06. Life hasn’t prepared me for such gifts

It was getting light when we drove up to the president’s apartment in the city. I’d seen it in a picture before, and it was too careless to look at it openly now. I was still lying on Grant’s lap, pretending to be asleep, and only occasionally allowing myself a glimpse of the world through the small gap between my eyelashes.

The early morning greeted us with even more cold than the night before. The rain had passed, it smelled fresh, but that only made the goosebumps on my skin grow bigger.

Someone else’s breath came closer.

“Wake up,” he shook my shoulders lightly.

I opened my eyes and met a deep dark gaze. Grant Cirkul pulled me out of the car and set me down on the wet pavement. I instantly wanted to stand on my tiptoes or miraculously find soft slippers a few yards away, even ones with rabbit ears, but I just wrapped my cloak tightly, glad to be able to cover my body at least.

Asking the president and his entourage for clothes didn’t seem like the best idea; I hadn’t even seen such frowning faces at my mother’s funeral. My intuition whispered annoyingly that someone was in danger, but I cared little for the affairs of the country or the mere mortals. I had chosen my path, and it was unwise for me to abandon my decision.

Not too concerned about my opinion or safety, the president’s son grabbed my forearm and dragged me to the entrance. I had to bite my tongue and not show off. Though I wasn’t used to being treated this way, my heart told me to be quiet, to tame my pride, and to lay low for a while. I didn’t understand the situation anyway, so I wanted to clarify it, but no one was going to do that on the street, of course.

The fifth floor. A huge, bright office behind high doors, gleaming with luxury and a sense of style. Cirkul Senior took a seat at the desk, the Secretary of Defense and the blond guy sat on a narrow sofa between the windows, three bodyguards and two, most likely assistants, stood near the door. Grant walked to the center, stopped, and threw his arm off me with such force that I fell to the soft carpet, hitting my knees. The black-haired young man himself pulled a light armchair toward me and sat there with the look of an emperor of the world who was too bored with life.

And once we broke the touch, worry and silent panic rose to my chest, stirring uneasily in my heart, which was pounding in fear of the unknown.

I looked around at everyone present, and since no one was going to start a conversation, I decided to clean up any future trouble (and everything in the silence was screaming for it) by myself.

“Why was I brought here? And what’s that thing around my neck?”

The president’s hawkish gaze immediately flashed to me. The head of state furrowed his brow as he studied. And with every tick of the second hand of the clock that hung behind his back, it was obvious that he increasingly did not like what he saw.

“What’s your name?” At last he opened his wide mouth, from which, as it were, so many words burst out, bearing the verdict of entire cities and countries.

“Don’t remember.” I stared back defiantly. I didn’t want anything to do with this man, and the thought that he might find out my name terrified me.

Rizor’s eyes narrowed, the wrinkles deepened in his pale face. I was inwardly glad that I’d been able to get him off his chest with one phrase, but the minister prevented an outburst of anger.

“Girl, we’re not playing games here. The collar around your neck is one of the latest military developments, a bomb that will go off as soon as you step ten meters away from the tethered object.”

“Who would need to do such a delusional thing?” My mind was really split now, because with all my imagination I could not comprehend why it was necessary to put public tax money into making these strange and inexplicable ‘trinket-toys’ of the military.

“We were going to use Siri-22 samples in operations with terrorists...”

“The main question at the moment is not what it’s for, but why it’s on you,” the president interrupted the minister’s explanation. “And until we figure out whose hand it is, you’d better behave discreetly.”

“And what do you mean by this?”

“You, whether willingly or unwillingly, are bound to my son. Now you will have to become his shadow. Till, of course, we find out how to get your collar off.”

I even got to my feet, amazed at such an ultimatum. “What if I don’t want to?”

Cirkul measured me with an astonished and displeased gaze. “Don’t want to stay alive?”

“Should I?” I spat with a sneer. Angry joy blossomed in my heart. The rage that had been quietly waiting to happen, the resentment toward the world and the president in particular that had been building up with every second since the verdict to shut down Virtul, the mad determination and the last wish – all mixed together in me, creating a bitter-tasty cocktail of emotions that flared up now.

All the way here, I tried to hide from thoughts of revenge. It seemed like a dream, the delirium of a madman, – the situation in which I found myself, in which I appeared before the very killer of my quiet life.

It seemed that fate itself had put me in a position where I could do one last good deed before I died. I was terribly lucky. Either I saved the country in the past, or in the next life I would be fortunate, because by killing the president I would rid the world of a tyrant. It was getting harder and harder to hold back the smile, abnormal under the circumstances, so I turned to the minister, wanting to know the answer to just one question.

“And what is the shock wave?”

“Five or six.”

“Meters?”

“No way. It’s five or six kilometers...”

I nodded appreciatively. I liked the honesty of Klaster Asanor. At least someone was truthful with me. Before death.

I squeezed my eyes shut, gathering all the crumbs of my power. “Air, come.”

A gust of wind knocked the windows out of their slots, shook the curtains and burst into the room, sweeping papers off the tables. So familiar and cold, the rush of air ruffled my hair and caressed my face. It felt too easy, too simple. The decision seemed too right.

I darted off and ran across the carpet, across the cool parquet, and it felt like I was barely touching the floor, like the wind was really picking me up on its wings. I jumped on the window sill and took one last glance at the waking sun, floating lazily out from behind the high-rises, and stepped down. A beeping hoop squeezed my throat until it hurt, but I didn’t care for it anymore.

I was teetering on the edge of euphoria, blissful hatred mixed with boundless happiness. I couldn’t think of anything else but the sweet anticipation of vengeance. ‘Though it will be fleeting and almost painless...’

And yet... When hatred finds you, do you have to thank heavens for the honor of being empowered to take revenge?

‘Thank you, universe, for giving me a chance, an opportunity to get even...’