“And that, my friend, is why life is worth living. Or, in your case, worth dying . . .” With a grimace, Vi shook her head. The blunt ends of her blond wig barely moved with the gesture. “Forgive me, Johnny.”
Johnny Diamoto jerked away as Vi leaned in from behind and rested her pointed chin on his shoulder. He was slick with sweat and stank of fear, ripe for the plucking.
Vi sighed. “That was a shitty line. I’m trying to come up with a catchphrase, but can I be honest?” Vi didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she stood and tightened the garrote around his fat, hairy log of a neck. Slowly. Not wanting to shed light on the shadow of hope hanging dark in the stuffy room.
She’d turned the heat up before he’d arrived at the swanky downtown hotel. The Honeymoon Suite, tonight 7p. That’s all his text had said. Honeymoon suite. Typical. Men like him loved dressing up their double life, making it seem like there would be a fairytale ending if the woman could just hold on long enough. Admittedly, Vi had hung on too long to this one. She’d lavished in the gifts, the trips, but now he wanted more. He’d “bought” and “paid for” enough. It was time to “see some returns.”
The timing had actually been perfect. Home Office was crawling up her ass about finishing the job. And finish, Vi would.
Diamoto’s sausage-roll arms strained against the silk ties she’d used to secure him to the chair. What was it with men and wanting to be tied up?
“Well, this whole catchphrase thing is not really working out for me,” Vi said. “I definitely thought it’d be a lot easier. I’ll have to get back to you.”
Wet, strangled grunts burbled through Diamoto’s swollen lips as she pulled on the ends of the wire.
“Did you have a thought, Johnny?” she purred. “Something to add?”
The chair creaked in response.
“What do you think my catchphrase should be?” Vi liked to leave them with a question. A small thread of connection she could twirl between her fingers after the job was done and she was back to being alone.
A final fighting burst surged through Diamoto, and his right arm freed itself from its binding.
That was the last time she would use silk.
Keeping her gloved hands securely wrapped around the wire, Vi dodged his arm as it flailed back, reaching for her. His waist was still tied in place, but Diamoto’s stumpy fingers found her wrist. His thick paws wildly clawed at her, pulling at and crashing against her leather-clad forearms.
“Bad . . . boy . . . Johnny,” Vi grunted as she tore away from him and crossed the wire behind his neck.
She leaned into him and pulled.
Johnny Diamoto shuddered and his hand slapped against hers like a wet, dying fish.
Vi breathed in a lungful of air as his ran out, and the world, no doubt, darkened around him.
Vi knew what that was like. Once upon a time, gloved hands had kept her from breathing. Left her for dead.
But Vi was better than that man. Vi always finished what she started.
The train clunked to a stop and the doors slid open with a hiss. Elodie glanced up as one person boarded. One person without his Violet Shield up. It wasn’t technically illegal to use public transport without a pod—as long as you followed the Hands-Off Protocol and kept distance between you and other passengers.
The man scanned for an empty seat, his gaze pausing, lingering on her. He ran his hand through his swirl of blond hair, his lips quirking up in a charming half smile. Elodie’s cheeks heated and she flicked her eyes down to her clean white sneakers. She felt his eyes still on her, heavy yet inviting, as he found an empty seat at the back of the train car.
Astrid would’ve chided her, saying something like, “You can still talk to people even though you have a fiancé. If he’s telling you that you can’t, you have a real problem.” But this was something Elodie’s cheery, talk-to-anyone best friend would never understand. It wasn’t that Elodie wasn’t allowed to talk to other guys. She was her own person and could do what she wanted (within reason, of course). Plus, Rhett would never even know. No, it wasn’t an issue of allowance, it was an issue of her actual human capabilities. She just . . . couldn’t. Most real-life interactions were so rushed and uncomfortable. Words wouldn’t even come out of her mouth and she ended up stuck.
The sterile white lights of the MAX flashed purple, and Holly materialized in the center of the small commuter train, her hands gently cupping The Key’s flowering red logo hovering just in front of her chest. “Please do not be alarmed.” Her smile was broad and white and calm and perfect. “The Violet Shield has been activated for your protection. You may continue with your activities. And remember, no touching today for a healthy tomorrow.” She paused for a few moments, blinking rapidly as she tested the MAX’s system, before repeating the message in the same steady, almost lullaby tone. Elodie recognized it from earlier. It was the same timbre Holly had used when Elodie had come out of lesson fifteen, when the weight of an awkward glance would have broken her into a million pieces.
The train fell eerily quiet. The young man who’d gotten on without his pod activated was now encased in his own purple haze. Apparently, all it took was one routine test to make sure everyone was doing what, in Elodie’s opinion, they should have done the moment they had left the house. Elodie shifted in her seat as thick ribbons of tension snaked around her. Why was everyone being so quiet? This happened every Tuesday. Transit Test Tuesday. That’s how she remembered to anticipate Holly’s appearance, so she wouldn’t freak out and think something bad—
Incoming call from Astrid Fujimoto.
A line of block-lettered text scrolled along the bottom of Elodie’s field of vision, announcing the call from her best friend. With a thought, Elodie answered. A translucent gray rectangle filled the left section of Elodie’s vision, partially pasting over the scene in the train. Like the sunrise, Astrid’s image faded into view, dim at first and then bright and vibrant, the other MAX passengers only visible behind her when they moved.
Astrid’s melanite black hair hung from her slick high ponytail in a giant frazzled knot against her chest as she stared wide-eyed at Elodie. “The shield is on in the MAX, isn’t it?” She didn’t waste any time. “They’re on throughout Zone One. And they’re on here, too.”
Elodie shifted nervously, all too aware that her voice was one of only a handful of other passengers who whispered to each other. “That’s weird. They normally only test the MAX’s shield on Tuesdays.” She hiked her shoulders. “But I guess it does make sense to do the train and all the zones in the same day.”
Astrid’s round face scrunched. “Yeah, that’s great. What does it have to do with today? Thursday.”
Thursday? A strangled breath squeaked past Elodie’s lips. It was Thursday. “Wait, the shield is on where you are? In Zone Two? There shouldn’t be any reason for it to be on that far from city center. There’s nothing but houses out there.”