Page 35 of Anarchy Missing

“I don’t think so,” I say. But inside I consider what it would be like to be Thomas. Wholly unemotional. Unattached, unaffected, unbound by anything but the loyalty the three of us have to each other.

Lincoln was pissed off after that Blue Boar bullshit. It was pretty apparent that the inhibitor we used to keep us from killing each other never worked on Thomas. But that’s not all that’s different about him compared to Linc and me.

He’s got no emotions. And he made himself that way on purpose using a drug he stole from Prodigy School back when we were kids.

“How do you have any left?” I ask. I’ve wondered about this for a while now, but never cared enough to ask.

“I reverse-engineered it. Bought a pharmaceutical company. Had them make it for me. It’s a much better version than I had back then. It’s fast-acting, long-lasting now. But I have the old version too, Case. I could give you the old version. The more temporary one. Just to get you through.”

In other words, he could drug the love right out of me. Turn me into an emotionless machine, just like him.

“I’ve got a meeting,” Thomas says, standing up from his desk, a signal that tells me it’s time to leave. “But think about it. I’ll come by your house tonight—”

“No,” I say quickly. I can’t have him at my house at night. He can’t see the way I have to fight with the pain and the heat once the sun goes down. “I’ll think about it,” I say before he can ask any more questions. “And stop by here in the morning before work.”

He smiles, satisfied. “OK,” he says. “OK. I’ll get some ready for you in case you decide to take me up on my offer.”

He says that because he thinks he’s won the argument and he’s gonna get his way. But I’m not taking that pill. Not now, not ever.

“Don’t get your hopes up,” I say, rising to leave. “You’ll be disappointed.”

I walk out, not bothering to take the bridge back to the main cathedral because the garage is on this side of campus, and make my way down to my car.

I have a couple hours before the shit gets bad, so I drive by the main cathedral and before I know it, I’m parking in a space just half a block down.

I get out and start walking, the memories pulling at me. Guiding me back to the last night we had together. To the one and only moment in my life that I truly felt… happy.

She’s there. Standing under the enormous gothic arch of the cathedral. Looking up at the heavy wooden double doors, like she very badly wants to enter, but requires an invitation.

I knew she’d be here. It wasn’t the cathedral calling me back. It was her.

“Lulu,” I say in a low voice, once I’m almost right behind her.

She doesn’t whirl around in surprise.

She turns. Slowly. Cautiously.

And when her eyes meet mine, I realize something.

I still love her.

CHAPTER TWELVE - CASE

I don’t want the night to be over. The last dance is a slow one, giving us permission to hold each other close, and take advantage of what’s left of our first perfect night. All this… is done. My obligation to her and her family is over.

“Did you have a good time?” I whisper into her hair. She’s got her head on my chest. It’s resting there like she’s exhausted. I have one arm wrapped tightly around her small waist, holding on to her hip. And the other is pressing her palm against my collar bone as we slowly shuffle our feet. Just one slow couple in a sea of black and white. The dancing is over. Every couple here is regretful that this is the sad end of a very happy night.

“The best night of my life,” Lulu whispers. “I don’t want it to end.” Her words echo my thoughts. She pushes back suddenly, taking me by surprise. “Come with me.”

My hand is squeezed as she leads me through the other couples, practically dragging me towards the front of the cathedral. Past groups of proud parents, all holding drinks. Past photographers taking pictures for the society page that will run in tomorrow’s Sunday edition of The City Times. We move past everyone until we are outside in the cool night. The street is lined with black limousines, ready to take everyone home in an orderly fashion. Some couples are already on their way out.

But Lulu tugs on my hand, urging me to follow her into the dark shadows of the thick stone columns of the archway standing guard over the entrance.

We turn a corner and there is a small vestibule with an icon set back into a niche.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“Shhh,” Lulu says. “Just sit down.”