From Darkness Comes - Book 2 in The Dissonance Series

Pretty Little Thing

"Miss Attwood, welcome," Cassius Tarquin says, noticeably using my name instead of my number. He wants me to feel like a person, not just another Mod. He's buttering me up for something.

I look around his office. It's not just on the top level of the building, it is the top level of the building, with a 360 degree view of the city. There are two black leather couches, in between which, sits a heavy-looking black marble table with gold veins. On top lies a box of expensive-looking cigars.

Cassius Tarquin sits behind an enormous desk, on a platform raised slightly higher than the floor, feeding his ego, as if he's somehow above the rest of us. The wall behind him is black, with built-in gold shelving, adorned with his many diplomas, awards and achievements: a shrine of accomplishments, which mean nothing on this planet.

Inlaid lighting illuminates his office, drawing my eyes to the ceiling, where a series of stacked rectangles makes its way across the room, meant to look like a stylistic design, but their purpose is for sound proofing. I cringe to think what it is he does in this office that he doesn't want heard. The entire feel of his sanctuary is very different than that of the rest of the building. In a place where the color white and the feeling of pleasantness reigns supreme, Cassius Tarquin's office is the complete opposite: dark and dominating, like a man desperate to show off his wealth and assert his power.

As I enter, he instructs Rona to close the door and lower the shades. It's odd to hear her voice outside my home, as if my roommate is betraying me by living with this vile man. At his command, shades drop from the ceiling, covering the floor to ceiling windows and blocking out most of the artificial light from the dome. Cassius Tarquin is a man who relishes the darkness. His office suits him perfectly.

"Come, join me," he says in what I can only assume is his least creepiest voice, but it still makes my skin crawl. He strides over to a bar filled with glasses and bottles filled with liquor, motioning for me to follow. I approach, but try to keep a  safe distance.

"I won't bite," he slithers, in observation of my obvious hesitation to be near him. Reluctantly, I move closer, resting my arm on the bar.

"At least not yet," he laughs, then makes a little snapping motion with his mouth, chuckling and showing his yellowing teeth. It takes everything in me not to cringe.

"Can I offer you a drink?" he asks, as he pours a brown liquid over ice for himself.

"I'm not 21," I reply, reminding him of the large disparity between our ages. He laughs, dark and menacing.

"Ever, we're on a different planet now. The old laws don't exist." His eyes track up and down my body. I cross my arms across my chest. He pours another glass and holds it out to me, but I simply shake my head in refusal.

"Suit yourself," he says when I resist his advances, tilting his head back and pouring the liquid down his throat. The skin on his neck hangs loose and wobbly like a turkey's gobbler. The bile in my throat rises as he steps closer.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, cutting to the chase.

"You're direct," he smiles. "I like that."

My face remains emotionless.

"What do you want?" I repeat with irritation. His smile fades.

"Your cooperation," he states, moving slowly, snakelike, towards me, forcing me backwards, pushing me further into the corner of the room.

"You want to help us, don't you Ever?"

I don't respond. He lifts a strand of my hair and brushes it over my shoulder. I flinch, repulsed by his touch.