She Who Sees Through Darkness

Part Five

The rest of the work day passed in a blur—surprising, considering how frequently they'd work until midnight. Katrina emailed the senator's doctors, threatening legal action if they revealed anything, and send a similar list of threats to the New York Post, warning them to stop snooping for information on the senator's father's suicide. Senator Winters herself dropped in once, between a firemen's brunch and visiting a public school. Unfortunately, it was when Kyle came in to loan Katrina a sequined vest.

"Dress code," he muttered. "It's a theme party. Mardi Gras."

Senator Winters stepped out of Ford's office. Her head snapped up at the sparkling sight. "Are you going to Maximum tonight?"

Katrina's eyebrows shot up. "Ma'am?"

"Don't play coy with me, Ms. Harris. I had a photo-op there this summer. For the magazine spread on promoting LGBT entrepreneurship. Kyle introduced me to the owner." She glanced at Kyle. "An absolutely charming man. Grew up with next-to-nothing in Spanish Harlem. Now he owns three nightclubs."

"That's right," Kyle muttered. "You wish he was your son."

"Don't be silly," Senator Winters snapped.

Katrina reached for something to say. "The magazine spread was a smart move, ma'am."

"It wasn't a move. Gay people invest in businesses and pay taxes. For Pete's sake, they want to get married and move to the suburbs! I'm not letting some religious fanatics drive off economically-conservative voters." Her tone softened. She reached over and squeezed Kyle's shoulder. "And besides, someone has to protect my son. Don't do anything stupid tonight."

He smiled, weakly. "Come on, Mom. When was the last time I did something stupid?"

The squeezing, familiar pressure of jealousy swelled in Katrina's lungs. I want a mom like that. All she had of her mother were flickering memories: a warm hug, hands bandaging a scraped knee, bright lines of fire twisting around her body. She and Katrina's father had been killed in action when she'd been nine years old. Shawn, ten years her senior, had known them well enough to tense with anger whenever their names came up. She didn't dare push for more information. Better a few memories of unconditional love and acceptance than let whatever Shawn had observed about them rise up and taint her perspective.

"Stay sober," Senator Winters told Katrina. "Bring the papers. No photos, no embarrassing stunts. Bring him home when he gets too drunk. We're one more minor scandal from a complete breakdown. Take care of my son."

"I always have, ma'am."

The or else in her boss's voice lingered after she'd walked away.

"Stay sober?" Kyle muttered. "Hell, how are we supposed to have any fun now?"

***

Neon yellow ridges lined the club's molded plastic façade. Inside, light from a disco ball cast shining circles over the electric purple dance floor. 'Just Dance' blasted from the speakers. Katrina positioned herself along the far wall, away from the bar. She wore a blue sequined vest, a white leather miniskirt, and nothing else. Kyle had gone to say hi to the host.

"You look lonely, honey," said a girl draped in a rainbow feather boa. "Single?"

She's young. When Katrina had been her age, she might have started flirting with her, but leading people on could hurt. "Sorry. I'm straight."

"Too bad." She grabbed a sushi roll from the tray off a passing waiter and winked at him. "You've got nice legs."

"I'm a marathoner." She reached out with her chopsticks and snatched a piece of salmon nigiri. A few bad stomach-aches had left her wary of raw fish, but she could trust the quality here. Kyle's rich friends didn't half-ass anything. She dropped down on the couch next to the girl and put her legs up on a table. "Name's Katrina."

"Ruby." The girl looked her over, frowning slightly, as if trying to reconcile Katrina's golden skin and dark eyes with a name that belonged on a Dutch milkmaid. "You . . . holy cow, your legs."

Shit. She pressed her thighs together.

"Did someone do that to you?" Ruby lowered her voice to a whisper. "You don't have to put up with that. I know a place where—"

"It was an accident." She knew how obvious the lie was. Eleven peachy-red burns, some as round as Shawn's fingertips, some imperfect licks from her lighter. Two more marked her left wrist. She'd forgotten how the old scars might look. She'd asked him to do it. Older agents said the method sometimes worked to force latent magic to manifest. He didn't abuse me, and I'm not crazy. Of course, she'd kept it up well through her early twenties, ten years after she should have manifested. "Excuse me."

She jumped to her feet and crossed the room, fighting to balance on her stilettos, hating her costume. Showing skin for a party had been fun in college—when she'd had advanced notice, remembered to smear concealer over the burns—but she was thirty-two, a goddamn adult, and it all seemed stupid without a buzz. Is anything fun anymore?

She leant up against the bar. Music pounded in her ears. Temptation bit at her. Forget that. I'm strong. So strong that her greatest achievement in life was getting some people fired and making it to age thirty alive.

If she'd OD'd back in 2005, would the world be any different? Shawn would have gotten over it by now. Anaïs would be glad her alcoholic sister-in-law wasn't throwing a wrench in her marriage anymore. Annie wouldn't even remember her. Annie would have been better off if Katrina's life had become a family cautionary tale.

"Hello, hello!" The speaker was the man coming up behind the DJ booth—a tall, pale Asian man wearing a thong and a hundred different necklaces. "Everyone having a good time?"

The crowd cheered. All the noise washed past Katrina, leaving her a separate part of the assembly, like the one dim bulb on a Christmas tree.

"I'd like to thank my good friend Kyle for coming out here tonight!" He motioned in the crowd, and Kyle jumped up behind him, his own necklaces swinging. They kissed. The crowd went wild, shouting, laughing.

Katrina couldn't remember the last time she'd kissed someone. She'd been born straight as a rail, and men fell in three categories for her: agents of Indigo, who knew why she'd been fired and avoided her, other Descendants who feared her ties to the agency, and normal men, who could never know the truth of what she was.

Behind the DJ booth, Kyle met her eyes and waved. He hopped down, and the crowd mobbed him. Even he doesn't need me as a friend. He might have claimed to be a screw-up, but everyone loved him. And he doesn't have to worry if they're just his friends because his mom pays them.

"A Coke, please," she asked the bartender. Her hands needed something to hold.

He poured a can into a glass and handed it over. "Are you all right, miss?"

His patronizing tone made her want to scream. You think I'm so fragile? That a woman born to defend mankind needs to be guarded from her own feelings by you, some nobody? "You don't know me. Screw off." She moved away from the bar, picking up speed as he shouted at her back, squeezing the can.

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