression of an ape and jumps around the aisles, much to our amusement. I catch Henrietta turning away so we won’t see her smile. Thankfully there’s no else in this section of the shop.

  I try the dresses on. The tutu is first. It’s see-through so you can see my underwear. Oh well. I fling open the curtain and strut out with some faux sexy moves, bending over and snapping back up, flashing a pout and sticking my butt out. Luke pisses himself and Will whips his phone out to film me acting like an idiot so quickly that it goes flying from his hands.

  Hen groans. “Good god, no.”

  “This doesn’t look good?” I ask as I thrust my pelvis.

  “No,” is the resounding answer from all three.

  With the next dress I stick my leg out first. Luke whistles. When I emerge it’s with a shimmy of my breasts, which nearly fall free of the skimpy black fabric. There’s a mannequin next to us and I sexy dance against him, licking his plastic face. “This is what I have to do tomorrow night, right?”

  There are tears in Luke’s eyes he’s laughing so hard.

  “I really, really hope not,” Hen mutters. I am determined to get a laugh out of her.

  “Do that awkward bending over thing again,” Will tells me. “This is getting projected in the arena when we get back.”

  I bend over but my butt knocks the mannequin and it crashes into a rack of dresses. Even Henrietta can’t help laughing as I awkwardly lunge to catch it and manage to rip the seam of my dress above my hip.

  “Now we’re talking,” Luke says.

  “You are a concerning level of perverse.”

  The last dress is the cream lace he found. I emerge without any theatrics because I don’t want to rip it too.

  “Yep. That’s it,” Hen says.

  Luke nods somberly.

  Will snaps a few pics. “You’ll be prom queen for sure.”

  “It’s not too … covered?” I ask. “Not that I want to be uncovered but I thought the idea was to seduce people …?”

  “Oh, honey,” Hen sighs. “Don’t you know anything? Seducing men has nothing to do with showing skin. It’s about class, mystery, elegance, being absolutely aloof and completely un-gettable. You put your body on display and you’re basically hanging a sign around your neck that says ‘easy’.”

  I blink. How the hell does a sixteen-year-old know that? “So … really? This is it? I thought you’d drag this out all afternoon.”

  “When it’s right, it’s right,” Hen says.

  I look down at the dress. It’s form-fitting with a high-neckline, long sleeves and a straight skirt that hangs to the ground. The whole thing is made of lace. I suppose it is quite beautiful. I feel very unlike myself in it. I don’t think I’ve ever worn a dress. Like, actually ever.

  “Quick, Oliver, stuff it in your purse and let’s get out of here,” Luke says.

  I roll my eyes, get unchanged and pay for the dress the old fashioned way. The good thing about Murder Mall is that it accepts illegal cash. It’s very cheap, being a knock-off and all, which Hen takes great offense to.

  “You know you’ll need heels, right? At least six inches.”

  “Six inches? What the fuck?”

  “Oh, please. I used to do eight easily.”

  I look at Luke but he nods, the traitor.

  So we get shoes. I hate them more than I’ve hated anything. Well, no. That’s an exaggeration, but I do hate them a lot. They hurt and make it almost impossible to move.

  “From now until that party you wear those,” Hen tells me. “You sleep in them, shower in them, eat in them. Except don’t actually shower in them, obviously. But you have to try and get used to them because you’re embarrassing me right now.”

  “Can’t I just get lower heels?”

  “No one at that party will be wearing heels under six inches.”

  “So what?”

  She shakes her head and is done with the conversation. I buy the damn things and then we head back to the safe house. We have a couple dotted throughout the city, all properties owned by imaginary citizens Will tricked the system into accepting. This way we don’t have to worry about the houses suddenly becoming occupied by real drones. We keep cameras surveying them even when we’re not here and when we arrive we spend most of our time suspiciously sweeping the area and jumping at every sound.

  I decide to have a bath because there’s endless hot water and nothing pressing to do this evening. And best of all: windows to the sky. It’s bliss. I sink into the scalding hot water and look at the darkening twilight. I think of all the baths I’ve laid in. Given it’s one of my most favorite things to do I’ve been in very few. The best bath of all was the one in Luke’s city apartment. Thinking of that bath makes me think of that bathroom, which makes me remember the time he walked in on me naked when we’d known each other for about three days. I was so desperately uncomfortable in my own skin then. I’d never been naked with anyone – I’d barely been naked with myself. My body was a shameful secret. And then he appeared and made it so much worse and so much better. He was a revelation; I was a revelation.

  There’s a soft knock on the door.

  “Yeah?”

  “Can I come in, baby?”

  “Of course.”

  Luke enters and closes the door behind him. He looks down at me and smiles, then sits with his back against the bath. I run my wet fingers through his hair.

  “You and your baths,” he murmurs.

  “Me and my baths.”

  “I’m giving the adolescents a chance to really stew in their hormones together.”

  “Pleasant.”

  “I think she likes him.”

  “Are you out of your mind? She likes you.”

  “That’s just posturing. I’m telling you, he’s growing on her.”

/>   “She not …”

  “What?”

  “Enough for him.”

  “Enough of what?”

  “I dunno. Strange enough. Kind enough.”

  “People aren’t always what they seem. She’s had it tough.”

  “We all have.”

  “What’s your problem with her?”

  I shrug. “She just thinks she’s better than everyone.”

  “She’s a child, Josi. She’s been taken from her parents and her extremely privileged life and presented with sewers.”

  “And freedom.”

  “Yes, and freedom. Attitude is a survival mechanism. And don’t you think she’s been really solid?”

  It’s true. She has. She’s taken to the tunnels with admirable aplomb and not a word of complaint, and she’s always the first to plead with us to be brought above for a mission. “She’s brave,” I allow. “I don’t know why I’m so hard on her. Sorry.”

  “She reminds me of you.”

  “What?”

  “You last year. Bitching and moaning about everything just to make people hate you as much as you hated yourself.”

  “I did not,” I say weakly.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Anyway, you were in a coma for most of that.”

  “But I heard many, many stories.”

  “Oh, good.”

  He laughs a little. I move my fingers over his scalp, massaging it gently. “I’m nervous about tomorrow,” he admits. “I don’t like sending you in there like this.”

  “It was your idea.”

  “I know, but I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking.”

  “You were thinking that I’m capable of dealing with it, because I am. Want to get in?”

  He shakes his head. “I’ve got meat in the oven.”

  “Let it burn.” This is blasphemy. Not only because Luke loves food – cooking it, eating it, serenading it, probably marrying it – but also because we practically starve in those tunnels most of the time.